Lily (6 page)

‘Another one?’ Lily suggested, holding a biscuit above the little black nose, and giggling.

‘I haven’t been fed for about sixty years,’ Henrietta pointed out plaintively. ‘I am
very
hungry.’ She jumped on all four feet at once, and seized the biscuit from Lily’s fingers. ‘Hah! You didn’t know I could do that, did you?’ she asked Lily, smugly, through crumbs.

By the time Henrietta had had four biscuits, and Lily and Georgie two each, the tin was empty, even Henrietta admitting this at last, after snuffling around inside it quite thoroughly for a while. She sighed heavily, and settled back down on the bedcover, yawning, and licking her jowls, in case she had missed any crumbs. Then she looked up at Lily and Georgie, bright-eyed.

‘So what are we going to do?’

Georgie stared at her. ‘Do…?’ she faltered.

‘We have to do something,’ Lily pointed out gently. ‘At the very least, we have to find out what Mama is planning. It’s your life, Georgie! You can’t just let her use you in some strange plot.’

Henrietta shook her head briskly. ‘No. You should definitely know what the plot is first. Very irresponsible not to.’

Georgie closed her eyes, wearily. ‘I almost wish I’d walked on down the stairs,’ she murmured. ‘Oh, not really. It was just so much easier to let Mama order me around. You’re terribly bossy, Lily. And the dog is worse…’

‘
The dog
is a very rude thing to say,’ Henrietta said sniffily. ‘I have a name.’

‘You see – you sound like a fussy governess!’ Georgie shook her head. ‘But I know you’re right,’ she added, staring miserably at her fingers. ‘I just don’t want to.’

Henrietta padded across the coverlet to Lily, and snuffled in her ear. ‘Have you ever noticed that your sister is awfully
wet
?’

‘So would you be if you were under a spell the whole time and never allowed to do anything but work,’ Lily said defensively. But she couldn’t help agreeing a little.

‘It’s probably why she’s no good at this spell-plot thing,’ Henrietta added, in a loud and indiscreet whisper. ‘She’s just not got the guts for it.’

‘That isn’t fair!’ Lily snapped, sounding even crosser because she had a horrible feeling Henrietta was right.

‘It’s true, Lily.’ Georgie glanced up, and she was laughing. ‘Maybe you should show Mama your magic. You’d be far better at it. Although I’m not sure her binding spell would work on you, you’d probably throw it back in her face. You’re very like her, actually. Determined.’

‘I just want to know what’s happening,’ Lily said stubbornly. ‘And if you can’t ask – well, then we need to find out somehow. Some other way.’

Georgie put her hair in her mouth again, a whole hank of it, and nibbled it fast. Chewing on her hair she seemed more mouse-like than ever, and Lily eyed her worriedly. Much as she hated for Henrietta to be right, Georgie didn’t look like much of a co-conspirator. She looked like a frightened twelve-year-old, who might fall over if someone spoke too loudly.

‘How?’ she murmured, through her hair.

‘I suppose when you’re in the library, Mama is usually watching you…’ Lily began thoughtfully. ‘So you wouldn’t be able to look around for – for evidence. We need to get in there another time.’

Georgie drew her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them. Her thin little wrists poked out of her lacy sleeves, and she was shivering. ‘Must we?’

Henrietta snorted – although in a very ladylike manner. ‘Wet!’ she whispered to Lily again.

Lily tried to put a finger over Henrietta’s mouth, and then gasped with laughter as she met cold wet nose instead. Henrietta leaned against her lovingly. ‘
I
will come and help you look.’

Georgie looked up, her blue eyes hardening, so they reminded Lily of the smoky blue-grey flints she found on the beach sometimes. She glared at Henrietta. ‘And so will I. You’ve never met our mother, remember. You don’t know what you’re promising to do.’

Henrietta sniffed, but she did shift her hindquarters a little nervously, as though Georgie’s words went home.

‘We’ll have to watch for when Mama leaves the library,’ Lily mused, and Georgie nodded unwillingly. ‘I suppose we could go hunting then.’

‘Good. So tomorrow, you have to be just as you always are,’ Lily told her sister firmly.

Georgie gulped, and Lily eyed her with frustration. ‘You
have
to!’

‘I will!’ Georgie snapped back. ‘You don’t know what it’s like, sitting there in the library trying to learn spells with Mama watching me all the time. And now I’ll be worrying that she can see her spell’s gone. I shall spend the whole time certain that she’s standing just behind me, with her fingers outstretched…’ She shuddered fitfully, having succeeded in frightening herself and Lily, and even Henrietta, whose eyes were bulging more than usual.

Lily swallowed. ‘I know. I mean, I know that I
don’t
know. I want to help, Georgie. You can’t want to be sitting there like that for the rest of your life.’

‘It wouldn’t be…’ Georgie began, but her voice trailed away to a whisper. ‘I suppose it could.’

‘Especially if your life wasn’t very long,’ Henrietta pointed out helpfully.

Lily glared at her. ‘Are all dogs tactless, or is it only you?’ she hissed.

Henrietta shrugged, and stretched out her paws. ‘Dogs are not tactless. We just don’t see the point in polite little lies. Which is all tact is, you know.’

Lily opened her mouth to argue, and then shut it again. Henrietta seemed to be right.

‘I’m going to sneeze,’ Henrietta muttered dolefully in Lily’s ear.

‘You mustn’t!’

‘Your housekeeper is worse than useless. The dust!’

‘We don’t have one any more,’ Lily murmured, peering round the heavy, dusty, velvet curtain at the library door. ‘Only a butler, Mr Francis, and he’s a little shortsighted.’

‘Miss Arabel’s mother would have sacked half the staff if they’d let the house get into this state.
Grr
.’ The pug dog shook her head, pawing at her nose miserably.

‘You do know we’re supposed to be hiding?’ Lily pointed out. ‘Shh!’

Henrietta peeped round the curtain. ‘Oh, no one can hear us, Lily! That’s a big solid door. I really don’t see why we have to lurk here anyway. Can’t your sister just come and tell us when your mother has gone?’

Lily sighed, and huddled herself back onto the wide windowsill behind the curtain. ‘Yes… Except – I’m not absolutely sure she would.’ She could imagine Georgie in the library, shivering, trying to nerve herself to get up and fetch them. It was safer to watch themselves.

Henrietta nudged her gently, and then reared up on her hind paws to look out of the smeared window glass. ‘I can see the sea from here. Lily, have you really never been off this island?’

‘Never.’

Henrietta shuddered. ‘I am a London dog. The countryside is all very well, but I like pavement under my paws. I suppose London has changed too,’ she muttered, sounding quite indignant about it. Then she whisked round on the windowsill, her ears suddenly pricked. ‘Someone is coming!’

‘Perhaps she’s going upstairs at last.’ Lily squidged herself as far back into the window as she could.

‘No, no.’ Henrietta was quivering excitedly. ‘The other way! Someone is coming down the stairs.’

‘Oh!’ Lily frowned. ‘I suppose it must be one of the maids, Martha or Violet. But we’ve been here ages, and I didn’t see anyone go up.’

‘Someone very small. Or perhaps just light. And odd-smelling. Ugh. No, a horrible smell. Sour and wrong and…not good! Who is this, Lily? No, shh, be quiet, she’s coming through the hall.’

Light feet were tapping across the stone floor of the hall, and making for the passage they were hiding in. Together, Lily and Henrietta spied around the curtain as a woman in a black dress, swathed in a veil, pattered past them, knocked quietly at the door of the library, and disappeared inside.

‘So? Who was she?’ Henrietta leaned out after her as the door slammed.

‘It’s Marten. Mama’s lady’s maid. She
is
horrible.’ Lily shivered. ‘Sort of shadowy… But she doesn’t smell, or at least, I never thought she did. She always looks scrubbed. Her dress is spotless. The Talish are very good at ironing, I think.’

Henrietta eyed her pityingly. ‘She smells. Believe me. But it isn’t anything to do with not washing. I shouldn’t think she needs to wash, that one.’ There was a curious glint in her black eyes. ‘Why do you not like her, then?’

Lily frowned. ‘Well… She never speaks to me. Most of the rest of the servants do. They – they pity me, I think. Martha’s always slipping me extra food, and Violet tries to teach me my letters. They know I don’t have any magic,’ – she ignored Henrietta snorting – ‘and they think I’m neglected.’

‘You
are
neglected. Thank goodness. If you were being taught like your sister, you’d never have had the time to find me.’

‘The really strange thing about Marten is her eyes,’ Lily added suddenly. ‘She has awful eyes. They’re grey, and they don’t have any middle. The pupils. She doesn’t have them. Or the whites. Her eyes are just grey all over.’

Henrietta stared at her, intrigued. ‘Hasn’t anyone else noticed that? The other servants?’

‘Marten hardly ever goes to the kitchens, or the servants’ hall. She eats in her room, which is joined to Mama’s. And you saw her just now, she wears that veil around her head. The others servants say it’s because she’s Talish, and it’s a fashion, but I don’t think that’s it. It’s so you’d have to look closely to see her eyes at all.’ She lifted Henrietta onto her lap, and stroked her, over and over, calming herself as her fingers ran down the strange, smoothly rough fur. ‘I try not to think about her, mostly. Do you think she’s under a spell?’

Henrietta shivered. ‘No. I think she
is
a spell.’

‘She’s made of magic?’ Lily whispered, amazed. ‘I didn’t know you could do that.’

‘Most people can’t. It’s not the sort of magic that any common-or-garden magician could manage. Arabel’s father was a very learned sort of magician – he didn’t do spells very often, although he could, when he wanted. Mostly he wrote about spells. And talked! On and on… Especially at lunchtime. But it was useful, sometimes. I remember him talking about spell creatures. Very, very difficult magic. And dangerous. I hadn’t realised quite how strong your mother must be.’ Henrietta looked suddenly mournful. It was an expression that suited her wrinkles. ‘I was unkind to your sister. She is right to be so scared.’

‘Really? She isn’t just being feeble then?’ Lily asked, in a small voice.

But Henrietta was suddenly pressing back against the window glass, her lips raising over her white teeth in a silent growl. Someone was coming out.

Lily strained her eyes, as if she could see through the dusty velvet if she tried hard enough. Even then, hiding behind a curtain from a spell-creature, her heart gave a sudden little bounce of excitement. Maybe she could? Every so often she would remember the magic that had brought her Henrietta and turn dizzy with happiness. It was mixed with a kind of delicious terror, but Lily knew she never wanted to give it up.

Lily could hear footsteps, and her mother’s low, musical voice. Then the footsteps pattered towards the door again, it opened, and Mama sailed through, with Marten following her close behind.

Lily dug her fingers into the crumbling wood of the window frame, to stop herself toppling out onto the floor in front of her mother. It was as though she was a magnet, and Lily a thin little pin, dragged towards her by a pull of painful spells. She wrapped the other arm around Henrietta, as the little dog’s claws were squeaking along the painted wood, her eyes bulging at Lily in horror.

Only the merest hint of a paw slid out from behind the dark velvet, but it was enough that Marten’s veiled head snapped round as she passed. Lily could feel the stony eyes scanning the window, and pressed herself even further into the corner, so close she was sure she could feel the grain of the wood imprinting her skin. Perhaps Marten would think it was only a mouse, she prayed, as the pull of Mama’s magic died away.

There was a second’s pause in the tapping footsteps over the stone, a faint hissing sound – and then they carried on, and Lily breathed.

The door creaking open again made them both jump, and Georgie’s face appeared round it, looking anxious. ‘Are you there, Lily?’

Lily unfolded herself creakily from behind the curtain, and stepped out, Henrietta in her arms.

The pug was licking her paws frantically, as though she felt they might have been contaminated with something. ‘She is horrible!’ she hissed. ‘I do not understand how the two of you could have such an unpleasant mother!’ She glared suspiciously at Georgie. ‘Or how you’ve managed to remain so comparatively – clean.’

Lily slipped into the library, and shut the door behind them, leaning against it and trying to catch her breath. Her heart was racing, and the air in the library seemed thick and dusty, so her breath came in unsteady gulps.

‘It’s the magic,’ Georgie told her. ‘It’s even in the air in here. Breathe through your mouth – it helps, till you get used to it.’

Henrietta had wriggled down, and was trotting about the library, sniffing busily. When Merrythought had been a grand house, a place where magicians from all over the country, the world even, had gathered, the library had been their meeting place. It was the largest room in the house, even larger than the grand hall, and it ran through all the way to the back of the house, at almost double height, with a stained glass dome in the ceiling, surrounded by a little gallery. Lily had hardly ever been in it. She always wondered how the room managed to be so dark, despite all that glass, and the huge windows that looked out onto the old rose garden – which was a dandelion garden more than anything these days. But now she could see the magic swirling in the air, like dust motes in the sun, hazing everything.

‘Georgie, did you know that Marten wasn’t real? Henrietta says she’s made of magic!’

Georgie shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s possible.’

‘It is, and she is,’ a little growly voice called back from inside one of the little bays of books that went around the walls. ‘Although I suppose it might not have been your mother who created her.’ She popped her head back around the shelves. ‘She smelled of your mother’s magic though, I think. Musky.’