Broom with a View (20 page)

Mr. Wilberforce could not imagine it; nor did he want to. In Cyril’s world, trees only forked in a good Christian manner. Miss Popplewell was a charming girl, the young gentleman allowed, but her pagan ways were sometimes quite alarming.

“I say. What’s that?” Cyril bent at the waist, two fingers steadying his pince
-nez, to examine a man’s boot that was half hidden under a shrub.

“Oh,” the girl exclaimed. “I think you’d better bring that along with us.”

“Whatever for?” Mr. Wilberforce asked, viewing the boot with distaste.

“You’ll see,” was her answer as she attempted to suppress a giggle. “We must be getting close.”

“I’d rather not,” the young man admitted, making a face at the footwear.

“Please just bring the boot, Cyril,” Violet said with a sigh of frustration. Looking down, she saw something shiny sparkling in the sunlight and retrieved a pearl cuff
link from the grass. The initials engraved on the back read LWB. “I wonder if this belongs to Mr. B,” she said, mostly to herself.

Cyril frowned. “What cause would Mr. Beelzebub have to be scattering cuff
links about?”

They walked a little further, gathering up a straw hat that looked remarkably like a boater that Sonny preferred to wear during the summer months and the other pearl cuff
link. “It’s like following a trail of bread crumbs,” Violet said with a laugh.

They passed through another small copse of birch and then into an open glade. “There,” Violet said, squinting at three very peculiar colored mounds in the grass. “I think we’ve found our wayward friends.”

Cyril adjusted his spectacles, convinced he was staring at three large, pale-colored boulders in a field of toadstools and lilies of the valley. “Where?” he wondered aloud.

His fiancée laughed, gesturing towards the boulders. “There,” she said. “I think it’s a better idea for you to wake them rather than me.”

Still unaware of what was happening, Cyril cautiously approached the boulders to investigate. When he glanced back in Miss Popplewell’s direction, he saw that, although giggling, she had demurely turned away.

At closer range, Cyril realized that the boulders were, in fact, his future brother-in-law, the holy man
, and the Vampire, completely undressed and happily snoozing in the meadow, curled in the fetal position. “Quick, Violet, shield your eyes!” he called out to his fiancée, but his warning served no purpose as the girl’s back was already turned.

Feeling the anger that can come with extreme embarrassment, Mr. Wilberforce shouted at the men. “Get up this instant! You are all making a spectacle of yourselves.”

Nobody moved. Nobody made a peep. There was only the sound of the wind and a honeybee browsing amongst the flowers.

“I say,” he exclaimed, prodding at Sonny with the tip of the boot. “You can’t lie around like that all day.”

“Why ever not?” the young man grumbled, obviously reluctant to relinquish his slumber.

“Because you haven’t got any clothes on,” Mr. Wilberforce sputtered.

Sonny’s eyes flew open. “Oh.” Propping himself up on one elbow, he looked around. “Good morning, there, Violet,” he called to his sister.

“Good morning
.” She returned his greeting without turning around. “Dancing with the fairies again?”

“Yes,” he said with a sheepish grin. “What gave us away?”

“What do you mean, fairies?” Cyril asked, looking around the field as if he feared a swarm of angry bees.

“You know, the wee folk,” Sonny told him while giving Mr. B and Sebastian a bit of a nudge. “Wake up, fellows,” he told them. “It’s time to pay the piper.” Returning his attention to Cyril he asked, “I don’t suppose you happened to bring any spare clothes?”

“Certainly not,” was Cyril’s crisp reply.

“Good Goddess,” Mr. B exclaimed, finally gaining his senses and scrambling about for something to cover himself. “Where the devil have our clothes got off to?”

Undaunted by his future brother-in-law’s disdain, Sonny called out, “Sis, I was wondering if you might conjure us up something to wear. I was planning on asking out the Collins girl and if we have to go parading through town completely starkers, I’m sure she’ll say no.”

“Very well,” Violet said with an indulgent sigh. Pulling her wand from her pocket, she stood very still, closed her eyes
, and listened to the wind. She carefully turned one way and then the other until she heard the faint sound of clothing flapping on a line. Circling her wand quickly through the air in tight little circles, Violet whispered a short spell. A moment later, a small whirlwind appeared beneath the clothesline. It grew rapidly larger and larger until the wind was strong enough to yank the clothing free.

Still keeping her wand twirling
, Miss Popplewell made little tugs with it in her direction, and the clothes started dancing across the backyard of whoever had done the wash and heading towards the glade where the men concealed their nude figures. “I’ll have something for you in a moment,” Violet assured them without looking in their direction. The clothes started sashaying into view as she spoke.

“Oh
, no you won’t,” said an angry woman’s voice, the sturdy figure of a farmer’s wife also appearing on the horizon. “You keep trying to steal my clothes, and I’ll call the constable,” she said, snatching a man’s undershirt from the whirlwind.

“You must forgive us, dear lady,” Mr. B said, quite embarrassed and doing his best to conceal himself. “But you see, we find ourselves quite undressed. We only wish to borrow your garments for an hour or two so that we can return to our homes and dress ourselves properly.”

“That’s what you say, but I know how it will be,” the woman replied, not at all embarrassed by the nudity. “I’ll sit around all day waiting, and you’ll never come back. Then I’ll have to explain to my husband why his Sunday shirt’s gone missing again and send him after you to take it out of your hide. That’s thieving, you know.”

“My good woman, you don’t understand,” Mr. B said, doing his best to placate her. “We have no intention of stealing your clothes. It’s just we’ve had a bit of trouble with the…” and here he was at a loss for what to say. She was, after all, a Mortal woman.

“Trouble with fairies. Yes, I know all about them,” she said, snatching a pair of pants out of the sky, not at all moved towards charity. “This entire area is infested with them. I’ve had my husband spray for fairies a dozen times, and it never does any good. Then fine gentlemen like yourselves encourage them by setting out cups of wine and dancing about like fools. Next thing you know, your clothes are all gone, and you decide to help yourselves from my washing,” she all but shouted while grabbing at the clothes that twirled past. “Well, I’m sick of the fairies, and I’m sick of thieving gentlemen, and I’m not going to put up with it anymore. Find somebody else to steal from, you good for nothings.”

With the last pair of socks tucked under her arm, she turned to go, pausing for a moment to shout over her shoulder, “And stay off my property
, or I’ll sic the dog on you.”

“Nice spell work, there, Violet,” Sonny said in a teasing voice.

“Oh, be good, or I’ll leave you to figure your own troubles out,” his sister fired back at him.

“Try getting something from the house,” Sonny suggested.

“Oh, right.” Violet turned to go.

“With your wand, not with your feet,” her brother prompted.

“I hate to be a bother, but has anyone at least seen the umbrella? It is awfully bright out this morning,” Sebastian said, finally finding his voice.

“And try to find Sebastian’s umbrella first,” Sonny said. “We really don’t want to bring him back to his father as a piece of overcooked bacon.”

“Hush,” Violet said, trying to focus on her brother’s wardrobe way back on Gallows Road.

Ten minutes later, the men were all dressed again. It was a bit of luck that Sonny had mentioned searching for the umbrella because Violet’s wand found it with ease—and that gave her an idea. In the end, Miss Popplewell discovered it easier to gather the clothing from what the fairies had discarded in the surrounding countryside. She’d been able to conjure most of what the men had lost. Fairies have no real use for human clothes. Mr. Du Monde’s pants were nowhere to be found, although he had his choice of three surplus pairs that must have been left by previous visitors to the glade who had proffered sweet drink and enjoyed a bit of dancing.

“I’m excessively grateful that you were able to find my cuff
links,” Mr. B told Miss Popplewell once he’d finished dressing. “I can always replace a shirtfront or a pair of trousers, but these links mean a lot to me.”

“I’m happy to be of help,” the girl told him
, and it was true.

“Yes, well
, now that everyone is decent, I think my fiancée and I shall be on our way,” Cyril said, his ideas of proper behaviour having been thoroughly taxed. “Perhaps we ought not to walk back through the village together?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Violet began to say.

“Please.” Cyril cut her off. “I’m thinking of your reputation as well as my own.”

“Oh, Cyril,” Violet said with a sigh. “Haven’t you ever danced with the fairies and woken up in a state of undress?” She
’d done so herself as a child and didn’t find anything wrong with it that warranted penance beyond a red face.

“No, I can say with all honesty that I have never done such a thing,” Mr. Wilberforce informed. “And I would expect, as my future wife, that you would find that behavio
ur equally deplorable.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, old sport,” Sonny said, slapping Mr. Wilberforce on the back and causing his glasses
to pop off. “A bit of good fun if you don’t mind a raging headache as the price you pay. Mother’s honeysuckle wine can really come back at you.”

Chapter 19: The Importance of Change

“I just had a note from your Aunt Ver
a that she’ll be joining us for a day or two,” Mrs. Popplewell told her family at breakfast a few days later.

Sonny and Violet exchanged looks across the table. “I thought she just left,” Sonny said. “She’s barely had time to unpack
, and now you tell us she’s going to turn around and head back here. I don’t see why she even bothered leaving in the first place.”

“Don’t be cruel,” his mother scolded, shooting him a stern look. “She’s having trouble with her… um…There’s something wrong with her...” her words faded.

Sonny rolled his eyes. “Her boiler, perhaps? Or the gnomes in her garden, which are more than likely gophers. Has the neighbour’s dog taken a decided dislike to her? Or is it the plumbing? Or maybe the roof has sprung a leak. Seriously, mother, I don’t think there’s one more thing that can go wrong with her house. Sometimes I think she’s the one breaking things just so she has an excuse to stay here while she waits for her landlord to mend whatever she imagines to be the problem.” Turning to include Cyril in the conversation, he added, “That’s the trouble with Mortal landlords. What should be solved with a quick flick of a wand or a simple incantation, they spend weeks fussing over. They take forever to do anything.”

“That is very unkind, you wretched beastie. Your poor aunt lives all by herself,” his mother chastised him. “Did it ever occur to you that she might just be lonely and enjoy our company?”

“I’m sorry,” Sonny said, getting to his feet and placing a kiss on top of his mother’s head. “It’s just… Well… You know how Vera is.”

“No,” Mrs. Popplewell said, stabbing at her grapefruit with a spoon. “How is she?”

Just then there was the sound of someone tapping quietly at the door, sparing Sonny from answering the question. “I’ll get it,” he said, grateful for the diversion.

“That must be Vera now,” Mrs. Popplewell mused. “I suppose she caught the early train.”

“By the way,” Sonny said as he headed out of the room. “I’ve asked Sebastian Du Monde to join us this afternoon for a bit of sport.”

“You did what?” Cyril exclaim
ed.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Sonny asked, already tiring of enduring his future brother-in-law’s frequent overreactions to every small piece of news. “Mr. B likes him
, and I’m sure Professor Yog won’t raise a fuss. Plus, he’s actually a tenant of Mr. Wainbright’s. That’s got to be worth something.”

“The house will be crowded enough as it is, if Vera’s joining us,” Violet commented, feeling her throat
get a little tight.

“I didn’t ask him to spend the night,” Sonny insisted. “I just think he’s good fun. Besides, I thought you liked him. Weren’t you all thick as thieves at that pensione of yours in X?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly put it like that,” Violet mumbled, hoping no one had noticed that her face was a bit red.