Home From The Sea: The Elemental Masters, Book Seven (33 page)

He laughed. “And if we are fortunate, yon snoop will perish of the boredom of counting every pea you shuck.”

T
HE
postal service could be astonishingly rapid… especially when you took your letter directly to the depot so the postmaster could put it on the next train out. Both Nan and Sarah had written to Lord Alderscroft, each voicing similar, but not identical, concerns.

The reply came in three days, and it was not what Nan and Sarah had expected.

A messenger came in person from Criccieth to the cottage with a telegraph.
Brother arriving Criccieth tomorrow. Meet at Lion.
Naturally the messenger’s arrival caused a stir at the Manor, but no one intruded to ask what the telegram was—yet. Nan expected to get an invitation up to the Manor from Squire’s wife as soon as the messenger passed her door on his way back to the town.

“Brother?” Sarah’s eyebrows arched. “We had better have an explanation for
that!
And for the telegraph, I suppose…”

“That must be Andrew Talbot, of course.” Nan laughed. “I must say of Lord A, he does think of good answers very quickly. Andrew speaks good Welsh, and he can easily pass as our brother. And since tomorrow is Saturday, he can meet us and be back at school without missing too many classes.”

“And the Lion is the Lion Hotel.” Sarah nodded. She noted that Lord Alderscroft had not signed the telegram, so it could easily have come from their supposed father.

“I’ll go up to the manor and arrange for the trap and pony.” Nan pursed her lips. “I had better look worried. Telegrams generally mean bad news. Be prepared for an invitation for tea and sympathy; I expect we’ll be at the Manor until suppertime being reassured.”

So that was what she did, and as a result, the next day they were sent off by an anxious squire, who urged on them that if there was
anything
he could do to help them, they must let him know, and if they needed to leave right away, they could trust him to pack up and send their things on.

The birds always enjoyed a ride in the trap, clinging to the back of the seat in Grey’s case, or flying free in Neville’s until he tired of it and joined Grey. The day was cool, and the pony eager to get to Criccieth where he knew he would find a comfortable stall and a bag of oats waiting at the Lion Hotel for him, so they made good time.

Andrew was waiting for them, doing a tolerable imitation of an anxious elder brother. He ushered them into a private dining room and closed the door. There was tea and cakes waiting, the universal British comfort in times of stress. Nan examined the cake-tray, for in her experience, the cakes one was presented with were an indication of what the staff assumed was going on. The cream cakes arranged there indicated that the staff had learned enough to think that Andrew’s “news” was bad. Servants, as she had good reason to know, knew everything, often before their masters did.

Andrew relaxed, once the door was closed, dropped down into a chair, and helped himself to a cake. “Well! Lord Alderscroft suggested that our supposed family has come down with something contagious, and your siblings are getting it one by one. Have you any suggestions? I was vague when I got here, I was careful to imply it was not life-threatening, but I think I mentioned quarantine. I also mentioned the usual numerous siblings; it seems to be expected in the families of clerics. Well, other than Roman Catholic priests!” He chuckled at his own joke.

“Measles? Mumps?” said Sarah. “Scarlet fever or smallpox won’t do; those are more likely to be fatal, and we would have to look tearful and anxious all the time, and whooping cough generally takes off babies rather than adults.”

“You have a very good point,” Andrew said after a moment. Nan nodded. “If it were something where someone might die, we’d have to have reassuring telegrams at regular intervals. Instead, we can have letters, and express that we are grateful to be here instead of there.”

“Definitely measles, I think,” Andrew decided. “I’ve known it to take an entire season to go through a family, and most folks get through it just with a great deal of annoyance. And then we can have the mumps if we need to.”

Sarah nodded; Nan left this part up to her. Between Lord Alderscroft and Memsa’b, the School had rarely seen any serious illness, so she had nothing to offer for this part of the subterfuge.

Sarah and Andrew worked out all of the details while Nan waited for them to get to something she
could
contribute to, sipping her tea. The cakes were very good, and the staff was right about cream being soothing. Finally, Andrew got to what his real purpose was. “Obviously in light of what is going on with that girl and the Selch, Lord Alderscroft is most anxious for you to remain. Candidly, we’ve never known of a Master to be so… intimately involved with an Elemental creature before. I mean, obviously the Selch are a different matter from most Elementals, because they’re half mortal and quite physical, and certainly enjoy no longer lives than the rest of us. But… still.”

“Still,” Nan agreed.

“Ordinarily, he’d have one of us here—but you are dealing with a young female with whom you have established a friendship.” He shrugged. “Most of the White Lodge is made up of the upper classes, and all of them are male. To insert a strange man into this situation—probably a strange man with a title—well, that would just be asking for trouble.”

Nan would have snorted, but Neville beat her to it by making
the rudest noise imaginable. “Neville, you are absolutely right,” she said, giving Andrew a look that made him shrink a little. “Asking for trouble? Oh, you would get trouble, all right. At the very least, you’d be attracting all sorts of unwanted, unasked-for attention to Mari. And Mari would probably show the lot of you the door, if not shy a rock or two at you as you left, and quite properly too, for meddling in her affairs.”

“Ah,” Andrew managed.

“Really, Andrew, how can you sit there and talk about Mari as if she was some sort of—interesting insect?” Sarah demanded.

Andrew withered beneath their gazes. “I really am sorry… I can see that was dreadfully rude…”

“All right then. You just make sure that his lordship is
well
aware that this girl is not some abstract thing he can move about on a game-board,” sniffed Nan. “And since he’s asked us to stay, and I presume you are about to tell us how he intends to support us in doing so, you can tell him that we will make sure to keep him well informed and to do our best for Mari.”

“Ah. Yes.” Andrew cleared his throat self-consciously. “Yes. Lord Alderscroft is going to make sure you have everything you need. Winter clothing, for instance. We’ve arranged for that already. Memsa’b will be sending it as she has your old winter stuff, and knows your sizes and can have more made up. And as for the cottage…” He grinned. “Lord Alderscroft is going to invite your good landlord and his lady to London out of gratitude for hosting you all winter. They’ll even be presented to the queen. While they’re gone, I’ll come down again with a couple of helpers and we’ll make sure the cottage is ready for winter. It probably won’t take much but having one of the Air Masters out to find all the leaks and drafts, get them sealed up, and put in a stove or two. But whatever it takes, your feathered friends will be as cozy as if they were at home.”

Grey bowed her head to him. “T’anks,” Neville quorked.

“Now… here is where we need to put our heads together, for Sarah, you were entirely right. On the strength of your letter, Lord
Alderscroft has done some discreet inquiries. That constable has been sent to find trouble, and if he can’t find any, he is the sort that will make it.”

“That’s what I thought,” Sarah replied, and frowned. “This is utterly vexing. Things would be so much simpler if he would just
go away.”

But Andrew shook his head. “Not with the miner unrest. His superiors are the sort to see conspiracy everywhere. And we have an entirely unexplained man here, with no known origin, who is going to take up very visibly with Mari. We
must
make sure this marriage looks as regular as possible, and we
must
at all cost divert any suspicion from the Selch. So that means explaining the Selch, somehow—then doing it all
right.
Posting the banns, a proper wedding of some sort.” He sighed and looked mournful. “His lordship left all that up to me. And this is where I come a-cropper. You two have been living here all summer. Just how are we going to make this work?”

It seemed to Nan that military campaigns had been planned with less precision. Fortunately, Sarah’d had the forethought to bring one of her sketchbooks to take notes in, for Nan was certain she would never remember it all.

As they left the room, Sarah was lamenting just loud enough to hear a combination of how unjust it was for “poor, dear mother” to have to deal with a house full of children who would all, surely, get the measles, and a modicum of guilt that they would be “enjoying ourselves in our own little hide-away,” while their mother managed alone.

“Well, you’re better off than I am,” Andrew grumbled. “I’m banished to university; I won’t even be allowed home for Christmas.” Then he brightened. “But Lord Alderscroft said I can come down to London at least. That should be jolly.”

That was the signal for Sarah to urge him not to drink too much, or stay up too late at card parties, or eat too much fancy food. To
which Andrew reacted as any older brother would to such unsolicited advice, by looking put-upon and hustling them to their little cart and urging them to get back to their cottage before it got dark. It was a tolerably good acting job on all their parts.

Squire and his wife were waiting anxiously, and the stableboy that came to take the pony stopped them before they could go down to the cottage. “Squire and the mistress are waiting for you in the parlor, miss,” he said sturdily, and in a tone that informed them that it would not be a good idea to beg off. So they went up to the door, and the head maidservant was waiting just inside to usher them up.

Nan privately thought it was the best job of acting they had ever done. She was ridiculously proud of it. In that slightly stuffy, old-fashioned parlor, she and Sarah and the birds (who thankfully remained silent) were given the best seats and urged, “Please, you can tell us everything.”

She
was the older sister who was not at all averse to being here where it was “so nice,” and reminding Sarah over and over that “she was not to undo all the good the summer had done for her,” and that “running after the little ones will only make you ill again.” She even improvised two maiden aunts who “will be sure to come help Mother, so she won’t be coping alone,” because there was, after all, an empty bedroom in the house (theirs) and they could be put up splendidly. “They’ll even manage Christmas; you know Aunt Beatrice does the goose better than Mother.”

That was the cue for Sarah to lament Christmas away from the family, apologize that they were inflicting themselves on the squire over that time, and get reassurances that the squire couldn’t be
happier
than to have them at his family festivities.

And
that
gave the opening for his good lady Delyth to wax eloquent on her two sons and daughter, all married, who would be bringing their broods—and how all of them had safely weathered measles, mumps, croup, and a variety of plagues. “So all will be well, my dear, and we’ll love to have you with us!”

Much pleasure was expressed over having “two such good girls
in the cottage,” much sympathy was tendered, and much assurance given that “we’ll see everything is cozy and pleasant, and soon this illness will have run its course and you’ll be back with your family.”

By then it was suppertime, and their host would not hear of them going down to their cottage and fixing a sad and lonely meal. So they enjoyed a perfectly done saddle of mutton with the two good old people, and afterwards one of the servants lit their way down to the cottage with a lantern.

“That went well,” Nan observed, as she went around lighting the lamps and seeing to the fire in the stove. It was definitely tending fall; no more leaving the windows open at night, and they were grateful for the stove. Soon enough they would be grateful to have three.