Villainess 3: Rosalie Strikes Back
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Red Pill 12: Luncheons, Tests
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Homeroom 2 ended with Viscountess Durham saying, “Behave yourselves while I’m away,” and the class replied that they would as she headed through the double doors to another classroom somewhere in the campus building. Janet was back in her seat next to Sir Kevin Sydney, yet when the viscountess left, Janet’s classmates asked questions about what had transpired in the hallway during Homeroom 2. First, a daughter of a count asked if Janet and the Prince had fallen out with each other, and the daughter of a margrave asked if the Prince tried to hurt her, and a son of a knight asked if Janet had done anything to provoke the Prince, and the daughter of another count asked if she had bullied Rosalie again, and still more questions continued from other students.
Under the onslaught of questions, Janet couldn’t put in an answer, so Sir Kevin Sydney slammed the table with his fist and said, “Hey, stop harassing her!”
“We’re not ‘harassing her,’” the son of a knight said in the next seat before Janet’s table. “We just wanna know what happened, that’s all.”
“Then ask one by one,” Kevin said.
“Okay, okay,” he said.
And one by one, they asked, and Janet answered them in as straight a face as she could maintain in front of her classmates, which was wearing thin by the time she was defending herself against the Prince’s conduct in connection to that vixen. Yet she couldn’t afford to antagonize Rosalie in her new class, so she did the next best thing: she antagonized the Prince, pulling back her sleeve and showing them the bruise he had left yesterday morning in Classroom 1-3C.
“Did his Highness really do that?” said a skeptical count’s daughter. “Or did you do it to spite him?”
“He grabbed me in front of the whole class,” she said, “but none of them said anything. They’re all lemmings, and they’re under the Prince’s thumb.”
Then Sir Kevin Sydney said, “You were talking with Viscountess Durham earlier. What did she say?”
Janet was about to speak—
When a bespectacled Baron Simeon Underwood, the young professor of Classics Studies, entered through the double doors with books in his hands and plopped them on a side table near the lectern. Baron Underwood was the lanky book-hoarding graduate teaching assistant in Lassen Academy, now in his last year of study and seeking partial tenure as an adjunct professor under the guidance of Viscountess Kelly Durham.
He said, “All right, settle down. It’s time for the wonderful world of literature and poetry!”
The class groaned.
And for the next forty-five minutes, Janet endured the driest literature class she had ever sat through, fighting to stay awake. In fact, the only thing keeping her awake was the copious amount of notes she took like a secretary, while the rest of her classmates vacationed in their sleep (including Janet’s six clones sleeping while standing in their corner of the classroom, while the seventh clone had come in to inform the suicide clone of the goings-on in Classroom 1-3C, only to fall asleep herself). That whole time, Janet took notes under hypnosis, till their collective sleep uplifted from the class when Baron Underwood’s lecture ended, and everyone awoke as if from an enchanted slumber. Hell, even Janet’s clones opened their eyes and stretched their limbs and started yawning in their corner, and only then did the seventh clone start informing her suicide captain of the goings-on in the classroom full of lemmings before heading back out again.
Janet looked up from her notes and saw Baron Andrew Palmer consoling the graduate student on his inexplicable misfortune of putting students to sleep during his lectures. Baron Underwood nodded at something Baron Palmer said, then picked up his books and left the classroom with his shoulders stooped and his head hung low like a man heading to the stocks.
Then Baron Palmer approached Janet’s table and said, “How are you feeling, Lady Fleming?”
“I’m doing better,” she said.
The man nodded and said, “Good, that’s good. By the way, Lady Durham has assigned Sir Sydney here and Lord Woodberry to accompany you during school hours while on campus. I hope that’s to your satisfaction?”
Janet looked over at Kevin and said, “It is, thank you. By the way,” she added, “what happened to the Prince?”
“He’s been reprimanded,” Baron Palmer said and bowed to her at the waist. “Viscountess Durham told me everything, and after grilling my students for what happened yesterday, I regret not being there to stop it. Lady Fleming, I apologize for his Highness’s actions against you today and yesterday.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Janet said.
“Did he hurt you?” he said.
“He left a few bruises on my wrist,” she said, showing him the bruises she had shown to her new class.
Baron Palmer winced and said, “I’ll report this to his Majesty after classes end.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded and returned to the lectern in front of the class, where he summoned an old leather-bound book there with a snap of his fingers and opened it to a designated page and said, “All right, everyone. Open your books to page one thirty-five. . . .”
And for the next forty-five minutes, Janet took notes on Baron Palmer’s lesson on the mirror-like nature of the mind, writing down his observations in her own words and noticing a parallel with DeeDee’s observations on residual hauntings in her shop. In fact, the Baron’s observations got Janet thinking of her suicide double’s last moments alive through the bathroom mirror and the residual effects of her double’s memories controlling her body and making her reenact that godless walk towards the staircase railing three stories above the ground floor, where her double had jumped to her death. Something in that parallel touched her like fingers strumming a harp, so when the professor ended the lesson and assigned readings and asked if anyone had last-minute questions or comments, she raised her hand.
“What about hauntings?” she said.
“Can you be more specific, Lady Fleming?”
“If the mind is a mirror of our experiences and dreams,” Janet said, “then what are hauntings a reflection of?”
“That’s an interesting way to put it,” the Baron said. “Viscountess Durham and I have talked about hauntings a few times. We may differ on some minor aspects, but we both agree that we live in a haunted world of psychic and emotional disturbances. I tend to think of it in nautical terms. We’re all boats on the same sea creating our own wakes as we pass from one point to another, and more often than not, we cross the wakes of others and feel the residual dip and swell of their impressions on the water. That’s what hauntings are.”
“Because the sea is a mirror,” Janet said as the connections revealed themselves to her.
“Ah, yes, exactly,” he said. “Seen from an omnipotent vantage point, the sea or any other large body of water can become a mirror. I’m curious, Lady Fleming. What made you think about hauntings?”
Janet looked into Baron Palmer’s eyes before averting them and saying, “I had a lot to think about over the last few days, and hauntings are just one of them.”
“Interesting,” he said, then to the rest of the class: “Any other questions before I go?”
Some students asked more questions, and Baron Palmer answered them. And when nobody else had any more questions, the professor bowed to his class and reminded them to read the assigned chapters for tomorrow and exited through the double doors for lunch at the Professor Commons Office.
With that, the students rose from their seats and exited the double doors on their way to the cafeteria for their Lunch Period, but Kevin Sydney stayed put with Janet. And along with the pair, Janet’s suicide clone stayed behind at the corner, while the other five clones went ahead around the corner and through the halls to act as lookouts, and the seventh clone came back into the classroom once again and informed the suicide double of the goings-on at Classroom 1-3C.
Taking up her book bag, Janet rose from her seat and turned to her table mate, saying, “Will you accompany me to lunch?”
“Only if you answer my question,” he said.
“What question?” she said.
“You were talking with Viscountess Durham earlier,” Kevin said. “What did she say?”
“Oh, that,” she said, recollecting her thoughts on the conversation she and the viscountess had shared in Homeroom 2. “All the brouhaha this morning has been resolved, but I need someone to accompany me through the halls. I don’t want to wait for his Highness to send someone to come and fetch me, so would you accompany me? It would only be for today.”
“All right,” he said and got up, “but what exactly did Viscountess Durham say about it?”
“You don't need to concern yourself with that,” she said and headed for the double doors.
“But I want to know,” he said, following her.
Janet paused before the threshold of the double doors, wondering why he was so interested in that all of the sudden, and said, “I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“Is there something troubling you?”
“You’re nosy,” she said.
“And you’re delaying,” Sir Kevin Sydney said. “Don’t be coy now. You can trust me. We share the same table, right?”
Janet paused and waited for her suicide clone.
(“It’s okay,” her clone said.
“Can I really trust him?” she said.
“We need to start somewhere, you know,” her clone said.)
“Lady Fleming?” Kevin said.
“All right,” Janet said and exited the classroom and turned the corner down the main hallway. “I’ll tell you, but promise me not to tell anyone else.”
He followed her, saying, “I promise.”
And so, with her seven clones now acting as lookouts along the way, she talked about Viscountess Durham’s investigation and the way Miss Edgeworth seems to have the Prince wrapped up around her finger to the point of being “lovey-dovey” and “disgusting” (Viscountess Durham’s words) whenever she started crying. To that, Sir Keven Sydney said he had also noticed the change in the Prince’s demeanor whenever Kevin asked the Prince about Miss Edgeworth, becoming suspicious and guarded like a jealous husband. When Janet asked him what he meant by that, Kevin said that he had been friends with Prince Blaise since their boyhood days of ghost stories and scare pranks, but only on entering this Academy did he notice the change in the Prince’s behavior. On their way past Janet’s old homeroom towards the top of the stairs, they met up with Lord Ridley Woodberry waiting for them beside the balustrade, who said that Baron Palmer and Viscountess Durham had asked him to accompany Janet in the hallways in between classes and even during lunch and that Prince Blaise had ordered him to keep Janet from going anywhere near Rosalie while at school.
(And with Lord Woodberry were three more of Janet’s clones tailing him, one of which approached Janet’s suicide clone and whispered something into her ear. Her suicide clone nodded and faced Janet, saying, “Prepare yourself.”
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“For what?” she said. “What’s going on now?”
“Go to the cafeteria,” her clone said, “and you’ll see.”
“Don’t be cryptic,” Janet said. “If it has anything to do with that scheming two-face, just tell me!”
“It won’t look authentic,” she said, “if you go in knowing beforehand, trust me.”
“Why is that?” Janet said. “Is there something I—”
“Just trust us, okay? We’re with you. DeeDee’s with you,” her suicide double said before descending the stairs without giving Janet a chance to say anything.)
So two young men and one young woman and ten ghost clones descended both flights of stairs, her clones leading the way with two clones moving ahead to the double doors leading into the Student Commons Cafeteria. All the while, Janet wondered what her suicide double meant, whether it had anything to do with Rosalie or DeeDee or both. They walked through the open-plan parlor area and the open double doors of the Cafeteria, where Janet saw a great hall encompassing the space and a rib-vaulted ceiling looming above and more floating lanterns illuminating the buffet area and the columns of long tables occupying the surrounding area.
Clusters of students with food trays were taking food from the buffet trays and finding available seats at the long tables, while the rest were already eating and chatting where they sat. Yet the moment Janet entered, the hubbub died down, and all heads turned towards her. And at the far right corner of the great hall close to the tall windows, where a cluster of people sat around one of the long tables, Janet spied Prince Blaise sitting with Rosalie playing two-face again when she whispered something into the Prince’s ear.
“Let’s get out of here,” Janet said and turned to go—
Till Prince Blaise stood up and said, “Ah, Lady Fleming, why don’t you join us for lunch?”
She looked back over her shoulder, saying, “No, your Highness. If you’re here to pester me, then I’m leaving.”
(Yet her clones crowded around her, and her suicide clone said, “It’s okay, Janet,” and she pointed out three more clones keeping watch over Rosalie at the long table and another three clones watching the Prince from the buffet area, then pointed out a dozen other clones watching the commotion in clusters of three around the cafeteria, which meant that twenty-eight out of the thirty-one clones were now here. “We’re watching everything, and DeeDee’s watching, too.”
So Janet scanned the great hall, saying, “Where is she?”
“I’m not in the cafeteria,” DeeDee said in her mind. “Pray, don’t start, Janet.”
“Where are you?” she said.
“I’m inside my lamp,” DeeDee said. “Now just observe what’s happening, and tell me how you feel. Got it?”
“Got it,” Janet said.)
All the while, Janet’s reply aroused a hubbub of murmurs from those seated at the long tables, most of them saying something about Janet being angry at the Prince’s actions this morning, though some of them defended the Prince, saying that he could never have shown such discourtesy to any lady, even to a lady like Janet.
“Don’t be that way, Lady Fleming,” Prince Blaise said. “I know I’ve acted uncouth towards you this morning, but that’s because of what you did to Rosy,” and he placed his hand on Rosalie’s shoulder and bent over her and whispered something into her ear.
Rosalie smiled and nodded her head.
“Honestly, she’s too kind for her own good,” he said, leaving the long table and approaching Janet as everybody gave him a wide berth, “but I’m not so merciful, especially to those trying to slander me with baseless accusations. They say you showed your class a bruise on your wrist. Is that really true, Lady Fleming? Or did you do it yourself?”
Janet gaped at the Prince’s callousness as her head replayed the very scene of yesterday’s Homeroom 1 at that accursed Classroom 1-3C. So much so, in fact, that Janet was on the verge of saying something awful, like ‘Go screw yourself’ or ‘Fuck off, you two-timing son of a—’
(“Are you angry?” DeeDee said.
“Of course, I am,” Janet said. “He’s being such a prick!”
“Interesting,” DeeDee said. “Keep watching.”
And somewhere inside her mind, Janet heard a rustling of pages and a distinct feeling of fingers flipping the pages of her memories and said, “What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for intrusive thoughts,” DeeDee said, and then the pages stopped turning. “Ah, there it is! Do you remember having a vision in the hallway this morning?”
“Yeah, I do,” Janet said.
“It’s really faint,” DeeDee said, “but Prince Blaise grabbed your hand and brought you to your knees.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have my ways,” DeeDee said.
“Do you know what it means?” Janet said.
“It’s a clue,” DeeDee said.)
Before Janet could ask DeeDee what she meant by that, she saw Lord Woodberry step forward and say, “With all due respect, your Highness, I was there. When Lady Fleming was about to give her engagement ring to Miss Edgeworth, you grabbed her wrist, and she winced.”
“And she used that to play the sympathy card on you,” Prince Blaise said. “You’re too gullible.”
“And you’re conceited,” Lord Woodberry said.
“Says the guy who falls for sympathy cards,” he said, “but let’s not dwell on that. Let me pass.”
“No,” he said.
(“Better intervene,” DeeDee said.
“By why?” Janet said.
“Don’t ask questions,” DeeDee said. “Just do it.”)
So Janet swallowed her qualms, walking up to the two men and facing the Prince and saying, “What do you want from me?”
“Since you wanted to prove your innocence,” the Prince said, “I’ll let you take a truth potion, but it’ll be under my observation.”
“Are you planning to poison me?”
“I’m not a cutthroat, Lady Fleming,” the Prince said.
(“Not yet,” Janet’s suicide clone said.
“I know, right?” Janet said.)
“I just want to make sure there are no variables,” the Prince added, then checked his pocket watch before looking at Lord Woodberry and Sir Sydney and saying, “We have fifty minutes, plenty of time. You two will act as impartial witnesses, so follow me and Lady Fleming to the table,” and he led the way to the long table near the tall windows where Rosalie sat.
Janet looked back on her two companions, then followed the odious Prince towards the long table, where lo and behold! Father Giles Robinson was there, seated at the other end of the long table from Rosalie. Father Giles Robinson, an old man with a bald pate and bushy brows and a small gray mustache, waved Janet over to his side of the table, so Janet came over and noticed a reddish stain on the hem of his black ankle-length cassock and his trembling bony hands on his lap.
“Are you all right, Father?” Janet said.
“I am, dear. Thank you,” he said.
(“He’s lying,” Janet’s suicide double said.
“Janet,” DeeDee said, “what are you feeling from him?”
“I think,” Janet said, “he’s conflicted.”
“Like he doesn’t want to do this?”
“I think so, yeah,” Janet said.
There came a pause before DeeDee said, “Go on with it and pay attention to what happens next.”)
Janet sat by the old man and said, “Are you sure?”
Father Robinson nodded and smiled a weak smile, then dug into a large pocket in his cassock and took out a vial and a small crystal ball, which he wiped over his cassock to remove dust, and set both items on the table.
Father Giles Robinson then pointed to the vial and said, “This contains a truth serum,” and he pointed to the small crystal ball and added, “and that’s a crystal ball for your magic aptitude test. At his Highness’s prompting, I’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone and do your magic aptitude test and truth test at the same time. In both, you need witnesses, and since there are plenty here, we can begin. Do you want to continue, Lady Fleming?”
(“Say yes, Janet,” DeeDee said.)
Janet nodded her head.
“Good,” Father Robinson said and pointed towards the crystal ball. “Put your hand on that and curl your fingers over it,” and when Janet did just that, the man put his bony hand over hers and said, “Now repeat after me: Earth, air, fire, water.”
“‘Earth, air, fire, water,’” she repeated.
And one by one, four holograms appeared behind them, the first hologram showing a tree growing in the ground, the second showing clouds in the sky, the third showing a blazing fire, and the fourth showing a placid sea or lake.
“Light, darkness, aether,” he said.
“‘Light, darkness, aether,’” she repeated.
And one by one, three more holograms appeared behind them, the first showing a brilliant sun, the second showing a night sky, and the third showing a smoky luminescence with a greenish tint.
“Reveal your secrets to me. Selah,” he said.
“‘Reveal your secrets to me. Selah,’” she repeated.
And the crystal flashed in Janet’s grasp, filling half of the great hall with light, till it became too hot, and Janet let go of it. Then the light began dissipating like the drowsiness from a sleeper’s eyes, and in the afterimage of those seven holograms, one manifested in the crystal ball and threw up its image from the table as its own hologram. The green and smoky luminescence swirled above Janet’s head, then came into focus and solidified into the form of DeeDee’s large lamp.
(“DeeDee, is that your lamp?” Janet said.
DeeDee breathed out a sigh and said, “Yes, it’s mine.”
“Who are you, anyway?” she said.
“If you must know,” DeeDee said, “then I’ll tell you, but don’t tell anyone else about me, except for those you trust. I’m the Guardian of the Aether, one of the overseers of the astral realm, and one of the deities of this world.”
“Is that why it’s green?”
“Yes,” DeeDee said. “Now pay attention. He’s calling you.”)
That’s when Janet was brought back to reality amidst a jumble of words she couldn’t make out, so Janet said, “I’m sorry, Father. What were you saying?”
“I said you have the aether as your element,” Father Robinson said, “and judging from the color of that lamp, you seem to have the protection of its guardian deity. Do you know her name?”
“It’s DeeDee, right?” Janet said.
Father Giles Robinson smiled and said, “I can’t see spirits like you can, but I can read your thoughts through the spell I’ve made you repeat. Is DeeDee watching over us?”
(“Say yes, Janet,” DeeDee said.)
“Yes,” Janet said.
“Ah, I can even hear her voice,” the cleric said and looked into Janet’s eyes. “And what a lovely voice she has, too. And is she speaking with you right now?”
(“Say yes,” DeeDee said.)
Janet nodded and said, “Yes, she is.”
“And did she give you a pendant?” the cleric said.
Again, Janet said yes under his gaze.
“What is she saying now?” Father Robinson said.
(“Don’t test me, old man,” DeeDee said.)
Right then, the cleric averted his eyes and grimaced and said, “Sorry, that was forward of me. Anyway,” he added with a sigh as if he wasn’t looking forward to this one bit, “now comes the part I find unpleasant,” and he took up the vial and opened the lid and gave it to Janet. “Drink it and place your hand on the crystal like before.”
So Janet did just that, enclosing her fingers over its glassy surface and dissipating the hologram of DeeDee’s lamp above the table and severing Father Robinson’s telepathic connection to her, and said, “Like this?”
“Yes, that’s it,” he said and placed his hand over hers like before. “Now repeat after me: I solemnly swear.”
“‘I solemnly swear,’” she repeated.
“That I will tell the truth,” he said.
“‘That I will tell the truth,’” she repeated.
“The whole truth,” he said.
“‘The whole truth,’” she repeated.
“And nothing but the truth. Selah,” he said.
“’And nothing but the truth. Selah,’” she repeated.
“Now, your Highness,” Father Robinson said to the Prince, “you may question her at will,” and he stood up and stepped aside and said to Janet, “Meanwhile, Lady Fleming, keep your hand on that crystal as he questions you, and don’t let go, lest you perjure yourself in front of witnesses and the very goddess under whose protection you claim. Do you understand?”
(“Okay, Janet,” DeeDee said. “From what I’ve found out in the profiles of your clones, the ‘Rosalie Edgeworth’ sitting at the table is a fake. I know this, because in all the profile entries involving Rosalie’s involvement against your clones, I’ve seen four of the seven elements (earth, air, fire, and water) used in their deaths or in false incriminations that led to their deaths.”
“You’re kidding,” Janet said.
“I’m not,” DeeDee said. “Whoever this fake Rosalie is used water magic to mix poison into the glass that killed one of your clones during midterms, and she used fire magic to implicate another clone of arson in Guinevere House, and she used earth magic to harass another clone during school hours that led to escalating confrontations with her and the Prince and resulted in your clone’s false imprisonment, and she even used air magic to hobble herself in order to implicate yet another clone of assault, which was later trumped up to attempted murder. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
“My God,” Janet said to herself. “If she could use all those elements, then what about the original?”
“The Rosalie I know could only use light magic,” DeeDee said, “but from what I’ve researched so far, I’m betting that this fake Rosalie got away with all of those crimes, because she’s still listed as a light magic user in her school records. That means all of the magic she had used in each of those cases to frame you couldn’t be traced back to her.”
“But that’s impossible,” Janet said. “How can she forge a magic aptitude test?”
“You don’t have to,” DeeDee said, “if you’ve got the original results in your possession.”
“From the original Rosalie?” Janet said.
“Yeah,” DeeDee said, “but I can’t know for sure till I obtain the original Rosalie’s profile book. Now pay attention to your own predicament, Janet. I think Rosalie’s gonna use fire magic to manipulate that crystal and make you look like you’ve perjured yourself if you tell the truth. To prevent that, I want you to lie.”
“WHAT!” Janet said, nearly taking off her hand from the crystal. “Why would I do that?”
“Because the Prince won’t believe you, and Rosalie’s going to manipulate it, anyway,” DeeDee said. “If you tell him the truth, if you tell him what he doesn't want to hear, he’ll order yet another interrogation, and you’ll have a much tougher time of it the second time around, and you’ll be implicated.”
“So I should lie about everything?”
“Yes,” DeeDee said. “Your world is built on lies, Janet. It’s not about what you did or didn’t do, because your circumstances are manipulated against you in the eyes of your peers. So it’s better to play her game, because I’m betting Rosalie will make it appear so. Do you understand?”
“But if I lie, won’t it go off by itself?” Janet said.
“Not if you play her game,” DeeDee said.
“But I don’t understand,” Janet said. “What’s there to gain from lying?”
“Janet, listen to me,” DeeDee said. “Did you get a good look at Father Robinson’s appearance?”
“Yeah, I did,” she said.
“Then did you notice anything unusual about his clothes?”
Janet glanced at the stain on the hem of the father’s cassock, saying, “There’s a red stain on his clothes. Wait— . . .” Father Robinson’s own subterfuge flashed through her thoughts, so she said, “DeeDee, that truth potion I took—”
“—is a placebo,” DeeDee said. “He poured the REAL truth potion over the crystal in his pocket to detect interference from the Prince, then wiped it over his clothes to dry it, so you won’t catch onto his ploy. Now go play Rosalie’s game and entrap her with her own ruse!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Janet said.
“Because you must exercise your own observational skills,” DeeDee said. “Now pay attention!”)
Janet closed her eyes and breathed in and out, resigning herself to stooping in order to overcome, and answered Father Robinson’s question: “Yes, I do.”
With that, Prince Blaise approached and looked down on Janet seated at the table like a judge looking over a convict seated at the witness stand and said, “Lady Fleming, what you say will determine what happens to you. You know that, right?”
“Yes, your Highness,” Janet said.
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To Be Continued