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“She doesn’t look at all sleepy,” Ann laments.
I spy Mademoiselle LeFarge getting up from her chair.
“Keep the wolves at bay,” I say, rising as well.
I catch our teacher in the library, where she searches for a book among the many on the shelves.
“Bonsoir, Mademoiselle LeFarge,” I manage to say. “Er, comment allez-vous?”
She corrects my pronunciation without looking up. “Como tallay-voo.”
“Yes, I shall make more of an effort.”
“I should be happy, Miss Doyle, if you would make an effort at all.”
I smile like a buffoon. “Yes. Quite right.” Our little talk has gotten off to a grand start. Perhaps I could mangle another language or insult her dress or, heaven forbid, sing. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?”
“It’s raining,” she notes.
“Yes, so it is. But we need rain, yes? It makes the flowers grow so nicely and…”
Mademoiselle LeFarge’s knowing stare stops me. “Out with it, then. What is it you really want, Miss Doyle?”
I see that betrothal to Inspector Kent has sharpened LeFarge’s own skills of detection.
“I thought perhaps you might take us to this exhibition.”
I unfold the slip of paper for the exhibition at the Egyptian Hall and hand it to her. She brings it to the lamp. “A magic-lantern show? Tomorrow afternoon!”
“It promises to be extraordinary! And I know how dearly you love this sort of spectacle!”
“That I do….” With a sigh, she folds the paper. “But it is hardly edifying.”
“Oh, but—”
“I’m afraid the answer is no, Miss Doyle. In another month’s time, you’ll be in London for your season and may go to see whatever you wish. And I should think your time might be better spent perfecting your curtsy. After all, you will face your sovereign. It is the most important moment of your life.”
“I hope not,” I mutter.
She gives me a kind smile along with the advert, and I curse my luck. How will we get to the Egyptian Hall and Dr. Van Ripple now?
I could make her do what I want. No, that’s horrible. But how else will we find Dr. Van Ripple? Right, only this once and never again.
“Dear Mademoiselle LeFarge,” I say, taking her hands.
“Miss Doyle? What—”
She is silenced by magic.
“You want to take Felicity, Ann, and me to the Egyptian Hall tomorrow afternoon. You’re desperate to take us. It will be…edifying. I promise,” I intone.
There’s a knock, and I break the contact with LeFarge just in time to see Miss McCleethy at the door.
“Gemma, you should be in bed,” Miss McCleethy says.
“Y-yes, I was j-just going,” I stammer. My hands shake. The magic has been stirred inside me now, and it wants out. I try desperately to keep it under control.
Mademoiselle LeFarge brandishes the leaflet above her head like a letter from a beloved suitor. “Isn’t this marvelous? A magic-lantern show at the Egyptian Hall tomorrow. I shall ask Mrs. Nightwing’s permission to take the girls. It promises to be most edifying.”
