AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Do you have a middle name?" Ann asks. "That might help. More letters."
"That won't do any good," Felicity says too quickly.
"Why not?" Ann asks.
"Because it won't." Felicity blushes. It's not like Felicity to blush over anything at all.
"Very well, then. You can be known henceforth as City Worth Gin If Lento," I say, enjoying her predicament very much.
"If you must know, my middle name is Mildrade." Felicity turns back to her piece of paper as if she hasn't been saddled with possibly the worst middle name in history.
Ann wrinkles her nose. "Mildrade? What sort of name is that?"
"It is an old family name." Fee sniffs. "It can be traced all the way back to the Saxons."
"Oh," Ann says.
"Lovely," I say, trying desperately to keep the sides of my mouth from twitching.
Felicity buries her head in her hands."Oh, it is awful, isn't it? I simply loathe it." There is nothing polite to say to this."Not at all." I can't resist saying it aloud."Mildrade."
Felicity narrows her eyes."Dog Mealy Em."
This could go on all evening. "Truce?"
She nods."Truce."
Ann has begun to cut out the letters of Felicity's name so that they are like small squares that can be moved about on the desk until they form some semblance of a reasonable name. It is tedious work, and within a minute I am staring at the letters but thinking of what I'd like to have for supper. Felicity pronounces the task impossible and throws herself on the chaise to read more from Miss Wyatt's secret societies. Only Ann is determined to decipher the code of Felicity's name. She concentrates fiercely, moving letters left and right.
"Aha!" she cries at last.
"Let me see!" Felicity throws the book aside and rushes to the desk. I join them. Ann gestures proudly to the desktop, where the uneven squares have formed a new name, which Felicity reads aloud.
"Maleficent Oddity Ralingworth. Oh, how perfect."
"Yes," I say."Evil and odd."
"Dog Mealy Em," Fee snaps back.
I shall have to work on my name. On one corner of the paper, Ann has scribbled Mrs. Thomas Doyle several times, trying out a signature she will never own, and I am ashamed that I've crossed her off Tom's list before she's ever had a chance. I will remedy that. Ann's staring at a name.
"What is it?" I ask.
"I'm trying Miss McCleethy's name," she says.
Felicity and I crowd her."What have you got?"
Ann shows us her work. Claire McCleethy Let Her Claim Ccy I'm Clear Celt Hey C Ye Thrice Calm Cel The Mai Cire Leccy
Felicity laughs. "These certainly make no sense. Let Her Claim Ccy? Mal Cire?"
"Cire is a type of fabric. Mal means bad," Ann answers proudly.
I'm still looking at the page. There's something oddly familiar about it, something that makes the hair stand up at the back of my neck.
Ann pulls another C down. It makes Circe. "Try the whole name." I say.
Once again, Ann writes out the name and cuts the letters into small squares that can be moved about. She tries several combinations--Circe Lamcleethy, Circe the Lamcley, Circe the Mal Cley, Circe the Ye Call M.
