“Satyr,” Magnus said absently, as he peered up the flue.
The word squeezed Alexandra’s breath right out of her.
“That was it! Too fancy by far, for him, that word. We called ’im Beast even then. Molly would cross ’erself and give a shiver like she was afeared of him and we’d all have ourselves a little laugh. And didn’t ’e leave ’er a flower one day on her bureau? She thought it was from the footman she was sweet on and she tossed it right away, angry like, when she found out it was Magnus.’owwe laughed at the boy.”
Alexandra decided quite calmly then that she hated Mrs. Scofield.
She could feel the heat of antipathy wash over her skin. It filled her lungs, so that every breath she drew scorched her.
“But ’e made ’imself right useful every day, didn’t ’e, though. Still does. Always watching to see what needed to be done. So needful and eager to help. And so we kept ’im, like. ’e could do everything from sew to lifting great kettles and mucking out stables and emptying slops. Did ye ever believe ye’d get yerself a pretty wife, now, when you was emptying slops?”
Magnus said, “Yes.”
He moved away to the window.
This apparently gave Mrs. Scofield pause.
As if she’d never dreamed that the quiet, awkward, orphan child had in fact beenseethingwith ambition.
“Mr. Coopersmith taught him to shoot and ’e won that contest and ’e nivver looked back. Was I surprised! We nivver did think ’e’d amount to much.”
Alexandra stared at Magnus. Her heart still slammed in her chest sickeningly.
But he was looking at Mrs. Scofield.
“Everything in your flat looks to be in excellent order,” Magnus said mildly. “I’m glad to see you’re still comfortable. We ought to leave now, Alexandra, or we’ll be late for the ceremony. They’re unveiling a statue in my honor today, Mrs. Scofield.”
He said this conversationally. As if this was something that could happen to anybody. As if in his lifetime he’d endured everything there was to endure, and nothing Mrs. Scofield could say or do to him now would stir him to anything other than ironic amusement.
“A statue! That ought to scare all the pigeons right out of the park! Ha ha!” Mrs. Scofield slapped her knee. “Goodbye, then, Magnus, and thank you. Goodbye, Mrs. Brightwall.”
Alexandra deferentially knelt next to Mrs. Scofield and gently reached for her hand. She clasped it gently and gazed at her intently.
The woman gawked at her in bald astonishment.
Magnus went still.
“It’s been an honor to meet the person who kept him alive even though he was allegedly not a pretty baby, Mrs. Scofield.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Scofield said warily.
“And Mrs. Scofield?” Alexandra continuedgently. “Do not ever speak that wayofhim or to him again.”
Alexandra’s voice was so light, respectful, and kind that it was apparently a moment before her words registered on Mrs. Scofield. But then again, one scarcely feels the wasp land before it stings.
She knew when they registered because Mrs. Scofield jerked her hand back a little with surprise.
Alexandra refused to relinquish it. She gripped itjusta little harder.
Mrs. Scofield swiveled her head toward Magnus, then back to Alexandra. Dumbfounded and alarmed.
Magnus seemed to have found something interesting to gaze at through the window.
“Magnus doesn’t owe you a thing,” Alexandra said calmly. “While I am grateful indeed that you and the rest of the staff kept him alive, it is only what decent humans would do, when presented with a helpless, hungry baby fussing in a sack. Henceforth—”
“‘Henceforth’?”—Mrs. Scofield quoted, startled.
“—if you are ever fortunate enough to speak to him again, you will address him with the respect and deference appropriate to the differences between his rank and stature and yours, or you will not speak to him at all. You will not use his Christian name. You will use his title. You will thank him any time he deigns to grace you with his presence. You will not mention mucking or slops to him again. You will rise from your chairand curtsy when you see him. Do you understand me?”