AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes, I know,” I said. “Oh, there’s James.” Most of the students were already on their way out, so there were only a few left to wonder why I was talking to an empty niche in the wall. “Hello, James!”
“Good day, Miss Gwyneth.” As always, he was wearing a flowered tail-coat, knee breeches, and cream stockings. He had brocade shoes with silver buckles on his feet, and his cravat was so elaborately arranged that he couldn’t possibly have tied it for himself. The oddest things about him were his curly wig, the powder on his face, and the patches like moles that he had stuck to it. For some reason that I couldn’t understand, he called them beauty spots. Without all that, and in sensible clothes, James would probably have been quite good-looking.
“Where were you this morning, James? We had a date to meet at second break, remember?”
James shook his head. “How I hate this fever! And I don’t like the dream, either—everything here is so … so ugly!” He sighed heavily and pointed to the ceiling. “I wonder what philistines painted over the frescos? My father paid a fortune for them. I like the shepherdess in the middle very much, even if my mother says she’s too scantily clad.” He looked disapprovingly first at me and then at Lesley, his eyes resting for a long time on the pleated skirts of our school uniform and then our knees. “Although if my mother knew the way young persons dress in my fevered dream, she’d be horrified. I’m horrified myself. I would never have thought I could indulge in such a depraved fantasy.”
James didn’t seem to be having a particularly good day. At least Xemerius had decided to stay at home (James hated Xemerius). To keep an eye on the treasure and Mr. Bernard, or so he said, but I secretly suspected he wanted to look over Aunt Maddy’s shoulder again while she was reading. She was halfway through a romantic novel at the moment, and he seemed to be enjoying it.
“Depraved! What a charming compliment, James,” I said mildly. I had long ago given up explaining to James that he was not dreaming, but had been dead for about two hundred and thirty years. I suppose no one likes to hear such news.
“Dr. Barrow bled me again just now, and I was even able to drink a few sips of water,” he went on. “I had hoped for a different dream this time, but alas, here I am again.”
“And I’m very glad to see you,” I said warmly. “I’d miss you very much if you went right away.”
James managed a smile. “Well, I’d be lying if I were to deny that I’ve developed a certain affection for you, Miss Gwyneth. And now, shall we go on with our lessons in etiquette?”
“I’m afraid there isn’t time, but let’s go on tomorrow, okay?” On the stairs I turned back. “Oh, by the way, James, what was the name of your favorite horse in September of the year 1782?”
Two boys pushing a table with an overhead projector on it along the corridor stopped, and Lesley giggled when they both asked, at the same time, “Do you mean me?”
“September last year?” asked James. “Hector, of course. Hector will always be my favorite horse. The most magnificent gray you can imagine.”
“And what’s your favorite food?”
The boys with the overhead projector looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. James himself frowned. “What sort of question is that? I have absolutely no appetite just now.”
“Never mind. That can wait till tomorrow too. Good-bye, James.”
“I’m Finley, you daft cow,” said one of the projector pushers, and the other grinned and said, “And my name’s Adam, but hey, I don’t mind! You’re welcome to call me James if you like.”
I ignored them both and linked arms with Lesley.
“What was all that about?” she asked on the way downstairs.
“When I meet James at that ball, I want to warn him against catching smallpox,” I explained. “He was only twenty-one. Too young to die, don’t you agree?”
“I’m not sure that you ought to meddle with that kind of thing,” said Lesley. “You know what I mean—fate, predestination, and so on.”
“But there must be some reason why he’s still haunting this building. Maybe I’m predestined to help him.”
“Why exactly do you have to go to this ball?” Lesley inquired.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Apparently Count Saint-Germain said I had to in those nutty Annals. So he can get to know me better, or something.”
Lesley raised her eyebrows. “Or something?”
I sighed. “Whatever. Anyway, the ball is held in September 1782, but James didn’t catch smallpox until 1783. If I can manage to warn him, he might be able to go into the country, for instance, when the epidemic breaks out. Or at least keep away from Lord Thingy’s house, where he caught it. Why are you grinning like that?”
“You’re going to say you come from the future, and you know he’s soon going to be infected with smallpox, and by way of proof, you’ll tell him the name of his favorite horse?”
“Er … well, I haven’t quite worked out all the details of the plan yet.”
“Vaccination would be better,” said Lesley, pushing the door to the school yard open. “But that wouldn’t be easy to fix either.”
“No. What is easy to fix these days?” I said, and groaned. “Oh, damn it!” Charlotte was standing beside the limousine waiting to take me to the Guardians’ HQ, where I went every day now. And that could mean only one thing: I was to undergo more torture by minuets, the right way to curtsey, and the date of the Siege of Gibraltar. Useful knowledge for someone going to a ball in 1782, or at least the Guardians thought so.
Oddly enough, that left me cold today, or almost. Maybe because I was too excited by the thought of my next meeting with Gideon.
