When You Wish Read online

  “I can hardly wait,” Theo responded with a chuckle, knowing perfectly well that Rosie would hear only enthusiasm in the dry comment. Curls, black as a raven’s wing, clustered close around her small head. Her eyes were the deep velvet blue of pansies in a brown face. Like her little sister, Theo was only truly happy out-of-doors.

  “Is Stoneridge here?” Rosie straightened, squinting behind her glasses as she looked around, expecting to see the tall, powerful figure of her brother-in-law.

  “No,” Theo said flatly, walking back to the group under the beech tree. “Neither is Edward, nor Jonathan.”

  “Goodness, are you grass widows, then?” Rosie asked. “Where are they all?”

  “Jonathan is painting the portraits of the duchess of Avonleigh’s children.” Clarissa took a sip of lemonade. “He had to go to Avonleigh Castle to do it, and since I cannot endure Annabel Avonleigh, I decided not to accompany him.”

  “She is a trifle irksome,” Elizabeth Grantley agreed mildly.

  “Still, Clarry, it’s a splendid commission,” Emily reminded her sister with a grave smile.

  “And Jonathan won’t notice if she’s irksome,” Rosie put in, taking an iced cake from the tea table. “Jonathan never notices such things.”

  Since Clarissa’s husband was a singularly absent-minded portrait painter who moved through the world in a dream, guided by his adoring and only occasionally more realistic wife, no one disputed this statement.

  “Where’s Edward?”

  Emily’s eyes grew soft. “He accompanied his father to the house in Scotland, to talk with the gamekeepers about the grouse shooting. We’re having a big house party for the opening of the season and they want to make sure everything’s in order.”

  “And I suppose you thought they’d prefer to go alone,” Rosie observed with her usual blunt insight. “Father and son enjoying each other’s company without women around.”

  “Edward and Sir Charles have always been very close,” Emily said a trifle defensively. “It’s not that they didn’t want me around, I just thought that it would be nice for them to have some time together.”

  “You are a saint,” Rosie declared, hugging her sister.

  “Nonsense,” Emily said, blushing.

  “You’re both perfectly saintly with your husbands,” Theo stated. “I only wish I were.”

  “So where is Stoneridge?” Rosie asked again, her eyes bright with curiosity. It was clear that wherever Sylvester was, Theo was not best pleased.

  “In London,” Theo said crossly. “He had business with his old regiment at Horseguards. Something to do with the war in Spain.”

  “Why didn’t you go with him?”

  Theo didn’t immediately reply. She took a sip of her own lemonade and frowned fiercely at the trunk of the beech tree.

  “Oh,” Rosie said, correctly interpreting her favorite sister’s expression. “Wouldn’t he let you?”

  “He says it’s too hot,” Theo said disgustedly. “There’s a heat wave in town, and some danger of fever, and the journey would be hot and jolting.” She glared.

  “Oh,” Rosie said again. “Are you—”

  “Yes,” her sister interrupted. “But I feel perfectly well and strong.”

  “But you had a very hard time with Peregrine,” Elizabeth Grantley reminded gently.

  “And even harder with Sarah,” Emily put in.

  Theo said nothing. Of all the Belmont sisters, she had always believed herself to be the strongest, most robust. Until her first pregnancy, she had never known a day’s illness, beyond childhood measles. But where her frailer sisters produced babies with enviable ease, Theo struggled through nine months of nausea and threatened miscarriages, culminating in long and agonizing deliveries. It struck her as one of the most unjust strokes of fate. Not least because it meant that her usually malleable, understanding husband became a veritable autocrat at the first sign of pregnancy. And Sylvester Gilbraith, at his most autocratic, was too strong a force even for Theo.

  “So,” Emily said, “while the husbands are away, the wives thought to play. We’ve even left the children behind.” Her sunny smile embraced her sisters, and Theo grinned reluctantly, accepting that her grievance at Sylvester was between the two of them. And besides, there was something immensely pleasing at the thought of being alone with her sisters again, re-creating their old intimacy.

  “Have you heard from Mama?” Rosie asked, as if she read Theo’s thoughts. The four of them were not really complete without Elinor.

  “A letter from Baden-Baden,” Theo said. “I brought it for you to read. She seems to be enjoying her honeymoon.”

  They all smiled. Their mother had been widowed eighteen years earlier, while she was carrying Rosie. Her recent marriage to the earl of Wetherby had delighted all her daughters and was the main reason for Rosie’s extended stay with her godmother.

  “I must go in and speak to Cook about dinner.” Elizabeth rose from her chair. “I know you all have much to catch up on.” She left them, smiling slightly as she heard their voices change tenor, drop a little behind her, as unconsciously they drew together once they were alone, reverting to the patterns of childhood as they exchanged news.

  They were not left alone for long. Wellby, the butler, approached in stately fashion across the lawn, carrying a silver salver and a small crate with a chain-link handle.

  “Lady Rosie.” He paused discreetly on the edge of the sisterly circle. “The postman has just delivered one of those letters … and this.” He looked down at the crate with ill-concealed repugnance. “If you’ll pardon my saying so, Lady Rosie, this has a most powerful and unpleasant smell.” He placed the crate on the grass with an expression of heartfelt relief and proffered the salver.

  Rosie took the letter quickly. The familiar bold black writing stared up at her from the wax-sealed envelope.

  “Who’s Ross Balmain?” Theo inquired, peering over her sister’s shoulder at the address on the envelope. “Why are his letters coming to you?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute,” Rosie said with almost a snap in her voice. She thrust the letter into her pocket and her fingers closed over the green glass bottle. “Oh, will one of you lend me ten guineas?” she said. “I most particularly need it.” Then, without waiting for an answer, she dropped to her knees to open the crate.

  Her sisters gathered round, none of them bothering to inquire why Rosie needed ten guineas. It was bound to have something to do with her scientific explorations.

  “Oh, what a stench!” Clarissa jumped back, her hand pressed to her nose, as Rosie pried up the wooden lid.

  “It’s only marsh grass and lake water,” Rosie said, delicately lifting out a large glass jar, its lid punctured with airholes. “They need their natural habitat to survive.”

  “Dear God in heaven.” Theo stared at the two almost formless objects floating in the jar. “What are they?”

  Emily retreated to where Clarissa stood at a safe distance, leaving Theo and Rosie, who both seemed unaffected by the stench.

  “They’re axolotls,” Rosie told Theo. “A kind of salamander from Mexico. I read this advertisement in a scientific journal. An expedition had brought some back and was offering them for study.” She held up the jar and peered at the creatures. “I hope they survived the journey. They were most dreadfully expensive.”

  “How expensive?” Emily asked.

  “Oh, thirty guineas, I think,” Rosie replied absently. “I can’t quite remember.”

  The sisters exchanged glances. It was no wonder Rosie was always out of funds.

  “They don’t look much like salamanders to me,” Theo observed, bending closer. “They don’t have any shape.”

  “No, they’re still in a larval condition,” Rosie explained enthusiastically. “You see they even have external gills. But you can see that they’re quadrupeds, and they have tails, if you look closely. They only metamorphose to mature salamanders if the aquatic environment dries up. Then they develop and move
on land. That’s what makes them most particularly fascinating.”

  “I suppose so.” Theo straightened, feeling slightly queasy. They were the most repulsive-looking blobs of life she’d ever laid eyes on. “I think the blackish one is marginally less repulsive than the pinky albino. What are you going to do with them?”

  “I have all sorts of plans,” Rosie said happily. “I must go and put them in the aquarium. I bought it especially. A perfect habitat.”

  “And how much did that cost?” Emily asked into the air as Rosie hurried away.

  “A deal more than ten guineas,” Theo responded. “But what on earth is she up to? Why is she getting letters addressed to a Ross Balmain?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dear Mr. Balmain,

  I’m very sorry we seem unable to resolve this dispute amicably in correspondence. I had hoped that the spirit of scientific inquiry that binds us both would have led to a mutual understanding. I still feel sure that we can reach such an understanding, however, and in the interests of resolution, I propose a meeting. I will make a journey into Hampshire and wait upon you within five days of your receipt of this. I trust you will receive me and we can meet as colleagues in a joint endeavor.

  I remain your obedient servant,

  Charles Larchmont.

  “Oh, no! Now what am I going to do?” Rosie wailed, crumpling the letter in her fist.

  “What about?” Theo asked, still peering at the axolotls now floating peacefully in a large aquarium in Rosie’s bedroom. She turned toward her sister. “Ah, the letter to the mysterious Ross Balmain. Explain, Rosie.” She sat down on the end of the bed.

  “Oh, he is the most odious man!” Rosie paced the room with angry strides. “A fussy, pompous old man. There’s only one thing I wish for more than anything in the world. And I know I should have it. I’ve done all the work. I know I’m right. What right has he to stand in my way? To stop me getting the one thing … the only thing I will ever wish for,” she added extravagantly.

  “You’re not being very clear,” Theo observed, hitching herself up the bed until she was leaning against the pillows.

  “What is it you wish for, dear?” Emily asked tenderly. “Can we help?”

  “Yes, of course,” Clarissa said. “If it’s within our power, Rosie. And you know Mama will—”

  “No!” Rosie broke in with lamentable lack of finesse. “It’s within my power. I can do it myself. I already have done it myself. I don’t need any help. Only this … this … oh, this horrible, self-important, self-righteous old man is trying to steal my discovery.”

  “I appear to be no wiser,” Theo murmured, folding her hands over her still-flat belly. “It might help if we knew who Ross Balmain is.”

  “He’s me, of course.” Rosie uncrumpled the letter.

  “You?” exclaimed two of her sisters. Theo merely raised an eyebrow.

  “I have to pretend to be a man,” Rosie said impatiently. “It’s perfectly clear. The Royal Society doesn’t elect women to its membership, so I have to be a man.”

  “Ah, I begin to understand,” Theo said.

  “Well, I don’t,” Clarry declared. “And neither does Emily.”

  “I discovered this new classification of moths, black moths,” Rosie said with the same impatience. “I documented my findings, I did drawings, I wrote a paper—a very learned paper—and I submitted the specimen to the Royal Society. Only, because I’m female I had to pretend to be male if they were going to take me seriously. And it was all wonderful to start with, and they said I had discovered a new species, and my research was impeccable, and the specimen was beautifully preserved, and so they proposed electing me as a member of the society. They would vote on it at the next meeting, but they were certain it would pass without dissent.”

  She clasped her hands tightly over the abused letter from Mr. Larchmont and gazed at her sisters. “Don’t you see what this would mean? They would name a species after me and a woman would be elected to the Royal Society.”

  “A seventeen-year-old woman into the bargain,” Theo remarked. “What a brilliant thing, Rosie. I always knew you were a genius.”

  “I’m still confused,” Emily said. “But what’s this pompous old man got to do with anything?”

  “He says … claims … that he found the species first. That while I was putting together my research, he was three steps ahead and so the find belongs to him. And since he’s already a member of the Royal Society, of course they took his word over mine.” She uncrumpled the letter yet again. “I’ve been writing to him, trying to prove that I got there first, and he just lectures and patronizes in his answers, and treats me just like some amateur, which I’m not,” she stated emphatically. “And now he’s coming here.” She gazed down at the letter. “He’s coming to meet Ross Balmain. What am I to do?”

  “Well, you must tell him the truth,” Emily said.

  “Of course she can’t do that,” Theo protested. “If she does that, she’ll lose all chance of being elected to the Royal Society.”

  Such an ambition would have struck Emily and Clarissa as absurd, except that they knew their little sister. Rosie marched to her own drummer. “Maybe so,” Clarissa said. “But even if she managed to get elected, how could she keep her true identity a secret? Don’t they have meetings and things?”

  “I wouldn’t have to go,” Rosie pointed out. “I’d do my own research, and submit papers, and engage in correspondence—all the things they do, sharing their discoveries…” Her eyes shone behind the horn-rimmed spectacles. “It would be so wonderful to know these people, to be one of them. And no one need know anything about me except that I’m some kind of academic recluse.”

  “Oh, Rosie!” Emily said with a gurgle of laughter. “An academic recluse! You’re only seventeen. What kind of a life is that for a young girl?”

  “A most particularly satisfactory one,” Rosie said stubbornly.

  “I’m sure it would suit Rosie very well,” Theo observed. “But it’s not going to happen if we can’t circumvent the patronizing old man.” She yawned suddenly. “I’m so sleepy. It’s so annoying.”

  “Maybe you should take a nap,” Clarissa suggested.

  Theo shook her head vigorously. “I’m not such a milksop.”

  “Stoneridge would say you should,” Rosie said.

  “Yes, but he’s not here, is he?” Theo returned acidly, swinging her legs off the bed. “Maybe if I walk around a little, I’ll wake up and start my brain working.”

  “This is pretty, Rosie. Where did it come from?” Emily’s eye was caught by the green glass bottle standing on the windowsill, where it caught the sunlight so that it shimmered and glowed in a swirl of blue and green between the silver bands.

  “Oh, that’s why I need to borrow ten guineas. I fell in love with it in the curio shop on Quay Hill.” Rosie forgot her problem for a moment as she picked up the bottle, cradling it in her palm. “There’s just something about it. I don’t know what.” She held it up to the light to admire it more closely.

  “There’s something inside.” Theo, at her shoulder, reached over and took it from her. “Look, you can see the shape.” They all crowded round, examining the bottle in the light.

  “Let me see.” Rosie took it back and turned the silver stopper. It was stiff and wouldn’t move at first, but finally turned loose. “There’s a plug of cork inside as well.”

  “Maybe you can get it out with a hairpin.” Emily pulled a long pin from the knot of golden brown hair piled on top of her head.

  “Stick it in like a corkscrew,” Clarry suggested.

  “The cork’s not even damp,” Rosie marveled. “And Mr. Malone said the bottle had come up in a fisherman’s crab pot.” She inserted the pin carefully, twisted, and pulled. The little plug squeaked as it moved, then popped neatly out on the end of the pin. Rosie’s fingers were as deft and delicate as if she were handling some fragile insect specimen as she extracted a tightly rolled piece of leather and unfurled it.
r />   Her sisters peered over her shoulder. “Look at those strange scratch marks.” Emily pointed.

  “Perhaps they’re symbols,” Theo said.

  “Maybe they’re runes,” Clarissa suggested. “You know, magic symbols … a charm or something.”

  “You are such a fanciful romantic, Clarry,” Theo said with an affectionate chuckle.

  “There’s something on the back.” Rosie turned the leather over. “Words. Real words.”

  “What does it say?” Theo again reached across her sister’s shoulder.

  “I’ll read it,” Rosie said. “It’s my bottle.”

  “It’s half mine if I give you the ten guineas.” Theo’s laugh was teasing and Rosie ignored the comment.

  “‘To thine own wish be true,’” she read slowly. “‘Do not follow the moth to the star.’” She looked around at her sisters. “What could it mean?”

  “It sounds very prosy to me,” Theo declared. “Who on earth would bother to put something like that in an exquisite bottle that ends up at the bottom of the sea?”

  “It’s most mysterious,” Rosie said, still fascinated by the message.

  “Well, let’s turn our attention to the matter of Mr. Larchmont.” Theo had little sympathy with mysteries. “There’s no time to tell him not to come, so Mr. Balmain most regretfully will have to be away from home. Perhaps we could say he’s a cousin of ours and asked us to give Mr. Larchmont his deepest regrets that he couldn’t be here but he had to go to a deathbed, or something.”

  “I would like to meet him,” Rosie declared. “I would like to meet him and tell him to his face just what I think of people who go around stealing other people’s scientific discoveries.”

  “I don’t see why you shouldn’t have that satisfaction,” Theo said slowly. “It shouldn’t surprise Mr. Larchmont if Mr. Balmain’s cousins know the story and of course they would be on the side of their cousin. We could give him a most uncomfortable time, it seems to me.”