The Moon Master's Ball (4 page)

The next day Tilly scrubbed the kitchen
floor while listening to Mrs. Gregson rant about Mrs. Carlisle and
her daughter. “They didn’t leave ’til past dark! If they ever
did
leave. I never saw ’em go.”

“Wait.” Tilly sat back on her heels and
looked up at Mrs. Gregson. “They’re not even here yet. It’s half
past seven.”

Tilly the Tardy indeed!

“I’ll be right back, Mrs. Gregson.” Tilly
dropped her scrub brush and nearly overturned her soap-filled
bucket in her haste to scramble up. Ignoring Mrs. Gregson’s
questioning shout, she dashed upstairs and into the parlor and
began cleaning furiously before the new housekeeper could set up
camp in the room. “Daphne! Ellen! Could you come help—”

Then she glanced out the parlor’s large
window and staggered backwards, bumping into a table and sending a
vase full of flowers crashing to the floor. Tilly gripped the table
with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut.
Calm down. It’s not
as though you’ve never seen it.

But, in truth, she could never get used to
the sight. Every autumn for ever-so-many years, she had seen this
phenomenon occur. One minute there was nothing but dandelions atop
Bromley Meadow, and the next minute . . .

It
had arrived.

Tilly could hear the excited shouts of other
villagers as they saw it too, but she wasn’t listening. The
memories of that terrifying moment of many years ago flashed
through her mind, and she felt bile rising in her throat.

“Tilly! It’s here! Lord Hollingberry has
given us the
whole
week off!”

The other maids rushed about the house,
never stopping to notice Tilly’s terrified state. Already she saw
families hurrying out to Bromley Meadow to have a grand time. Shops
closed and children were let out of school . . .

. . . For there, reaching up to the sky, was
a massive tent painted in the most magnificent colors.
Emerald-green stripes, deep-burgundy stripes, gold stripes, and
even peacock-blue stripes adorned the tall tent; and scattered
around it were little, aged wagons of pastel colors and booths with
vendors awaiting their first customers.

A slight fog still clung rebelliously to the
meadow’s rolling hills and, as the sun shone down, the grass
twinkled with dew. It was a beautiful sight to the people of
Winslow and, while they rushed to get ready for the day, the
thought of it danced about in their minds. For a week there would
be nothing but fun in the village.

Bromley’s Circus had arrived.

While down on her hands and knees cleaning
up the broken vase and flowers, Tilly pondered Rodger’s suggestion
of the night before. Once her work was finished, she decided, she
would bundle up in her room and not come out for the whole week.
And she would ask Mrs. Gregson for tea. Perhaps she would read the
book Daphne had lent her.

Her thoughts stopped abruptly when she heard
a noise coming from underneath the wooden floorboards. It sounded
like scratching and . . . something else. Whispering. Scratches and
whispers.

Tilly pressed her ear to the floor, and the
whispering got louder, though she couldn’t pick out any specific
words. The noise sounded familiar, as if she had heard it once a
long time ago. But it ended abruptly when Lord Hollingberry stepped
suddenly into the room.

“Tilly? Why are you still here?” The old man
looked around the parlor and smiled. “My dear wife loved this
room.” The smile faded a little as he looked at Tilly again. “Come
along now; leave the cleaning for another time. Do you remember the
conversation we had yesterday?”

Tilly gulped and scrambled to her feet,
trying to think of a way to escape Lord Hollingberry’s question.
“I—I do, sir.”

As she stepped into the foyer, he closed the
door behind her and spoke very quietly, as if afraid someone might
overhear. “My dear, I know something happened to make you afraid of
the Circus. It
is
a strange place, after all. But I need you
to suppress that fear and do something for me.”

Tilly was already shaking her head
frantically, her face pale. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t. I just
can’t.”

Once more, Lord Hollingberry’s voice and
manner became strangely young. “What if I told you that a man’s
fate rests in your hands?”

“Sir, please, you aren’t making any
sense—”

“When have I ever lied to you? I’ve taken
you in, given you a home, and treated you with as much kindness and
consideration as you could wish. Now grant me this one favor,” he
said just above a whisper. “I’m only asking you to go to the
Circus, find Indigo Bromley, and tell him you must see the Moon
Master to deliver this letter from me. It’s as simple as that.”

Lord Hollingberry stretched out his hand to
Tilly, offering her an ivory letter with a midnight-blue wax
seal.

Tilly shook her head. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Tilly. What is happening right here, right
now, is bigger than your fear. Be brave. I will make sure you are
protected from any harm.”

It was a simple task. Take the letter, go to
Indigo Bromley, and give the letter to the Moon Master. Simple.

And yet she was terrified.

But Lord Hollingberry had been so good to
her. She should stop complaining and complete this small task! With
this thought firmly planted in her brain, Tilly held out her hand
and allowed Lord Hollingberry to place that crisp letter in her
palm.

“Thank you, Tilly. Thank you so very much.”
Lord Hollingberry turned to leave, but she stopped him with a
question.

“Why can’t you take it, sir?”

The lord slowly looked at her over his
shoulder, a deep pool of sadness rippling in his eyes. “I was
banished from Bromley’s Circus a long time ago.”

With that, he left.

Tilly walked slowly down to her room, every
step more resistant than the last. She inspected the letter and
wondered what sort of message was scribbled within it. Then she
looked in her mirror, folding back the collar of her maid’s
uniform. A long white scar ran from her neck down to her collar
bone.

She let out a sob and sat on her bed. Why
had she agreed to go back?

“
Where
is my blasted necktie?”

Indigo Bromley always made doubly certain
his personal wagon was set up behind the main tent in order to best
avoid the Winslow residents rushing to buy Circus wares. But at
present he couldn’t think about his Circus. A weightier matter
consumed all thought: He was missing his peacock necktie with its
emerald pin, and a magician cannot be a magician if he is not
properly dressed.

“Scatter! Scatter, come here this instant!”
Bromley looked in his mirror and made sure every hair of his black
beard was where it should be. Delicately he twirled the tips of his
mustache. Then he placed his dangling ruby-and-diamond earring in
his right ear. “Scatter! Where is that little—”

“I’m afraid you cannot disturb Indigo
Bromley.” The guard outside his door spoke in a low grumble.

“Oh, but I
must
see him!” A girl’s
voice replied. “It’s a matter of the utmost importance!”

“Sorry, miss. Have you seen the magic
pumpkin carvings? You might enjoy that.”

“Please, Lord Hollingberry sent me!”

Indigo Bromley stopped searching for his
necktie and peeked around his curtain at the girl outside. She was
young. Pretty, too, and she looked absolutely petrified.

Hoping to make a dramatic entrance even
without his necktie, Indigo Bromley flung open the curtains of his
wagon and flared out his long, green-and-black, sparkling
coattails.

“Let her in, Dudlow,” he said in a deep,
unidentifiable accent. With a shrug, Dudlow let the girl step into
the wagon. Bromley closed the curtains again and turned to her,
twirling his mustache absentmindedly. “And what is the beautiful
lady’s name?” He bowed and grasped her fingertips, planting a kiss
on them.

She snatched her hand away. “Higgins,” she
said in a trembling voice. “Tilly Higgins. Lord Hollingberry sent
me. I have a letter, you see.” Her hand shaking, she pulled out a
letter with the Hollingberry seal on it.

“Hmm.” Indigo Bromley extended a ring-clad
hand to take it, but Tilly jerked the letter out of his reach.

“M—my instructions were to show it to the
Moon Master. No one else.”

Bromley raised an already-arched eyebrow. “I
see. I don’t think you’ll like him very much. You’re already quite
frightened about something, and he’ll only scare you further.”

Tucking the letter away, Tilly took a deep
breath. “But I still must deliver the letter to him.”

“Very well.” Indigo Bromley turned away from
her. “Scatter!” He bellowed out, making Tilly jump. “Jittery,
aren’t you?” The magician smirked.

“Yes sir.” Tilly lowered her gaze and hoped
Bromley would hurry and take her where she needed to go. She heard
a rustling noise beneath the wagon. Looking down, she saw a hole in
the floor. The rustling noise got louder until a little white head
poked up from the hole. Tilly jumped backwards and knocked into
Indigo Bromley’s full-length mirror, nearly sending it crashing to
the ground.

“Good heavens, girl, watch what you’re
doing!” Bromley barked, and then addressed the white mouse climbing
up from the hole in his floor. “Scatter. It’s about time you got
here.”

The mouse chattered then looked at Tilly
almost apologetically.

“Take the girl to the Moon Master. And find
my necktie!”

With a chirp, Scatter gestured with its tiny
pink paw for Tilly to follow. She didn’t move.

“What’s the matter, girl?” Bromley looked
exasperated.

“I’m not . . . not fond of . . . rodents.”
She wrung her hands and glanced at the mouse again.

“Neither am I. Now go with Scatter to the
Moon Master. Or you can give
me
the letter.”

Tilly didn’t respond. Steeling herself, she
followed Scatter from the wagon and past the guard to the main
tent.

This tent was as gigantic as she remembered,
towering high above the village below the meadow. Its curtains were
open wide as if they wanted to embrace each visitor, but Tilly
didn’t feel up to a hug. It was too crowded inside, and she only
wanted to get away from the noise and the pushy vendors. The mouse
bounded inside then turned to look at her with his glistening black
eyes. When she didn’t move, he sat on his haunches and began to
clean his whiskers.

“Hello, Tilly! Beautiful day, isn’t it?” the
village folk asked as they passed her and strolled into the Circus.
Tilly nodded and smiled at each one, knowing she must look silly
standing there outside the tent, quivering with nerves.

Closing her eyes, she tried to forget about
the small but terribly powerful creature that had attacked her. It
had been nighttime that first time she came, so perhaps the
creature was nocturnal. Or maybe, after all these years, it was
dead.

Yes, it was surely dead,
she told
herself and plunged into the tent. She clutched the letter tightly
inside her dress pocket and followed Scatter deeper into the lights
and shadows of the Circus.

The noise of vendors calling to village folk
and the villagers calling back was deafening. Her ears felt
suffocated by the noises, and she ran to keep up with the mouse,
which wound between peoples’ legs and scurried under booths.

“Scatter! You’re going too—Oh, excuse me!”
Tilly apologized when she bumped into a man and sent his hat flying
to the grass.

“Quite all right,” the man grumbled as he
placed the hat back on his head, then watched in astonishment as
she turned from him to follow a small white mouse through the thick
crowd.

Scatter led her, weaving across the length
of the Circus tent until they reached its farthest and darkest
corner. Tilly glanced around, wondering where the Moon Master could
possibly be. At least it was quiet in this area. There was no
interesting act or delicious food to attract anyone. In fact, there
was nothing in the corner at all.