Power and Prestige: A Fantasy Austen Retelling (Magical Regency Book 1) Page 3
“I do hope we can return home tomorrow,” Cassia said to the gentlemen their third evening together.
“Are you sure she is well enough?” Blythesome couldn’t ask enough times at every meal after her sister.
“She is much improved. You’ve made her so comfortable here. The healer you sent for was so skilled, helping her fever break so early. I am sure she would not have had such careful treatment anywhere else, even at home.”
Blythesome smiled widely. Caliazo then turned toward her. “And I hope, Miss Cassia, that you have felt no ill effects from our time in the rain?”
“Oh no,” Cassia said, looking him in the eye. “I have been fortunate to possess the strength of the family. I am a prodigious walker.”
“What a fine thing to be sure,” said Caliazo with a large smile which accentuated a becoming dimple on his right cheek.
“You don’t often walk alone, I trust,” said Darkwood, who had been brooding and silent most evenings, only recognizing her with a few glares.
“On the contrary, sir, I am not afraid of a solitary ramble now and again.”
High Mage Darkwood just shook his head. The cold pressing wind met her neck for a moment then seemed to disappear.
It was clear Blythesome hated the tension. “I am glad the healer did his work well. As for tomorrow, I will make sure the carriage has ample cushions and blankets.”
“Thank you so much,” said Cassia as she wiped the napkin across her mouth. “I should return to my sister,” she said, excusing herself from the room.
The three men stood, two smiling, and one with a strangely pensive scowl.
Chapter Three
The next morning as Cassia took Gynelle to the stairs with the help of Mage Blythesome, she heard Alyria in the Netherfield entryway, commencing speech before Cassia stood at an appropriate distance to do so.
Her younger sister’s voice started with an impatient burst. Her brown ringlets shook vigorously. “I came to collect you, for Mother declares she needs all her daughters home. You see, Master Clovis sent a letter two days ago telling us he should arrive today. At any moment. Aren’t you excited? I don’t see why I couldn’t be the only daughter home to receive him. I’m sure he’ll like me best anyway. I hope he is handsome, for I shall persuade him to marry me!”
“Oh goodness,” said Cassia, at the bottom of the stairs now, close enough to take Alyria by the arm. She left Gynelle with Blythesome. How her sister could spew out such words in a guest’s house she couldn’t fathom. Cassia pulled Alyria out of earshot. “You should not speak so openly, for it makes you sound too interested in gentlemen. I am sure Mother is in a panic. Probably Father too. Let me settle Gynelle comfortably in our own carriage then. Master Clovis’ coming early declares him to be the oddity I figured he’d be—arriving three days before his scheduled time.”
She turned back to Blythesome. “I suppose we shall not need your carriage any longer.”
He nodded, and Cassia allowed Mage Blythesome to escort her sister out the door.
At the last moment Caliazo and Darkwood came to the threshold. Caliazo smiled widely. Darkwood merely nodded with a solemn bow.
After a slow ride home, Master Clovis did indeed arrive by supper, and the family received him over an exceptionally large haunch of pork.
“To whom do I owe the compliment for this delicious dinner?” he asked as he looked from Alyria to Cassia. Alyria smiled widely, but she wasn’t to thank.
“Master Clovis,” said Mistress Retton with a forced smile, “We most definitely keep a cook. And a few other servants.”
He took a sip of his drink and continued. “Very good! And I noticed you have your own carriage too. And quite a lovely copse of trees…”
He continued to compliment Mistress Retton on her home, in the perfectly distasteful musings of one who would inherit due to the rule of male heirs. Cassia wondered just how long the ledger in his mind had grown.
Cassia couldn’t help but notice that the man chewed like a cow, his jaw rotating in a circle as he masticated the meat. It may have been a large amount of pork, but the quality was still quite poor. His brown hair fell across his forehead in small clumps, shiny with grease. His face had no vibrancy, his small eyes almost sinking into his brows. And his voice when he spoke had a painful whine.
“The only thing that could render this impeccable meal any better would be an addition of very fine truffles. I take great pride in my ability to grow, cultivate, and locate truffles. It is, if I may be so modest, my gift.”
At such a statement Cassia bit her tongue swiftly. Alyria, however, inserted herself.
“I did so wish to hear what kind of magical ability gave you the rank of master,” said Alyria, “Do tell us.” She flicked her hand at one bouncy curl, which seemed to move with as little caution as her eager mouth.
Master Clovis straightened. “Oh, had you not been apprised? I would think such things talked about. Indeed, my father made sure I was presented before the local magistrate. You and I both know neither of our families are rich enough for a court presentation. But yes, I was indeed found to be of the magical ability of master, and my strength lies in cultivating and finding truffles.” He stopped only long enough for a quick breath. “In fact, my esteemed patroness, Magess Degowyn, has her cook purchase them weekly from me. I run quite a lucrative side business beyond my living by selling my truffles. Several people, her Magess included, believe that ingesting my truffles increases their natural gifts and abilities.”
“I see,” said Cassia, smiling. The oddity before her allowed for no other facial sentiment. “And when you say find truffles,” she led him on, “what exactly do you mean?”
“Yes, yes. Most people employ some type of swine to do the truffle hunting, but my natural abilities allow me to locate them without any assistance!” Ending with such a proud, cheery tone only added to the instant mental picture of Master Clovis snuffling and snorting in a pink and brown jacket on hands and knees, his portly belly grazing ground, his boar like sensibilities employing themselves.
Master Clovis entirely missed the amusement that pulled at Cassia’s cheeks. Instead he moved right on dominating the conversation. The fact that Alyria clapped her hands a few times and praised him did not help. She had always been impressed with magic, having seen very little of it.
Cassia noticed then Master Clovis’ elaborate ensemble, with his fancy stick pin and over-decorated lapels. It wasn’t really conservative enough for a rector. His truffle business must provide him ample extra income.
When he finished a very large plate of food he looked to Mistress Retton. “I would love to read to my fair cousins after dinner if they were to find it agreeable.”
“Indeed,” cried Alyria, but Cassia could not help but notice her father’s eye roll in her direction. The man’s reading, no doubt, would be just as odd as his truffles.
Master Clovis took up Fordyce’s Sermons and read for a half hour. The topic referenced how a woman ought to maintain decorum, and the content must have been completely lost on Alyria, for she appeared to like it.
By that time Cassia had had enough of his monotone drawl and sent a look to her father.
“Thank you, Master Clovis,” he said. “Perhaps our Cassia could perform for us on the piano.”
More than happy to oblige, Cassia sailed to the instrument.
During the second piece, Cassia watched Master Clovis move closer to her mother.
“Oh, no no,” she heard her mother say, “But Cassia…”
Cassia decrescendoed until her dynamic fell to pianissimo, but it was too late. Their covert whisperings were over. Throughout the night Cassia marveled at her mother’s cheery tone. Clearly something more plea
sing than magical truffles must have been the topic of conversation.
The evening drew to an end not soon enough. Before retiring, Mistress Retton suggested both girls, excepting Gynelle who was still not fully well, should walk with Master Clovis to Meryton the next day. Alyria couldn’t have responded with any more possible volume or a more emphatic sigh of delight. Cassia nodded, grateful for the prospect of at least leaving the house the next day.
“May I use your carriage to go into Meryton?” Gaius asked Blythesome the next morning.
“Of course, though I ought to come with you, if we are to hold a ball here at Netherfield. I need something splendid to wear…”
“Go easy on the gold trim. It gives you away,” said Gaius.
Blythesome chuckled. “Why do you wish to go?”
“Ember warned me it may be in Meryton,” Gaius watched his friend nod his head. This wasn’t the first time Gaius had left Blythesome to chase what he had lost.
His chase was for good reason.
As soon as they reached the tailor’s shop, Gaius told Blythesome not to wait for him and set off toward the town square.
A relic always remembered its owner. The Darkwood relic came from his mother’s line in the form of a pocket watch, and it had been missing since last winter. Relics retained additional power for the owner. When a family member lay dying, they could imbue into it their power, increasing the family relic’s power. Gaius still had plenty of business ability—his words and persuasive mental pressure usually convincing others to agree to his ideas. But the relic would give him even more ability to do so, and in the wrong hands it could do serious harm.
Such an item ought not be lost, especially in the Darkwood’s case, for generations had made it extremely effective and strong. The danger and agony of its disappearance tore at him. It was stolen away from him just a few months ago, reported lost at Pemberley while Gaius had been traveling.
Ember had informed him again that the relic was in Meryton. Gaius had searched last week but found nothing. Now that familiar heat, the feeling he recognized when the relic was close, rose inside of his chest and propelled him down the street.
The sound of militia drums pounded. Finding that pocket watch would be impossible. It could be anywhere with anyone here—though only a skilled mage would know how to access its power. Regardless, he never should have left it at Pemberley.
The pounding inside of him grew stronger, his own internal pressure mounted. He came to the street corner and watched the militia march by, scanning each face for...for something. He did not know what, exactly.
The group passed and then seemed to disband, the drums coming to a stop. As the cloud of dust from their march settled, Gaius saw two ladies and a rather portly, uncomely fellow waiting as a few officers scurried to join them. The man he did not recognize, but the pleasant face of the one female and the overly giddy shrill voice of the other told him they were the two younger Retton daughters.
An officer turned back up the street toward the waving hand of Alyria.
“Lieutenant Deston, do come say hello! And tell us of your new friend.”
Gaius stood on the other side of the street, and none of the party had any awareness for anyone except for the people directly before them.
That was when Gaius noticed Lieutenant Deston’s friend.
It couldn’t be.
An urge to rush across the street and throw the man to the ground rose within him.
He had sworn if he ever beheld his face again, he would—
Instead he reined in his anger and listened.
“This is Lieutenant Malum,” said Lieutenant Deston to the giddy Alyria. “He has been transferred to our regiment.”
Malum bowed gallantly, and then proceeded in a quieter tone, which Gaius could not quite make out. The customary warm manners and captivating charm of Tytus Malum clearly impressed the ladies.
Gaius’ anger still burned, and he tried to pay attention to the call from the pocket watch. Was it Malum, then, who stole it? Gaius had assumed it impossible. People with no magical ability couldn’t generally use a relic. Perhaps it was Malum's mere presence that caused him anger now.
Without further thought Gaius strode across the road.
“We are purchasing ribbons; would you care to join us?” crooned Alyria toward the new gentleman.
“Of course,” answered Malum.
Lieutenant Deston walked in front, the young women in the middle with the portly other gentleman, who Gaius had not caught the name of, and Malum came last.
Gaius positioned himself to directly intersect with only Malum as they turned toward the shop. If he could but touch him for a moment, he would know if Malum somehow held the relic on his person. Malum shouldn’t be able to access its power, but still Gaius wanted to be certain.
Gaius kept his head down and when Malum came into view he reached up and grasped his bicep. Tytus Malum thrust his own hand up on instinct to push the man away and their eyes met. Gaius stopped for a moment, and Malum froze. Cassia, who stood just in front of them, stopped walking and looked over her shoulder.
Gaius again resisted the urge to land a fist in Malum’s face and tried to focus on what he felt. Gaius waited for the familiar feeling, but the relic wasn’t on Malum. If it had been, he would have felt the presence of it, even if it was concealed in a pocket. His eyes narrowed, studying Malum’s blue ones. It was then Gaius felt someone’s eyes on the back of his neck. Without so much as a nod or a greeting, he continued down the street away from Malum and their party.
So that awful man didn’t have it. He rubbed his fingers against his palm. Then who could have stolen it? How was he ever going to find it?
He turned his head over his shoulder. Everyone had gone into the milliners except Cassia, who peered down the street at him. How much had she noticed of their interaction? At once he wished he was close enough to try his magic on her and see if she’d finally agree with him on something.
He shook his head. Why had he given her a second thought? He had a relic to find and Malum to avoid.
Chapter Four
“It was ever so kind of your family to invite us newcomers to your card night,” said Lieutenant Malum to Cassia on the Tuesday following. He sat now across from her, while Alyria, Lieutenant Deston, the ever-present Master Clovis and even Gynelle remained entranced by a robust game of lotto. The more intimate tête-à-tête with Malum was what she had tried to contrive all evening.
Cassia, who had taken a sip of punch at precisely the moment of his speech, swallowed, thankful for a natural pause to compose an answer.
“Of course. All of us, I daresay, know a good-humored fellow when we meet one. We know when it is worthwhile to increase our circles.”
“Naturally,” said Lieutenant Malum. “And I heard it is not only Lieutenant Deston and myself who have had the honor of making acquaintances with your set. Is it true that your family is well-connected with Mage Blythesome?”
The couch which they both employed had a safe distance between them but Cassia leaned slightly closer. “I cannot say well-connected, for Mage Blythesome and his party have only just entered the county and taken Netherfield. But I think I am safe in saying that the man has shown some particular interest toward my sister, Gynelle.”
Lieutenant Malum looked askance toward her sister and smiled. Cassia could not help but notice that the straight, sure smile and pleasant eyes gave him a genuine air. “Does your family approve of him?”
“Yes, though I think my mother would like anybody, if he were handsome, rich, possessed some kind of magical ability, and showed interest in her daughters. Not to mention he was very generous to our family when Gynelle was sick a sennight ago.” This was the direction Cassia had wanted the conversation to turn, at least in part. She had to know what had happened between him and High Mage Darkwood. “Are you acquainted with Mage Blythesome, Lieutenant Malum? Surely you approve of him. Everybody here does.”
“I know of him, though not di
rectly. From what I have heard, he is quite generous, perhaps to a fault.”
“Are you saying it is a fault to help out where one sees a need?”
“No...it is just that Blythesome has certain natural...tendencies. They ought to be guarded and used wisely. Just like anyone with magical abilities. Do you not agree?”
Cassia studied his handsome blue eyes. His countenance was altogether easy, and on this point Mistress Retton and all three girls had agreed, which in itself must vouch for its validity. But still, there was something disagreeable between him and High Mage Darkwood’s party. “I have lived in Hertfordshire my entire life, Lieutenant. People with abilities don’t usually come to Meryton and the surrounding areas.”
“They have come now,” said Lieutenant Malum. “Surely you understand Blythesome’s lineage.”
“I have heard rumors, yes. But he seems quite benign.” said Cassia. “To what exactly do you refer?”
Malum lowered his voice a hair. “Blythesome can turn things to gold. I have seen evidence of it.” He smiled, and something about it made her believe him, when so many other accounts of Blythesome’s ability seemed overinflated.
“Can you be really sure? The obsession with this lineage is archaic.” She answered. “A person’s monetary holdings speak much higher in today’s modern world. Don’t you agree?”
He rubbed his palm on his trousers. “Of course one’s holdings are paramount. A man’s land, his per annum. But one’s exceptional abilities should not be overlooked. So much the better if he has both.”
Cassia nodded. If these magical abilities were true, she wanted to be appraised of them. “What...evidence do you speak of?”
“Darkwood has a golden paperweight that he carries with him, to assist him as he writes his letters. Blythesome turned it to gold, so they claim, from a stone from the brook at Pemberley. As a gift for Darkwood’s twenty-first birthday.”
“You have all but won!” came Alyria’s voice from the other table. Cassia had to know more before they were interrupted.