Goodly and Grave in a Case of Bad Magic

Violet’s eyes began to close. “A penny. Then a peashooter,” she whispered.

“I think she’s delirious,” Lord Grave muttered.

Violet’s eyes opened a little. “The boy. He cut me. He had a penny. Smeared it with my blood. Put it in his handkerchief. Then Lucy hit him on the back of the neck with her peashooter. Can I go to sleep now?”

Lord Grave opened his mouth to ask another question, but Mrs Worthington stepped between him and the bed. “I think that’s enough for today, sir,” she said firmly, and began ushering Lucy and Lord Grave towards the stairs. Lucy glanced over her shoulder and saw that Violet was already fast asleep.

When Lord Grave and Lucy had been politely but speedily shown out of the Worthingtons’ cottage, Lord Grave lingered on the doorstep for a few moments.

“I wish I could have gleaned a little more information from young Violet. I’m beginning to think your attacker really might have been magical.”

Lucy frowned. “If he was, why didn’t he use magic to fight back when I hit him with the attack sparks?”

Lord Grave nodded. “That’s a good point. But perhaps he’d already got what he wanted? Which in this case was blood. Perhaps he’d hoped for your blood, but decided to make do with Violet’s.”

“But why would he do such a thing?” Lucy asked, feeling slightly queasy.

Lord Grave put his top hat back on and gazed grimly at Lucy. “There are many magical uses for blood, Lucy, and all of them are very nasty indeed.”

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Back at Grave Hall, Lucy expected that she and Lord Grave would spend some time together discussing what Violet had revealed. But Lord Grave had other ideas.

“It’s a stroke of luck that I invited MAAM to come a couple of days before the actual ball so that we could have a catch-up before the other guests arrive. Lord Percy sent me a chit this morning to let me know they’d all be here at five.”

Lucy, who had become more and more acquainted with the magical world over the last few weeks, knew that chits were a special invention of Lord Percy’s; flying notes that MAAM used to send messages between themselves, and to communicate with other magicians.

“So,” Lord Grave continued, consulting his pocket watch, “there’s about half an hour before they arrive. We’ll be able to confer with them about all this later. In the meantime, would you mind helping Mrs Crawley? I believe she may be feeling somewhat overwhelmed with the preparations for the ball.”

Lucy agreed, but she couldn’t help feeling a little put out. Sometimes she resented the fact that Lord Grave wanted her to be part of MAAM, but also expected her to be a servant. Nevertheless, she set off to the kitchen.

Mrs Crawley was sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by a stack of potatoes. She was sipping at a large tankard of her favourite home-brew. The ale was flavoured with Extra Violent Mustard Mix and Mrs Crawley used it as a pick-me-up when she was feeling particularly fatigued.

“Oh, thank goodness!” she said when she saw Lucy. “I really do need a hand! All these potatoes need peeling, could you make a start on them? Becky keeps sneaking off somewhere. She’s acting very oddly. Lord Percy and the rest of MAAM are arriving soon. Oh, and Diamond O’Brien and the rest of the circus folk are coming tomorrow. It’s all going to be a bit frantic now until the big day!”

“Have you ever seen the circus?” Lucy asked, picking up a potato and starting to peel it. Lord Grave had invited O’Brien’s Midnight Circus to provide some entertainment at the ball. Lucy had seen some of the acts before, and had been extremely impressed.

“No, his Lordship hasn’t always approved of that sort of thing,” Mrs Crawley said, taking a gulp of her ale.

This was true. Relations between MAAM and O’Brien’s Midnight Circus had been somewhat glacial due to the fact that the circus folk operated on what Lord Grave called “the fringes of ethical magic”. However, following the death of two magicians at the hands of Jerome Wormwood, Lord Grave and Diamond O’Brien had decided that the magical community needed to come together.

“Oh, you’ll love it! There’s magical knife-throwing, a woman who can fold herself up and trapeze artists. Without trapezes!”

“That sounds very exciting, to be sure!” Mrs Crawley wiped beery foam from her moustache. The refreshment had rallied her and she recovered her usual good spirits. “Now then. Lord Grave wants to give MAAM a nice dinner tonight. I’d like you and Becky to wait at table, Lucy. Don’t pull that face. If the wind changes you’ll be stuck like that. You and Becky need to work together sometimes.”

Lucy sighed inwardly, but decided not to argue. She carried on peeling potatoes. “How are MAAM getting here?” she asked after a while.

“They’re all coming in Lady Sibyl’s coach.” Mrs Crawley glanced at the kitchen clock. “They should be here any minute.”

“Can I go and watch them land?”

Mrs Crawley smiled. “Of course. Off you go, but don’t be too long.”

“Thank you!” Lucy jumped out of her seat, raced out of the back door and through the kitchen garden. Watching Lady Sibyl’s flying coach arrive was always a thrill. Lucy had ridden in it herself once and dearly hoped she’d do so again one day.

When she reached the front of the house, she stood on the gravel driveway and gazed upwards. She soon spotted an unusual black smudge in the sky. There was a rumbling noise like faint thunder as the smudge grew bigger and bigger, and after a few seconds Lucy could clearly see Lady Sibyl’s shiny black carriage, which was pulled by two horses whose gossamer-thin wings shimmered with rainbow colours where the autumn sunlight touched them.

Lucy skittered out of the coach’s flight path and watched from a safe distance as it began to lose height, landing with a gentle crunch on the Grave drive. The coach driver, a slender woman dressed from head to toe in black velvet, deftly pulled the horses to a halt.

Behind Lucy, the grand front door of Grave Hall opened, and Lord Grave and Bathsheba came down the steps. Bertie and Vonk followed. Lucy eagerly ran up to the coach, preparing to greet her fellow MAAM members.

The stout footman travelling alongside the driver jumped down and hurried over to pull out the carriage steps so the passengers could disembark. Then he unfastened the door and held it open as Lady Sibyl started climbing out.

“Hello!” Lucy called excitedly. But her greeting wasn’t returned.

Lady Sibyl was frowning distractedly. Usually, she was very elegant and sure-footed, but not today, as she stumbled on the last of the coach steps and had to be steadied by her footman. The cause of her upset soon became clear when Beguildy Beguildy and his sister Prudence followed her, helping Lord Percy out of the coach. Lucy gasped and put her hand over her mouth. Poor Lord Percy, who was a sorrowful-looking man at the best of times, was in a terrible state and looked more miserable than ever. His right arm was in a sling, his left eye was swollen and turning black and he had a very nasty cut on his cheek, which was clotted with dried blood.

“What on earth happened to you, old chap?” Lord Grave boomed, striding over to Lord Percy, who was now wearily leaning against Beguildy’s shoulder.

“We stopped off in Grave Village on the way here. I had a fancy for one of Busby’s custard slices. You know how fond I am of them. I was attacked by two blasted urchins. A girl and a boy. Unbelievable,” Lord Percy replied.

“Did they steal anything?” Lord Grave asked.

“No. Managed to fight the little guttersnipes off. Left me with a few cuts and bruises, that’s all,”

“A few cuts and bruises! Dear Percy was very lucky, George. The boy had a knife.” Lady Sibyl’s words gave Lucy a little jolt, and she exchanged glances with Lord Grave, who was surely thinking the same thing as her – was this the same boy who’d attacked her and Violet?

“The vicious little beast wielded it without hesitation, and he would have used it on me if Percy hadn’t bravely shielded me from harm,” Lady Sibyl continued, dabbing at her eyes with a very fancy lace handkerchief. “But you know the most disturbing thing of all, George? Those beastly children weren’t just ordinary nasty little reprobates. They were magical.”

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Lord Grave raised his bushy eyebrows. “Extraordinary. Come on, Percy, let’s get you inside and comfortable, then you can tell all. Vonk, would you organise tea in the MAAM meeting room please? Lucy, perhaps you could help Vonk and then join us.”

Lord Grave and Beguildy each grabbed one of Lord Percy’s elbows and began to guide him up the steps to the front door and into the hallway of the house. Once everyone was inside, Lord Percy, Lady Sibyl and the Beguildys removed their coats and hats. After warming themselves in front of the hallway fire, they headed off to the MAAM meeting room with Lord Grave, leaving Lucy and Vonk to lug all the outdoor garments to the coat cupboard.

“Children attacking you and Violet, and now Lord Percy!” Vonk shook his head as he hung up Lady Sibyl’s cloak, which was trimmed with black and scarlet feathers.

“I’d bet my life one of them is the boy from the alley,” Lucy replied, reaching up to hang Beguildy Beguildy’s navy-blue coat, which had a very fancy brass neck-fastening featuring a ship in full sail.

“We’ll soon find out. No doubt MAAM will get to the bottom of it. Come along, we’d best go and fetch the tea things.”

When Lucy and Vonk reached the kitchen, Vonk looked cautiously around before asking where Becky was.

Mrs Crawley gave a little snort of amusement. “Cleaning out the lavatories and the chamber pots. I know I shouldn’t laugh. She’s absolutely furious, but with Violet laid up … Whatever’s the matter, Vonk?”

“There’s been another incident, Mrs C.” Vonk pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Lucy and Mrs Crawley did likewise. Then Vonk explained what had happened to Lord Percy and Lady Sibyl in Grave Village.

“But that’s terrible,” Mrs Crawley said when Vonk had finished speaking. “Poor Lord Percy. Could there be some connection to the attack on Violet and Lucy? What does his Lordship think?”