Chapter 10

Old Scores

Settling herself more comfortably into the large red chair near her bedroom fire, Patience returned with concern to reading Eva's latest letter. She had not expected Harold to make such mistakes with Eva after he had worked so hard to get her, but it seemed that Harold was being very foolish indeed.

"I tried talking to Harold like you suggested, but it was nothing doing. He is so completely consumed with his work that he just does not see me. I'm really too tired of it all, you know? If I am supposed to be planning a wedding for May then I would at least like to know soonish whether he wants something big or small. Is that too much to ask? I'm not expecting him to give full details on the menu or the entire guest list, but at least tell me whether Mother and I should hire a marquee for the garden or if our drawing room will be large enough.

All he tells me is that whatever pleases me pleases him. Well ta ever so. Such helpful advice, I'm sure. Harold usually has such strong opinions. I am beginning to wonder if he really doesn't care about the wedding at all. Perhaps it would be more useful to him if we just step over to the Ministry office, sign the papers, and have done. Then he could get back to his paper on the increase in non-standard breeding practices on puffskein breeding farms or whatever it is that they have him doing now—all of it so pointless and tiresome and yet apparently more important than our wedding. Maybe he doesn't even want to be married or perhaps not to me."

Patience shook her head and reached out a hand for another walnut biscuit before she continued reading.

"But now on to you. I think that you ought to risk it. What does old Snape care if you do over your room? He is never there, is he? If you do not like the decorations, and from what you described to me no one would, then you should go out and buy yourself something nicer. Do you have enough money though? Your shopping allowance won't take you very far if you're planning to purchase house furnishings—shockingly expensive they are. Even if Father could purchase wholesale through the business for you, which I'm sure he would do because he adores you, it would still likely cost more than Snape has given you. Perhaps you could focus on one or two things to change, like a nicer eiderdown and curtains."

After a quick glance at the bed hangings and the curtains round the one narrow window in the room, Patience sighed and snatched a fourth biscuit from the well-stacked platter in front of her.

"Why don't you get the cat, dear? I don't see why Snape would mind. It would give you something to do and some companionship. Anything is better than taking up needlepoint. Needlepoint? Sarah and I laughed ourselves silly when we read that. I am going to send you round an invitation to the lending library. Now that you are a resident of Hogsmeade you can be invited to join and of course I'll give you a reference. The subscription isn't much. Then you won't always have to go into Botts, which I think is so overpriced.

Oh yes, one last thing. All three of us got together on your present. It will arrive next week. If you don't like it, then blame Elspeth and just pretend you love it."

Patience looked up at the picture of her with her three best friends that she had placed on the mantelpiece. They were all four smiling and clustered together under a tree. Eva's arms were draped round both Patience and Elspeth and Sarah was hugging Elspeth with both arms and laughing because her long, loose hair was whirling round in the wind.

It was not so very long ago that the picture had been taken. They had only just finished their NEWTs. They had all been so happy and life had seemed very promising. Sarah was very serious with Freddie Boyne, Patience was to be marrying Bobby Fleming, Elspeth had just started dating Euan MacDiarmid on whom she had had a crush for three years, and Eva's Harold finally had got up enough nerve to ask her to marry him.

Patience sat back in her chair and considered Harold Goodwin. He had good reason to think himself unbelievably lucky. Honestly, Eva must be one of the most beautiful girls ever to pass through Hufflepuff. Harold had been hopeless about her since his third year, their second. It had seemed, according to Sarah's brother, that Harold had no idea that Eva really would say yes to a proposal. It did not make sense that he would now be acting so cold to her. She could not understand it. If only she could write to Sarah and see what Nolan said about it.

Patience picked up her quill and stared down at her friend's curly green writing for several moments thinking, before she pulled over her own parchment and began to write.

"Eva,

I am sure that I'll love anything that you three have selected. Besides that, I know before even seeing it that you two didn't let Elspeth decide anything. In fact, I suspect that it was all you.

But you can't let Sarah read the letters I send. I never dreamt you would. I am sure that Professor Snape would think that was disobedience or decide that you were untrustworthy or something else horrid and then he wouldn't let me write you anymore. He does not want Sarah or Elspeth to know anything about me. He did not tell me his objections, but it doesn't matter. His opinion is always right, isn't it? Promise me that you will not show my letters to her anymore, Eva. I thought you understood. I couldn't bear it if we were not able to even owl again."

Patience lifted her head and thought nervously about her husband. What would he do? She had no doubt that it would take very little to make him rescind his offer to allow her to write Eva. She was not going to let that happen.

"I really wanted to get a Crup, you know I've always wanted one ever since Sarah got her precious little Urg, but I can't get one without his permission and a lot more gold than he's given me. So I have written in response to an advert in the Daily Prophet for Madame Imelda Murchison, who breeds cats that she guarantees have Kneazle ancestry, about the possibility of purchasing one. I'm afraid that this will be a bit expensive, too, but one doesn't want the sort of cat that will climb the curtains and hide from Pecoins, does one? Yes, we had a Pecoin last night. I think that this is the sort of nasty house that breeds Pecoins and Boggarts. Rem disposed of it in a most disgustingly pleased manner."

Patience sat back and let her thoughts wander. Poor little Urg. He was such a monster, but so adorable. Even if he had taken an unfortunate liking to wooden chair legs, despite the lengths to which Sarah had gone to get tempting bits of rubber tyre and even an extremely gaudy tea cosy for Urg to eat. Yet a cat would be very nice, too, something to which she could talk and which might even love her back.

Patience shook her head, however, when she looked again at the curtains and thought about what her husband's reaction would be if she decided to redo the house.

"I think my ramble about redoing my room was just a daydream, Eva. I don't have anywhere near enough gold to do more than a piece or two and if I purchase the cat and another few books then I'll be without even enough for that. I don't know what I was thinking before. Professor Snape would not be impressed either, I think.

What do you think Sarah and Elspeth would want for Christmas? He did not say that I couldn't send gifts and, if I owl them to you and you send them on, he need never know, right? I am not getting you anything, no; you are getting this needlepoint over which I've been slaving. Let it be a lesson to you."

Patience laughed aloud and reread the letter quickly. Eva would probably actually believe that she was going to get the needlepoint. That would make the little object that was waiting in Patience's dressing room cupboard even more of a pleasant surprise for Eva. She already had an idea what she was getting Sarah, but it could not hurt to ask for Eva's suggestions. Patience had not seen her friends in months, so she was very out of touch.

Patience stood up and looked for her shawl, which she seemed to have lost somewhere. No wonder she had been feeling so cold; the fire was low again. Wicket was getting too old. He had trouble remembering any more than two chores at a time and now it was almost teatime. He was probably busy with the food. She would have to speak to him again.

As Patience climbed the stairs to the third level, she thought seriously about what Christmas was likely to be like here in this dreary, awful house. Rem had seemed unduly nervous when Patience had asked about Christmas decorations. Patience was not entirely surprised that there weren't any. She did not know whether Rem was afraid that Patience would blame her for the lack of Christmas things or whether Rem feared that Patience would actually buy some and that Snape would be angry.

Patience reached the far end of the corridor and opened the creaky door to the attics. She felt sorry for poor Gwynedd, who had to live up in the attic—not that the owl had any kindly feelings for Patience. She pinched Patience's fingers with a vengeance every time that Patience handed her a letter to deliver and had twice soiled Patience's shoes before flying out the attic window to perform her postal duties. The ancient old owl was as nasty as her mistress was. Perhaps Patience ought to get her own owl instead of using Rem's. However, if she did then there would not be enough money for a cat. A cat would make a much better companion and Rem's owl did everything that was needed.

When she had escaped from the attic with no worse than a small cut on her left wrist, Patience thought more about the dossiers that she had found. She had actually forgotten about them until earlier that week when she had found them hidden underneath her extra socks and mittens. She had read them over several times now and had been appalled by what she saw. Her own mother and Steven Warrington. Steven Warrington! He was at least 15 years younger than Mother! The papers had also contained information about her mother and several other affairs. Each of which had culminated in a large, expensive piece of jewellery given to her mother by her father to win her back. The woman who had collected the information had even calculated the exact value of the gifts, which seemed to have got larger each time. However her father, about whom Patience would have been more willing to believe stories of infidelity, had been scrupulously faithful, apparently to the extreme annoyance of the unknown information-gatherer, who had written dozens of disparaging notes in the margins. The only real information written about him was regarding a few illegal objects that Patience already knew he owned.

The worst thing for her to read had been the enormous amount of information about her Aunt Deirdre. Patience did not have many memories of her aunt, but she had thought that Aunt Deirdre had been rather decent. Deirdre, her mother's older sister, had brought Patience over to her house in County Armagh every summer until she had been struck down with a horrible illness when Patience was almost eight. Those summers had been very pleasant, since Aunt Deirdre had let Patience do anything that she pleased as long as she was not noisy.

However, from what she had read in the dossier, Aunt Deirdre had been a nasty, awful woman. Patience had been horrified by what the information gatherer claimed was really going on from Deirdre's house. Whether the allegations of the information gatherer were true or not it was clear that this woman hated Patience's family, especially Aunt Deirdre. If this were the case, shouldn't her mother know this? Why then would her mother want to force Patience into this marriage? What score had she been hoping to settle?