proud.
Marcia waved her arm in the direction of the tarpaulin. “I see you have already begun,” she said, a little disapprovingly. She forced herself to refrain from adding that Marcellus had agreed not to begin building the chimney until the Great Chamber of Alchemie had been reopened.
Septimus saw Marcellus give a guilty start. “Goodness! What, um, makes you say that?”
“Well, I should have thought it was obvious—that rubbish at the end of Ceremonial Way.”
Septimus saw a look of relief fly across Marcellus’s face. “Ah. The chimney ,” he said. “I’m merely making preparations. I know you do not wish to keep the Two-Faced Ring for longer than necessary. Keeping that ring safe must be a nightmare.”
As she had promised Sarah, Marcia made an effort. “Yes, it is. But at least we have it, Marcellus. Thanks to you.”
Septimus looked impressed. His mother had done a remarkable job, he thought.
Marcellus felt encouraged. He decided to ask a favor. “I wonder, Marcia, if you would object to a change of name?”
Marcia was flummoxed. “I am perfectly happy with Marcia,” she said.
“No, no—I mean the Ceremonial Way. In the old days when the Great Chamber was operating and we had the chimney at the end of it—as we soon will again—it used to be called Alchemie Way. I wonder if you would allow it to resume its old name?”
“Oh,” said Marcia. “Well, I suppose so. It was called Alchemie Way before so it is only right that it is Alchemie Way once more.”
“Thank you!” Marcellus beamed. “And soon Alchemie Way will lead to the newly built Alchemie Chimney.” He sighed. “Well, it will when the builders bother to turn up.” A sudden outbreak of cheering and clapping signaled that the wedding party was beginning to head off to the Palace. Marcellus slipped away before Marcia had a chance to ask any more awkward questions.
Marcia felt dismal. An evening spent with a mixture of Heaps and Gringes did not figure anywhere on her good-nights-out list—not even at the very bottom. She glanced back longingly toward the Wizard Tower, wondering if she could make a run for it.
Septimus intercepted her glance. “You can’t leave now . That would be very rude,” he told her sternly.
“Of course I’m not leaving now,” Marcia said tartly. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
The wedding supper carried on late into the night. Heaps and Gringes did not always mix well and there were a few tricky moments, particularly when Mrs. Gringe put the duck stew suggestion to Sarah Heap. But nothing, not even Mrs. Gringe’s insistence that it would be no trouble at all to take the duck home, and seeing as it was nice and plump it would do enough for everyone and she could bring the stew over the next day to save Sarah the bother of cooking could dent Sarah’s happiness for long. She had all her children with her for the first time ever , and that was enough for her.
Marcia was surprised to find that her evening was not as bad as she had feared. After some very tedious speeches by various increasingly merry Heap uncles, a welcome distraction appeared. Through the long windows of the Ballroom, which reached to the floor and looked out across the Palace lawns down to the river, a barge ablaze with lights was seen drawing up at the Palace landing stage.
“Goodness, who can that be?” Marcia commented to Jenna, who was sitting next to her.
Jenna knew who it was. “It’s my father. Late as usual.”
“Oh, how nice,” said Marcia. And then, hurriedly, “Not nice that he is late, of course. Nice that he has made it to the wedding.”
“Just about,” said Jenna.
Silas and the four Heap uncles, glad of an excuse to escape, went to inspect the barge and escort Milo back to the wedding supper. He arrived resplendent in what some people thought was the dress uniform of an Admiral of the Fleet and others were sure they had seen in the window of a fancy dress shop in the Port—but whatever it was
Marcia waved her arm in the direction of the tarpaulin. “I see you have already begun,” she said, a little disapprovingly. She forced herself to refrain from adding that Marcellus had agreed not to begin building the chimney until the Great Chamber of Alchemie had been reopened.
Septimus saw Marcellus give a guilty start. “Goodness! What, um, makes you say that?”
“Well, I should have thought it was obvious—that rubbish at the end of Ceremonial Way.”
Septimus saw a look of relief fly across Marcellus’s face. “Ah. The chimney ,” he said. “I’m merely making preparations. I know you do not wish to keep the Two-Faced Ring for longer than necessary. Keeping that ring safe must be a nightmare.”
As she had promised Sarah, Marcia made an effort. “Yes, it is. But at least we have it, Marcellus. Thanks to you.”
Septimus looked impressed. His mother had done a remarkable job, he thought.
Marcellus felt encouraged. He decided to ask a favor. “I wonder, Marcia, if you would object to a change of name?”
Marcia was flummoxed. “I am perfectly happy with Marcia,” she said.
“No, no—I mean the Ceremonial Way. In the old days when the Great Chamber was operating and we had the chimney at the end of it—as we soon will again—it used to be called Alchemie Way. I wonder if you would allow it to resume its old name?”
“Oh,” said Marcia. “Well, I suppose so. It was called Alchemie Way before so it is only right that it is Alchemie Way once more.”
“Thank you!” Marcellus beamed. “And soon Alchemie Way will lead to the newly built Alchemie Chimney.” He sighed. “Well, it will when the builders bother to turn up.” A sudden outbreak of cheering and clapping signaled that the wedding party was beginning to head off to the Palace. Marcellus slipped away before Marcia had a chance to ask any more awkward questions.
Marcia felt dismal. An evening spent with a mixture of Heaps and Gringes did not figure anywhere on her good-nights-out list—not even at the very bottom. She glanced back longingly toward the Wizard Tower, wondering if she could make a run for it.
Septimus intercepted her glance. “You can’t leave now . That would be very rude,” he told her sternly.
“Of course I’m not leaving now,” Marcia said tartly. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
The wedding supper carried on late into the night. Heaps and Gringes did not always mix well and there were a few tricky moments, particularly when Mrs. Gringe put the duck stew suggestion to Sarah Heap. But nothing, not even Mrs. Gringe’s insistence that it would be no trouble at all to take the duck home, and seeing as it was nice and plump it would do enough for everyone and she could bring the stew over the next day to save Sarah the bother of cooking could dent Sarah’s happiness for long. She had all her children with her for the first time ever , and that was enough for her.
Marcia was surprised to find that her evening was not as bad as she had feared. After some very tedious speeches by various increasingly merry Heap uncles, a welcome distraction appeared. Through the long windows of the Ballroom, which reached to the floor and looked out across the Palace lawns down to the river, a barge ablaze with lights was seen drawing up at the Palace landing stage.
“Goodness, who can that be?” Marcia commented to Jenna, who was sitting next to her.
Jenna knew who it was. “It’s my father. Late as usual.”
“Oh, how nice,” said Marcia. And then, hurriedly, “Not nice that he is late, of course. Nice that he has made it to the wedding.”
“Just about,” said Jenna.
Silas and the four Heap uncles, glad of an excuse to escape, went to inspect the barge and escort Milo back to the wedding supper. He arrived resplendent in what some people thought was the dress uniform of an Admiral of the Fleet and others were sure they had seen in the window of a fancy dress shop in the Port—but whatever it was
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