Sitting opposite him on a brown leather couch were his mother and Caroline, neither of whom seemed happy. George fussed about, moving from window to window and reporting the goings on.
The door opened and Sir Darius slipped in. He looked unperturbed. 'The fire is out,' he said. 'Little damage, really. The house staff were able to extinguish it before the fire brigade arrived.'
'The ball?'
'It goes on. I think most of those present weren't even aware of the fire. And certainly not about the dispossessed ones lying about up there.' He made a face. 'Horrible.'
'We can restore their souls.' Aubrey sat up straight. 'We use the glass plates and the magically enhanced flash powder to reverse the process. Set off the flash powder, hold the plate between the flash and the dispossessed one and project their soul back to their body. With an enhanced reflector.' He gnawed a lip, remembering the fate of Monsieur Bernard. 'I'll need to sort through Farentino's notes, though, to perfect the process. I want to find the composition of the flash powder, and work out the spell he used to add to it.'
Sir Darius nodded. 'Good. We will speak to McKenzie about it later. But I fear there is another issue that may not be as easy to resolve.'
Aubrey raised an eyebrow at the prospect of an issue that was more problematic than that of restoring lost souls.
Aubrey was exhausted and grimy, but exhilaration was bubbling up inside him after defying the Soul Stealer. He wanted to get back to the ball and enjoy himself. He tried to catch Caroline's eye, but she avoided his gaze.
'Can this wait?' he asked. 'With respect, sir. We should rejoin the ball as soon as we can. Show the flag, so to speak.'
His mother bridled. 'No, this cannot wait. I regard this matter as very, very serious.'
Aubrey scanned the room for clues. His mother's anger was palpable. Her face was pale – furious pale – and her eyes were hard. Caroline also looked unhappy, the handkerchief in her hands seeming to take up most of her attention. No, he corrected himself. Wistful would be a better description than unhappy.
His father was grim. Only George looked as befuddled as Aubrey felt.
His exhilaration began to drain away.
Sir Darius cleared his throat. 'While you were engaged upstairs, Caroline spoke to your mother. She mentioned that she was unhappy at the way her place at the university was withdrawn.'
Aubrey's stomach tried to scurry away and find somewhere to hide. 'Ah. Yes.'
Lady Rose made a fist and bounced it on the armrest of the couch. 'I've lived with you too long, Aubrey, not to be able to sense your machinations. I immediately sought out the Chancellor of the university.'
'He was at the ball?' Aubrey asked weakly.
'Indeed. Once I apprised him of the situation he telephoned Professor Lavisher, rousing him from bed.'
Numbly, Aubrey decided it was like standing in the path of an avalanche. His fate was bearing down on him with stately, inevitable grandeur. 'The university is a complex place, as I've found out in my dealings with it,' he began.
'Don't make matters worse, Aubrey,' Sir Darius advised wearily.
Aubrey shut his mouth.
'Thank you, Darius,' Lady Rose said. 'Professor Lavoisier confirmed your part in events, Aubrey. He remembered you well and expressed surprise at the Chancellor's enquiries.'
'It wasn't meant to work out like this,' Aubrey said. Even to his ears, it sounded pathetic.
'Quite,' Lady Rose said. 'But I'm afraid it's a worrying symptom. You've displayed a careless attitude toward other people before. You enjoy manipulating them to your own ends, convinced that you know best. You disregard their wishes and charge ahead heedlessly. Is this inaccurate?'
Aubrey felt ill. 'No. It's blunt, but not inaccurate.'
'Good. I mean to be blunt.' She stood. 'Caroline has asked if she can accompany me on my expedition. I think it's an excellent idea. I do not believe you are good for her.' She held out her hand. Caroline rose and took it.
Aubrey leapt to his feet. 'Caroline?'
She looked at him. He saw the anger in her face, which was hard to bear, but what was worse was the unmistakeable disappointment in her features. 'You knew that I wanted to participate in that course, Aubrey. You knew it and took me away from it anyway.'
'I was going to get you back in. By the end of the week, certainly.'
Her brow wrinkled. 'And you really think that makes your actions acceptable?'
She didn't wait for an answer. She nodded to Lady Rose and they both left the room.
Aubrey studied the floor. 'No,' he said in a small voice. 'I don't suppose it does.'
Sir Darius frowned at his son for a moment then crossed the room and poured himself a brandy. 'We will give them some time to leave the embassy gracefully. Then we will go back down to the ball and show the Gallians that the alliance with Albion is as strong as ever. Show the flag, as you put it.'
Stricken, Aubrey lifted his head. 'Father!'
'Listen to me, Aubrey. You've achieved great things in the past few weeks. Important people will want to thank you for it, and deservedly, too.' He held up his brandy and considered it. 'But while you've triumphed on the big stage, you've tripped over your own feet in other regards, wouldn't you say?'
Aubrey heard the understanding in his father's voice, but couldn't meet his gaze. 'Yes, sir.'
'You're feeling despondent, I have no doubt about that. And so you should. But now comes one of the hardest lessons of all. In this glittering world you so much want to be a part of, you must be able to mask your feelings. You must be able to hold your head up and perform while feeling like hell inside.' Sir Darius drained his brandy and put the glass down on a side table. 'It hurts, but it's possible – and I should know.'
Aubrey looked to George, who had remained silent by the window during the confrontation. 'George?'
'It's the last thing in the world I feel like doing, old man, but it seems to be important. I'll be there with you.'
Aubrey knew he was getting more sympathy than he probably deserved. He stood, straightened his jacket and sighed. 'Let us go, then.'
Twenty-
Four
FROM ALBION IS HE, FROM ALBION IS HE.
It adds greatly to his status,
The way other nations rate us,
For he is from Albion, he is from Albion.
The words were stirring and the chorus was in tune, but Aubrey found it hard to be moved. In front of an audience full of Gallian and Albionite dignitaries, he stood, centre stage, the Buccaneer King being feted as the epitome of Albion manhood. Even Sir Percy Derringford was there, his soul having been safely restored to him; Aubrey saw the Albion Ambassador glowering from a front row seat in between the Prime Ministers of Gallia and Albion.