Magic Below Stairs (9 page)

Bess didn't slacken her pace. “Oh, don't be such a dandy. You clean your own boots every night, no matter what. Just this one time, they will need it. That won't kill you. Come on!”

As he was cleaning the manure off his boots later, Frederick remembered the exchange with Bess. He wondered what he was going to find in his boots the next morning. Better than simply ignoring whatever it was, Frederick thought, would be making it more difficult for the other servants to meddle with his things. Frederick went in search of Mr. Kimball to ask for permission to sleep elsewhere in the future.

“The servants at Skeynes are quartered in the attic,” said Mr. Kimball. “Where else would you wish to sleep?”

“Wouldn't I be more use to his lordship if I were close at hand?” Frederick asked. “Somewhere near his bedchamber? I can make up a bed for myself in a corner of his dressing room.”

Mr. Kimball thought it over. “Very well. You may sleep in Lord Schofield's dressing room, provided you keep an eye on the fire in his lordship's bedchamber. You wouldn't credit how it can smoke at times. There must be something wrong with that flue.”

Lord Schofield's dressing room was just off the room where Lord Schofield usually slept. With luck, Frederick thought, he might learn a bit more about the curse on that bedchamber. “I keep seeing fresh soot in the grate of the dressing room fireplace in the mornings. I think there must be a bird's nest somewhere up in the flue.”

“Possibly.” Mr. Kimball frowned. “I'll send for the sweep at once.”

As good as his word, Mr. Kimball had the chimney sweep in the very next day. As the maids had predicted, the soot was dreadful. Nothing of interest was found anywhere in the chimneys, not so much as a bird's feather, nothing to explain any problems with the flues. By the end of the week, the last of the general household soot had been dusted away and cleanliness restored. But by Sunday morning, Frederick found fresh flecks of black in the dressing room fireplace.

The first chance he had, Frederick showed Mr. Kimball the soot.

“Looks like soot, you're right about that,” said Mr. Kimball. “No chance anyone used that fireplace without you noticing?”

“No chance at all. You don't suppose it has something to do with the curse, do you?” Frederick asked.

Mr. Kimball looked offended. “I do not! Nothing of the sort. Obviously there's something nesting up there somewhere, a bird or a squirrel, something the sweep just didn't notice.”

The next night that he slept in Lord Schofield's dressing room, Frederick woke in the dark. His eyes told him nothing, but he distinctly heard the sound of dry leaves rustling. At first Frederick, still half dreaming, took it for granted. When he could, he always slept with a window open. After a few moments, however, he woke up enough to remember that the little window in the dressing room didn't open. Whatever the sound was, it didn't come from outdoors.

Frederick pushed up on one elbow, staring around despite the darkness. He strained his ears, grateful he heard no squeaking of any kind.

No squeaking, but just beside him, a soft deep voice murmured, “Warn his nibs, young Frederick. There's something in the chimney, something I can't catch. It won't hurt me, but if it can, it might hurt you. For certain sure, it will try to hurt his lordship.”

“Billy Bly?” Frederick reached out toward the voice, feeling nothing but air. “You're
here
?”

“You noticed. I was starting to think you never would.” The deep voice came from the far end of the bed as Billy Bly tugged at Frederick's blanket to wrap it more snugly around Frederick's feet. “Of course I'm here. Who else would it be?”

With all his heart, Frederick wished for a light. “You're really here!”

“Aye. You were flitting, so I flitted too.”

“But Lord Schofield banished you.”

“From his house, as he had every right to do,” Billy Bly agreed. “Not from every house. His nibs never mentioned this place.”

“You know what he meant,” Frederick said.

“Did I? I know what he
said
.” Billy Bly chuckled, a dry sound like leaves rustling. “At best, magic only does what you say. No guarantee it ever does what you want. What his nibs meant doesn't enter into it, not unless he said it just exactly so.”

“When did you come? How long have you been here?”

“As long as you have.” The voice in the dark sounded cross. “You're not half thick, lad. You didn't notice my message? I had a job finding dried beans and dried peas at this time of year, I can tell you.”

Frederick felt foolish for missing the significance of the peas and beans. “I thought one of the other servants did that just to be a nuisance.”

“I did it so you would know I was watching out for you. I don't fancy letting any of the other servants see me.” Under his breath, Billy Bly added, “Rubies to radishes they would tattle to that butler about me.”

Frederick let the familiar sense of companionship he associated with Billy Bly's presence wash over him. It felt like a good meal when he was hungry. It felt like the warmth of a well-laid fire on a cold wet night. It felt like coming home. Frederick couldn't keep the words back. “I missed you. I don't want Lord Schofield to banish you again.”

Billy Bly sounded somewhat embarrassed. “And I missed you too, lad. But there's no help for it this time. You must warn his nibs-ship not to come here. The wizard is too proud of his family home to stay away, but all the while he is here, he's in deadly peril.”

“Is it the curse?” Frederick asked. “Is that what you found in the chimney?”

“I found something. I can't tell you much about curses,” said Billy Bly. “They don't work on us brownies the way they do on you mortals. I've tried talking with it, but I can't get a word out of the thing. Whether it can't answer me or whether it won't, I couldn't say. What I do know is, that thing is bad. It looks nasty. It feels nasty. It even tastes nasty. It's huge, but it moves too fast for me to catch. When I do get a grip on it, bits of it come away in my hands. Fair makes my skin crawl, but it doesn't slow the thing down a jot.”

Frederick asked, “Is it some kind of animal, then?”

Billy Bly sounded very grave. “It's no animal. Not a snake, though it looks like one. It stinks of malice. Sometimes it looks like a bit of rope. Sometimes it's as thick as your neck, but sometimes it's long and thin. Depends on where it is hiding in the chimney. Some places are too small even for me to reach.”

Frederick kicked his legs free of the blanket. “Let me help you catch it. What if we had a net? Do you think a net would work?”

“Stay.” Billy Bly sounded stern. “I didn't come to rouse you. I don't want the whole house on end. Bad enough I spilled a pint of milk when I was chasing it out of the kitchen.”

“That was you?” Frederick asked. “Mr. Grant was in a dreadful strop about that spilled milk.”

“Sun was up before I had a chance to return to the kitchen. By then the maids were stirring. I dared not stay to clean it up. His nibs won't be happy to learn I am here, for things do seem to happen when I'm around. Fragile keepsakes fall and smash. It's the way of things. But learn I'm here he must, lad. You must give him a message.”

“No!” Frederick tried to rise.

“Yes!” Billy Bly twisted the blanket so tight around his legs that Frederick could hardly wriggle. “Do it however you please, but don't let Thomas Schofield come here without warning him of the danger.”

“How am I going to tell his lordship about the thing in the chimney without letting him know you're here?” Frederick asked. “He's sure to send you away again.”

“Let him.”

Frederick's throat grew so tight he could hardly get words out. “I won't. I can't.”

“All the same, you must warn him.”

Frederick clutched his head in despair. “
Dear Lord Schofield. Don't come here. There's a bit of rope in the chimney. Your obedient servant, Frederick Lincoln.
Is that what you want me to tell him?”

“Seems to me that would do the trick nicely. But suit yourself,” said Billy Bly when Frederick emitted a fizzing sound of disagreement. “If you can't think how to put it, ask that young red-haired maid of yours. She knows how to do things properly. Don't let the grass grow between your toes while you fret over what to do. Send a message and send it soon. Soon! Better to do it badly than leave the task undone.”

With one last tug at the blanket to tuck Frederick in, Billy Bly departed. Frederick found himself alone in a perfectly silent room. Nothing rustled but Frederick, fighting to escape his bedding.

Once he was free, Frederick made himself lie quiet and still, but he did not sleep for a long time. Instead he stared up into the dark, ears straining for the sound of anything, anything at all, lurking in the chimney. Young ears are better than old, Hetty had told him. Frederick was glad of it. It would be terrible to be old and deaf and never know if something full of malice, something that could look like a snake or a bit of rope, was coming after him in the dark.

Houses make noise at night, Frederick discovered. Each time he began to drift to sleep, a distant window would rattle or a nearby floorboard would creak. He started awake again and again, frightened. The sense of peace and comfort that usually accompanied the rustling noise he associated with Billy Bly was gone. Instead, Frederick found himself on watch in the night, waiting for danger that never came.

In the morning, a message arrived express for Mr. Kimball. Within minutes, the whole staff had the news:

Lord and Lady Schofield were to arrive that very day. Everyone worked with particular zeal to bring Skeynes to a peak of beauty and comfort. Frederick was finished with his duties by midday, so he went to find Bess.

The moment Bess laid eyes on him, she felt his forehead. “Frederick, what's wrong? Are you running a fever? You look dreadful. Are you sickening for something?”

“No. I need your help.” Frederick urged Bess out of the servants' hall and down the steps toward the still room. “You mustn't tell anyone. Not anyone. Promise!”

“What's happened? Are you sure you're not sick?” Bess let Frederick chivy her until they were out of sight of the other servants, then dug in her heels and refused to go another step. “Are you in trouble? Whatever it is, I can't promise anything until you tell me what you want.”

“I'm not in trouble.” Frederick took a good look at Bess and decided to risk complete honesty. “Promise you won't tell.”

“I can only promise to use my wits.” Bess put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Tell me.”

The way Bess's eyes flashed, Frederick knew it was no use trying to swear her to secrecy first. Trusting to her good sense, he told her everything he knew.

Bess was silent for long moments after Frederick finished speaking. When she spoke at last, she was frowning so fiercely, Frederick thought for a moment she might be angry with him. “You must warn his lordship. He and Lady Schofield are to arrive today, so there's no time to send a message.”

Frederick had worked that much out for himself. “I could try to stop the carriage, but if I wait until they pull up at the door, he might ignore me and go straight in before I can get his attention.”

“You're right.” Bess's face brightened. “Do you know the gatehouse, just off the main road? The carriage slows down there to make the turn. If you wait at the gatehouse, you can warn his lordship before the carriage comes near the house.”

Frederick started for the door. “Tell me how to find it. Do I just keep on down the lane until I reach the main road?”

“Yes, it's easy—but I'll show you the way. Just wait half a moment—I must put on my bonnet.” Bess whisked off.

Frederick did not wait. He knew he risked losing his position, abandoning his duties without permission to lie in wait for his lordship's carriage. It would never do for Bess to get the sack because she helped him do it. He legged it out the door and across the stable yard.

Not five hundred yards down the lane, Bess caught up with him, bonnet crooked and face scarlet with suppressed rage. “Traitor!”

Frederick didn't slow down. “No sense in both of us risking the sack. Go back.”

Despite her skirts, Bess matched him stride for stride with no difficulty. “Not a chance.”

Sometimes only walking fast, but sometimes running, they hurried down the graveled lane together. On either hand grew tall hedges full of birds and blossoms. Frederick ignored the beauty of the day. He had a grim message to deliver.