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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kidnapped

The rest of the week was perfectly miserable.

There was no word from Jupiter, nor from the League of Explorers about when he might return. (So, the usual.)

Jack didn’t go back to school, instead remaining at the Deucalion where he ordered all his meals from room service and didn’t leave his suite once. For three days, all Morrigan heard from across the hallway was furious cello practice and the occasional sound of a bow being thrown at the wall. Part of her wanted to bang on his door and demand to know what his problem was, but she refused to be the one to break the icy silence between them.

Instead, she spent her evenings after school rereading Marguerite Misanthrope and dithering over whether to attend her Aunt Modestine’s wedding. Her curiosity about the Darlings had only intensified, and the chance to learn more about her mother from the people who knew her best was sorely tempting. But on the other hand, Lady Darling’s dubious scowl still lingered in Morrigan’s memory, and the idea of returning to the scene of her recent crime made her feel like vomiting.

The decision was made for her on Friday afternoon, during Unit 919’s follow-up session on their civic tasks. Holliday had a bee in her bonnet about the wedding and was insisting that Morrigan absolutely had to attend. So, naturally, on her way out of Proudfoot House that afternoon, Morrigan ticked the ‘ I am regretfully unable to attend’ box on the invite without another moment’s thought, sealed it in the provided pre-addressed envelope, and dropped it into the outgoing mail pile in the Commissariat.

She knew she was being contrary, and she wasn’t exactly proud of it. But after her week had gone so egregiously pear-shaped, this small act of rebellion made her feel like she’d clawed back some control over her life.

Morrigan fell asleep on Friday night certain she’d made the right decision, only to wake on Saturday morning with a small, sinking regret in her stomach. All through breakfast she tried to ignore the sensation and enjoy her waffles, making detailed plans to stay distracted all day.

First on her agenda was helping Charlie, the transport manager, to polish the Deucalion’s small fleet of pink and gold motorcars, something he did in the forecourt every Saturday. Charlie was delighted to have company and, mistaking Morrigan’s keenness to keep busy for a genuine interest in motoring, regaled her with his opinions on every luxury vehicle to hit the market in the past ten years. (Morrigan found that if she interjected with the occasional, ‘Oh, wow’ or ‘That sounds cool’, he kept filling the silence quite cheerfully.)

‘The Leonine RS5, now that’s the real star of the new Atherton line,’ Charlie told her as he vigorously buffed a side mirror. ‘Zero to a hundred in five seconds. Vertical acceleration, too – you can drive it up the side of a building for a hundred metres!’

‘Oh, wow.’

‘And the fireball capabilities are incredibly advanced from the RS4 – still nothing compared to the Bello Quixote, but – oh my sweet sultana scone , is that an Aurora ?!’

‘That sounds cool.’

Charlie made a spluttering sound. ‘It is! That is an AURORA AMPHIBIA SPRINT! Oh my word , I can’t believe it. Do you know how much they’re worth? There are only a dozen in existence. Martha has to see this! I’ll be right back – do NOT let that car leave!’

Charlie disappeared into the lobby, leaving Morrigan to stare at the grand open-top motorcar that had just swung into the forecourt, its silvery-green paint shining iridescent swirls in the sunlight.

Before the engine had even stopped, a familiar young woman in an extravagant bridal gown and veil leapt from the passenger seat and ran for the front steps. Eyes red-rimmed and face streaked with mascara, Lady Modestine Evelyn Darling came to a sudden halt in front of Morrigan .

‘I was only eight when she left us,’ Lady Modestine blurted out, her huge eyes filled with emotion. ‘It was … the worst day of my entire life. She was my favourite person in the whole wide world, and she never even said goodbye to me.’

Morrigan stood very still. She didn’t know what to say. Her aunt took a timid step towards her, then another.

‘Today …’ Modestine went on in a whisper. Her chin wobbled, but she fought to bring it under control. ‘Morrigan, today is my wedding day . Merry should be here. She should be here to fix my veil before I walk into the chapel, and to tell me how pretty I look and that she’s proud of me and that everything … that everything is going to be okay.’

She glanced back at the man in the driver’s seat, who Morrigan thought must be the groom. He wore a black tuxedo with a little white flower fastened to the lapel and was watching Modestine with obvious concern.

‘When they told me Meredith had a daughter, and that you were here in Nevermoor, where you belong … it was almost like hearing Merry herself had come home. Because …’ She frowned, gripping a handful of her dress as she rounded up her thoughts. ‘Because you’re a part of her, Morrigan, and she was a part of me, and … well. Goodness. Don’t you think that means we’re a part of each other?’

‘Yes,’ said Morrigan, and found that she meant it. ‘I suppose it … could mean that.’

Her aunt smiled at her through fresh tears. ‘I know Mama behaved dreadfully the other day. We all told her so after you left. But she’s a hedgehog, really.’

‘A hedgehog?’

‘Mmm, prickly on the outside but with a very soft underbelly,’ she said, laughing shakily. ‘I’m sure she wants to know you just as desperately as I do, Morrigan. As we all do. Oh please, please change your mind and say you’ll come.’

Morrigan chewed on the side of her mouth. What could she possibly say to that, except—

‘Of course I will.’

Lady Modestine squealed with happiness and pulled her into a crushing hug. Her perfume was strong and sweet, and made Morrigan a little dizzy. She felt her hand gripped tight and suddenly she was being pulled towards the Aurora.

‘Wait! I can’t go like this – I’m wearing dungarees! I need to—’

‘Open the boot, darling!’ Modestine called to the driver, and it popped open to reveal at least a dozen dresses in various shades, fabrics and styles, all in Morrigan’s size and all far too expensive looking to be stuffed so haphazardly into the boot of a car. ‘There’s a little room in the back of the chapel where you can change, but darling I’m afraid we must hurry … I’m supposed to be saying my vows in five minutes! Dario will be ever so worried.’

Morrigan glanced at the driver. ‘That’s not Dario?’

Modestine trilled with laughter. ‘ Dario? Heavens no! It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before they meet at the altar. That’s Sunny.’

‘Sunil Ghoshal, best man,’ he called from the driver’s seat, giving a little salute. ‘A pleasure to meet you. Apologies for the ambush.’ He smiled sheepishly.

Modestine pulled out a gown that could only be described as pastry-like: a puffy, peach-coloured confection of many layers and impressive volume. She gave a gasp of great rapture. ‘ This one! Oh, it’s divine . With your lovely dark hair? It’s so perfect I could cry, I could just cry .’

Morrigan tried to arrange her face so that it didn’t telegraph the full extent of her horror. ‘Yes, so could I.’

Lady Modestine began ushering her into the car just as Charlie returned, tugging a bemused Martha towards the shimmering Aurora.

‘What’s going on here?’ Martha asked sharply, running down the last few steps. ‘Morrigan, are you … being kidnapped?’

‘Um, no,’ Morrigan assured her from the backseat, holding up the dress. ‘I think I’m … going to a wedding.’

‘We really must dash!’ Modestine clambered into the front seat, squishing folds of white silk organza around her until it looked like she was sitting in an overfilled bubble bath, then turned to wave at a concerned-looking Martha and Charlie. ‘But I promise we’ll take the very best care of dear Morrigan! We’ll bring her back tomorrow!’

Sunny pulled out of the forecourt with a screech of tyres. As they sped down Humdinger Avenue, Modestine threw her hands in the air, veil streaming behind her, and shouted elatedly, ‘I’M GETTING MARRIED TODAY, NEVERMOOR! AND MY NIECE IS COMING TO MY WEDDING!’

Sunny shook his head, laughing. ‘Put your seatbelt on, you’re going to give me a heart attack.’

Morrigan couldn’t help grinning at her aunt’s unrestrained, contagious joy, and as she leaned back into the wind, she felt a little of her own unease melt away.

She was on her way to a family wedding , of all things! Right here in Nevermoor. In that moment she decided that, even wearing the peach puff-pastry travesty, she was going to enjoy every minute.