As Sylvia and Agnes tripped down one of the gravel paths towards the dancing, a masked waiter appeared from behind a hedge and passed them each a sparkling drink.
“How decadent,” giggled Sylvia, reaching out for a glass. Maximilian peered at the waiter, then a dreadful thought struck him. The drinks could be drugged or, worse still, poisoned! Until Bunty was caught, Sylvia must not eat or drink anything. Before Sylvia could take one of the glasses, Maximilian sprang up and knocked the tray out of the waiter’s hands.
Sylvia shrieked as the glasses smashed to the floor, soaking her dainty shoes. The waiter leaned down to pick up the tray and the broken glass, scrabbling around to see through the narrow eyeholes cut in his mask.
“I can’t see with this thing!” he exclaimed, whipping the mask away to reveal a handsome young man of about twenty. Mortified, Maximilian gave him his most polite “I’m terribly sorry, I mistook you for a dangerous miscreant” miaow but the man simply glared at him.
“Begging your pardons, ladies,” the man continued, getting to his feet and bowing smartly to Sylvia. “There are plenty more drinks in the ballroom.”
Sylvia apologised prettily for Maximilian’s behaviour and ushered him ahead of her. A woman in a shimmering blue dress with peacock feathers pinned round the hem and wearing a towering peacock mask wandered past them, arm in arm with a soldier.
“I don’t know what has got into Max,” Sylvia said to Agnes. “He’s been behaving a little oddly all week. Oh, my shoes are ruined, and they were brand new. Look what you’ve done, Max!”
But Maximilian was not listening. He had spotted something at the end of the lawn. From behind one of the bushes at the East Wing of the castle the figure of a woman in a long gown had appeared. Diamonds glinted in the dark hair tumbling in curls down her shoulders. As she passed one of the pumpkin lanterns on the stairs up to the castle, her gown twinkled with the light of hundreds of stars. It was the Viscountess. Bunty!
Leaving Sylvia dabbing at her dress with a napkin, Maximilian sped off after the figure in blue.
It took longer than usual to cross the lawn. There were people everywhere. Twice Maximilian had to leap over the long train of an unnecessarily elaborate dress, and once he had to take a large detour round someone dressed as a pumpkin. By the time he reached the castle he was very out of breath. He dashed into the hall. The Viscountess was standing like a statue in the middle of the floor, looking up towards her portrait. With the lamps turned down low so that the shadows flickered and danced and her dress shimmered in the half-light, there was something very eerie about it all. But Maximilian knew better than to believe all that nonsense about ghosts. This was Bunty, dressed as the Viscountess to scare everyone and steal the Viscountess’s precious tiara from Arabella. Maximilian bounded across the floor and took a flying leap at her. As his claws sank into the soft velvet of her gown, the Viscountess flung her arms out either side and rose into the air. Maximilian yelped in horror as he felt himself soaring up and watched the marble of the hall sink away beneath him. What on earth was happening? He dug his claws in a little deeper, hoping that they would not give way. The Viscountess flew higher and higher, the great cavern of the hall opening up below, and Maximilian started to whimper.
“Too high! Too high! I faint if I am too high. The vertigo!” cried the Viscountess in a voice that sounded suspiciously familiar and not at all Bunty-ish. She waved frantically at someone on the ground and then, with Maximilian still clinging to her dress, she sank back towards the floor. When they were about three cat-lengths from the ground, Maximilian loosened his grip and fell, his paws feeling very shaky.
“Honestly, I should have done it myself,” said a voice from a shadowy alcove to the side of the hall. Lord Rorston stepped out, crossed to the Viscountess and tugged a thick wire from the back of her dress. She put a hand up to her head and, removing her wig, gave her head a good scratch. Maximilian gasped as the true identity of the Viscountess was revealed. It was Antonio.
“I hate this costume,” he whined. “And this dress is covered in mud. Why should this be so?”
“You must have got it dirty when you were play-acting in the galleries the other night,” said Lord Rorston. “What a fright you gave everyone, making it look like the Viscountess had escaped from her portrait. Very clever. You’ll have to give the painting back at some point, though, old chap. It’s terribly valuable, you know.”
Antonio looked astonished. “Me?” he said. “You thought it was me? I was fast asleep in that ridiculously short bed that they have given me. Such a silly bed, it would not fit a child. A tiny child. A mouse of a child—”
Lord Rorston cut him off. “But if it wasn’t you pretending to be the Viscountess, who was it? I thought you were adding a little Halloween atmosphere.”
Antonio fixed Lord Rorston with a steely glare. “I am the Great Furigo, the most accomplished illusionist in all of London. I am the atmosphere!”
Maximilian’s head reeled. Furigo! Of course. That was why Antonio had seemed so familiar, and why he thought he remembered that peculiar hand movement the man had. This was the Great Furigo. But why was a magician here and pretending to be a researcher? In a moment, Furigo solved that mystery for him.
“Ah, the little cat fellow,” said Furigo, spotting Maximilian. “You like our magic trick for Arabella, yes? We catch her a ghost for her party. It will be a great joke.”
A joke? Maximilian felt his tail almost buzzing. So Lord Rorston had been planning to scare everyone with the Viscountess’s ghost, but as a joke. That was why he had invited Furigo to stay. Who better to create a ghost than a famous magician, and one who had astounded London by making a ghost appear on stage?
Bunty must have known about all of this, he thought. She must have borrowed the dress without her father knowing, to perform her own hauntings. It was the perfect opportunity for her to scare us all away while she searched for the diamonds.
Maximilian liked solving mysteries, but any satisfaction he may have felt on solving this one was short-lived. The blood drained from his head as he realised one more thing. While he had been chasing Lord Rorston and Antonio, Sylvia was out in the garden.
And so was Bunty.
Maximilian dashed across the lawn to where he had left Agnes and Sylvia, but there was no sign of them. He looked around desperately, scanning the throng of party guests. He could see Lord Fawley talking to Queen Elizabeth by one of the fountains and a few metres away Arabella was holding court to the mummy and a couple of gondoliers. Maximilian swept his gaze across the party. Far across the lawn, by the entrance to the rose garden, there had been a flash of silver picked out by the moonlight. Sylvia’s dress!
He leapt down into the crowd and dodged between the feet of the partygoers miaowing his “please let me through, I am attempting a dangerous rescue” miaow. The night air was full of music and clinking champagne glasses. Maximilian leapt over one of the pumpkins lining the pathways, trying not to wince as the lantern inside it singed his tummy. A dark shadow fled towards him, one emerald orb flashing out in the dark. Oscar.
“The rose garden!” his friend panted. “I couldn’t do anything. I’m sure it’s Bunty.”
Maximilian pushed on and reached the rose garden in a matter of moments. Ahead he could see Sylvia arm in arm with someone dressed as a milkmaid. He picked up the pace to catch up with them, all the time frantically miaowing at Sylvia to go back to the party.
“Lord Fawley asked if we could collect some of the roses for Arabella. Silly man, he forgot to sort it out earlier,” the girl in the milkmaid’s costume was saying. It was definitely Bunty’s voice. As they turned a corner at one of the ornamental hedges, she slipped a hand into one of the folds of her dress and drew out a knife. Maximilian felt his heart leap with fear. He let out a roar and sprang, his teeth and claws flashing, and sank them into the girl’s leg. Bunty shrieked and kicked out, trying to shake him off. He clung on. The girl twisted herself round and, with a vicious kick, slammed Max
imilian into a stone urn. He fell to the ground. His head was spinning and his eyes blurred.
“Bunty!” Sylvia cried. “What on earth are you doing? It’s Max!” She dropped to her knees and stroked Maximilian’s head. He gave out a tiny miaow that was meant to say “never mind me, follow Oscar back to safety”, but Sylvia did not understand. He was aware of Oscar beside him, hunkering down and hissing at Bunty, ready to attack.
“Stupid animal. I never did like cats!” Bunty spat. She leaned over Sylvia’s shoulder and the moon glinted against the blade of the knife. Oscar leapt towards her and with a flash she had slashed at his leg, making him fall to the ground. Bunty grabbed at the shoulder of Sylvia’s dress, twisting the fabric into a tight knot on which the Moonrise diamonds sparkled. Sylvia cried out as the blade pressed into her shoulder.
“I knew it!” Bunty said. “The minute I saw your dress I knew you had found them. You don’t even know what they are, do you, you silly girl!”
“I … I don’t know what you mean!” Sylvia said, her eyes wide with fear.
“The Moonrise,” Bunty said, pushing the blade more firmly against Sylvia’s shoulder. “You sewed them into this ridiculous thing. They’re worth a fortune! Well, you’re not having them. They’re mine! I did all the work in the family archives. Everyone thought the Moonrise had been sold, just like all the other jewels. Daddy loaned me the Viscountess’s diary as something to read on the journey down here. He didn’t want to be bothered with a silly girly diary. He was far too busy looking through dreary old estate papers, writing some silly history for Lord Fawley and plotting some stupid practical joke to give Arabella a ghost on her birthday. Because Arabella always has to have what she wants, doesn’t she! Well, more fool him! I found out about the Viscountess and her hiding place. I discovered that the Moonrise was still here. It’s mine!”
With a flash of the blade that made Sylvia shriek with terror Bunty tore the frill away from the front of Sylvia’s gown. She stuffed it into her pocket and, turning on her heel, she ran from the garden.
Sylvia gasped. “Max, we must tell Lord Fawley,” she said in a shaking voice. She scooped Maximilian up and cuddled him close, but he wriggled free. This was no time to wait for the humans. Bunty was going to get away with Arabella’s diamonds and only Maximilian and Oscar could stop her. With a “follow me” miaow he dashed away after her.
Maximilian and Oscar ran through the gardens with Sylvia close on their heels. Bunty pushed her way roughly through the guests, colliding with a tall lady decked out in an elaborate eagle costume and getting tangled up with her plumed headdress. Tearing herself away, she ploughed on, knocking a tray of glasses out of a footman’s hand and making a beeline for the side of the castle. Following her, Sylvia rounded the side of one of the fountains decked with pumpkin lanterns and ran full pelt into Arabella.
“What on earth?” cried Arabella. “You almost spilled my drink.”
“There’s no time to explain,” gasped Sylvia. “We have to catch Bunty. She has the diamonds.”
Arabella’s eyes grew wide. “What diamonds?”
“The Moonrise stones.”
Arabella frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”
Sylvia coughed and caught at her breath. “Bunty found them. Something about the Viscountess hiding the stones in the theatre. I had them sewn into my dress, but I thought they were just glass. She attacked me in the rose garden and stole them.”
Maximilian miaowed in frustration. They were wasting too much time talking! He grabbed hold of the tail of Arabella’s mermaid costume and tugged at it, miaowing his “hurry, she’s getting away with the diamonds” miaow, and dashed off after Bunty. Sylvia grabbed Arabella’s hand and followed.
Maximilian and Oscar sprinted across the grass. In the middle of the beautifully tended lawn that spread out before them stood a tiny plane. Bunty was clambering into the cockpit and feverishly working at the controls.
“Lord Rorston’s plane!” Maximilian cried. “So that’s how she’s planning to escape.”
Maximilian dashed forwards, throwing every last bit of energy at reaching Bunty before she took off.
He reached the plane as it spluttered into life and began to trundle forwards, the wheels cutting deep grooves through the soft ground. Maximilian hunkered down, ready to pounce, then sprang at the passenger seat in front of Bunty. It was a narrow miss and he found himself hanging from the side of the plane as it swung violently round and Bunty prepared to roll down the lawn for take-off.
His paws scrabbling at the cold metal, Maximilian clawed his way into the front. Bunty pushed down hard on one of the levers in the front of the cockpit and they started to pick up speed, careering towards Oscar and the girls. He heard Sylvia shout “no!” and push Arabella to the ground as the plane lifted itself into the air and soared over their heads. In the control seat Bunty laughed, a spiteful cackling laugh.
“And now to get rid of you!” she snarled, glaring down at Maximilian.
Suddenly they lurched to the side and Maximilian felt himself slipping on the leather seating as it tilted towards the ground. He dug his claws in and let out a frightened “mrowwww”. The girl was trying to tip him out! One of the taller trees on the estate loomed up in front of them and Bunty swung the plane back at the last minute, the edge of the wing just clipping it and sending branches tumbling to the ground.
Maximilian sprang on to Bunty’s lap and slipped down into the cockpit. The girl swiped at him but she could not grab at Maximilian and control the plane at the same time. Instead, she grasped the steering stick still tighter and pulled, tipping once more towards the ground. Maximilian slid sideways. Below, he could see the ghostly galleon being cut free from its moorings and sent off into the middle of the ornamental lake, where it would form the centrepiece for a grand firework display at midnight. He saw Sylvia and Arabella running through the gardens to where the guests danced, oblivious to the drama unfolding above their heads. And he saw the ground, frighteningly far away and not looking like a soft landing place for a small cat.
“Get out!” hissed Bunty, kicking at Maximilian. Maximilian hissed back at her. The girl’s knuckles were white with the pressure of pulling on the steering stick. The plane tipped further to the side. Soon Maximilian would be rolled out altogether.
With a miaow of “you cannot get away with this”, Maximilian wrapped his magnificent tail around the stick and pulled as hard as he could. The plane swung back suddenly, jolting Maximilian over to the side. Bunty cried out with anger but it was too late – the plane had swung out of control. There was an awful splutter and the propeller on the front stopped spinning.
“No!!!” screamed Bunty. She scrabbled desperately at the controls, but the plane started to free-fall down towards the ground. Maximilian miaowed in terror as the lake reared up to meet them. He saw the water gleaming in the moonlight, the party guests gathering for the firework display and, straight ahead, cobwebbed and glowing under its hundreds of lanterns, the ghostly galleon.
The plane sank lower and lower, one wing skimming the water as it tipped to the side. Then, at the last minute, Maximilian sprang at the steering stick, landing on it with his full weight, and the plane veered sharply to the left. It hit the lake with a splash that made the galleon buck out of the water, rattling its sails and shaking the cobwebs from the rigging. The plane sliced through the water, spinning to a stop in the middle of the lake, where it started to sink. Bunty clambered out of the cockpit, her face a mask of fury, and tumbled into the lake.
Maximilian splashed his paws about in alarm. The lake water was freezing and foul-tasting, and the cockpit was quickly filling with it. There was nothing for it; he was going to have to swim. He hauled himself out of the cockpit and flopped over the side in a most undignified manner, letting out a “mrow!” of surprise as the ice-cold water coursed over his fur. Maximilian paddled with his paws, but the water flooded into his mouth and ears, making him gasp and choke, and before he had moved forwards
even one cat-length he felt his bottom sinking into the water. He kicked out with his back legs and, little by little, edged towards the bank. Ahead of him he saw Bunty, She was struggling, her arms flailing around. As he drew near her, her head disappeared under the water. She pushed herself up, spluttering.
“My dress!” she shrieked. “It’s too heavy!”
She sank below again. Maximilian ducked his head down under the water, ignoring the cold as it rushed into his ears. Pushing as hard as he could with his back legs, he dived down towards Bunty. The great folds of fabric around the waist of her milkmaid dress were tied on with ribbons at the back. If he could only unleash them, then she could swim to the surface again.
Maximilian pushed himself down, feeling his lungs tighten. Reaching the girl, he clawed at the ribbons on the back of her gown. His lungs began to burn and he was desperate to breathe again. His head swam and he could feel his paws growing weak. He was about to pass out when his claw whipped one of the ribbons free and the folds of fabric around Bunty’s dress fell away down into the lake. Freed from the weight, Bunty kicked up towards the surface, taking Maximilian with her.
Maximilian surfaced, gasping for air. Through the water in his ears and fur he heard muffled shouts of men dragging the frantic Bunty on to the lawn. One grabbed Maximilian by the scruff of the neck and deposited him by the side of the lake, where Sylvia fell on him, rubbing him down with the fabric of her shawl to get him dry.
The Phantom Portrait Page 7