‘Please yourself,’ said Charlotte. ‘You’ll get a good hiding from Pinchbeck if you won’t do as you’re told.’
‘Why do you have to make this harder?’ Felix said to her and Charlotte lowered her gaze.
‘I didn’t come for magic tricks. I just need a job,’ said Leander.
‘There is no job,’ said Felix.
‘You’re a slave. A prisoner. Pinchbeck is like . . . the wicked witch in the gingerbread house. The monster who takes children away.’ Charlotte’s eyes were wet, like she was holding back tears. Like she really meant what she was saying.
‘Of course. She’s the wicked witch and you must be Hansel and Gretel. Nice to meet you. I’m Robin Hood.’ Leander pretended to doff his hat, and Felix gave the tiniest of smiles. Charlotte did not.
‘We’re not joking,’ she said.
Leander thought of the book in his sack, and the story of the Rat King . . . But no. ‘Stop treating me like a child. They’re just fairy tales.’
‘And yet,’ said Felix, ‘here we are.’
5
Seven of Swords:
Deception, Trickery,
Betrayal
Felix loved three things.
The first was music, which flowed through his veins where the blood should be.
The second was his little brother, Isaak, who went to the market one day and never came back. Felix had sworn to find him again if it took him until Judgement Day.
The third was Charlotte.
He hadn’t wanted to love her – but she grew on him like lichen on a rock. He’d learned not to become fond of the children Pinchbeck stole. Before Charlotte, there had been four others. Four lost children. Pinchbeck kept them around for a few days or weeks until she decided they weren’t useful enough – then they disappeared in the night. Felix didn’t like it, but he had promised loyalty to Pinchbeck . . . was it eight or nine years ago? Eight, he was fairly sure. It was hard to keep track of time.
Madame Pinchbeck had taken him in when he had no one else and, when it was just the two of them, they rubbed along quite nicely. Felix would play his violin for her, and she seemed to enjoy his company. She had begun performing seances not long before they met, but together they had made her shows into something really special. Other mediums had ghostly knockings, or floating tables, but Felix helped Pinchbeck create an other-worldly performance with music and apparitions and all sorts of unbelievable tricks. And it had been fun. More fun than begging in the streets. Sometimes Felix felt bad about enjoying himself when his brother was still missing, but he comforted himself knowing Pinchbeck would help Felix find him.
Once Pinchbeck stole Charlotte, she mostly stopped taking other children. Pinchbeck never explained why – she wasn’t the type to justify her actions – but Felix could tell that Charlotte was different to the other children. Well- spoken, good manners, healthy complexion – she looked like someone from the upper class, which always impressed the wealthy audiences. Not to mention that Charlotte knew how to curl Pinchbeck’s hair and embroider her clothes. None of the raggedy stolen orphans had been nearly so useful as a lady’s maid. The last child Pinchbeck stole had been three years ago and Felix was relieved.
It wasn’t such a bad life. At least Pinchbeck took care of them in her own way, and they were usually fed.
Felix’s father had been a drunk, uncaring and useless, so all Felix had was Isaak. Without his brother, what did it matter where he was? At least with Pinchbeck he could travel around and search for him. Felix had Charlotte, and his music, and even an audience during Pinchbeck’s performances. He’d accepted his lot a long time ago.
But it was different for Charlotte. She had a home and someone who cared about her. Although they had good days, Charlotte would never be truly happy with Pinchbeck. Felix felt torn between the two of them.
And now there was the new boy, Leander. His arrival threatened to change everything. Charlotte was furious, pacing round the campsite, raging and muttering.
‘There can’t be three of us,’ she said. ‘Pinchbeck can’t sustain three of us. What does she want him for?’
‘Money? He’s a thief. She hasn’t had much work lately.’ Felix busied himself finding more wood for the fire. No use freezing to death while they waited for her.
‘And when she has her money, then what? She destroys him? What if it isn’t him she chooses to vanish for ever?’ She lowered her voice. ‘We know that three is too many! Remember Rosa?’
Charlotte’s panic was like a mistuned string on a violin, impossible to ignore. But they needed to get through this together.
‘Well, we can’t just let him flounder. He’s here now, so we have to make the best of it. I’m trying to teach him. You could be more helpful.’
‘He doesn’t believe a word I say. He’s useless.’
Despite her harsh words, Felix could tell she was softening. It was Charlotte’s way – to lash out in temper before she calmed down enough to think. Felix was used to waiting out her anger the way fishermen waited out a storm. Charlotte had failed.
From the moment she saw Pinchbeck talking to the boy back at the coach house she knew the woman was trying to steal him. After five years of travelling with this monster, Charlotte understood how her mind worked. She recognized the sweet smiles and encouraging words that covered the truth about Pinchbeck – Charlotte had once fallen for the same act.
Why did the silly boy have to come back? She’d managed to warn him off – much to Pinchbeck’s irritation – and had gone into her Cabinet to rest, only to wake too late to stop the boy handing over his locket.
Charlotte was furious. Furious with Leander for falling for Pinchbeck’s charms. Furious with her past self for making the same mistake. But, most of all, furious with Pinchbeck, the real villain in all this.
And what did Pinchbeck want with the boy? He was just a street urchin. Charlotte was useful for fixing Pinchbeck’s hair and clothes, and Felix for his music. Maybe Felix was right: Leander was a thief and Pinchbeck always wanted more money – perhaps that was the reason. But why now, after all this time?
She tried to take Felix’s words to heart and be more helpful. She began dragging out rugs and blankets from the carriage while the boys searched for more dry sticks to burn.
But this was bad news. Pinchbeck couldn’t have three captives at once. Charlotte did not fully understand why, but there appeared to be a physical cost to Pinchbeck in keeping the children trapped.
Once, when Charlotte had been with Pinchbeck and Felix for a couple of years the woman took a little girl named Rosa. She was very small – six or seven at the most – and Charlotte had become very fond of her. But Pinchbeck grew drained and tired, as if the Cabinets drew their power from her body. It wasn’t long before Rosa and her Cabinet disappeared during the night, and Charlotte and Felix were forbidden from mentioning her name again. She felt sick at the thought of it. Poor Rosa.
The same would surely happen now – one way or another. How could they prevent it?
She shook out a dusty rug and folded it, placing it on the driest spot of dirt she could find. Pinchbeck had told them to teach Leander their ways, and there’d be more immediate trouble if they didn’t do as she said.
‘Come and sit down,’ she called to the boys.
Leander folded his arms. Frustration bubbled up inside Charlotte, but she clenched her teeth together to stop angry words spilling out. She must stay calm, as Felix did.
‘Here. I have sweets.’ She pulled out a twist of paper from her pocket. Pear drops. She had been making them last as long as possible, and there were still three left. ‘Sit down and you can have one.’
That did the trick, and the boys settled down on the blankets.
‘If she’s really so bad, I’ll run away,’ Leander said, rolling his pear drop round his tongue.
‘You can’t. If you go too far from Pinchbeck, you’ll become insubstantial,’ Charlotte told him.
‘What does in-sub—’
&nbs
p; ‘Insubstantial. It means not solid. Like a ghost.’
A frigid wind blew through the trees, whistling round them and whipping up Leander’s untidy curls. They pulled the rough blankets round their shoulders.
‘You’ll turn to vapour. Be too weak to do anything,’ Felix added. ‘She can’t be more than half a mile away now, or we’d feel it.’
‘Have you ever tried to run away?’
Charlotte met Felix’s eyes for a long moment. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. Felix had warned her not to. She had run as far as her legs would allow and barely found her way back. Pinchbeck had laughed when she returned. ‘It hurts.’
‘How long have you been her captives?’ said Leander.
Charlotte picked at a loose thread on her skirt. ‘She took me five years ago.’
‘Eight for me,’ said Felix.
‘But . . . you must have been just babies?’
Charlotte put her head in her hands. ‘That’s another thing her magic does. We don’t get any older. We’re the same age now as when we were stolen, and we always will be. For ever.’
6
The Magician:
Confidence, Power,
Sleight of Hand
The crunch of gravel alerted them to Pinchbeck’s return. She rounded the corner with a large bundle in her arms and a genial smile.
‘Ah, there’s my little family!’ She handed the parcel to Felix, ruffling his hair fondly. ‘And I smell supper. Such good, obedient children.’
Leander saw Charlotte roll her eyes, but she said nothing.
‘Now then, little Leander,’ Pinchbeck said, pointing to the parcel. ‘Come and see what I’ve brought for you.’ She spoke in a sing-song voice, as if to a small child, and it made Leander feel funny. He was too old to be ‘little Leander’, but it had been a long time since anyone spoke to him so warmly, let alone brought him gifts.
The sackcloth wrapping fell away to reveal an outfit. Long trousers! A white linen shirt with lapels. A grey waistcoat and black frock coat with a single row of buttons. The shirt had been repaired and the outfit was a little mismatched, but they were without doubt the best things Leander had ever owned.
‘For me, truly?’
‘Truly.’ She beamed. Although Leander remained wary, she seemed so kind. It didn’t make sense, with Charlotte and Felix acting like she was sent by the devil himself. ‘Go and change, then!’
It was difficult to change in the carriage where every space was taken up with some weird object or other. Leander hurriedly put the clothes on to avoid the cold and fearful that someone might open the door and expose him in his threadbare undergarments.
The clothes were a little baggy, but he emerged a different boy. Prisoner or not, this was the first time anyone had cared he was clothed and fed since his mother died. His spirits rose; it was good to be wanted.
Pinchbeck was so kind. A thousand times nicer than anyone he had met since being alone. Could she really be as wicked as the others said? Maybe they were tricking him after all.
‘Much better,’ said Pinchbeck. ‘Though we shall have to do something about that hair. Charlotte?’
Charlotte screwed up her face in disgust. ‘He probably has lice.’
‘Do not!’ Leander said indignantly.
‘Just get a comb through it,’ Pinchbeck told her.
Charlotte produced a comb and reluctantly dragged it through the straggly mop on Leander’s head. He clenched his teeth as she tugged at the knots, determined not to show any pain or weakness.
‘Best I can do while he’s so filthy,’ she said after a while. ‘It all needs cutting off,’
Leander hastily dabbed at his eyes so she wouldn’t see that they were watering in pain. ‘Thank you,’ he muttered, cheeks burning.
‘Gather close, my cherubs,’ said Pinchbeck. ‘I have excellent news.’ She cleared her throat. ‘We have an engagement this evening.’
Felix gave a broad smile. ‘A performance, finally.’
Charlotte’s lips thinned and her jaw clenched in an expression of irritation. Everything, it seemed to Leander, made this girl annoyed.
‘This shall be an excellent initiation for our new little Leander. Charlotte – the red gown, if you please. Felix, ensure the equipment is ready. Chop-chop!’ Both children were gone in an instant. Pinchbeck began unpinning her hat, allowing loose dark curls to fall round her face.
‘Please, Miss Pinchbeck,’ said Leander. She blinked as though she had forgotten he was there. ‘What are we doing?’
She laughed again and reached into the deep pocket of her travelling cloak. She produced a gilt-edged visiting card and handed it to Leander who did his best to read it.
‘Mmm . . .’
‘Madame,’ she prompted.
‘Madame Aug-us-tin-a Pinchbeck. Clay-voy—’ He could feel himself blushing. At least Charlotte wasn’t watching. She’d surely have something to say if she knew Leander couldn’t read well.
Pinchbeck took back the card and read it aloud. ‘Madame Augustina Pinchbeck. Clairvoyant, medium, spiritualist. Miracle worker.’ She smiled and curtseyed, as though expecting applause.
Leander had no idea what the words meant, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He smiled and nodded and tried to look impressed.
‘Oh, Leander, you are so lucky I found you. Most people can hardly dream of such sights as you will see.’ She spun round, cloak and skirts swirling about her ankles, then threw her arms up. ‘Augustina Pinchbeck, the most gifted medium in all of England. Nay, all of the world. Certainly, any fool can tap on a table and pretend a ghost did it. If you want something more, there’s only one person who can help you.’
She made a beckoning motion, encouraging him to speak.
‘You, miss?’
‘Augustina Pinchbeck, my boy! Only she can summon ghostly apparitions, as real as the flesh! In your very own parlour, she will reach beyond the veil and bring you the answers your heart most desires.’ Her voice echoed through the woods, loud and strong, as though she was addressing an audience of hundreds.
Charlatans and tricksters would say anything to part a fool from his money – Leander knew that. But he had heard rumours of rich folks entertaining each other by summoning ghosts – folks far more clever and educated than him.
‘Want to be sure dear Grandmama is at peace? Do you seek your fortune?’
Charlotte pushed her way between them, carrying an armful of clothes. Pinchbeck stepped back to let her through without interrupting her patter.
‘My spirit guides will advise you on any subject. Are you trying to win the hand of a fair lady?’ She leaned in with a conspiratorial wink and a giggle, and added in a whisper, ‘It’s always about money or love, my dear. Everyone wants to get the better of fate.’
This was a new side to Pinchbeck. There was something magnetic about the way she spoke and moved that made Leander believe she really was magical. Her dark eyes twinkled with mischief. If she was telling the truth, did that mean Charlotte and Felix’s talk of magic could be true as well?
Maybe they were all liars. Most people were. He’d stay wary. But, all the same, the talk of spirits made him feel excited. He had never dreamed of witnessing a spirit-summoning.
‘Let’s work some miracles, shall we?’ Pinchbeck ruffled his hair.
This jolly mood made the evening warmer. Charlotte and Felix rushed to and fro, sorting and packing and arranging. Pinchbeck stood statue-still in the centre of the chaos, barking instructions. Leander scrambled to make himself useful. He was handed a crystal ball and a soft cloth to polish it with. He had only ever seen such things in drawings of fortune- telling gypsies; it was much heavier than he’d expected.
‘It doesn’t do anything. It’s a decoration,’ said Charlotte, but when she wasn’t looking Leander held it close and gazed into the cloudy glass, hoping to catch a glimpse of something other-worldly. There was nothing, just as Charlotte had said, but still Leander was amazed at how little she and Felix were interested in these wonders.
‘Shoo!’ Charlotte stamped her foot. Leander looked up in time to see a fat black rat scurry away between the wheels of the carriage. He suppressed a shudder.
‘Charlotte,’ called Pinchbeck. ‘Time for the ladies to dress.’
They retired to the carriage. Leander wrapped the crystal ball in its velvet cloth and nestled it gently into a chest. Felix added a half-dozen white tapers.
‘Why do we need candles?’ Leander asked. ‘Won’t they have their own?’
‘These are trick candles. We break them open and snip the wick an inch from the top. Then we melt the wax a little and stick them back together.’
Leander looked more closely and saw there was a little bulge in the wax, evidence of the repair. ‘But why?’
‘When the flame reaches the cut part, they go out. With good timing – pop! – the room goes dark. Magic.’
What a marvellous trick! Leander thought. Imagine sitting in the gloom, summoning spirits, and witnessing the lights snuffed out by an invisible hand. He shivered.
‘I invented that trick,’ said Felix, smiling. ‘Back in the old days, Pinchbeck and I came up with all sorts of ideas to fool people. We were among the first to hold seances and we had to make things up as we went along.’
To think that Leander had hoped to be apprenticed to a bootmaker, and now he was apprenticed to a magician. He decided that he, too, would invent some new tricks for them to perform. As soon as he had the chance to learn how everything worked, he was sure he could dream up some exciting ideas. That would prove his worth to the others.
Except . . . there was that seed of worry again, thoughts of Charlotte and Felix’s warning trying to take root in his mind. He shook himself and tried not to think about cages and monsters.
‘What other tricks are there?’ he asked.
‘You’ll soon learn.’ Felix handed him a thin grey jacket with yellowish smudges around the collar and buttons. ‘Put this on. It’ll make you look the part.’
‘It’s dirty,’ said Leander. He had only just got his new suit, and wasn’t keen to put rags on again.
The Vanishing Trick Page 4