Dark Mirror (6 page)

Miss Wheaton left, moving so quietly she probably wouldn’t leave footprints in mud. The headmistress said sternly, “Don’t waste time thinking about your former life, Miss Mansfield. Your future depends on how hard you are willing to work at being cured of your vile abilities.”

Another knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Mrs. Grice called again.

This time a young girl entered the office. With her slight build and flaxen hair spilling about her shoulders, she looked like a child, but her huge, pale green eyes were not young.

“Miss Campbell will show you around the school, then take you to your room.” The headmistress pursed her lips. “There is only one empty bed available, so you must share Miss Stanton’s room. Work hard, Miss Mansfield, and Lackland Abbey will serve you well.” She looked down at her papers.

Silently, Tory followed her guide from the room. Her prison sentence had begun.

CHAPTER 6

In the passage outside the headmistress’s office, Tory’s guide turned right, away from the front entrance. The other girl was shorter than Tory, who was not tall. As they fell into step together, Tory asked, “Do you work here, Miss Campbell?”

“No, I’m a student also,” the other girl replied. “We usually use Christian names here. I’m Elspeth.”

“My name is Victoria, but I’m called Tory.” After half a dozen steps, she asked hesitantly, “What did you do to get sent here?”

“We don’t talk about such things.” Elspeth gestured toward the pamphlet Tory carried. “That tells you the official rules, but new students are always given a tour by an older student who can explain the unofficial rules.” Her fleeting smile was visible more in her eyes than her face. “I’m often called on because I’m a useful bad example.”

“Why is that?”

“The average stay at Lackland is about three years. I’ve been here for five.”

Five years? That was forever! “What did Miss Wheaton do to me? It was
awful.
”

“The school governors claim magic doesn’t work at Lackland, but that’s not quite true,” the other girl said. “People with very strong power usually retain some magic, so Miss Wheaton blocks that. You must have a great deal of ability to feel it so much.”

Tory bit her lip, not wanting to believe she had strong power. “Since I now have no magic, am I cured? Can I go home?”

Elspeth shook her head. “You’re not cured. If you left the abbey grounds, most of your power would return immediately, and Miss Wheaton’s suppression spell would fade very soon after that.”

Puzzled, Tory said, “She must be very powerful to be able to suppress students when the abbey grounds block most magic.”

“She has a way of resisting the dampening effect Lackland has on everyone else,” Elspeth explained. “She needs that to evaluate students and teach magical control.”

“Is there a male teacher like her on the boys’ side?”

Elspeth nodded as she swung open the oak door at the end of the passage. “Yes, Mr. Stephens. He and Miss Wheaton were both Lackland students. They chose to stay and help cure others. Very noble of them.” There was unmistakable sarcasm in her voice.

They stepped outside into a cloister garden. Roofed walkways ran around all four sides of the courtyard so students could stroll protected on rainy days. “This is the heart of the girls’ school,” Elspeth said. “The boys’ school is a mirror image.”

Tory studied the ancient, weathered stone walls. Bright beds of blooming flowers and a softly singing fountain in the center of the courtyard made a lovely, serene garden.

Yet every student in this school was here against her will. All were trapped and frantically trying to find a way out. The knowledge increased her feeling of suffocation. “How do you stand it here?” she burst out. “I arrived less than an hour ago, and already I am desperate to leave.”

Elspeth sighed. “One can learn to endure almost anything. Even Lackland.” She pointed to her left. “Classrooms are on that side and our living quarters are on the right. Teachers have separate rooms in another building. The section opposite has student public rooms like the dining hall and library and kitchens.”

“What subjects are taught besides magical control?” Tory asked as they stepped into the garden.

“There are different academic courses, depending on how well educated a girl is when she arrives here.” Elspeth’s eyes glinted. “You’ll also be evaluated for ladylike ‘accomplishments,’ like music and drawing and embroidery.”

“Anything that makes a girl more marriageable is useful,” Tory agreed. “Especially since having magic makes us less desirable.”

“Marriage is not the only possible path for a woman,” Elspeth said calmly.

Tory stared, so shocked she didn’t know how to respond. Marriage was the goal of all normal women, though it wasn’t always achieved.

Of course, Elspeth wasn’t normal. Most people would say Tory wasn’t normal, either. “Why have you been here so long?”

“You want to know so you can avoid my failings?” Elspeth asked with another fleeting smile.

“Exactly,” Tory said, not smiling.

“Mrs. Grice would say I’m uncooperative.” Elspeth’s pale green eyes narrowed like a cat’s. “She is right. But they can’t keep me here when I reach twenty-one. Lackland isn’t a prison. Not quite.”

Giggles echoed from above, followed by projectiles hurtling downward. Tory jumped backward. “Look out!”

Swiftly, Elspeth raised one hand. The objects were deflected and crashed into the lawn a yard away. They proved to be half a dozen eggs, now smashed to messy bits.

Tory had never seen magic in action, and she found it unnerving. No wonder everyone at the Fairmount fete had been so perturbed by what she’d done. “Why is someone throwing eggs at us?”

“Don’t worry, the eggs weren’t aimed at you,” the other girl said, unperturbed. “I’m not popular in some quarters.”

“So you protected us with magic.” Tory wondered if she would have been able to do the same. She would need to …

No!
She mustn’t think about such things. “You must be a very powerful mage to use magic here in the abbey.”

“I am.” Elspeth trailed her fingers in the water as she walked by the fountain. “My power is reduced here, but it’s strong enough to deal with flying eggs.”

“Might someone do something worse to you?”

“They wouldn’t dare.” Elspeth resumed her walk across the garden.

Tory decided she didn’t want to make an enemy of Elspeth. “Why are you disliked by some of the students?”

“Because I like magic. Perhaps they fear my liking will rub off and they’ll start liking their magic, too.” Elspeth led them into an open passageway that cut through the building opposite. “That tower on the other side of the school is our chapel. Every morning we must attend services so we can pray for the cure of our magical afflictions.”

A daily service in a cold, drafty chapel was not appealing. “Do prayers help?”

“Not that I know of,” Elspeth replied. “Lackland students fall into three categories. The majority want nothing more than to be cured as fast as possible so they can go home, so they obey the rules and don’t cause trouble. A few are so furious at being sent here that they lash out in all directions.”

“And throw eggs. What is the third group?”

“People like me who embrace our powers despite all the pressure to give it up.” Elspeth gestured toward the right side of the passage. “Since this is an abbey, the dining room in there is called a refectory. The food isn’t usually dreadful.”

“Faint praise.” Tory thought wistfully of the skilled chef back at Fairmount Hall. They stepped into the gardens behind the school. “How pretty,” she said as they started along a herringboned brick path that led between formal flower beds.

“Orchards and vegetable gardens are on the right, beyond the ornamental gardens.” Elspeth pointed. “To the left is the boys’ school. On the other side of the stone wall with iron spikes on top.”

The wall was perhaps a dozen feet high and the spikes had wicked points. Still, if Tory’s magic worked here, she could float right over the top.…

She immediately stamped on the thought. “How successful are the schools at keeping males and females separate?”

“Not as successful as they like to think.” Elspeth turned onto a path that led along the spiked wall. This close, Tory could see that the divider was actually a heavy stone lattice. The boys’ school was clearly visible through the square, hand-sized holes.

Elspeth halted and stretched a bit to peer through an opening. “Naturally students on both sides talk whenever they get the chance.”

Tory looked through an opening at her eye level and saw that a playing field was on the other side and a game of football was in progress. The players ranged from boys of eleven or twelve to full-grown young men. Half wore red ribbons tied on one arm, the other half wore blue. “If the official policy is to keep males and females apart, why don’t they brick up these holes?”

The other girl laughed. “One of the charming oddities of Lackland is that this wall has some ancient magic that makes bricks fall out of the holes if anyone tries to close them. The magic interferes with all forms of blocking as well as making it almost impossible to tear the wall down.”

“So boys and girls meet and flirt.” Tory pursed her lips and estimated the thickness of the stone. “The wall is too thick to allow kissing, but fingers can touch. Notes can be passed.”

“The wall is very romantic.” Elspeth’s voice was ironic. “On the other side are attractive members of the opposite sex who share the curse of unwanted magic. So near, yet impossible to do more than a fleeting touch of the fingers! Courtships aren’t uncommon, with students marrying once they’re released from Lackland.”

Tory glanced up, thinking the spikes weren’t that great a barrier. “The viewing holes would make it easy to climb over the wall. They’re rather like a ladder.”

“Ah, but the wall magic includes an invisible veil of power that causes excruciating pain if someone tries to climb over,” Elspeth said. “Or so I’m told.”

“That sounds much more discouraging than spikes.” Tory’s gaze returned to her viewing hole. Her attention was caught by a tall young man with dark hair and a quick, athletic figure. She felt a strange flicker inside, rather like the flutter she felt when trying to float. “When students leave, do they go back to their old lives?”

“No one ever leaves the same as when they came.” Elspeth’s soft words sounded like an epitaph.

“Change is probably inevitable,” Tory said with reluctance. “But what happens to most students after they’re cured and leave Lackland?”

“Most find a place lower in a social order than the one they were born to. Boys go into some profession like the army or navy, or perhaps they study law or become vicars. Girls look for the best husband who will have them. It isn’t uncommon to marry a well-off merchant who wants to be connected to an aristocratic family. If they can’t find husbands and their families cast them off, usually they become governesses.”

Though Tory liked learning, she had no desire to spend her life as a governess. “What about those who embrace their power, as you do?”

“We become mages and are disinherited by our families,” Elspeth said dryly. “Some move to the colonies, where magic is more acceptable.”

“What do you hope to do?”

“Go somewhere far from here,” Elspeth said with even more dryness.

Thinking it was time to change the subject, Tory watched as the dark-haired young man raced down the field, expertly controlling the ball as he headed toward the goal. “Who is the tall fellow with the ball?”

“That’s Allarde.” Amusement sounded in Elspeth’s voice. “You have a good eye. He’s the Marquis of Allarde and a second cousin of mine. As the only son of the Duke of Westover, he’s the most eligible male at Lackland.”

“I thought students don’t use titles.”

“Not usually, but there are exceptions.” Elspeth turned and continued on to a footpath that led away into a pasture scattered with sheep and ancient, half-ruined outbuildings.

Tory was happy to move away from the stone heaviness of the abbey. Though walls enclosed the grounds on both sides, this green openness was a pleasant change from the school. She felt even better when she heard the cries of gulls and realized they were near the sea.

A five-minute walk brought them to a cliff high above the English Channel. The port of Dover was only a few miles south, and Lackland shared the famous white chalk cliffs that Dover was known for. Tory inhaled the tangy air. “This is like my home. I grew up with the cliffs and the sea.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Elspeth’s flaxen hair whipped behind her in the stiff breeze. “We’re right on the Straits of Dover, the narrowest part of the channel.” She pointed. “See that dark line? It’s the French coast. Strange to think that Napoleon’s armies are so near. It’s the sea that keeps Britain safe.”

Tory shivered, and not only because of the brisk wind. France looked so
close.
She found it uncomfortably easy to imagine regiments of French troops lined up on the other side, armed and eager to cross the channel. “Knowing how close we are to France makes the war seem much more real than it did at home.”