‘Someone very important. That’s all you—’
‘Monsieur Halton-Jones! Perhaps you would like to give us your insights into the structure of these opening chapters?’
‘Madame Lefèvre, of course!’ Richard threw the teacher a dazzling smile and cleared his throat, flipping open his notebook.
She’d probably imagined it, thought Cassie: the nervous relief on Madame’s face. A little flushed, as if she’d got away with heinous cheek by daring to scold a member of the Few. A pulse throbbing fast in her temple.
Richard stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. ‘Poor Quasimodo,’ he began. ‘The tragedy is foreshadowed from the outset …’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There was too much on Cassie’s mind. Her thoughts and suspicions were chaotic, and she knew no more about Victor Hugo than she had an hour ago. At this rate she’d be expelled for incompetence before she discovered a thing. Students pushed past her in the corridor, rushing to their next class, but Cassie found she had to walk slowly, thinking furiously, examining her options.
Richard wouldn’t have mentioned the possibility of her becoming one of the Few if he didn’t mean it seriously; she was sure of that. Thinking of Isabella, her conscience twanged painfully. If Cassie was invited to join the Few, would her roommate be terribly hurt? Should she confide in Isabella, or leave her in blissful, safe ignorance? And how risky was it to let herself be recruited? Distracted, Cassie barely knew where she was, let alone which class she was heading for.
Which was why she nearly jumped out of her skin when the door opened at her side.
She came to a dead halt, heart thumping.
‘Cassie! I hoped I’d catch you.’
The mellifluous voice was instantly recognisable, as were the height and the presence. Just as well, since she was so close she was gaping only at his blazer buttons and his chic silk tie.
‘Hello, Sir Alric.’ She blinked up into the starkly handsome face.
‘Lost again?’ he asked mischievously.
She shook her head. Beyond him she glimpsed his office. Dark-green curtains were swagged back with gold cords. A vast mahogany desk took up most of one wall, beyond an expanse of thick carpet. In the middle of the room was a smaller table, Sèvres porcelain cups and a silver teapot perched on top; two pale-yellow armchairs huddled close around it like old friends. In one of them sat a recognisable figure who laughed lightly and clapped her frail hands together.
‘Cassandra, my dear.’ Estelle Azzedine didn’t try to stand. ‘How lovely! Are you enjoying the Academy?’
‘Great. Fine. I mean, I love it.’ Cassie smiled awkwardly back. ‘Hello, Madame Azzedine.’
‘Estelle.’ Wagging a finger, Madame Azzedine gave her a playful frown.
Sir Alric looked from one to the other. ‘You’ve met?’
‘On Cassandra’s very first day. She was kind enough to help me up the steps.’
He gave the old woman an amused smile. ‘Did she, indeed? And speaking of your first day, Cassie, when we finally met this week I was reminded of how long you had been at the Academy before I introduced myself. Allow me to make up for my bad manners. Do join us for tea.’
Nervously she checked her watch. ‘But I’ve got—’
‘A class with Mr Chelnikov? Don’t worry about that. Marat!’
Cassie almost leaped sideways. The squat porter had appeared silently at her back. He wore a baleful expression on his stony face.
‘Marat. Please inform Gospodin Chelnikov that Miss Bell is excused his class for today. I wish to speak to her. Apologise to him on my behalf.’
Marat nodded once, silent, and turned away.
‘Come in, Cassie.’ Sir Alric closed the heavy door and pulled up another chair opposite Madame Azzedine, who winked at Cassie.
‘What a lovely treat for me. Young company. Are you making the most of the school’s opportunities as I recommended, Cassandra?’
‘Yes. I mean …’ With a pang of guilt, Cassie remembered the last wasted hour. ‘I’m trying.’ She shrugged ruefully.
‘And succeeding very well. Cassie is extremely able in a wide range of subjects.’ Sir Alric gave her an approving glance. ‘I think I can safely say she is one of the most deserving scholarship students we have ever had.’
‘How marvellous!’ Madame Azzedine sat a little straighter. ‘Intelligent, then?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Sir Alric, pouring tea steadily into a delicate cup for Cassie.
‘And very pretty, too! What striking looks you have, my dear. I have never seen eyes of such an unusual colour. Don’t you think so, Sir Alric?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it.’ He smiled at Cassie, almost complicitly. ‘I dare say you’re right. Cassie, what I really wanted to talk about was the other night. It worries me that you don’t sleep well. And I hope what you saw didn’t … upset you. I meant what I said about coming to me with any problems.’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she said cheerfully, pleased they’d finished with the subject of her looks. ‘I never did sleep well. And there were a lot more problems at Cranlake Crescent.’
‘Ah. Of course. I expect life didn’t always go smoothly there.’ He looked at her kindly.
Just as she decided she really liked him, Madame Azzedine butted in again. ‘Tell me about this, Cassandra. You have had a difficult life, yes?’