Page 53 of A Rare Find

Wolves didn’t answer to girls’ names. But all at once, she knew what they would answer to. Of course. It should have occurred to her before.

A tickle built in her chest, a laugh, but not exactly a laugh. She tipped up her chin, opened her mouth, and howled. It echoed back from the hills. Georgie looked bemused.

“You don’t have to howl on my account,” they told her. “Just because I like it.”

She howled again, louder.

The answering howl was so thin and faint that, at first, she couldn’t distinguish it from the echo of her own. But another howl sounded, and another. And then she saw two small figures detach from the long shadow at the base of the castle tower.

“Oh,” said Georgie, looking impressed. “Well done.”

“I’m going to kill them,” she vowed, but once she’d reunited with her sweaty, rumpled little sisters, both frisking through the heather and yipping excitedly, the remnants of her fear and anger dissipated in a rush of endearments. Her mood darkened, though, on the walk down to the village.

She didn’t blame Hilda and Matilda—what was the point? But to have come all this way, only to be sent immediately home again—it was a cruel disappointment.

Georgie seemed to sense her thoughts.

“There’s still tonight,” they said, consolingly, hoisting Matilda higher on their back. “We can talk to the Barrow Prince at dinner.”

“You can talk.” Such dinners for her were always a trial. She wouldn’t manage a word.

“I will focus on cajolery.” Georgie stopped to reel Hilda out of the gorse. “You will furnish the details.”

Why press the issue when they knew it brought her pain? Would a friend do such a thing?

“I won’t furnish any details.” Elfreda stopped too.

“Why not?” They seemed perplexed.

“Because I get tongue-tied in groups. I lose my capacity for speech. Completely.” She frowned. “Don’t pretend you’re unaware.”

“I’m aware that you’re reserved in company. Too fastidious for drawing room conversation. Icy enough to freeze the tea if anyone persists in a pleasantry.” Georgie’s voice changed. “Oh.”

“You didn’t know.” Unbelievable. “You thought I was silent out of contempt and self-consequence.” Maybe social agony wasn’t so easy to distinguish from unbearable haughtiness. Mortified, she clutched Hilda’s hand and started walking again, picking her way through the gorse.

“I’m not fastidious in drawing rooms,” she said at last, without turning to Georgie, who’d come up on her left. “I’m not there. People look at me, and I become a hum. Everything goes out of my head but a kind of humming.”

“You become a hum.” Georgie repeated it slowly.

Instantly, she regretted her confession. She shouldn’t have revealed even more.

“All right, then,” they said. “Leave it all to me.”

She glanced over. They gave her an easy grin and hoisted Matilda with a bouncing step that made her squeal. “The Barrow Prince will pledge to you his shovel before the waiter serves the chops. Trust me.” They winked. “I won’t let you down.”

—

By eight that evening, the waiter had served the chops, and Georgie was well on their way to letting Elf down. Thus far, the Barrow Prince had ignored them. He sat by Mr. Marsden, chewing gristly mouthfuls of meat with expressionless resolve. The princely chap, on the other hand, kept up an amiable stream of chatter. His name was, ridiculously, Nicholas Fluff, and he seemed a very good sort. The other fellow, Simon Sykes, seemed less so. He was recently back from Egypt and his talk was all mummies, dozens of which he’d brought to London.

“Visit, and I’ll unwrap one for you,” he said to Georgie, a loathsome proposition uttered in a tone so unsavory, and so salacious, it put them off their meal.

Elf sat between her father and Sir Graham with downcast eyes, moving peas around her plate. The dining room was loud and crowded, a mix of holidaymakers and villagers. A dog barked incessantly. Should they start yelling about the Great Heathen Army?

“Bloody dogs everywhere!” Sykes thumped back his chair, scowling. “Under the table, even.”

Fluff bent over and looked.

“They just want affection,” he said, placidly, as he straightened. “And sweets.”