![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sandtreeThanks to you guys who commented on the first two chapters. I honestly wasn't sure that anyone would be able to get through them, but I'm happy that it seems to be entertaining people. So without further delay, chapters three and four:
Chapter Three – Mr. Blackstone’s Magnificent Ball
The morning of the ball dawned, and everyone at the Haley residence was occupied with preparing for it. Jane had to be forced to not wear a long-sleeved dress, and Martha insisted that she borrow some of her hair ribbons. Other than these slight obstacles, the day went smoothly.
By seven o’clock, everyone was in their finery, and looking smart. Mr. and Mrs. Haley, Adam, Jane, Martha, and Frederick departed in the carriage, and conversed as it wound through the hilly streets of Bogbury.
“How did Mr. Sevenson manage to get an invitation to Mr. Blackstone’s ball?” Martha wanted to know. “He is not from Valmell, is he?”
“He is Irish by birth,” Frederick replied, “but Joss and I both happen to be good friends with Mr. Blackstone.”
Martha thought this rather odd, but did not say anything else on the matter. They had arrived at the house. It was a grand one, in the very best neighbourhood in Bogbury, and was all lit up for the occasion.
They stepped out of the carriage and made their way up the steps to the front doors. They were shown through into the main hall, which was already packed with people. Mr. Blackstone, upon their arrival being announced, paid them the compliment of coming to greet them himself.
Mr. Blackstone was a man of about twenty eight or twenty nine, with golden blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a laughing countenance. Martha liked him immediately. He seemed a very pleasant sort of man. Her uncle was asking him how he was enjoying Valmell, when she caught sight of another man making his way purposefully toward them.
This man was tall, with shocking red hair, and a ruddy complexion. She watched him with suspicion. Anyone with hair as red as that had to be up to nothing good. It was only when he stopped before her brother, and they shook hands warmly, did she realise that this must be the very Mr. Sevenson that they had spoken of so much in the past few days.
“Joss, how are you?” Frederick inquired.
“Very well, thank you,” Mr. Sevenson replied. “And yourself?”
“I have never been better. And now there are some people I must have you meet. This is my aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Haley, my cousin Adam Haley, my sister Martha Bright, and my cousin Jane Haley.”
Mr. Sevenson bowed to them all, and then addressed Martha directly. “I have heard much about you, Miss Bright. I am glad to meet you at last.”
Martha felt her face colour. “I am sure I had no idea that there was anything to hear about me, Mr. Sevenson.”
He laughed. “This is a poor way to start, in disagreement. I wonder if it might be too bold of me to ask you to dance the first two with me, so that we may work this out.”
She raised her eyebrow in suspicion, but consented to his scheme for plot purposes, and he went away directly. Frederick looked pleased, and she sighed, hoping that he was not trying to play at matchmaking. She wished that if he were going to attempt matches for anyone, it would be Jane. She noticed that Mr. Blackstone was single, and wondered if he would suit Jane at all.
When the first dance began, Martha joined Mr. Sevenson on the floor with the other couples. Frederick was dancing with Jane (likely to please Mr. and Mrs. Haley), and she could see Adam conversing with his friend Oliver Great near the punch bowls.
And the dance started, Mr. Sevenson immediately began to engage Martha in conversation. She found that she fell into it easily enough. He wanted to know all about her year long visit in London, and whether or not anything interesting had happened to her there. She told him about the balls and parties she had attended, all the London gossip, the scandals that had rocked the town and now been forgotten, but did not mention the incident with Pierre Noir. Whether he was her brother’s trusted friend or not, she did not know this Mr. Sevenson, and thought that he seemed a little too interested by her stay in England.
“What about you, Mr. Sevenson?” Martha asked at last, as they did something that clearly demonstrated their aptitude for regency country dances. “My brother and yourself had quite a prolonged tour of the continent. Did anything interesting happen to you while you travelled?”
His expression clouded for a moment, but then he was smiling again. “A great many interesting things happened to us,” he replied. “So interesting, in fact, that it would take days to tell it all.”
“Perhaps you could do it in segments.”
“I fear that I would bore you to death.”
“Mr. Sevenson, really, your travelling the continent cannot possibly be any more dull than my stay in London.”
He bowed his head, conceding the point, but said no more on the subject. The dance ended. When they danced the next, they talked of more mundane subjects, such as the interior of Mr. Blackstone’s house, and the guests who had been invited.
“My brother tells me that you are both good friends with Mr. Blackstone,” Martha commented, as the second dance ended. “I wonder how that came to be.”
“We met on our tour of the continent,” Mr. Sevenson replied, “in Austria. We all got on famously. We have... similar interests.”
Martha thought this answer vague and slightly suspicious, but she could not inquire further, as the dance was over, and it would have been improper for her to linger with him any longer.
When supper came, Jane questioned Martha about her dancing partner. “He is very handsome, is he not?” she observed. “What is he like?”
Martha shrugged. “I haven’t had the time to get to understand him. He is handsome, as you say, I suppose, but his hair is shocking. He seems articulate, and fairly good natured. He is a good dancer, but so are most people. That is all I could tell you.”
Supper had only been in progress for about ten minutes, when Martha noticed dust falling into her food. She furrowed her brow, and glanced up toward the ceiling, then screamed at what she saw there. Pierre Noir was crouched on a rafter, aiming a pistol directly at her head.
She dove out of the way just in time. The bullet ricocheted off her fork and went straight through the wall. Everyone was screaming now. Pierre Noir cursed, and tried to jump from one rafter to the next, but slipped, and fell through the air, landing on the table with a loud crash.
Pierre Noir stumbled off the table and rose to his feet, regarding the gathered company with a stunned look.
“What do you mean by this, sir?” demanded a white-haired man angrily.
“LOOK OUT,” shouted Mr. Sevenson, “IT’S PIERRE NOIR!”
This threw everyone into a panic again. Pierre Noir lunged at the man, and the man was somehow unconscious within moments, though nobody had seen the frenchman make physical contact with him.
Then he turned his attention to Martha, who had been hiding behind a chair. He began to advance toward her, and she was just wondering what on earth she should do, when she noticed that her brother, Mr. Sevenson, and Mr. Blackstone, were all advancing toward Pierre Noir.
The French spy had clearly noticed this, and began to back away, toward a large picture window. His pace increased, and he was running, with the other three men giving chase. Without warning, Pierre Noir crashed through the window, out into the darkened garden surrounding the house.
There was a stunned silence.
“Supper is ruined!” someone grumbled. “I suppose this means the ball is over.”
Everyone began to file out of the hall, but Martha could not leave without her brother. He had run after Pierre Noir, and who knew what sort of danger he was in? She was the only one who had any sort of chance against Pierre Noir – she had to find them, to protect her brother, and the other two gentlemen!
Martha stole out into the garden, her way lighted by the little lanterns along the garden paths. She followed the sounds of shouting, until she came upon her brother, Mr. Sevenson, and Mr. Blackstone. They were standing next to a large picturesque fountain, but there was no sign of Pierre Noir.
“Damn it all!” Frederick cursed. “Oh, sorry, Martha. What on earth are you doing out here?”
“I came to protect you from Pierre Noir,” Martha said stupidly. “But where has he gone?”
“Martha, go back inside,” Frederick warned, but almost before he had uttered the last syllable, Pierre Noir had sprang out of the water of the fountain, and lunged toward him.
“Good God!” shouted Frederick. “This villain can breathe underwater! By God, that’s his secret!”
Pierre Noir allowed him to finish his speech, and then began to strangle him. Mr. Sevenson and Mr. Blackstone tried in vain to wrest the frenchman’s grip from Frederick’s neck, but it was all in vain. There was only one thing for it –
Martha concentrated hard, and used the full force of her mind to push Pierre Noir back. To her surprise, it worked again. He stumbled backwards, and then flew back into the air, over the buildings, until he was just a tiny dot, and the dropped down, down, down, at a very safe distance from them all.
“Martha, you saved my life!” Frederick gasped.
“It was nothing.” She blushed. Mr. Sevenson and Mr. Blackstone were looking at her with admiring expressions.
But there was no time to celebrate their victory. In a flash of blinding, fiery light, a black cloaked figure materialised in the garden, and cleared its throat.
“Ahem,” said the black cloaked figure.
“Oh, no,” said Martha.
“Oh, yes,” said the cloaked man. “I am here as a representative from the Clandestine Council. We detected unauthorised magic in use in the garden some thirty seconds ago. Would any of you care to explain?”
“This is all a misunderstanding,” Frederick assured him.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, you see, it was Pierre Noir.”
The cloaked figure did not have visible eyebrows, but Martha was sure that he was raising them under his hood.
“That is correct,” said Martha, piping up, and then instantly regretting it. “Er – you see, Pierre Noir appeared tonight at the ball – uninvited, I might add! – and he tried to kill me, and then he tried to kill my brother. He was the one who performed unauthorised magic, you see. I would never act against the wishes of the Clandestine Council.” She bowed her head in what she hoped was a respectful gesture.
“Is that so, Miss Bright?”
“Yes?” she said. She bit her lip. He did not sound convinced.
“Very well,” said the member from the Clandestine Council, sounding very disapproving. “We have no way to prove that you were the one performing illicit magic. But depend upon it, Miss Bright, that we will be keeping a very careful eye on you from now on.”
“Wonderful,” said Martha, and the cloaked figure vanished in a whirling of black clouds.
Martha and Frederick finally arrived home at midnight. Martha was exhausted, and went straight to bed. She could hear her brother explaining the events of the night to her aunt and uncle downstairs. Despite her horror at Pierre Noir’s renewed attacks, and her nervousness at being spied on by the Clandestine Council, she fell almost instantly into a deep slumber, uninterrupted until morning.
Chapter Four – Plots Uncovered, Revealed, Outed, Displayed, and Explained
The next morning when Martha went down for breakfast, she was surprised to find her brother and Mr. Sevenson waiting for her. This could not mean good news.
“Good morning, Miss Bright,” said Mr. Sevenson politely, as she sat down at her place and took a piece of toast. “I hope I find you well this morning.”
“Very well, thank you,” said Martha. “And what brings you here at such an early hour, Mr. Sevenson?”
“Martha,” said her brother seriously, “we have many matters we need to discuss with you. The events of last night proved that you are in even more danger than we supposed.”
“Surely you are making too much of this,” she said desperately.
“Not at all, I assure you,” said her brother. “It has been obvious for years that Pierre Noir has wanted to kill you – indeed, he wants to kill us all – but now it appears that the Clandestine Council is simply waiting for the right moment to dispose of you as well.
A shiver went down Martha’s spine. “How can I possibly stand a chance against the Clandestine Council? I’m doomed!”
“It isn’t quite as bad as that,” Mr. Sevenson said, trying to reassure her, she supposed. “The time is ripe to put our plans into action, and Miss Bright, if you choose it, you can be the one who facilitates change, and not the victim.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“We are organising a revolution to bring down the Macalbys and reinstate our family on the throne of Valmell,” Frederick admitted. Martha gasped. “Not only that, but we intend to rid Valmell of the Clandestine Council as well. But this presents serious problems, of course – namely, that the Clandestine Council can perform magic and forbids it in everyone else, and that Finnegan O’Fear is working for the Clandestine Council.”
Mr. Sevenson’s face seemed to cloud at the mention of the name Finnegan O’Fear, something that did not escape Martha’s notice.
“Finnegan O’Fear,” she said quietly, “the most powerful, most evil magician in the world.”
“The very same,” said Frederick. “We believe that he will use the Clandestine Council to his own ends, and then dispose of them, setting himself up to rule Valmell, and then to rule the entire world.”
“His presumption knows no bounds,” said Mr. Sevenson heatedly.
“But what will we do?” cried Martha. “We have no chance!”
“There you are wrong,” said Mr. Sevenson, composing himself tolerably to reply. “From what your brother has told me, and what I witnessed myself last night, you have very considerable power, Miss Bright. If you could only work to harness it, we believe that our plan has a chance of succeeding.”
“And this plan is?”
“To let Finnegan O’Fear use the Clandestine Council and destroy them,” Frederick replied, “and then to have you destroy Finnegan O’Fear.”
Martha was so shocked that she dropped her teacup. It shattered on the table top. “Oh, dear,” she said faintly. “My aunt will turn me out of the house if I am continually the cause of broken dishes.”
“We won’t force you to help us with this, Martha,” said her brother sincerely, leaning forward over the table. “We know it will be very dangerous, and I’m sure we will contrive some way of regaining the crown if you opt not to involve yourself – and we will not think the worse of you for it.”
Martha exclaimed at such a suggestion. “Of course I am going to help you! What sort of person do you think I am? To forgo a chance to rid our kingdom of the Macalbys and the Clandestine Council, and to free the world from the evil machinations of Finnegan O’Fear? Of course, without hesitation, I will involve myself in whatever you have planned on that count. Besides, I am in just as much danger now from the Clandestine Council and Pierre Noir as I would be if I joined in on this scheme – and the way I see it, if I do join in on this scheme, I at least have a chance of coming out unharmed and victorious.”
The men looked very pleased at this answer, but all further conversation on the subject was put on hold by the arrival of the rest of the family for breakfast. The meal went smoothly, the conversation on trivial matters, and after it was finished, the company rose and went about their individual morning tasks. Mr. Sevenson left to return to his own residence, but not before issuing an invitation for the whole family to dine with him that night, which was gratefully accepted.
When Martha and Jane were alone in the morning sitting room, Jane at her embroidery, Martha pretending to be occupied with a book, but really thinking of what plans her brother and his friend could have, Jane said to her, “Mr. Sevenson must like you a great deal, Martha, for I can think of no other reason for a gentleman to rise so early to visit acquaintances.”
Martha, who knew the real reason for Mr. Sevenson’s early visit well enough, was able to laugh such a suggestion off. “Perhaps it is you he likes, Jane. Do not be so quick to discount yourself. How do you know that he does not come on your account?”
Now it was Jane’s turn to laugh. “It was you who he paid the most attention to last night, Martha. And he must admire you terribly for saving Frederick from Pierre Noir.”
“I am sure you are completely mistaken,” Martha said, unconcerned. “If he were to fix on either of us, it would certainly be you, Jane, for you are much prettier than I am.”
Their pointless tête-à-tête was interrupted by the arrival of Oliver Great. He was shown into the room, and seemed immediately nervous upon discovering them.
“Oh – excuse me – I had thought that Adam was here, and I had stopped by to see him.”
“My brother is from home for the whole day today,” Jane answered, “but won’t you sit down? May I offer you some refreshment?”
Oliver took a seat across from them and said, “No, I thank you. Forgive me, I have been terribly rude – how do you do, Miss Haley? Miss Bright?”
They both answered that they were perfectly well, and upon being asked, he replied that he had never felt better.
“It is very good to see you again, Miss Bright,” he said next. “You were away in England for so very long, we all rather despaired of your ever coming back again. How long were you gone, exactly?”
“A year,” Martha replied.
“Very long indeed.”
“Yes.”
There was an awkward silence. Finally, Jane worked up her courage and said, “Mr. Great, I heard that you are studying the law at the University of Bogbury.”
“I am,” said Mr. Great, brightening at her interest. “We have broken for the summer now.”
“Of course,” said Jane, “and are you enjoying your studies?”
“Very much,” was Oliver’s reply. “I was a little concerned at first, for I thought that it all might be a bit above me, but I seem to have fallen into it easily enough, and am finding it quite enjoyable, to my surprise.”
Jane smiled and said, “Forgive me for saying so, but I do not see how anything could be above you, Mr. Great.”
Martha was quite astonished by this turn of events. How much had truly changed during her year away in England? Apparently there was something between her cousin and Mr. Great. If it was true, she was very pleased. Mr. Great was just the sort of man for Jane, and it would relieve the pressure of the unwanted match with her brother Frederick.
Martha bowed her head over her sewing, and let the two converse uninterrupted. Mr. Great only got up to leave when he remembered that he had promised to call on his sisters at half past twelve, and it was already a quarter to one o’clock in the afternoon.
Martha thought it prudent to not mention anything of this encounter to Jane, for surely it would only embarrass the girl, and there was no need for that. And so the day passed by normally, even though Martha jumped at every unfamiliar noise, half expecting every shadow to be Pierre Noir, or the Clandestine Council come for her at last.
At six o’clock they dressed for supper, and at half past six they were in the carriage, on the way to the residence of Mr. Sevenson. Martha had to admit that she was rather excited to see where he lived, and also to see if her brother and his friend would fill her in on any more of the details concerning their plot to overthrow the Clandestine Council, the Macalbys, and Finnegan O’Fear.
Mr. Sevenson’s house was by no means in the most fashionable neighbourhood in Bogbury, but it was a fine house, perfectly suitable for a single young gentleman of means. They were shown into the parlour, where Mr. Sevenson greeted them. Mr. Blackstone was already in attendance, and Martha was pleased to see him again.
They soon sat down to supper, and a good time was had by all. There was plenty of gossip and news, and the food was certainly worthy. While the conversation and the meal were both good, Martha could not help but notice that Mr. Sevenson seemed to harbour a great dislike of talking about his past or personal life. He would only say that he came from Ireland, and that he was from a very large family. He had met Frederick while at university.
When supper was over, the ladies retired to the drawing room, while the gentlemen took their brandy. Martha listened to Mrs. Haley and Jane chat about with weather, and was beginning to quite despair of hearing any more of the plan to regain the crown that night. She supposed that there was no way that Frederick and Mr. Sevenson could get her away from the other women to tell her anything. She would simply have to be patient.
The gentlemen did not linger long before they joined the ladies in the drawing room. Mr. Sevenson sat down beside her, and immediately engaged her in conversation, as he was wont to do. Though it was not the conversation she most hoped for, and though slightly annoyed, it was more enjoyable than sitting in silence.
“Do you like to read?” He wanted to know.
“Yes,” she answered.
“What else do you like to do?”
Martha tried to give him a detailed account of her hobbies and interests, and learned that he was fond of reading as well, and enjoyed dancing, debating, exercise, pointless conversations, and music. Could she play or sing? He wondered.
“No, not at all,” was her reply.”
“Good,” he said, “I am sick to death of ladies who can play and sing beautifully.”
The footman entered to announce that there was a visitor at the door, asking for Miss Bright in particular, and seeking permission to enter.
Everyone fell silent. Martha’s heart rate sped up.
“A visitor at this time of the night?” Mr. Sevenson asked suspiciously.
“Yes, sir,” said the footman.
“And what did this visitor look like, John? Describe his appearance, if you please.”
John acquiesced. “He is rather tall, sir, but as for his general appearance, I could not make it out, because he was dressed in a flowing black cloak, and his face was covered completely with a hood.”
Martha gasped.
“John, tell our visitor that we are not at leisure to receive him tonight, but that he is welcome to leave his card,” Mr. Sevenson said gravely.
When John had left the room, Martha could not help but to exclaim, “Oh, no! It is the Clandestine Council, I’m sure of it – they have come after me! But, oh, I haven’t done any unauthorised magic at all! I suppose they don’t care about that, as long as they are rid of me. What on earth am I to do?”
“Joss and I will sneak out the back door with you, Martha,” Frederick replied. “We will run back to our aunt and uncle’s house. You will pack a few important belongings, and then we will make for a secret location in the country. All right?”
Martha nodded, silently agreeing to the scheme. The rest of the family plus Mr. Blackstone filed out the front door and into their respective carriages, while Martha, Mr. Sevenson, and Frederick stole out the back door, and made their way quickly through the dark street, back to the Haley residence.
Thankfully, they arrived unscathed. Martha rushed up to her room, and collected her most important belongings at a lightning pace. She stuff them haphazardly into her suitcase, and slammed it shut, locking it. She met her brother and Mr. Sevenson outside her bedroom door, and they ran down the stairs to the foyer, where Jane was waiting for them.
“Oh, Martha!” Jane exclaimed, throwing her arms around her cousin, unable to keep back her tears. “Why is this happening? I only wish that there were some other way. Do you really have to leave?”
“Yes, I really must,” said Martha, truly sorry. “But I hope that I will be back soon enough. Don’t worry, Jane – all will turn out well.” Martha wished that she could believe her own words.
“Come, we must move quickly,” her brother beckoned, and Martha and Mr. Sevenson followed him out the door and into the waiting carriage, to be spirited off to a secret location in the countryside of Valmell.
The first two chapters can be found HERE if you missed them.
I'll post the next two chapters tomorrow, in which Mr. Blackstone and Pierre Noir come face to face, and the everyone in Britain is killed.
The morning of the ball dawned, and everyone at the Haley residence was occupied with preparing for it. Jane had to be forced to not wear a long-sleeved dress, and Martha insisted that she borrow some of her hair ribbons. Other than these slight obstacles, the day went smoothly.
By seven o’clock, everyone was in their finery, and looking smart. Mr. and Mrs. Haley, Adam, Jane, Martha, and Frederick departed in the carriage, and conversed as it wound through the hilly streets of Bogbury.
“How did Mr. Sevenson manage to get an invitation to Mr. Blackstone’s ball?” Martha wanted to know. “He is not from Valmell, is he?”
“He is Irish by birth,” Frederick replied, “but Joss and I both happen to be good friends with Mr. Blackstone.”
Martha thought this rather odd, but did not say anything else on the matter. They had arrived at the house. It was a grand one, in the very best neighbourhood in Bogbury, and was all lit up for the occasion.
They stepped out of the carriage and made their way up the steps to the front doors. They were shown through into the main hall, which was already packed with people. Mr. Blackstone, upon their arrival being announced, paid them the compliment of coming to greet them himself.
Mr. Blackstone was a man of about twenty eight or twenty nine, with golden blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a laughing countenance. Martha liked him immediately. He seemed a very pleasant sort of man. Her uncle was asking him how he was enjoying Valmell, when she caught sight of another man making his way purposefully toward them.
This man was tall, with shocking red hair, and a ruddy complexion. She watched him with suspicion. Anyone with hair as red as that had to be up to nothing good. It was only when he stopped before her brother, and they shook hands warmly, did she realise that this must be the very Mr. Sevenson that they had spoken of so much in the past few days.
“Joss, how are you?” Frederick inquired.
“Very well, thank you,” Mr. Sevenson replied. “And yourself?”
“I have never been better. And now there are some people I must have you meet. This is my aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Haley, my cousin Adam Haley, my sister Martha Bright, and my cousin Jane Haley.”
Mr. Sevenson bowed to them all, and then addressed Martha directly. “I have heard much about you, Miss Bright. I am glad to meet you at last.”
Martha felt her face colour. “I am sure I had no idea that there was anything to hear about me, Mr. Sevenson.”
He laughed. “This is a poor way to start, in disagreement. I wonder if it might be too bold of me to ask you to dance the first two with me, so that we may work this out.”
She raised her eyebrow in suspicion, but consented to his scheme for plot purposes, and he went away directly. Frederick looked pleased, and she sighed, hoping that he was not trying to play at matchmaking. She wished that if he were going to attempt matches for anyone, it would be Jane. She noticed that Mr. Blackstone was single, and wondered if he would suit Jane at all.
When the first dance began, Martha joined Mr. Sevenson on the floor with the other couples. Frederick was dancing with Jane (likely to please Mr. and Mrs. Haley), and she could see Adam conversing with his friend Oliver Great near the punch bowls.
And the dance started, Mr. Sevenson immediately began to engage Martha in conversation. She found that she fell into it easily enough. He wanted to know all about her year long visit in London, and whether or not anything interesting had happened to her there. She told him about the balls and parties she had attended, all the London gossip, the scandals that had rocked the town and now been forgotten, but did not mention the incident with Pierre Noir. Whether he was her brother’s trusted friend or not, she did not know this Mr. Sevenson, and thought that he seemed a little too interested by her stay in England.
“What about you, Mr. Sevenson?” Martha asked at last, as they did something that clearly demonstrated their aptitude for regency country dances. “My brother and yourself had quite a prolonged tour of the continent. Did anything interesting happen to you while you travelled?”
His expression clouded for a moment, but then he was smiling again. “A great many interesting things happened to us,” he replied. “So interesting, in fact, that it would take days to tell it all.”
“Perhaps you could do it in segments.”
“I fear that I would bore you to death.”
“Mr. Sevenson, really, your travelling the continent cannot possibly be any more dull than my stay in London.”
He bowed his head, conceding the point, but said no more on the subject. The dance ended. When they danced the next, they talked of more mundane subjects, such as the interior of Mr. Blackstone’s house, and the guests who had been invited.
“My brother tells me that you are both good friends with Mr. Blackstone,” Martha commented, as the second dance ended. “I wonder how that came to be.”
“We met on our tour of the continent,” Mr. Sevenson replied, “in Austria. We all got on famously. We have... similar interests.”
Martha thought this answer vague and slightly suspicious, but she could not inquire further, as the dance was over, and it would have been improper for her to linger with him any longer.
When supper came, Jane questioned Martha about her dancing partner. “He is very handsome, is he not?” she observed. “What is he like?”
Martha shrugged. “I haven’t had the time to get to understand him. He is handsome, as you say, I suppose, but his hair is shocking. He seems articulate, and fairly good natured. He is a good dancer, but so are most people. That is all I could tell you.”
Supper had only been in progress for about ten minutes, when Martha noticed dust falling into her food. She furrowed her brow, and glanced up toward the ceiling, then screamed at what she saw there. Pierre Noir was crouched on a rafter, aiming a pistol directly at her head.
She dove out of the way just in time. The bullet ricocheted off her fork and went straight through the wall. Everyone was screaming now. Pierre Noir cursed, and tried to jump from one rafter to the next, but slipped, and fell through the air, landing on the table with a loud crash.
Pierre Noir stumbled off the table and rose to his feet, regarding the gathered company with a stunned look.
“What do you mean by this, sir?” demanded a white-haired man angrily.
“LOOK OUT,” shouted Mr. Sevenson, “IT’S PIERRE NOIR!”
This threw everyone into a panic again. Pierre Noir lunged at the man, and the man was somehow unconscious within moments, though nobody had seen the frenchman make physical contact with him.
Then he turned his attention to Martha, who had been hiding behind a chair. He began to advance toward her, and she was just wondering what on earth she should do, when she noticed that her brother, Mr. Sevenson, and Mr. Blackstone, were all advancing toward Pierre Noir.
The French spy had clearly noticed this, and began to back away, toward a large picture window. His pace increased, and he was running, with the other three men giving chase. Without warning, Pierre Noir crashed through the window, out into the darkened garden surrounding the house.
There was a stunned silence.
“Supper is ruined!” someone grumbled. “I suppose this means the ball is over.”
Everyone began to file out of the hall, but Martha could not leave without her brother. He had run after Pierre Noir, and who knew what sort of danger he was in? She was the only one who had any sort of chance against Pierre Noir – she had to find them, to protect her brother, and the other two gentlemen!
Martha stole out into the garden, her way lighted by the little lanterns along the garden paths. She followed the sounds of shouting, until she came upon her brother, Mr. Sevenson, and Mr. Blackstone. They were standing next to a large picturesque fountain, but there was no sign of Pierre Noir.
“Damn it all!” Frederick cursed. “Oh, sorry, Martha. What on earth are you doing out here?”
“I came to protect you from Pierre Noir,” Martha said stupidly. “But where has he gone?”
“Martha, go back inside,” Frederick warned, but almost before he had uttered the last syllable, Pierre Noir had sprang out of the water of the fountain, and lunged toward him.
“Good God!” shouted Frederick. “This villain can breathe underwater! By God, that’s his secret!”
Pierre Noir allowed him to finish his speech, and then began to strangle him. Mr. Sevenson and Mr. Blackstone tried in vain to wrest the frenchman’s grip from Frederick’s neck, but it was all in vain. There was only one thing for it –
Martha concentrated hard, and used the full force of her mind to push Pierre Noir back. To her surprise, it worked again. He stumbled backwards, and then flew back into the air, over the buildings, until he was just a tiny dot, and the dropped down, down, down, at a very safe distance from them all.
“Martha, you saved my life!” Frederick gasped.
“It was nothing.” She blushed. Mr. Sevenson and Mr. Blackstone were looking at her with admiring expressions.
But there was no time to celebrate their victory. In a flash of blinding, fiery light, a black cloaked figure materialised in the garden, and cleared its throat.
“Ahem,” said the black cloaked figure.
“Oh, no,” said Martha.
“Oh, yes,” said the cloaked man. “I am here as a representative from the Clandestine Council. We detected unauthorised magic in use in the garden some thirty seconds ago. Would any of you care to explain?”
“This is all a misunderstanding,” Frederick assured him.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, you see, it was Pierre Noir.”
The cloaked figure did not have visible eyebrows, but Martha was sure that he was raising them under his hood.
“That is correct,” said Martha, piping up, and then instantly regretting it. “Er – you see, Pierre Noir appeared tonight at the ball – uninvited, I might add! – and he tried to kill me, and then he tried to kill my brother. He was the one who performed unauthorised magic, you see. I would never act against the wishes of the Clandestine Council.” She bowed her head in what she hoped was a respectful gesture.
“Is that so, Miss Bright?”
“Yes?” she said. She bit her lip. He did not sound convinced.
“Very well,” said the member from the Clandestine Council, sounding very disapproving. “We have no way to prove that you were the one performing illicit magic. But depend upon it, Miss Bright, that we will be keeping a very careful eye on you from now on.”
“Wonderful,” said Martha, and the cloaked figure vanished in a whirling of black clouds.
Martha and Frederick finally arrived home at midnight. Martha was exhausted, and went straight to bed. She could hear her brother explaining the events of the night to her aunt and uncle downstairs. Despite her horror at Pierre Noir’s renewed attacks, and her nervousness at being spied on by the Clandestine Council, she fell almost instantly into a deep slumber, uninterrupted until morning.
The next morning when Martha went down for breakfast, she was surprised to find her brother and Mr. Sevenson waiting for her. This could not mean good news.
“Good morning, Miss Bright,” said Mr. Sevenson politely, as she sat down at her place and took a piece of toast. “I hope I find you well this morning.”
“Very well, thank you,” said Martha. “And what brings you here at such an early hour, Mr. Sevenson?”
“Martha,” said her brother seriously, “we have many matters we need to discuss with you. The events of last night proved that you are in even more danger than we supposed.”
“Surely you are making too much of this,” she said desperately.
“Not at all, I assure you,” said her brother. “It has been obvious for years that Pierre Noir has wanted to kill you – indeed, he wants to kill us all – but now it appears that the Clandestine Council is simply waiting for the right moment to dispose of you as well.
A shiver went down Martha’s spine. “How can I possibly stand a chance against the Clandestine Council? I’m doomed!”
“It isn’t quite as bad as that,” Mr. Sevenson said, trying to reassure her, she supposed. “The time is ripe to put our plans into action, and Miss Bright, if you choose it, you can be the one who facilitates change, and not the victim.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“We are organising a revolution to bring down the Macalbys and reinstate our family on the throne of Valmell,” Frederick admitted. Martha gasped. “Not only that, but we intend to rid Valmell of the Clandestine Council as well. But this presents serious problems, of course – namely, that the Clandestine Council can perform magic and forbids it in everyone else, and that Finnegan O’Fear is working for the Clandestine Council.”
Mr. Sevenson’s face seemed to cloud at the mention of the name Finnegan O’Fear, something that did not escape Martha’s notice.
“Finnegan O’Fear,” she said quietly, “the most powerful, most evil magician in the world.”
“The very same,” said Frederick. “We believe that he will use the Clandestine Council to his own ends, and then dispose of them, setting himself up to rule Valmell, and then to rule the entire world.”
“His presumption knows no bounds,” said Mr. Sevenson heatedly.
“But what will we do?” cried Martha. “We have no chance!”
“There you are wrong,” said Mr. Sevenson, composing himself tolerably to reply. “From what your brother has told me, and what I witnessed myself last night, you have very considerable power, Miss Bright. If you could only work to harness it, we believe that our plan has a chance of succeeding.”
“And this plan is?”
“To let Finnegan O’Fear use the Clandestine Council and destroy them,” Frederick replied, “and then to have you destroy Finnegan O’Fear.”
Martha was so shocked that she dropped her teacup. It shattered on the table top. “Oh, dear,” she said faintly. “My aunt will turn me out of the house if I am continually the cause of broken dishes.”
“We won’t force you to help us with this, Martha,” said her brother sincerely, leaning forward over the table. “We know it will be very dangerous, and I’m sure we will contrive some way of regaining the crown if you opt not to involve yourself – and we will not think the worse of you for it.”
Martha exclaimed at such a suggestion. “Of course I am going to help you! What sort of person do you think I am? To forgo a chance to rid our kingdom of the Macalbys and the Clandestine Council, and to free the world from the evil machinations of Finnegan O’Fear? Of course, without hesitation, I will involve myself in whatever you have planned on that count. Besides, I am in just as much danger now from the Clandestine Council and Pierre Noir as I would be if I joined in on this scheme – and the way I see it, if I do join in on this scheme, I at least have a chance of coming out unharmed and victorious.”
The men looked very pleased at this answer, but all further conversation on the subject was put on hold by the arrival of the rest of the family for breakfast. The meal went smoothly, the conversation on trivial matters, and after it was finished, the company rose and went about their individual morning tasks. Mr. Sevenson left to return to his own residence, but not before issuing an invitation for the whole family to dine with him that night, which was gratefully accepted.
When Martha and Jane were alone in the morning sitting room, Jane at her embroidery, Martha pretending to be occupied with a book, but really thinking of what plans her brother and his friend could have, Jane said to her, “Mr. Sevenson must like you a great deal, Martha, for I can think of no other reason for a gentleman to rise so early to visit acquaintances.”
Martha, who knew the real reason for Mr. Sevenson’s early visit well enough, was able to laugh such a suggestion off. “Perhaps it is you he likes, Jane. Do not be so quick to discount yourself. How do you know that he does not come on your account?”
Now it was Jane’s turn to laugh. “It was you who he paid the most attention to last night, Martha. And he must admire you terribly for saving Frederick from Pierre Noir.”
“I am sure you are completely mistaken,” Martha said, unconcerned. “If he were to fix on either of us, it would certainly be you, Jane, for you are much prettier than I am.”
Their pointless tête-à-tête was interrupted by the arrival of Oliver Great. He was shown into the room, and seemed immediately nervous upon discovering them.
“Oh – excuse me – I had thought that Adam was here, and I had stopped by to see him.”
“My brother is from home for the whole day today,” Jane answered, “but won’t you sit down? May I offer you some refreshment?”
Oliver took a seat across from them and said, “No, I thank you. Forgive me, I have been terribly rude – how do you do, Miss Haley? Miss Bright?”
They both answered that they were perfectly well, and upon being asked, he replied that he had never felt better.
“It is very good to see you again, Miss Bright,” he said next. “You were away in England for so very long, we all rather despaired of your ever coming back again. How long were you gone, exactly?”
“A year,” Martha replied.
“Very long indeed.”
“Yes.”
There was an awkward silence. Finally, Jane worked up her courage and said, “Mr. Great, I heard that you are studying the law at the University of Bogbury.”
“I am,” said Mr. Great, brightening at her interest. “We have broken for the summer now.”
“Of course,” said Jane, “and are you enjoying your studies?”
“Very much,” was Oliver’s reply. “I was a little concerned at first, for I thought that it all might be a bit above me, but I seem to have fallen into it easily enough, and am finding it quite enjoyable, to my surprise.”
Jane smiled and said, “Forgive me for saying so, but I do not see how anything could be above you, Mr. Great.”
Martha was quite astonished by this turn of events. How much had truly changed during her year away in England? Apparently there was something between her cousin and Mr. Great. If it was true, she was very pleased. Mr. Great was just the sort of man for Jane, and it would relieve the pressure of the unwanted match with her brother Frederick.
Martha bowed her head over her sewing, and let the two converse uninterrupted. Mr. Great only got up to leave when he remembered that he had promised to call on his sisters at half past twelve, and it was already a quarter to one o’clock in the afternoon.
Martha thought it prudent to not mention anything of this encounter to Jane, for surely it would only embarrass the girl, and there was no need for that. And so the day passed by normally, even though Martha jumped at every unfamiliar noise, half expecting every shadow to be Pierre Noir, or the Clandestine Council come for her at last.
At six o’clock they dressed for supper, and at half past six they were in the carriage, on the way to the residence of Mr. Sevenson. Martha had to admit that she was rather excited to see where he lived, and also to see if her brother and his friend would fill her in on any more of the details concerning their plot to overthrow the Clandestine Council, the Macalbys, and Finnegan O’Fear.
Mr. Sevenson’s house was by no means in the most fashionable neighbourhood in Bogbury, but it was a fine house, perfectly suitable for a single young gentleman of means. They were shown into the parlour, where Mr. Sevenson greeted them. Mr. Blackstone was already in attendance, and Martha was pleased to see him again.
They soon sat down to supper, and a good time was had by all. There was plenty of gossip and news, and the food was certainly worthy. While the conversation and the meal were both good, Martha could not help but notice that Mr. Sevenson seemed to harbour a great dislike of talking about his past or personal life. He would only say that he came from Ireland, and that he was from a very large family. He had met Frederick while at university.
When supper was over, the ladies retired to the drawing room, while the gentlemen took their brandy. Martha listened to Mrs. Haley and Jane chat about with weather, and was beginning to quite despair of hearing any more of the plan to regain the crown that night. She supposed that there was no way that Frederick and Mr. Sevenson could get her away from the other women to tell her anything. She would simply have to be patient.
The gentlemen did not linger long before they joined the ladies in the drawing room. Mr. Sevenson sat down beside her, and immediately engaged her in conversation, as he was wont to do. Though it was not the conversation she most hoped for, and though slightly annoyed, it was more enjoyable than sitting in silence.
“Do you like to read?” He wanted to know.
“Yes,” she answered.
“What else do you like to do?”
Martha tried to give him a detailed account of her hobbies and interests, and learned that he was fond of reading as well, and enjoyed dancing, debating, exercise, pointless conversations, and music. Could she play or sing? He wondered.
“No, not at all,” was her reply.”
“Good,” he said, “I am sick to death of ladies who can play and sing beautifully.”
The footman entered to announce that there was a visitor at the door, asking for Miss Bright in particular, and seeking permission to enter.
Everyone fell silent. Martha’s heart rate sped up.
“A visitor at this time of the night?” Mr. Sevenson asked suspiciously.
“Yes, sir,” said the footman.
“And what did this visitor look like, John? Describe his appearance, if you please.”
John acquiesced. “He is rather tall, sir, but as for his general appearance, I could not make it out, because he was dressed in a flowing black cloak, and his face was covered completely with a hood.”
Martha gasped.
“John, tell our visitor that we are not at leisure to receive him tonight, but that he is welcome to leave his card,” Mr. Sevenson said gravely.
When John had left the room, Martha could not help but to exclaim, “Oh, no! It is the Clandestine Council, I’m sure of it – they have come after me! But, oh, I haven’t done any unauthorised magic at all! I suppose they don’t care about that, as long as they are rid of me. What on earth am I to do?”
“Joss and I will sneak out the back door with you, Martha,” Frederick replied. “We will run back to our aunt and uncle’s house. You will pack a few important belongings, and then we will make for a secret location in the country. All right?”
Martha nodded, silently agreeing to the scheme. The rest of the family plus Mr. Blackstone filed out the front door and into their respective carriages, while Martha, Mr. Sevenson, and Frederick stole out the back door, and made their way quickly through the dark street, back to the Haley residence.
Thankfully, they arrived unscathed. Martha rushed up to her room, and collected her most important belongings at a lightning pace. She stuff them haphazardly into her suitcase, and slammed it shut, locking it. She met her brother and Mr. Sevenson outside her bedroom door, and they ran down the stairs to the foyer, where Jane was waiting for them.
“Oh, Martha!” Jane exclaimed, throwing her arms around her cousin, unable to keep back her tears. “Why is this happening? I only wish that there were some other way. Do you really have to leave?”
“Yes, I really must,” said Martha, truly sorry. “But I hope that I will be back soon enough. Don’t worry, Jane – all will turn out well.” Martha wished that she could believe her own words.
“Come, we must move quickly,” her brother beckoned, and Martha and Mr. Sevenson followed him out the door and into the waiting carriage, to be spirited off to a secret location in the countryside of Valmell.
I'll post the next two chapters tomorrow, in which Mr. Blackstone and Pierre Noir come face to face, and the everyone in Britain is killed.
