Crown Phoenix: Night Watchman Express Page 13

Chapter 13

  Virgil’s New Partner

  essons on the following Friday finished early with no lines to memorize so Mana could get Miriam ready to meet Mr. Cantwell. Miriam, who had actually begun to enjoy learning poetry, complained as Mana vigorously brushed her hair, “But why can’t I do my lines? It’s not as if anyone wants me down there really, except maybe Neil. Or perhaps, Simon.” Her voice jerked as Mana brushed through the black curls; luckily, the comb came from the Lampala islands and had wide, long teeth that didn’t tug on her hair.

  Miriam craved that comb as soon as she saw it. The comb was made of hard Bolemor wood that had darkened with age, and the top was carved into a pattern that looked like wind, or waves, inlaid with what Mana said were small, round shells. Miriam, however, pretended to herself that they were actually pearls. Although, anyone could have told her that pearls that large, and that lustrous, would have been worth a king’s ransom.

  “You would have been happy enough about missing your lines a few weeks ago,” Mana commented mildly, putting the comb down and gathering the long, black hair up in one hand. She rapidly braided Miriam’s mane, twisting the strands into an intricate pattern behind the girl’s head.

  “May I please wear your comb on top of my head like a conquistador’s lady?”

  “Absolutely not. There. Now, let’s see how presentable you are - yes, you look quite nice and tidy. Off you go.”

  “Can’t I look at the back of my head with two mirrors?”

  “No. There’s not enough time. Dinner will start in fifteen minutes.”

  “Can’t you come down for dinner too?”

  “Certainly not.”

  Miriam dared to take one peek in the glass as she was shepherded to the door. The curls were already escaping from the braid around her face, and her legs seemed to be rapidly growing longer. She was certain that she looked like a fright. “How do you stay so neat all the time?” she asked.

  “By not asking questions and doing what I’m told,” Mana answered. “Go on, out with you.”

  Downstairs, Furnace opened the drawing room door for her. Uncle Virgil was standing behind Theodosia’s chair, a glass in his hand as usual, and a stranger sat opposite them on a sofa. Miriam could see the back of his head, which looked sleek and polished. Simon and Neil were side by side, balanced on the edge of an uncomfortable settee.

  Theodosia, uncharacteristically, was smiling at something the stranger was saying to her in a confidential murmur, but as Miriam entered the room everyone stopped and turned around. Simon looked at her, and his eyes widened. I’m not that hideous, Miriam thought. Neil just gave her a quick thumbs-up.

  “And this is Miriam,” Theodosia volunteered.

  “Our little ward,” Virgil added, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Come and sit down, my dear.”

  “Hello, Miriam,” the stranger said, smiling. He patted the sofa beside him. “At last. I have been looking forward to meeting you. Won’t you sit down here beside me?”

  Miriam sat down on a hard cushion as far from the stranger as possible. Oh, well, she thought resignedly, the torture will be over in a few hours. Still, Mr. Cantwell, for that was how he introduced himself, was very nice to her, and his eyes smiled into hers as he inquired how she was.

  “I’m very well, thank you,” Miriam answered. She breathed a sigh of relief as the adults turned back to each other and continued their conversation. Still, Mr. Cantwell continually turned to her to include her in his comments. “I was just saying that the sea air nearby seems to be doing some good for your aunt and uncle, is it not? Don’t they both look well? As well as their son, of course.”

  Since there was no polite answer to this, Miriam merely raised the corners of her mouth. “Please, Mr. Cantwell,” Theodosia said, inserting herself back into the conversation, “tell us about your home. Where do you live?” Her hand went up to the tightly rolled cushions of her hair, and Miriam realized that Aunt Theodosia found Mr. Cantwell very attractive.

  “My home, such as it is,” he answered, “is the one place where I can truly be myself. Wouldn’t you agree with that, Miriam? My sister lives there with me, and I speak for us both, when I say that it would be my extreme pleasure for her to meet such charming company.” He inclined his head as he spoke and smiled at Theodosia, and her cheeks grew pink.

  “The pleasure would be ours, dear fellow.” Virgil throttled the decanter and pouring some red liquid into three glasses.

  Theodosia touched her lips to her glass and put it back on one small glass table. “Where did you work before you came to Pearson’s, Mr. Cantwell?”

  “My last company wasn’t nearly as good as this one,” Mr. Cantwell replied. “It is a pleasure to work with a man of the future like Marchpane.” Uncle Virgil grew rather pink as well and began to bluster, and Miriam made silent gagging noises. On the settee, unseen by his parents, Simon rolled his eyes and held his nose.

  “True vision is so hard to find, as I’m sure Miriam will discover for herself one day,” Mr. Cantwell continued. “Is that not so, Miriam?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Wait until you’re spoken to before you speak yourself,” Theodosia muttered. Miriam wanted to retort that she had been spoken to, but that might have reflected back on Mana. On the whole, it was easier to sit and be quiet and hope to be ignored.

  “And do you have any other family, Cantwell?” Virgil asked.

  “None to mention,” the man replied, “not like yourselves, with such a charming familial group.” He waved his hand to motion at Simon and Miriam. “Alas, my sister and I are alone in the world.”

  “And is your sister married?” Virgil crossed one long leg over the other.

  “Really, Virgil,” Theodosia said in her snapping tone, “our guest will think we are interrogating him.” She smiled at Mr. Cantwell as she spoke.

  He laughed, exposing a lot of very white, even teeth. “Oh, now, you are to feel free to ask as many questions as you like. I am here on suffrage, am I not? It is a wise man that listens to his wife in business, and I hope that Miriam remembers that in the future, when the lucky man who wins her heart claims her as his bride.”

  Miriam colored and looked down at her toes. She knew she was going to hear all about the winning of her, later on from Simon and Neil. They would expound on the poor fool who won her heart too, she was certain. She didn’t dare glance at them. Neil would make her laugh.

  “Do you not agree?” With a start, she realized that Mr. Cantwell had spoken to her and was waiting for her answer.

  “Oh, I–” What would Mana say? She would be polite and tactful, that was certain; Miriam could try to do the same. “I do indeed,” she replied. “How well you put it.”

  Theodosia looked at her in astonishment, and she gazed back at her guardian. “Miriam,” Theodosia said, “I think perhaps that it is time that you went back to the schoolroom.” She snapped her lips closed after this pronouncement.

  “To the schoolroom?” Mr. Cantwell crinkled his eyes with amusement. “But I thought were a young debutante at the very least! I was going to ask you to play for us after dinner!” He laughed, and Theodosia’s smile became forced.

  “No, I really must insist,” she said. “Young girls must get their rest and not bother their elders.”

  A host of angry replies came to Miriam’s tongue, but she bit them back. “Very well, Aunt Theodosia.” She got to her feet and turned for the door, realizing that Mr. Cantwell had risen with her.

  As she closed the door behind her, she heard him say, “Charming, really! Some day she’ll be a –” The end of the sentence was cut off by Theodosia’s usual expostulations.

  Miriam climbed the stairs, relieved that she wouldn’t have to stay and listen to her aunt’s conversation during a long, formal dinner. The cheek!

  Of course, Simon and Neil had to stay and talk to that pompous ass. She giggled and pictured the conversation going on downstairs. Perhaps Cantwell, at this very moment, was calling th
em the Young Masters. Maybe, she hoped, Simon was now getting the lecture and question treatment from Mr. Cantwell.

  Still, something bothered her. As she slowly clumped up the stairs, she remembered that for all the questions he had been asked, Mr. Cantwell had never really answered them. He had talked a great deal, but he never revealed any information about himself.