The Velvet Fox

by Catherine Fisher

  The Crow groaned. He was so angry about the lessons he fell over and she had to prop him back up.

  ‘Sewing!’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s not the worst of it. Tomos is completely under Their spell, and no one seems to believe me at all.’

  When she had finished the Crow was silent a moment. Then it said softly, ‘Kek kek.’

  ‘That’s not much help.’

  ‘This is bad.’

  ‘I know it is! It’s Tomos.’ Even saying his name made her sad. ‘She’s turned him against me. And all the servants, too. I don’t understand how she gets them all to believe her!’

  ‘Oh, the Family are good at that.’ The Crow paced the eiderdown, thoughtful. ‘I need to see this governess for myself. But she mustn’t see me. Will you have lessons tomorrow?’

  ‘Not sure. I’m in real trouble.’

  ‘Even so, I’ll get outside and peep in somewhere. It’s tricky, with Them in the house. Occupied territory. Very tricky.’

  Seren yawned and snuggled down. ‘I’ve got to sleep. I’m so tired! Don’t go away now, will you?’

  The Crow snorted and flew up into the wardrobe. Its voice came out, muffled. ‘I’ve left Enoch on the Isle of Skye. He’s interviewing an Irish wonder worker from a fairground show and then he’s going down to Cardiff where there’s a sailor at the docks who says he can catch the wind in a bag. I don’t hold out much hope from either of them. So I suppose I can spare you a few days.’

  She grinned into her pillow. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said.

  Because she was going to need all the help she could get.

  Next morning Mrs Villiers unlocked the door and led Seren down for breakfast. It was a silent meal. Tomos gulped down porridge and toast and then hurried off to play with his carousel before lessons.

  Lady Mair seemed very unhappy. Finally, she looked at Seren across the white tablecloth.

  ‘Seren. After last night I really don’t know what to do.’

  Seren sighed. ‘I suppose it’s no use saying it wasn’t me.’

  Lady Mair raised a hand. ‘Please. Don’t make it worse by telling lies.’ She straightened her napkin. ‘I have written to Captain Jones. The whole house is unsettled and unfortunately I have to go to Shrewsbury for a few days to visit Tomos’s grandmamma who’s not at all well.’

  Seren looked up, alarmed. ‘You’re going away?’

  ‘Just for a few days.’

  ‘But…’ Seren played with her spoon. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea… I think you should stay here…’

  ‘I need to go. You will be well looked after by Mrs Villiers and Mrs Honeybourne.’ She stood. ‘Please behave well, Seren. I don’t want to lose you; I’ve grown so very fond of you. But … I don’t understand what’s happened to you.’

  When she was gone Seren sat thinking hard. With both the captain and Lady Mair away things might be worse for her. She glanced out of the window. She just hoped the Crow would be careful.

  She walked gloomily up to the schoolroom. Lady Mair had said she was only allowed up there so that Mrs Honeybourne could keep an eye on her. Well, that could work both ways.

  The autumn morning was dim with drizzly rain. It pattered on the tall windows, making long, running rivulets on the glass.

  The house was shadowy and oddly hushed. There was no one about except Lily, sweeping leaves down the stairs and muttering to herself in Welsh.

  ‘More leaves, bach,’ she whispered as Seren went by. ‘I did this yesterday but it’s worse today.’

  Seren glanced round as she went up. A leaf was stuck in the bannisters, another on the landing and a small drift lay along the corridor. She frowned.

  Then something touched her hair.

  She froze.

  Her heart hammered.

  She couldn’t even breathe.

  There was no sound but she knew that something tall and silvery was standing right behind her, and its thin hand had been on her.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ she hissed, and abruptly turned round.

  There was nothing there.

  Seren scowled at the empty corridor. A hundred reflections of herself in the china and glass scowled back. ‘You won’t scare me,’ she said quietly. ‘And you won’t see me off. That’s a promise.’

  Out of the darkness it came again. That soft, velvety laugh.

  Lessons that morning were subdued. Mrs Honeybourne gave Seren a huge chunk of history to copy out in neat handwriting and barely bothered to look at her again.

  Instead she concentrated on Tomos, reading Latin with him and cooing and crooning over every correct answer he gave.

  Seren ground her teeth and kept her head down.

  She also kept her eyes open. There was no sign of the carousel or the figures. Mrs Honeybourne was wearing an even more flamboyant dress of crimson silk, which rustled horribly at every movement. Her scent seemed stronger and, as always, she wore her gloves. Seren wondered why she never took them off.

  And there was the knitting. More of it now. It spiralled in huge loops of wiry red wool out of the bag. What on earth was she knitting that could be so big?

  A tent?

  Several times during the morning Seren tried to catch Tomos’s eye but he wouldn’t look at her. So in the end she tore off a scrap of paper and wrote him a message.

  Meet me in the third stable after lunch. Something big to tell you.

  She pushed it across when Mrs Honeybourne’s back was briefly turned. Tomos glanced at it. But he didn’t touch it or even read it, and before she could get it back Mrs Honeybourne was bearing down on her.

  A red glove snatched up the paper. ‘Seren! Please don’t irritate dear Tomos. He is working so hard and he just isn’t interested, dear,in your very silly schemes.’

  ‘Are you going to let her say that, Tomos?’ Seren said loudly.

  Tomos shrugged. ‘I’ve got things to learn, Seren,’ he said loftily.

  The governess smirked. But then a peculiar change came over her.

  She shivered and shuddered, and threw a quick, suspicious stare at the window.

  Seren looked too. And she saw the Crow!

  It was sitting in the topmost branches of an oak tree just outside, and she remembered its plan had been to perch in the open like any other bird.

  ‘Hide in plain sight,’ it had said, smugly. ‘Best plan all round.’

  But the trouble was there was no way the Crow looked like any normal bird. Moth-eaten and scraggy, its diamond-bright eyes sharp and noticing, it stood out a mile.

  Mrs Honeybourne’s voice was shrill with anger. She stabbed a red finger at the window.

  ‘Who put that monstrosity there! Seren Rhys! I know it was you!’

  7

  Red wool and a silver box

  A skein of dread like wool

  Tangles round her soul.

  Seren jumped up hastily. ‘I did not! I don’t know anything about it!’

  She wished the Crow would fly away but it was obviously fascinated, gazing at the governess with its bright eyes. Tomos didn’t even look up – it was as if he was so mesmerised by the work on his page that his pen couldn’t lift from it.

  Mrs Honeybourne rushed to the window and flung wide the casement. Seren thought she would cry, ‘Shoo!’ or something but instead she just stood there, and in the branches the Crow hopped nearer. They were eye to eye.

  The governess’s face was not sweet or kind now. Her stare was poison.

  She raised one red glove and pointed a finger at the Crow. ‘Die!’ she said.

  Seren gasped and flung herself forward but the wind banged the shutters as violently as a pistol shot, and a scorch of red flame seared the air.

  The Crow screeched and leapt. Black feathers scattered. With a howl it fell straight down through the branches, tumbling and smacking into the leaves at the bottom. Seren gave a yelp of terror and raced around the table, grabbing Mrs Honeybourne’s dress and hauling her away. ‘Leave it! Leave him alone!’

  The
governess turned on her.

  Seren backed to the wall.

  Mrs Honeybourne smiled. ‘And now for you, dearie.’

  She snapped her fingers and the knitting moved. It rustled and slid out of the basket. Scratchy red wool looped over Seren’s wrists, snaked swiftly round her neck. She couldn’t drag it away; it pulled tighter and she squirmed and fought and struggled but the wool was all over her now; she was tangled and trapped in it.

  ‘Let me go!’ she screamed. ‘Let me out! Tomos, look what she’s doing! TOMOS, DO SOMETHING!’

  Tomos didn’t even look up. ‘I just have to finish this translation,’ he said absently. ‘I’ll play later, Seren.’

  ‘She’s attacking me! She’s one ofThem!’

  Wearily, he nodded again. ‘It’s not that difficult, you see, Latin, when you get used to it. Lots of words. Lots and lots of words…’

  ‘It’s no use, dearie.’ Mrs Honeybourne came nearer. ‘He can’t even hear you. He’s Ours again now. He’ll care less and less about you, and in the end he’ll even forget who you are.’ She bent down and put her face right up to Seren’s. ‘We know all about that bird out there. That enchanted creature. We’ve been interested in him for a long time.’

  ‘We?’ Seren breathed.

  ‘Yes. We.’ Close up, the woman’s face was strange. Her skin was flaky and dry; the plump lips as swollen as berries in a hedgerow. Her hair glistened like gossamer or cobweb. For a moment, Seren had a nightmare glimpse of a creature patched together from all the things of autumn, from berries and leaves and toadstools and bramble, held by the power of the Family’s magic.

  Then a knock at the door made her jump.

  ‘Mrs Honeybourne! Are you there?’

  Denzil!

  Instantly the knitting unravelled and slid smoothly back into its bag. Seren was released; she fell into her seat with a jolt; a pencil jumped into her fingers. Mrs Honeybourne stepped back, brushed her dress smooth, and smiled. ‘Come in!’ she sang.

  Denzil put his head round the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt the learning, but her ladyship’s off to the train and wants to say goodbye. Tomos?’

  Tomos looked up, sleepily.

  ‘Did you hear? Your mam is going. Come and wave her off, bachgen.’

  ‘Oh yes. All right.’

  He stood slowly and put out his hand and Mrs Honeybourne took it. Holding his fingers tight, she led him down the corridor.

  At once Seren ran to the window and leaned out, ‘Crow!’ she gasped. ‘Where are you?’

  No answer.

  She swung round, straight into Denzil. The small man said, ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘My … er … toy. A clockwork crow. It fell out of the window… I don’t want it to get…’

  He held up a hand. ‘Go to the carriage, girl. I’ll get it for you.’

  She hurtled down the stairs, along the corridor and out of the front door into the fresh rainy air.

  Lady Mair was leaning anxiously out of the window of the coach, caressing Tomos’s hair. ‘I will be back very soon,’ she whispered. ‘You will be good for Mrs Villiers, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Mama,’ Tomos said. He looked away, restless.

  Mrs Villiers stood next to him on the step. She said. ‘Don’t worry, your ladyship, we’ll be fine.’

  Seren ran down to the carriage window. ‘Don’t go,’ she said urgently. ‘Please don’t…’

  Lady Mair sighed. ‘Seren…’

  ‘You don’t know. They…’

  ‘Now please be good, Seren. I don’t want to hear of any more nonsense.’

  It was useless. Seren stepped back and took a breath. ‘I’ll look after Tomos,’ she said. ‘Don’t you worry about that. And I’ll look after Plas-y-Fran too!’

  Maybe she said it too loud and defiantly because Lady Mair looked a little startled. ‘Thank you, dear.’ She looked up. ‘Drive on, please, Gwyn.’

  Gwyn glanced at Seren, then flicked the reins and said, ‘Whup.’

  The horses snorted and walked off, speeding to a trot, and the carriage jolted down the drive. Lady Mair’s small white face stayed at the window and her hand waved until the bend by the gate hid her from sight.

  ‘Well.’ Mrs Villiers coughed again, then took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘Let’s get in. Goodness, I do feel a little chilly.’

  ‘You have a cold, Ma’am,’ Mrs Honeybourne said smoothly. ‘And I have just the linctus to help. Honey and lemon and some ingredients of my own. It will pep you up in no time.’

  She led the way inside and, coming behind, Seren saw how tight she held Tomos’s hand in her own.

  A tap on her back made Seren turn. Denzil held something behind his back.

  ‘Have you got it?’

  ‘There was no toy. Just this.’

  It was the key from the Crow’s side! She snatched it and said, ‘Thank you, Denzil.’

  She raced upstairs, knowing the small man was staring up after her curiously. But she was full of dread, so that she took the stairs three at a time and then raced along the corridor to her room and dived inside.

  The window was open, just a slit.

  ‘Crow! Where are you? Are you alive?’

  Nothing.

  Then the wardrobe door creaked open and the Cow toppled out headfirst.

  ‘No!’ Seren ran round the bed and knelt down. It was lying on the rug and there was a nasty new scorch mark down its side. Hastily she picked it up, pushed the key in and wound fast. Words began at once: long slurred words that sped up into a furious intensity.

  ‘eeeeeeeer toooooooooot aaaaaaaa lllleeee un speekaaaabbbbbble aaand IIII caan telll you that I will be so revenged on Them for this … absolute atrocity! I MEAN WHO DO THEY THINK I AM?’ It jerked its wings wide in agitation. ‘Some poor fool in a bird-suit? Don’t they know I am a sorcerer and a pr… Well, not a prince maybe, but a man of noble birth and a schoolteacher to kings and a graduate of Oxford with a first-class in Demonology and Classics, not to mention third cousin to the last descendant of Owain Glyndŵr! OWAIN GLYNDŴR!’

  ‘Calm down.’ Seren finished winding and sat back breathless.

  ‘Calm down! I haven’t even STARTED.’ The Crow hopped in agitation over the flowered quilt. ‘If I hadn’t had lightning reactions! If I hadn’t dived to one side with such stunning foresight I would be DEAD. Totally DEAD! And not only that! That woman! Her teaching methods! Her Latin pronunciation! Absolutely dire. I can tell you I’m not going to take this lying down.’ It tripped over a crease in the quilt and fell backwards, then jumped up again hastily. ‘Not only that, we need to act fast! It will be full moon in two days. Every day They’ll get stronger with the moon.’

  ‘What we need to do is get hold of the carousel,’ Seren muttered, sitting on her hands on the bed. ‘That’s the source of Their power in the house, isn’t it? That’s what’s obsessing Tomos. If we could steal it…’

  The Crow shook its head. ‘No chance. It will be too well guarded.’

  ‘So how…?’

  ‘The figures. We start with them.’ The Crow raised its beak and fixed a glare at its reflection in the mirror. ‘We… Oh my goodness! Look at my feathers!’

  ‘Never mind your wretched feathers,’ Seren snapped, because she knew how vain it was. ‘What’s the plan?’

  The Crow turned, spread its wings, and examined the scorch mark. When it looked up its beak was more crooked with fury than ever.

  ‘I will destroy Them,’ it breathed.

  Seren nodded. ‘Good. So what do we need?’

  The Crow took a determined breath.

  ‘Get me a box made of silver,’ it snapped. ‘The whisker of a white cat. A comb no one has ever used. And a pine cone.’

  It was only lunchtime but it was so strangely dark downstairs it felt like evening. Rain poured down the windowpanes. Shadows flickered in the rooms. Leaves appeared against the glass like large red hands then blew away in the wind.

  At least in the kitchen the fire was crackling and the r
ows of copper jugs gleamed, and it was warm.

  Seren sat down at her place at the table.

  ‘Where’s Tomos?’ she asked, after a few hurried mouthfuls of cawl.

  ‘Tomos is having his lunch with Mrs Honeybourne, lovely. In the schoolroom.’

  Alys, the cook, was flustered, one strand of her glossy hair coming loose as she slid a large pie out of the oven. It smelled wonderful.

  ‘Don’t speak to her please, Alys. She’s in disgrace. She should consider herself very lucky to get any lunch at all.’ Mrs Villiers was sitting by the fire with a shawl around her shoulders. Her nose was red, and she blew it into a white handkerchief. A steaming posset stood on a table beside her.

  ‘Did Mrs Honeybourne make that? I wouldn’t drink it if I was you,’ Seren said darkly.

  Gwyn came in.

  ‘Over there, boy. Try not to drip.’ Mrs Villiers waved a hand to a dish at the table’s end.

  Gwyn took off his cap and sat down. His tweedy jacket was soaked.

  ‘Oh, take that off, cariad, and I’ll dry it out for you properly. Can’t have everyone in the house coming down with influenza.’ Alys tugged it off him and hung it over a rack by the fire so that it started to steam at once.