Rose 4: Rose and the Silver Ghost

by Webb, Holly

  ‘What will I do, when I don’t have lessons?’ Rose’s voice was small. ‘I could help in the kitchens anyway, couldn’t I?’

  ‘Of course not!’ snapped Miss Fell. ‘I am trying to get you out of the kitchens, child. You should be in the schoolroom, or the workroom. Or you may sit in your own bedroom, of course. You should practise your sewing, that would be very suitable.’

  Gus gave a short purring laugh. ‘Sitting cross-legged on her bed like a tailor, ma’am? She sleeps in a garret. No chair and only a hook for her clothes.’

  Miss Fell closed her eyes, and shuddered slightly. ‘Of course. Well, there’s no shortage of rooms. I will speak to Miss Bridges about this myself. Perhaps the room opposite mine?’ She asked Mr Fountain out of courtesy, but it was plain that she expected him to do as he was told.

  ‘But I like my room, the one I have now,’ Rose faltered, aware that she was sounding stubborn and silly.

  Miss Fell hardly glanced at her. ‘You are a young lady, Rose. You are being educated. It’s hardly appropriate for you to be living in an – an attic.’

  Rose gulped back a sob. Her precious first maid’s place had gone, and now her little room as well. It was all very well to say that she would have a proper bedroom now, one that suited her station in life, but that room had been the very first place that was hers. The first clothes that had been only ever hers hung on those hooks. Her eyelashes fluttered miserably. She supposed she would have to get rid of those too. In her strange, unhappy mood, she forgot how delighted she had been with the new dress from Venice, and smoothed her too-short dark wool dress lovingly over her knees.

  Why was she so frightened by all this? It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be an apprentice. But it seemed so final, to give up her other life as a maid. It had been there waiting if everything went wrong, she supposed. She could go back to the kitchens, and the way things were before. Rose ground her teeth. The safe way things were before. Gus and Miss Fell were right, even though she hated to admit it.

  But she really didn’t see why she had to give up her little bedroom. ‘I don’t need to move, ma’am,’ she protested politely. ‘I’ll practise my sewing in the schoolroom, I promise.’

  Miss Fell’s eyes skewered Rose like daggers. ‘It is not appropriate!’ she hissed. ‘Not for a…’ She stopped herself sharply, her bony, knobbled fingers clenching into her palms.

  ‘A what?’ Rose asked, confused. Somehow she could feel that Miss Fell had almost said something terribly important, and it was there, just waiting to be dragged into the open, if only she could catch hold of it. She stared hungrily at the old lady, but Miss Fell was sitting calmly, her hands folded around the old silver mirror that she carried in her reticule.

  ‘For a young lady,’ Miss Fell repeated, each word falling into the room, hard-edged.

  Mr Fountain sighed, and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Rose.’

  Rose wasn’t sure whether he was apologising for not treating her like a proper apprentice before, or for letting Miss Fell turn her life upside down now. She suspected he wasn’t sure either. She sniffed pathetically, and Gus clawed her again. ‘Stop it,’ he murmured. ‘Such self-pity. Disgusting. Ask for a new dress, and stop being so feeble.’

  ‘I shall speak to Miss Bridges after breakfast. A meal which you will eat in the dining room, Rose,’ Miss Fell pronounced, and she processed regally out of the room.

  ‘The room on the other side of my room?’ Bella asked, whispering to Rose over her boiled egg.

  Rose nodded. Exactly what she needed. Bella running in and out of her bedroom all the time. Bella had never seen Rose’s attic room – she had probably never gone beyond where the stair carpets stopped, as servants didn’t need carpet.

  Rose smiled into her porridge, wondering whether Bella could possibly be a worse neighbour than Susan, the other housemaid, who couldn’t stand her. But then her eyes filled with tears suddenly. She wouldn’t miss Susan, of course she wouldn’t, the girl had spent weeks torturing her. It would be a pleasure never to see that sharp-featured, sulky face again. But it also meant that Rose wouldn’t see Mrs Jones, or Sarah, or her dear friend Bill – or only in passing in the corridors, and they wouldn’t be supposed to talk. That wasn’t going to happen, Rose told herself. She jabbed her spoon into the porridge angrily, striking a ringing chime from the delicate porcelain.

  Miss Fell looked up sharply. She had taken most of her meals in her room since she arrived, only attending occasional family dinners, and she hadn’t realised that Rose’s absence meant she was eating in the kitchens. This morning she had appeared promptly for breakfast, in severe plum-coloured silk, with an ivory walking stick. She meant to see that her instructions were being obeyed. She frowned disapprovingly at the lapse of manners, but perhaps the stiff set of Rose’s shoulders discouraged her from commenting.

  ‘Oh, good,’ Bella murmured sweetly, and Rose shuddered. Bella sounded altogether too happy about the idea.

  ‘It will be delightful for you, Isabella, to have Rose close by,’ Miss Fell pronounced.

  Freddie smirked, and trod on Rose’s foot. ‘Notice she says it that way round,’ he muttered. ‘Good luck.’

  Rose kicked him in the ankle, hard, and went back to eating her porridge with an angelic expression that she had usefully learned from Bella.

  It felt odd, eating at the long dining-room table. She had eaten with the family in Venice, but that was Abroad, where things were obviously different. Now she couldn’t help feeling as though someone might shout at her for sitting down. She had personally polished the silver teapot that stood in front of her – it was a beast to polish, with all those fiddly little bits around the lid. She kept wanting to smack Freddie for reading a penny dreadful under the table – if he didn’t pay attention, he was going to drop bacon grease on the cloth, and it was impossible to get grease stains out of linen.

  But she was actually drinking out of a cup from the Meissen breakfast service, Rose reminded herself. The tablecloth wasn’t for her to worry about any more. Her fingers felt like sausages around the cup’s delicate handle.

  Miss Fell finished the meagre triangle of toast which had been her breakfast, and stood up. ‘Isabella and Rose, we will discuss etiquette, and the proper spells for managing a well-run household, at eleven o’clock sharp, in my room. I shall go and speak to Miss Bridges about your new accommodation, Rose.’

  ‘Why does she want me to move rooms so much?’ Rose murmered, half to herself as the last whisper of Miss Fell’s silken train died away.

  ‘Don’t you want to?’ Freddie asked, looking up from his comic in surprise. ‘I mean, I could see why you’d want to stay as far away from Bella as possible, but the room you have now, it’s more like a cupboard, Rose.’

  ‘I know. And I suppose I’d like to have a bigger room, it’s just odd.’ Rose glanced over at Mr Fountain, but he was deep in a book, and appeared not to be listening. ‘It feels odd. I – I liked being half-and-half. I’m not a lady, I can’t see how I ever will be!’

  Gus licked the last drops out of a bowl of cream. ‘Miss Fell does seem fairly sure that you are, or should be, already,’ he murmured thickly.

  ‘She’s very set on it,’ Rose agreed in a gloomy voice. It hadn’t taken any of them long to learn that whatever Miss Fell was set on tended to happen, rather fast.

  ‘I wonder why?’ Bella mused, licking egg yolk off a little silver spoon with the tip of her tongue. ‘Why does she mind so much?’ She flicked a curious sideways glance at Rose.

  ‘She’s just like that,’ Freddie shrugged. ‘She wants things her way, that’s all.’

  Bella shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’ She dug her spoon into the egg again, perfectly aware that almost everyone around the table was now staring at her, while she diligently scraped around, finding the last little bits.

  ‘Oh, pick it up and lick it!’ Gus snapped. ‘What are you talking about? What do you know that we don’t?’ His whiskers quivered with irritation.

 
; Bella smirked. ‘I watch, that’s all. I’ve seen how she looks at Rose. And there was the painting, of course…’

  Freddie pushed his chair back with a screech. ‘We all know Rose is the most talented apprentice magician ever. Let’s not go over it again.’ He stomped out, slamming the door loudly enough to shake Mr Fountain out of his book.

  ‘More tea?’ he asked vaguely, waving his cup at Rose.

  Rose filled it, waited until the master was safely back in a world of his own, and then stared at Bella and Gus. ‘What was that?’ she demanded, jerking her head at the door.

  ‘He’s jealous.’ Gus shrugged. ‘You take to spells more easily than he does, or so he thinks. It’s true that Miss Fell doesn’t seem very interested in teaching him. He feels slighted.’

  ‘It’s only because he’s a boy!’ Rose sighed. ‘She’s like Miss Bridges. She only likes tidy people, and he’s always knocking things over. He doesn’t want her teaching him anyway; he’s always trying to get out of her etiquette lessons.’

  Gus snorted. ‘Etiquette. He doesn’t care about that. The woman is one of the most powerful magicians of the age! That’s what Freddie wants, her secrets. He’s an ambitious boy. And she’s giving them to you instead.’

  ‘Oh.’ Rose sounded doubtful. Despite Miss Fell’s obvious power, so far all their new mistress had done was criticise her embroidery – and practically collapse in a painting lesson. Rose did not feel that she was being taught secret, powerful spells. She raised one eyebrow at Bella, who looked equally unconvinced.

  ‘I expect she’ll get to that. Maybe we need to be able to sew properly first,’ Bella sighed. ‘But anyway, Rose, that wasn’t what I meant at all. I mean, you may be good at spells, but you certainly aren’t as good as I intend to be.’ She smirked smugly. ‘I think Miss Fell is interested in you for quite a different reason.’

  She paused, clearly waited to be begged, but Rose wasn’t in the mood. She was still turning over the strange news that Freddie was jealous of her talent. He had been impressed when she first used her magic, impressed and furious that he had been shown up by a servant, but Rose had thought that had worn off by now. ‘Oh, stop being so silly, Bella. If you want to tell, tell. Otherwise I have to go and study that diagram of curtseys before our lesson.’

  Bella pouted, but she couldn’t resist. ‘Oh, Rose, it’s obvious. She knows who you are.’

  She sat back, looking proud of herself, and took a delicate bite of toast. But she was peering sideways at Rose to see how she took the news.

  Rose put her hands in her lap, wrapped around each other to stop them shaking. She had suspected as much, but it seemed so much more real when Bella said it out loud. ‘Why wouldn’t she just tell me?’ she whispered.

  ‘I don’t know…’ Bella said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe she isn’t quite sure? It would be cruel to tell you if she wasn’t certain. Or perhaps she thinks you aren’t ready to know. It might be such an awful truth that it would send you screaming mad.’ Bella crunched more toast. ‘Yes, it’s probably that.’

  ‘She has to tell me.’ Rose sat up straighter. ‘If she knows who I am, she’s got no right to hide that from me! She has to tell!’

  Gus sniggered. ‘Remember what I said about one of the most powerful magicians of the age? I don’t think she has to do anything.’

  ‘Shut up, Gus.’ Rose stared at Bella, her eyes narrowed. ‘Exactly what did you see, to make you think she knows? Did she say something?’

  Bella blinked, a little nervously. She hadn’t seen Rose like this before, and she was frightening. ‘She looks at you… Rose, she…she looks like you. Now, the way you’re glaring at me, you look like her. I think you’re a Fell. And she knows.’

  Gus surged up from the pile of cushions on his chair, and picked his way swiftly through the breakfast things until he was nose to nose with Rose. ‘A Fell. Well, goodness me. The child could have said something useful, for once. A Fell child, in an orphanage. That would be a surprise.’ He sat down, wrapping his tail around himself thoughtfully, and still staring at Rose. ‘Why would a child from one of the most feared and respected magical families in the world end up in an orphanage, Bella?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Bella shrugged. ‘But you think I’m right, don’t you?’

  ‘Possibly. Possibly.’ Gus purred with satisfaction. ‘This really is turning out to be a most interesting day.’

  ‘It isn’t just an interesting thing to talk about over breakfast!’ Rose hissed at him. ‘This is important! How are we going to find out if we’re right?’

  ‘You could ask her,’ Gus suggested.

  Rose shuddered. ‘No. She’d just give me one of her looks, and tell me my petticoat was showing. If it was that simple, she’d have told me already, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘I’m all out of ideas, then.’ Gus yawned, deliberately widely. ‘Time for a sleep, I think.’

  ‘I’ll help,’ Bella suggested hopefully. ‘Please, Rose. It was me that told you. Let me help.’

  Rose nodded reluctantly. Bella was right. She was the one who had noticed. It wouldn’t be fair to shut her out now. ‘Can you think of anything?’ she asked.

  Bella frowned. ‘Nothing very clever,’ she admitted. ‘But I wonder if we could search her room. There must be something in there. Old letters perhaps. Some clue to who you are.’

  Rose swallowed, but her mouth still felt dry. She’d had a horrible feeling that Bella would say something like that.

  ‘Hesitating to say it for the third time, but one of the most powerful magicians of our age. Hmm? I think not the best person to burgle.’ Gus jumped off the dining table, hitting the polished floorboards with a solid thump, and strolled out of the door, his tail-tip whisking happily. Rose stared after him, wondering who he was going to tell.

  ‘Simple persuasion spells can be very useful, but in general, servants and magic do not mix.’ Miss Fell continued. She was sitting in a wing chair by the window of her room, where she taught Rose and Bella most of their lessons. They were perched on footstools in front of her chair, trying to concentrate on the proper management of servants. Rose couldn’t help feeling that she knew rather more about servants than Miss Fell ever would. Between that and trying to look for clues without Miss Fell noticing, she was finding the lesson hard to attend to. It didn’t help that she had to keep elbowing Bella, who had no idea of discretion, and kept turning round to stare at anything that looked like it might be useful in their search.

  For once, Miss Fell was not sitting bolt upright. She looked tired – which Rose couldn’t help feeling was her fault. The old lady didn’t usually come downstairs for breakfast, preferring to take a tray in her room. By accidentally waking her this morning, Rose had added several hours to her day.

  As she tried to concentrate on the old lady’s fluting voice, Rose wondered how old Miss Fell really was. Rose had had some experience of glamours, but she had no sense that Miss Fell was using one. She just was one of those people who always looked perfect, even in her nightgown. Even now, only the purple shadows under her eyes, and her slightly huddled position in the chair, showed that she was weary. She was holding her pretty silver-framed mirror in her gnarled hands again, and she stroked it as she talked, gently running her fingers around the delicate frame.

  ‘Rose, dear, pay attention,’ Miss Fell scolded. ‘And don’t frown like that, child! You will have wrinkles before you’re twenty if you sit and scowl. Really, direct sunlight and excessive facial expressions – ’ Rose had to think for a moment before she decided this probably meant smiling was outlawed as well – ‘are the ruination of the complexion. Don’t frown, and never let me see either of you in the sun without a parasol. Rose, you are still frowning! Here, dear, look.’ She handed Rose the silver mirror. ‘Just look at the creases between your eyebrows. Disastrous.’

  Rose took the mirror with a strange little skip of frightened excitement inside, and smiled sadly at her own anxious face in the tarnished glass. She nodded obediently at Miss Fell, an
d tried hard to flatten out her forehead, but it seemed to want to crease.

  It was as she was handing the mirror back that it happened. The face seemed to come sliding out of the frame, as though the glass had been pulled sideways. Rose thought it was her own reflection for a moment, and some strange fault in the old glass had twisted it about. She had seen what was called a haunted mirror in the magicians’ supplies shop that she ran errands to for Mr Fountain. The younger Mr Sowerby had shown her one to make her jump at her reflection all stretched out. But this was more than just old glass. The face was hers, but not. It was her, but older, and how could that be, unless the glass had some strange glamour spell on it? There was something else dragging at the corners of her memory too, a certainty that she had seen this face somewhere else. Rose tore her eyes away from the girl staring back at her, and looked up at Miss Fell, her mouth open to ask. But the old lady hadn’t noticed what had happened and was still lecturing Rose on the perils of scowling. She simply held out her hand for the mirror, and laid it back in her lap. She gave no sign that she expected Rose to have seen anything odd.

  Which left Rose wondering, was she the only one who saw strange faces in that glass?

  ‘What was it?’ Bella demanded, a little while later. As soon as they had been dismissed by Miss Fell, she had hauled Rose along to her own bedroom, and practically shoved her into the windowseat. ‘Come on, Rose! The mirror, what did it do?’

  ‘Did you see it?’ Rose asked her sharply.

  ‘No!’ Bella smacked a cushion crossly. ‘I knew it, there was something. You went the strangest colour. What happened? Was it one of your strange pictures? Oh, was it something about the war? I saw a paper on Papa’s desk which said that the Talish are most definitely making plans to invade. It said one of their plans is to fly across in huge balloons, but I can’t believe that’s true.’