Bessie Bell and the Goblin King

by Charlotte E. English

  ‘Yes,’ said Isabel. He stared at her, surprised, and she smiled. ‘We must not forget: she is no unwitting victim of your sister’s. She volunteered herself for this predicament, and for my part I found her to be a capable, intelligent woman of sound good sense. Whatever it is she is attempting to achieve, she may be relied upon to carry it off.’

  ‘You cannot possibly understand how dangerous any sister of mine could be. A daughter of my father’s! And I believe her to be a sorceress.’

  ‘Nonetheless,’ said Isabel steadily.

  She exchanged a look with Sophy, who nodded. ‘Believe me, Grunewald, we are concerned for Bessie as well. But Isabel is right, and Tal. To ride in now would expose you, or anybody else, to danger, and would disrupt whatever it is that Bessie has in hand. We ought to have confidence in her. And besides…’ She hesitated, and looked at Balligumph.

  ‘We need ‘er there,’ said Balligumph bluntly. ‘No one else can get anywhere near yer sister, exceptin’ as she wills it. Only yer Bessie has managed t’ pull that off. An’ therefore, only Bess ‘as the smallest chance o’ findin’ out what yer sister’s fixin’ to do in these parts. An’ wi’ no information, we ‘aven’t a clue what to do.’

  ‘But,’ said Grunewald coolly, ‘She is not a spy.’

  Aubranael spoke. ‘Believe me, Green, I understand your feelings. If it was my Sophy trapped at Hyde Place with such a person, I would be half-mad with worry! But—’

  ‘That is naught to the purpose,’ snapped Grunewald. ‘Bess is not such to me as to—’

  ‘—but,’ continued Aubranael with stubborn persistence, ‘the ladies are right. Besides which, she will not be unaided.’

  ‘As far as I can tell, she is stranded there with no help at all!’

  Balligumph folded his arms and cleared his throat, a powerful sound which cut across Grunewald’s next words. ‘Savin’ yer Majesty’s presence an’ all? If ye’d cease yer grouchin’ fer a minute or two, I will explain wha’ the fine folk in this room ‘ave come up wi’ between ourselves.’

  Grunewald fixed Balligumph with a baleful stare, but he fell silent. He was virtually powerless to do more than object, a feeling which he did not at all like. He had little to do, just at the present, but listen.

  ‘Very good,’ said the troll with a toothy smile. ‘Well then, here is what we ‘ave fixed upon.’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Yer a mite too big for stealth,’ Bess observed, looking up and up at the troll. ‘I dunnot suppose Grunewald means to return just yet, but he will soon know yer here if he does.’

  Balligumph grinned. ‘I ‘ave folk on the watch fer ‘im,’ he said comfortably. ‘Your Grunewald, that is. The real one is snug at Somerdale wi’ Mrs Isabel. Mighty concerned wi’ your well-bein’, he is.’

  Bessie thought this unlikely, and said so.

  ‘Tis the truth!’ Balligumph protested. ‘We ‘ad to restrain ‘im, near enough, to prevent ‘im from ridin’ straight over here, fog an’ darkness notwithstandin’, an’ bringin’ you out at once.’

  ‘By this I am to collect that you’re in favour o’ my stayin’ put.’

  ‘Aye. Ye’ve yer wits about ye, an’ I’ll not lie. We need someone to keep an eye on this Grunewald-lookalike we ‘ave on our ‘ands. But ye’ll not be left to do it alone. I ‘ave brought ye a pair o’ friends.’

  A glint of something caught Bess’s eye as he spoke, but it was not until he reached the end of this speech that she realised what it was she saw: a drifting bubble, almost the same hue as the mist. Only the faint gleam of wisp-light upon the bubble’s shell had alerted her to its path.

  ‘Ahoy, Drig,’ she said.

  A deep chuckle sounded in the night, and then a greenish wisp lit up a few feet from the ground, revealing Drig’s face. He, too, appeared ghoulish in the faint, sickly glow, and Bessie thanked her stars that she was of a sanguine disposition. ‘Ma’am,’ he said.

  ‘That’s formal. When did I become worthy o’ “ma’am”?’

  ‘When you threw caution to the wild winds in order to help our Gent. It’s my belief that the fetch has an eye to the Goblin Throne, and I’d liefer not have to accustom myself to a new Gaustin.’

  The Goblin Throne? Nothing the fake Gaustin had hitherto said had implied as much to Bessie, but she imagined Drig to be a better judge of goblin ways than she could be. She tucked that idea away, to be investigated as the opportunity presented itself. ‘Yer Gent has a fine mess on his hands,’ she said. ‘And he is not at all used to cleanin’, poor lamb.’

  Drig grinned. ‘He has had too much time to become bored, and boredom soon leads to complacency.’

  Bess nodded in agreement. ‘You said a pair of friends?’ she said to Balligumph.

  The troll held out a dark bundle by way of reply, and Bessie instinctively put out her hands to receive it. The bundle proved to be warm, and perhaps a little frightened, judging from the way a small pair of hands clutched at her. ‘BessBess?’

  ‘Derri!’ Bess beamed upon the brownie in delight, though she did not suppose that her joy would be visible in the gloom. She would have resisted all attempts to compel her to admit it, but she had been feeling a little concerned. The presence of two friends, however diminutive, eased her heart and bolstered her resolve. ‘But should you be here?’ she said to the brownie. ‘Tisn’t a lark, Derri-my-darlin’! There’ll be trouble if you’re caught prowlin’ about around here.’

  ‘Little danger o’ that,’ said Balligumph cheerfully. ‘There’s no less than two witches in residence at Somerdale this evenin’, an’ they have worked a wily bit o’ magic on yer friend there. Brownie she is in truth, but to those as may feel suspicious, she’ll seem a goblin in disguise. Such as the rest o’ the fae-folk at Hyde Place.’

  All the brownies hereabouts were goblins cloaked in Glamour? Bessie was not much surprised at it.

  ‘I couldn’t stay at Somerdale!’ said Derritharn. ‘Not when I knew you was here, and alone!’

  Bessie was touched. ‘You’re the best friend I ever had, Derri. I just hope I ain’t leadin’ us all to disaster.’

  ‘Drig an’ Derri will be yer extra pairs of eyes,’ said Balligumph. ‘Yer task, fer the three o’ ye, is to find out all ye can about the new master o’ Hyde Place, an’ what’s really afoot wi’ all this play-actin’. Drig will arrange to get word to Somerdale, when ye need to report sommat, or if ye need help.’

  ‘I have a report to make at once,’ said Bessie. ‘I had some speech wi’ the fetch already. She was askin’ a deal o’ questions about the families hereabouts, an’ whether any have been showin’ signs o’ bein’ other than human.’

  Balligumph’s great eyes narrowed. ‘Which families do ye mean?’

  ‘Only the prominent ones, so far. The rich folk.’

  The troll grunted. ‘I ‘ave a notion in mind what that’s about, an’ I like it not one whit. Take this as a warnin’, Bess: Grunewald reckons as how this sister o’ his was a staunch supporter o’ the Kostigern – ye know who I mean by that? – an’ is but lately come out o’ the Torpor.’ He stopped suddenly, and blinked at her. ‘Wait. Ye know the fetch is a lady?’

  Bessie cursed herself for that slip. ‘Aye,’ she said, but did not advance an explanation.

  Balligumph squinted at her. ‘Ye’d best tell as how ye know that, lass. It may be important.’

  Bess sighed, and fished her jar of stolen fairy ointment out of her skirt pocket. Balligumph’s eyes widened when she took off the lid, and held the jar up to the light. ‘How did ye come by that?’

  ‘I, um. Grunewald… gave it to me.’

  ‘The real one?’

  ‘Aye.’

  Balligumph mulled that over, and his eyes crinkled at the edges. ‘I believe I understand.’

  ‘There is somethin’ else,’ Bess said hastily. She recounted the rest of her conversation with the fetch, and the interest Grunewald’s sister had shown in the Hollow Hills – and the prospect of there being an entrance somewhere in the count
y.

  Balligumph had no theory to offer on this point. He shook his great head, and grunted. ‘I know naught o’ what that may signify, but I am glad t’ know it.’ He patted Bessie upon the head; the gesture was no doubt a gentle one, from his perspective, but Bessie felt it as three great blows atop her skull which left her ears ringing. ‘Ye’re already o’ more use an’ importance than ye know, lass. Bless yer stout heart.’

  ‘I have one question,’ said Bessie.

  ‘Aye.’ The troll tilted his head in a posture of absorbed interest.

  ‘How vile a temper is Grunewald in?’

  Balligumph chuckled. ‘Viler than vile, though he’s hidin’ it well.’

  ‘He’ll recover,’ said Bessie wisely.

  ‘He had better,’ said Balligumph, with no trace of a chuckle. ‘He needs t’ keep hisself sane an’ thinkin’ clearly.’

  ‘Some would say as sanity isn’t our Gent’s strong point.’

  Balligumph grunted again, but Bess could not decide whether the sound indicated agreement or dissent. ‘Ye’d best get on inside,’ he said, making an away-with-ye gesture with his enormous, thick-fingered hands. ‘Yer Gent-as-says-she-is will be comin’ back sometime, an’ besides, ‘tis growin’ mighty cold.’

  Bess permitted herself to be ushered back in the direction of the house. Drig’s night-eyes served better, in this endeavour, than her own, even with the assistance of his greenish wisp-lights. They were cautious, on the watch for any sign that Tatterfoal and his rider had returned; but there was no sign of either.

  Bess took her friends and co-conspirators up to her room, taking the precaution of keeping Derri under wraps for the present. She released the brownie the moment the door was shut behind them, unwinding the folds of the oversized cloak Derri had been hiding inside.

  ‘Well, now,’ said Bess, hands upon her hips as she surveyed her little crew of spies. ‘We’ve a deal of work to do, and had best get on. What manner of plan have the two of you in mind?’

  ‘Drig has been teaching me how to pass for a goblin,’ said Derritharn, fastidiously dusting down the skirt of her ragged dress.

  ‘And you have learned nothing,’ said Drig in disgust. ‘Stop fussing over that dress. It is worthless, and therefore, no goblin worth the name would feel the smallest interest in its cleanliness or lack thereof.’

  Derritharn looked faintly injured, but she obeyed. ‘We are to mingle with the fae-folk here,’ she said to Bess. ‘If they know aught of the not-Master’s business, we will soon know it too.’

  ‘I am to appear in the character of a turncoat,’ Drig said, with an evil smile which chilled Bess to the core. ‘I’ll be in good company in this house, I imagine.’

  Bessie spared a moment’s pity, faint though it was, for any goblin found to have transferred his or her allegiance to the fetch; Drig would not be lenient upon them. ‘And I shall work upon the fetch,’ she said firmly. She ignored the look of trepidation Drig thought it necessary to adopt. ‘I shall wait in the drawing-room.’ She swept downstairs without awaiting a response, leaving Drig and Derri to find their way to the kitchens.

  The drawing-room was empty, as she had hoped. She ensconced herself in comfort before a lively fire, determined upon awaiting the return of Grunewald’s sister, no matter how long delayed it may be. But the hour grew so far advanced, and Bessie’s tiredness so extreme, that she was at last obliged to abandon her plan, and retire to bed. She had some hopes of hearing something of Drig and Derritharn’s escapades among the servants before she closed her eyes in sleep, but she saw nothing of them. She lay in bed, her sleep-dazed mind struggling to refine the details of her newest plan in Grunewald’s aid. At last she slept, trusting to the morrow to bring her the chance to carry it into action.

  Her opportunity arose early indeed, for when she appeared at the breakfast table on the following morning she found Grunewald’s fetch seated before an empty plate, a fresh newspaper spread before him.

  ‘Good morning, Grunewald,’ said Bess as she made her way to the dishes spread out temptingly upon a side-board.

  ‘Bess.’ The fetch fixed Grunewald’s bright green eyes upon her, in a scrutiny she found disconcerting. Determined to show nothing of her unease, Bess devoted herself to the acquisition of a fine breakfast, and took her place at the table with a pleasant smile for her host.

  ‘I have determined upon giving a ball,’ said the fetch.

  Bess paused in the act of slicing through a hunk of ham, and blinked at him in surprise. ‘That is a sudden idea.’

  ‘Is it? But nothing could be more likely. A single man in my position, in need of a wife? It is natural that I should open up my house to my neighbours.’

  Bess perceived that Grunewald’s sister had learned something of the role her brother had been playing in the neighbourhood, and its implications. ‘Are you seeking a wife?’ she said carefully.

  ‘I am as intent upon matrimony as ever my neighbours could desire.’

  Bess chewed thoughtfully upon a mouthful of bread. ‘In that case, it seems a mite strange that you waited more’n a year to make your choice. And that you require yet another meetin’ wi’ these folk before you can decide upon who to ask. Have you not met them times enough already?’

  The fetch frowned. ‘I am indecisive.’

  Bessie shook her head. ‘That will not do, I am afraid. You’ll be needin’ a much more convincin’ tale.’

  ‘A tale?’ A dangerous note entered the fetch’s tone.

  ‘Aye.’ Bess finished her eggs, and took a sip of tea. ‘You should know somethin’, afore we waste any more of each other’s time.’

  Grunewald-the-fetch sat back in his chair and directed such a perfect mimicry of his sceptical, incredulous look at Bessie that she felt a hint of doubt: was this indeed not Grunewald? But the evidence of her anointed left eye reassured her. Gracious, but the woman was a skilled actress.

  ‘I am perfectly aware that you ain't Grunewald,’ said Bess, looking the fetch squarely in the eye.

  This was a gamble. Bessie had thought long and deeply about her predicament, and what she hoped to achieve. She had concluded two things: firstly, that to expect to live in the same house with the fetch for an unknowable period without ever once giving away the extent of her knowledge was unrealistic. She was but human, and by no means immune to error.

  Secondly, Balligumph’s notions agreed with her own. She needed to win information from Grunewald’s impersonator, but it would be difficult indeed to do so whilst they were both maintaining a pretence. She must contrive a way to persuade Grunewald’s sister to trust her – and subsequently, to confide in her. Even a very little confidence might make a significant difference.

  But to deliberately cut through the deceit and expose the full extent of her knowledge was dangerous, and she knew it. How would the fetch react? Would she accept Bess’s potential usefulness as a confederate, or would she find her too knowing, and remove her?

  ‘I might ask,’ said the fetch after a long silence, ‘how it is that you came to discover that.’

  ‘We had an agreement, you see,’ said Bess apologetically. ‘Grunewald and me. He was to give a sign, when he saw me, and I’d know it for him.’

  ‘Ah.’ The fetch gazed at Bess, narrow-eyed, and quietly closed the newspaper. ‘You have given away your advantage in informing me, have you not? What can you mean by it?’

  ‘Grunewald thinks you are after his throne.’

  ‘Does he.’

  ‘Are you?’

  The fine red eyebrows rose, and Bess found herself subjected to a display of derision. ‘You imagine I shall take you into my confidence, do you? I wonder why.’

  Bess finished her meal, and pushed away her plate. ‘The fact is,’ she said with a confiding air, ‘I have a fancy to rise in the world. ‘Tis tiresome in the extreme, cleanin’ up after the important folk.’

  ‘You would like to be one of them, I suppose? Wouldn’t we all.’

  ‘I would. But Grunewald ain’t li
kely to oblige me; not wi’ my background.’

  To her surprise, Bessie detected a flicker of emotion; something she had just said had touched the fetch more deeply than she had anticipated. But it was gone, too swiftly for her to identify what it had been. ‘And?’ said the fetch. ‘I suppose you have some manner of service to offer me, in exchange for later favours.’

  ‘I can help you wi’ Grunewald, if you want him out of the way. Any trap needs bait.’

  The fetch considered this for so long, and so silently, that Bessie’s confidence began to bleed away. If her gambit had failed, she was likely to be in trouble. How undesirable, for Grunewald to regain possession of his house only to find naught left of Bessie but an unpleasant smear upon the carpet. That would be embarrassing.

  But the fetch did not obliterate Bessie. ‘If you deliver Grunewald, I shall see you richly rewarded.’

  Bessie breathed again. ‘I look forward to the fruits of your good favour. But there is more yet that I can do fer you. This ball you mentioned. What are you fixin’ to achieve?’

  Suspicion crept back into the fetch’s face, and he frowned.

  ‘I dunnot need details,’ Bessie hastened to add, with a wave of her hand. ‘Just a notion as to what yer wishin’ to get out of it.’

  ‘I have been riding around the country in hopes of finding … something of importance. It occurs to me that the search may proceed more quickly if I bring the objects of importance to me. And happily, I have a fine, large house to accommodate the process.’

  ‘Ah. So it is a large gatherin’ of yer neighbours you’re wantin’. The more, the merrier?’

  ‘Among the families of breeding, certainly. What I seek is unlikely to be discovered among the low-born.’

  ‘What you’re wantin’ is a grand society event, then, but it won’t do to put it about that you’re seekin’ a wife. Mr. Green came here more’n a year ago, wi’ another young man, and a finer pair o’ bachelor gents you can scarce imagine. The whole town was wild for them for months together; aye, and folk far beyond as well. But Mr. Stanton left, and Mr. Green… well, he is still a bachelor. The mamas hereabouts gave up on him long ago.’