Dark Mirror (4 page)

With Jamie safe, the crowd’s attention locked on Tory, who had just provided shocking evidence that she was tainted by magical ability.

“Disgraceful!” Miss Riddle, the aging heiress to a mining fortune, gave an audible sniff, turned away sharply, and stalked toward the house. She had just given the cut direct, a gesture that proclaimed Tory invisible. Beneath contempt.

Beyond redemption.

Miss Riddle’s action was like a breaking dam. A hissing chorus of comments filled the air. “Who would have imagined…?”

“A Mansfield! How dreadful for her family.”

“Shocking! Simply shocking. There must be bad blood there.”

As Tory watched, agonized, her parents’ guests turned away, presenting her with an implacable wall of retreating backs. Friends and neighbors, grown men, dowagers, children—all rejected her. Some faces showed regret, but they still turned away.

With a single act, she had been transformed from “one of us” to “one of
them.
”

The Reverend Fisk, Louisa’s father, held her gaze for a long moment. Tory spent so much time at the vicarage that the Fisks called her their second daughter.

His lips tightened to a thin line, and Tory knew she’d been judged and condemned. “I never suspected you had bad blood,” he said coldly before he pivoted and walked away. Mrs. Fisk did the same, though her expression was sad.

Desperately, Tory looked for Louisa. Surely her best friend wouldn’t reject her!

Louisa stood next to Frederick Mason, shock and revulsion distorting her pretty face. “Tory, how
could
you!”

No, not Louisa, too! As her friend took Mr. Mason’s arm and fled, Tory cried out, her voice breaking, “Please, Louisa! I’m no different now than I was yesterday! I didn’t ask to be like this!”

Louisa didn’t look back.

Edmund Harford looked appalled and repulsed, though there was a hint of regret in his eyes. Then he spun on his heel and marched away, leaving only Tory’s family.

Lord Roger and Sarah stared at each other, not Tory. His expression was anguished. Weeping, Sarah reached toward him uncertainly. Slowly he took her hand, but as they walked toward the house together, their heads were bowed with misery.

Worst of all, Tory’s parents watched with devastation in their eyes. Tory sensed that her mother was also afraid. Frightened for Tory? Or did she fear Tory would reveal that her mother was a mage?

Her father approached with heavy steps. Tall and aristocratic, he had been born to authority, but now he’d aged two decades in as many minutes. “You must go to Lackland Abbey. I hope they can cure you quickly and reduce the damage to our family name,” he said brusquely. “Be ready to leave first thing in the morning.” Back erect, he took his wife’s arm and led the way back to the house.

Only her brother and his wife were left, Jamie secure in his mother’s arms. Geoffrey rose and pulled Tory into a hug. She burrowed into him, unable to control her tears. “Geoff, what will I do? Everyone despises me!”

“I don’t,” he said in a choked voice. “I’ll never forget what you’ve sacrificed to save my son, Tory. You will always be welcome in my home.”

“Always,” Cecilia echoed as she got to her feet. “If Lord Fairmount is … difficult, you may come to us when you leave Lackland.” Her shaky smile showed gratitude and full awareness of Tory’s plight. “Now I must get Jamie inside and warm him up.”

Geoffrey wrapped a powerful arm around his wife and son. “You’re a heroine, Tory. I … I hope that’s some comfort.”

Her brother and his small family walked away. Jamie peered over his mother’s shoulder. His tearstained face brightened as he waved good-bye before subsiding back into Cecilia’s arms.

Tory was alone on the cliff. Shaking, she turned to the sea. The gray-green waves were as familiar as her own heartbeat. Would anyone mourn if she walked off this cliff? She was a mageling, an embarrassment to her family and friends. Everything would be so much simpler if she was gone.

So much simpler …

Appalled at her thoughts, she swore an oath that would have shocked her parents. Bedamned to them all! She couldn’t help the way she was born. She would not give those who rejected her the satisfaction of destroying herself.

Lady Victoria Mansfield would go to Lackland Abbey and learn to control her magic. She would be home and cured before anyone missed her. She’d be so beautiful and charming that heirs to dukedoms would
beg
for her hand in marriage.

And if the Dishonorable Edmund Harford tried to apologize and make up for treating her so shabbily, she’d … she’d
kick
him.

CHAPTER 4

Tory slept like the dead after returning to her room, awaking in early evening. Despair flooded through her as aching muscles and joints reminded her that the rescue and the ghastly aftermath weren’t just a horrible dream.

Usually the fete would still be in progress at this hour, but today the gardens were empty except for a few servants cleaning up. The events of the afternoon had cast a pall on the festivities. She opened her door and glanced into the corridor. Was there a guard to prevent her from running away?

No guard. Her father must have known she wouldn’t try to escape because she had nowhere to run. She had considered all her family and friends before grimly accepting that even her doting godmother wouldn’t take her in. She was an outcast, and she’d starve if she ran away from home.

Tory drifted about her bedroom, fingertips skimming furniture and draperies as if their solid reality could hold her in place. She pulled out drawers, touching small treasures like the first peacock feather she’d ever found and the cameo pin from her godmother and the sparkly nugget of raw gold a friend of her father’s had given her.

The Mansfields had lived at Fairmount for centuries. Family legend said that ancestors had owned this land even before the Normans invaded more than seven centuries earlier. The ruins of the ancient Mansfield castle were now a favorite picnic spot. Belonging at Fairmount was as much a part of Tory as her bones.

Yet now, because her mother had brought tainted blood to her marriage, Tory would be exiled from her home. Fury and hatred scorched through her but quickly faded to ashes. It was impossible to really hate her mother.

Countesses usually left their children to servants, but Lady Fairmount would come to the nursery and play games and read stories. She had taught Tory how to run a household and manage servants and pour tea gracefully. Louisa had been envious because her own mother had never had as much time for her.

Tory couldn’t bear to think about Louisa.

She realized tears were streaming down her face. She folded into a ball in the middle of the carpet and wrapped her arms around her knees as she rocked back and forth. It wasn’t
fair
that she was being punished for doing the right thing!

Eventually she ran out of tears and was left in a state of gray exhaustion. In this house her father ruled, and he had decreed that she was to be sent away. She climbed wearily to her feet. She must pack for school, but her brain was too tired to think about what she should take.

A list. She would make a list.

Her father came to her room while she was deciding what she’d need. Lord Fairmount wore the grim expression of a hanging judge. “I’ll have a servant bring down a trunk, Victoria. Mr. Retter and his wife will escort you to Lackland Abbey. The carriage will be ready directly after breakfast.”

“You’re sending me with your steward?” she asked bitterly. “You won’t even take me into exile yourself?”

“It will reduce the scandal if I go about my usual duties.”

She doubted that. Her actions would be a seven days’ wonder in the county. People would cluck their tongues and say how sad it was that the Mansfields had a mageling daughter while secretly glad to see the wealthiest family in the area brought low. Her father being at home wouldn’t change that. He just didn’t want to be with her.

She blinked furiously, determined not to cry. “Does it mean nothing that my wicked magic saved the life of your only grandson? A future Earl of Fairmount?”

“Of course that matters.” He scowled. “Losing Jamie would have devastated us all. But that doesn’t change the fact that you revealed yourself as a mage in the most public of circumstances. Our whole family has been shamed.”

His expression made her feel ill. Though he was usually busy and distant, she’d always thought he was fond of her. But she was only a daughter, and one who had caused a public scandal for the Mansfield family. He would never forgive her for that. “So I am to be thrown out like an old rag,” she said, her voice breaking. “The sooner I’m forgotten, the better.”

“You will not be forgotten, Victoria,” the earl said uncomfortably. “The purpose of Lackland Abbey is to cure young people of their affliction. If you work hard and do well, you can come home. Though you won’t make the brilliant match you might have had, very likely you can marry a man of the middling sort and have a decent life.”

He thought that marrying “a man of the middling sort” was acceptable for his youngest child? Anger overcoming sadness, she snapped, “Will you allow your guests to see me, or will I be hidden in the attic like a mad aunt?”

His mouth hardened and he left without replying. She closed her eyes, fighting more tears. Her powerful father, one of the great men of England, was too cowardly to speak to his own daughter.

A few minutes later, a footman brought her trunk from the attic. The brassbound box was small to contain a whole life.

She had just packed
Controlling Magic
when her mother arrived wearing a black mourning gown. “Oh, Victoria, I’m so sorry! If there was any way I could save you from Lackland, I would do it.”

She caught Tory’s hands as if she could physically prevent her daughter from leaving. “My brave, brave girl! What you did took more courage than I’ve shown in my whole life. I … I’ll miss you dreadfully.”

Tory tugged her hands from her mother’s clasp. “Did you even try to persuade Papa to let me stay?”

“Yes.” Her mother sighed. “He wouldn’t hear of it. On a matter that concerns the family’s reputation and honor, he is immovable.”

Though Tory knew her mother couldn’t overrule the earl, she still felt betrayed. A countess should be able to do
something.
“Today I realized that the weather is always good for the fete, Mama,” she said crossly. “Has that just been good luck?”

Her mother glanced away. “What an odd question. Your father would never hire a weather mage for an entertainment.”

Which was not an answer. Though her mother wouldn’t admit it, Tory was sure the countess had shaped the weather for all these years.
And she’d got away with it!
Tory used magic
once
to save a child’s life, and she was exiled. “Weather magic is a very useful power. I wonder how it is done?”

Lady Fairmount’s gaze whipped back to her daughter. “You know you mustn’t think of such things, Victoria! Magic is alluring—that’s why it’s dangerous. It seduces people away from proper behavior. At Lackland Abbey, they will teach you how to suppress your power. Concentrate on learning that so you can come home again.”

Tory’s anger with her mother died away, overwhelmed by her misery. “I want nothing more, Mama.”

The countess’s expression softened and she gathered Tory into her arms for a hug that said more than the tense words they’d exchanged. “Good night, my darling girl,” she whispered. “If you need anything, write to me. I’ll send it immediately.”

Tory wished the embrace would never end, but finally her mother drew away. Blinking hard, she took hold of the doorknob.

Tory asked, “Is Papa blaming you for my magic? Wondering if you have power since it usually runs in families and no Mansfield has ever been a mage?”

The countess froze. “He has not asked. He does not wish to know.” Then she left the room soundlessly.

Tory wondered how many families had questions that weren’t asked and truths that weren’t spoken. Her mother had lied about her abilities her whole life.

At least Tory wouldn’t have to lie. Everyone already knew what was wrong with her. Perhaps, in the long run, she would be luckier than her mother, who had hidden such a great, destructive secret her whole life. Her fear had made her timid.

As she glared at the door, Tory made a private vow. She wouldn’t be a liar, and she wouldn’t be a coward. Though she had been cursed with this wretched magic, in her own way she would live with honor.

As Tory turned back to her trunk, her maid, Molly, entered and asked, “Do you need help with packing, miss?”

Tory nodded gratefully. “I’m having trouble thinking what I’ll need.”

“Nothing too fancy. Sensible clothes that you can put on without a maid to help.”

Molly opened the upper section of the clothespress and began choosing garments. “Pack your warmest things. Lackland Abbey is right on the English Channel, so there’s a cold wind from the North Sea.”

“How do you know so much about the school?” Tory asked.

“My cousin was in service to a family whose son was sent there.” Molly pulled two pairs of sensible shoes and a pair of half boots from the wardrobe.