The Secret Prince Part 41

"What's that?"

"If you ever throw a chess match against me again, Grim, I get to use it on you."

Henry grinned. "Fair enough," he said.

The school term came to a close, as school terms tend to do, though they sometimes seem determined to plod on forever. Students brought their textbooks outside and studied for their exams under the shade of the gnarled old oaks trees, and the heat made it a bother to put on jackets each morning.

Theobold hadn't forgotten that night in the common room, and he'd taken to referring to Henry and Valmont as "the prince and the pauper" whenever he saw them playing chess before bed. Henry sighed and set his jaw, refusing to let Theobold's taunts goad him.

One afternoon Derrick put together a game of croquet and dared everyone to whack the b.a.l.l.s into the boys who were studying outdoors. No one took him up on the dare, although Edmund hit a ball at Geoffrey Sutton by accident.

Henry had never played croquet before, and was relieved to find it far easier to master than cricket. It was strange, thinking that he'd be back. That after the long stretch of the summer holiday, he'd return as a second year, with a room on a different corridor, and with Sir Robert as their head of year.

Sir Robert had been named the new chief examiner, and while the Knightley Exam wasn't open to commoners, the school had decided to reserve the now traditional three places for any fourteen-year-olds who wished to sit the exam in the National Gallery.

Somehow the shock over the pa.s.sing of Lord Havelock had receded. But it was still there, the hovering ghostly memory of his death, creeping up behind Henry as he studied for the military history exam given by Lord Ewing, the temporary tutor.

The battle society did not meet again before exams, and often Henry saw Valmont slip out to the graveyard beyond the woods before supper, as though he preferred the company of the dead to that of his cla.s.smates.

After his last exam, Henry turned up on the doorstep of the headmaster's house. He hadn't visited in ages, but he'd needed the time, both to catch up on his studies and to come to terms with everything that had happened.

Ellen opened the door and curtsied.

"Come in, Master Henry!" she said, ushering him into the foyer. "Can I take yer coat? Will yeh be requirin' tea?"

Henry shook his head. "I'm fine, Ellen. Thank you."

That had been happening more and more. Henry had gone down to the kitchens to ask for some tea and biscuits one evening, and the maids had panicked. Liza had quickly shooed him out of the kitchen with a full lemon tart he hadn't wanted, and not a bit of gossip.

Somehow Henry rather suspected that they knew. Theobold's taunts hadn't gone unnoticed, and though no one dared to ask him directly, more than once a group of students had fallen silent as Henry had walked past.

After all, with the relentless fear of a Nordlandic invasion, it wasn't exactly the best time for it to come out that he was Nordlandic-or for there to be whispers that he'd run off to the Nordlands for nearly two weeks, returning with a coffin containing their head of year. And then there was the way Henry hadn't marched in the parade, and the way he always seemed to set Professor Turveydrop into a panic during protocol....

Sometimes Henry wished that he could explain. But to explain would be to cause the exact sort of attention that Lord Mortensen had cautioned them against. At least he still had the group of friends he'd made that term. And so he had silently endured the changes, and the way so many of the other students, who had once been friendly, now regarded him with suspicion.

Ellen led him up the grand staircase and down the hallway to Professor Stratford's study. There were voices, but she threw open the door anyway.

Professor Stratford looked up. He was evaluating Frankie on a piece of French poetry. She scowled at the interruption and continued with her recitation.

Henry had to admit that, from what he heard, she truly hadn't needed tutoring in French.

"Formidable, Mademoiselle Winter," Professor Stratford said once Frankie had finished. He laid down his book. "Dix-huit."

Frankie flushed at the praise. "Are we finished, Professor?" she asked.

He nodded.

"I've just finished my exams as well," Henry said.

"So you're leaving tomorrow," Frankie said. It wasn't a question.

"Lord Marchbanks is sending his driver. It's a nightmare. No wonder Derrick warned me I'd hate it."

"It'll be good for you," Professor Stratford said. "You'll get to see how the aristocracy live."

"I'd rather work in the bookshop."

"You can come and visit," the professor promised.

"Only for the summer," Henry complained. "And next year- I don't want to lose either of you. It isn't fair."

"My services are no longer needed," Professor Stratford said lightly. "And it's a curious thing, change. You never get used to it, and you're never sure where it comes from-"

"But you better learn to expect it," Henry finished.

Professor Stratford nodded, and Henry could see that he was pleased.

"I know," Henry said. "I just wish it didn't have to be that way."

Henry bit his lip at the thought of Frankie going off to finis.h.i.+ng school. He'd known about it for a week, but that didn't make it ache any less to know that the carefree days of Frankie climbing through his window were long gone.

"It's only because of my blasted grandmother," Frankie put in. "She knows I loathe finis.h.i.+ng school. She's sending me as a punishment for running away."

"Good thing she doesn't know about the kiss, or you'd be sent to a reformatory," Henry muttered.

"Kiss?" Frankie frowned. "Now, Mr. Grim, I don't think I know what you're talking about. Perhaps you ought to refresh my memory?"

At this, Professor Stratford cleared his throat, but he wasn't truly upset.

After all, how could he be? This was the last time Henry would be able to ring the doorbell after lessons, the final trip to the headmaster's house. For in the fall these rooms would be empty. Frankie was leaving for finis.h.i.+ng school, and Professor Stratford was moving on, and the triple room on the first-floor corridor would gain new occupants while Rohan went off to room with James. And no matter how hard they pretended it was just the final day of term, it was more than that-it was the end of an era.

end.