A School for Unusual Girls (6 page)

“See. We're not all thieves and charlatans,” Jane said, as if sharing a private joke with the others. “Maya is our diplomat.”

Tess still brooded. She entreated Sera once more, “Are you quite certain? You didn't see anything else about her?” She said
see
as if it meant much more than observing my height or noting my abundance of freckles.

Sera tilted her head, her silken hair shimmered in the candlelight as she answered no. “Perhaps, you—”

Tess cut her off with a quick shake of her head.

“Well, that's that, then.” Jane brushed out her skirts. “
C'est la vie
.”

Tess uncrossed her arms and stared at me with obvious disappointment. She turned to Jane. “I was sure it would be her.”

Jane answered mournfully. “Time will tell.”

Tess pressed her eyes closed for a minute as if blocking out something painful. “That's just it. There's no time left.”

I didn't understand what they meant, nor did it matter. I had no intention of staying in this awful place. I grabbed my boots out of the armoire, stuffed them back in my portmanteau, and tried to ignore the disappointment of the girls surrounding me. With an exasperated sigh, I gave in and extended a small olive branch. “If there's something you would like to know about me, you could simply ask. I don't have any secrets.”

“Now
that
is a lie.” Tess backed away as if I'd burned her. “Everyone has secrets.”

Jane merely shrugged and turned away. “Thank you, but we'd rather have heard it from Sera.”

The girls of Stranje House were a peculiar lot. Apparently, they all tilted a little too far off the starboard beam. But then again, Sebastian probably thought the same about me. Was I as out of plumb as these girls? Or was I worse? I sighed heavily and closed my trunk. I couldn't ignore the fact that my parents had left me here in this madhouse for some reason.

The girls drifted apart, leaving me alone. It didn't matter. I was used to solitude. I had always played alone, eaten alone, and been sad alone. Why should tonight be any different? I sat on the nearest bed and picked at a nubbin of wool on my stocking. I needed to face facts.
I am a trifle odd
. But was I so abnormal that my own parents would dispose of me just as they would a three-legged pup?

Madame Cho barged in and struck the floor with her bamboo walking sick. “Bedclothes. Now.” She thumped it again. The other girls had already scattered like quail into the shadowy corners of the room. I didn't move.

The old dragon drew up in front of me and threw open my trunk. She yanked out a night rail and flung it at me. Her dark eyes flashed like steel against flint. I swallowed any hope of defiance. She leaned close, so close I grimaced at the smell of rice and fish and leeks. “You sleep now. Unpack tomorrow.”

I had no intention of doing either. I would not sleep. Nor would I unpack. And yet, I couldn't find the strength to make even a pretense of obedience. I was trapped, a rabbit paralyzed beneath Madame Cho's snake eyes. My limbs felt heavy and useless, my spirit drained of strength. I hated her, I hated this place, hated this night. So, despite her fierce glare and fishy breath, I just sat there.

Not until she pinched my leg, did I move. Her bamboo cane slapped the hardwood floor, a warning of what would come next if I didn't comply. “Bedclothes!”

I stood then, and mechanically untied the tapes of my traveling gown. It slipped off and I tossed it across the chest. What did I care if it wrinkled? My petticoats pooled around my feet and I stepped out of them. The old dragon moved away, nodding, pleased to have proven her authority over me.

The evening chill prickled my flesh. I shivered, more determined than ever to escape. All I needed was a proper plan. I may be odd and peculiar, I may be freckled and unlovable, but there's one thing I know for certain about myself: I am good at making plans. Even if some of those plans do, occasionally, burst into flames.

 

Four

NIGHT CREEPERS

I lay in bed, next to a stranger who may or may not be deranged, and stared into the darkness. Alone. Cast out. Discarded by my parents like so much rubbish. How could they do this? My head throbbed. How long, I wondered, how long would they leave me here?

I posed the question to my bedmate, Sera. “How long have you been at Stranje House?”

“Two years.” She sighed mournfully. “And then some.”

Two years
. She may as well have punched me in the stomach. I turned away and curled on my side. Two years was an eternity. My parents wouldn't leave me here that long.
Surely not
. This was merely a punishment. As soon as I demonstrated proper behavior, they would let me return home.
Surely
.

The more I dwelled on it, the more I conjectured that perhaps they'd sent me to Stranje House out of love. After all, Squire Thurgood had been furious about his burnt orchard. The night of the fire there had been talk of calling in the magistrate, and loud discussions about the proper punishment for young ladies who set fire to their fathers' stables.

I squeezed the pillow around my head in an attempt to blot out those recollections, because I could not help but recall my father ranting as loud as the Squire. He certainly hadn't defended me, except to the extent that he refused to allow a magistrate to interfere. He swore he'd handle it himself, not wanting his good name tarnished by the reckless acts of his addlepated daughter.

Oh, yes, I might well be banished to Stranje House for two years.

Or longer
.

It all came back to escape. I set to counting the names of people I might impose upon to house me after I escaped. The list was short. To be perfectly frank, the list was blank. My uncle, Lord Brucklesby, would promptly return me to my father. My maternal grandfather would do the same after delivering a hearty lecture and liberally applying a switch to my legs.

Then there was the problem of getting past the dogs, or wolves. Whatever they were, they posed an obstacle. I groaned and sank deeper into the pillow, wishing it would swallow me up and spit me out at home in my own bed.

I would never get to sleep. It didn't help that one of the girls prowled through the dark like a sneaky fox. For all I knew, one of my fellow students might have a penchant for strangling people in their sleep. That might account for why there were so few girls in this
supposed
school.

Tess scampered across the room, keeping to the shadows along wall. Like a ballerina doing an arabesque, she bent on one leg and peered under the thin gap beneath our closed door. She darted back and whispered, “She's gone.”

Sera rolled toward my side of the bed and spoke softly next to my ear, “Madame Cho stands guard every night until we are asleep.”

Madame Cho had failed in her task.

She flung back the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed. “Come.”

Come where?
I didn't move. Whatever they were up to, they could do it without me. I had plans to formulate.

Jane popped out of the darkness and thrust her face next to mine. “Did you think to pack candles in that enormous trunk of yours?”

Startled by her sudden appearance, I only shook my head. No. I hadn't thought to smuggle a firearm into my luggage either, but it might've proved handy in dealing with this lot.

“I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” She grasped my hand and tugged me out of bed. “Come on then. We'll have to make do without.”

Normally, I would have demanded to know exactly what was going on and why, but given the odd inhabitants of this school and my precarious position among them, I decided it would be prudent to remain silent and cooperate. Tonight, I would emulate Captain Cook on his voyages to the aboriginal people of the South Pacific. For the sake of science, I would observe and analyze the natives in their natural habitat. Truth be told, I
was
curious.

Jane tugged me along as we crept to the far side of the room. The others huddled near an ornate oak paneled wall. Tess pressed the top corner and a latch clicked. The panel scraped against the floor as she pulled it open. We tensed. Jane and Maya spun around and stared at the bedroom door, wary as deer fleeing a hunter.

Maya exhaled and whispered, “She did not hear.”

Tess disappeared through the opening and Sera followed. I balked, having seen quite enough of secret passages for one day. I didn't relish the dust and mildew on my bare feet, or the spiders, or mice, or—

“Come.” Maya took my hand and ended my standoff. “You will want to see this.”

I don't know why I let Maya persuade me.
Baffling
. Perhaps it was the musical quality of her voice, or her gentle nature. I only know I felt compelled to follow her. I ducked under the oak frame, into the wall, and a blanket of dense blackness engulfed us.

Jane pushed me from behind. “Hurry.”

I followed the others up the narrow stairway. Jane pulled the panel shut, and stale, musty, cupboard air closed around us. The tight quarters inside the wall magnified every sound; five of us breathing, ten feet padding on the crumbling stone stairs, and the whiskery
tick-tick
of mice chasing up the steps beside us.

“Mice!” I warned the others.

“Hush.” Jane patted my back. “Keep moving. Tess will deal with the rats.”

“
Rats?
”

Jane silenced me with a thump between my shoulder blades. I shivered, but not from the cold. I imagined dozens of gray, greedy-eyed vermin swarming around us, their hairless tails whipping from side to side, and their sharp teeth snapping at my heels. I tiptoed cautiously up the cold steps, hoping each splinter of rotting wood, every nubbin of broken plaster underfoot was not an angry rat's tail.

We climbed higher and higher, until at last, the air tasted less stagnant, and gray light filtered down from somewhere above us. “Ack!” I hopped aside as one of the rats, a fat dark fellow, scurried past me, racing up the stairs toward the opening.

Jane shushed me again. So I kept mum and followed Maya out of the passage into a low-ceilinged attic.

Large undraped dormer windows cut into both sides of the long garret, and moonlight bathed the room in wisps of silvery blue. Discarded paintings leaned against a monolithic old wardrobe. Crates and trunks, stacked in tall misshapen pillars, formed caverns and created weird shadows. In the center of this labyrinth, near one of the windows, sat several mismatched dilapidated chairs arranged in a semicircle. Jane lit a small tin oil lamp and placed it on the floor, but it barely illuminated the chairs.

Sera hurried to the window seat and busied herself with a sailor's spyglass. Unlatching the window, she focused it toward the east. I peered out, trying to determine our height and the distance to the edge of the property, wondering if Da Vinci's kite might serve as a method of escape. But I couldn't see a road in that direction. I wended through boxes and broken furniture to the window on the far side of the room, only to find it looked out over the sea crashing against the cliffs. No hope in that direction, not without a flying boat.

A broken mirror leaned against the wall near my feet. I might not be able to build a flying boat, but I could do something about the gloom in the attic. Selecting two large pieces, I returned to the circle and used a vase and a small wooden stool to prop the mirrors at angles around the lamp. I adjusted them so that they amplified the feeble lamplight. Jane watched my efforts with interest, but any response she might have made was eclipsed by Sera's exclamation.

“I see him!” she cried softly. “He's in the library.”

“Let me.” Tess rushed to the window and took the telescope.

“Who? What library?” I asked, forgetting my resolve to observe silently.

Jane pointed. “Look past our grounds, beyond that stand of trees. There. Do you see the neighboring manor?”

Our window jutted out from the peak of the house affording us an unimpeded view of the property to the north and east. The moon peeked through the mist and I saw where Stranje House's tangled woods ended and opened out onto a smooth manicured park. Farther east stood the profile of a large manor. A window on the second story glowed with orange firelight.

I nodded.

“It belongs to Lord Ravencross,” she said, as if his name held some special significance. Then she whispered, “Very mysterious fellow. He returned from the war and reduced his staff to only two servants for that entire manor house.”

Jane squinted at the neighbor's mansion as if she was counting the number of rooms. “He must keep most of it closed up and in covers.” She shook her head. “He refuses all visitors, never pays calls to anyone in the neighborhood. Rarely does anyone go in or out.” With a wry smirk she added, “We play guessing games about him. What do you say, Georgiana? Is he so horribly disfigured he cannot abide company?”

“You are the only one who plays those guessing games, Jane.” Sera tugged the spyglass away from Tess. “And I do wish you would stop. The poor man is in mourning. His only brother is dead. He deserves our sympathy, not your mockery.”

Maya stood beside Sera straining to see across the park. “You must think we are dreadful busybodies.” She turned to me with a probing gaze and awaited my answer.

I hedged. “I suppose it's only natural all of you would be curious about a neighbor.”

Sera shook her head. “No. It is much more than mere curiosity. He needs us.”

I didn't see how that could be true, but I held my tongue.

“You're skeptical, but I assure you it's true.” Sera sighed deeply and dove into an inscrutable explanation. “Tess had one of her dreams, a nightmare really, about a young man being brutally injured in a horrifying fight. She woke up screaming. We were all quite alarmed because she isn't like me. I only see what is. Tess has dreams and she sees—”