Dark Mirror 2 - Dark Passage (8 page)

Even without being heated, she had to admit the stupid pudding smelled very good, with tantalizing hints of spice and dried fruit and fine brandy. But Christmas puddings weren’t meant to be eaten alone, and there was no way Cynthia would share it with the awful girls who’d given her the cut direct.

There wasn’t much to do at Lackland over the holidays. The only teacher left on the girls’ side was horrid Miss Macklin. Cynthia took a book to the refectory so she could read during her solitary meals. The only volume she could find was a beastly collection of sermons, but at least it gave her something to pretend to read.

She whiled away her days with embroidery and walking the spacious grounds. Once she stood on the edge of the cliff and watched the crashing waves of the English Channel below. Would anyone miss her if she fell? Tory would have the whole room to herself, so she’d probably be happy.

Turning away, she reminded herself that Napoleon loomed on the far side of the channel like a great hungry beast, making plans to invade England. If the little tyrant tried, he’d have to get past
her.
In her present mood, she could destroy any number of stupid tyrants.

Occasionally she considered leaving the school through the Labyrinth, but where would she go from there? Lackland village was small, and none of the Irregulars who lived there were particular friends.

There was Jack Rainford. She’d worked with him very closely in the weather brigade because they were by far the strongest weather mages, but he was the most
annoying
boy. Still, they were friends, more or less. She’d never had a boy for a friend.

Christmas Day began with a long, boring service in the chapel, where Cynthia had a whole pew to herself. Then a decent midday dinner, for which she had little appetite. Now all the other girls were gathered in one of their bedrooms to have a party. They’d discussed within Cynthia’s hearing all the cakes and sweetmeats they’d share, along with good sherry and brandy.

She hoped they all
choked
on their stupid hazelnuts!

The room was so dark she could barely see the crack in the ceiling. Shivering from the chill, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She’d never studied hearth witchery because it was vulgar, but she was cold enough to reconsider.

She concentrated on the coals in the tiny fireplace, imagining them burning hotter and brighter. The coals brightened faintly, but not enough to warm the room. She’d have to replenish the coal.

As she added a shovelful of coals, someone tapped at the door. She ignored it. Probably one of those stupid girls had decided to practice some Christian charity because it was a holiday. Well, Cynthia didn’t need any of them.

The door swung open. Catching the motion from the corner of her eye, she glanced over. Good heavens, a
man
! She scrambled to her feet, wondering wildly what spells she might use to drive him off.

The newcomer stepped forward into the room. Jack Rainford, tall and broad-shouldered in a heavy cloak, his fair hair catching the firelight. As disgustingly handsome as always. “What are you doing here!” she exclaimed. “Boys aren’t allowed in the girls’ school! Not
ever
!”

He gave his usual infuriating Jack Rainford grin. “There’s no one around to notice or care.” He opened his hand to show a small, water-polished pebble. “I brought a stealth stone so no one would see me, but I didn’t need it. Your reputation is safe.”

“
I
care! Get out of my room
right now
!”

“I’ll leave,” he said with a wicked smile. “But you’re coming with me.”

“You have lost your mind,” she said with conviction. “Your grasp on sanity was always weak, and now you’ve descended into sheer madness. Why would I want to leave the school with you?”

“To have a nice Christmas dinner in good company,” he said. “We should get to my house about the time the goose is done.”

“I’ve already had Christmas dinner,” she snapped. “It was served to the students from both schools, and it was the best meal the abbey serves all year.”

His brows arched. “That’s not saying much.”

Too true. Voice starchy, she said, “I can’t accept an invitation from a man.”

“The invitation is from my mother. I am but her emissary.” He gave her a warm, almost irresistible smile. “I guarantee that our dinner will be much better than what you had here. We’ll end with that splendid plum pudding you left in the Labyrinth.”

She frowned. “Why were you in the Labyrinth when there were no classes?”

“I like to check every few days to see if Nick Rainford has sent a message. His life is a lot more interesting than mine.” Jack looked a little envious. Leave it to a stupid boy to think it was “interesting” to be in the middle of a catastrophic war!

Jack frowned. “I’m getting worried. There hasn’t been a message from Nick in over a fortnight. One can’t help but wonder…”

Cynthia shuddered as she remembered the menacing roar of the heavy guns as the Nazis and Allies pounded away at each other. Lackland was right on the Straits of Dover and could easily be bombed from horrible airplanes or pounded by artillery. Her imagination produced a ghastly vision of a Nazi bomb smashing into the Rainford home. The whole family could be dead.

She really liked the Rainfords, even though they were commoners. Mrs. Rainford and Polly had been very welcoming, and Nick was less annoying than Jack. “I’m sure he and his family are fine,” she said, trying to convince herself. “He’s probably just too busy to walk out to the abbey.”

“Probably you’re right,” Jack said. “But if there’s no message from him in another fortnight, I may go through the mirror to find out if they’re all right.”

Appalled, Cynthia asked, “Could you travel there without Tory’s help?”

“Nick made it back here on his own. I think I could manage the return journey. Probably.” Dismissing the topic, he said, “Come along now. The goose is waiting.”

“Why would I want a second Christmas dinner?” Except that she did. She’d been too miserable to eat much, and she’d finished Tory’s shortbread days ago.

“Because the abbey is a flat bore over the holidays. Another day or two and you’ll be kicking the walls.” He grinned. “In a very ladylike way, of course. My mother thinks that since you provided the pudding, you should share in it.”

“Lady Fairmount sent the pudding, and Tory left it for me when she got an unexpected invitation to her brother’s house. I couldn’t eat that great thing so I left it to the Labyrinth. I thought the Irregulars would share it after the holidays.”

“Well, I took the pudding home. I promise that a Rainford Christmas dinner will be far more amusing than sulking here in a cold room.”

“I’m not sulking!” Cynthia scowled, privately admitting that he was right. This was such a ghastly holiday that even joining a family of commoners sounded good. Jack’s younger sister, Rachel, was pleasant, and his mother seemed nice.

A thought struck her. “Your mother is the best hearth witch around, isn’t she? Could she show me how to keep this room warm in spite of the suppression spell?”

“She could probably teach you a few tricks,” Jack said. “Rachel is good, but she hasn’t anything like Mum’s experience.”

“Very well, I’ll join you for dinner,” she said ungraciously.

He beamed, and she realized he hadn’t been as confident about persuading her as he’d pretended. “Then grab a cloak and come along. It’s cold out there.”

She gave a horrified thought to her appearance. She was wearing her plainest gown, and her hair fell in slatternly tangles around her shoulders. “I’m not going out to dinner even in a farmhouse dressed like this!” she exclaimed. “Go wait in the corridor until I change.”

He rolled his eyes. “You look fine as you are. If you must change, do it quickly. I’m hungry.”

“Out!” she ordered. “And no peeking!”

Smiling, he ambled from the room while Cynthia considered what to wear. She was tempted to change slowly just to irritate Jack, but she was hungry, too.

She didn’t have any choice, actually. Her most fashionable garments needed the assistance of a maid, and all the servants had been given a half day off because it was Christmas.

After her visit to 1940, Cynthia had reluctantly conceded that Tory was right about having clothes that could be put on without assistance. A letter to her father’s secretary had produced two gowns that were easy to wear, if not very fashionable. The garments had arrived after most students left for the holiday. She was wearing the plainer gown now since none of the other girls would help her dress.

The second new dress was a little prettier, so it would have to do. She certainly couldn’t ask Jack Rainford to fasten the back of her gown.

The fabric was a shade of blue that enhanced her eyes and there was a rich band of embroidery on the hem and bodice. Though too simple for a dinner with her own kind, it would do for a farmhouse. She donned it quickly, ran a brush through her hair and pinned it up, then put on her heaviest cloak and a warm bonnet.

Jack was lounging in the corridor, juggling small mage lights. Like the other members of the weather brigade, his power had increased during their marathon of magical work. “You didn’t take quite as long as I expected.” He tossed her one of the lights. “Most girls need more time to pretty themselves up than you do.”

“Is that a compliment?” she asked suspiciously as they headed toward the stairs.

“I guess it is,” he said thoughtfully. “Even when you worked endless hours and looked like something the cat dragged in, you looked like a
pretty
cat.”

She was tempted to hiss like a cat, but settled for tossing her head as she led the way downstairs.

As Jack said, the abbey was so quiet that stealth stones weren’t needed. They used the tunnel in the cellar of the refectory to enter the Labyrinth. It was a relief to move out of the abbey’s suppression spell.

The Labyrinth felt a lot less empty with Jack at her side. Say what one would about his social status and appalling sense of humor, Cynthia grudgingly admitted that he did have presence. When Jack was around, he was impossible to ignore.

They crossed through the main hall into the tunnels that connected to the boys’ school. Cynthia had never been on this side of the Labyrinth.

As they entered a tunnel on the left, Jack touched the small magical patch high on the corner. It flared purple. “This is the route I always use for coming and going from the Labyrinth. The tunnel comes out in a beech wood near the road to the village.”

“I wonder why none of the tunnels on the girls’ side lead off the abbey grounds.”

“To protect you frail creatures,” Jack said with a laugh. “Whoever dug these tunnels obviously couldn’t imagine warrior women like you.”

There was real admiration in his voice. Surprised, Cynthia said, “I’m no warrior woman. If some horrible soldier attacked me, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“You’d call lightning down on his head and fry him like an egg,” Jack said promptly. “Even Boadicea couldn’t do that when she fought the Romans.”

“You know I can’t call lightning unless I have a storm to work with.”

“You’d come up with something.” His voice turned serious for a change. “We could never have controlled the weather over the channel without you. I have more experience and perhaps more raw ability, but you’re inventive. You came up with some clever ways of shifting winds that I’d never thought of. We were good partners.”

Stupidly, she felt a warm glow of satisfaction. Why did it have to be Jack Rainford who fully appreciated what she’d done?

They walked steadily until the tunnel ended in a flight of stairs leading up to a door. “Time to dim our mage lights,” Jack said as he touched the magical patch on the frame at the top. The door swung silently open to reveal the beech wood and a blast of cold, damp night air.

Cynthia was surprised to see a saddled horse placidly munching hay nearby. “We don’t have to walk?”

“I wouldn’t ask a fine lady to walk all the way into the village on such a cold night,” he explained. He patted the padded contraption behind the saddle. “You’ll have to ride pillion, though. I dug out the old seat my great-grandmother used when they rode to market.”

“That is the ugliest horse I’ve ever seen.” Cynthia brightened her mage light to confirm what she was seeing. “Walleyes, a mule nose, lop ears, and he’s pigeontoed. Have I missed anything?”

“He’s long-backed, too.” Jack stroked the beast’s neck affectionately. “Pegasus had a hard life, but he has good heart. He’ll get us to where we’re going.”

“Pegasus?” she asked incredulously. “Could you possibly have picked a less appropriate name?”

“I thought he needed a name to live up to.” Jack mounted, then reached down to give her a hand. Cynthia hesitated. She was a good rider in a proper sidesaddle, but perching on a horse’s rump was a different matter. “Is that contraption safe?” she asked as she studied the pillion seat dubiously.

“As long as we aren’t galloping away from armed highwaymen. The pillion seat is attached to my saddle and there’s a girth and a tail strap.”

“It probably hasn’t been used since your great-grandmother’s day,” Cynthia muttered. But she didn’t want to go back to her cold, lonely room, and annoying as Jack was, she trusted him to keep her safe. Even a horse moving at slow speed would be quicker and warmer than walking.

“I cleaned it just for you,” he assured her.

She took Jack’s hand and stepped on his stirruped, booted foot. With his help, she managed to swing around awkwardly and perch sideways behind him.

“All settled?” he asked.

“Well enough.” The padded seat was surprisingly comfortable and the back edge turned up to help keep her safely in place. The footrest was set for a shorter woman, but it did give her a place to rest her feet. She slid her arms around his waist, very aware of the hard, strong body under his heavy cloak. “Just don’t let highwaymen find us.”

Chuckling, he set Pegasus into a smooth walk. “If that happens, we’ll just have to call down the winds to blow them out to sea!”

CHAPTER 9