The Starspun Web

by Sinéad O'Hart

  “Wh-what?” Tess feared she might throw up as she looked from one to the other.

  “I’m sorry, miss!” Millie called. “She made me! She said— Ow!” Mrs. Thistleton yanked her forward and she reeled, losing her footing entirely on a loose floorboard and pitching headfirst down the altar steps. Her head smacked painfully off the floor tiles.

  Tess pocketed the Star-spinner and dropped to her knees to haul the other girl up into a sitting position. “Are you all right?”

  Millie seemed dazed but her eyes were bright. “Get away from here,” she said. “Go!”

  “That’s quite enough,” Mrs. Thistleton said, coming to stand behind them. She’d positioned herself, Tess noticed too late, between the girls and the door. Tess turned her head to peer through the dark hole in the wall from which Mrs. Thistleton and Millie had emerged. But what’s out there? she thought. Thomas once mentioned a tunnel—is there one here, too? For a split second she prepared to run, and then she remembered Violet. Her eyes flickered to the top pew; Mrs. Thistleton was standing in front of it, a knowing smile on her face.

  “What’s happening?” Tess said. “I don’t understand.”

  “All this can be over quite quickly if you simply hand over the device,” Mrs. Thistleton said, her words so calm they almost seemed bored. As she spoke, she flexed the fingers of her left hand, on which she wore a thick leather glove.

  “Wh-what device?” Tess swallowed hard as soon as the words were out of her mouth, looking away from the glove to stare into Mrs. Thistleton’s bone-white face.

  “The one”—Mrs. Thistleton bent forward at the waist, tilting her head a little as though she were speaking to a baby—“that you had in your hand just a moment ago. The one you’ve been using to wriggle through holes in reality for the past few weeks. That one, Tess.”

  “I—I don’t know what you’re talking—”

  “Spare me,” Mrs. Thistleton said, straightening up. “Hand it over now or things will be worse for everyone. Believe me.”

  Tess blinked away tears of frustration and fear. “This doesn’t make any sense. You don’t even believe in any of this.”

  Mrs. Thistleton smirked. “Did Norton tell you that? The dear. I shall have to have a word with him later. Now”—her face settled into its usual scowl—“the device, please.”

  “No,” Tess said, trembling. “I won’t.”

  “One last chance, Tess,” Mrs. Thistleton said, her voice low.

  “And I’ve already told you,” Tess snarled back. “No!”

  In one swift movement, Mrs. Thistleton turned to the top pew. She lifted Tess’s lantern with her ungloved hand, tipping it sideways to knock the candle out of it, and with the gloved one she grabbed Violet, shoving her into the empty lantern so quickly that the spider had no chance to react.

  Mrs. Thistleton turned back to Tess as she snapped the glass door of the lantern closed, a triumphant light in her eyes.

  “Let’s begin negotiations again, shall we? How about you reconsider what I’m asking you, Tess? The device in exchange for your spider.” The candle, lying on its side on the floor near Mrs. Thistleton’s feet, still burned; there was light enough for Tess to see Violet inside her glass prison, her legs searching for a way out.

  Mrs. Thistleton lifted the lantern slightly, peering into it. “Tarantulas are remarkably strong for their size,” she said conversationally. “I’m sure you know that. But,” she continued, turning to face Tess, “I’m sure I’ll enjoy finding ways to hurt it if need be.”

  “Don’t hurt her,” Tess said, her vision blurring. “Please.”

  “You can stop all this if you just do as you’re asked,” Mrs. Thistleton said. “Be reasonable. I’m asking you for such a little thing. Is it really worth your spider’s life?” She sneered. “And without her, doesn’t that spell the end of your career as a world-wanderer anyway? You don’t want to risk that, surely.”

  Tess stared, dumbfounded. She knows about Violet being my anchor, too? How?

  “You’ll find, my dear, that it doesn’t do to underestimate those you feel are beneath you,” Mrs. Thistleton said, her voice tight with disgust. “Housekeepers, mere governesses even, are capable not only of great things but of great thoughts. Sometimes it is the most humble among us who wield the true power.” She began to swing the lantern. Tess watched as Violet staggered about inside it, fighting to find her balance. “So what’s it going to be?”

  Tess reached into her pocket, keeping her eyes on Mrs. Thistleton all the time. If I pretend, she told herself. Pretend to be about to give it to her. Distract her with it. Then grab Violet and run…

  Mrs. Thistleton’s eyes glittered in the low light. Without dropping her stare from Tess, she leaned to one side, just enough to reach the tall windowsill beside her. She placed the lantern on it, and as Tess watched this, her courage failed. Violet was gone, as completely as if she’d been thrown into the darkness.

  “That’s it,” Mrs. Thistleton said, the beginnings of a smile on her face as Tess withdrew her hand from her pocket. “Now hand it over and you’ll get your spider back. You have my word.”

  “Here’s what I think of your word,” Tess muttered before turning to Millie—or where Millie had been. Unseen by Tess and Mrs. Thistleton both, she had fled—and with her had gone Tess’s last hope of getting out of this situation with both her Star-spinner and her spider intact. Her mouth fell open in dismay.

  “Dratted girl,” Mrs. Thistleton muttered, glancing at the chapel’s open door. “I hope she hasn’t gone running to Mr. Cleat in order to try to save her job. Her severance papers are already on his desk and now she’s sealed her fate—she’ll never gain a position in Hurdleford again.” She focused on Tess once more. “A shame when friends let you down, isn’t it?”

  “I hate you,” Tess said, staring up at her governess.

  Mrs. Thistleton shrugged. “And I you, child. Yet here we are. And if that device is not in my possession by the count of five, I shall smash this lantern against the wall. Sturdy as your spider is, I doubt very much whether it will survive the experience.”

  “Violet is not an ‘it,’ ” Tess said through clenched teeth. Her fingers tightened around the Star-spinner and Mrs. Thistleton moved as quickly as a snake to haul Tess to her feet. The governess’s gloved fingers wedged themselves beneath the device, forcing it out of Tess’s grip.

  Mrs. Thistleton held up the Star-spinner, turning it this way and that as if to admire it. “Such a tiny thing,” she said. “And yet how it will change the world.”

  At that moment, the candle at her feet gave out, plunging the chapel into darkness. Mrs. Thistleton pocketed the Star-spinner and reached up to retrieve Violet, all the while keeping Tess’s arm in her iron grip.

  “Now,” she said, into Tess’s ear, “let’s go home.”

  * * *

  Through the darkness of a deserted Fairwater Park, a young girl was running.

  A young girl struggling to see through her tears, whose brain was ringing with hatred for the woman who’d made her betray her friend. Millie’s memory was filled with Tess’s wide disbelieving eyes, and the thought of what might be happening to the young miss right at that moment kept her feet flying. There was enough starlight to make out her destination—a padlocked pedestrian gate in a shady corner of the park, little used except by some of the staff of Roedeer Lodge.

  Her breath tearing through her aching lungs, Millie reached the gate and climbed it. She landed heavily on the pavement outside and started to run down the leafy lane that led toward the city. Eventually, as the River Plura came into view, she had to stop for breath and she leaned against a lamppost as she tried to compose herself. Millie’s destination lay right at the end of the quays, at the heart of the city; it was a place she’d never been, but she was sure she could find it. Tess had described it often enough.

 
I’ve got to find her, Millie told herself. And whether Miss Ackerbee’s angry with me or not, whether she turns me out with a flea in my ear, I’ve got to try. She blinked hard. And then I’ll just have to fend for myself. She’d never seen Mrs. Thistleton angrier than she’d been earlier that evening, when she’d cornered Millie and made her tell her everything she knew. She’d threatened Millie with the sack but—as the girl now miserably realized—she was going to sack her anyway. She’d betrayed Tess for nothing.

  “You’ll stop crying right this minute,” she told herself, wiping her eyes with her apron. “And you’ll go and get the job done.”

  The silent city lay before her and Millie set off into it, her courage clenched in her fist.

  Millie stood on the doorstep of Ackerbee’s Home for Lost and Foundlings and tried to compose herself. The building’s tall, narrow façade was unmistakable, but a light had been left on inside its porch, and the brass nameplate beside the door gleamed. If Millie had been in any doubt about whether she’d reached the right place, that would have put an end to it.

  She took a deep breath, steadied herself and then pulled on the bell. Faintly, she heard it jangling inside the house and bit her lip at the thought of how early—or late—it was. She hated having to cause such a disturbance, but she knew she had no choice.

  Several minutes passed before Millie saw a light in the hallway. Through a glass panel beside the front door, a woman’s tired face peered out at her in confusion. Seconds later, Millie heard the door being unlocked and a heavy bolt being drawn back.

  “Are you looking for Ackerbee’s?” said the woman, opening the door wide. She smiled wearily at Millie, her brown eyes warm and welcoming.

  “I’m looking for Miss Ackerbee herself,” said Millie, finally finding her voice. “There’s something I need to tell her.”

  “You’re in luck then, for I am she,” said Miss Ackerbee, stepping back to admit Millie into the hallway. “Do come in. You look like a large cup of cocoa would do you good.”

  Millie stepped through and Miss Ackerbee closed the door behind her. In the shadows at the far end of the hallway, Millie saw another woman, her tousled copper-brown hair coming out of a loose plait, hurrying toward them. She wrapped a dressing gown around herself as she came.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked, looking at Millie. “Does someone need help?”

  Miss Ackerbee nodded. “Everything’s fine, Rebecca dear. Perhaps you’d join us in my parlor while I chat with this young lady. Can I tempt you with cocoa? I was just about to go to the kitchen for some.”

  “Please, let me take care of it,” Rebecca said. “You get our guest settled.” Miss Ackerbee nodded at Rebecca and led Millie through into a room with a long low couch, a chair and a small table in one corner and a desk in another. Millie felt herself begin to shiver, in both relief and shock and also with simple exhaustion, and she allowed Miss Ackerbee to lead her gently to the sofa.

  “Now,” Miss Ackerbee said once Millie was settled, “can you tell me what the trouble is?”

  “It’s Tess,” said Millie simply.

  Miss Ackerbee’s eyes opened wide and she sat forward. She took one of Millie’s hands in hers. “I didn’t dare hope,” she said in a quick, tight voice. “Is she all right?”

  Millie didn’t know quite how to answer. “She was, last I saw her. But, Miss Ackerbee, I don’t know for how much longer. She’s in trouble, you see.” Millie paused to think, trying to make sure she was remembering Tess’s message properly. “She told me to tell you one thing, one word. It was quicksilver. I don’t know what it means.”

  Miss Ackerbee bent her head for a moment, and when she looked back at Millie, her eyes were wet. “I know what it means, my dear. I know. Thank you.”

  Rebecca came into the room with a tray bearing three steaming mugs of cocoa and a plate piled high with chocolate biscuits. Miss Ackerbee let her set the tray down before turning to her.

  “This brave girl has come here with a message from Tess, my dear,” Miss Ackerbee said. “I feel we should be ready for action.”

  Rebecca slid to her knees on the floor in front of Millie. Her face was drawn with worry. “We’ve been writing to the post office box he left us with,” she said. “But there’s never a reply. Is she getting our letters?”

  Millie shook her head, her face twisting with distaste. “No, ma’am. There hasn’t been anything. She’s keeping them from her, and keeping her letters from being sent too.”

  Miss Ackerbee frowned. “She?”

  “I think this is a conversation best had with a cocoa in hand,” said Rebecca, handing them each a mug. “Let’s get started.”

  * * *

  After Millie had told Rebecca and Miss Ackerbee as much as she could, she was ushered upstairs toward the dorms.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Really, there’s no need—I have a cousin who has a position in town. I can go to her and—”

  “Nonsense,” insisted Miss Ackerbee. “You’ve come all the way here to help one of my girls and now I’m to turn you out into the night? I won’t have it. You must get some rest and then we’ll make sure you’re delivered to your cousin. Until then you’re safe here.”

  “Well—thank you,” Millie replied. She was exhausted, that much was true. But she wondered how safe she was here really. The memory of Mrs. Thistleton’s face, twisted with rage, loomed in her mind, but she shoved it away and tried to stay calm as Miss Ackerbee led her to an empty bed.

  “You’ll be fine here till morning; do make yourself at home,” she whispered. “And try to get some sleep, my dear. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us, and for Tess, tonight.” She patted Millie on the shoulder and left her to it.

  Millie was slipping off her second shoe, getting ready to place it carefully on the floor beside the first, when she heard the whish of a match being struck. Then the corner of the room pooled into light, a gentle glow from a candle showing her several wide-awake faces. Four girls in various stages of dishevelment sat crowded onto a single bed. All of them were looking at her, and Millie shrank a little under their scrutiny.

  “We heard the bell—was that you ringing?” one of the girls began in a loud whisper. “Do you know Tess?” asked another, and “What’s happened to Tess?” asked a third, all at the same time. Millie’s mouth fell open as she wondered who to answer first, but no sound managed to come out.

  “Hush,” said the fourth, a tall, strong girl with a long yellow plait down her back. “Let her get used to us first.” Millie blinked at them all for a moment or two. “Now,” the girl with the plait continued, “that should be quite long enough. Time for introductions. I’m Proserpina, but everyone calls me Prossy. Pleased to meet you.”

  Another girl sat forward, similar in build to the first, but dark where the other girl was fair. “I’m Priscilla. Call me Prissy.” She looked at Prossy and then back at Millie. “And no, we’re not related. Just in case you were wondering.”

  A small girl was next, her black hair in a profusion of tight, neat braids. “I’m Eunice,” she said, holding out her hand to Millie, who stretched across the bed she was sitting on to shake it.

  “And I’m Wilf,” said the fourth, a pale girl with her dark hair in a neat bun. “We’ve been missing Tess so much. Has something happened to her? Only, Miss Ackerbee mentioned her to you just now.”

  Millie looked at them each in turn, all hanging on her next word. “I’m Millicent, but Tess calls me Millie” was all she could say.

  “Then you’re Millie to us, too,” said Prossy, smiling warmly.

  Millie returned the smile, some of her shyness falling away. “Thank you, miss,” she said.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake—none of that ‘miss’ stuff, please,” scoffed Prissy. “You’re not in service here.” Then she paused thoughtfully, taking in Millie’s clothes. “Sp
eaking of which—where were you in service? The place they’re keeping Tess?”

  Millie nodded. “Roedeer Lodge, miss—whoops,” she said, feeling her cheeks burn. Prissy simply nodded encouragingly. “It’s in the grounds of Fairwater Park,” she continued.

  Prissy turned to Wilf. “Well done, you,” she said. “You were right.”

  Wilf nodded, looking grim but pleased. “Is Tess all right?” she asked, and Millie looked at her. She took a moment to get her thoughts straight and then told the girls what she knew—how Tess had been doing experiments of some sort in the old chapel at Roedeer Lodge and how Mrs. Thistleton had trapped Millie into telling her where Tess went at night. How she’d been dragged there to witness Tess’s fate.

  “I was stupid to think Mrs. Thistleton wouldn’t know something was happening,” Millie said mournfully. “No housekeeper worth her salt doesn’t notice missing matches and pilfered candles and suspicious creaks after dark and lanterns bobbing over the garden. I should have thought of that.” Millie paused, shaking her head. “It’s my fault,” she said miserably. “She was caught because of me.”

  “Look, that bit can’t be helped,” said Prissy, giving Millie a friendly pat on the arm. “This Thistleton creature sounds like a pill. It’s not your fault. You’ve done what you can to get Tess’s message out. That’s all she could want.”

  “But that’s not enough. We need to try to get her away from there,” Millie said, looking back up at the girls. “And we only have until Friday. Tomorrow, really.”

  Wilf nodded. “Yes. We know about the party,” she said.

  “It’s more like some sort of demonstration,” Millie said. “Mr. Cleat’s bringing all his Society crowd. I really don’t know much else about it, besides that it had Tess worried for some reason. And then when Mrs. Thistleton attacked her…” Millie paused, shuddering at the memory. “She’s important to them, that much I know. They need her for something. And whatever it is, Tess wants nothing to do with it.”