The Mortality of Queens

10 The Ace of Moons

 Larkenfen

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Umbra of note

Galt and his human ally Miss Pikestaff

Hellekin and her human ally George Gracegirdle (Papa)

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'What kind of Umbra will you have, Lavinia?' Tabitha was head down studying The Book of 500 on Governess Pikestaff's desk as closely as Mr John Harrison might the innards of a marine chronometer. It was not six inches from her nose, her head clamped between hands that twisted in her chestnut hair, her elbows spread over the desk.

The Book lay open on Tabitha's favourite spread. It wasn't a current edition, but the one from 1788, the first to be printed with colour illustrations. It was much thumbed and even missing a page, long since torn out. Tabitha viewed an illustration displaying the late Sir Joshua Reynolds's most recent rendering of Aunt Jane and her Umbra.

'Scampion looks so shrewd in his little jacket with silver buttons. He would give good counsel, I think.'

'He should counsel himself to procure a better hat,' said Naomi, who sat at the long sturdy table that served as a school desk for the sisters. Cassie was perched upon the table while Lavinia prowled the room studying her father's prints on the walls.

'My Umbra will be more comely and of better disposition than Pikestaff's performing bear.' Lavinia was garnering her grievances, arming for an argument.

Miss Pikestaff had hunted them down in their favourite spot, the trees above the lane that led to the village of Reedston and from there to Eely Bridge. She was angry that they had scared a messenger, sent to Larkenfen from Reedston.

'It will not do, girls,' she shouted up into the branches, 'if you are not in the schoolroom, properly attired and with no sign of rabblement within five minutes, I shall take up quill to your aunt.'

They were now present and presentable, but Miss Pikestaff was still elsewhere in the house, learning the messenger's news.

'Papa should sack Pikestaff,' said Lavinia, 'What use is she to us? She cannot draw a quarter as well as he, learning to crochet and doing needlepoint with her is a torment, and why bother to teach us French, for if we go there now, we would be locked away like Marie Antoinette.'

'Miss Pikestaff is not Papa's to sack,' Cassie reminded her twin. 'Aunt Jane pays for her to attend us, and you know mother would not allow it.'

'She is to turn us into ladies,' Tabitha performed a twirl, 'so we can ally with the most gallant Umbra and are fit to be seen in London dancing at balls and conversing at the table.'

'Why would anyone care if I use a spoon or a fork to eat my potted beef?' said Naomi, who often sided with Lavinia and provided her older sister with better arguments. 'I wonder at a woman who can take so much time to teach us nothing of import. She is the worst of them so far.'

The sisters had seen off three governesses. The first had lasted five months before denouncing them as little better than vagabonds. In her letter to Aunt Jane, the second governess had named them 'barbarous rakehells'. She had written this from the sanctuary of the Lamprey Inn at Reedston, having fled within a week. The third, Miss Bell – the only one to have been given Papa's blessing – had fared better. The sisters, and Cassie in particular, had taken both to her and her Umbra, Partridge – a dryad thought Tabitha, who spent more time studying such things. Lamentably, Miss Bell had been taken by an outbreak of the pestilence while on a visit to Eely Bridge.