The Moon Master's Ball (6 page)

Scatter squeezed himself under the back door
to follow Tilly inside the manor. He quickly scampered to a dark
corner from which he watched her charge upstairs, but he didn’t
follow. His master had told him to make sure she was safe, so he
would have to search the house and make certain.

Starting in the basement, the little mouse
began inspecting each floor of the house quickly and silently, his
delicate nose and whiskers twitching back and forth, picking up all
manner of scents. Crumbs caught on his whiskers in the dining room,
and he sniffed spilt tea on the drawing-room carpet, but none of
these scents were hostile.

The mouse scurried to the upper floors,
thankful that Lord Hollingberry did not keep a cat, and checked the
rooms there. Nothing.

Scatter was about to leave when he thought
perhaps he could bring back some cheese for his Master. Oh, that
would make him so happy! And then he would pat Scatter’s little
head and tell him, “Thank you!”

Yes. Scatter would bring back cheese. He
scuttled down to the foyer, his pointy nose telling him which
direction to go, but suddenly stopped, whiskers twitching. There
was a room he had not noticed before.

The parlor.

How had he missed it? The white mouse made
his way into the room . . . and immediately wanted to dart back out
again, for the room reeked of magic. Magic always stank.

But there was another foul smell concealed
in the room. He sensed it beneath the floorboards. Scatter’s large
ears fanned out when he heard a sound, and he crept cautiously
closer. Despite the stench, he kept his nose pressed firmly to the
floor, determined to know what was causing the smell.

Then the loyal creature’s tiny heart began
to pump harder, faster, filling with fear. He realized what was
hidden under the floorboards.

And what was concealed beneath the
floorboards knew he was there, too.

Scatter barely had a moment to bound
backwards and dart for the door before a hairy paw with claws twice
the size of his small body smashed up through the floorboards,
sending splinters flying through the room. The black paw slammed
down again on the wood, claws scraping horribly until they fell
into the hole again.

Scatter knew he had to escape before the
creature leaped out from its hiding place. Desperately he headed
for the nearest door and barely managed to squeeze under, then
skittered down the front steps and bounded towards Bromley Meadow.
He nearly flew across the cobbled drive, his tiny paws pounding
furiously. He had to get to his master! He had to tell him that the
girl was
not
safe!

The meadow lay just ahead when there was a
crashing sound behind him—the creature had broken through the door!
Dodging between tall blades of grass, Scatter gasped for breath.
Soon he heard deep grunting and a vicious snarl. His enemy was
gaining on him more quickly than he had anticipated!

The Circus still seemed to be miles away.
Scatter’s legs and lungs burned from running so far and so quickly.
At last the mouse reached the tall tent, slipped inside, and ran
around the edge of it, unnoticed by the crowds of people.

He was almost to his master; his master
would protect him! Only a few more feet to go, then he would be
safe!

Scatter leapt towards the booth with the
dark green curtains, but something caught the fur on his back,
suspending him in mid-air. Hearing a guttural growl that sounded
almost like some kind of twisted chuckle, he closed his eyes.

Pain erupted throughout Scatter’s tiny
body.

Tilly woke up wearing the same dirty dress
she’d worn the day before, still clutching the letter with one
hand. She blinked groggily, feeling a bit disoriented, and got up.
Leaving the crumpled letter on her bed, she staggered over to her
washbasin, slipped out of her dress, and splashed water on her
face.

What did it matter if Lord Hollingberry had
given her the whole week off? There was nothing for her to do but
go to the Circus, and she wasn’t about to do that. So she pulled
out her maid’s uniform, preparing to work all day.

But first she headed to the kitchen for a
bite to eat and some company. Mrs. Gregson was the only other
person in Winslow who remained unmoved by the Circus’s charisma. In
fact, she called it “a place of cheap tricks and bamboozlers.”
Tilly and the cook rarely discussed Bromley’s Circus; they were
each happy to know that the other agreed on the subject and left
the topic alone.

“Morning, Mrs. Gregson!”

The old woman snorted. “Morning, indeed.
It’s past ten! You, my girl, are turning into a sleepyhead.” She
chuckled to herself and took out an egg, cracking it over a copper
bowl.

Tilly scrounged up a piece of leftover apple
pie from the night before. “You certainly seem happy this morning.”
Settling at the table, she took a bite.

“It’s just nice to have the house all to
ourselves. You and me and Lord Hollingberry.
That’s
the way
it should be all the time.”

Tilly smiled and chewed on pie, wishing she
could feel as carefree as Mrs. Gregson. Finished, she rinsed her
plate in the basin. “If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the dining
room.”

The hours passed slowly and easily. Tilly
spent them working and stayed out of Lord Hollingberry’s way,
determined not to think about the Circus again. However, no matter
what she did, Bromley’s Circus and the strange Moon Master kept
flashing before her mind’s eye.

Why had he asked if they had met? She would
certainly remember someone like him. Yet his voice had seemed
somehow . . . familiar.

There were also the ribbons, the Moon
Master’s gift. They were beautiful, far too beautiful for her!
Nevertheless, she kept them.

And then there was Rodger.

Was he actually interested in her, or was he
merely fond of her as a friend? Tilly had never thought of a
relationship between the two of them; Rodger had been her friend
and support ever since they were children. She had never noticed
him acting strange around her until yesterday, after she left the
Circus. Hopefully she was only imagining his interest.

She closed the drapes in the front drawing
room and took a deep breath. Another day was almost over. Soon the
week would be past and the Circus, gone! She wasn’t feeling
sociable enough to head to Caroline’s inn that evening. Rodger
would probably be there, and she wanted to stay away from him for
the next few days. With any luck, whatever feelings he had suddenly
developed for her would soon evaporate.

“Tilly?” Lord Hollingberry called from
somewhere nearby.

Tilly squeezed her eyes shut. She had
thought herself safe from any odd conversations that day, but
apparently she’d been wrong.

“Tilly, are you quite well?” He sounded
anxious.

Reluctantly Tilly stepped into the foyer,
only to see Lord Hollingberry staring fixedly into the parlor . . .
which she had forgotten to clean. How strange! Until that moment,
Tilly had been sure she’d cleaned every room in the house.

“I’m here, sir.”

He turned to her quickly. “Thank God you’re
all right!” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “You didn’t notice
the . . . the parlor?”

Tilly shook her head and hurried to join
him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about it. I’ll clean it
right—” Her sentence ended abruptly when she looked into the parlor
for the first time that day.

There was a hole in the middle of the wooden
floor. Claw marks led from this hole to the doorway where they
stood, then across the foyer to the Manor’s front door, which bore
another hole, as if something had plowed straight through the
wood.

How had she not seen this?

“Tilly,” said Lord Hollingberry, “I need you
to deliver another message for me to the Moon Master.”

If Lord Hollingberry had asked her the same
question earlier that day, Tilly would have refused without a
moment’s hesitation; but now there was a hole in the floor of the
parlor. Whatever had caused it was bound to be more sinister than
the Moon Master.

So, once again, Tilly felt the weight of a
letter in her pocket. She also felt, pressing against her heart,
the weight of something much bigger and more important than her
fear of the Circus.

Lord Hollingberry was surely telling the
truth when he insisted there was something much greater taking
place in the village of Winslow.

A low fog was rolling in. Tilly tucked her
coat tightly around herself as she trekked towards colorful
Bromley’s Circus. The afternoon had been cool and wet, and heavy
clouds cast a gray shadow over Winslow, yet people scurried
excitedly past her towards the Circus. The sounds of children
laughing and people gasping in astonishment made the twinkling
merry-go-rounds and inviting vendors even more appealing. Lanterns
adorning a nearby carousel were eerie yellow orbs glowing through
the fog, yet somehow they cast the Circus in an entrancing light.
Tilly almost wished she didn’t hate the place so much.

But beneath all the glitter and false magic
lay something deep and sad which she couldn’t quite understand. She
felt sorry for everyone in the Circus, even the foppish Indigo
Bromley. Perhaps she was wrong to feel such hatred towards this
otherworldly place. Everyone else in Winslow adored it. She
reminded herself that she, too, would have loved it if not for the
horrible night when her neck was scarred.

“It’s Tilly, isn’t it?”

Tilly had been so caught up in her thoughts
that she hadn’t noticed she was skirting the edge of the main tent,
unmindful of where she was going. She turned around to see who had
addressed her.

“Y—yes. It is.” To her great dismay she
recognized Mrs. Carlisle’s daughter. “I’m sorry; I can’t seem to
recall your name.”

The young woman laughed, waving her hand
dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. My name is Drosselyn. I recall
that you were late the day we arrived. Mother was quite upset with
you.”

Tilly nodded, recalling that horrible
morning. Was it only two days ago? So much had happened since
then!

Drosselyn smiled and nodded at Tilly’s coat.
“That’s quite lovely. I adore those silver buttons.” Then she
snapped her fingers as though an idea had struck her. “Do you know
there’s a
dress
shop here, and all the dresses were made by
the faeries of the Winslow Wood themselves?” Her eyes were wide as
she waited for Tilly to respond.

“I didn’t know. But there aren’t
really
faeries in the Wood.” Tilly felt a smile tugging at
the corners of her mouth. Perhaps Drosselyn wasn’t quite as bad as
her mother.

“No, I suppose there aren’t. But it’s
awfully fun to think there are.” Drosselyn grinned and tugged on a
shiny brown curl. “Why don’t we look at the dresses together?” She
seemed truly eager, even hopeful.