A Thousand and One English Nights (Book Three of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Fifty One: The Pied Piper

If there was laughter at the Academy – and not just the hollow, knowing, cynical kind – it was because of Elsie. 

Danvers was adamant that, as his sister, she didn't have to work, but somehow she found ways to weave herself into the daily life of the place until she was indispensable. She waded through the steam and condensation on laundry day as though she was Stanley searching for Dr Livingstone in the dripping depths of the Congo, and took enormous pleasure in beating the stains out of the sheets in their washtub. Her little, pointed mouth was always in motion, with smiles, pouts, and chatter.

It was Candlemas Day – a sunny Candlemas Day, which, according to popular wisdom, would presage snow on May Day – and Miss Ginniver's wedding was due to take place that afternoon. Somehow, it had become a symbol of recovery for all of them. Without really talking about it, they had decked out the Academy and its gardens as though it was already spring. They put up a maypole in the frosty fields, and sewed little pink rosebuds into the bridesmaid's dresses.

It was something of a holiday, even though the entire household was busy making garlands and preparing cakes and pastries. The slave-girls managed to find time for gossip and games. 

They had already played the parlour-game of trying to take sixpence off the top of a mound of flour using only your teeth. The resultant smudges on Elsie's face were now the focus of Danvers's attention. He was trying to brush the flour out of her hair and beat it out of her skirts, but was only succeeding in smearing it over a wider area. And her inability to stand still didn't help matters. The kitchen tables were laden with jellies, ices, baked apples and bread pudding, and Elsie – who couldn't see them – was busy savouring the smells, and trying to prod the jellies.

Behind him, the other girls kneaded dough and slid pans in and out of the oven, and generally made all the sounds of delicious industry. Unfortunately, this was not loud enough to drown out their chatter.

"It's the wedding night that bothers me," Miss Mary was saying, as she dusted nutmeg over the bread pudding. "Could be fractious if Ginny gets 'er way."

"What makes you say that?" said Miss Katherine.

"Haven't you 'eard the speech Jack gives to any man brave enough to marry into our little family? One of 'is biggest rules is no 'anky-panky on the wedding night. They're only allowed to cuddle. And you know Ginny – she just wants to get back to normal as fast as possible. She wants to do everything an ordinary woman would do on 'er wedding-night. And if that includes a clumsy fumble with some oaf 'oo don't know what 'e's doing, so be it."

Danvers, who'd had some presentiment of where this conversation was going, managed to cough over the last sentence and pretend that it was because of the clouds of flour.

"If I were her, I'd take him up on a quiet night's cuddling," said Katherine. "I know from when I went back to my husband, you get a man on top of you – doesn't matter who he is – and you can't stop thinking--"

This time, Danvers coughed more vigorously, and Katherine broke off, looking guiltily at Elsie. For all their worldly experience, they had no desire to disillusion Elsie. Maybe they needed her innocence – or needed to believe that there was still such a thing in the world.

"Perhaps the puddings are ready to be sent up to the marquee, Miss Katherine?" he said meaningfully.

Katherine gave him a surly look, but she took up the hot dish with a tea-towel and left the kitchens. The other girls followed, and in the ensuing silence, Danvers listened to Elsie humming and counted his own anxious heartbeats. He wondered how much she had heard.

They had never talked about what had happened to the slave-girls. As far as he knew, she was unaware of it. How would he tell her that they'd been molested and tortured? What would happen if he was obliged to explain to her about evil?