Lucky Rabbit

The carriage was crowded with two adults, a teenager, five children, a cat, a dog, and a rabbit stuffed into it. When they reached Lanthorne Court, everyone except for Miss Cupcakes and Lord Winston piled out with unseemly haste. Pandy felt a bit like she was escaping a clown car, especially since someone’s digestive system was Very Unhappy about the sausages they’d had with breakfast.

While the smell dissipated, everyone else stared around at the bustling crowds, and Lord Reedsley spoke to the carriage driver. After a minute, the driver nodded, tipped her cap, and flicked the reins, slowly driving the carriage off down a slightly-less-crowded side street.

Lady Reedsley held out one lace-gloved hand for Geraldine, and the other for Eleanor, gripping both girls’ hands firmly. Lord Reedsley simply picked up Thaniel and placed the small boy on his shoulders, causing Thaniel’s face to split with a grin so broad even his dimples were barely visible. Pandy was placed on the captain’s head, where she discovered that the man had the bare beginnings of a bald patch.

“Everyone else, stay together,” Lord Reedsley said, smiling at Abbington, Isidor, and Clara. Clara held a delicate parasol, and when her father looked her way, it somehow dipped between them, preventing their gazes from connecting.

“Oh, Corbin!” Lady Reedsley cried. “Look! I didn’t even know you could grow Jamson Berries that large!” She sailed through the crowd, which parted for her enormously broad skirt like ice floes before the prow of a ship.

The usual stalls had given way to carts, each one open and bearing carefully curated cucurbits, cantaloupes, and copious crops. An abundance of avocados were arrayed against aubergines and artichokes. Pandy wasn’t even certain the fruits and vegetables should be able to grow all at the same time, but no one here even looked surprised as they saw sweet berries beside enormous apples. Of course, with Nature and Earth elementalists around, Pandy doubted anything except the depths of winter would deter the growth of these plants.

While the majority of the displays here centered around plants, including burgeoning begonias and delightful dahlias, there were also carts containing artisanal goods, from tiny toys like the ones Pandy had gotten for Eleanor and Geraldine to handcrafted hats. Lady Reedsley headed directly toward a cart containing hats that were so large and elaborate they almost qualified as displays all by themselves. One showed a kitten leaping into a tree crafted of felt, with several dainty birds on wires fleeing the invader, the scene carefully balanced so the hat would remain perched atop the wearer’s head.

There was food everywhere. A cart displayed what Pandy would have called French pastries, and next to it was a man selling slightly less glossy versions of the exact same thing. Everyone got a Chocolate Moonroll – which Pandy knew as a chocolate croissant – and Pandy just stopped short of licking Thaniel’s crumbs from Captain Reedsley’s pate. He would just have to brush those off himself.

Augustus found them when they’d wandered through less than a quarter of the stands, his gaze catching Pandy’s just as she was licking chocolate from her whiskers. The corners of his eyes crinkled behind his glasses, and he raised a hand to wave. Pandy lifted a paw, but remembered in time that she was just a rabbit and put it back down, wiggling her nose at him instead.

Just as the adults were exchanging greetings, a strange hush settled over the square, followed by intense whispering that rippled out from the entrance to the main street. The children without Thaniel’s bird’s-eye view clamored to know what was going on, and Thaniel sat up, puffed his chest out, and said, “There’s a whole group of old people coming. They’re wearin’ big old flowers, and they’re touching the Grange displays.”

A good portion of the trip over, as well as a not-insignificant amount of time since then, had been spent impressing upon the children that they were not, under any circumstances, to touch anything, so the children gasped in a sort of horrified glee. “Won’t they get in terrible trouble?” Geraldine asked, looking thrilled by the prospect.

Lord Reedsley chuckled, adjusting Thaniel on his shoulders. Thaniel squeaked, then giggled, as the captain said, “Those are the judges. Their job is to go to all of the Grange displays that have been entered for judging, and choose the best ones. They won’t be here long. They have to move very quickly in order to see all of the entries in a single day.”

“Won’t they get stuck in traffic?” Isidor asked. He’d been shocked and rather appalled at the number of people and carriages on the roads today. From the look on his face, Pandy was fairly certain he was regretting the fact that he had to be here at all.

Augustus shook his head. “Not at all. Watch.”

The crowd parted, and the judges walked to the cart with the enormous hats. The man with the cart handed the judges a piece of paper with a shaking hand, and each of the five judges lifted a hat, turning it this way and that, stroking fingers along the brims and silken linings. One lady perched what looked like a stuffed heron – though Pandy was almost certain it was actually crafted of fabric with added feathers – on top of her curls and gingerly tilted her head. The hat slipped to the side, and the lady removed it, then jotted something down in her notebook as the artisan’s face flushed. He tried to speak, but a Very Large man stepped forward and shook his head, making the artist sink back, lips pinched.

“The items entered must stand on their own merit,” Augustus said softly as the judges moved on. “The artist, farmer, or craftsman has the opportunity to explain their methods and materials on the entry form, but they can’t speak to the judges or interfere in the judging. Now look.”

As the judges reached the far side of the square, they exchanged a few brief words, then clicked their heels together like tap dancers. Instantly, they began to rise into the air, while the crowd gave soft gasps of admiration. Once they were above the rooftops, they leaned forward and zipped off, soon disappearing completely.

The man with the hats burst into tears, and his neighbors rushed over to comfort him. Thaniel patted Lord Reedsley on the head to get his attention, then leaned down and whispered, “Will he be all right?”

Lady Reedsley sighed. “She didn’t even attempt to use hat pins, so I doubt if he’ll be marked down too badly. It would be better if the hats were spelled to stay on, but not everyone has access to that kind of magic. Hopefully, he entered them in the magic-free category. Some people prefer to buy items that use little to no magic, and it will be excellent advertising for him if he wins.” Her eyes lit up. “Perhaps I should buy a hat from him before that happens. They really are lovely hats.”

Lord Reedsley and Augustus shared an amused glance, though the captain’s amusement turned to sudden horror as Geraldine said, “You should, Mother! Just imagine Lady Twitter’s face if she saw you in one of those! I do love the one with the kitten.”

As Lady Reedsley and her two tugboats approached the hat-maker – what was someone who made hats called? a hatterdasher? – Lord Reedsley muttered, “How much does a hat like that cost? Blessed Ismara, I hope the price of wheat goes up in the next week or so.”

Augustus shook his head as the hat-man brightened, wiping tears from his cheeks as he began spirited negotiations with Lady Reedsley. “You’d probably best plan on having a quiet Midwinter celebration this year,” he told the captain, who sighed in resignation but made no attempt to call his wife back.

Soon enough, Lady Reedsley returned, and announced that the milliner – that was the word – would send the hat to Falconet after the Grange display was over, and Geraldine could bring it home with her at Midwinter. It was Eleanor’s turn to look dismayed at this plan, probably because the hat would take up a full quarter of their bedroom, but Augustus said he was certain he could get it to the Reedsley estate before then. “After all, Lady Alice, I’m sure you want to wear it as soon as possible,” he said. “By spring, it may not be in fashion any more.”

“Oh my,” Lady Alice said, eyes widening. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Time moves more slowly in the country, Mr. Blackwood, and fashion with it. I’d almost forgotten how quickly things change in Knightsmere.”

Augustus smiled, and the group moved on, examining the Grange displays and nibbling their way across the square. By the time they reached the far side, all of the younger children looked a bit nauseated from all the sugar and fried foods they’d scarfed down, and Lord Reedsley took Thaniel down from his shoulders out of an excess of caution. This prompted the chancellor to crouch down beside the little boy and say, “May I borrow your rabbit for a little while, Thaniel?”

This time, Thaniel barely even hesitated before passing Pandy over, but as he did, he looked the chancellor in the eyes and said, “Have her back by dinner.”

Somehow Augustus managed to keep a straight face, nodding solemnly as he said, “I will.” Then he stood, nonchalantly ignoring the Reedsleys’ puzzled expressions as he said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you here. I need to take care of some school business, and I’m certain it will be terribly boring, so I won’t ask you to wait. Can you make your way back to your carriage?”

Lord Reedsley was looking between Thaniel, Pandy, and Augustus, his brows drawn down thoughtfully, but eventually he glanced toward the street they had been slowly but steadily approaching. “I had the driver bring the carriage to meet us over here. I can see her waiting for us.” He glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Will the, ah, rest of our party be joining us there?”

It was Pandy’s turn to be surprised, until she realized that the captain was referring to whatever guards were meant to be watching Eleanor, and probably Thaniel, too. Augustus nodded, flicking his eyes toward a nearby rooftop, then another on the other side of the street. “They’re already here, and you can rest assured that they won’t lose you in traffic. You’ll be traveling along a route known to be clear of problems.”

Lord Reedsley looked relieved, as did Isidor, who had sidled closer so he could listen in, though his eyes never left the princess, who was chatting excitedly with Geraldine. “Good enough, then,” Lord Reedsley said. He looked at Pandy, who was tucked into the crook of Augustus’s arm, and added, “I suppose I’ll see you at dinner then.”

The two men shook hands, Augustus bowed to Lady Reedsley, smiled at the children, and nodded to Clara. The girl hadn’t spoken a single word during the trek across the crowded square, and she didn’t break her silence as they all piled back into the carriage, which had indeed circled around to meet them. The absence of one smallish rabbit didn’t make much difference in the over-stuffed nature of the conveyance, and Pandy winced as she heard someone sniff loudly, then groan.

They waited until the carriage rattled slowly off down the road, the pedestrians and other carriages somehow managing to move out of the way, even though it looked like there was barely enough room for a greased hare to slip through. Then Augustus stepped to the side, out of the flow of people, and murmured, “I guessed that you might have your own plans for today. Was I right?”

Pandy nodded, and he smiled. “One moment then,” he said, before taking a few more steps into a narrow nook formed by the meeting of a particularly tall Grange cart – holding what looked like bright purple ears of corn – and the wall of one of the small shops that lined the square. He placed Pandy down, then turned his back on her and took one step away, grasping the lapels of his coat and spreading it wide as he pretended to search about his person for something that almost certainly didn’t exist.

Pandy thought, and in a moment, her front was pressed against Augustus’s back. They both froze, then Augustus stepped away, actually looking a bit flustered as he turned and held out his hand.

“Augustus Blackwood, ma’am. Pleased to meet you,” he said. “May I know your name?”

Pandy opened her mouth to respond, but as she did, her eye caught on the hand she was holding out for Augustus. It was a perfectly nice hand, but it wasn’t hers. Some part of her still hadn’t entirely given up on the idea that she might someday look like Pandora S. Boxx again, and when she did, she wanted to be able to reclaim her true name.

Rather desperately, her gaze flitted around the nearby carts. Stringed instruments of some kind, with the craftsman gently strumming on something that wasn’t quite a guitar, and wasn’t quite a harp. Another man selling bags, boots, and belts made out of what looked like snakeskin. A mother hurried along, her child trailing behind her. The child fell and began crying, causing the mother to turn back, her expression crumpling in concern.

“Eurydice!” Pandy said. “Eurydice Haupe.”

One corner of Augustus’s mouth turned up in what looked like surprise, but he bowed over Pandy’s hand, his lips just barely brushing her skin, warm breath sending a shiver through her as he said, “It is truly a pleasure to meet you, Eurydice Haupe.”