Witches Incorporated (52 page)

“Blimey,” Reg muttered in Gerald’s ear. “Princess Pushy’s off and running now. Let’s hope for all our sakes she doesn’t sprain a bloody ankle.”

Moving to stand before the fireplace, whose mantel was crowded with spinsterly knick-knacks, he nodded.
Let’s hope indeed
. He’d just have to trust that Melissande knew what she was doing. Or at least had sense enough to know when it was time to let him step in. He flicked a glance at Monk, who rolled his eyes and took an unobtrusive position by the parlour’s curtained window.

“Miss Telford,” said Melissande, perched on the edge of the ugliest looking armchair he’d ever seen. “I’m afraid that what I’m about to say might well shock you. It will doubtless distress you, and quite possibly alarm you. Of course I’m sorry about that, but—well—as a royal princess I have always done my duty.”

“Your duty?” said Eudora Telford, who’d chosen an equally ugly armchair to sit in. She plucked a lace-edged hanky from her sleeve and pressed it to her lips. “Are you saying it’s your duty to shock, distress and alarm me?”

“Miss Telford,” said Bibbie, who was seated on a hideous sofa, “she is. And speaking as the great-niece of Antigone Markham, the greatest president in the history of Ottosland’s Baking and Pastry Guild, I’d like you to accept my apologies also. You are a credit to the sisterhood, Eudora. More than that, you’re a credit to your country. And your poor country needs you now. Will you be brave? Will you be bold and resolute? Will you bear up under the burden Her Royal Highness is about to place upon your frail, womanly shoulders?”

Miss Telford was pressed so far back in her armchair it was in danger of tipping over. “Oh dear,” she whispered. “How terribly unexpected. I—I really don’t know.”

Melissande leaned forward and reached for Eudora Telford’s hand. “If you were anyone else, Eudora, I would quail at the thought of what I’m about to reveal. But I know the stuff you’re made of and I believe I can trust you’ll do the right thing, though it may be hard. Though it may break your kind and generous heart. Have I misjudged you, Eudora? Or can I now trust you with this dread secret?”

Eudora Telford nodded, mute as a swan.

Reg was gurgling into his ear. “Mad as mice, her
and
that Bibbie! And that gormless guppy Eudora’s twice as bad. Falling for that load of melodramatic poppycock? She’s a
disgrace
to the sisterhood, that’s what
she
is!”

“
Eudora,” said Melissande gravely, “something very wrong is going on at Wycliffe’s Airship Company. Something that’s endangering a great many lives.”

“What?” said Eudora Telford, stiffening. “Oh, no, Your Highness, you must be—”

“
Eudora
.” Melissande gave the woman’s plump hand a little shake. “Trust, remember?”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Eudora Telford. “Please, do go on.”

“Miss Markham and I have been investigating a case of theft in the office,” Melissande continued. “By any chance did Permelia mention that to you?”

Eudora Telford shook her head, looking hurt. “No. No, she didn’t. And Permelia tells me
everything
.”

“Ha,” Reg muttered. “That’s what
she
thinks.”

“Never mind,” said Melissande. “I expect she was trying to protect the company. But you see, Eudora, the thing is, while we were looking into that trifling matter we stumbled across something far more serious. Something with dire implications for Ottosland. Something I think
you’ve
become tangled in. Because you’re such a very good friend, Eudora, and Permelia Wycliffe trusts you.”

“Oh,” said Eudora Telford faintly.

“And now I must make a confession, Eudora,” said Melissande. “Once you’ve heard it I only hope you can forgive me.”

Gerald exchanged an alarmed look with Monk. What? She wasn’t going to tell the silly woman about snooping through her purse, was she? About finding the gemstones? Because that would be a big mistake. Silly old biddies like Eudora Telford tended to have rigid views about certain things, like privacy and propriety and—

“Settle down, settle down,” Reg muttered. “Give madam some credit. She’s not going to scuttle this, I’ve taught her far too well.”

Eudora Telford’s eyes were enormous. “
Me
forgive
you
, Your Highness?”

Melissande nodded. “Yes. Because you see, Eudora, last night… I lied to you.”

“Lied, Your Highness?” said Eudora Telford, in a very small voice. Tears brimmed in her faded eyes. “D’you mean—d’you mean His Majesty
doesn’t
want me to come to Court and cook for him?” The tears spilled down her cheeks. “Oh. Oh, my.”

Transfixed, Melissande stared at the woman. Gerald could almost see the thoughts whirligigging behind her eyes. “Ah—”

“Of course he does, Eudora!” said Bibbie. “That’s not what Her Highness meant. Tell Eudora what you meant, Melissande.”

Melissande stirred. “Yes. Of course. Ah—what I meant, Eudora, is that the invitation could’ve waited. The reason we followed you to South Ott is because we feared you were in danger.”

“In danger?” said Eudora Telford, dabbing her cheeks dry with her hanky. “Me?”

“Oh yes,” said Bibbie fervently. “Terrible danger. Awful danger.
Dreadful
danger. The kind of danger that—”

“
Thank you
, Emmerabiblia,” said Melissande, glaring. “I think the lily is sufficiently gilded.” She looked again at Eudora Telford. “I’m sorry, Eudora. Please be brave, because there’s more. We believe Permelia is in peril too.”

“
Permelia
?” gasped Eudora, her hanky dropping unheeded to the carpet. “Oh no! Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Melissande. “Which is why it’s imperative that you tell me what you were doing in South Ott, Eudora. Because there’s a good chance you hold the key not only to saving Ottosland from a terrible tragedy… but more importantly, saving Permelia as well.”

“Blimey,” Reg muttered. “Madam’s getting really good at this.”

Watching Melissande’s excruciatingly manipulative performance, Gerald could only agree. Heartfelt sincerity was practically oozing from her pores. She was wasted being plain Miss Cadwallader: Rupert should get her onto New Ottosland’s diplomatic merry-go-round without delay. He glanced at Monk, who was staring at Melissande with
such
a fatuous look on his face…

Blimey. Smitten doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Eudora,” said Melissande, her green eyes terrifyingly intent behind her glasses. “I know it feels like you’d be betraying a confidence. I know what it’s like to care so much for someone that you’d do practically
anything
to keep them safe… even when that little voice in your head is trying to tell you that might not be what’s best for them.
Listen
to that little voice, Eudora. You and I both know it
always
speaks the truth.”

Silly Eudora Telford blinked, her plump face softly undecided. And then it settled into firmer lines. Something approaching determination pressed her plump lips together. Melissande, seeing the change, released the woman’s hand and sat back.

“Do excuse me for a moment, Your Highness,” said Eudora Telford with a kind of crumpled dignity. “I think I have something in my room that might assist you.”

“Good work, Melissande,” said Gerald softly, as soon as Eudora Telford had left the parlour. “You’ve got her, I think.”

“And
I
think I need a bath,” said Melissande, just as softly, with a shiver of distaste. “
Honestly
. That poor, silly, gullible woman! I’m as bad as Permelia Wycliffe, taking advantage of her like that.”

“Oh, give it a rest, ducky,” said Reg. “You’re only doing what needs to be done.”

“She’s right, Mel,” said Monk. “You don’t have a choice. And you’re being as kind as you can. So don’t—”

“Shut up everyone,” hissed Bibbie, who’d leapt up to keep watch at the half-closed parlour door. “She’s coming back.”

A moment later Eudora Telford returned, a small black pouch in one hand and a piece of folded paper in the other. Resuming her seat, she clutched them in her lap.

“Permelia called me,” she said, her voice unsteady. “She begged me to help her. She said I was the only person in the world whom she could trust.”

“And of course you said yes,” said Melissande, her voice gently encouraging. “You said you’d love to help.”

Eudora Telford nodded. “I always help Permelia. We’ve been friends since childhood. That’s what friendship is, isn’t it? Relying on each other. Knowing there’ll always be someone there to help you.”

“Ha,” Reg muttered. “
She
calls it friendship.
I
call it being a dogsbody at the beck and call of a domestic tyrant.”

Gerald agreed, but twitched his shoulder again. The last thing they needed was for Eudora Telford to hear Reg’s sarcastic running commentary.

“That’s certainly how I always think of friendship, yes,” said Melissande. “So, Eudora, when Permelia called you… what exactly did she say?”

Eudora cleared her throat. “She—she told me Ambrose had done something very foolish, and that if anyone found out about it he’d get into terrible trouble. She wouldn’t tell me what it was that he’d done, and naturally I didn’t ask. I just promised to do whatever I could to help him.” She blushed. “There was a time once, many years ago now, when Ambrose and I—but alas. It was not to be. Ambrose had a higher calling.”

“The family company,” said Melissande, nodding. “Of course. How noble of you, Eudora, to give Ambrose his freedom like that. Few women would be so self-sacrificing.”

Fresh tears glimmered in Eudora Telford’s eyes. “I loved him,” she whispered. “What else could I do?”

Melissande cleared her throat. “Nothing, of course,” she said, her voice husky. “All right. So Permelia called you. What happened next?”

“I went to see her,” said Eudora. “She gave me this pouch and these instructions and swore me to secrecy. Oh dear…”

“And then you went all the way to South Ott,” Melissande said quickly, before Eudora Telford changed her mind. “To meet with someone on Permelia’s behalf. Is that right?”

Eudora Telford nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“South Ott’s not a very nice part of town, Eudora,” said Bibbie. “Even I was a bit nervous going there, and I’m a witch.”

Eudora Telford nodded. “Yes, it was rather frightening,” she said unhappily. “But Permelia was so worried she’d be recognised, which would cause more trouble for Ambrose, and—and—she
asked
me. Friends do things for friends. How could I say no?”

Gerald found himself glancing at Reg, and then Monk, who raised an eyebrow in wry resignation. Eudora Telford was right. Friends
did
do things for friends. How could they criticise the silly woman after the risks
they’d
taken?

“Yes, well,” sighed Melissande. “It mightn’t have been terribly sensible of you to go off like that alone, Eudora, but I’m not going to fault you for your loyalty.” Reaching out, she touched her fingertips to the woman’s knee. “Have you any idea what’s in that pouch?”

Eudora Telford shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. No. Permelia told me I mustn’t open it.”

“I understand. But I think
I
should open it, Eudora. I think I need to see what’s inside. And I need to know what she wrote in that note, too.” Melissande held out her hand. “May I?”

Gerald held his breath, and heard a little gasp as Reg held hers too. If Eudora Telford got cold feet… if she decided not to betray Permelia Wycliffe’s confidence…

Now they were all holding their breath, staring at poor Miss Eudora Telford—who should never have been put in this awful position.

“Oh dear,” she said, and handed over both note and small black pouch.

Melissande briefly closed her eyes. “Thank you, Eudora.” In silence she unfolded the note and pretended to be reading it for the very first time. When she was finished she looked at Eudora Telford, her face grave. “I don’t suppose you’ve listened to your wireless this morning?”

“No,” said Eudora Telford. “The knob’s broken and I can’t aff—that’s to say, I haven’t had time to get it fixed.”

“Then you wouldn’t have heard. Soon after we left South Ott last night there was an explosion, Eudora. In an old, abandoned boot factory. One man was killed. His name was Haf Rottlezinder.”

Eudora Telford turned parchment pale. “But—but—”

“Yes, Eudora,” said Bibbie. “That might’ve been you if we hadn’t convinced you to leave with us.”

For a moment it looked as though Eudora Telford might faint. “Oh—oh, I do feel unwell.”

Bibbie snapped her fingers at Monk. “You there. Factotum. Run to Miss Telford’s kitchen and bring her a glass of water. Well? What are you gaping at, you silly man?
Go
!”

Glaring at his impossible sister, Monk went.

Melissande was holding Eudora Telford’s hand again. “Deep breaths, Eudora. I know it’s an awful shock.”

“Give me the pouch, Your Highness,” said Bibbie. “Let’s see what Permelia—I mean, Miss Wycliffe—wanted you to give the late Haf Rottlezinder.”

Melissande handed over the pouch. Bibbie opened it… upended it… and a stream of gemstones poured into her cupped hand.

“
Mercy
!” gasped Eudora Telford. “Do you mean to say I was carrying a fortune in precious stones on my person?”