“They’re coming along nicely,” said Mr. Grenville, looking out at the brown-and-gray expanse of the main garden and the students who were wandering through it. “ As far as I’m any judge.”
“Someone must be,” Olivia replied, smiling. “You’re the best qualified by far, and so I’m gratified to hear your good opinion.” Lightly as she spoke, she’d felt her shoulders lift at the praise, and the brisk day seemed a little warmer as she glanced over at the students.
In that moment, they could have been young people anywhere. Charlotte was laughing with Michael and William, pointing out some feature of the statuary with brisk and exaggerated gestures. Nearby, rather to Olivia’s surprise, Arthur was talking with Elizabeth, both looking very interested in a group of now-dead plants. As Olivia watched, Arthur reached over and tweaked one of Elizabeth’s red braids, and the younger girl actually giggled.
“Be gratified if we all survive the winter. That’s all I’m asking. With all of us in one house, I wouldn’t dare tempt Fate by requesting more.”
Olivia laughed. “More people have endured with less room, I’m certain. You must have been at school yourself. I know my cousins were, and their dormitories were far more crowded than we’ll be. Have a seat,” she added, gesturing to the expanse of stone bench beside her.
Obligingly, Mr. Grenville sat down “They were. And ships at sea have less room still. Neither schoolboys nor sailors can command the storms, though. Not for the most part.”
“I’ll keep an eye on Michael, and keep him busy, as much as I can.”
“Oh, Joan and I will do our parts,” said Mr. Grenville. “Have no doubt of that. Gareth, too, if he’s amenable.”
Olivia kept her face pleasant and calm. She hadn’t spoken to St. John in days, except for a few chance and formal encounters in the halls or on the grounds. When she’d gotten his note, she’d torn it to small shreds, dumped the shreds into the fire, and then wondered which aspect of his conduct he’d meant.
“How’s he managing now?” Mr. Grenville asked. “Delaying the storms, that is?”
“I—oh. Michael?” Olivia cleared her throat. “Not badly. His moods still disturb the clouds a little, whether he’s intending to do anything or not, but now he’s able to make contact without making it rain immediately. It’s very encouraging.”
A most unmanly yelp broke the air. Olivia glanced over to see if there was cause for alarm, and saw Arthur clutching at the back of his neck while the other students succumbed to various degrees of laughter.
“A spider, I think,” said Mr. Grenville cheerfully, “and Fitzpatrick as the agent. I shouldn’t worry about it. Boys, you know.”
A few words crossed the garden to Olivia’s ears: perfect beast and get you for this. However, there was laughter in Arthur’s voice, and she thought Mr. Grenville’s advice was for the best. None of the other students, after all, looked alarmed.
“Do you know,” Olivia said, “I think nothing we teach can do as much good for them as putting them here together. Showing them that other people have special abilities and can learn too, so they needn’t either feel freakish or put on airs. That sort of thing.”
“Where they’re concerned,” said Mr. Grenville, “I think you’re quite correct.” He smiled when he spoke, but there was a slight emphasis that reminded Olivia of the second purpose of Englefield and its students. “Certainly in cases like Elizabeth’s. We can be of more benefit to her than the other way around.” He added with a fond smile, “Joan would say we’re probably helping the world that way too, by preventing whatever damage could result from Elizabeth’s power going untrained. But Joan thinks she must see the bigger picture whenever possible.”
“Someone ought to,” Olivia replied and then laughed. “And I suppose traditionally it should be one of us. Cosmic vision and so forth.”
Mr. Grenville chuckled. “I’ll endeavor to develop some.”
“Once we survive the winter?”
“Indeed. Or perhaps you’ll step in and save me the trouble.”
Olivia laughed again and shook her head. “I think cosmic vision has to be cosmically small as well as cosmically big,” she said, half-seriously voicing thoughts she’d never quite said aloud before. “Whatever form of it mortals have. In any case, I’m quite satisfied now that Elizabeth’s not shooting up into the air once a week and nobody’s getting lost in the forest.”
Also as long as she was getting a regular salary, she reminded herself, and more-than-decent room and board. One didn’t say such things, certainly not in front of one’s employer, but they were important to keep in mind. Olivia wondered at herself, briefly, that she hadn’t thought of her finances earlier in the conversation. Perhaps she should ask for more salary if they made it through the winter unscathed.
Don’t count your chickens.
“Is she still having nightmares?” Mr. Grenville asked.
Olivia shook her head. “Or if she is, she’s getting down by herself. I’m quite relieved.”
“For a number of reasons, I expect.”
“Oh?” she asked, a little higher than she meant to.
There was no knowledge in Mr. Grenville’s face, though, and he simply shrugged. “I’d imagine you’re fond of a good night’s sleep.”
“Yes, rather” Olivia laughed and tried to make her heart stop racing. Guilt hadn’t thrown her off in years, for heaven’s sake, and now she was acting like one of the students caught at mischief.
The mischief in question didn’t bear thinking of. Certainly not here and now. Olivia shifted uncomfortably on the bench and cleared her throat. “I haven’t found anything in your books about the forest,” she said.
“I would expect as much,” said Simon. “Eleanor and I aren’t the first to spend more time away from Englefield than here. Father’s position keeps him and Mother abroad most of the year, and has done so ever since I can remember. You might talk to some of the servants,” he suggested.
“Only if you wouldn’t mind,” said Olivia.
Mr. Grenville shook his head. “Not in the slightest. I’d be glad to find out, and I fear I don’t have as much time for research as I used to.”
That evening, as Violet was putting away her clothes, Olivia remembered the earlier conversation and turned from her mirror to look at the maid. She was young, sixteen, as Olivia had found out during one of their brief conversations, and the woman in the village had been old. All the same…“Violet, did you grow up here?”
Violet turned, one of Olivia’s skirts still hanging from her hand. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve never been anywhere else, not really.”
Olivia hadn’t expected a different answer. Over the last few weeks, as Violet had acted the part of not-quite-lady’s-maid, she having other duties and Olivia not needing much help except for the dinner party, they’d had a few brief conversations. Mostly, these had consisted of Olivia making some friendly overture and Violet asking a myriad of questions before she remembered propriety. Questions about London, about Kent, about any place other than Englefield.
Now that the tables were turned, Olivia felt rather awkward. “Ah, did you ever hear about the forest? The one here?” she added unnecessarily.
She wasn’t sure what reaction she’d been expecting. A stifled laugh certainly hadn’t been among the possibilities, though. “Ah—” Olivia began again.
“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” Violet said, sobering up at once. “It won’t happen again, I promise. It’s only…I should have expected one of you to ask before this, given…” A sweep of her skirt-bearing hand took in Englefield as a whole.
“I didn’t know the place was that infamous.”
“Oh, it’s not, not really. Just old stories and that. Nothing…nothing bad. Violet bit her lip, her forehead wrinkling. “My grandmother used to talk about a child or two who disappeared there, but that’s what her mother had told her, so like as not, she was just trying to get us to behave.”
“And children do go missing, even in quite normal forests,” Olivia agreed. Carefully, she plucked a pin from her hair and set it on top of her dresser. “Especially back in those days, I’d imagine. It must have been wilder then. What else did your grandmother say?”
“Not her,” Violet replied. “Not exactly. But there was an old lady in the village. Mrs. Colton. She died when I was just a girl,” she added with all the sage and wintery hindsight of sixteen. “But she said if you gathered wood from the forest when the moon was full and brought it to her, she could look into the fire and tell you who you’d marry.”
“Did it work?”
Violet shrugged. “I suppose so. My friend Patience’s older sister said it did. The way Patience tells it, Mrs. Colton just said Kitty’d marry a dark-haired man, and any girl ’round here would have her pick of those.”
“They aren’t very rare, it’s true,” said Olivia, smiling. She’d had her palm read once when she’d been around Violet’s age. The crone, or pretend crone, she thought now, knowing the tricks that could make a healthy, middle-aged woman seem ancient and raddled, had said Olivia would go over water to live. When she and Tom had crossed into London, she’d probably been fool enough to think of prophecy too, the number of creeks between her father’s estate and anywhere else notwithstanding. “And men have seen things there, I hear?”
“Any man hunting in the forest, ma’am, would as like as not have been in a state to see anything at all,” Violet said with unusual crispness for her. “It’s Mr. Grenville’s property, after all.” She hesitated.
“But Mr. Grenville wasn’t here for years, or any of his family. I’m sure anyone who went into the forest when they were gone was just doing so out of…service. Keeping the population down and so forth.”
“Well,” Violet said, drawing the word out. “I did hear about animals that talked sometimes. But I never gave it much credit. Not until—”
She stopped. No matter. Olivia was fairly certain she could finish the sentence on her own. “It is strange,” she said, “having one’s point of view so suddenly expanded. A bit like the first time on a boat.”
“I’ve never been, ma’am. But you seem to have your sea legs well enough.”
“In some matters, yes,” Olivia said. She thought of St. John’s lips and of the way she’d forgotten about her salary for a bit that afternoon, and sighed. Her hair, free of its pins, went tumbling down her back. “Less so where other things are concerned, I fear.”