Garth Nix - Newt’s Emerald

“Really?” asked Charles. He hesitated, then said, “I did not wish to ask you to do so, but it had occurred to me that if Lady Plathenden intends to use the Emerald, then she will make an even greater effort to either have you assist her, or ensure you cannot play any part against her.”

“That thought had also occurred to me,” said Truthful. She shivered, and added, “So I will be sensible and stay out of sight. I am not exactly afraid, but I do remember that bone wand, and how she ordered us drowned . . .”

“I was afraid,” said Charles quietly. “I fear drowning, perhaps more than any other kind of death. I have been in several battles, and half a dozen skirmishes, but I was never so afraid as when I was tied to that bowsprit.”

“You never showed it,” said Truthful. “I thought you were just angry.”

“That is how many men hide their fear,” said Charles. “I must look up Commander Boling one day and make more fulsome apologies and offer greater thanks.”

“For rescuing us?” asked Truthful.

“Not just that,” said Charles. “I had our people keep watch on him, for he was in London for some days. Drunk or sober, he never said a word about you. Not one word, not even a hint about a beautiful young lady on a traitor’s ship. Few people are so discreet, and even fewer naval officers!”

“Drunk or sober?” asked Truthful, thinking of many of her father’s parties. “That is no idle boast.”

She fell silent then, and gazed at the fire, listening to the familiar chit-chat of Edmund, Stephen and Robert. They had moved on from transportation to boxing, and were heatedly discussing a championship match that had taken place when they were all in short pants and none of them could have seen.

“You are tired,” said Charles.

“A little,” admitted Truthful. She yawned, covered it with her hand and forced herself to get up. “I was thinking that by this time tomorrow night it should all be over. We will have the Emerald safe, and I can go home, and make my father well.”

“We will have the Emerald safe,” said Charles, bowing over her hand. “Good night, Newt. Sleep well.”

The day of the Masquerade ball dawned very bright, the weather promising a perfect Spring day. Very few of Lord and Lady Otterbrook’s guests saw the actual dawn, but Truthful was one of them. She had awoken with the first rays of the sun, and half-asleep had called out, “Agatha!” as she had done so many times before, to ask for her chocolate to be brought up.

Having uttered that name there was no more sleep to be had. Truthful slipped from her bed and though she was not as a rule particularly religious or a great church-goer beyond every second or third Sunday, she found herself kneeling by her bed and offering up a prayer for Agatha’s soul, and for her own. She was uncertain on the theology of whether someone of fay parentage actually had a soul, but thought it better to err on the side of caution.

Thinking of caution, she afterwards prayed for Charles as well, that he be safe, and then she went through her cousins, and her great-aunt, and the Otterbrooks and even Sergeant Ruggins, so that by the time she finished it was considerably later and she had very sore knees.

After hot chocolate brought by a maid whose mumbled name was either Maude or Mary, Truthful bathed and dressed, far more carefully than she had for many days. But when at last she went down to breakfast in the most charming dress of Italian crape lined with exquisite Flemish lace, that effort proved to have been wasted. Her intended audience, Charles Otterbrook, had already breakfasted and left the house to supervise a cordon around the Old Ship and to have the Assembly Rooms searched, to be sure no infernal devices had been secreted there.

True to her word, and once again erring on the side of caution, Truthful did not leave the house that day. She saw Charles once, when he returned to see that she was still safe and to confer with Sergeant Ruggins, and she saw her cousins several times, severally and together, as they returned for fortifying drinks and snacks and even a hasty luncheon.

As the day dragged on, the tension inside Truthful began to build. She began to prowl restlessly about the house, until Lady Badgery emerged with fez on head, and insisted that they play cards until it was time to begin their preparations for the masquerade ball.

Being in Brighton, the ball started early, at eight o’clock. Truthful, Lady Badgery and Lady Otterbrook took supper together at six. They spoke little, and Truthful spilled her wine. She was glad when it was over, and they could go up to dress.

Coming back down shortly before half past seven, she saw Charles already below so she paused on the stair. This time, she caught the light perfectly, the red-gold rays of the setting sun making her white and silver costume flash and her red hair looked as if too was aflame.

Charles looked up and caught his breath, shading his eyes as if blinded by an actual goddess. As he was in costume as Hermes, himself clad in a golden raiment with wings on his boots, this looked rather theatrical and made Truthful laugh.

“You are a lovely Diana,” said Charles, taking her hand. “Have you tested your bow?”

“And you are a handsome solar messenger,” replied Truthful. “As for the bow, I have put several holes in the wall at the end of the corridor opposite my room. It shoots well enough and the arrows have actual points. Great-aunt’s Turkish knife is in my quiver as well, and I am wearing your bracelet.”

“Aunt Lucy’s bracelet, in fact,” said Charles. “She was kind enough to lend it to me.”

“Oh,” said Truthful. “I wish I had known! I must thank her.”

“She will be down soon, I am sure,” said Charles. “Aunt Lucy is never late, and she must be first to greet the guests. Though Uncle is already there, practicing with his waves.”

“Has there been any sign of Lady Plathenden?” asked Truthful.

“Not yet. Sir Everard is looking through all the guests as they arrive, piercing their glamours and costumery, so she shall not get in unobserved. Ah, here are Aunt Lucy and Lady Badgery. A pirate and a . . . I am not entirely sure . . .”

“I am the Empress Theodosia,” sniffed Lady Otterbrook, who was wearing a white toga with a purple stripe and a crenelated crown of gold set with large square gems. “I thought anyone could see that.”

“It was on the tip of my tongue,” said Charles. “Forgive me! You make a very grand Empress, Aunt. And a very bold pirate, Lady Badgery. Is that a real cutlass?”

“It is,” replied Lady Badgery. “And I had it sharpened this morning. Holds an edge like a razor, my boy. Like a razor!”

“We had best be getting along,” said Charles. “The carriage is ready.”

Though it was a very short distance to the Old Ship, it took some time to get there. The crush was not so great as for Lady Mournbeck’s ball, many of the guests choosing to walk, but there was an added delay due to the enthusiasm of the constables, who insisted on examining the interior of all conveyances, and who had already arrested three mermaids who proved to be blameless.

However, shortly before eight, Truthful, Charles and the two elderly ladies were climbing the stair to the Assembly Rooms, past the standing footmen attired as Vikings, most of whom were actually government agents.

“Those axes look surprisingly authentic,” whispered Truthful to Charles as they passed through the double doors into the main ballroom, under the musician’s gallery.

“They are,” said Charles. “Borrowed them from the Tower, General Leye brought them down this afternoon.”

“Charles,” called out Lady Otterbrook. “Go and fetch your uncle from his ridiculous corner. I need him to stand with me to greet the guests.”

“Remember, at least two dances,” said Charles, relinquishing Truthful’s arm before heading over to the far corner, where the Marquis, in a horned helmet and a bearskin was standing on his throne and gesturing at several footmen who had large pasteboard waves affixed to their backs. They were crouched down in a line, and on his signal, slowly shuffled forward and back.

“Lady Truthful, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

Truthful turned and smiled at General Leye.

“And you sir. You know my great-aunt, Lady Badgery?”

“Know him?” whispered Lady Badgery in Truthful’s ear. “We were subalterns together in the Buffs.”

“What’s that you’re saying?” enquired General Leye, with a twinkle in his eye. “Blackening my name, Ermintrude? I don’t suppose you’d care for a rubber or two of picquet?”

“I certainly would, General,” replied Lady Badgery. She looked over the ballroom. It was beginning to fill up with gorgeously costumed guests, the orchestra had begun to play and soon there would be dancing. There was no immediate sign of a malevolent mermaid or Lady Plathenden in any other garb. “Presuming we can be spared. The card tables are in the other chamber, I perceive, as usual?”

“I believe young Otterbrook has matters in hand,” said the General. “In any case, someone must watch in the card-room as well. A shilling a point?”

“Let us say sixpence,” replied Lady Badgery, taking his arm. “And a guinea the rubber.”

As soon as they had departed, Truthful was once again besieged by gentlemen hopeful to secure a dance. But to every enquiry she gave the same answer, “I am sorry, I am already spoken for, Lord Lytchett has that dance.”

Before long this response was noted unfavourably not only by the gentlemen concerned, but by several mothers of the type found terrifying by Edmund Newington-Lacy. They found common cause in quietly disparaging comments about Truthful’s character, conduct and dress and in the fact their own offspring had failed to attract Charles Otterbrook’s attention at all. They ascribed his apparent penchant for Truthful’s company not to her beauty or address, but as likely being due to the Viscount — never known as a gamester — suffering some secret loss requiring him to repair his fortune by marrying an heiress.