Elemental Masters - Miss Amelia's List E-Book

Mercedes Lackey

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Elemental Masters
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 577

Beschreibung

The seventeenth novel in the magical alternate history Elemental Masters series heads to Regency England to navigate property acquisition, marriage proposals, and other ancient horrors. The year is 1815, and an American, Miss Amelia Stonehold, has arrived in the Devon town of Axminster, accompanied by her "cousin" Serena Meleva. She's brought with her a list to tick off: find a property, investigate the neighbors, bargain for and purchase the property, staff the property and… possibly… find a husband. But Amelia soon finds herself contending with some decidedly off-list trouble, including the Honorable Captain Harold Roughtower, whose eyes are fixed on her fortune. Little does Amelia know that his plans for her wealth extend far beyond refurbishing his own crumbing estate—they include the hidden Roman temple of Glykon, where something very old, very angry, and very dangerous still lurks. But Roughtower isn't prepared to reckon with the fact that neither Amelia nor Serena are pushovers. And he certainly isn't ready for the revelation that he has an Earth Master and a Fire Mage on his hands—or that one of them is a shapeshifter.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

Epilogue

MISS AMELIA’S LIST

The

ELEMENTALMASTERS

Also by Mercedes Lackeyand available from Titan Books

FAMILY SPIES

The Hills Have SpiesEye SpySpy, Spy Again

THE HERALD SPY

Closer to HomeCloser to the HeartCloser to the Chest

THE COLLEGIUM CHRONICLES

FoundationIntriguesChanges

RedoubtBastion

VALDEMAR OMNIBUSES

The Heralds of ValdemarThe Mage WindsThe Mage StormsThe Mage Wars

The Last Herald MageVows & HonorExiles of Valdemar

THE ELEMENTAL MASTERS

The Serpent’s ShadowThe Gates of SleepPhoenix and AshesThe Wizard of LondonReserved for the CatUnnatural IssueHome from the SeaSteadfast

Blood RedFrom a High TowerA Study in SableA Scandal in BatterseaThe Bartered BridesThe Case of the Spellbound ChildJoleneThe Silver Bullets of Annie Oakley

THE FOUNDING OF VALDEMAR

BeyondInto the WestValdemar

KELVREN’S SAGA

Gryphon in LightGryphon’s Valor

LEAVE US A REVIEW

We hope you enjoy this book – if you did we would really appreciate it if you can write a short review. Your ratings really make a difference for the authors, helping the books you love reach more people.

You can rate this book, or leave a short review here:

Amazon.co.uk,

Waterstones,

or your preferred retailer.

Miss Amelia’s List

Print edition ISBN: 9781789093797

E-book edition ISBN: 9781789093803

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark Street, London SE1 0UP

www.titanbooks.com

First edition: December 2024

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.

Mercedes Lackey asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Copyright © 2024 by Mercedes R. Lackey. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

Typeset in Sabon LT 10/12.5pt.

Dedicated to the memory of my beloved father,Edward Ritche, who I miss with all my heart.

1

Amelia Stonecroft seized the shoulder of her cousin Serena Meleva’s woolen cloak forcibly, just before her cousin made a spectacle of herself, and hissed at her. Hissing was the best way to get Serena’s attention. “Do you want to scandalize everyone on the dock?” she said just loud enough for her cousin to hear—and Serena had very, very good ears. “A lady does not fling herself down a gangplank unassisted and throw herself at a gentleman, even if that gentleman is her cousin!” Her insides tightened; she did not want to draw unwanted attention.

Gulls flew overhead, crying. Cold wind cut through her cloak. Her nose wrinkled at odors very alien to someone who had spent all her life on a farm in North Carolina; tar, salt-air, rotting fish, and mud.

Serena pouted a little, and contented herself with waving at James Stonecroft from the rail of the ship they were on—supposedly something called a “Baltimore clipper,” a sort of ship that was known for making fast passage across the Atlantic. She certainly carried enough sail to do so, though “fast” was relative. James waved back, as the cold, damp wind sent more seagulls skating across the sky, casting back and forth above the docks, sounding as if they were crying out their desire for tea. Serena relaxed a little when James waved back, and stopped looking as if she was about to try to win a footrace. “I hate this ship, I hate the sea, and I want to get offand—” She subsided. “We mustn’t scandalize the English, I suppose. They already think we are barbarians.”

“Or worse,” Amelia replied darkly, and let go of Serena’s indigo cloak, which was a match for her own. “It was only a year ago they tried to burn Washington to the ground, and very nearly succeeded! Just because we signed a treaty with them, it doesn’t follow that there are no bad feelings!”

And if I weren’t an Elemental Master, I would still be very angry with them. But no magician can afford to hold a grudge. Grudges tend to take on a life of their own when one can wield magic.

Then again, the burning of Washington was very far away for most of the English, who likely only thought of America as a vague place in the west and were uninterested in it. Privately, she was quite sure that the longshoremen offloading this ship, and most of the people who had come to meet it, didn’t give a toss about wars and city-burnings far away, but if this would rein in Serena’s impulses, then she’d play that song and pretend to believe it.

Serena sighed, her tawny hair escaping a little to mingle with the lace and flounces inside her cherry-trimmed bonnet, with a few curls forming over her forehead. “I should think they should be more concerned with the French. I still don’t understand why Uncle Charles wants to expand the business here if they hate us Americans so.”

“Because business has very little to do with politics, and it will be good business to return some of our family interests here,” Amelia replied, with an authority she didn’t really feel. “Besides, our main interactions will be with other Elemental mages, and the White Lodges have almost nothing to do with politics.” That last probably wasn’t entirely true, but it was near enough. Even during the American Revolution, the Stonecrofts and their kin and kind had kept their business and magical interests going overseas, in England in particular. For that matter, even through the French Revolution and the wars with Napoleon that followed, they were still selling to France, through various secondary parties on the continent.

Fortunately, indigo dye was not considered to be a military resource. The British soldiers were not called “Bluecoats,” after all, and those American forces that wore blue uniform coats were already sufficiently supplied with indigo.

More gulls called overhead, their plaintive cries exactly the same as the ones that had bid their ship farewell in Wilmington. Amelia steeled herself against another wave of anxiety. She was so used to anxiety that she rarely took note of it—and no one, even in her family, even realized how anxiety always lay beneath her carefully cultivated veneer of calm and competence. She often thought of herself as being not unlike a swan—an image of serenity above, frantic paddling beneath the surface. But right now that “paddling” felt particularly frantic. Did their hosts really want them here? Would they receive a civil but cold “welcome”? Were James’s plans far too ambitious? What if everything fell apart and she and Serena would be forced to return home, the expenses of their travel all for nothing? What if Napoleon escaped and resumed his war with the British? What if, despite all of her father’s assurances, the British Elemental mages regarded them with contempt?

The London docks, where their ship had just berthed, churned with activity, which only heightened her anxiety, but she reminded herself sternly that she had a job to do—an entire list of jobs to do—and she should not allow her own weakness to get in the way of doing them. No time for vapors, she told herself, a phrase that over the course of her adult life had become a litany.

Serena looked around with unalloyed interest, and Amelia envied her the ability to look at everything as a new adventure and not a new nest of hazardous obstacles to be navigated. Serena was always positive and astonishingly cheerful, and the only time Amelia ever found that irritating was when Serena’s impulses ran away with her, which didn’t happen very often anymore now that she was old enough to take other people’s opinions into consideration.

The ship was tied up, her sails furled, but until she was securely fastened to the pier, the captain did not permit the gangplank to be deployed. And even then, when he did, he waved to his two passengers that they must wait until the cargo that had been stowed on the open deck had been moved. This ship was a cargo ship and rarely carried passengers, a fact they had been made aware of when Amelia’s father booked passage. But James had been very specific in his letter that he wanted them to come over on this ship and this ship only, one which the family often used to bring their dyes to England. Once Amelia and Serena had met the captain, the reason became obvious. He was an Elemental magician, of Water, of course. Such a man would be able to bring every voyage across the Atlantic home successfully, even in February and March, so there was no doubt why the family shipped with him. His command of the Elementals of Water allowed him to evade pirates, privateers, blockades, and storms with ease. In fact, James himself had made this voyage with this captain two years ago; Captain Smith had welcomed them as valued passengers rather than an inconvenience, and had joked that it was too bad they were not Air Masters as James had been, to bring the ship into port faster. But Serena’s Fire magic had been very useful in the galley, as well as supplying hot ballast stones to put into beds and hammocks every night. Sadly, Amelia’s Earth Mastery had been absolutely useless.

Once all the cargo had been cleared from the decks, the captain waved them off, and they hurried down the gangplank to where James was waiting, wearing a smart hat and enveloped in a cloak of the same blue as theirs, but with at least five shoulder-capes. Perhaps six. Possibly seven. That seemsexcessive . . . Amelia thought. Surely one would do.

She stumbled a bit; it was going to take some time to get used to walking on something that was not moving again. Serena managed to get down the gangplank decorously enough, but she then completely ignored Amelia’s instructions once on the dock and flung herself into James’s arms. He caught her up and spun her around before setting her down on the dock, while Amelia sighed and approached at an unsteady walk. “How now, my wenches?” he said as Amelia reached his side with more composure. “And how was the trip?”

“Dull, uncomfortable, and far too long,” Amelia said, trying not to sound disagreeable. “We weren’t prepared for the tedium, to be honest; we had but one book between us and no fancywork, the captain is not a reader and had nothing for us, the cabin was the size of a cupboard, and we were unable to make a change of clothing the entire trip.”

“But we did while away some of the time by mending the sailors’ things,” Serena offered. “I think they were surprised we wanted to, and even more surprised that our work stood their scrutiny!”

“Well,” James said, “your timing was good. There was some nasty work about the Corn Laws—riots right here in London, actually—but you’ve missed all that. Things have settled, and we’re glad to see you.”

People swirled around them like the gulls swirled above; mostly longshoremen carrying enormous bales and boxes on their shoulders, but a few with empty hands who seemed to have other business, or who were proceeding to other ships. The dull gray sky and the dull-colored clothing of the sailors and workers was a stark contrast to the overall cheerfulness of the folks thronging about them. I suppose they are just as happy to be off that ship and out of quarters that were even more unpleasant than ours, Amelia thought. And, of course, looking forward to being paid and spending that pay ashore!

“Then the two of you pop into the carriage while I wait for the consignment, and I shall whisk you away to our representative’s home where a hot bath awaits,” James replied agreeably. He was very much a Stonecroft: like Amelia, brown of hair and eye, with a pleasant countenance, and with a sturdy, reliable quality about him that Amelia felt must make him very desirable in female eyes. He gave off an aura of quiet strength and competence that she felt would make a lady certain that he would be a good protector. This, despite his Element, which was Air, which in Amelia’s experience tended to make its possessors more introspective and dreamy (not to say flighty) than clever and practical. It was very like him to have thought of arranging for a bath directly on their arrival, and she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek as a thank-you.

Serena clapped her hands and would have run for the carriage, had Amelia not firmly taken her arm, and required her to proceed at a walk. I am so jealous that she is so sure-footed immediately. I feel like I did when I first got on the ship and tried to move.

It was an unexpectedly large carriage of pleasant reddish-brown, pulled by four chestnut horses—perhaps the conveyance had been chosen because James had been expecting to transport a number of trunks and boxes as well as the precious chests of indigo and cochineal powder. The cochineal was a relatively new product to come from the Stonecroft farms, but with so many Earth Masters and magicians among the inhabitants of the plantation, it had proven to be trivial to get the prickly pear cacti that the cochineal insects fed upon to thrive in North Carolina, and the insects themselves responded well to a little magical prodding. Initially, the Stonecroft business had sold all their product within the United States and Canada, but production had increased to the point where it was profitable to export it further afield and compete with Mexico and South America now. Hmm. Some revenge, I suspect, if the redcoats end up paying us for the dye for their uniforms.

The young ladies were handed into the carriage by the footman, and settled themselves on the beautifully upholstered forward-facing seats. In fact, the entire interior was upholstered in a dark green plush, and Amelia was very impressed. And, after the discomfort of the journey, very relieved. There were beaver lap-robes waiting, as well as a cast-iron foot-warmer, and she tucked a robe around herself without hesitation and put both feet near the heat. She felt her entire body relax into the softness and warmth, and had to fight off the sudden urge to nap. The last few miles of the journey had tested even her patience—first having to wait for the pilot boat carrying the special London pilot required to get them up the river, then the river journey itself, then finally, slowly, warping into the docks.

A faint, but much more pleasant scent countering the dock miasma lingered inside the coach; lavender, mint, and rosemary, from metal potpourri balls tucked into the four corners of the roof.

They waited patiently while their trunks and boxes were unloaded from the ship and stowed on the roof of the carriage above them, then waited a while longer as brother James got the very precious containers of indigo and cochineal and secured them to the coach as well. This probably occupied less than a quarter-hour, certainly not more than a half, but to Amelia, and probably to her more fidgety cousin, it felt like forever. But at last James joined them in the coach, taking the rearward-facing seat.

With a lurch, the coach moved off, wheels rumbling over the planks of the dock, then rattling over the cobblestones, and Serena burst into speech before James could say a single word. “Cousin! We have missed you very, very much! You did not tell us nearly enough in your letters! Have you got a house of your own yet? Is it in a fashionable district? What is the city like? Are you courting anyone? Will we be presented at court? Will you hold a ball for us? Is there . . .” here she paused significantly, and Amelia immediately knew what was coming, “. . . room for me to run?”

James laughed at her and patted her knee. “I have not yet got a house of my own, but our good representative Mr. Angleford, whose work I am learning and whose home I am staying in, has a domicile ample for our needs for the moment. I am looking out for a townhouse for myself with his help, but I have not yet found something to suit me. I may well end up renting or buying Mr. Angleford’s home after all, if I have not found something to suit when I fully assume the position of company representative and he moves. He has talked of moving to Bath permanently, as most of his daughters settled there, and I believe that now that you are here, he and his wife Julia have determined on this plan.”

Amelia nodded; Angleford had been a fine representative, a shrewd man of business, an Elemental mage of Fire, and a clever man at getting dyes into the country through Holland or some other neutral country during the hostilities between the new United States and England, but he was growing old, and wanted to retire. As he had no sons to train to take his place, and Amelia’s father was not minded to have a stranger, even another Elemental mage, in that position, James had been appointed to take it. James was well versed and practiced in the handling of the business on the export and sales side of the ocean, and all parties reckoned it would take him little time to master the intricacies of import and sales in England. And since there was the matter of a new venture entirely, one which Angleford had not felt up to pioneering, James was the best possible replacement.

But that was business, and Serena’s questions were not about business. “The house is situated in Gracechurch Street,” he continued. “Which is ‘fashionable’ enough for those of us in trade. You will not find yourself lacking in amusements, as the Anglefords are popular guests and hosts, and intend to exert themselves on your behalf while you are here. Mrs. Angleford intends to sponsor you to regular Assemblies. I have told them that you two are out; you are both old enough and might as well be called so, even though we don’t have that custom at home. I am not officially courting anyone, but . . . there are prospects. I am holding off on serious wife-hunting until I officially take over the business, which will make me a much more appealing prospect to the families in question.”

“That’s wise,” Amelia agreed, mentally crossing one item off her list—when she got into her belongings, she’d be crossing it off a physical list as well. “Anxious mamas will be better pleased when they know you offer a girl a good situation and a steady income.”

And indeed, that was another reason for James to be here. Most Elemental mages married other mages, either by choice or arrangement. It was otherwise too difficult a life; one either wasted time in hiding things from a normal spouse, or in explaining things to a normal spouse and hoping they could keep their silence about their espoused’s extracurricular activities. But the United States was large, and the population thin, and the opportunities for finding mates one was not already related to hard to come by. By reestablishing the Stonecroft household in England, the Stonecrofts and their kin and allies would find far better matrimonial hunting than at home.

“As for being presented at court, no, you will not be,” James continued, and smiled sympathetically at Serena’s falling face. “You will not be, because you are already out, and because we are merely tradesfolk without noble connections or a touch of noble blood. Don’t forget that; we ‘smell of the shop’ now because we are not landed and gentry, we are not very rich, and we have no connection whatsoever to the aristocracy. No one is presented at the queen’s drawing room except those with noble blood or those who have married into the aristocracy. Nor would you want to find yourself presented—nor would any of us wish to bear the cost of such a thing.” He leaned over to emphasize his points. “Do you remember those old gowns you used to laugh about, with the huge hoops and panniers and sky-high wigs? The ones you found in the attic as a child? That is what you are expected to wear to such a presentation, except with the high waist of modern gowns, which combination, in my opinion, makes a girl look like a fancy teapot—and which are incredibly difficult to move in. There are, I am told, several layers of petticoats as well as the hoops and panniers, and very old-fashioned tight-lacing. It’s not something you can wear ever again because it must be made of materials that are not fashionable like heavy brocade, and it must be made of the finest of those materials, with a great deal of ruffles and lace, and worn with far more real jewels than both of you put together have at the moment. The expense of such a rig-out is appalling. Three hundred pounds is not considered excessive.”

Serena bit her lip, and nodded her complete agreement, as Amelia had known she would. For all that Serena seemed flighty, she was the first to pinch a penny until it screamed for mercy—and Amelia knew that to be imprisoned in such a garment would be her idea of hell.

“And all that to wait for hours in your carriage, then finally be shown into the drawing room, have a curtsy to the queen as you are introduced, and then join the fearful crush with little hope of refreshment and none whatsoever of sitting down. All this so that you can announce to the world that you are out and can now attend large routs, dances at Almack’s Assembly Room, be invited to the prince’s parties, and consort with members of the aristocracy, who will look down their noses at you if they don’t give you the cut direct because you ‘smell of the shop.’” He shook his head. “Pure folly, when with the Anglefords’ help you shall have balls and parties enough to attend merely by my saying ‘Oh yes, my sister and cousin are both out, and have been for six months.’” Now he smiled gently on Serena. “As for ‘room to run,’ the Anglefords know what you are and what you need and have arranged for that. You may go out this very night if you feel rested enough.”

At that, Serena sighed with relief. “You are the best of guardians,” she said with contentment.

“I know,” James smirked, and leaned back into the seat cushions. “And if you are very good and very lucky, some of the ton who are also Masters and mages may come to a ball or two within our very special orbit, and you will rub elbows with the fashionable and elite after all. And once they know your magical abilities, they certainly will not look down their noses at you, although you must not presume to approach them in public. Power is more important among our circle than rank or wealth, and they well know that one day their very lives may be in the hands of a mere commoner, so it behooves them to be as democratic as a colonial. At least in private.”

But Serena had been diverted from this little lecture by the scene outside. “Oh, look!” Serena cried, sighting an imposing building out the carriage window. “What is that?”

After that, James found himself identifying anything that caught Serena’s gaze. These included not just buildings, but people both afoot and on horseback or driving. In the case of the latter, James was generally unable to identify them by name, but certainly could identify them by type. For instance, a particularly smart-looking woman driving herself in a single-horse, bright yellow sporting carriage of a sort that neither of the girls had ever seen before was met with a raised eyebrow. “Ladies of that sort are not to be noticed by you,” he said, a touch sternly. “They are referred to as ‘Cyprians.’”

“Oh,” said Serena in wonder. “They are fast, then?”

“Rather more than fast,” said James.

“Oh!” Serena laughed. “Well, then, we know about them, but are not supposed to, and of course, must pretend they are invisible.”

“Precisely.”

“What is she driving, though? Do respectable people drive such things? It looks dangerous—and fun!” Serena continued.

“Respectable people are known to drive them, even women, though generally not alone. I can speak to the danger, and I assume that it must be pleasurable to be able to drive such a thing if you find danger pleasurable. But I don’t personally know what it is like to drive one, as that sort of rig-out is beyond my skill,” James said, patiently. “It is called a high-perch phaeton, and it takes a real Nonesuch to be able to handle such a thing. If you see a man driving one, he is either foolishly reckless, or a capital whip. If you see a woman with a groom beside her driving one, she is exceptional, and almost certainly a capital whip. If you see a woman driving one alone, she is still certainly a capital whip, but her morals are likely dubious.”

Things certainly were more complicated here.

It seemed to Amelia that the carriages came in a bewildering variety, but were mostly divided between utilitarian, such as theirs, and sporting, and it was at least easy enough to judge between the category of carriage, as the sporting ones were not in the least practical.

Since Amelia and Serena had lived almost exclusively on what James now referred to as “the family estate” instead of a “plantation,” and had only been to a city when they had passed through the port, virtually everything and everyone were novelties to both of them. Amelia had been about to make a caustic remark about James’s coat, but kept her words behind her teeth when she saw that the number of shoulder capes he boasted was actually conservative compared to some of the men she saw driving equipages she could not identify, but which were clearly both sporting and expensive.

It appears, she thought worriedly, that our notions of fashion are outdated. Men’s fashion, at any rate. She reflected, though without much hope, that the ladies’ magazines she and the rest of the women of the Stonecroft estate had perused eagerly as soon as they arrived off the boats from London and made their way to the interior probably were recent enough that she and Serena would not be utterly disgraced in public. Certainly those magazines rarely featured men at all . . .

“I am sure that both of you know not to ask such questions in public,” James said, finally, with just a touch of weariness.

“Of course!” Serena replied indignantly. “Of all things to say! To open ourselves to ridicule? We are not simpletons! Nor shall we gawp about us at everything that is unfamiliar! It is merely that we are safe in the coach, away from possible public censure, and we know you will tell us whatever we want to know!”

Satisfied, James went back to answering his cousin’s questions with a better will.

Amelia remained quiet and took mental notes; Serena was asking all the questions she would have liked to, but felt uncomfortable with doing so. But then, by nature it was hard for her to put herself forward.

Serena was probably not technically her cousin, but almost everyone on the Stonecroft estate was at least minimally related to one another one way or another, so it was close enough to truth. She and Serena had been born within days of each other, had been raised together, thought of each other as sisters, and always referred to each other as “cousin” and their respective parents as “aunt and uncle.”

The carriage deposited them in front of a handsome townhouse a bit older than some of the groups of obviously new terraced houses they had passed. Nothing could have been more unlike the home they had left, the sprawling, two-story, wooden edifice that had been added to again and again over the years to accommodate a larger and larger household, and set among spacious lawns and gardens. This was a handsome four-story construction of red brick with white plaster pillars, squeezed on both sides by its neighbors, with not so much as a scrap of greenery in front. A glance at Serena showed Amelia that her cousin was gazing upward at the rooftops. Amelia knew very well why, and it had nothing to do with guessing what room was to be theirs.

A middle-aged footman in a black tailed coat, stockings and shoes rather than boots like James, and yellow knee breeches, with his hair in a queue, handed them down from the carriage. Amelia glanced back anxiously at their trunks, but James hurried them up a set of white stairs edged with black iron railings and inside before she could ask how they would be conveyed within. Her anxieties arose again. What if Mr. Angleford was less than pleased about his visitors? True, he had supposedly volunteered to host them, but what if he had done so merely to be polite and now was regretting the invitation? It was more than enough that he was hosting James, after all, and James had a good reason to be his guest, as he was to take over the business. So far as Mr. Angleford knew, they were just here husband-hunting! That wasn’t their main reason for being here, at least, not Amelia’s, but Angleford didn’t know that. What if he was scandalized if he learned what her real task was to be?

But once inside the white front door, all those anxieties vanished, at least briefly, as a distinguished, slightly stooped, gray-haired man in an immaculate dark-green coat and old-fashioned brown knee breeches, stockings, and shoes with silver buckles seized both her hands as if she were his daughter even before James could make a proper introduction. “My word! So this is Miss Amelia! You are the very image of your beautiful mother, and I should know you for a Stonecroft anywhere! Oh! How I remember how lovely Vivian Stonecroft was as a young bride, and how welcoming she was to me on my first visit to your country! You are very welcome here my dear, very welcome!”

And then he literally passed her to a plump little woman in a modish green-striped gown, beaming under her lace cap, who took her hands from his with every evidence of pleasure. “Oh! My dear! It is so good to finally have you all here!” she exclaimed. “I cannot tell you how excited I am to have young ladies in the house again! I have sorely missed all the routs, the dinners, the visits to theaters and Vauxhall, and lovely evenings in the parlor we used to have before my girls got swept up and carried off to Bath! We shall have such lovely times!”

By this time Serena had been greeted by Mr. Angleford with the same unfeigned enthusiasm, which was a great relief to Amelia, since James had said the couple were aware of her nature. The gentleman then turned his attention to James, while his wife gathered up her two female visitors and passed them into the hands of the housekeeper.

“Mrs. Jennings will see you up to your rooms, my dears. There are hot baths waiting for you; I am sure you will be glad to see them after your journey. The bell will ring for dinner, and my maid will help you dress and show you down.” She dimpled. “Don’t worry, we keep ‘country’ hours, not fashionable ones. You will not be forced to starve until seven!” Before Amelia could utter even a single word of thanks, the housekeeper bustled them away up the stairs. Two sets of stairs brought them to the third floor, and a pair of adjoining bedrooms at the rear of the house. And for a moment, with delicious aromas of cooking coming up from below, Amelia regretted taking time for a bath. But not for long.

The room Amelia was ushered into was small, as was to be expected in a city as crowded as London, but boasted a comfortable-looking bed with a brown damask canopy and curtains, a chair with an upholstered seat, a wardrobe, a set of drawers, a dressing table, a stand with a washbasin, and its own fireplace with an inset stove. She recognized a closestool behind a screen as well, which was a tremendous relief, as the existence of this object meant she would not have to take nighttime trips down dark stairs and out through the kitchen to a privy in the yard. And, as promised, in front of the fireplace and behind another screen was a deep copper tub filled with water from which the lavender-scented steam was still rising.

Amelia nearly flung all her clothing off and left it on the floor in her eagerness to get into that inviting tub, but she remembered her manners and left the clothing on the chair instead. During the voyage, their only recourse to cleanliness had been a basin barely the size of a soup bowl, a pitcher of unheated salt water, a scrap of soap, and a facecloth, and all that using these things had accomplished was to make her feel sticky. For a moment she felt all her cares melt away as the hot water enveloped her up to her ears, and she blessed the maids who had undergone a labor of Hercules to carry all that hot water in cans up from the kitchen. Not once, but twice! For Serena must have the same sort of bath waiting.

Of course, in the privacy of a bedroom, Serena had quite another way to cleanse herself—but presumably their hosts had not thought of that. Or maybe they did, but assumed she would appreciate a bath as much as I.

Now soaking her cares away, however briefly, she took greater note of her surroundings. The walls were a pleasant rose color, the woodwork beautifully painted in the same color. The fireplace before which she bathed had a carved white stone mantelpiece, sides, and hearth, a lovely modern stove that did far more good at heating the room than an open fireplace would. It was crowned with a picture of a fashionable young lady who might be one of the Angleford daughters above the mantelpiece. There was a fine carpet on the floor, and although there was a cloth under her bath, she made a mental note to be sure not to drip on the carpet. From what she recalled, the furnishings were a little old-fashioned, but well-made and well-maintained, and if the upholstery did not quite match the screens or the bed, well, it was close enough to maintain harmony.

From behind the screen she heard some thumping and bumping and many footsteps, which hopefully signaled the arrival of her trunks. She truly did not want to get into clothing she had lived and slept in for the past four weeks. The blue-gray merino round gown she had cast off so precipitously fortunately did not show the abuse she had put it through, but the dirt was still there, and she knew it. It would need a thorough treatment with fuller’s earth, brushing, and airing before it was fit to put on again. At least it was not sweaty as well. It had been too cold on the voyage to sweat.

I’d have them all burned if it wouldn’t be such a waste of good garments. But part of me hopes that the stockings, stays, drawers, and chemise are too far gone to save.

There was more activity, and the sounds of at least two people putting things in the wardrobe and set of drawers. She ignored those sounds, used a touch of magic to heat the water again, and set to actually cleaning herself from crown of head to soles of feet. When she finally emerged from the bath, wrapped in the sheet conveniently draped over the screen and fluffing out her damp curls with one hand, it was to find that her trunks had been opened, a suitable gown chosen and the wrinkles shaken out of it, and laid on the bed along with fresh undergarments and stockings. The offending and offensive dirty things had been taken away. She felt sorry for the maids who would have to clean them.

She did not bother to wait for the arrival of Julia Angleford’s maid to dress; after all, she had been dressing herself all her life.

The gown waiting for her was not one she would have chosen for herself to “dress for dinner,” as she had been told she would have to do before she even left home. It was a fine merino twill dyed with indigo (the sort of cloth called “superfine” and often used for men’s coats) and severely styled in the manner of a Hussar’s uniform. More like the riding habits that she had seen in the magazines than a dinner gown, but she was not going to complain. It was probably the one gown fit for dinner that she owned that could be shaken out with no wrinkles, so was the most presentable at short notice. And it was cold enough here in England in early March that she welcomed wool over her muslin chemise. She certainly didn’t want the poor maid to add to her work by pressing a gown while she bathed, much less have to go to the effort of properly pressing out her “company” velvet dinner gown on a needle board. But she feared that her clothing was going to mark her as hopelessly rustic. The Stonecroft household subscribed to several magazines and newspapers from London, and of course the latest fashions were always of great interest to many on the estate, but the gowns described always seemed to be of fine muslin, silk, or satin, not homely fabrics like wool. Except for riding habits. Those, it appeared, were almost universally made of wool.

I hope this doesn’t look like a riding habit. That would be a great faux pas, even though this was one of her favorite gowns, simple, trimmed only with silk braid, and perfectly suitable for fall and winter dinner back home. We have not yet seen all of ladies’ fashion. Surely merino wool and woolen plush would be most welcome in this cold, damp place, even for dinner!

She dressed quickly, from the skin out, and reveled in the feeling of clean clothing against her skin again. Perhaps ships that primarily carried passengers had better facilities for them than the cargo ship she and Serena had traveled on; she didn’t know. All she knew was that having to share a tiny cabin barely big enough for the two of them to stand in, with no access to their trunks, and spending the entire voyage without even a change of underthings made her resolve never to go home again if that was what was entailed. I swear if we were rich I really would burn the clothing we traveled in. Serena had been far more fortunate than she, but even Serena hadn’t had a change of clothing. And though Serena had been able to clean herself more thoroughly than Amelia had, she had suffered the worst from confinement.

Amelia had barely gotten her shoes on and threaded a matching ribbon through her hair to confine it when Serena knocked on the door and came in before she could be invited. “Come see my room!” she gushed. “The Anglefords are lovely!”

Before Amelia could reply, Serena had taken her by the hand and drawn her out into the hallway and back into Serena’s room. It looked very much as Amelia’s room did, with the same accoutrements and colors, but that was not what Serena wanted to show her. The object of Serena’s joy lay in the window, which opened easily and, as Amelia soon realized, gave access to a short roof, perhaps over a porch. “Look!” Serena said with glee. “From there I can jump to the main roof, and these houses are so close together, I can have a nice run from rooftop to rooftop without disturbing or alarming anyone!”

“So you can,” Amelia agreed, trying not to shiver as that chill dampness penetrated the room. “I must say, so far the Anglefords are the best of hosts!”

Just then a bell sounded somewhere below. Serena closed the window and the two of them turned to step into the hall, just as a maid appeared at the top of the stairs. She seemed surprised, but pleased, to see them already dressed.

“If you will come with me, Miss Amelia, Miss Serena,” she said with a little curtsy. “Dinner will be served shortly, and you may wait in the parlor next to the dining room.”

“Of course, and thank you,” Amelia said for both of them, and they followed the maid down the carpeted stairs and back to the first floor, where they found brother James perusing a newspaper in the parlor. Amelia hoped her stomach would not growl as the aromas from their dinner filled the room.

“I did not expect you two to be ready so soon,” he said, not getting up from his chair. “I thought you’d certainly be still in your baths. When I arrived I was so crusted with salt I thought I would stay in the bath for a week.” He looked very fine in his blue tailed coat of the same material as Amelia’s dress, brocade waistcoat, fawn breeches, and leather Hessian boots, all tailored exquisitely to fit closely to his figure.

“My word, James,” Amelia said, smiling a little. “You have become quite the macaroni!”

“They say ‘tulip’ here, and no, I am not that fine,” James laughed at her. “I merely strive to fit in.”

“Lazily lolling about as a lord?” Serena teased him. “Really, cousin, you are losing your American briskness here!”

“Nothing of the sort, minx,” he teased back. “I am a man of trade; I cannot afford to be anything other than brisk. I am merely relaxing in the home of my friend, enjoying the company of my kin. But here come our host and hostess, so let us not quarrel in front of them.”

“I wasn’t quarrelling!” Serena objected, with a smile. “I think you look quite dashing. If I weren’t your cousin, I’d set my cap at you.”

“There now, see, James!” Mrs. Angleford exclaimed. “Haven’t I just told you that very thing? If I were thirty years younger, Mr. Angleford would have a formidable rival!”

James blushed, which made Amelia giggle and Serena laugh aloud. They all settled close to the fire (another of those excellent stoves), presumably to wait for the announcement of dinner—something Amelia decided she would have to get used to. Except when entertaining company, there was no waiting for meals to be announced in the extensive Stonecroft family. Everyone came in to the dining room from washing up promptly at the sound of the dinner bell, which was at five by the chiming hall clock, and settled in at the table. All dishes were passed from hand to hand, with the few servants taking away the emptied plates and bowls and delivering full ones. It appeared that meals in the Angleford household were more like the formal ones the Stonecrofts sat to when there was company.

“I trust you girls are happy with your rooms?” Mrs. Angleford asked. “Amelia, you are in Grace’s old room, and Serena, you are in Sophia’s. Grace is Earth and Sophia is as well, so I thought the rose color would make you feel comfortable.”

“We like our rooms above all things,” Amelia replied promptly, as Serena nodded. “Are all your children Gifted?”

“We are all mages, but no Masters,” the husband replied. “For which I am grateful. There were tempests enough as the girls were growing up. I cannot imagine adding the power—and potential for mischief among the Elementals—of one or more of them being a Master to the mix!”

Amelia gave that the polite laugh that was expected, but was busy surveying her hostess’s gown. To her relief, it was of a similar mode to her own; it looked to be a good wool in a conservative style, with an embroidered bodice and embroidery down the front. I should have known that the maids would not betray me by putting out an inappropriate gown. Serena had opted for a sprig muslin with a red cotton twill spencer and wore her favorite pearl necklace, but then, Serena never felt the cold as much as Amelia did. This was, Amelia knew, one of the benefits of having Fire as one’s Element; Fire mages never felt the cold.

It had been clear from the first that the Anglefords were pleasant, hospitable people who enjoyed the company of unaffected guests, and were genuinely pleased to be able to play their hosts. The brief interval and the fine dinner itself were enlivened by some of the best conversation Amelia had ever experienced. She learned something of what her mother and father had been like when the only child in the household had been James, and Thomas Angleford had come to meet his father’s business partner. She was regaled with a bewildering menu of entertainments, both by day and by evening, which Julia Angleford laid out for them. “And, of course, there will be the visit to my modiste and the drapers’ warehouse,” she added, which made both Serena and Amelia sit up alertly. “Please do not think I am meaning to criticize your gowns,” she added hastily. “In fact, the dresses you two are wearing now are suitable and unexceptional. But you will very likely want at least some of your wardrobe refurbished and adjusted closer to the current mode, and you must have ball gowns, which I am sure you do not have.”

Amelia and Serena exchanged a look of alarm. “We have nothing like a ball gown of the sort we have seen in the magazines,” Amelia admitted. “But—”

“No objections! I will not hear them!” The worthy lady actually held her hands over her ears, to her husband and James’s great amusement. “You shall have ball gowns and opera cloaks. I have already consulted with your father and James about a clothing budget. We will take your things to my modiste and she will select the ones that need alteration and embellishment. She will show you illustrations for ball gowns, you shall pick what you like, and we will go to the drapers’ warehouse to select fabric and trimmings. It will all be very economical,” she added with a twinkle. “It is the warehouse. We will have the price the drapers’ shops pay, not the one the drapers charge their customers. We shall certainly not pay the price a modiste would charge for supplying the materials.”

“Advantage of being in the trade,” Thomas Angleford said complacently. “Could never have afforded all the frills and furbelows needed by six daughters and a wife otherwise!”

Serena fanned her face with her hand. “I feared my father was about to lose every cent of profit from this consignment!” she joked.

“Don’t you worry a bit,” Julia laughed. “Just let visions of pretty things dance in your dreams tonight. Soon enough you’ll be the ones dancing in them!”

With that pleasant prospect before them, they all returned to the parlor, where, as guests, Amelia and Serena did their best to entertain the others. Amelia played the piano, choosing American songs that she reckoned her hosts had never heard before, and so would be a novelty. Serena sang them. Serena’s voice was a low, warm contralto with a sort of purring effect underlying every note. It had the effect of making people relax without their understanding why.

James took a turn, reading the first chapter of a new novel set in Scotland—the fact that he read a novel, rather than something “improving,” greatly relieved Amelia once again. Clearly the Anglefords did not disapprove of novels—and Amelia very badly wanted to take out a subscription at the nearest lending library.

After that, Julia Angleford played and they all sang several old songs familiar to all of them. When she finished, the maid came in with chocolate for the ladies and claret for the gentlemen, which Amelia quickly deduced was the signal for the end to the evening and bed.

Amelia and Serena went up to their rooms, but both of them took to Serena’s first, and closed the door. Amelia made sure the door was secure, then went to the window and opened it, trying not to shiver too much in the cold breeze. By the time she turned around, Serena had already changed.

In a puddle of clothing on the rug, a magnificent leopard stood, gazing at Amelia with golden eyes. There was still the necklet of pearls around Serena’s neck.

“Hold still, you silly thing,” she chided, taking the necklet off. “You’d be bound to snap it, the pearls would be lost, and then your heart would be broken.”

The leopard bowed her head in acknowledgment of this truth.

“Go!” Amelia continued. “I’ll wait up for you here. Just paw the window and I’ll let you in. It’s too cold to leave the window open until you feel like returning.”

The leopard nodded and, with a graceful leap, was out of the window and into the night.

With a sigh, Amelia gathered up the discarded clothing and laid it on the stool in front of the dressing table. She resigned herself to a tedious, anxious hour—until she spotted a book on the bedside table beside an oil lamp burning with a fine, clear light.

She picked it up. “Mansfield Park,” she read aloud, and smiled. “By ‘a Lady’!”

She made a backrest of the pillows and draped a blanket over her legs, making herself comfortable before starting the book. Serena is very good about keeping herself in the shadows, she reminded herself. She even prowled the ship several times without detection. She may sometimes be flighty, but not about her shifting. There is no reason why I cannot enjoy some reading while I wait for her. And after a while that was actually true.

2

The tiny room smelled of lavender and roses, and ever so faintly of new fabric. The modiste eyed the contents of the two trunks of clothing spread around her without the contempt that Amelia had feared. When they had been introduced to this formidable, iron-haired, perfectly coiffed lady, in her exquisite lavender silk gown, with her aristocratic posture and her knowing blue eyes, Amelia had felt as if they were in the presence of royalty and was immediately intimidated.

Serena, of course, was not intimidated in the least—she was merely intensely interested in what the modiste said and did, as she was in most things, and those knowing eyes warmed slightly whenever they rested on Amelia’s cousin. In fact, the modiste murmured a few things directed to Serena (as she examined seams and linings and trimmings) that sounded like a combination of vague compliments combined with instructions.

After examining their clothing, Madame declared judgment. “These are not bad for the amateur,” the modiste said, with a faint French accent. “Well sewn, if inexpertly cut.” She had already measured both girls with such precision that Amelia was not in the least surprised by this assessment. “And some are adequate. The muslin dresses as dresses merely need ornamentation, and I am sure you may do this yourselves once I direct what trimmings are needed and how to place them. Your simpler winter gowns may stand as they are, although if you have time, I suggest you improve them as you see the latest modes. Fortunately, the gowns needing my touch are all too big. Adjustments can be made easily.” She began plucking garments from the chaos around her and depositing them back in the trunks. “This is adequate. This will not cause you to blush. And this. And this . . .” Amelia was very glad that the military-influenced gown she had worn the first night at the Anglefords’ passed muster, as she had designed and sewn it herself. When the modiste had finished, half of the garments remained, in two piles, one hers and one Serena’s. Now the harsher critique began. “Too missish, needs a lower neck and a more sophisticated trim. Needs a flounce at the hem and the sleeves. Too plain. Much too plain.” And so on. When she had finished, she had a list of the trimmings that she wanted the girls to procure, specific to each dress, spencer, or pelisse. To Amelia’s relief, she had not gone overboard on ruffles, flounces, and lace, at least not for her—though Serena’s gowns apparently required more of all three than Amelia’s did. Braids, tapes, and embroidered ribbons in specific colors were the choices for hers. It was astonishing how closely Madame had adhered to their chosen taste. Clearly she had paid exacting attention to their existing wardrobes.

We do have an awful lot of gowns, Amelia thought on reflection. But then, there was no lack of fabric at the Stonecroft estate. Clients of the Stonecroft dyes often sent large samples, or gifts as a thank-you. Amelia’s father Charles had been experimenting with water-powered looms on his own, and everyone reaped the benefit of these experiments. And there always seemed to be trunks in the attic that could be plundered. Even drapes and old linens were not safe! Amelia hoped that Madame had not noted that many of the soft muslin gowns and some of the spencers and heavier gowns had once bedecked beds and windows. Another cause for worry. She felt it would be unbearably humiliating if Madame had made that observation.

Madame sent the trunks with the “acceptable garments” as well as the muslin dresses in them off to be put on the Angleford coach, to be delivered back to the Anglefords’ address, and two of her “girls” were called in from another workroom to deal with the garments that had not quite met her exacting standards and needed to be re-cut and fitted.

The session was unexpectedly exhausting, and once they were through it, Madame Alexander looked up from the piles of fabric in her assistants’ arms and finally smiled sympathetically. “A glass of wine, I think,” she said. “And perhaps some cakes.”

She bustled them out of her workroom and into her even smaller parlor, leaving behind her two apprentices to carry off the garments she had already decided needed to be picked apart, re-cut, and re-sewn. The parlor was a tiny crimson room with a single window with plush drapes, a table, and delicate chairs for four, with a fire burning in a peach-colored ceramic stove set into a small fireplace. One of the apprentices appeared with a tray on which were three glasses of wine and some unfamiliar, seashell-shaped cakes. “Madeleines,” said Madame. “You will like them.” She said it as a proclamation rather than an opinion, and Amelia felt that it would be a disaster not to agree with her.

But as she bit into the buttery little cake—not too sweet, so it paired beautifully with the sweet sherry Madame had served—she found herself in perfect agreement. Madame continued discussing garments with Mrs. Angleford while the two girls quietly nibbled and sipped in a state of mental exhaustion. This was very different from looking at the beautiful illustrations in The Lady’s Monthly Museum, The Lady’s Magazine, or the more lofty La Belle Assemblee, and trying to replicate a gown in the more simplified form that would suit their own relatively rustic living. No, apparently Madame intended the altered gowns to be in full accord with those shown in the pages of those august tomes. It made Amelia’s head spin.

Her first thought was But we don’t need anythingthis—fancy! But then she reconsidered. They needed to dress the part here, and the part was not that of girls who were as likely to find themselves helping to gather eggs as entertaining a visitor. The part was that of “daughters of landed gentlemen who just happened to also be in trade.” Those girls would never be found in aprons chasing after hens, or slogging through mud and rain in wooden Dutch clogs to save their shoes and slippers. Their gowns needed to reflect that.

A glance at Serena told her in an instant that Serena was more than rising to the occasion, she was reveling in it. Meanwhile Madame and Julia were continuing to make notes about the trimmings that they would be purchasing at the drapers’ warehouse. Only once did either Amelia or Serena speak up to contradict her.

“No swansdown!” Amelia said firmly when swansdown trimming was suggested. She’d once had a swansdown muff as a present and she’d given it away almost immediately. It had made her skin crawl.

“No indeed,” agreed Serena. “It makes us sneeze.”

Amelia cast her a grateful glance for the clever excuse; the truth was that she could not bear the thought of sacrificing any of those beautiful birds just to trim a gown or make a muff. True, she had no objection to ermine . . . but weasels were nasty little creatures, and it was easy enough to harden her heart against them. But swans! No.

Madame raised an eyebrow and shook her head slightly, but changed the order to a heavy silk braid. That suited Amelia just fine.

When the list was complete—and Amelia could only admire Madame’s memory for color, cut, and purpose of all those garments, as well as how she intended to ornament each of them—Madame paused to have the glasses and the tray of crumbs taken away, hooded her eyes, and purred, “And now we discuss the new garments.”

Julia Angleford nodded. “At least one ball gown,” she said.

“Two,” replied Madame. “Summer and winter. For the summer, the lightest of silk. For the winter, silk velvet or a silk twill or jacquard. We will have detachable long sleeves that will fit under the puffed sleeves for both, so that you will effectively have four gowns, rather than two. Shawls. An evening cloak for each. Your pelisses I will alter, your spencers you can re-trim. Possibly a new sleeveless overgown, fastened beneath the bosom, suitable for evening dress.” She rang a small bell on the table and another assistant appeared with a book of gown pictures, cut from many magazines, but all of the latest mode. Madame and Julia pored over it, with Serena and Amelia craning their necks to see what they were discussing. If this had happened before Madame had finished going through their existing clothing, Amelia would have been in a knot of even more anxiety, wondering if she was