Enchanted Castle and Five Children and It (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Edith Nesbit

  Gerald and Kathleen had both closed their eyes. But somehow Jimmy hadn’t. He didn’t mean to cheat, he just forgot. And as Gerald’s count reached twenty he saw a panel under the window open slowly.

  “Her,” he said to himself. “I knew it was a trick!” and at once shut his eyes, like an honourable little boy.

  On the word “fifty” six eyes opened. And the panel was closed and there was no Princess.

  “She hasn’t pulled it off this time,” said Gerald.

  “Perhaps you’d better count again,” said Kathleen.

  “I believe there’s a cupboard under the window,” said Jimmy, “and she’s hidden in it. Secret panel, you know.”

  “You looked! that’s cheating,” said the voice of the Princess so close to his ear that he quite jumped.

  “I didn’t cheat.”

  “Where on earth—What ever—” said all three together. For still there was no Princess to be seen.

  “Come back visible, Princess dear,” said Kathleen. “Shall we shut our eyes and count again?”

  “Don’t be silly!” said the voice of the Princess, and it sounded very cross.

  “We’re not silly,” said Jimmy, and his voice was cross too. “Why can’t you come back and have done with it? You know you’re only hiding.”

  “Don’t!” said Kathleen gently. “She is invisible, you know.”

  “So should I be if I got into the cupboard,” said Jimmy.

  “Oh yes,” said the sneering tone of the Princess, “you think yourselves very clever, I dare say. But I don’t mind. We’ll play that you can’t see me, if you like.”

  “Well, but we can’t,” said Gerald. “It’s no use getting in a wax. If you’re hiding, as Jimmy says, you’d better come out. If you’ve really turned invisible, you’d better make yourself visible again.”

  “Do you really mean,” asked a voice quite changed, but still the Princess’s, “that you can’t see me?”

  “Can’t you see we can’t?” asked Jimmy rather unreasonably.

  The sun was blazing in at the window; the eight-sided room was very hot, and everyone was getting cross.

  “You can’t see me?” There was the sound of a sob in the voice of the invisible Princess.

  “No, I tell you,” said Jimmy, “and I want my tea—and—”

  What he was saying was broken off short, as one might break a stick of sealing wax. And then in the golden afternoon a really quite horrid thing happened: Jimmy suddenly leaned backwards, then forwards, his eyes opened wide and his mouth too. Backward and forward he went, very quickly and abruptly, then stood still.

  “Oh, he’s in a fit! Oh, Jimmy, dear Jimmy!” cried Kathleen, hurrying to him. “What is it, dear, what is it?”

  “It’s not a fit,” gasped Jimmy angrily. “She shook me.”

  “Yes,” said the voice of the Princess, “and I’ll shake him again if he keeps on saying he can’t see me.”

  “You’d better shake me,” said Gerald angrily. “I’m nearer your own size.”

  And instantly she did. But not for long. The moment Gerald felt hands on his shoulders he put up his own and caught those other hands by the wrists. And there he was, holding wrists that he couldn’t see. It was a dreadful sensation. An invisible kick made him wince, but he held tight to the wrists.

  Backward and forward he went

  “Cathy,” he cried, “come and hold her legs; she’s kicking me.”

  “Where?” cried Kathleen, anxious to help. “I don’t see any legs.”

  “This is her hands I’ve got,” cried Gerald. “She is invisible right enough. Get hold of this hand, and then you can feel your way down to her legs.”

  Kathleen did so. I wish I could make you understand how very, very uncomfortable and frightening it is to feel, in broad daylight, hands and arms that you can’t see.

  “I won’t have you hold my legs,” said the invisible Princess, struggling violently.

  “What are you so cross about?” Gerald was quite calm. “You said you’d be invisible and you are.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are really. Look in the glass.”

  “I’m not; I can’t be.”

  “Look in the glass,” Gerald repeated, quite unmoved.

  “Let go, then,” she said.

  Gerald did, and the moment he had done so he found it impossible to believe that he really had been holding invisible hands.

  “You’re just pretending not to see me,” said the Princess anxiously, “aren’t you? Do say you are. You’ve had your joke with me. Don’t keep it up. I don’t like it.”

  “On our sacred word of honour,” said Gerald, “you’re still invisible.”

  There was a silence. Then, “Come,” said the Princess. “I’ll let you out, and you can go. I’m tired of playing with you.”

  They followed her voice to the door, and through it, and along the little passage into the hall. No one said anything. Everyone felt very uncomfortable.

  “Let’s get out of this,” whispered Jimmy as they got to the end of the hall.

  But the voice of the Princess said: “Come out this way; it’s quicker. I think you’re perfectly hateful. I’m sorry I ever played with you. Mother always told me not to play with strange children.”

  A door abruptly opened, though no hand was seen to touch it. “Come through, can’t you!” said the voice of the Princess.

  It was a little ante-room, with long, narrow mirrors between its long, narrow windows.

  “Good-bye,” said Gerald. “Thanks for giving us such a jolly time. Let’s part friends,” he added, holding out his hand.

  An unseen hand was slowly put in his, which closed on it, vice-like.

  “Now,” he said, “you’ve jolly well got to look in the glass and own that we’re not liars.”

  He led the invisible Princess to one of the mirrors, and held her in front of it by the shoulders.

  “Now,” he said, “you just look for yourself.”

  There was a silence, and then a cry of despair rang through the room.

  “Oh—oh—oh! I am invisible. Whatever shall I do?”

  “Take the ring off,” said Kathleen, suddenly practical.

  Another silence.

  “I can’t!” cried the Princess. “It won’t come off. But it can’t be the ring; rings don’t make you invisible.”

  “You said this one did,” said Kathleen, “and it has.”

  “But it can’t,” said the Princess. “I was only playing at magic. I just hid in the secret cupboard—it was only a game. Oh, whatever shall I do?”

  “A game?” said Gerald slowly; “but you can do magic—the invisible jewels, and you made them come visible.”

  “Oh, it’s only a secret spring and the panelling slides up. Oh, what am I to do?”

  Kathleen moved towards the voice and gropingly got her arms round a pink-silk waist that she couldn’t see. Invisible arms clasped her, a hot invisible cheek was laid against hers, and warm invisible tears lay wet between the two faces.

  “Don’t cry, dear,” said Kathleen; “let me go and tell the King and Queen.”

  “The—?”

  “Your royal father and mother.”

  “Oh, don’t mock me!” said the poor Princess. “You know that was only a game, too, like—”

  “Like the bread and cheese,” said Jimmy triumphantly. “I knew that was!”

  “But your dress and being asleep in the maze, and—”

  “Oh, I dressed up for fun, because everyone’s away at the fair, and I put the clue just to make it all more real. I was playing at Fair Rosamond first, and then I heard you talking in the maze,3 and I thought what fun; and now I’m invisible, and I shall never come right again, never—I know I shan’t! It serves me right for lying, but I didn’t really think you’d believe it—not more than half, that is,” she added hastily, trying to be truthful.

  “But if you’re not the Princess, who are you?” asked Kathleen, still embracing the unseen.
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  “I’m—my aunt lives here,” said the invisible Princess. “She may be home any time. Oh, what shall I do?”

  “Perhaps she knows some charm—”

  “Oh, nonsense!” said the voice sharply; “she doesn’t believe in charms. She would be so vexed. Oh, I daren’t let her see me like this!” she added wildly. “And all of you here, too. She’d be so dreadfully cross.

  The beautiful magic castle that the children had believed in now felt as though it were tumbling about their ears. All that was left was the invisibleness of the Princess. But that, you will own, was a good deal.

  “I just said it,” moaned the voice, “and it came true. I wish I’d never played at magic—I wish I’d never played at anything at all.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” Gerald said kindly. “Let’s go out into the garden, near the lake, where it’s cool, and we’ll hold a solemn council. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

  “Oh!” cried Kathleen suddenly, “the buckle; that makes magic come undone!”

  “It doesn’t really,” murmured the voice that seemed to speak without lips. “I only just said that.”

  “You only ‘just said’ about the ring,” said Gerald. “Anyhow, let’s try.”

  “Not you—me,” said the voice. “You go down to the Temple of Flora, by the lake. I’ll go back to the jewel-room by myself. Aunt might see you.”

  “She won’t see you,” said Jimmy.

  “Don’t rub it in,” said Gerald. “Where is the Temple of Flora?”

  “That’s the way,” the voice said; “down those steps and along the winding path through the shrubbery. You can’t miss it. It’s white marble, with a statue goddess inside.”

  The three children went down to the white marble Temple of Flora that stood close against the side of the little hill, and sat down in its shadowy inside. It had arches all round except against the hill behind the statue, and it was cool and restful.

  They had not been there five minutes before the feet of a runner sounded loud on the gravel. A shadow, very black and distinct, fell on the white marble floor.

  “Your shadow’s not invisible, anyhow,” said Jimmy.

  “Your shadow’s not invisible, anyhow”

  “Oh, bother my shadow!” the voice of the Princess replied. “We left the key inside the door, and it’s shut itself with the wind, and it’s a spring lock!”

  There was a heartfelt pause.

  Then Gerald said, in his most business-like manner:

  “Sit down, Princess, and we’ll have a thorough good palaver about it.”

  “I shouldn’t wonder,” said Jimmy, “if we was to wake up and find it was dreams.”

  “No such luck,” said the voice.

  “Well,” said Gerald, “first of all, what’s your name, and if you’re not a Princess, who are you?”

  “I’m—I’m,” said a voice broken with sobs, “I’m the—housekeeper’s —niece—at—the—castle—and my name’s Mabel Prowse.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” said Jimmy, without a shadow of truth, because how could he? The others were silent. It was a moment full of agitation and confused ideas.

  “Well, any how,” said Gerald, “you belong here.”

  “Yes,” said the voice, and it came from the floor, as though its owner had flung herself down in the madness of despair. “Oh yes, I belong here right enough, but what’s the use of belonging anywhere if you’re invisible?”

  CHAPTER III

  Those of my readers who have gone about much with an invisible companion will not need to be told how awkward the whole business is. For one thing, however much you may have been convinced that your companion is invisible, you will, I feel sure, have found yourself every now and then saying, “This must be a dream!” or “I know I shall wake up in half a sec!” And this was the case with Gerald, Kathleen, and Jimmy as they sat in the white marble Temple of Flora, looking out through its arches at the sunshiny park and listening to the voice of the enchanted Princess, who really was not a Princess at all, but just the housekeeper’s niece, Mabel Prowse; though, as Jimmy said, “she was enchanted, right enough.”

  “It’s no use talking,” she said again and again, and the voice came from an empty-looking space between two pillars; “I never believed anything would happen, and now it has.”

  “Well,” said Gerald kindly, “can we do anything for you? Because, if not, I think we ought to be going.”

  “Yes,” said Jimmy; “I do want my tea!”

  “Tea!” said the unseen Mabel scornfully. “Do you mean to say you’d go off to your teas and leave me after getting me into this mess?”

  “Well, of all the unfair Princesses I ever met!” Gerald began. But Kathleen interrupted.

  “Oh, don’t rag her,” she said. “Think how horrid it must be to be invisible! ”

  “I don’t think,” said the hidden Mabel, “that my aunt likes me very much as it is. She wouldn’t let me go to the fair because I’d forgotten to put back some old trumperyct shoe that Queen Elizabethcu wore—I got it out from the glass case to try it on.”

  “Did it fit?” asked Kathleen, with interest.

  “Not it—much too small,” said Mabel. “I don’t believe it ever fitted anyone.”

  “I do want my tea!” said Jimmy

  “I do really think perhaps we ought to go,” said Gerald. “You see, it isn’t as if we could do anything for you.”

  “You’ll have to tell your aunt,” said Kathleen kindly.

  “No, no, no!” moaned Mabel invisibly; “take me with you. I’ll leave her a note to say I’ve run away to sea.”

  “Girls don’t run away to sea.”

  “They might,” said the stone floor between the pillars, “as stowaways, if nobody wanted a cabin boy—cabin girl, I mean.”

  “I’m sure you oughtn’t,” said Kathleen firmly.

  “Well, what am I to do?”

  “Really,” said Gerald, “I don’t know what the girl can do. Let her come home with us and have—”

  “Tea—oh, yes,” said Jimmy, jumping up.

  “And have a good council.”

  “After tea,” said Jimmy.

  “But her aunt’ll find she’s gone.”

  “So she would if I stayed.”

  “Oh, come on,” said Jimmy.

  “But the aunt’ll think something’s happened to her.”

  “So it has.”

  “And she’ll tell the police, and they’ll look everywhere for me.”

  “They’ll never find you,” said Gerald. “Talk of impenetrable disguises!”

  “I’m sure,” said Mabel, “aunt would much rather never see me again than see me like this. She’d never get over it; it might kill her—she has spasms as it is. I’ll write to her, and we’ll put it in the big letter-box at the gate as we go out. Has anyone got a bit of pencil and a scrap of paper?”

  Gerald had a note-book, with leaves of the shiny kind which you have to write on, not with a blacklead pencil, but with an ivory thing with a point of real lead. And it won’t write on any other paper except the kind that is in the book, and this is often very annoying when you are in a hurry. Then was seen the strange spectacle of a little ivory stick, with a leaden point, standing up at an odd, impossible-looking slant, and moving along all by itself as ordinary pencils do when you are writing with them.

  “May we look over?” asked Kathleen.

  There was no answer. The pencil went on writing.

  “Mayn’t we look over?” Kathleen said again.

  “Of course you may!” said the voice near the paper. “I nodded, didn’t I? Oh, I forgot, my nodding’s invisible too.”

  The pencil was forming round, clear letters on the page torn out of the note-book. This is what it wrote:—

  “Dear Aunt,—

  “I am afraid you will not see me again for some time. A lady in a motor-car has adopted me, and we are going straight to the coast and then in a ship. It is useless to try to follow me. Farewel
l, and may you be happy. I hope you enjoyed the fair.

  ”Mabel.”

  “But that’s all lies,” said Jimmy bluntly.

  “No, it isn’t; it’s fancy,” said Mabel. “If I said I’ve become invisible, she’d think that was a lie, anyhow.”

  “Oh, come along,” said Jimmy; “you can quarrel just as well walking.”

  Gerald folded up the note as a lady in India had taught him to do years before, and Mabel led them by another and very much nearer way out of the park. And the walk home was a great deal shorter, too, than the walk out had been.

  The sky had clouded over while they were in the Temple of Flora, and the first spots of rain fell as they got back to the house, very late indeed for tea.

  Mademoiselle was looking out of the window, and came herself to open the door.

  “But it is that you are in lateness, in lateness!” she cried. “You have had a misfortune—no? All goes well?”

  “We are very sorry indeed,” said Gerald. “It took us longer to get home than we expected. I do hope you haven’t been anxious. I have been thinking about you most of the way home.”

  The bread and butter waving about in the air

  “Go, then,” said the French lady, smiling; “you shall have them in the same time—the tea and the supper.”

  Which they did.

  “How could you say you were thinking about her all the time?” said a voice just by Gerald’s ear, when Mademoiselle had left them alone with the bread and butter and milk and baked apples. “It was just as much a lie as me being adopted by a motor lady.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” said Gerald, through bread and butter. “I was thinking about whether she’d be in a wax or not. So there!”

  There were only three plates, but Jimmy let Mabel have his, and shared with Kathleen. It was rather horrid to see the bread and butter waving about in the air, and bite after bite disappearing from it apparently by no human agency; and the spoon rising with apple in it and returning to the plate empty. Even the tip of the spoon disappeared as long as it was in Mabel’s unseen mouth; so that at times it looked as though its bowl had been broken off.