The Sweet Far Thing (12 page)

“I nearly did,” she answers, shivering.

“But what happened?” Felicity asks.

Pippa calls out toward the forest. “It’s all right! You can come out! It’s safe. These are my friends.”

A ragged group of girls emerge one by one from their hiding places behind the trees and the bushes.

Two carry long sticks that look as if they could do damage. As the girls come closer, I see the singed tatters of their dresses, the horrific burns on their faces and arms. I know who they are—the factory-fire girls we met months ago. We last saw them marching toward the Winterlands, toward corruption. I am relieved to see that they did not meet their end there, but I cannot imagine how they escaped.

One of the stick holders—a big-boned lass with coarse skin and wounds running the length of her arms—takes a stand beside Pippa. I remember speaking to her in the realms before. Bessie Timmons.

She’s the sort I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of.

She glances at us suspiciously. “Everfin’ all righ’, then?”

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“Yes, Bessie. These are my friends, the ones I told you all about,” Pippa says proudly.

“The ones wot took the Temple magic and lef ’ you ’ere?” Bessie snorts.

“But you see they came back.” Beaming, Pippa puts her arm around Felicity.

Bessie doesn’t like it one bit. “I wouldn’t be too ’appy. They’re not ’ere to stay.”

Pippa wags a finger as a schoolmarm would. “Bessie, remember our motto: Grace, strength, beauty. A lady must be gracious when welcoming guests.”

“Yes, Miss Pippa,” Bessie says contritely.

“But, Pip…where have you been? I want to know everything!” Felicity says, embracing Pippa again.

I know I should embrace her as Fee and Ann have done, but I can see only those disturbing eyes and sharp teeth, and I am afraid.

“I shall tell you everything. But come inside. It’s far too chilly out here.” Pippa takes hold of Ann’s and Felicity’s hands, pulling them toward the castle. Grumbling, Bessie Timmons follows. The remaining girls fall into line, and I bring up the rear.

Pippa throws back the iron latch on the castle’s warped wooden door. The weeds snake through the planks, plastering themselves to the front.

“Here we are,” Pippa says, pushing open the door. “Home.”

It seems as if it might have been a beautiful stronghold in its day, but now it is nothing more than ancient bricks with vines for mortar. The walls are slick with moss. It smells of damp and decay. Brittle daisies, dead on their stalks, peek up between broken flagstones. The only thing that seems to grow is belladonna. The poisonous purple flowers hang above our heads like little bells.

“This is where you’ve been…” I stop myself from saying
living.
“Where you’ve been all this time?”

“It’s all that’s left for me. A moldering castle for the Lady of Shalott.” Pippa laughs, but it is hollow. She rubs her palms across the elaborate carvings etched into a hearth. The carvings are like saints’ faces gone black with time. “But you can tell it was once magical and beautiful.”

“What happened to it?” Ann asks.

Pippa glares at me. “It was forgotten.”

Felicity pulls aside a threadbare tapestry, revealing a winding staircase. “Where does this lead?”

“To the tower,” Pippa says, smiling wistfully. “It is my favorite place, for I can see for miles. I could even see you coming down the path. You looked so merry.” Her smile falters but she quickly puts a new one in its place. “Shall I show you?”

We follow Pippa up and around the antiquated staircase. Cobwebs cling to rotting wooden rafters far above us. The silvery strands glint with moisture. Some unfortunate creature has met its end there. In the center of a web, its carcass lies trapped and rotting as a spider inches toward it.

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I steady myself against the wall. The vines slither around my fingers. Startled, I leap back, slipping on the crumbling stone. Pippa reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me to safety. “Hold still a moment,” she says.

As we watch, amazed, the vines crisscross the stone like a conquering army. The walls groan with the strain, and I fear that the whole castle will fall down around us. Seconds later, it stops, but fresh tendrils have sprung up everywhere.

“What was that?” Felicity whispers.

“The land’s swallowing it bit by bit every day,” Pippa says sadly. “Soon, we’ll need to find new lodgings, I suppose.” She releases my hand. “Are you all right, Gemma?”

“Yes,” I say. “Thank you.”

“That’s twice I’ve saved your life,” she reminds me. “Do you remember the first time? The water nymphs nearly took you under, but I pulled you back,” she says, and I feel the ledger book open between us.

Pip is right about the tower: it’s magnificent. From the top, we can see beyond the way we’ve come—the Caves of Sighs, the olive trees that line the gardens, the blue sky and the orange sunset. We can also see beyond the Borderlands, where dark wintry clouds sit on their haunches on the horizon and an enormous wall stretches the length of the land.

“That is the way into the Winterlands,” Pippa says, answering an unspoken question.

Lightning throbs against the roiling mass of black-and-gray clouds. For a moment, a plume of red snakes through the dark.

“We’ve seen that twice now. Do you know what it is?” I ask.

Pippa shakes her head. “Sometimes it happens. We should go downstairs. Wendy will be frightened, poor lamb.”

“Who is Wendy?” Ann asks.

For the first time, Pip gives a true smile. Her eyes shift to violet, and I am reminded of the way she was, alive and beautiful, happy about new gloves or some romantic tale. “How terrible of me, for I’ve not introduced you properly to my new friends!”

Pippa leads us down and into a tapestry-lined room, which is as dismal as a tomb. There are no candles, no lamps, no fire in the enormous hearth. The factory girls have made themselves at home, however.

Bessie stretches out on a divan, among the weeds that wrap around it. Her friend Mae sits on the floor, braiding the hair of another girl, whose name appears to be Mercy, for Mae keeps saying, “Mercy, sit still.” Another girl, younger than the rest, sits in a corner, staring at nothing. I cannot keep from glancing at their wounds, their ghostly pale faces.

“What are you lookin’ at, then?” Bessie snarls, catching me.

My cheeks burn red, and I’m glad for the cover of dusk. “I’m sorry. It’s just that the last time I saw you
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all—”

“We thought you’d followed the girls in white to the Winterlands and were lost forever,” Felicity interrupts.

“They were in the company of those ghouls,” Pippa says, settling into a dilapidated throne.

“What happened?” Ann asks, breathless.

“That is the story I wished to tell you. By chance, I was on the same path, completely brokenhearted and filled with despair.”

“Oh, Pip,” Felicity says.

“There, there.” Pip smiles. “It has a happy ending. You know how I love happy endings.”

I swallow hard. I was the one who turned Pip away, who broke her heart so. I wish I could take it back.

“When I saw these poor lambs, I stopped feeling sorry for myself. I knew I had to do something or they would be lost. So I followed close behind. The moment they stopped to rest, and the girls in white went in search of berries, I took my chance. I told them what those hideous creatures were truly about. That they meant to lead them straight to those soul stealers, the trackers.” She smiles at them as if they were her dear children. “I rescued them. I saved you, didn’t I, my darlings?”

The girls join in a chorus of agreement. They gaze at Pippa in absolute adoration, as we all have from time to time.

“She’s a saint. Saved us, she did,” Mae says, wide-eyed. “‘You mustn’t follow them,’ she said. ‘They mean you ’arm. Come with me instead.’”

“She saved us sure as we’re standing ’ere,” Bessie says, concurring. “Didn’t she, Wendy?”

A girl of about twelve nods. She sucks on the ends of her pigtails, making them into wet points. “The others weren’t so lucky as us. They went on.”

“And have you seen any of the Winterlands creatures since then?” I ask.

“Not for ages now,” Mae says. “But Wendy has.”

“You’ve seen them?” I ask.

Bessie gives a small snort of derision. “Wendy don’t see nuffin’. Fire blinded ’er.”

“But I hear things, sometimes,” Wendy says, pulling the remnants of a ruined shawl about her. “Sounds like horses. And sometimes I ’ear somefin’ makes my skin crawl.”

“What is it?” I ask. “What do you hear?”

“A scream,” she answers. “Faraway-like. And I ’ope it don’t ever get no closer.”

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“Gotcha!” Bessie shouts, wrapping her meaty paws about Wendy’s neck. Wendy screams, making us all jump.

Pippa is quite put out by the display. “Bessie, that is enough.”

Bessie pulls away her hands. “You used to laugh at my tricks.”

Pippa’s eyes go blue-white. “Tonight, I don’t find it amusing. It isn’t ladylike.” She turns to us, all smiles.

“I’m teaching these girls to be ladies, just as if they were at Spence!” She claps as if she were Mrs.

Nightwing herself. “Come now. A small demonstration for our guests.”

The girls rise obediently, eager to please their mistress. Under Pip’s direction, they show off their curtsies one by one. This is followed by a particularly amusing elocution lesson in which Pip works with Mae Sutter to change her thick East London accent. Mae struggles to put
h
s into her words where there are none, and Bessie teases her mercilessly.

“You ain’t no lady, Mae. You ain’t never gonna be a fine lady like Miss Pip.”

“’Oo asked you?” Mae barks, and everyone laughs.

“Who asked you,” Pippa corrects.

“’At’s what I said,” Mae asserts. “’Oo asked ’er?”

There is more laughter, especially from Ann, who seems happy not to be the girl getting taunted for once. Little by little, our awkwardness slips away, easing into a new closeness, until it feels as if we have never been apart. I’ve not seen Felicity like this in months. With Pip she’s lighter, quicker to laugh than to challenge. And I feel a small pang of envy for the intimacy of their friendship.

“What are you thinking?” Felicity asks. I start to answer, but then I realize she’s talking to Pip.

“I was thinking how different my life would have been had I done as my mother told me and married Mr.

Bumble.”

“Mr. Bartleby Bumble the barrister,” Ann intones, pronouncing the
B
s hard.

The factory fire girls break into a fit of giggling. This is the only encouragement Ann needs to continue.

“This is my beloved, Mrs. Bumble,” Ann says in perfect imitation of Mr. Bumble’s plummy tones. “She wears a bright bauble bought from Barrington’s Baubles.”

We’re lost to the giggles now. Ann can scarcely carry on for her own laughter. “Beware barristers bringing baubles! Better the berries than barristers!”

Felicity shrieks. “Oh, Ann!”

Ann giggles. “Bite bitter berries before becoming Bumble’s beloved!”

Pippa’s lips tremble. “Was it the better choice? I wonder.” She buries her face in her hands and cries.

“Oh, Pip, darling. Don’t cry.” Felicity runs to soothe her—Felicity, who never offers kindness to anyone.

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“Wh-what have I d-done?” Pip wails. Sobbing, she runs from the room.

Bessie Timmons gives us a hard look. She’s a big girl and, I daresay, a bit of a brawler. She could give us a good pounding if she wished. “Miss Pippa’s the kindest soul what ever lived. You best not make her cry again.”

I can see from the set of her jaw that we have been warned.

Felicity goes to Pip and returns a moment later. “She wants to speak to you, Gemma.”

I drift down a corridor thick with leaves and desiccated flowers.

“Gemma.” I hear my name whispered from behind a tattered tapestry. I pull it back amidst a flurry of dust. Pippa motions for me to come in. Felicity is right on my heels, but Pip stops her.

“I must have a word with Gemma,” she says.

“But…,” Felicity starts.

“Fee,” Pippa scolds playfully.

“Oh, very well.” Felicity turns on her heel, and Pip and I are alone in the grand room. An ornate marble altar sits at one end, and I surmise that this must have been the castle’s chapel. It seems a strange place for a private conversation. The emptiness of the room and its tall, arched ceilings make our words loop and echo. Pip sits upon the altar, her heels knocking gently against the moldy engravings there. Her smile vanishes, and in its place is an expression of utter anguish.

“Gemma, I can’t bear this anymore. I want you to help me cross over.”

I don’t know what I expected her to say, but it wasn’t this. “Pip, I’ve never actually helped anyone cross before—”

“Then I shall be the first.”

“I don’t know,” I say, thinking of Felicity and Ann. “Perhaps we should discuss it—”

“I’ve given it thought. Please,” she begs.

I know she should cross. And yet a part of me wants to hold on. “You’re certain you’re…ready to go?”

She nods. Only the two of us are in this room neglected by time and magic. It is as hopeless a place as one could find.

“Shall I get the others?” I ask.

“No!” she cries so sharply I fear that the chapel’s old stones will break. “They’ll try to stop me.

Especially Felicity and Bessie. You can tell them goodbye for me. It was nice that we could be together one last time.”

“Yes, it was.” I swallow hard. My throat aches.