Wyrde and Wicked (Paperback)

Disappointing as it may be to relate the state of dullness prevailing at Werth Towers after the exciting events of the summer, yet it must be done. This, after all, is an endeavour prizing Truth over fashion.

Overflowing with the enthusiasm attending a series of mild successes, then (for so we will term such a succession of catastrophes, on the grounds that they could have turned out a great deal worse), Gussie would have attacked the matter of the Books with gusto. Indeed, she tried.

She began by turning her uncle’s library upside down, much to the disgust of a bristling Lord Bedgberry.

‘Really, Gussie!’ said he, having wandered, in a state only half-awake, into this favourite part of the house, with a view to changing his copy of A Natural History of Lycanthropes for some new, exciting treatise. ‘What can you mean by all this mess?’

His lordship’s expostulations were not unjust. Gussie (and her faithful Miss Frostell) had soon tired of removing a single book at a time, carefully checking its title page and contents, before neatly returning it to the shelf. Gussie’s urgent curiosity and Miss Frostell’s boundless enthusiasm would not admit of so slow a pace. Inevitably, then, the ladies soon fell to removing the leather-bound books by the armful, and discarding the greater part upon the nearby tables, and soon after upon the floor.

‘Help us, then,’ said Gussie impatiently, barely attending to Theo’s dismay. ‘With the three of us at work, we shall soon have checked every book.’

‘For what, pray?’ said Theo, not moving from his station in the doorway. Gussie, casting a careless glance in his direction, observed that he existed in a state of high indignation, from the toes of his shoes to the tips of his rusty-hued hair. Indeed, the latter appeared almost to be standing on end with horror.

‘For something pertaining to those wretched Books,’ said Gussie, returning, unfazed, to her ransacking of the shelves. ‘There must be something among all these tomes, I am sure of it.’

There were indeed a great number of volumes crowded into Lord Werth’s library, successive generations of the family having frequently boasted a Theo among them (that being, a learned gentleman of bookish habits; his other predilections being not nearly so common, even among the Werths). ‘I cannot be the first of the family to entertain a lively curiosity about the Book of Werth,’ said Gussie hopefully. ‘Even if its fellows in bookish iniquity were hitherto unknown.’

‘Were they, though?’ put in Miss Frostell, presently engaged in hefting quite ten or twelve burdensome volumes in her arms all at once. Her destination was the deep window-seat, through which the afternoon sun shone golden and inviting (and ignored). As she spoke, one hapless tome slithered from her uncertain grasp, and fell to the floor with a bang.

Theo started forward. ‘Careful! Dash it, these books are valuable!’

‘That is a good notion, Frosty,’ said Gussie, ignoring Theo (as she so often did). ‘Perhaps some forebear of ours did know of the other Books, and the fact has simply been forgotten!’ Upon which encouraging reflection, she renewed her attack upon the shelves.

‘Book, Gussie,’ said Theo, occupying himself with an attempt to restore some of the books to their shelves (fruitless, for his efforts were easily outmatched by the ladies). ‘We know of only one other Book.’

‘If there is a second, I am persuaded there is a third,’ said Gussie, her words emerging half muffled, for she had thrust her head into the deep recess of a shelf in quest of a slim volume that had fallen down the back. ‘Perhaps rather more. And since both Books have shown a propensity to lie dormant for months at a time, or even years, well! They could be everywhere.’

‘Let us hope not,’ said Theo fervently.

‘I am hoping so,’ Gussie retorted. ‘To conduct a properly scientific study, we require more specimens. The more, the merrier! And I should like very much to know which of the Wyrded families of the country possess such a Book as ours.’

‘The Selwyns do not,’ Miss Frostell reminded her erstwhile charge.

‘No, that is true. But that does not necessarily mean that they never had one, does it?’

‘Do you mean that they may have lost it?’ said Miss Frostell.

‘Precisely. This second Book has obviously entered the book trade, at one point or another in its life. Other such tomes may have been sold, or even stolen away from their original owners.’

‘I should like to know where you imagine you are going with this line of thinking,’ said Theo, abandoning his attempts to restore order, and sinking hopelessly into the welcoming arms of a deep library-chair. ‘I find it impossible to follow it.’

‘I hardly know myself,’ admitted Gussie. ‘I believe we are speculating.’

‘Speculating,’ uttered Theo in disgust. ‘No amount of speculation will uncover facts, Gussie.’

‘But we have so few facts to work with. Hardly any at all. I must, then, have something else to amuse me.’

Theo gave a great sigh, and rested his face in his hands. ‘You will not find anything of use in here,’ he said into his palms. ‘I should be very surprised if anyone has discovered enough about the Book of Werth to write about it.’

‘Whyever not?’ said Gussie. ‘When it has been in our possession for such a great many years—’

‘Yes, and everyone with any sense at all has kept well clear of it, except at need.’

Gussie, mindful of her own visit to the Book not long ago, with Lady Werth for company, said with unimpaired cheer: ‘Well, and I never was accused of possessing a great deal of sense. I had never before thought such a lack might stand me in good stead, but so it proves! I am the perfect person to investigate.’

‘And so am I!’ said Miss Frostell gaily, hurling another stack of tomes onto the floor. A choking cloud of dust arose, sending her into a fit of coughing.

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