Lily and the Shining Dragons Page 8

‘We’re slowing down.’ Lily looked out of the window, but it was still too dark to see much, except for a glimmer of lamps.

  ‘Perhaps to change horses?’ Georgie suggested. ‘We’ve been travelling all night.’

  ‘Someone’s by the door,’ Lily whispered. She could hear scuffling, and then someone clearing their throat.

  ‘I’m about to open this door, missies, and I warn you now, I’m armed. With a pistol, and with more of what you got the last time.’

  ‘That spell…’ Lily’s eyes widened, and both girls shrank back against the dirty seat cushions.

  The carriage door clattered open slowly, and the redfaced man glared in at them. The coachman was behind him holding up a lantern, and looking nervous.

  ‘Good. Good. You’re being sensible.’ The red-faced man lowered the hand that held the small blue glass bottle a little. ‘You may get out – to use the necessaries. But I’ll be outside the door, you hear me? You go one at a time, and I’ll be holding on to the other one, understand?’

  The girls nodded, and hurried out of the carriage, allowing the man to march them to the small inn, and an unpleasant-smelling privy.

  ‘Remember I have your sister,’ he muttered to Georgie, as she bolted the door.

  ‘And you just behave, miss,’ he added to Lily. She nodded faintly. Walking had brought back her wish to be sick, and she had no intention of trying to escape. She was fairly sure she couldn’t, even if he had obligingly lain down and died.

  Eventually Georgie came out, looking as pale as Lily. ‘It’s disgusting,’ she complained to their guard, who only shrugged.

  ‘You’re not living in a smart town house now, miss,’ he pointed out, pushing Lily through the door.

  The privy smelled unbelievably bad, and Lily was sick – but at least she felt slightly better afterwards. For a few seconds, until the general misery of their situation overcame her again.

  ‘That really was a most uncouth noise,’ someone whispered, from behind the old towel that Lily had refused to touch. She had splashed the water from the jug on her face and hands, and dried it on her skirt. The towel looked as though it were breeding things. And now it was talking. Lily leaned against the dirty whitewash of the wall and sighed. The spell hadn’t worn off yet then. She was hallucinating.

  ‘Aren’t you going to talk to me?’ A little black face peered out from behind the greyish folds of the towel, and Lily sobbed.

  ‘Go away! It isn’t fair!’

  ‘I’m real, you idiot,’ Henrietta snapped. ‘Their spell wasn’t that good. Now, you have to smuggle me into that carriage; I can’t ride on the footplate any longer. I’m not a carriage dog, and I’ve already fallen off twice.’

  Lily gaped at her for a second, and then the guard beat on the door, shouting at her to hurry, and she gave up wondering how Henrietta had managed it, and tore off the second layer of her petticoat, bundling Henrietta into it. Then she unlatched the door. ‘I’m sorry to take so long,’ she whispered. ‘I do feel so dreadfully sick, and there isn’t a bowl or anything in the coach. I’ve torn out my petticoat, you see. So if I’m sick again, at least I’ve got something.’

  Georgie was staring at her suspiciously, but the guard simply nodded. Lily suspected it was his job to clean the carriage, and made herself wobble all the way back, clutching the petticoat to her mouth in a convincing manner.

  She made herself wait until the coach was moving again before she put it down, and let Henrietta out.

  ‘You found her!’ Georgie squealed, and then put her hand over her mouth. They didn’t know how much the guard and the coachman could hear from the box. But the coach rumbled on.

  ‘She did not, I found her,’ Henrietta said proudly. She shook her ears. ‘Louis helped,’ she admitted.

  ‘Louis? Really?’ Lily looked surprised. ‘What happened?’

  ‘It took a while for them to put you into the carriage – I think they had to send for this one, it must have some kind of protection worked into it. Anyway, there was a little time, and they were so worried that you might wake up, no one was really watching me.’ Henrietta licked Lily’s cheek apologetically. ‘I didn’t want to leave you, but after what Louis had said about Fell Hall, I was sure that they were going to take you there. I needed to make sure I wasn’t left behind.’

  Lily pulled her closer, wrapping the torn petticoat around the little dog more tightly. No one was going to take her away. ‘You’re so clever,’ she muttered thankfully.

  Henrietta dipped her head gravely – although it was hard for her to look serious, swathed in lacy flounces as she was. ‘Yes. But even I couldn’t have done it without Louis. Probably.’

  Lily frowned. ‘Last I saw of him, Aunt Clara was dragging him away somewhere.’

  Henrietta sniffed in disgust. ‘She lost no time disowning you both. So shocked that she had been housing magic under her roof. Horrified that the little minxes might have corrupted her dear son. And so on and so on. She sent Louis upstairs, she didn’t want the officer looking too closely at him, in case he took it into his head to examine the rest of the family for magic. But Louis crept back down – he saw me coming out of the study. He was sure they’d send you to Fell Hall too. He smuggled me out of the kitchens under his jacket – which is more dignified than a petticoat, Lily, but I suppose you were doing your best with what you had at hand.’ She gave her another forgiving lick. ‘We were just in time to see this carriage draw up. And so I hid underneath it, and then jumped on to the footplate as you set off. Thank goodness the streets were too busy for them to drive fast. But then once we got on to the road out of London, and they picked up speed…’ She shuddered. ‘The first time I fell off I had to run after the coach for at least half a mile. Luckily, there was a farm cart, I had a chance to catch up.’ She sounded matter of fact, but Lily could see that one of her claws was half torn out of its pad, and there were traces of dried foam around her muzzle. The little pug had run after them until her paws bled.

  ‘I can’t do any spells in here,’ Lily murmured miserably, stroking the injured paw. ‘I can’t heal it.’

  Georgie passed her a fine lace-edged handkerchief – which she hadn’t needed to, as Lily could have used a torn-off frill from the petticoat to bind up the bleeding pad. But she knew why Georgie had done it. Her sister hadn’t always got on with Henrietta. It was a gesture.

  Henrietta dabbed Georgie’s hand with her nose gratefully. ‘You’re a good girl.’

  Then she yelped and snapped, as Lily tried to wrap up her paw. ‘Let me do it! Ugh.’ She tugged at the handkerchief with her teeth. ‘That will do, for the moment.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t suppose either of you managed to be imprisoned with any food?’

  The carriage stopped twice more to change horses, but the girls were not allowed out again. Georgie had dozed fitfully, slumped in the corner of the carriage, but Lily hadn’t felt like sleeping. The spell that had knocked her out had left her weary, but too scared to rest. She had never felt magic like it. It had been so strong.

  ‘What sort of magic was that?’ she asked Henrietta.

  The pug sniffed. ‘I don’t know. It affected me too. I’m not a magician, of course, but I suppose you used a spell to bring me out of that painting. So a spell designed to work against other magic caught me as well. I had to have a little rest under your uncle’s desk.’

  Lily laughed. Far from just needing a rest, the spell had made her feel as though she’d died, but was somehow still there to see what was happening afterwards. Then, as she struggled and tore at the suffocating magic, it had taken her over completely – until she’d woken up. Even now she felt as though her magic had gone away, somewhere just out of reach. She couldn’t tell if that was because of the original spell, or if it was just the dampening effect of whatever spells were on the carriage. Hopefully, once they got out, Lily would be able to get hold of her magic again. She missed it so much it hurt.

  At least she had magic, though. She had some hope of fighting back. What had happen
ed to Peter, when these same people had taken him? She bit her lip. There would have been no point in hurting him. So why would they? He would be at Fell Hall, safe. They just had to get him out again.

  And themselves.

  ‘It’s very strange, this countryside,’ Lily muttered. She supposed she didn’t really know enough to say that sort of thing, her whole experience being one small island, and a train journey to London, but the Derbyshire hills felt completely unfamiliar. Peering at them from the small window of the coach, in the dawn light, Lily was almost sure they were the great velvet backs of some sleeping animals. Perhaps an enormous sleeping dragon, undulating across the landscape. The road wove between the crags, and here and there piles of rocks overhung them, teetering, just not quite enough to see.

  ‘Do you think that’s it?’ Henrietta asked curiously. Lily was holding her up against the window, and she had the better view – Lily suspected that for the next few days, anything she asked Henrietta for would be greeted with a downturned muzzle, and a helpless wave of bandaged paw. The next few days… She shivered. Who knew what would happen, when they reached Fell Hall?

  She could see it now too. A pale house, surrounded by trees. It was very beautiful, from the swift glimpse she got as the road curled round another hill, but it didn’t look welcoming. The white stone marked the green landscape like a scar.

  The carriage jolted as they moved from the stone road to a gravelled drive, shaded by enormous trees, and Georgie woke up with a start.

  ‘Are we there?’ she gasped.

  Lily nodded. ‘Almost.’

  Henrietta wriggled down from her lap, and nosed about the floor of the carriage, limping mournfully. ‘Aha. I thought so. There’s a foot-warmer – I’ll hide behind it when we stop, and then I can sneak out when no one’s looking.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Lily asked anxiously, imagining Henrietta transported all the way back to London.

  ‘Of course I’m not sure!’ Henrietta growled. ‘How can I be? But have you got a better idea? I don’t think that wrapping me up in a petticoat is going to work now, is it?’

  Lily shook her head. ‘I suppose not. Just…well, make sure you find us,’ she added, shivering as the great stone house appeared at the end of the drive.

  ‘I promise I will,’ Henrietta murmured, as she disappeared under the seat, and the carriage rolled to a stop.

  Lily shrank away from the window as a dark figure blocked out the light, and the door handle rattled. She hated herself for being so feeble, but the idea of another dose of the spell was terrifying.

  The red-faced guard opened the door, and muttered, ‘Come on out, then. Don’t try anything.’

  ‘I’m quite sure they won’t,’ a sweet voice murmured. ‘They look such well-behaved girls.’

  Lily swallowed, and reached out for Georgie’s hand, and they stumbled down the steps.

  A young woman was standing there smiling at them, in such a pleasant, friendly way that Lily automatically smiled back. Then she noticed that the red-faced guard had turned a greyish-pink, and wondered if someone scarier was standing behind the pretty, brown-haired woman. There wasn’t. It was her he was so frightened of.

  ‘Good morning, girls. Your names?’

  ‘Lily Powers. And my sister, Georgiana,’ Lily murmured. She even bobbed a little curtsey, and the woman nodded approvingly.

  ‘Very good. I am Miss Merganser. I am the warden of Fell Hall.’

  It sounded more like a prison every moment, Lily thought, as they followed Miss Merganser up the steps into the house.

  From close to, it was a greyish honey colour, not the stark white it had seemed against the trees. The same deadening spell from the carriage was wreathed all round it, but Lily was sure that she could sense something else underneath. It wasn’t like Aunt Clara’s house at all – there she’d felt stifled and wrong, all the time. But here there seemed to be a longing for magic. Perhaps Fell Hall had known magic before?

  Or perhaps it was the other children, Lily thought suddenly, as she saw a tiny, thin girl in a grey pinafore hurry across the hall in front of them. She caught sight of Miss Merganser, and flattened herself against the wall, with her eyes downcast. Her lips were moving, Lily noticed, as they passed her. She was silently repeating something to herself, over and over again. Like a spell – although surely not, here.

  Lily had taught herself to lip-read so she could understand Peter, so it was easy enough for her to see what the little girl was saying.

  Please, please, please, please, please…

  Miss Merganser led them into a pretty room, with flowered silk curtains, and ornaments across the mantelpiece. It reminded Lily of the old rose drawing room at Merrythought, that same pleasant faded look. Except at Merrythought there had been paintings – family portraits, mostly. Here the walls were bare – but there were patches of darker, pinker silk, where there had been pictures once. The family had been removed.

  Miss Merganser sat down in a pale pink armchair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and gazed at them, still calmly smiling.

  ‘Powers…’ she murmured. ‘Strangely appropriate. Do you understand why you are here?’

  There was very little point denying their magic now, after the way Lily had fought. They nodded.

  ‘Mr Berryford tells me that you, in particular, are quite the adept.’ Miss Merganser laughed delicately at Lily. Then the smile disappeared. ‘We do not have magic here.’

  ‘There’s a spell on the house,’ Lily muttered stubbornly. They were just as bad as Aunt Clara, pretending that they had no use for magic – except when they needed it.

  ‘Certain spells are still authorised. For protection. And control.’ Miss Merganser eyed Lily thoughtfully, and opened the pretty embroidered bag that was hanging at her waist, bringing out a tiny blue glass bottle like the guard’s. She fingered it lovingly. ‘All the staff have these. And others, should we need them. But no spells are cast at Fell Hall, Lily. All the magic in this house is dead.’

  Lily blinked. Fell Hall! She had suddenly remembered where she’d heard the name. The Fells had been one of the greatest magical families. The great last battle of the Talish War had been fought from here, by magic – how could she have forgotten? After the Decree, the house must have been seized by the Crown, and turned into the reform school. It was a cruel way to show how far the magical families had fallen.

  ‘Only these bottled spells are used here – but don’t make the mistake of thinking that they’re not as strong as fresh ones.’ Miss Merganser put her head on one side, like a little smiling bird. ‘Or perhaps you won’t. You felt our spells, didn’t you? Mr Berryford said he had to use a remarkably strong dose on you, Lily dear. The sooner you understand that magic is wrong, the better you will find your time at Fell Hall. Perhaps, eventually, when you’re older and wiser, you’ll be able to leave.’

  Lily swallowed. Perhaps… What did that mean? She had a horrible sense of the white stone walls closing in around her.

  Miss Merganser delivered them to a classroom, which Lily was sure had once been the house’s library. It was lined with shelves, but they were almost all empty. Perhaps the books had been burned, Lily thought with a shiver. The shelf nearest to the large desk at the front held a few tattered atlases, and something that looked very like Aunt Clara’s embroidery book, but that was all.

  A foxy-faced young man with a large reddish moustache was marching up and down at the front of the room, waving at the blackboard, on which was drawn a squiggly sort of map. ‘Treachery! Defection to Talis, you see? Typical of magicians.’ He was practically spitting with disgust. He glared at the front row of children. The littlest ones, who were sitting on a bench at the front, had clearly been trying not to fall asleep. Several of them had been hastily woken by their neighbours, or the older ones sitting in desks behind them, when Miss Merganser came in. Now they were all quite awake, their eyes flicking between the schoolmaster and the warden, as though they didn’t know which one it was safer to off
end.

  Lily scanned the rows of weary-looking boys for Peter, but she couldn’t see him. Where was he? Were there more boys elsewhere?

  ‘This is what we have to weed out of you! Stand up!’ the foxy man roared, finally noticing Miss Merganser and the girls.

  One of the smallest children fell over instead, sprawling at Miss Merganser’s feet. She looked up with a frightened gasp, and curled herself into a ball, clearly expecting to be struck down with something awful.

  Lily picked her up. ‘Had your feet gone to sleep?’ she asked sympathetically. The same thing had happened to her, when she’d been curled up reading.

  She could hear the indrawn breath from the rest of the class, and as the little girl scuttled back into her place, Lily glanced up at them, and then at Miss Merganser, who was still smiling.

  ‘How very kind, Lily. But we do not encourage talking during lessons. You will soon come to see how we do things, I’m sure. Mr Fanshawe, these are Lily and Georgiana Powers. Go and sit down over there, girls.’ She drew the master aside, speaking to him in a low voice. She gestured to the bag at her waist, Lily noticed, more than once. Clearly she was telling him to beware.

  Lily squeezed on to the bench seat of a long wooden desk, with Georgie next to her, and looked along the row of children. It was separated, girls on one side, and boys on the other. The rows of desks extended back all the way along the room, so that about forty children were squashed in.

  Lily glanced around curiously under her eyelashes. She had so often wished she could go to school, but this wasn’t quite what she had imagined.

  A heavy bell clanged, and the children looked up hopefully, but didn’t dare move, until Mr Fanshawe waved at them vaguely. Then they hurried out, seemingly desperate to get away from Miss Merganser.

  ‘Us too, do you think?’ Lily whispered to Georgie, who shrugged. The girl next to them grabbed Lily’s hand, and pulled her after the others, hustling them all out of the door, along a passageway, and out to the terrace, which led on to tangled, overgrown gardens.