“You have done this before, wolf child?” Madame Spetuna’s eyes were sharp on Sidheag’s face.
Sidheag nodded.
“Then what I tell you will be no different. You know your fate and you cannot escape it. Why do you dally here pretending to be tame?”
Sidheag nodded and stood to resume her seat. Her curtsy was perfunctory, but the fortune-teller did not take offense. It was almost as if she knew Sidheag’s curtsies were always perfunctory.
Finally Madame Spetuna gestured to Sophronia.
Sophronia went eagerly.
Madame Spetuna looked her up and down. She said, “The palm, I think, for you.”
Sophronia offered both hands.
The fortune-teller seized them by the wrists. Her touch was soft and dry, and she smelled of exotic spices Sophronia could not place.
“Even now, you think only in terms of the game. You are well chosen, little bird. Or are you a stoat?” Madame Spetuna bent forward, looking even harder at Sophronia’s palms. She was close enough for Sophronia to feel the woman’s breath on her skin. “Give your heart wisely.” She paused a long time over one particular wrinkle. “Oh, child, you will end the world as we know it.” Madame Spetuna swallowed and then turned Sophronia’s hands over and placed them, palm down, on the table. She leaned forward, pressing them into the tablecloth as though she might rub out what she had seen.
It was an admirable performance. Sophronia thought she ought to applaud. Everyone was silent in awe. Sophronia looked over at Felix. He was making a face.
Then Monique giggled. “Stoat, of course Sophronia’s a stoat.”
Mademoiselle Geraldine recovered her composure. “What a very odd fortune, Miss Temminnick. What game could she possibly be referring to?”
“Oh, Headmistress, we have been playing loo these last few nights. Perhaps it is that?” Sophronia lied easily.
Mademoiselle Geraldine looked relieved. “Oh, yes, indeed. Now, which of the gentlemen would like to go next?”
Sophronia stood, reached into her reticule, and passed the fortune-teller a shilling and the note. Since handling and exchanging money was always an embarrassment, everyone made a point of not really watching the gratuity.
Sophronia pretended to get her skirt caught in the chair as she rose. In a flurry of long sleeves she bent and almost tipped Madame Spetuna’s teacup over. Under cover of this, the fortune-teller opened and read the note.
By the time Sophronia had sorted herself, and the chair, out—Mademoiselle Geraldine reprimanding her for such unladylike clumsiness—the note had vanished, and Madame Spetuna was giving Sophronia a funny look.
Sophronia arched one eyebrow. She’d been practicing that expression for days; it was a very intelligencer sort of skill, and she felt she ought to know how to do it. Her eyebrow twitched slightly and didn’t arch gracefully, but it got her point across.
The fortune-teller nodded, almost imperceptibly.
Pillover assumed the seat. “It’s all nonsense, of course.”
Madame Spetuna used the cards on him. “You are greater than the sum of your parts,” she said.
Pillover looked doubtfully down at his tubby form. Sophronia wondered at a woman dressed in scarves quoting Aristotle.
Madame Spetuna continued. “And you will never make your father happy. Stop trying.”
Pillover drooped.
Lord Dingleproops was next. “What a lark!”
“Wager to win, my lord, not to lose.”
“That’s all you have to say to me?”
“Wager any more and you could learn nothing at all.”
“You speak in riddles. Come on, Felix, saddle up.”
Felix assumed the seat, lounging back as was his insolent manner. His posture always gave the impression of not caring. About anything.
“You will not repeat your father’s mistakes. You will make new ones, all your own.”
“Very meaningful, Madame Spetuna. Of course, you might suspect any young man of being somewhat at odds with his father.” Felix’s eyes were narrowed.
Madame Spetuna only looked at him and adjusted the red-and-gold shawl around her shoulders.
The young viscount slouched over to take a seat opposite Sophronia and next to Monique. He ought have talked to Monique, but instead he said to Sophronia, “Occult nonsense.”
Sophronia blinked at him, her green eyes very direct. “Well, are you, my lord?”
“Am I what?”
“At odds with your father?”
“Is that interest I see at last, Ria, my dove?” Felix smiled and turned to talk with Monique.
Sophronia was left in possession of the field but also feeling as though she had lost something.
Mademoiselle Geraldine, meanwhile, was urging Professor Shrimpdittle to have his fortune told. The good professor looked as if he would rather not, but the headmistress’s assets were clearly irresistible. He took the seat.
The fortune-teller grabbed his hand and said, “You have troubles at school? Your headmaster, he does not value your contribution? This trip, it is to get you away, to keep you from becoming important.”
Professor Shrimpdittle was agitated. “How do you know?”
“The spirits do not lie.”
“There are no spirits, not that science has proven. Ghosts, of course, but not spirits.”
“And yet, you fear I speak truth.”
Professor Shrimpdittle, attuned to the interest of his own students, fell silent. But the seed of suspicion had been planted.
Sophronia palmed three shillings, ready to complete her end of the bargain.
Madame Spetuna was about to say more when a knock on the door interrupted her.
“Who could that possibly be?” wondered Mademoiselle Geraldine. “Everyone knows I am in an important session.”
“Come in,” yelled the headmistress.
Vieve poked her head in. “Sorry to disturb, Mademoiselle Geraldine, but I heard… oh, yes! Bully! A fortune- teller! May I have mine done, please?”
“Oh, I don’t think we have the time—”
Professor Shrimpdittle delicately interrupted the headmistress by rising to his feet. “By all means, let the child take my place.”
“If you don’t mind, Professor?”
Vieve trotted over and sat, little legs dangling.
The fortune-teller looked the scamp over and then looked at her palms briefly. “You are too young, as yet, to be fully formed. I can tell you only one thing. You are doomed to be lucky in matters of the head and unlucky in matters of the heart.”
Vieve grinned. “That’s good enough for me. I’d rather the first over the second.”
The fortune-teller shook her head sadly. “Which only proves how very young you are. And now, I am fatigued. Mademoiselle Geraldine, if I might beg to rest before the next session?”
“Of course, my boudoir is just there. Please, avail yourself of the amenities.”
