The Marvelous Magic of Miss Mabel (13 page)

By the time Mabel tiptoed into the great hall and slipped into the seat Ruby had been saving for her, the whole school was already assembled. “Mabel, where were you?” Ruby whispered.

“Couldn't get away from mean, old Nanny,” Mabel panted. “She will definitely be getting some cat-calming brew tonight. Has anyone noticed I'm late?”

“No. The teachers are all in a flap over this special visitor. I do know it's a witch,” Ruby whispered, “because she has a broomstick parked outside with letters carved on it.
SOFTW
—whatever that means.”

“I think we're about to find out,” Mabel murmured, as Miss Brewer walked onto the stage, accompanied by Miss Seymour and a tall witch in black robes, with bangs of frizzy red hair showing from under her hat.

“Silence,” Miss Brewer barked, although there was no need for such a statement because the girls had already quieted down. “I have always believed in the sort of magical education we offer our students here at Ruthersfield,” Miss Brewer began. She glanced over at Miss Seymour and her jaw tightened. “But it has been brought to my attention recently that as we move toward a new century, it is time for us to re-examine the place witchcraft will take in this changing world.” Mabel felt a thrill of anticipation race through her. She didn't know what was coming, but words like “change” and “re-examine” were full of promise. “So would you please give a warm welcome to Miss Angelina Tate, who is here to talk about the possibility, and I do stress
possibility
,” Miss Brewer said, staring straight at Mabel, “of introducing a science program into our school curriculum.”

Mabel clapped as hard as she could. “This is so
exciting, Ruby. And what a beautiful name Miss Tate has. Angelina,” Mabel murmured, running the syllables over her tongue. “That is almost as lovely as Magnolia.”

Winifred turned around. “You haven't even heard what she has to say yet, Mabel.” The way Winifred pronounced “Mabel” made it sound even uglier and plainer than usual. “And why would a witch want to learn science anyway?” Winifred fanned herself with her hand. “It is so hot in here I feel quite faint.” Leaning toward Florence, she whispered, “I wouldn't wish that color hair on anyone. It's as orange as carrots.”

“Keep quiet, Winifred, and stop being mean,” Mabel hissed, as the orange-haired lady began to speak.

“It is a great honor to visit with you here today. I am a Ruthersfield alumna myself.” There was another round of clapping, and Angelina Tate held up her hand. “This is the age of science, girls. All around us new inventions are being created. The world is changing fast, and it is important for magic to change along with it.”

“Oh, yes!” Mabel breathed, grabbing Ruby's arm.

“Until recently we have relied on the same spells that our ancestors used. Traditional spells passed down from generation to generation that will always have a place in society. But now is the time to dare to push boundaries and fly against the wind. To experiment
with our magic and see where such new thinking leads us.” Miss Tate paused a moment before saying, “So with the help of Miss Seymour, the Society of Forward-Thinking Witches is going to sponsor a competition here at Ruthersfield.”

“A competition,” Mabel whispered in excitement.

“If I may interrupt one moment,” Miss Brewer said, stamping her cane for silence. “Any girl who chooses to enter will follow strict competition guidelines.” Once again Miss Brewer's eyes were on Mabel. “Miss Tate has written a simple guide to spell construction with basic templates you can follow. There is a dictionary of ingredients in the back, and she has listed combinations of things that do and do not work well together.”

“Chocolate liver!” someone whispered, setting off a ripple of laughter.

“We want you girls to come up with your own inventions,” Miss Tate continued. “A new spell that will make the running of a household a little easier.”

“Perhaps you could give the girls some examples?” Miss Seymour broke in.

“Of course.” Angelina Tate smiled. “We just ran this competition at L'École Sorcellerie, the renowned school of witchcraft in Paris. The students entered some wonderful inventions—magic slippers that run errands for you, a cake that bakes without an oven
while you sing to it, buttons that do up by themselves.” Miss Seymour started clapping, and the girls followed her lead, until Miss Tate held up her hand again. “Most important of all, we want you girls to use your minds, get your hands dirty. Embrace the world of science.”

“I'm not getting my hands dirty,” Winifred said. “I always wear gloves when I mix up my spells. And why would we want to create new spells?” she said, sounding anxious. “The ones we have are perfectly good.”

“Won't your father expect you to enter, Winifred,” Florence said, “being on the board of governors?”

“I'm sure he will,” Winifred sighed, wrapping a hair ribbon round her finger.

“My papa will certainly complain to Miss Brewer,” Florence whispered. “He thinks we're far too modern here at Ruthersfield as it is. If he had his way, I'd be home embroidering samplers with Mother all day long.”

“I think it's wonderful,” Ruby said. “Don't you, Mabel?”

“I do,” Mabel agreed, waving her hand in the air.

“Why do you always have to be so keen, Mabel?” Winifred muttered.

Miss Brewer peered in Mabel's direction. “What a surprise. You have a question, Mabel Ratcliff?”

The hall had gone quiet, and Mabel gulped down her nerves. “I—I just wondered,” Mabel began, wiping
her sweaty hands on her pinafore. “I wondered why our inventions had to be only for the household? Could we invent other things too, Miss Tate?”

“Such as?” Miss Tate said, stepping to the front of the stage.

“Well, I'd love to invent a broomstick that would fly to the moon,” Mabel began, startled at the laughter that broke out. “Or shrinking buildings that fit in your pocket so you could move them wherever you wanted.” As she sat down quickly, Mabel's chair scraped along the floor.

“Interesting ideas,” Miss Tate said, “but right now those areas of science are not ones that women have much experience with. Hopefully in the future this will change.”

Mabel wished she hadn't said anything, because Winifred was whispering in Florence's ear, and Florence was bent over, giggling behind her hands.

For the rest of day, every time Winifred walked past Mabel, she made a whooshing noise, sending
Diana and Florence into spasms of laughter. When the last bell rang at the end of embroidery class, Mabel's curiosity finally got the better of her, and she asked the girls what was so funny.

“That's the noise my invisible broomstick makes when it flies to the moon,” Winifred said, causing Diana and Florence to collapse into fresh giggles.

“Ignore them,” Ruby said, pulling Mabel into the corridor before she could retaliate. “You can't risk getting sent to Miss Brewer's office again. Winifred's just being mean because she knows you're going to invent something better than she is.”

The girls were hunting for their cats in the great hall when Miss Seymour swept by. She stopped in front of them for a moment. “I loved what you said to Miss Tate this morning, Mabel. It's good to have dreams to follow. Don't lose that passion.”

Mabel looked surprised. She blinked at Miss Seymour from behind her thick lenses. “I won't, I promise. And I'm so excited by the competition, Miss Seymour.”

“I'm sure you are, but don't get too carried away, Mabel. Overambitiousness is what gets you into trouble. There's nothing wrong with a simple invention. You've got plenty of time to construct that rocket broomstick!” With a warm smile at the girls, she flew on.

“You're Miss Seymour's special pet, aren't you, Mabel?” Winifred said smoothly, stepping out of the shadows.

“Oh, keep quiet,” Mabel muttered, resisting the urge to give Winifred a hard push.

“Well, we all know Winifred won't be entering the
competition,” Ruby said. “She doesn't like to get her hands dirty.”

“No, I have far more important things to concern myself with. Like a new dress fitting for a beautiful pale blue satin gown Mama has ordered for me.” Winifred gave her curls a toss. “We're having a house party this weekend, and I'm going to be allowed to stay up for the dance.” She practiced batting her eyelashes. “Mama says I can tell fortunes if I wish. We have some special houseguests coming to stay. Lord and Lady Gofry from Fandlemarsh and some old friends of Mama's from Melton Bay.”

“How thrilling,” Mabel said, noticing the way her skin always started itching whenever Melton Bay was mentioned.

T
HE WHOLE WAY HOME MABEL
thought about inventions. If thin, slow-growing hair was something a lot of woman suffered from and didn't talk about, then maybe a magic hair potion would be a great invention to enter in the competition, assuming she could make it work. And assuming she could convince Daisy to let her experiment again. It wasn't exactly a household gadget, but it would certainly make a lady's life much pleasanter. The instant Miss Seymour had handed out the spell construction guides, Mabel had looked up dried phoenix flames in the index. She was fascinated (and a little horrified) to discover that when mixed
with a cold ingredient, like a blast of north wind, polar bear breath, or
Icelandic dwarf beard
, the color changed and the heat source was activated. Which was why, Mabel realized, Daisy's hair had been so warm. And pink! And all that hot air had made it puff up. Well, at least now she knew, although it would have been nice to have such information before she began experimenting.

As soon as Mabel got home that afternoon, she raced to the greenhouse, but her mother wasn't there. Mabel found her in the drawing room, scribbling notes and reading about cross-pollination. “Mama, there's a competition at school,” she burst out. “We get to make our own inventions, and I have to tell you all about it!”

“My goodness! That does sound exciting.” Nora closed her book and smiled. “Then we must have tea together.”

“Really, Mama?” Mabel could hear Nanny's shoes clomping down the stairs. “You won't change your mind? You promise.”

Nanny Grimshaw appeared in the doorway. “Hello, Nanny,” Nora said. “Are you looking for Mabel?”

“Indeed I am,” Nanny replied with a brisk smile. “Come along, Mabel. You shouldn't be disturbing your mother like this.”

“Oh, she's not disturbing me one bit,” Nora said. “We're about to have tea.”

“But,
mam, Mabel has her embroidery to do, and a pair of stockings to darn.”

“That can all wait,” Nora said, much to Mabel's relief. “Why don't you have a nice cup of tea in the kitchen with Daisy and a read of the newspaper, Nanny?”

“I don't approve of newspapers,” Nanny said tartly. “And I will take my tea in the garden.” With a sharp nod at Nora, she stalked out of the room.

“I'll tell Daisy,” Mabel offered, wanting an excuse to go to the kitchen.

“Good thing I made a seedcake,” Daisy said when she heard, dabbing a handkerchief over her cheeks. Beads of sweat glistened on her flushed skin, and she looked awfully hot beneath her bonnet. It was an old wool one that covered her whole head, but ever since the hair disaster Daisy had refused to take it off.

“You're the best, Daisy,” Mabel said, giving her a hug.

“Sucking up to me doesn't mean I've completely forgiven you, Miss Mabel,” Daisy remarked rather tartly. And Mabel decided that perhaps this was not the best time to suggest trying out another hair experiment.

“Mama says we can have our tea in the drawing room,” Mabel said, tipping a couple of drops of cat-calming potion into the single cup on the small tray. “This is going out to Nanny, isn't it?” she asked, as
Daisy placed a milk jug and a slice of cake on the tray.

“Why are you so interested?” Daisy said suspiciously.

“I just want to make sure Nanny enjoys her tea, that's all.”