Rose (13 page)

“Depends how good they are,” said Freddie, shrugging. “Does it say where they've gone?”

“No, just
Found
by
her
family
on Maisie's.” Rose glanced over the others. “And these are the same. No addresses. You'd think they'd keep an address, wouldn't you?” Rose nibbled the side of a nail, pulling at the skin.

“Lily's only four, Freddie…”

Freddie sighed. “Get the locket, Rose. There's nothing else, is there?”

Rose crept back to the glass case by the window. Maisie's locket was in one corner, resting on the faded purple velvet lining. Rose knew even more certainly that she would never have left it behind. Even with its chain broken, it had been unbelievably precious to her. If anything could lead them to Maisie, it would be this.

***

Rose clutched the locket tightly. She could feel the scratched pattern on the metal digging into her fingers, and it felt like she would have flowers engraved on them forever by the time they reached home. But the locket reminded her of Maisie so clearly—she was sure that if only they could stop for a moment, she could scry for her now in its tarnished silvery surface and not need a mirror at all.

“Hurry up!” Freddie urged, grabbing her hand and pulling her along.

“What's the matter?” Rose murmured vaguely. She was still dazed from knowing that those other girls she'd known were lost too. Little Lily—the last time Rose had seen her she'd been upside down in a washing basket, hysterical with giggles at the excitement of Miss Bridges visiting. And then just a few days later, someone had stolen her away, and she'd become part of a strange, diabolical plot. Rose was wandering through the black streets of a dream world.

“Wake up, Rose!” Freddie shook her arm.

Rose blinked at him crossly. Couldn't he see that she was thinking about important things?

“There's someone following us…” Freddie hissed. “No, don't turn around! We aren't that far from home, and we can make a run for it once we get into the square. I shouldn't think they'll follow us there. Just walk fast and pretend we haven't noticed! I made a mistake using this lantern, people can tell it's magical. I bet that's what they're after. They think we've got stuff worth stealing.”

Now that she knew they were there, Rose could hear the pattering footsteps, and the whispery breathing behind them. It sounded horribly close. They walked on a few more steps, then all of a sudden Rose couldn't bear it any longer. The hoarse-voiced whispers seemed to be breathing down her neck. She whirled around, pulling Freddie with her, and holding up the locket as if it were some kind of weapon—a fragile shield.

“What do you want?” she screamed, and the ragged group of children shadowing them stopped a few feet away.

“You're not taking us!” a little girl around Isabella's age shrilled at them. “We'll get you first!” She was shaking with fear and determination, her eyes huge and bright in her dirty little face, and her fingers curled into angry claws.

“Shut up, Sal!” An older boy stepped forward protectively, holding out a knife. His little brother—their faces were so alike, he had to be—followed. He was armed only with a stick, but he looked desperate enough to use it.

“Where's our sister? What have you done with her, you monsters!” the older boy growled. “You take us to her now, or I'll cut you to ribbons!”

“What are you talking about?” Freddie snarled disgustedly. “Get away from us!”

Rose glanced at Freddie, shocked at the coldness in his voice. She'd hated him at first, but she'd grown used to his airs, and for the past few days she'd been thinking of him as a friend, or at least as an ally. Now all at once she saw him as the street children did—his shirt shining white in the lantern light, a perfectly fitted suit, neatly tied bowtie. Only the knees of his breeches were grubby from hauling himself up and down walls. He was from another world.

She smiled apologetically at the older boy, but the naked fear and distrust in his face stabbed into her far harder than the knife still shaking in his outstretched hand ever could. She was with Freddie. She
looked
like Freddie—clean, prosperous, far better fed than these poor castaways. The smile vanished from her face.

“I'll do it! I will!” The boy's voice was higher now as he stepped forward, squeaky with fright.

“And I will too!” the little girl rushed forward at Rose. “Give her back! She's only a baby!”

Freddie tried to push Rose behind him into the safety of a doorway, but she shook him off as the tiny girl clawed at her arm and tried to bite her. “Stop it! Freddie, help me hold her. She's biting me!”

The two boys circled around them, their faces desperate. “Give her back and we'll let you go! We won't let you take Sal too!”

“What makes you think we want her?” Freddie said contemptuously, gripping the skinny child's wrist and holding her away as though he couldn't bear to touch her.

Sal was so thin it was like holding sticks that wriggled. “Keep still!” Rose told her. “You've got it wrong! Will you stop doing that? Ow!” Rose lost her temper as the child managed to bite her hand at last.

“We don't know anything about your sister, and we don't want this one either!” She flung Sal back toward the boys, not being particularly careful. “You drew blood, you little weasel!”

Sal scrambled up and spat at her.

“I've had enough of this!” Freddie snapped. “Dirty little guttersnipe!” And he threw the lantern at the ground where it shattered and flared into a protective wall of greenish flames across the doorway.

“You didn't tell me you could do that!” Rose said admiringly.

“Yes, well, you never said you could talk to trees. You lot, back off! Go on, leave us alone, or we'll set it on you!” he hissed.

The children drew back, their faces pinched with fear, but they didn't run.

“That proves it. It's them, it has to be,” the older boy told his brother. “You take Sal back. I'm not giving up. You hear that?” he yelled at Rose and Freddie. “I'm not going, whatever you do. You've got to put that fire out to move, so I'll wait.”

Freddie looked at the flames, and Rose nudged him.

“He's right, you know. It looks good, but we can't get past it either…”

“Actually it doesn't really burn, but I don't want them knowing that. I thought they'd just run away,” Freddie muttered back. “Why aren't they running? I'd run…”

“They've got something more important to worry about. Hey, when did your sister go missing?” she called to the boy.

“You know!” he yelled back. “You took her, murderers!”

“You've got it all wrong. They took my friend. We're trying to find them too!” Rose came closer to the flames, trying to see their faces. “They took Maisie from St. Bridget's, the orphanage. You followed us from there, didn't you?”

The boy lowered his knife, very slightly. “They aren't taking ones like you…” he said doubtfully.

“What do you think I am?” Rose asked. “I'm a housemaid. I came from St. Bridget's. I'm not
like
anything!”

“What about him?” The boy waved the knife at Freddie.

“He's from the house where I work. He's helping me, I promise!”

“She had magic, the one who took Annie,” the little girl said defensively. “I saw!”

“You've seen who's taking them?” Rose gasped, and stepped through the fire-wall without thinking. The children backed away, gaping, as the flames licked around Rose's boots.

“Wonderful, now they know it doesn't burn,” Freddie said, following her, and dousing the flames with a wave of his hand. “I can do other stuff, you know,” he threatened, pointing menacingly at Sal.

“Freddie, don't! They've seen her, listen! What did she look like?” Rose begged. “Someone's taken four girls from the orphanage, pretending they were family. And it's been in the papers, children stolen from the park, and even one from her own bedroom. There'll be more, I know there will. You have to tell us!”

Sal's older brother was looking at them suspiciously, but he'd at least stopped brandishing the knife. “She was a magician,” he said slowly. “That's why we thought you were part of it, going about in the middle of the night, waving that unnatural light around.”

“She told us she was just borrowing Annie!” Sal put in. “Taking her for a treat, she said. We weren't to worry.” The boy shook his head. “And we believed her. I don't know why. It seemed to make sense, until we woke up under the bridge the next morning, and we couldn't understand why Annie wasn't there. Only Sal remembers properly.”

“She was beautiful.” Sal nodded importantly. “And tall. And she had green eyes that glittered.”

“She must have not bothered with the glamour carefully enough,” Freddie said.

“Maybe she didn't think she needed to…” Somehow that made Rose feel angrier than anything—that the kidnapper hadn't even bothered to deceive these children properly because she didn't think they mattered.

“Can you help us get her back?” the oldest boy asked gruffly.

“Yes,” Rose told him. “There can't be two lots of people stealing children, can there? So when we find Maisie, we're bound to find your Annie too. We've got a plan.”

“Which
might
work,” Freddie put in, but Rose elbowed him.

“It will! It's got to,” she added grimly. “But I can feel it will, like the locket's trying to tell me where Maisie is. I know we can find them.” Looking at Sal and her brothers' desperate faces was like seeing her own fear.

The locket had to work.

“It's still just dark!” Rose hit the table angrily, then winced, sucking the side of her hand. “Oww.”

“There's no point losing your temper with it,” Gus told her in an annoyingly calm voice.

Rose whirled around, still holding the mirror, and nearly swept him off the table. He didn't flinch, but his ears and whiskers flew back as if he was in a strong wind, and he looked up at her warily.

“Don't! Just—don't!” she snarled. “Smug know-it-all cats are not what I need right now. Find a spell or something. We have to
make
this work. We don't have much more time. If Susan goes to wake me and I'm not in bed, I'll probably be dismissed.” Rose sighed. “I'm sorry, Gus. I know you're tired too, working the spells on the windows for us. But you didn't see those children tonight, and you don't know Maisie. I can't be calm. I'm not calm! I'm frightened!”

Gus dug his claws in and out of the tabletop, thoughtfully. “Have you considered that the darkness might be right?”

“What do you mean?” Rose stared at him, and Freddie looked up from Prendergast where he was rereading the scrying instructions again, in case they'd missed something the other seventeen times.

“We-ell, perhaps Maisie is in a dark place…” Gus glanced nervously at Rose, his shoulders slightly hunched, as though he expected she might throw something at him.

Rose sat down suddenly, as though her legs had been taken out from under her. Luckily she'd been next to a chair. “You mean, we've done it right, but this is all we're going to get? Even with the locket? That can't be it, Gus. We need more!”

“Perhaps we're searching for the wrong thing.” Freddie laid the book down and came over to stare into the mirror. “We've been trying to find
where
Maisie is. Maybe we need to look for something else.”

“Like what?” Rose's voice was doubtful.
Where
was what they needed right now.

“Umm, like who took her? Could you look for that? Maisie might know, and if we find out who the kidnappers are, it could lead us to all the children.”

“We already know there's a lady magician involved,” Rose agreed. “Sal saw her. We can try, I suppose.”

“And this time, try putting the locket on, instead of just holding it,” Gus suggested. “It might help.”

Freddie helped her tie the broken chain around her neck. The locket felt warm and almost alive—like a little bit of Maisie. The thought made Rose smile, and she stared down into the mirror with new hope.

“Who stole you, Maisie?” Rose murmured out loud without even realizing what she was doing. The locket seemed to flutter on her chest, like a tiny bird, and a face suddenly appeared in the mirror.

Rose screamed with shock and flung the mirror across the table. She felt as though a spider had just walked across her hand.

The face was Miss Sparrow.

***

The mirror had cracked right across its surface, but the face had stayed, covered now with a sickening web of fine lines. Rose could hardly look at it. It made her skin crawl. Freddie and Gus crouched next to the mirror where it lay on the floor—no one wanted to pick it up.

“I knew I didn't like her, but I didn't think she was a kidnapper,” Freddie murmured.

“Is it—reliable?” Rose asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Gus nodded, still staring at the face. “I think so. It was a clear question, and we can't deny the answer.” He shook his whiskers irritably. “Even in a glass, her face captures you. It isn't just a glamour. It can't be.”

“Have you ever been to her house? With Mr. Fountain?” Rose asked, edging back around the table so she didn't have to look at the mirror again.

Freddie shook his head. “No. He visited her last week, but he didn't take me. That's when he first met her, but she'd been corresponding with him for a while before that. It was something to do with his gold spells, but of course they're secret. She wanted to use one of them for something else. He said she was brilliant, she had ideas no one had ever thought of before. I think he was a bit worried too, at first. Some of the ideas were very strange. But—after he met her…” Freddie shrugged, turning away from the face in the mirror. “Anyway, I don't know where she lives, but I get the feeling it isn't far from here. He definitely didn't take the carriage.”

Rose gave a huge, sudden yawn that made her jaw crack. “Ohhh, I'm so tired…Freddie, what are we going to do with—that?” She nodded toward the mirror. Gus was still leaning over it, fascinated. His whiskers were trailing perilously close to the surface, and he suddenly jumped as though he'd been stung.

“Powerful magic,” he muttered, shaking his ears like a cat who'd been caught in the rain. “Strong stuff. Intoxicating, almost…” He sounded regretful, and Freddie and Rose stared at him reproachfully.

Gus sighed. “I know, I know, but Fountain hasn't done any exciting new magic for days—more than a week I've gone without it. There's just such a good smell about real magic. I want to know what she's been doing.”

“So do I,” Rose whispered. “And I don't think it smells good at all—what's that?!” She jumped up, pointing. There'd been a scuffling sort of noise outside the workroom door, and now the handle was slowly turning.

Everyone in the house was asleep, or should have been—it was four o'clock in the morning. Somehow, knowing that made the simple turning of a white door handle one of the most terrifying things Rose had ever seen. She backed into the table, her breath tight in her chest.

Freddie picked up the mirror, wincing as though it were hot, and held it behind his back. Gus jumped onto the table, standing protectively between them.

When the door slowly opened to reveal Isabella in her nightgown, clutching an oversized doll, everyone felt rather foolish.

Then Isabella smiled sweetly, and Rose began to wonder if they hadn't been so foolish after all. Isabella closed the door behind her and leaned on it gently, smiling around at them all. She looked remarkably like her doll, with the same golden curls and an identical perfect pink-and-white face.

“You aren't supposed to be here,” Isabella pointed out, still smiling.

“No more are you,” Freddie retorted stoutly, but Rose noticed he was glancing sideways around the room, looking for some sort of rescue, as if it were going to come creeping out of the walls.

“But you woke me up!” Isabella said innocently, opening her big, blue eyes wide. “You frightened me! All that banging and chattering on the wall outside my bedroom. I thought it was
burglars
!”

“Nonsense! If you'd really thought it was burglars you'd have screamed like a banshee and stuck your head under the pillow,” Gus told her. He looked unimpressed.

“It was her bedroom we were climbing past?” Rose whispered to Freddie. They'd had to call to Gus to let them back in. Rose had tried politely asking the wisteria if it could knock on one of the first-floor windows for them, but it had ignored her. Obviously it did emergencies only. From the way the leaves shuddered, Rose wondered if she'd been rather rude asking. She'd apologized.

They hadn't been very quiet climbing back up, Rose thought to herself. They'd made it home safely, and they were triumphant and jumpy and nervous about trying to scry again. It was no wonder they'd been heard.

Freddie nodded. “I suppose.”

“You could be dismissed, you know,” Isabella pointed out to Rose, in the most friendly fashion.

Rose eyed her, trying to work out what she wanted.

“Yes,” she agreed. It seemed to take the wind out of Isabella's sails slightly, but only for a moment.

“You're having an immoral tryst,” she reminded Rose, as though she thought Rose ought to be rather more worried about it.

“I most certainly am not! Miss,” Rose added at the last minute. She'd got used to not calling Freddie sir, and to thinking of him as someone she could actually talk to. It made it hard to remember that she was supposed to fawn over Isabella.

“We aren't!” Freddie agreed disgustedly. “Don't be such a little prude, Bella. Anyway, you aren't really so innocent. You're just pretending to be Little Miss Morals to scare Rose.”

Isabella stared at the ceiling, and said in a rather sing-song voice, “But I could tell. All I'd have to do is scream, and
everyone
would come running. Then you'd all be in awful trouble, wouldn't you?”

Freddie sighed. “All right. What do you want?”

Isabella beamed at him. “I want to know what you're doing,” she told him simply. “Where did you go?”

Freddie looked apologetically at Rose. “We'll have to tell her. She's the most terrible little actress, and she's got no conscience whatsoever. She
would
get you dismissed if she felt like it.”

Isabella didn't seem to mind being talked about like this. She looked smug. “It's quite true,” she told Rose proudly. “I've seen off the last two governesses, and I wouldn't give Miss Anstruther more than a couple of weeks. I'm aiming for nervous prostration with her, for variety.”

It was hard to believe Isabella was only seven. She sounded like an accomplished conspirator. Rose began to wonder if she might be rather useful to have on their side. “We're trying to rescue a friend,” she told the younger girl carefully, wondering how much she ought to let her know. “Lots of people, actually, but only one that we really know. Her name's Maisie.”

Isabella sniffed rather dismissively. She obviously wanted more details.

“They've been kidnapped. By—by a lady magician.” Rose wasn't sure what to say about Miss Sparrow. She didn't think Isabella would believe them. Mr. Fountain was so enamored that marriage was beginning to be rumored in the kitchen, so presumably she'd been introduced. But the little girl's head snapped up, and she stared at Rose.

“Who?”

“The Sparrow woman.” Freddie passed the mirror gingerly to Isabella, who dropped her doll and snatched it eagerly.

“That's horrid,” she whispered, entranced. “I knew there was something wrong about her, I knew!” Surprisingly, when she looked up, her face was gleeful. “She wants to marry my papa, and I shan't let her! I knew she wasn't good for him, and now no one can say I'm just being selfish, like Miss Anstruther did, not if she's a kidnapper.” Isabella's eyes seemed to harden to glinting jewels. It struck Rose that Miss Anstruther would be lucky to last another two weeks. Her comments had clearly stuck, and Isabella wriggled irritably as if to shake them off.

Freddie sighed. “Who knows how we're going to stop her, though? She's—well, she's very good. And we're not. To be honest.”

“I am.” Isabella beamed at him. “And I'm quite ruthless, everyone says so.”

“But what are we going to do?” Rose tried hard not to let a whine creep into her voice, but she was tired, and her legs ached from climbing, and she just couldn't think what should happen next.

Isabella glanced at her contemptuously. “Servants have no initiative. Or moral fiber.”

Rose felt a surge of anger rush around her body. It did very well at waking her up. “I've only been a servant for a week and a half, miss. I've got some fiber left,” she said. Then she wished she hadn't. Isabella was so spoiled, all the servants said so.
No
one
answered her back, not even her father, who thought she was an angel. She'd probably have a screaming tantrum now and wake the whole house. Rose gave Freddie a panicked glance, and he rolled his eyes at her. He'd automatically hunched his shoulders as though he was preparing himself for a storm to blow over his head.

Isabella looked at her interestedly, her cheeks slightly flushed. Perhaps she was considering a tantrum—Rose had the feeling that Isabella did very little that wasn't carefully thought through. But she appeared to decide against it. “Don't you
care
that I could get you dismissed?” she asked Rose, coming to stand near the table. Without even bothering to look at him, she held out her arms to Freddie, and obediently he picked her up. Holding her at arm's length as though she smelled, he sat her on the table, from where she could look down at them all.

Gus moved to the other end quite fast, and Rose wondered if Isabella had pulled his tail, from the way he wrapped it around himself so carefully. It almost seemed to have stretched. Surely it hadn't been long enough before for the end to tuck right under his paws like that?

Isabella surveyed them, like a princess and her courtiers. Then she settled on Rose. “You aren't just a kitchen girl,” she said accusingly.

“I'm an underhousemaid, miss,” Rose said, though she knew perfectly well what Isabella meant.

“Don't play stupid,” Isabella sighed, sounding at least three times her age. “You aren't that either.”

“She's better at magic than I am.” Freddie had grown tired of the fencing. “But she's an orphan, Bella. Her parents left her in a fish basket!” He still sounded as though he couldn't understand the contradiction. Rose supposed it just wasn't how things happened. Magicians bred more magicians. But they must have started somewhere…

“How very odd.” Isabella looked Rose up and down even more thoughtfully. “I dislike fish.”

“So do I, miss.” Rose stared back. Isabella seemed to have got past the sacking stage, and Rose thought she rather enjoyed having someone fighting back for once.

Isabella nodded. She was silent for a moment, then she stated firmly, “I want to help.”

“You can't. If we get you lost, your father will—well, I don't want to think what he'll do.” Freddie exchanged a nervous glance with Gus, whose ears went flat again. They were the ones who knew just what Mr. Fountain
could
do. Rose didn't want to think. Especially as it was likely that Miss Sparrow could do it as well.