Chapter Five
Wasted time…
King’s Square~
Hermione was almost enjoying dinner until she made the mistake of standing up after the elves had cleared the table of the miniature sugar-paste Hogwarts after dessert. Cicely stared at her in inquiry, so Hermione made the pretense of reaching for another macaroon across the table, dipped it into the chocolate-flavored liqueur, and smiled abashedly at her uncle, Cicely and Aunt Bones. The elf bowed to Hermione, indicating if she wanted any more macaroons. Hermione shook her head, and all the tasses à glaces disappeared, to be replaced by goblets of wine and sherry and snuff boxes. Aunt Bones then stood up. The ladies and the ladies only, followed her to the music room.
The harp and the white piano there played by themselves, and when the gentlemen joined them, the Stroulgers danced, Mrs Lufkin laughingly accepted Mr McGonagall, and Lord Whithers pulled Aunt Bones”or Summoned her to his side, it looked like it, because Aunt Bones rapped him a good one on the forehead with her ivory fan.
“Hermione, I need to get your uncle alone subsequently, so I could modify his memory. He had a disagreement with your father, and that is the reason why he was surprised you were here; I suppose they had not yet heard of your disappearance, or perhaps your brother’s letter concerning it had not arrived yet. This regular correspondence between your uncle and his nephew is what I am anxious about; I don’t want to be talked of between them, your uncle might””
Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, yes, I understand. You’d want to tell Leontes your secrets yourself. I will detain my uncle so that he would be last to leave, and then you can modify his memory.” Though she had no idea what she could detain him about. He seemed a very intelligent man, and not at all intimidated by these wizards of superior rank and consequence. This endeared him to the company.
“My mother insists on throwing a pre-birth party for my child,” Mrs Lufkin had said at dinner, rolling her green eyes. “We will send you an invitation, Mr McGonagall. Bring your family, and we will make sure we smuggle your daughter and Lord Whithers’s granddaughter from Hogwarts for the evening as well.”
And true to McGonagall dignity, he had smiled and bowed and only expressed hope the girls would be advised beforehand to finish all their homework early.
“Pardon me, but I have to get this out, Lord Whithers knows I speak my mind. But you seem to have none of the country’s predominant feeling of…keeping to their ranks and class in society?”
“Oh, I know what you’re implying, my dear doctor. Don’t get too complacent, I regret to admit that there are some of us who follow this segregation code in more ways than one””
Mrs Lufkin was interrupted by a laugh from Lady Sanguina.
“It is stupid, it not, Artemisia? What does blood matter? They all taste the same.”
Mrs Lufkin didn’t dignify this with a reply or even a look. Lady Sanguina scowled. “But, I find the Muggles are right in their own prejudice. Disparity between classes is always felt acutely. I was in one of the filthier parts of town this morning, and the haphazard houses there made me laugh, crumbling they were””
“”And would be a perfect haunt for the likes of you? Iridisca, you had better tell Artemius about this,” Mrs Lufkin said, drinking some sherry and smiling at Lady Sanguina’s bared fangs.
Mr McGonagall cleared his throat. “I beg to note that ‘the filthier part of town’ is not the residents’ fault, my lady. They are neglected by the throne and the ministers at the moment. My daughter Juno has told us in one of her letters that they at school are thinking of having their own paper, and my daughter plans to write an essay about Muggle-London’s current state.”
Lady Sanguina thought it wiser not to retort at the approving nods this statement produced, and just cut her rare venison rather violently.
In her own way, Hermione was proud of Professor McGonagall’s Muggle ancestor, and she almost regretted not being truly a niece of his. She steeled herself to help Cicely do what was needed to be done.
Hermione used the loo, however, and everything flew out of her mind when a silver otter whooshed through one of the cinquefoils in the wall.
Red Lion Square~
Hermione had to resort to magically refreshing her eyes the next morning so that Aunt Athena and Leontes would have nothing to question her on. She hardly slept thinking about Hermione Rashleigh and the blasted portrait that had yet to appear. After sending the Patronus to tell her other self that she was also in London with Leontes, she had sneaked onto the parlor and only discovered landscapes and horses among Leontes’s brought pictures.
“Miss?” Lily asked, poking her head through the door. She was Aunt Athena’s maid, although she also attended to the patients: of which there were currently four in the ward, two of them children. “Breakfast is ready; Mrs McGonagall and Mr Rashleigh are waiting for you in the parlour. The doctor has arrived as well. I’ll help you with your gown.”
“No”no, thank you, Lily. Please tell my aunt and my brother that I’m coming down in a moment. I’m just…shaking off sleep.”
Lily smiled at her, nodded and departed, leaving Hermione free to use her wand further on herself. She was swathed in lace and caged in her whalebone in a moment. Yesterday’s dinner and high tea had been easy. She wondered about breakfast as she descended the stairs.
When she entered the breakfast parlour, she gasped. Mr Prentice and Mrs Kettleburn and several wigged men were there, along with some young people that were undoubtedly children to the adults. Leontes was conversing with a prim gentleman with black hair; he was the only male in the party not wearing a wig for even Leontes has covered his own brown locks.
“Well!” the man said, catching sight of her. He and Leontes walked toward her and Hermione was given a one-armed slight squeeze around the shoulders. “Have you done shaking off sleep?”
Who is this person? Hermione swallowed her anxiety and just smiled and greeted them, “Good morning.”
She was saved from further comment (to her and by her) when Aunt Athena entered the room, still in white, leading a procession of half a dozen servants aside from Lily.
Hermione was steered by Leontes and the black-haired man to the mahogany sideboard. There, to Hermione’s astonishment, was a buffet of oatmeal with sweet cream, smoked herrings, sardines with mustard sauce, grilled trout with white butter sauce, cold veal pies, grilled kidneys, sausages with mashed potatoes, beef tongue with hot horseradish sauce, kippers and enough bacon to feed a hungry army. There were three kinds of fresh bread and four kinds of rolls, with a choice of spreads including butter, honey, orange marmalade, and jams made from raspberries, cherries and apples found in a three-tiered dumbwaiter standing not far off. French and Spanish brandies, fresh apple cider, tea and coffee were in a pier cabinet.
Hermione was served some of some and then she sat on the mahogany table in the center of the room, where another servant stood, waiting to be of service by refilling plates and bringing cups and goblets. The chatter was to a minimum (though Hermione had soon gathered that the man she doesn’t recognize was her uncle, Dr McGonagall) and none were addressed to Hermione except for Mrs Kettleburn’s frequent notice of her matching gown and shoes. The woman wore a commode, which, Aunt Athena whispered, was “Now outdated.”
The guests soon left, because the children were getting restless, and the good doctor had things to attend to. But Uncle Freddie remained seated, opening and rifling through his calling card case and smiling.
“I take it your dinner yesterday went splendidly?” Aunt Athena asked as the servants cleared the things in their quiet and unobtrusive way. Leontes had already propped an easel by the window, after Uncle Freddie had told him the perfect north light would disappear before noon.
“Very much,” answered the doctor. “I almost envy Juno of her world, you know.”
Leontes looked at Hermione in puzzlement. Their uncle noticed this and cleared his throat. “Your cousin has made connections we would never dream of otherwise, you see. We are invited to a party, and I think you would be delighted with it, especially you, Hermione. A dinner in Piccadilly, just think! And you might meet a kind master there, too, Leon.”
With that and a peer at his pocket watch, he left the room.
“Where does Juno go to school again, Aunt?” Leon asked.
“Hog”Howard Art School,” Aunt Athena nodded enthusiastically. “And no one seems to know about it, located somewhere in Scotland, we believe. They sent us a letter about their accepting Juno, and that was that. Not that we applied, either. The letter just came, so your uncle and I suspect they have agents who do the job of looking for talented children””
“Do they accept only Londoners?”
“Oh no! Juno says she has a friend all the way from Ireland.”
“Then why””
“Oh, stupid of me, dear”of course”I don’t know”I mean, we did wonder”if Juno had received a letter…why did you not”perhaps it would come still”yes, perhaps later…” Aunt Athena mumbled in between gulps of her Souchong. She choked on the unstrained leaves at the bottom of her cup, laughed, and left them rather hastily.
“What’s your pleasure there then, brother mine?” Hermione stood and went to the easel. She was disappointed to see the galloping roan horses.
“Do their gaits and legs appear right?”
“How should I know?” Hermione said in authentic pique. She was tiring of all this, wearing corsets, wearing farthingales, wearing her hair in chignon, and being so far from Ron! “Have you ever painted me?”
“Why, I thought you swore never to ask me such a vain question!” Leontes laughed.
“What about Cicely?”
Leontes lost his pleasant demeanor. His thumb twitched in his palette. When he turned such mournful eyes to Hermione, she dearly wished she hadn’t asked the question. And when she heard his answer, she nearly swore in a way that would have made Ron proud if he could hear her.
“What is one picture worth? I could always paint her another, but who would want to render the resentful face that has replaced her beautiful and cheerful one in my memory?”
Number Twenty-Six, Piccadilly, Mayfair~
Hermione stood with Cicely and Aunt Bones in the Lufkins’ grand hall, trying to look pleasant and excited about the unusual things around her though anticipating trouble and musing on trouble. Where was Hermione Rashleigh?
In their Patronus-delivered agreement, Hermione had told her other self that the one to arrive first at the Lufkins would send the otter again as a prompt to the other for Disillusionment. Hermione had already done so in the privacy of a water closet.
When she came out, she found Cicely outside the door, looking grim.
“The Blacks are here. They are a very old family, and such status has made them worse than snubs. They feel like royalty. I came to tell you that Mrs Lufkin has warned me not to tell that you and your uncle are Muggles. Understand that we are not ashamed of you, dear. But the Blacks can be nasty. So when he arrives, he must know as well and not be too frank about his profession.”
“We will tell him. When do you think they will arrive? Leontes is coming, isn’t he?”
“Leontes! What! Is he in town?”
“I”I don’t know, but”but he usually visits my uncle at this time of year, doesn’t he? If he is with them, my uncle would surely take him.”
Cicely nodded. “Well, I should be thankful I can steel myself now for his appearance.”
“I shouldn’t have told you of the possibility of his arriving then.”
“I wouldn’t have forgiven you then,” Cicely returned as fondly.
“Ladies, lurking in halls will not do. Descend to the merriment below, if you please. Dinner will be rung shortly,” Mrs Lufkin told them, smiling, as she passed them to use the water closet.
Hermione and Cicely climbed down the staircase arm in arm and as close as their crinolines would allow. Hermione noted with amusement that the balusters of the balconies and staircases also billowed outward to accommodate the era’s feminine fashion. In the hall, more skirts swept the floor, and if it weren’t for her complicated situation with missing girls and portraits, she would have relished the scene.
The chandeliers shed golden light over the party’s jewels, powdered wigs and white cleavages. There was lace and ruffles everywhere and behind ivory silk fans, secret messages were conveyed. The air was redolent of perfumed pipes and conservatory flowers, which bloomed not only on vases but on the ladies’ hair and gowns.
Hermione regretted missing the Blacks’ arrival, but Cicely pointed them out, three people standing together by the piano, one man and two women, their chins and noses high in the air, and barely nodding their patrician heads when greeted. A man in a long wig came near them, and to this man they turned graciously and began conversation.
“That man is a Malfoy, I presume. All of them are blondes. Or perhaps a Rosier. Come, dear, let us walk through the room. I feel as if I shall freeze here like statue if I maintain my nerves rigidly.”
Hermione smiled and they moved through the throng, whispering to each other about the gowns, Cicely adding a gossip about the one wearing it. There were a lot of Crouch ladies, several Lestranges, Boneses, Bulstrodes, Smiths, and a couple of Potters and Weasleys, of whom the Blacks and the blonde man with them were clearly talking of, sending glares.
They caught snatches of conversation but joined in none of them. However, as they reached one circle where a Weasley stood out in his uncovered brilliant red crop, Hermione stopped.
“…name is Granger, but they all left for France now. Very intelligent and sociable. Interesting though is the news that one of them stayed here. The eldest son. The family were quite in a state searching for him before leaving, but they didn’t find him. We think perhaps the pixies did another Dymphna Furmage and abducted him. But he’s a quiet, inquisitive sort of a Muggle fellow, so he might just stare at them and poke and pry until they lose their tiny minds.”
The listeners broke into laughter here. Cicely was staring at Hermione, probably wondering about her sudden interest, but any inquiry was preempted by the gong being sounded, and the butler announcing Lord Stoddard Whithers, Mr and Mrs Frederick McGonagall, and Mr Leontes Rashleigh.
Cicely paled and clutched Hermione’s arm, thereby not noticing that Hermione herself had lost some color as well.
Mr and Mrs Lufkin greeted the newly arrived guests. Shortly after, others were announced, so Lord Whithers led his company forward, all of them gazing around for familiar faces. Leontes immediately spotted the two ladies. He was with them in a heartbeat. His eyes were connected to Cicely as he walked, but when he reached them, he tore his eyes away from hers and hissed at Hermione.
“Where had you disappeared to? You gave Aunt Athena a fright”You changed!” he exclaimed involuntarily, staring down her gown. Hermione wore an auburn frock then, trimmed with gold lace, reminiscent of Gryffindor colors. Cicely wore midnight blue, also with gold frills, very becoming to her coloring.
“Now, lad, it will not do to question ladies’ vanity and its powers and charms,” Mr McGonagall said, smiling at them and bowing to Cicely. Aunt Athena seized Hermione and kissed her.
Thankfully, any further inquiry was once again forestalled, this time by the dinner bell sounding. The Blacks were given the front of the procession, and they took it as if it was only due them, without any acknowledgment whatsoever to Mr Lufkin.
Both Cicely and Hermione wanted to escape, but both of them had one of their elbows clasped by Leontes. He led them to chairs and sat between them.
Hermione was prepared now and was not surprised to see the table packed with several kinds of food. It reminded her of Hogwarts. She had just expected dining to be like a Muggle, modern one, soup first, then the next courses brought to the table…
But no. The dishes for the first course were all there now. In the center of the table was the principal meat, the veal, the ‘bombarded veal’. Around it stood the other dishes, whose names Hermione heard from her fellow diners; salmon pie, pumpkin pudding, eggs au mitoir, peach fritters. syllabub, stewed soles, quakin’ pudding, stewed beef steaks and the soup, which Mr Lufkin began to serve with the help of two house-elves.
After the soup tureens were emptied, everyone drank and toasted for the little Lufkin. And then Mr Lufkin began the carving, which prompted the others to partake of the meats. Each dish was kept warm by magic.
It was easier than Hermione was nervous about, because both Cicely and Leontes gave their full attention to eating. Leontes only spoke to either of the ladies beside him to offer them some of the food. Otherwise, Hermione’s fears of being found out calmed. The sweet and creamy syllabub added to her peace. The first course having done, the plates and table-cloth were vanished and then replaced. Fruit tarts, jellies and creams appeared.
These went on smoothly, with just some smiles exchanged between Hermione and Cicely. Mr and Mrs McGonagall were entertained by Lord Whithers and Aunt Bones. Leontes was silent, but his eyes followed Cicely when they weren’t lowered to his plate.
And then the elves changed the table cloth again for dessert. There appeared on the table delicate, exquisite little sugar-paste sculptures of nine women. Between them, bowls of ices appeared.
It was at this moment that Cicely turned upon Leontes, causing Hermione to whip her head around from staring at Erato, the muse of love poetry.
“Have you brought my picture?”
Leontes turned to her slowly. “Why, have I had the honor of drawing you, Miss Prewett? Could one even do so? Capturing the light and charm of your face is a feat worthy of Hercules, I do think.”
Cicely smiled. “You are not a coward, Mr Rashleigh. Tell me frankly, have you destroyed it or have you not?”
Hermione heard a rustle behind her at this point, distracting her from watching her ‘brother’ and ‘best friend’. The whispering nearly made her jump, and she only stopped herself from moaning at the message. Instead, she lashed out.
“What does it matter if he has?”
Cicely and Leontes both turned to Hermione, their mouths slowly gaping as her words sunk in.
Author’s Note: ~At the beginning of this chapter, Hermione’s mistake is standing up before the hostess. Traditionally, the hostess led the ladies away.
~Tasses a glaces are the dainty cups that hold dessert ices.
~The early eighteenth century also saw the rise of publication, hence, the sidenote about Juno and her peers planning to have their own paper.
~The breakfast I described here is considered ‘simple’. The ‘enough bacon to feed an army’ phrase is a direct quote from Samuel Johnson, who had written about his English breakfast. In his breakfast, there were nine servants (!), five to serve at the buffet, and four to guard the plates from being empty.
~A commode is a big dome of a hat which protected the elaborately high hairstyles of the day.
~Dymphna Furmage (1612-1698) “ was abducted by pixies in Cornwall and lived in mortal fear of them henceforth (from the Lexicon FW Cards)
~The dinner dishes, except the pumpkin pudding, are directly borrowed from The Jane Austen Cookbook, the source of my as yet secret online source (hehe).
~a syllabub is popular in the eighteenth century and contained cider or wine sweetened and flavoured with nutmeg, milk and then cream. Sounds delicious, doesn’t it?