The Dragonfly Pool (41 page)

Karil had not seen her and Tally stood stock-still in the icy cold. There was no escaping what she had seen. If ever there was a boy who was doing what he was best at, leading the life he was born to, it was Karil.

“Come on,” said Kenny.

And she tore up the note she had written and followed him.

A
lthough Karil had long ago given up expecting anything good to happen in his grandfather's house, even he was surprised by the sheer awfulness of the Rottingdene Christmas. There was no tree, no candlelight, no exchange of gifts, no music. The duke took morning prayers, the cook sent up two underdone chickens—and that was that.

Still, it meant that he was not expected to find a gift for Carlotta. Karil was used to hard work, but being nice to Carlotta was one of the most grueling tasks he had ever undertaken. Her treachery, her vanity, her lies seemed to grow rather than lessen with each day that passed, and yet somehow he managed to act the part of a devoted cousin and a prince who wished her to share his life.

And still he did not know yet whether his plan was going to work. His uncles now treated him with respect, the servants scuttled past him, and the governesses curtsied when he came into the room.

But it was the duke that mattered, and two days after what passed for Christmas his grandfather sent for him.

“I have to tell you, my boy,” he said, “that I have been most pleasantly surprised by your behavior in the last few weeks. I understand from Carlotta that you have seen the error of your ways.”

“Oh, I have, sir, I have,” said Karil fervently. “I can't believe now how foolish I have been. And how ungrateful, when you have given me a home and a chance to fulfill my destiny. From now on I shall devote all my waking hours to preparing for kingship. I want to learn to be a proper ruler, not one of those weak kings who can't make up his mind and has to keep consulting his ministers. A king should be an absolute ruler and his subjects should obey him without a moment's hesitation.”

“Quite so. Quite right. I must say, I thought you would never see where your duty lay. What brought you to your senses?”

Karil was ready for this.

“I had a dream, sir. A dream of my future in the palace at Bergania. I was being crowned in ermine and at my side was . . . Carlotta.” Here Karil nearly forgot his script, because even mentioning Carlotta's name made his gorge rise. But he gathered himself together. “It made me realize how fortunate I am to be here—and how lucky I am to have someone who, in good time, will share my life.”

The duke nodded, thinking of the double line of Rottingdene blood that would flow into the restored kingdom of Bergania.

“Yes, indeed. She will make an excellent queen. There are people who think that twelve is too young to decide about one's future bride, but that's just poppycock. Where duty is concerned, one can never begin too young.”

“Indeed, sir, indeed,” said Karil, and stood waiting with his head humbly bowed. Was it going to work or had this whole charade been in vain?

The duke cleared his throat. He harrumphed and considered.

Then he said, “Well, well, we all make mistakes. I think it's time I called off the watchdogs. I'll get the whistles back and tell the servants you no longer need to be followed.”

“And my room at night, sir? The locked door? Of course I know I deserved it, but it is a little humiliating.”

The duke hesitated, and Karil felt his heart hammering in his chest. Everything depended on this one thing.

Then: “Very well,” said the duke. “I'll tell the servants it's no longer necessary.”

Left alone, Karil flopped down on his bed and punched the pillows in triumph. Stage one was completed! Once he was no longer watched and could get out of his room at night he could plan the next part of his escape. For from the moment he had read the letters Carlotta had stolen, he had had only one idea—to escape from this house of snobbery and deceit and arrogance and join his friends.

His troubles were far from over, but he would let nothing dismay him. Among the many unreadable books in the duke's library were some that were not unreadable at all: the stories of Oliver Twist and David Copperfield and Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens. All these boys had run away from cruel employers with almost nothing in their pockets, and all of them had reached safety. One of the obstacles was simply getting out of the house. The back door was bolted and barred at night and the keys kept by whichever footman was on duty. To ask a servant to help him would be to risk getting him into trouble, but luck was on Karil's side. The housemaid George loved so hopelessly left to work in a munitions factory, and soon afterward George announced that he, too, was leaving, going to join the Ambulance Corps.

If he was going anyway, thought Karil, perhaps he could be persuaded to leave the back door unlocked the night before he left.

Everything Karil did now had only one aim: to help him get away. He had taught himself the route to Delderton; it was nearly three hundred miles, but anything was possible when one was desperate. It was no good arriving when the school was empty, but as soon as the Christmas holidays were over he would make a break for it, and he began to assemble things he would need to disguise himself. He found some of Princess Natalia's hair dye in a bathroom, and a pair of wire spectacles that could be made to stay on his nose—and when Countess Frederica came with his fruit juice and rusks he thanked her nicely but he did not eat the rusks; he hid them in a shoebox in his cupboard. They had infuriated him ever since he stopped teething but now they had their uses. Rusks do not go moldy and he could chew them on the journey.

This was the stage he had reached in his preparations when the duke sent for him again.

If he expected that his grandfather had seen through his deception, Karil's fears were laid to rest as soon as he entered the room. The old tyrant looked as affable as he was able, and sitting near him were the three uncles. They, too, looked friendly and relaxed, and even before the duke began to speak Karil was ready to receive good news.

And it was good news! It was incredible, wonderful, and amazing news!

“I have to say, Karil, that up till now I have been utterly opposed to the idea of sending you away to be educated,” the duke began. “Your behavior was such that I didn't think you could be allowed to leave this house. But in the last weeks you have changed so completely that I think you may be trusted to conduct yourself properly even when you are not under my roof, so I have decided to send you to boarding school.”

He stopped to clear his throat and the uncles nodded and beamed. If Karil went away they would no longer have to give him lessons, or lift their behinds from their chairs when he came into the dining room. Only the monkey, who did not know what was going on, continued to look sad.

“As you know,” the duke went on, “many of the world's rulers were educated at one or other of Britain's famous schools—but one of the obstacles has been money. These schools are exceedingly expensive and the cost of supporting all the people in my household is crippling. Not to mention the burden of income tax. The amount of tax I am forced to pay by those scoundrels in Whitehall is outrageous.” The duke's face became crimson as it always did when he spoke about income tax, but he pulled himself together. “However, Karil,” he went on, “I have just received the most gratifying news. One of the best schools in the country has offered you a scholarship. The headmaster has just written to me.”

Karil stood stock-still. He had heard the word “headmaster” and the word “scholarship” and immediately he remembered Tally's words on the train.

I've got a scholarship,
she had said,
so why not you?

After that the duke's words surged over his head unheeded. Delderton had offered him a scholarship, and the duke had agreed to let him go! He'd been wrong to think nobody understood him or cared about him; underneath all his bad temper the old man wanted to do his best, and Karil felt ashamed for having misjudged him.

The duke was still talking about the school.

“Of course, I'm not surprised that they want you—to have a member of a ruling house on their books can bring them nothing but glory. But you may be sure that they understand how to deal with royalty; the place has been a cradle for princes for generations. You will be treated with all the respect due to your rank but with the iron discipline that will help you fulfill your purpose in life. Countess Frederica will take you tomorrow to be fitted for your uniform. Harrods sets aside a special changing room for pupils like you.”

Only now did Karil come down to earth.

“Uniform? But they don't have uniforms. They wear what they like.”

The duke stared at him, frowning. “Don't be foolish, boy. Of course they have uniforms. Have you ever heard of a school which doesn't?”

Karil took a deep breath, steeling himself. Then he said, “What is the name of the school, Grandfather? The one I'm going to.”

The duke told him.

I
t was Magda who was in charge of the school train so the children were being very careful, making sure she had all their names ticked off and that there wasn't too much swirling about. They knew that she had been having real difficulties in the holidays with Schopenhauer and the washerwoman whom he had (or had not) thrown down the stairs, and they would not have stooped to play the kind of tricks they might have played on David Prosser.

So far she had not lost a single child—and the children in her own house were settled in their carriage even though there was another ten minutes before the train was due to go. Paddington Station was in its usual bustle: soldiers coming home on leave crossing with soldiers off to their new postings; evacuees who should have been in the country returning home—and parties of schoolchildren in charge of their teachers marching toward their trains.

And now, in spite of all their care, Magda was in trouble.

“There's one missing,” she said, poking her head around the door and looking anguished. “A new boy called . . .” she peered anxiously at her list, “called Stephen Bellingham. If you see him, let me know.”

They promised, and went on talking of their plans for the term. Tally was in the far corner by the window talking to Julia, who had not troubled to buy
The Picturegoer
because her mother never appeared now in film magazines. Kit, to everyone's surprise, was not crying and saying he wanted to go home.

More children got onto the train. Doors slammed. Verity took her place by the window bar in the corridor so that she could be seen in her new, suitably tattered skirt.

Seven minutes until the train was due to go . . .