“Well, they are old-fashioned, but really, Mother hates floating.” Faith was still in shock. There’re here. Why are they here? Mother hates London. It’s full of monsters.
“Oh, heavens!” Faith collapsed back onto her bed. “Do they expect to stay here, too? Is there room for them? And if not, will I have to go with them to a hotel?”
“Why, Faith, you’re trembling. Of course you must remain with us regardless. You will stay here with us! You’re proper family.”
“But… appearances.”
“Hang appearances! I’m sure Mums will make the offer, but it would be very cramped quarters if they accepted. You’re already in Charlie’s room, so Cyril and Colin would have to double up. They hate doing that.”
“My parents can afford to stay somewhere else.” Faith was upset on her host’s behalf. “Trust me, Teddy dear, you don’t want them here.”
Teddy nodded, glumly. “I told Mums they were perfectly horrid to you. I thought Mums understood what that meant. But you know how absentminded she gets. And she never takes me seriously. She’ll invite them to stay. We can only pray your parents understand the limits of this household and decline on the basis of convenience.”
“Agreed,” said Faith.
Teddy eyed the door. “Should we go down, do you think?”
“I suppose it would look strange if I didn’t. They’re my parents, after all. Save yourself, Teddy, and stay up here.”
“I should never let you go into battle alone!” Teddy was fierce.
Faith pressed her cousin’s hand. “You are a dear and loyal friend.”
So it was that Faith and Teddy marched down the grand staircase together. Faith clutched Teddy’s burly little arm for support. Teddy wore a militant look upon her round face. Faith looked calm and collected, only the dampness of her grip betraying her weakness.
It’s silly, really. It’s not as if I didn’t live with them for twenty-four years. But for the last few months, in London, Faith had felt both free and safe. It was the best she had ever felt. The Iftercasts had given her a home for the very first time in her life, a true sanctuary. Now, knowing it was possible to find family a comforting environment, the very idea of returning to the withered bosom of her former life seemed not only unfair but cruel.
Fortunately, Faith’s parents still did not want her. But they did want to see what she was up to.
They had taken rooms in the Beaumont Hotel, and there was no space for Faith there.
“We hope you don’t consider us officious, imposing our wayward daughter upon you a little longer? Only until this engagement, at which you hinted, comes to fruition.”
Mrs Iftercast blanched and looked desperately at Faith. Faith shook her head slightly. By all means, let my parents think I have the protection of a pack along with a prospective husband.
“Speaking of which, Faith, where’s your maid?”
It was such an entirely unexpected inquiry, and such sudden focused attention from her mother, that Faith started. “Minnie?”
“Why, do you suddenly have some other maid?”
“She’s not here.”
“Not here. What do mean, not here? Have you misplaced her? Are you going around London randomly scattering maids to the four corners?”
“No. She’s on loan to my seamstress.”
“What?” Mrs Wigglesworth went positively purple about the face. “Why on earth?”
“Minnie is handy with her needle, and my need for dresses outweighed my need for her assistance at home.”
“Well, that explains the appalling state of your hair.”
Faith touched her coiffure, a perfectly innocuous twist pinned to her crown with a few curls arranged down one side. Nothing offensive or particularly special about it.
Mrs Wigglesworth persisted. “Where is this wayward maid, exactly? Give me the address of your modiste. I’ll go retrieve her immediately.”
Faith blinked, surprised. Never had her mother taken much interest in Minnie. A daughter’s maid, once safely situated, was beneath Mrs Wigglesworth’s notice. They were not at odds, not even after Faith’s disgrace. Minnie had never been blamed. Faith supposed, if she thought on it at all, she would have said her mother utterly indifferent to Minnie’s very existence. Why the attention now?
Before Faith could protest or make excuses or anything else in an effort to protect poor Minnie, Mrs Iftercast, in a desperate move at mollification, gave Faith’s mother Mrs Honeybun’s address.
Faith could only hope Minnie was able to hold out.
Faith had, truth be told, been anticipating a conversation regarding termination of services. Minnie seemed far better suited to Mrs Honeybun’s employ. The shop had grown popular amongst the more daring set of sporting young ladies. After the original Miss Wigglesworth, favored intimate of Lord Falmouth, was known to acquire all her dresses there, the orders fairly floated in.
Minnie loved it. Faith was happy to see her so pleasantly situated. There were far more opportunities for a girl in such a skilled position than there were as a lady’s maid. It would be nice if one of them got what they wanted out of London.
Mrs Wigglesworth, address in hand and apparently satisfied, returned her attention to the matter of Faith’s position. “So, this engagement?”
Mrs Iftercast said in an effort at diversion, “There is a reception of some note at the National Gallery this evening. Would you like to attend? Many of London’s celebrated supernatural luminaries will be there. You know, vampires and werewolves. Art events are considered neutral ground.”
Mrs Wigglesworth pursed her lips. “Sounds awful.”
Mrs Iftercast blanched. “Oh, but if you wish to see Faith’s…”
“I suppose, if we must.”
“You go,” said Mr Wigglesworth. “I’ve business to conduct while we’re here.”
His wife looked even more sour than usual at being thrown to the wolves. “Oh, but—”
Faith braced herself, prepared for her mother’s temper to make an appearance.
“Very important business, my dear. Remember?” Only that tone in her father’s voice could quell her mother’s wrath. Faith winced. What were her parents up to?
She simpered. “Oh, yes, Hubert dear. I remember.”
Accordingly, it was with a heavy heart for all concerned, even the Iftercasts, who were beginning to understand how lucky they were to have received Faith (and not one of the other Wigglesworths) into their happy home, that they set out for the gallery that evening. The party was composed of Mrs Iftercast and her daughter accompanying Mrs Wigglesworth and her daughter. The gentlemen, to a man, had bowed out.
Channing had no good reason for being at the National Gallery that night, but he was grateful for it, in the end. He was not surprised when Faith entered the gathering along with the Iftercast ladies. If anything, he was delighted, although he did not let that show in word or deed.
There was one other female with them – an older, sour-faced rabbity woman with beady eyes. Much to his shock, instead of playing any kind of game, Faith led this new female directly towards him.
Ulric was standing next to him. “Who’s that with our little Faith?” He was already sounding protective. As if she were pack.
“Another American,” snorted Channing.
“How do you know? Have you met her before?”
“No, but would you look at her? Americans always gesture the biggest and walk the slowest.”
“Our little Faith is not like that.”
“Stop calling her that.”
“You would prefer I said your little Faith?”
“Hush, Ulric, they’re approaching.”
Faith had desperate eyes.
Channing instantly wanted to do anything to make that look go away. He made a small bow to her and the strange female, as did Ulric.
“Gentlemen, allow me to make my mother known to you? Mother, this is Major Channing and Mr Ditmarsh, of the London Werewolf Pack.”
The female gave them both a highly offensive once-over. Her narrowed eyes seemed to judge them lower than dirt.
My lovely, bright girl came from this creature?