I DON’T KNOW how many minutes passed before Lady Eleanor and Sir Peter came in. I turned but didn’t stand and didn’t look up.
She ran to me, then stopped. “Did someone insult you?”
“No one insulted me.” My gaze stayed at the height of her waist.
Lady Eleanor crouched so we were at eye level. “Many people don’t have even two loyal friends, and you have Master Warwick, Squire Jerrold, Peter, and me, who won’t desert you, come what may.”
My fangs ran with rage whenever she said Peter without his title. I knew Mandy was bristling, too. If she turned him into a toad, we’d both rejoice.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw him bow.
Lady Eleanor began, “Won’t you—”
“Mistress Evie?” Squire Jerrold and Mistress Daria came in.
I raised my head to see how Sir Peter and the squire would behave in each other’s company after yesterday’s accusation.
Squire Jerrold’s jawline tightened. His cheeks reddened, but he bowed to Sir Peter and Lady Eleanor. “Good evening.”
Sir Peter smiled and bowed. “How delightful to see you in pleasanter circumstances than yesterday’s. I’m relieved His Majesty was clement.”
He was a snake. No—unjust to snakes.
Lady Eleanor frowned at Squire Jerrold—the defamer, she believed—but she embraced Mistress Daria. “How sweet you look.”
Mistress Daria hugged Lady Eleanor back and then addressed me. “Mistress Evie, I must tell you . . .” Her voice moistened. “I’ll be in your debt forever.” Tears rolled down her broad cheeks. “My good father and mother owe their lives to you. Owe them entirely. They were near . . . both were near . . . when you came.”
My throat tightened—and I became angry again. I liked her when I wanted to hate her.
“I’m so happy”—she curtsied to Lady Eleanor—“this ball is in Mistress Evie’s honor.” She turned back to me. “And so happy to be able to thank you.”
“I’m glad your parents are well. I hope they and you will come back to me if anything else troubles them.”
Squire Jerrold volunteered, “Mistress Daria tells me she’s ill as rarely as I am.”
If a shoe grew out of Squire Jerrold’s rib cage, it would be as useful to him as I was, and as he was to me. I found myself laughing. An orange shoe? A lady’s slipper? Round toe? Pointed? I laughed harder.
Except for Mandy, they all stared.
If Lucinda somehow changed me back, would my mind and heart ever return to their old state?
Squire Jerrold and Mistress Daria exchanged a look. She curtsied and left.
As I went on laughing, Sir Peter said, “Mistress Mandy, can you give Mistress Evie a chop or other edible? I believe she’s in need.”
Lady Eleanor sent him a grateful look for what she imagined to be his thoughtfulness.
I was certain he meant to embarrass me. I gasped out, “I don’t need a chop.” Of course I did. I always did.
Mandy said, “I wasn’t about to bring one unless you asked for it.”
Sir Peter said, “Love—”
Ugh! My laughing diminished.
“—your guests may be wondering where you’ve gone, and I need another dance with you.”
“In a moment.” Lady Eleanor knelt by me.
“You’ll dirty your skirts!” I said.
“Never mind that. You are the guest of—”
“Evie . . .”
Was Wormy bringing his new sweetheart to make me laugh again?
But he was alone. He stood just inside the room, as tentative as he used to be.
Oddly, that cheered me a little. “Yes, Wormy?”
“Evie, I feel faint.”
I jumped up. “Sit.”
I didn’t have my medicaments. What would a cook have on hand? I thought of an easy remedy, one of the first I’d ever learned. Wormy wouldn’t enjoy it. No one did.
“Mandy, can you pour two fingers of vinegar in a cup?”
In a trice she had. She knew what I had in mind, because she also gave me the pepper grinder. I turned a generous helping of black pepper into the vinegar. “Wormy . . .”
“Not snail and hedgehog!” he said.
I smiled and extended the cup.
He leaned away at the caustic scent. “I’m better.”
I didn’t need ogre ability to sense everyone’s amusement. “It’s a general tonic,” I said. “Squire Jerrold, even though you’re never sick, you’ll feel invigorated.” I held it out to him.
His courage had limits. He declined. I extended the cup to Sir Peter, who bowed and also said no.
Lady Eleanor laughed. “I’m not keen for it, either. We’re all cowards.”
“Wormy?”
He drank it down. The others applauded.
His eyes ran. He sneezed. “I’m better now.” He laughed, too. “Don’t dose me again.” His eyebrows went up. “I am better!” He stood. “Evie always cures me.”
“You may not know I was the first she cured of the blight,” Squire Jerrold said.
Was he boasting about me? “First in this outbreak.” I’d treated it before.
“Yes, of course.” He added, “If you return to dancing, please remember your promise to save one for me.” He bowed and left.
Sir Peter lounged against a cabinet and covered a yawn with his hand.
Lady Eleanor gave him a sharp look. “Mistress Evie, won’t you return, please?”
“I will. In a while.”
“I’ll look for you.” She left with Sir Peter.
Wormy stood. “I should go, too.”
Why should he? “All right.”
But he didn’t. He just stood there.
“If we were home, you could help me work.”
He said nothing. He used to be more eager and more friendly.
“I would have made us ginger tea.” Why had he ruined it all by proposing? “Mandy, can I have a few chops now?”
She placed a platter piled with pork chops on the worktable, where we stood.
I sat in the chair Wormy had vacated, took off my gloves, and ate with my hands. “Would you like one?” I spoke with my mouth full. Let him see. At the supper, let them all see.
“I’ll have one.” He reached.
I moved my platter away. “Mandy will serve you.”
Mandy pulled another chair to the worktable, then brought him two chops. He sat and picked one up with his hands.
I wished the kitchen wenches would leave so I could read his feelings.
“I approve of your partner,” I said.
“Who?” He spoke with his mouth full, too.
Had he danced with so many? “Dark, petite. Mistress Chloris? I approve of her posture.”
“I wouldn’t dare dance with anyone who slouched.”
I smiled with meat stuck between my fangs. “Or dare court such a person.”
He didn’t deny it.
I went on. “Why didn’t you tell me you were giving people funds?” Why did you desert me and not visit?
He put down his chop half eaten and pushed his plate away. I took it to be a rebuke.
“After a disaster, people need money. That was one of my reasons for coming to Frell. And to report your well-being to your mother.”
Not to see me. “I wrote to Mother!”
“She doesn’t trust you to tell her the worst.”
He didn’t know the latest worst, since he hadn’t visited.
“I’ve heard the rumors.” He did know.
“You didn’t tell Mother?” Fear would make her ill!
“I didn’t. She’d get sick.”
“Thank you.”
When I’d devoured everything, including his leavings, I felt as near full as I ever did. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
Wormy said, “You promised me a dance.”
“Can we dance in here?” We used to dance in my apothecary in Jenn.
He hummed a minuet. We faced each other, stepped close.
“You don’t smell like yourself.”
I didn’t want to give Mandy away. “It’s a remedy, but just for tonight.”
He frowned. “But you don’t smell like yourself at all. You used to, even after—” He couldn’t go on. “Despite the other odor.”
Really?
He resumed humming. I joined in, curtsied, and stepped back. He bowed.
The next step involved clasping hands. Our greasy hands met.
I tingled, which meant nothing. But, since the touch was prolonged, the feeling strengthened, became almost painful. Was Wormy enduring anything like what I was going through?
His eyes twitched. His hands were cold.
Mandy picked up the beat of my heart with a wooden spoon against an iron pot.
To my relief, the dance had us drop hands to bow and curtsy again. But more contact was coming. Why hadn’t I asked for a saraband?
He took my hand to lead me to his left side. Now both hands for me to cross to his right. We let go again to face each other for a third bow and curtsy—not much exertion, but we both were breathing hard. I took my place next to him. He grasped my right hand. Three steps to the side.
Holding hands without respite, forward and back, side to side—intolerable. I rescued my hand and stumbled into a chair.
I saw his chest rise and fall, too. “Are you faint again?”
He sank into his chair. “I’m fine.”
“No more vinegar and pepper?”
He smiled.
I breathed slowly, trying to calm myself. “Warmth would make you feel better.” I wished he’d move his chair to the fireplace. He was still too close.
He remained.
I went to the window that overlooked the back garden. My heart and my breath finally settled.
“Evie-ee . . .”
I turned. “Yes, Wormy?”
“Before I met you at that farm, the road passed through a field where a unicorn was grazing. I—”
My breath quickened again. “You got a tail hair?”
“No.”
Oh.
“I tried. I thought how happy you’d be if I could give you one.” He looked down at his hands. “I didn’t know then if you’d be alive to get it.”
My good friend.
“I chased. It ran. Whenever I came close, it sped up. Whenever I fell back, it slowed. It was playing with my horse. They whickered at each other. Finally, after an hour, it galloped away and left me with just wishes.”
“More than one wish?”
He met my eyes. “A hair for you was one. But also . . . it was beautiful. Smaller than you’d think, smaller than Biddable. Evie . . .” He seemed to be searching for words. “If . . . You should have seen it. If unicorns did a minuet or a gavotte or any of our dances, onlookers would see music brought to life. I didn’t want it to leave. I wanted you to be there, too. Those were my wishes.”
“I might have tried to eat it.”
He chuckled, although I hadn’t meant to be funny. “Bef—” He tried to get the word out, then gave up. “You’d have admired it, but you also would have said, ‘Wormy, dear, that unicorn is health itself—its brightness, its energy. But if it got sick’”—he shook his head, conjuring me up—“‘what diseases might it be subject to? What would I dose it with?’” He laughed outright. “Then you would have listed possible herbs.”
“I would have wondered if its own hair would cure it.” I laughed too. “By then, the unicorn would have been miles away.”
No one understood me or approved of me as Wormy did. How I loved him.
My head spun. I really loved him. Not as before. As now. With the chops in my belly, I was less starving than usual. My mind was clear. I loved him.
And I thought he still loved me. Otherwise, why would our minuet have thrilled him, too? Why would he have wished for me when he saw the unicorn?
Why hadn’t he proposed again?
Why was he courting someone else?