Welcome to your new home. I hope you will be comfortable here. I am sorry I was not able to greet you on arrival. However, I would like to invite you both to dine with me at Waning Crescent this evening. I shall expect you at seven o’clock.
Yours sincerely,
Lord Skinner
The paper was plain, heavyweight, unenchanted, and the letter itself was written in a strong hand with no excess flourishes. It was handwriting you could trust.
Don’t trust Lord Skinner, her father had said. Reading the letter again, Ava felt suffocated.
‘We should have bought food while we were in town,’ Matthew said, coming into the kitchen. ‘Tomorrow’s Sunday and everything will be shut. Do you want to run back and get some supplies while I start unpacking?’ He noticed the piece of paper in Ava’s hand. ‘What’s that?’
She handed it to him, her hand trembling a little. ‘An invitation, I think – or a summons.’
CHAPTER 2
When you’re angry, when you’re sad,
Put it in the mirror and you won’t feel so bad.
Let your reflection take your pain
And you will be quite happy again.
You shouldn’t say things like that to children.
Children will believe anything.
(Yes, I know the last two lines don’t rhyme. I’m not a poetry book, all right?)
The Book
Wyse’s high street was quieter when Ava walked back along it, looking for the bakery. The protesters in front of the theatre had dispersed, leaving a scattering of crumpled leaflets on the ground. Ava kicked one aside, her bag bumping heavily over her shoulder as she walked. She kept her head down, pretending not to notice when people turned to watch her walk past.
‘That’s her,’ she heard one man say. ‘The one who . . . You know.’
But when Ava turned to ask what he meant, the whole group was hurrying away.
‘Excuse me,’ Ava called after them loudly. They turned back, looking at each other and the pavement, anywhere except at Ava. She smiled sweetly at them. ‘Could you tell me the way to the baker’s, please?’
The relief that flooded their faces as they pointed down a side road was so intense that Ava had to bite her lip to stop herself giggling.
Turning on to the road, she spotted the baker’s shop halfway along. It looked empty, but the door opened when she pushed it.
‘Hello, are you open? My brother and I have just moved here, and . . .’
A head popped up from behind the counter. Ava blinked. ‘And we need bread,’ she finished. ‘I saw you before. You gave me a leaflet.’
The boy grinned, his round face dimpling. ‘Yes, I did.’ He wiped his hands on his shirt and held one out over the counter to shake. ‘Charles Brunel. Of Brunel and Son’s Bakery – that’s my father and me. My mother runs Freedom for Fair Folk.’
He stared hard at her as they shook hands, his gaze taking in the smudges on her dress, then flicking up to her face. Ava saw him notice her measles mark, but he didn’t react to it with the usual curiosity or embarrassment; he just gave it a quick look and went on to study the rest of her.
‘It’s actually quite rude to stare,’ Ava said, drawing her hand back.
‘Sorry. I don’t get much chance to practise.’
‘You practise staring?’ She shook her head. She could feel herself getting drawn into a conversation she didn’t want right now. ‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘Can I just have some bread?’
Charles turned and started pushing bread rolls into a paper bag. ‘Everyone’s talking about you,’ he said. ‘Matthew and Ava Harcourt. They’re wondering what you’re doing back here. They think your brother must have bribed Lord Skinner into offering you work – either that or you cast an enchantment on him.’ He spun the bag to seal it, watching Ava out of the corner of his eye.
She raised her chin and glared at him. ‘My parents died of typhoid fever,’ she said stiffly, ‘then Matthew and I ran out of money and we had to move. Lord Skinner offered Matthew a job so we came here. If we could have afforded a bribe we wouldn’t have needed to come. As for casting an enchantment, do I look like a conjuror?’
Charles set the bag down and rested his arms on the counter. ‘No, but you should never judge by appearances. That’s the first thing you learn if you’re a policeman.’
‘A policeman?’ Ava looked about at the flour-dusted shelves. ‘I thought this was a bakery.’
‘It is. I’m helping out here for now, but I’m going to be a policeman when I grow up. We just got our first constable in Wyse and it’s amazing. You get to wear a uniform and help solve crimes. Is it true you nearly died of measles once?’
Ava put a hand involuntarily to her cheek. ‘I had measles when I was two. I don’t know about nearly dying. I should go. We’re having dinner with Lord Skinner this evening.’
‘Really?’ Charles’s smile faltered and quickly recovered. ‘I’m sure you’ll like him. Everyone does.’
‘You don’t sound like you do,’ Ava said.
Charles shrugged. ‘I don’t really know him. But being a policeman is all about noticing the details.’ He handed her the bag of bread rolls. ‘Everyone says Lord Skinner is a fine gentleman – but they say exactly that, like they’ve learned the words or something. And there’s this funny smell sometimes.’
‘A smell?’
‘You’ll see what I mean. Watch for the things other people might miss. The truth is in the detail. There’s no charge for the bread. Welcome to Wyse.’
Charles’s words echoed in Ava’s mind as she paused at the entrance to Waning Crescent later that evening. A pair of iron gates stood open, leading to a wide, curved avenue with a semicircle of lawn surrounded by tall, white houses. None of the street lamps were lit yet, except a pair halfway along, which burned with a flickering, pale green light.
‘Fairy lights,’ Matthew said. ‘I remember them.’ He looked less sure of himself now that he was standing outside his new employer’s house.
Ava shivered as a breeze tugged at her best dress. She wrapped her shawl closer.
‘I could tell Lord Skinner you’re ill if you don’t want to come,’ Matthew said.
Ava shook her head. She couldn’t let Matthew face Lord Skinner on his own. Besides, after what Charles had said, she was curious to see him.
They walked along the crescent until they came to the fairy lights, which stood either side of a vast pair of doors.
‘Here goes,’ Matthew said, and tugged the bell pull.
The doors opened so quickly that Lord Skinner must have been waiting behind them. Ava stepped back in surprise.
Matthew had said Lord Skinner was large, but the man who opened the door wasn’t just large – he was enormous. His jacket flapped around him, big enough to fit twenty people inside it, and his blue velvet waistcoat strained over his vast stomach. Rolls of fat drooped from his chin and wobbled when he moved his head. Even his feet were fat, overflowing out of shiny, black shoes.
‘Mr Harcourt,’ he said, holding out a hand to Matthew. ‘Welcome. I am Lord Skinner. My condolences for your loss.’
Surely lords didn’t open their own doors? Ava realized she’d been staring and curtsied quickly, her face burning.
Lord Skinner offered her his hand too. His hands were surprisingly thin compared to the rest of him, his slender fingers as dry as old paper, and he gripped Ava so hard that it hurt. So far everything about him felt solid and reassuringly real, not a single hint of fairy enchantments. She guessed he was about forty or fifty but it was hard to tell. His hair was greying, but only around his ears. He smelled quite normal too – Charles must have been making that up to tease her.
‘Come along in,’ Lord Skinner said, releasing her. ‘Time and supper wait for no man.’
Ava glanced at Matthew. He seemed different, happier. Some of the worry lines had faded from his face, making him look younger. He already liked Lord Skinner, Ava thought, and why shouldn’t he when Lord Skinner seemed perf
ectly fine? Father and Charles had both been wrong, and she was glad – glad to see Matthew smiling again.
Eagerly she followed Matthew through the doors into Waning Crescent.
There, she stopped dead.
The hall was full of mirrors. A jumble of different-sized silver frames hung from floor to ceiling. Chandeliers swayed overhead and the reflected candlelight blazed so that Ava almost felt as if she was stepping into a fire – except for the cold. Even the warmth of all the candles couldn’t mask the chill. She turned slowly, seeing her face everywhere, the pale mark on her cheek standing out.
‘Waning Crescent used to be a museum of fairy magic,’ Lord Skinner said, smiling at her confusion. ‘These are all old magic mirrors, their magic long dead. When I moved back to Wyse, I decided to keep them all as reminders of the past.’
Look for the details, Charles had said. Looking about, Ava noticed marks on the wall where several mirrors looked as if they had been rearranged. She ran her fingers across one of them, wondering what magic glass felt like. It felt just like ordinary glass, but then the mirror no longer worked. Perhaps an active one would feel different.
‘You won’t be seeing any fairies in them, I’m afraid,’ Lord Skinner said, smiling. He paused to the side of the mirror. ‘Are you interested in fairy magic, Miss Harcourt?’
Ava jerked her hand away from the glass, embarrassed he’d caught her looking.
‘My sister is at the age where she’s interested in everything,’ Matthew said drily. ‘My apologies.’
‘Not at all. Curiosity should be encouraged in the young.’
Ava shot a triumphant smile at Matthew. Lord Skinner didn’t seem so bad, after all.
‘Do you know why the mirrors stopped working, Lord Skinner?’ she asked.
Lord Skinner walked on down the hall. ‘No one does. There are various theories – the Industrial Revolution meant we no longer needed magic and so it dwindled through lack of use. Or maybe the mirrors were never meant to last forever. We have six working mirrors in Wyse now – that’s all. Six conjurors who supply all the souvenir shops and ensure the town appears suitably magical for the holidaymakers. I oversee the legal and taxation side of things and make sure the conjurors follow proper health and safety requirements.’
He didn’t look at any of the mirrors as he walked past them, Ava noticed, but led them on annoyingly quickly when she wanted to linger and look at them all. Only six working mirrors left, out of hundreds.
‘What will happen if the last mirrors stop working?’ Ava asked.
Lord Skinner spread his hands in a helpless shrug. ‘Then Wyse will be just an ordinary town, and I . . .’ His gaze drifted. ‘Well, the mirrors have lasted so far. Let’s hope they continue to do so. Now, I’m sure you’re both hungry. This way.’
A pair of servants opened the doors at the end of the hallway and stood aside to let them through. Ava stole a glance at one of them, an old man. He stood stiffly to attention, not even looking at her as she walked past.
‘This is the banqueting hall,’ Lord Skinner said. ‘I normally reserve it for government functions, but I thought we’d eat here tonight.’
Ava shivered as she looked around. The room was vast and, although the fireplace was almost as tall as she was, the warmth from the fire barely reached her. Arched windows overlooked the lawns outside and a table stretched the length of the room, but there were only three places set, at the end closest to the fire.
‘Please do sit down,’ Lord Skinner said, squeezing himself into the chair at the head of the table. Most of himself, anyway.
More servants appeared through a door at the corner of the room, so quietly they might have come out of thin air. Ava watched as one poured water into glasses and another placed a soup plate in front of her.
He’s not what he seems, Father had said. It didn’t matter to Ava whether Charles was wrong or not, but could Father have been wrong as well?
Lord Skinner took a big gulp from his spoon, swallowing noisily. ‘You’ll find Wyse a friendly town once people get to know you,’ he said. ‘By the way, Miss Harcourt, you will be pleased to know that I have secured you a position as housemaid with Mr Edmund Footer, your cousin, and his mother.’
Ava dropped her spoon with a clatter. She bent to retrieve it and found one of the servants was already there.
‘Sorry. Mr Footer and his mother? Didn’t they buy Father’s house?’
Lord Skinner nodded, apparently oblivious to the storm of anxiety inside her. ‘The house, the furnishings and your father’s magic mirror, of course. I did wonder whether you might mind going to your old home as a maid, but then I reasoned you probably wouldn’t remember it. You were so young when you left.’ He broke a bread roll in two and reached for the butter dish. ‘Better to work within the family if possible, I thought.’
Something sharpened in his eyes – something cold and hungry. At the same moment, a waft of strange scent surrounded her – damp ground and old leaves and something Ava couldn’t identify, though she was sure she’d smelled it many times before. Her chest tightened.
Then a servant slipped a clean soup spoon beside Ava’s hand and as she moved to pick it up the scent faded. She’d probably imagined it, she thought. What did it matter where she went to work? As Lord Skinner said, better to be with family than strangers.
‘That sounds perfect,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
Lord Skinner sat back. ‘Excellent. You are to start work there on Monday morning. Tomorrow, you may wish to attend church, but if you prefer to stay home and settle yourselves in I’m sure no one will think any the less of you. Now, tell me about yourself, Mr Harcourt. Your parents settled in Cambridgeshire – that’s a long way from Wyse.’
The conversation continued. The soup bowls were quietly collected and fish appeared, then a whole side of roast beef. Lord Skinner carved it himself into thick slices that oozed red juices. The servants cleared their plates and set down trays of blancmange and sponge cake.
Ava sat quietly. She didn’t know why Charles had warned her about Lord Skinner. He was a fine gentleman. She caught herself. A fine gentleman. They say it like they’ve learned the words or something.
She realized Lord Skinner had spoken to her and she jerked her head up. ‘I’m sorry, I . . .’
‘I was telling Mr Harcourt about the theatre,’ Lord Skinner said. He put a forkful of chocolate sponge cake into his mouth. ‘You should go to see a conjuring show when you have the opportunity. I’m sure you’d find it interesting.’
His faded blue eyes sharpened again. Had he guessed she dreamed of conjuring? Ava shifted in her seat. ‘Mirrors are handed down through families, aren’t they? Is that why Mr Footer is able to use Father’s – because he’s his nephew?’
Matthew coughed pointedly, but Lord Skinner didn’t seem to mind the question. If anything, he looked pleased at Ava’s interest. ‘That’s right. Mirrors are usually passed down from father to son, but they don’t have to be. It is said that the original conjurors had some fairy blood in them, which was why they could use the mirrors, and that ability runs through families.’
Through families? Then that meant . . .
Lord Skinner nodded as if guessing her thoughts. ‘Your father was a conjuror, Miss Harcourt, and that means you have fairy blood in you. What do you think about that?’
Matthew laughed. ‘By your reasoning, I have fairy blood too, and anyone who’s descended from a conjuror. That’s probably half of Wyse, at least. You may even have fairy blood yourself, Lord Skinner. We could all use magic mirrors if we wanted to.’
Ava scowled. Trust Matthew to make the whole thing sound ordinary. That odd smell came back, just for a moment, and she stifled a yawn, suddenly exhausted, as if all the rich food she’d eaten was weighing her down.
‘Do forgive me,’ Lord Skinner said. ‘As I said, my interest is merely administrative. I’m happy to leave magic to the conjurors.’ He stood up. ‘Well, it’s late and you’ve had a long journey today. I’
ll have my carriage take you home.’
Ava’s head swam as she climbed into the waiting carriage and it wasn’t just because of the rich meal. She couldn’t decide what she thought about Lord Skinner at all. He seemed nice, perfectly normal, not somebody to beware of. And yet . . .
‘He’s a fine gentleman,’ Matthew murmured.
Ava stiffened. ‘What did you say?’
‘Lord Skinner. He’s a fine gentleman, don’t you think?’
Ava did think it. The words lodged in her head as if she’d memorized them, just like Charles had said. She folded her arms, trying to think of something else. ‘I don’t believe he’s not interested in magic. Waning Crescent is practically a museum of magic with all those mirrors. He’s supposed to be the minister in charge of magic. If you’re in charge of something, you should be interested in it.’
‘Not if you’re in the government,’ Matthew said drily.
‘Be serious. Father said not to trust him. Are you saying we should ignore Father?’
‘No, I’m saying . . . I don’t know. Lord Skinner seemed perfectly reasonable to me. Let’s give him a chance, all right?’
Ava nodded reluctantly. They were stuck here for now, and they had to make the best of things.
Beyond the iron gates, all the street lights were burning now with a green-golden glow that made the whole crescent appear like something out of another world.
CHAPTER 3
I bet you’re wondering when we’ll get on to the fairies. Don’t deny it – I know what you’re thinking: I am a mind-reading, future-seeing book from across the mirror, after all. Human creatures are all the same – only interested in the magic. Come on, then. You might as well take a look at what’s happening in Unwyse while there’s still time. In case everyone dies.
The Book
Howell hated going out on Sundays. It was the one day of the week humans didn’t send orders through the mirrors, and the streets of Unwyse were full of people doing their own shopping. Already, he’d been shoved, stood on and elbowed aside more times than he could count.
Mirror Magic Page 2
