Bessie Bell and the Goblin King

by Charlotte E. English

  ‘You have some alternative idea?’

  ‘If there is one thing folk love more’n wealthy bachelors,’ said Bessie, choosing her words carefully, ‘it’s a prospective wedding. Supposin’ Mr. Green lived more’n a year in these parts and overlooked every last one of the proper young ladies as was thrown in his way – only to become engaged at last!’

  Grunewald’s leaf-green eyes narrowed. ‘Engaged?’

  ‘There is nowt to pique the interest of yer neighbours like a sudden engagement.’

  ‘I see. And to whom am I to engage myself?’

  Bessie smiled. ‘You may Glamour me into any role you choose.’ She thought for a moment, and then added, ‘Or not.’

  ‘Engage myself to a servant? I would attract the contempt of all my neighbours, I suppose.’

  ‘Which would do nothin’ good to Mr. Green’s reputation,’ said Bessie with a smile. ‘Derision you would certainly face, but also curiosity. They’d shun Mr. Green for certain, but first, they’d be fallin’ over themselves to get a look at the schemin’ wench as had contrived to catch him. Give 'em somethin' to interest them together wi' a nice scandal, and you’d be sure of bringin’ everyone to yer house in short order.’

  ‘And it would do you no harm whatsoever, would it?’ said the fetch. ‘What a coup for you!’

  ‘It would amuse me more’n a little,’ Bessie allowed. ‘And it gives you a fine reason to hold a ball here, at short notice, when Mr. Green ain’t never done so before.’

  ‘An engagement ball.’ The fetch stared unseeingly at the wall for some moments, and Bessie waited in mild trepidation for the result of her gambit. ‘Very well,’ came the decision at last, and Bess’s heart leapt. ‘You will assist me to the names and directions of all of the worthier families in these parts.’

  ‘I dunnot know all the directions, but names I can do.’

  ‘Let us begin at once. The invitations must be sent immediately, for I will brook no delay.’ He rose from the table and left the room, motioning for Bessie to follow. She went with him to the library, whereupon he produced sheets of paper and a pen and said to Bess: ‘Names.’

  Bessie began with the Adairs. Having lived in Tilby for most of her life, and worked at more than one house in the neighbourhood, she was well supplied with information as to the inhabitants the fetch sought to meet. Indeed, her knowledge stretched farther abroad even than she had anticipated, and the task took half an hour to complete.

  When at last her recollections ran dry, the fetch set down his pen and surveyed the long list with satisfaction.

  ‘Word will spread,’ Bess predicted. ‘And more will come, even wi’ no proper invitation.’

  ‘Very good.’ The fetch folded the list, and placed it inside a pocket of his waistcoat. ‘You prove useful, thus far. Continue to please me.’

  He left the room without another word, and Bessie enjoyed the pleasure of breathing freely for the first time that morning.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grunewald sat in the parlour at Somerdale. The morning was but barely advanced, and he was not at all accustomed to such early hours. That must account for his being so out of humour.

  Or perhaps it was the disobliging way in which his thoughts would keep straying to the wretched creatures who had taken up residence in his house. He could not account for the existence of a sister he had hitherto known nothing of; and Bessie’s behaviour was no less unfathomable! He experienced the unsettling feeling of being wildly out of control: of his house, his connections, his kingdom and (in short) his entire life. It was as though a carpet had been abruptly pulled from beneath his feet, and all he had been able to do in response was tumble, helpless, to the ground. Whereupon every person of his acquaintance had taken an offensive delight in stepping upon him.

  The one advantage to early rising, he reflected, was the peace and quiet it afforded, for few stirred at such an hour. It provided such an excellent opportunity for uninterrupted brooding.

  He had scarcely formed this thought when the door opened, and Sophy stepped in. He ought, he decided at once, to have ventured out into the gardens, and accepted the soaking he would receive in consequence. A little rain would, in all likelihood, be less irritating to his nerves.

  ‘It appears we are to congratulate you, Grunewald,’ said Sophy, and waved a neat ivory-coloured card in his direction.

  ‘I have not the pleasure of understanding you,’ he said.

  His tone could not deter Sophy. ‘Why, you were the unhappiest of men! So long a bachelor! Could anything be more dispiriting? But now you are to satisfy the dearest wishes of all your friends.’ She held out the card, and he took it, conscious of a sensation of deepest foreboding.

  A few seconds’ perusal was enough. The Aylfendeanes of Somerdale (and their guests) were invited to present themselves at Hyde Place on the evening of the thirty-first of October, in order to join with Mr. Green in celebrating his recent engagement.

  Nothing else was said.

  Grunewald suffered an almost overpowering desire to tear the invitation into pieces at once, and possibly to burn them. Before he could enact this terrible destruction upon the unoffending paper, he quickly handed it back.

  ‘I look forward,’ he said with forced calm, ‘to meeting the lady I am to marry.’

  ‘Indeed!’ said Sophy, and fell into an armchair. ‘It is to be hoped that she is a congenial young woman, and not too ill-favoured. Shall you object very much to an unusually prominent nose? In your situation – so long unwed! – you must not expect to carry off any great matrimonial prize.’

  ‘I imagine I am to find her on the thin side, dark of hair and possessed of remarkably poor grammar.’

  Sophy’s eyes twinkled merriment at him. ‘Yes, it must of course be Bess’s doing. I wonder what her plan can be!’

  ‘To cause as much trouble as possible,’ said Grunewald shortly.

  ‘I am sure it would amuse her very greatly if it did. But she has been clever. Here is precisely the opportunity for which we did not dare hope! In two days’ time, we may see for ourselves what goes on at Hyde Place, and determine how we are to proceed. We may even succeed in taking some form of action against your sister, and liberating our Bess and your house at the same time.’

  Grunewald had no response to offer. If Bessie’s motive was unclear, his sister’s was still more so. What could she intend by throwing open the doors of his house, and employing all possible means of inducing the entire neighbourhood to visit her there? Sophy’s mood was sanguine, and her lively mind saw much to amuse her. But Grunewald felt too much foreboding to join in her merriment.

  Did she indeed seek to claim the Goblin Throne? The possibility had crossed his mind more than once. Her commandeering of Tatterfoal, and her influence over the Darkways, both suggested it; and he had reason to believe that she had successfully subverted some of his people. That he was watched whenever he ventured to Aviel, he did not doubt.

  But if it was his throne that she desired, why had she not made any direct move to claim it? He no longer doubted that she could mount a significant bid to depose him, if she chose, and he would be sorely pressed to defend his claim. But she had not.

  And there remained the question of Tatterfoal. If Balligumph was correct, she had been riding across Lincolnshire, and perhaps beyond, in an attempt to wake others from the Torpor; fellow supporters of the Kostigern, most likely. People that he, and Balligumph, and Lyrriant, would rather not welcome back to wakefulness. But to what end?

  The problem was a tangled one, and this latest move on his sister’s part aided him but little in discerning her purpose. Sophy wandered away again, with a view to sharing the news with the rest of the household. After her departure, Grunewald sat for some time in thought, but with little result. He had not yet information enough to guess at his sister’s mind; he must simply wait, for the present, in hopes that the spies they had inserted into Hyde Place would be able to bring more useful reports.

  But to sit and wa
it while others exerted themselves on his behalf was intolerable. Worse, when the one who strove for his information was Bess. She should not be facing his sister alone – or at all, if he had his wish.

  This decided, he rose at once and went in search of Isabel’s husband. Contriving to speak with him alone was harder than he had anticipated, for it seemed as though the whole household was on the watch for signs of rebellion on Grunewald’s part, and his desire to have a word with the master of the house drew suspicion upon him at once. It required all of his verbal dexterity to allay the suspicions of his fellow prisoners – no, no, guests – at Somerdale, and carry Tal away to the Orangery, which few had cause to visit at this time of year.

  This accomplished, he proceeded to justify every one of his hosts’ suspicions by immediately entreating Tal’s assistance.

  ‘I am worn half-mad with waiting,’ he said without preamble. ‘Tell me, man. Were it you in my position, could you sit and drink tea and merely hope that all is not badly amiss elsewhere?’

  Tal sighed, and sank into a chair. ‘Yes,’ he said bluntly. ‘But only because I was forced to. How do ye imagine I felt, only a few months ago? Knowin' that my Isabel was out somewhere in Aylfenhame, seekin' the means t' free me from a bindin' curse, an' without my aid? Considerin' my history, I could scarcely hope that she could contrive t' find my name without facin' some manner o' danger on my behalf. But I could do nothin', and go nowhere. I have never experienced such frustration – or such anxiety — in the whole course o' my life. Not even in the midst o' the conflict.’

  Grunewald nodded. ‘In war, at least you were able to take a proper course of constructive action.’

  ‘Indeed. An' I dared not even show my fear, in case I should alarm Isabel an' make her burdens the greater.’ A faint, crooked smile drifted across Tal’s face. ‘I had been hopin' ye would not think to ask my aid.’

  ‘Unfortunately, I imagined that you would be unable to refuse me.’

  ‘Though I fully understand the concerns o' my wife, I cannot leave you in such a predicament. What would ye have me do?’

  ‘Little enough. I must see Bess, and to Hyde Place I go. But if you would make some excuse for yourself, and take my place for an hour or two, I should appreciate it very much. I can make you look like me.’

  Tal nodded thoughtfully. ‘But this is not merely to allay the concerns of Isabel and Sophy?’

  ‘In part, but not wholly. I credit my sister with admirable guile, and considerable forethought. She has had me watched at Aviel for days, and I think it not unlikely that she may have eyes upon Somerdale as well. Eyes upon me, in short, wherever I may go. If she is to receive reports upon my whereabouts, I would like her to hear that I have remained comfortably shut up at Somerdale this whole morning.’

  Tal readily agreed to this, and the business was soon accomplished. Grunewald left Tal ensconced in his former chair in the best parlour, scowling at a newspaper spread over his lap with every appearance of impatience and ill-humour.

  Grunewald, meanwhile, let dissipate the vision of the pale, red-haired man he usually wore, and wove a new Glamour. He gave himself the weather-beaten appearance of a country squire much addicted to outdoor pursuits, together with a bulbous nose, twinkling grey eyes and a shock of greying brown hair. His garments became of the well-worn, practical variety adopted by such men, and he imagined a weather-defying hat for his head.

  Thus equipped, he stole a horse from the Somerdale stables and set out for Hyde Place.

  The morning was not yet far advanced, and he met few upon the roads. Rain drizzled unhelpfully upon him throughout the journey, for the sky was thick and grey with ill-promise; but he ignored these conditions, and rode with swift purpose to the house which, until recently, he had called his own. Less than twenty minutes’ riding at a steady pace brought him to the handsome building he had grown to love, and he rode straight around to the stables at the rear and dismounted.

  The place felt different to his senses, in some indefinable way. It was not so welcoming as it had been, though not precisely hostile either. Merely… strange.

  He stepped into an empty stall within the stables, and adjusted his Glamour once more. A few moments later, a footman stepped out into the courtyard behind Hyde Place. He was a youthful, energetic lad with perhaps only twenty years behind him. His name was Matthew, and his semblance was usually adopted by one of Grunewald’s most trusted retainers.

  Grunewald-as-Matthew stepped into the house and walked quickly through the servants’ quarters, as though employed upon some urgent errand. The cook aimed a somewhat waspish comment at him as he went past, which told him much, though he did not stop to converse with her. Grisha – shrouded in the semblance of a middle-aged, blonde-haired woman of comfortable size – was, under ordinary circumstances, a patient and good-tempered goblin of the Tykal tribe. That she could speak so to the person she thought to be Haglan, a fellow of her tribe and a friend of many decades, spoke of significant unease on her part. She knew, then, that something was amiss at Hyde Place, though perhaps she did not yet understand that her master’s place had been taken by another. If his sister could fool Tatterfoal, she could certainly fool Grisha.

  Having successfully navigated the servants’ quarters, Grunewald stepped out into the main part of the house – and paused. Where could he expect to find Bess? And where was his cursed sister? He ought to avoid the latter, until he had successfully removed Bessie. Then he may proceed with the second part of this morning’s plan: that of ousting the pretender. He would take a great deal of pleasure in it.

  His dilemma was resolved upon stepping into the great hall. He heard, faintly but distinctly, the sounds of somebody singing from the floor above. The voice was low and female, and he knew at once that it must be Bessie – though he could not have said how. He followed the song up the grand stairs and into the left wing of the house, and into the drawing-room. He paused on the threshold long enough to establish that she was indeed alone, and then he entered the room.

  Bessie sat in the window with a pile of fabric in her lap. She was making a creditable appearance of sewing, like any good young lady of breeding, though he discerned at once that she had not set a single stitch of it herself. She was really employed in watching the front of the house, for the window overlooked the main gates. She was dressed in a gown he had not seen before: green velvet with a high collar of gold silk, and matching underskirts. It was almost of the present fashions in England, but not quite. Her abundant black hair was loose about her face, which most definitely did not coincide with English fashion. Her head turned as he entered the room, and she surveyed him with unruffled composure.

  ‘Yer sister went away someplace,’ she said without troubling to greet him. ‘She weren’t willin’ to tell me her business, though I did ask.’

  Grunewald felt peculiarly crestfallen. ‘You know me, then.’

  ‘Aye. Not that it ain’t a worthy disguise.’

  ‘I am delighted to win your approval.’ He abandoned the Glamour that disguised him as Matthew, and resumed his usual appearance. With a slight cough, he added, ‘Would you care to tell me what gave me away?’

  ‘I would not.’

  He blinked. ‘That was, in truth, a request.’

  ‘Or a command? I know it.’ Bess grinned at him, and set aside her sewing. ‘I have arts and ways of me own.’

  ‘If it is to be mystery, so be it. I shall not entreat you.’ Grunewald went towards her with his hands out, and felt obscurely pleased when she readily took them. He looked her over carefully for signs of anything amiss, but she looked much as he could hope: healthy, and whole. ‘Very well. You have had a fine adventure, my baggage, and now we are to depart. Have you anything here you would wish to take away with you? You must fetch it, and quick.’

  Bessie’s brows rose. ‘I ain’t departin’ yet. There’s much left to do.’

  ‘Indeed, and all of those things may be done by others.’

  Bess took away her hands, f
rowning. ‘Not so. Me and yer sister are becomin’ fine friends, and Drig and Derri are makin’ inroads wi’ your servants – and hers. Most of ‘em have no more notion it ain’t you than Tatterfoal, but some are better informed, and they are workin’ on those.’

  ‘They may remain, if they so choose, after you depart.’

  ‘I ain’t leavin’ my friends here alone.’

  ‘There can be no cause for you to stay,’ said Grunewald, beginning to feel irritated. ‘In point of fact, there can be no purpose to any of your staying, for I intend to evict my dear sister. Her happening to have gone out this morning is of all things the most convenient, for she shall find the house closed against her return. And you safely out of the way of any trouble that may subsequently occur.’

  ‘What foolishness. After all the trouble you took wi’ chasin’ her about, and findin’ her mighty elusive at that. Now that she is fixed in one spot, and easily found, you would like to chase her off again? How then will you discover her purpose in these parts, or learn anythin’ of use at all?’

  ‘By other means.’

  Bessie folded her arms. ‘Oh? What might those be?’

  Grunewald had no particular answer to make, but did not wish to own it. He folded his own arms in mimicry of Bessie’s belligerent posture, and stared down at her. ‘Very well, ma’am. For how long do you propose that I should remain locked out of my own house?’

  ‘One more day. Tomorrow night, the best and brightest of your neighbours will arrive, and we’ll see what your sister does wi’ them. And I have some hopes that Drig and Derri may learn a thing or two beforehand.’

  She spoke with calm decision, a manner which defeated all of Grunewald’s hopes of winning her over. Her arguments were not devoid of sense; indeed, she repeated some of the same logic which had already been advanced by the Aylfendeanes and Aubranael, and which had, already, dissuaded him from dislodging his sister’s grip on Hyde Place the moment he had heard of it. But it chafed him, nonetheless.