Broom with a View (25 page)

“What is it?” Violet exclaimed, thinking maybe his backside had encountered an upholstery tack.

“Spider,” the man squeaked, pointing at the airspace over the chair. “The largest spider in the world.”

“Where?” Violet looked around, expecting to see a hairy creature the size of a dinner plate dangling from the ceiling.

“There! There!” Cyril said, pointing at a small black spot that was slowly descending towards the desk.

“Cyril absolutely abhors spiders,” Lady Wilberforce said as if his reaction was perfectly natural in a man.

Violet looked closer and saw that, indeed, the small spot was a spider. “Well, hello little friend,” she greeted the creature in a soft voice. It looked up at her with its eight goggling eyes. “How long have you been hanging around?”

The spider shrugged in that particular way only spiders can do.

“I’m afraid you won’t find much to eat in here,” the girl confided. “No flies allowed.”

“I can’t believe you’re chatting to a spider. Are you trying to make friends or something?” Cyril wanted to know.

“Spiders are very magical creatures,” Violet informed him. “They have the magic of eight. Eight legs, eight eyes, eight lives.”

“Eight lives!” Cyril exclaimed, practically climbing up on the back of the sofa.

“I was just joking about that last part. Cats are the only creatures with numerous lives, as far as I know.” Violet got out her wand and held it up to the spider. “Come along, friend,” she told it. “If you trust me, I’ll take you someplace where you’ll have a much better chance of getting something to eat.”

The spider regarded her for a moment, assessing her trustworthiness. When you’re a spider, there aren’t a lot of other creatures who willingly call you friend. Then it climbed up onto the tip of her wand.

“You’re not going to do some sort of magic with it, are you?” Lady Wilberforce asked. She was also starting to appear a bit ruffled.

“Of course not,” Violet said, giving the lady a funny look. “I’m going to take her outside so she can live with the roses.”

“In my garden?” Lady Wilberforce was aghast.

“Spiders are good for gardens,” her future daughter-in-law informed her. “The roses will love her
, and she will keep away the pests that might munch on them.”

Mr. Wilberforce practically scampered to the other side of the room to stand behind his mother as Miss Popplewell carried the spider out on the tip of her wand. “That’s my fiancé,” Violet replied to the spider’s inquiring look as they left the room. “He’s a little bit high strung.”

When the spider gave her a flat look, she sighed and said, “I know. We probably won’t be engaged for very much longer.”

By the time Violet had the spider settled, she was determined to end things with Cyril. She didn’t exactly need a big strong man to take care of her, but she wasn’t very attracted to a man who was constantly hiding behind his mother’s skirt.

Sitting down with Cyril at the far end of the room, away from the sharp ears of Lady Wilberforce, Violet made her first attempt to sever their relationship. It went very poorly. In fact, so poorly that Mr. Wilberforce had no idea what she was about. He assumed she was just suffering from a bit of nerves after dealing with such a large spider. Try as she may, she just couldn’t bring the words to her lips that expressed her desire to be free of him. Cyril stared at her for a good two minutes before saying, “Are you quite all right? Should I have a servant fetch you a glass of wine?”

“I’m fine,” Violet finally managed to say. “I want to talk to you, but I just can’t right now.”

“I’m sure it’s the spider, my poor darling,” Cyril said, patting her hand rather fondly. “The next time you find one in the house, just ring for a servant. There’s no need for you to have to tangle with such a beast.”

Lying in bed that night, Violet wondered about the cause of her tongue being tied. It just didn’t make any sense. She’d never had any trouble expressing herself before. In fact, quite the opposite. Her mother had on more than one occasion admonished her for expressing her opinions a bit too liberally.

Each day, Lady Wilberforce had a new task for Violet to perform—freshening the drapes for her bedroom, attending to a drafty hallway, whipping up a little charm to keep the servants from helping themselves from the wine cellar; the girl was at her beck and call. Each time, Violet asked Cyril to stand up for her, and to Mr. Wilberforce’s credit, he did at least try. Lady Wilberforce would shoot him down with such vigor that Violet almost felt sorry for him; he always looked so crushed.

After failing so miserably at expressing to Cyril how his behavio
ur during the house fire had truly repelled her, Violet understood that she would never be able to summon the words to her lips that would end her alliance with Mr. Wilberforce. She knew she had to find a different way to explain to him that, although she was sure he was very cosmopolitan and debonair and whatever else he believed himself to be, she knew he could never make her happy. It occurred to the girl that, while she might not be able to speak of ending her engagement to Mr. Wilberforce, there was a possibility she could write of it.

Finding she was out of paper, Violet thought she would borrow a few sheets from Lady Wilberforce’s desk. She’d been told to make use of any amenity of the house
, and she assumed that included access to stationery. Still, it didn’t seem right to use Lady Wilberforce’s personalized paper. It would be strange to end her engagement to Cyril in a letter that bore his mother’s initials embossed above the note.

The top drawer of the desk proved fruitful in terms of writing paper that was unaffiliated. Violet gathered a few sheets and, as she did so, thought she saw the sparkle of some very small magic in the corner of the drawer. It happened so quickly
, and it was only a glimmer—a moment later, the girl convinced herself she was mistaken. She was, after all, the only magical being in the house.

As Violet went to remove the sheets from the drawer, a very fine silver thread caught hold of her little finger. It was as thin as a whisper and slightly sticky, like that of a spider’s web. The other end of the thread tugged at the corner of the board that composed the bottom of the desk drawer. Violet only noticed the thread as she was pulling the papers free; it clung fast to her pinky as well as the board, lifting the wood and revealing a secret compartment full of papers and ma
king them flutter.

Not being one to snoop in other’s private affairs, Violet straightened the letters and then went to fit the board back in place without exploring the contents of the compartment further. But then something caught her eye
—the name Popplewell included on the top page of a correspondence. It’s unlikely that there is a human being on the planet who would not take a moment to scan a letter where her or his own name is prominently displayed.

Chapter 24: An Unpleasant Discovery

Glancing around to make sure she was thoroughly alone, Violet pulled the letter from the drawer and read:

My Dear Lady Wilberforce,

I cannot express to you enough the paramount importance of permanently separating Mr. Du Monde from the Popplewell girl. I know you are not of the Crafting community, so you do not fully understand the powerful magic that could be created with a romantic alliance between a Witch and a Vampire. I believe that I am well within the realm of possibilities when I state that this attraction that they feel for each other, which you apparently view as only a small spark, has the potential to ignite a blaze that would spread across the globe, possibly leading to a state of permanent peace. I know there’s no need to tell you what a disaster that would be for our endeavors. The very foundation on which we have built everything would crumble. All that we have worked for is at stake. Large fortunes, including your own, would likely blow away like ash in the wind. I know you must believe I am exaggerating about the magic that has the potential to be forged, but unequivocally, I am not.

I have personally witnessed Mr. Du Monde and Miss Popplewell together and can tell you without reservation that they are desperately in love. The Vampire acknowledges his emotions openly, but fortunately for us, the girl is still in a state of denial. I have just arrange
d for a disruption at the Popplewell house that should leave her vulnerable and provide you an opportunity to take her into your home and keep her there.

Believe me when I write that none of our anti-Vampire propaganda can withstand a magic that is created by love. Make sure your son puts every effort into binding the girl with a marriage vow as soon as possible.

As with all our communiqué
s, destroy this correspondence upon completion of reading.

With regards,

Professor E. T. Yog

Miss Popplewell stood glued to the rug, her sweet pink lips forming a small O of surprise.
Professor Yog had arranged for the Vampires to burn their house? His words could have no other meaning, but Violet simply could not comprehend them. Convinced she must have somehow misunderstood the letter, she tried to read it again, but the Professor’s ornate script swooped and twirled around the page, making her eyes ache.

There was the sound of footsteps tapping along the floor outside the room. Quickly snatching up all of the hidden letters, Violet looked around for somewhere to conceal them. She had no handbag or hat with her
, and there were too many papers for her to hide them behind her skirt.

Whispering a short spell, Violet folded the papers in half, then in half again. She kept folding and folding until the large bundle of letters was so small she could tuck it down the bodice of her dress and still appear perfectly normal.

There was the sound of someone clearing his throat outside the door. It was a habit of Cyril’s to do so before entering a room. The phlegmy rumbling wore on Violet’s nerves, but it gave her warning that she was about to be caught. Fast as lightning, she pushed the hidden compartment shut and slid the drawer closed.

“Hello
, darling,” Cyril said, smiling at her. “I was wondering where you had got to.”

Violet did not say anything
. She just stared at her fiancé, wondering how entangled he was in the plot.

“I know it’s a bother, but Mother needs you down at the stables,” Cyril informed her. “There’s a problem with one of the mares.”

With great difficulty, Violet managed to say, “I am feeling a bit unwell myself. Please make my excuses to your mother. I must lie down.”

“You are unwell?” Cyril asked, stepping
forwards with a look of concern behind his spectacles.

“I am well,” she said, scurrying away from him. “I mean, I am not well.” She headed for the door. “I mean, I believe I am probably quite contagious
, and I have no desire to share my malady with you.”

Cyril withdrew his concern and himself, taking several steps away from her. “Feel better, darling,” he called after her as she headed upstairs. “I’m sure mother will understand once I explain the situation.”

Alone in her room, Miss Popplewell unfolded the bundle of letters. They were all from Professor Yog, and they all stated explicitly that the correspondence was to be burned once read. Violet wondered at the foolishness of Lady Wilberforce to simply hide them in a drawer. But then again, Violet would have never found them herself if she hadn’t been kind to a spider who had enough eyes to see what was really going on in the mansion from a bird’s eye view over Lady Wilberforce’s writing desk and enough magic to guide the girl’s hand.

Arranging the correspondence
s by date, Violet read them all from beginning to end. Her brain kept telling her such treacheries were impossible, but her eyes kept informing her that Professor Yog and Lady Wilberforce had been conspiring for decades to cause animosity between Vampires and Witches, even going so far as orchestrating the attack on the Archmage of Canterbury. As far as she could make out, it was all done for war profiteering. “As if money was ever a good reason for getting people killed,” Violet muttered to herself in disgust.

Apparently, Professor Yog was very aware that Sebastian was attracted to her
, and for some reason, he found this attraction most upsetting. He stated again and again in his writing that an alliance between a Witch and a Vampire, especially one where true love was the uniting force, would be disastrous to their plans.

“But I don’t love him,” Violet protested to an empty room, the words tasting flat and hollow in her mouth, like water that’s been sitting out in a cup overnight.

The walls of the room felt like they were closing in, and Violet found the air to be stifling. She knew she had to get out. She had to get free of the Wilberforces and make what she could of the letters when she had the chance to breathe. Shrinking the papers back down to a size for concealment, she tucked them down her bodice. There was no time to pack her bags; she would have to send for her things later. She simply grabbed her hat and headed out the door.