Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Twenty-Six

"Ah yes," he said, as if remembering Hugh had sent him with a purpose.

"While we were at the festival, Lord Baines's gamekeeper let slip that his Lordship was planning a trip to London. Your brother seems especially on edge with the other Lord and he asked if I'd come see that you were alright, what with the full moon just around the corner," he trailed off at the look Hannah and Constance traded.

"Has he been here?" He asked.

"We saw him at Parliament. We were all there when the Prime Minister was shot, and after it seemed like he was trying to get to us, but there was so much chaos everywhere." Hannah held her palms up.

"Could be a coincidence?" He said, unsure.

Constance wrapped her arms around herself.

"What's got your brother so worked up, anyway?"

"He—" Hannah looked at Constance.

Constance felt her cheeks burn, that feeling of being a helpless fool crushing her chest. "He trapped me in Hugh's room," Constance whispered.

Owen looked at Hannah with a furrowed brow.

"It was a full moon," Hannah explained.

Owen swore.

"He meant for Hugh to kill me." Her words hung heavy in the air and she couldn't help but wonder if the thing that had saved her would be the very thing to turn Hugh against her.

"Miss Allen, I'm truly sorry."

She gave him a weak smile.

"I think I ought to stay then," he said, to Hannah almost a question. "At least until we're sure he's gone from the city. Even if it was a coincidence." He looked at Constance. "I mean, London is the place he'd come for business, and he's a Lord. It wouldn't be out of the question for him to be at Parliament."

He was trying to put her at ease, but it wasn't working. Constance couldn't sit. She stood and paced to the window.

"I agree you better stay just in case," Hannah said, and there was a note of joy buried in the concern.

"How long has my family been gone?" Constance asked, looking out the window across the tree-lined street toward the park.

"I'm sure they're alright," Hannah said.

"Would you like me to go fetch them, Miss?" Owen asked.

The door flew open with a crash. Constance flinched and Owen shot to his feet.

"Constance!" Simon yelled. "Look at these. They're purple." He burst into the parlor cradling delicate lavender colored mushrooms.

"Oh my heavens," Hannah said, laughing weakly.

"Mr. Banfield, this is my brother Simon," Constance said, feeling ridiculous. "Simon, this is Mr. Banfield."

Simon grunted a greeting before laying the mushrooms on the tea table carefully. Constance could hear Gran and Mother in the hall removing hats and gloves. Simon sat back and looked at Constance expectantly.

"Those are beautiful," she said dutifully.

"Very," Hannah agreed.

"Are you interested in mushrooms?" Owen asked, crouching down to get a better look at them.

"All fungus," Simon said, straightening.

"Me too," Owen said, leaning forward. "It amazes me how many varieties there are. These look to be Saint Georges, though I've never seen this color."

Simon looked at Owen with renewed interest. "Would you like to see my mushroom journal?"

"You don't have to," Constance said.

"Of course I want to. A good gamekeeper knows as much about the natural habitat around him as he can. You would not believe the fungus I've seen at Carnsley."

Simon's eyes lit up. "We're hoping to come to Scotland this summer."

Owen looked at Hannah. "Truly." his breath hitched and the way he looked at Hugh's sister made Constance's heart ache with something close to jealousy.

"Constance and I are trying to convince Hugh," Hannah said.

Owen looked at Constance, hope in his gaze.

"I'm not sure if I can make a difference," she said. Could she influence Hugh? Her heart stuttered. If she wanted to, she probably could, against his will without his knowledge. Her palms prickled, and her stomach roiled around.

"Constance, are you alright?" Beatrice asked, coming into the parlor.

Did Mother possess some kind of power, too? Something she'd never even hinted at. Had she kept it from father? She'd certainly known Hugh was a werewolf. Constance's head spun.

"Constance?" She lay her cool hand on Constance's forehead.

"I'm not feeling well," she whispered. "Will you excuse me?" She nearly ran from the room, the bird clutched in her hand.