The Mysterious Howling (14 page)

“Disappointing if so,” the other man commented. “They don't seem so very wild at the moment.”

“No, ha! They look quite vegetative, in fact.” The first man regarded them openly, as if they could not see him examining them from three feet away. “Actually they seem like three unwilling children who've been dressed up and dragged to a party when they'd rather be jumping rope, ha! I quite sympathize.” He bent over to put his face quite near to Cassiopeia and spoke loudly and slowly, as if she were an idiot. “Halloo, there, young lady. I am Baron Hoover. And what name do you go by?”

“My name Cassawoof,” she said, staring stubbornly at the floor.

“Cassa—what? Woof? Ha, that's rich!” He straightened. “And how about you lads? Do you have woofy names also?”

“Alexander. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Alexander said carefully, with a bow.

“A pleasure, I'm sure—oops! Start over, sorry. Beowulf. A pleasure, I'm sure.” Chagrined by his minor muddle, Beowulf cast a nervous glance toward Penelope, who nodded reassuringly.

The man called Maytag looked startled. “Did you
hear that, Hoover? Blast it all, they can talk English, and they're not even covered with hair. Let's go find Ashton and give him a what-for. The chap's been pulling our leg.”

Hoover surveyed the children with curiosity. “I'd say you're right, Maytag. Why, these children are perfectly normal, as children go, anyway.”

“Bad news, what?” Maytag remarked, as they walked away, drinks in hand. “I expect there'll be no hunting tonight after all.”

No hunting tonight
. . . What on earth did he mean by that? Penelope felt an icy chill pierce her through. Luckily, the children did not hear this perplexing remark; they were too busy staring at the regal woman with the elaborate fur-collared dress who had just entered the room. One side of the collar was adorned with tails, the other with heads. One would be hard-pressed to pick which side was the lucky one, since both were equally dead.

W
HEN
L
ADY
C
ONSTANCE
made her entrance, she looked like nothing so much as the star attraction of a dessert cart in a fancy restaurant—cream skin, strawberry lips, with her yellow hair swirled 'round her head like rich lemon-butter frosting. Her gown was of the purest
white, with a lace overlay that floated around her like mist, nearly invisible except for where it was touched here and there with iridescent beads that glittered as she walked. She was escorted by two different gentlemen, neither of whom was her husband. Her talk was animated, her eyes flashed, her smile dazzled. It was all a bit much. She reminded Penelope of a windup toy whose key has been given a few turns too many.

“I must say, life at Ashton Place has me
completely
spoiled. From the first day it has been a dream come true, and all thanks to my darling Fredrick. And I am sure that was the best dinner I have ever eaten in my life! Now I will have no appetite for normal everyday meals ever again. Next time you see me, I will have wasted away to skin and bones—oh, look who is lurking here among the foliage! It is the legendary, world-famous Incorrigibles and their obscure governess.”

Her smile hardly altered, which is to say it did alter, slightly. Something brittle and false seeped into her expression. “Good evening, Miss Lumley. I hope your ears have not been burning! It appears that Lord Fredrick has told his friends at the club a great deal about the children. Indeed, all during dinner some of our guests could hardly speak of anything else. You can imagine how delighted I was about that!”

Clearly Lady Constance was not delighted about it at all; in fact, the mistress of Ashton Place looked as if she might like to punch someone. Penelope readied herself to leap to the children's defense should it prove necessary.

“Now step forward, please, and let me see if the tailor and Madame LePoint have managed to make a silk purse out of a wolf's ear,
ha ha ha!
” The gentlemen at Lady Constance's elbows laughed along obediently. “Hmm, the children are presentable, that is as it should be.” She gazed coolly at Penelope. “And Miss Lumley, may I say that dress makes you look positively professional. But, come, you cannot spend the party at the door. Join us for some tea and petites madeleines, and then we shall clear away the dessert tables and the games and the dancing can begin.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Many eyes will be upon you, Miss Lumley, so take care. You need not speak to anyone unless spoken to, of course.”

Penelope tried to work up the courage to ask Lady Constance about this hunting business that the gentlemen had remarked about, but before she could speak, a new admirer was upon them, flanked by Hoover and Maytag. He was older than the other two men, and to be frank he was very ugly to look upon: His hair was coarse and jet-black, his nose was oddly shapeless, and he wore
large thick glasses that distorted the shape of his eyes. But his walk had an energetic, feline spring, and there was a disarming, self-mocking lilt to his voice.

“Lady Ashton, you are a vision,” he crooned, taking one of her hands in both of his and bestowing upon it a gentlemanly kiss. “That dress suits you. It is like moonlight on snow. And the party is a triumph. It is a shame Lord Ashton could not join us for dinner, of course, but you must not let that trouble you. Be thankful he is not a navy man! Then he would be away from home for months at a time.”

At the mention of her husband Lady Constance's left eye began to twitch. “You are very kind, Judge Quinzy. I doubt I should like being married to a sailor, though. I get terribly seasick. One time, when I was a girl, I was just sitting on the riverbank watching a sculling match, and after only a few minutes, I was nearly ready to—”

“Judge Quinzy,” Beowulf volunteered, now feeling surer of himself. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Judge Quinzy turned to locate the source of this voice emanating from the potted plants. The change in his demeanor upon seeing the children was hard to describe. It was not a change of expression, nor of complexion—it was more as if a sheer curtain had suddenly been drawn across his face.

Baron Hoover nudged Judge Quinzy in the ribs. “‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,' did you hear that? Ashton's been putting one over on us. These brats talk better than most of the unwashed hordes that appear before your bench, and the law insists on calling that lot human, doesn't it?”

“It does, Hoover, it certainly does—although not without controversy, in some circles. My, my! So these are the Incorrigible children. Indeed, I was expecting something far more savage. On the other hand, appearances can be deceiving.” He regarded them slowly and methodically, one after another. “How fascinating it is to finally meet you. Come, you—all three of you—you must sit at my table for dessert. You cannot refuse; you are without question the most interesting guests at this party, and I intend to get to know you much, much better.”

Cassiopeia clutched Penelope's hand tightly. “No Lumawoo?” she asked tremulously. Judge Quinzy looked at Penelope as if he were seeing her for the first time, although of course she had been standing there all along.

“Who's this, then? The governess?” There was a sudden edge to his voice. “Can't she speak?”

Maytag was quite beside himself with chuckling. “Ha! Perhaps Ashton got it all wrong! Perhaps she's the
one they found howling in the woods!”

Penelope felt her cheeks flush. If only this fancy gray dress had a nice loose pocket in front for her poetry book! It would have been a comfort to have close by, but even the thought of it was enough to remind her what to do.

“I am Miss Penelope Lumley,” she said boldly, with the full force of her education behind her. “I am a graduate of the Swanburne Academy for Poor Bright Females, currently employed as governess here at Ashton Place.” Then she looked Judge Quinzy straight in the eye, exactly as if they were equals, for she was a Swanburne girl after all. “It would be our pleasure to consent to join you for dessert.”

The twitching in Lady Constance's eye had increased dramatically during this exchange. Now she covered the eye with one hand and excused herself by saying, “Pardon me, I do think a cinder may have flown into my eye—I shall return momentarily—do not forget the petites madeleines!—Margaret, Margaret, oh, will someone ring for my lady's maid, please—?” Then, like a bird with one broken wing, she spun in half-blind circles until someone assisted her to the door.

Judge Quinzy hardly acknowledged Lady Constance's comical exit; his attention was fixed on
Penelope. “Swanburne Academy, eh? I don't believe I've heard of that school; you must tell me all about it. But from the obvious high quality of its graduates—the one I've met so far, at least—I would wager that it's a very worthy institution, very worthy indeed.”

This odd compliment made Penelope uncomfortable, although she was not sure why. Then Judge Quinzy offered her his arm, just as he might to one of the fine ladies at the party. What else could she do but take it?

Still holding Cassiopeia's hand tightly with her free hand, Penelope allowed the judge to lead her to his table, with Alexander and Beowulf following close behind. She was careful to keep her gaze straight ahead as they walked. If there happened to be any mocking smiles on the faces of the society ladies as she was paraded across the room on the arm of a judge, it was none of her concern, thank you very much!

Still, though she was too proud to look to see if she were right, she had the unmistakable feeling that every eye in the room was upon her—and upon the children, too.

T
HE
T
HIRTEENTH
C
HAPTER
Alas, the party does not go precisely as planned
.

I
N
M
ISS
P
ENELOPE
L
UMLEY
'
S DAY
it was often said that the mark of a good servant was to do his or her job with brisk efficiency while at the same time remaining “invisible.” You may take this as another example of hyperbole, for in Miss Penelope Lumley's day servants did not actually have the power to become invisible, although it certainly would be interesting if they had. (Some years later, a Mr. H. G. Wells would write a definitive book on the subject of invisibility, which is well worth reading. However, under no circumstances
are you to repeat the experiments he describes except under the strictest adult supervision.)

Nevertheless, in the very same room and during the same interval of time in which the events of the previous chapter were taking place (that is, the dinner guests entering the ballroom, Hoover and Maytag chatting with the children, Lady Constance's overwound entrance, the odd conversation with Judge Quinzy, and so forth), the servants had been busily (one may even say “invisibly”) setting out heaping platters of petites madeleines on the linen-draped tables that ringed the dance floor. Trays of colorful fruit tarts and sweet puddings dusted with a fairy-frost of sugar had also appeared, along with steaming pots of fragrant tea.

Judge Quinzy led Penelope and the children to his table and pulled out a chair. Penelope almost sat down in the one next to it before she realized that he was holding the chair out for her. Alexander, Beowulf, and Cassiopeia sat across from her, along with the Earl of Maytag, Baron Hoover, and a woman whom Penelope quickly identified as the baroness due to the way she scowled at the baron. (Baroness Hoover's nose, Penelope could not help noticing, was as long and sharp as her husband's was broad and bulbous; she thought it would be amusing to imagine them switched, as if
they were detachable accessories of the sort one might nowadays see on, say, a vacuum cleaner.)

All counted that made eight at the table; there were still two empty chairs. From across the room Penelope spotted Lady Constance tottering her way back toward them. Even from a distance she looked woefully unsteady. Clearly the stress of Lord Fredrick's absence was wearing on her; for everyone's sake Penelope hoped the tenth chair did not remain vacant much longer.

The men sprang to their feet as Lady Constance approached. “How is your dear little eye, my lady?” asked the Earl of Maytag. “Did you find that wicked cinder? Has the intruder been removed?” Indeed, one of Lady Constance's eyes was now quite red and puffy from being rubbed; the other seemed glazed in the manner of a person who has overindulged in champagne or some similar beverage.

“Thank you for your conshern, shir. There was no shinder; I just sheem to have developed a shilly old twitch.” No sooner did she say “twitch” than her eye demonstrated. “I have taken a few ships of a—
hic!
—medishinal cordial that should shoothe the shpasm, shoon enough.”

It was obvious that Lady Constance was making
every effort to maintain her dignity, not to mention her balance, but when the Earl of Maytag attempted to push her chair in, she slid off and landed underneath the table with a thud. The men fished her out, but the episode prompted a fit of giggling, which continued until tears streamed down the poor lady's face. In the end she had to put her head down on her dessert dish to recover under the privacy of a large linen napkin, which she pulled over her head like a blanket. The occasional hiccup soon gave way to a soft snore.

The children observed Lady Constance with fascination. In other circumstances Penelope would have pointed out how, finally, here was a perfect example of irony at work: Lady Constance had haughtily predicted that the Incorrigibles would act like wild animals at the party, but it turned out that she was the one whose behavior left something to be desired. However, Penelope could not think of a way to bring up the subject that would not be awkward; with regret she let the moment pass.

In fact, none of the adults knew quite what to say. The table was at serious risk of suffering that social calamity known as the “awkward silence.” Luckily, the children had been well trained in the art of party conversation.

“Merry Christmas!” said Alexander to Baroness Hoover. “I do not believe we have been introduced.”

“Lovely weather,” Beowulf added, carefully selecting a little shell-shaped cake from the tray.

Cassiopeia grabbed one as well and shoved it gleefully in her mouth. “Condolences,” she said as an afterthought, but through all the crumbs and chewing, no one could understand her, which was just as well.

“Swallow before conversing, dear,” Penelope reminded gently.

Lady Constance let out another snore, which everyone politely ignored. With the precision of a chemist, Baroness Hoover dropped three cubes of sugar into her tea. “So these are the infamous wolf children. You are fortunate”—
plop!
—“that the Ashtons”—
plop!
—“have taken you in. Most wretched waifs”—
plop!
—“in your circumstances would be sent away—
Ouch!
Percy, beloved, why are you kicking me? Have you mistaken me for a chair leg?”

“Apologies, dear heart, but honestly—‘wretched waifs'? It's not a nice thing to say at Christmas.”

“I am merely being frank. I don't believe in sugarcoating things for the young. That is how I was raised, and I turned out perfectly well.” She sipped her tea and smiled wanly at Penelope. “I imagine you must be
extremely disappointed in your position, Miss Lumley. You were hired to be a governess, but this is a job more fit for a zookeeper, is it not?”

All eyes turned to Penelope. She did not want to repeat her mistake of bragging about the children's accomplishments, yet she could not let Baroness Hoover's mean remark go unanswered. “I was fortunate to receive a rigorous and well-rounded education,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I hope to impart the same to my students.”

“And I might hope to grow wings and fly, but that is no guarantee of it happening!” The Baroness laughed and slurped her tea.

Judge Quinzy adjusted his glasses higher on his nose. “Perhaps you are underestimating Miss Lumley's pupils, baroness. A dog can easily be taught a few tricks. Why not these three?” He watched the children carefully. “Tell me, have you studied any foreign languages yet? French? Italian? German?”

At the word “German,” Alexander sat up straight.
“Wanderlust!”
he exclaimed passionately, and then grabbed a petite madeleine as his reward. One of Judge Quinzy's eyebrows arched so high, Penelope was afraid it might come loose. The Earl of Maytag was less impressed.

“Fine. He said
wanderlust,
so what? If I say
gesundheit
when someone sneezes, it hardly means I speak German,” Maytag retorted.

“It's a bit much to quiz them on languages, Quinzy,” Hoover added. “Ashton said when he found them they could barely speak at all. Not even English, ha!”

“English easy,” Beowulf announced. “I write poem in English.” He stood up as if ready to recite.

Judge Quinzy held up a hand in alarm. “Sit down, young man. Composing English poetry is hardly something to brag about. We'll have none of that.”

Hoover snorted. “You're a funny fellow, Quinzy! But you have a point. Poetry and Latin, those were my most dreaded subjects at school.”

The three Incorrigibles glanced at one another and exchanged secret smiles. Penelope bit her lip. What were they up to now?

Before answering, Alexander wiped the crumbs from his chin with a napkin, just as Penelope had taught him. “Latin, yes!
Cogito, ergo sum
. ‘I think, therefore I am.'”

Beowulf was already grinning and bouncing up and down for his turn. “
Veni, vedi, vici,
” he declared. “‘I came, I saw, I conquered.'”

Hoover pounded the table and chortled, while Maytag and the baroness exchanged skeptical looks. Judge
Quinzy's eyes grew impossibly large behind his thick lenses. “Is this your doing, governess?” he murmured in a low voice. Then he turned to Cassiopeia. “Now I shall not be satisfied until I hear what you have to say. Do you speak Latin, too, like your littermates here?” He fixed the girl with a nonthreatening half smile, but his eyes looked deadly serious.

Penelope remembered the way Cassiopeia snarled at Lady Constance the previous evening and felt a flash of fear. Put on the spot like this, what would Cassiopeia do? Would she growl? Bark? Bite him in the leg?

In a clear, strong voice, Cassiopeia pronounced, “
Vado, Pluvia!
”

There was a moment of confusion at the table.

“‘Vado, Pluvia'
?”

“It is Latin, I'll grant you that. But what does it mean?”

“Vado
is ‘go,' but
Pluvia
? Isn't that rain?”

Penelope quickly covered her mouth with her hand to conceal a smile. “I believe she intends to say, ‘Go, Rainbow,'” she explained. To Cassiopeia, she added, “Next time, try
pluvius arcus,
dear; the meaning is clearer.” Cassiopeia, wide-eyed and innocent, merely shrugged and ate another cake.

Lady Constance chose this moment to regain
consciousness and peeked out from under her napkin. “Oh, it's shtill the party! I was dreaming we were in church, and everyone was shinging Latin hymns.” She reached for a sweet and found herself staring at Cassiopeia, who was merely trying to pass the plate. “Not fair, not fair—it's
my
party and all anyone wants to talk about is these awful, awful children. The little one almost bit me yeshterday, you know,” she remarked to no one in particular. “They are all unshtable, but I believe she is the most vicious of the three.”

As if in answer, the room suddenly filled with a low, whining snarl, which gradually slid higher in pitch. Penelope saw each member of the table react to the noise in his or her own fashion: Cassiopeia bared her upper teeth, and the boys grew alert and bright-eyed, ready to spring. Maytag had a look of eager excitement on his face, Hoover seemed alarmed, his wife disgusted. Only Judge Quinzy remained neutral—which is to say, whatever he was thinking, he did not let it show.

The snarl grew louder and began to run up and down the scale, until it resembled the sound of a violin being tuned.

“Hooray, hooray, the musicians are here!” Lady Constance exclaimed, launching herself precariously to her feet. “Let us all shtand for the shah-teesh!”

L
ADY
C
ONSTANCE WAS CORRECT
, and if you have ever had the misfortunate of hearing a violinist tuning, you will understand the momentary confusion. At this cue from the musicians, all the guests rose from their tables and arranged themselves in two long lines in the center of the dance floor, men on one side, women on the other.

Penelope did the same, but in her mind it was as if her thoughts were already dancing; they kept pairing up and running off and then coming back again in new combinations, never holding still long enough for her to make sense of them. Everything was a muddle! For weeks she had toiled to get the children in tip-top shape for the party (and what a stroke of luck it was that they had spent the morning playing with Alexander's new Latin primer!). Yet it seemed Lord Fredrick had promised his friends a trio of fur-covered wolf children who did nothing but bark and howl. And the Earl of Maytag's awful remark about hunting still gnawed at her insides.

“Surely it is all some sort of dark and unfunny joke,” Penelope thought, as she took her place in the line of dancers. It was the only logical explanation; she must have misunderstood the true meaning of the
conversation, for she was not used to grown men jesting with one another in such a free and sportive way. After all, the teachers at Swanburne were all women, and Dr. Westminster was known for his exceptionally gentle speech; it was said he could soothe a colicky calf merely by singing “God Save the Queen” in his pleasingly low and cowlike voice.

There was a bit of difficulty in the formation of the line, for Lady Constance was dependent on Baron Hoover and the Earl of Maytag to hold her upright; without their support she quickly ended up on all fours. This predicament was made worse for Hoover when Maytag abruptly abandoned ship and seized Penelope as his partner. Beowulf and Cassiopeia made a light-footed pair, but Judge Quinzy declined to dance at all, saying, “At my age I much prefer being a spectator. I will take a walk in the air to refresh myself while you young people enjoy these revels.”

“Schottische?” Alexander asked Baroness Hoover, gallantly offering his arm. After a pitying glance at her husband, she accepted.

Soon all the guests had taken partners, and the musicians struck up the tune. As she began to move, Penelope realized that Margaret and Jasper had been right: When it came to dancing, music made all the
difference. She found it a sweet relief to skip merrily around the room and let go of her nagging suspicion that something nefarious was going on. How foolish it was to worry and assume the worst—it was Christmas, after all!