Blythewood (24 page)

IT TOOK ME a moment to realize that the candles in the candelabellum had burnt down. That’s why we were in the dark.
After a few moments of silence—we were all, I believe, stunned
by the show we had seen—there was a rustling and the strike of
a match. Miss Sharp and Miss Corey had fetched two lanterns
from the doorway and set them on the table. The light shining
up on our faces turned us all into frightful ghouls, Dame Beckwith most of all.

“But I don’t understand.” Daisy was the first to speak. “I
thought the prince went on to found the Order.” She sounded
aggrieved, like a child whose favorite bedtime story has been
changed.

“That is the story the sisters and knights passed down,”
Dame Beckwith said. “The real story was considered too frightening, but the sisters preserved the truth in the candelabellum
so a select few would know of the danger that has always haunted our Order.” She turned to Nathan. “The man you saw today
is not a man at all. He’s a creature made up of shadow that can
control the shadows. He’s the Shadow Master.”

“Was he ever a man?” Nathan asked hoarsely. If I didn’t
know better I would think he’d been crying. “I mean, the prince
in the story was a man before the crows got at him.”

“Yes,” Dame Beckwith admitted reluctantly. “The creature
you met today and who’s been following Ava was likely once
a man, but he must have been taken over by the shadows long
ago. When he wishes he can dissolve himself back into the
shadows—into the crows that attacked you today or into a giant winged creature—a Darkling.”

“You’re saying that the Darklings are made up of shadows,
too?” I asked.
Dame Beckwith stared at me. “Weren’t you watching, Avaline? Didn’t you see the Darkling break into the shadow crows?
It’s one of the shapes they can take. That’s what makes them so
dangerous. The boy you saw at the Triangle who you thought
saved you—how else could he appear to you without wings but
by changing his shape?”
“But he saved me!” I cried.
“Did he?” Dame Beckwith asked. “Or did he bring you to
the hospital where you were held captive and tortured?”
Her question—one I had asked myself many times—silenced me. Taking my silence as acquiescence, she nodded once
at me and then addressed the group.
“I have shown you this so you know what evil you encountered today and how fortunate you were to escape it. You must
avoid any contact with that man.” Here she looked at Nathan,
but then she switched her gaze to me. “Or with the Darklings. They are both creatures of the shadows, deceptive and
seductive. They want to get inside us and destroy our power.
If the shadows infiltrate the Order, then there will be no one
to stop the creatures of Faerie from coming out of the woods
and swarming over the whole world. That’s what the shadow
creatures want: evil and chaos and despair. That’s what they
feed on. We must reinforce the magic of the bells that protects
Blythewood and continue our war against the creatures in the
wood. But you must avoid the shadow creatures.”
“Avoid them?” Nathan cried. “Is that all you’re going to do?
Those demons might have taken Louisa—”
“Yes.” Dame Beckwith cut Nathan off with a fierce look.
“They most likely did. And that’s why we have to avoid them.
That’s what they do when we get too close to them—they steal
what’s most precious to us.” Nathan’s eyes flashed and Dame
Beckwith’s tone softened. “All we can do is protect what we
have left.”
“But why not try to get her back?” Nathan demanded.
“Because she won’t be the same,” Dame Beckwith answered. “You saw what happened to the prince in the story.
Do you really want to see your sister if that’s what happened
to her?”
Nathan looked pale in the lantern light, but he persisted.
“Then why don’t we destroy the lot of them!”
“We’ve tried,” Dame Beckwith said. “We’ve sent in the
Hunt to destroy them, but whenever we have we’ve lost more
of our people than we’ve killed of theirs. And always there are
the girls who vanish in the battle and are never seen again. I’d
rather see a girl dead than taken by those creatures! Still, if
these attacks persist we may have to prepare for a Hunt if it’s
our only option left. And if that’s the case . . . may the Bells save
our souls.” She rose to her feet, but Nathan wasn’t finished.
“Isn’t there something in all those books and gewgaws
out there”—he waved his hand to the corridor of glass cases
we’d come through—“that could tell us how to destroy them?
Couldn’t this . . .
hoo-ha
”
—
he tapped one of the crystal bells
and the candelabellum shivered with a sound that made my
skin prickle—“tell us anything more?”
“We’ve looked through the books,” Dame Beckwith replied. “And we’ve fiddled with the
gewgaws
, as you called them.
Some of them are quite dangerous. Three of my classmates
were killed fiddling with them. And as for the candelabellum . . .” She cast her eye on the glass and metal contraption.
“It may once have told more than one story, but now this is the
only story we know how to make it tell. Others have tried to
tinker with it and coax knowledge from it, but they have come
to ruin by doing so. You must never enter the candelabellum
chamber alone. We believe the candelabellum is calibrated to
pick up on minute vibrations of breath, heartbeat, even electrical pulses within the brain, and respond to individuals. There
are stories of those who have entered the candelabellum chamber alone coming out mad. Even in a group, it is not . . .
healthy
to spend too much time down here watching the play of light
and shadow. We’ve tarried too long already. It’s time to go.”
She picked up one of the lanterns and strode to the door.
One by one we followed her. She waited at the door until we’d
all passed through and then she locked the door behind her and
pocketed the key.
“You lead the way,” she instructed Miss Sharp. Surprised,
Miss Sharp led us down the corridor. I started to follow, but
Dame Beckwith laid her hand on my arm. I was startled by how
icy her fingers felt.
“Hold back a moment, Ava. I want a word with you.”
My stomach clenched as Daisy and Helen helplessly looked
over their shoulders at me and then vanished into the gloom.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she said.
“Y-yes,” I stammered, wondering how on earth I was going
to tell her about the dreams and how I felt about the Darkling.
“I didn’t mean to keep it from you, but I didn’t want to say in
front of the others.”
“Of course not. I respect that. I don’t believe in publicly airing the behavior of my faculty.”
Faculty? What was she talking about? Seeing my confusion
Dame Beckwith narrowed her eyes at me. “There was someone
else in the Wing & Clover, wasn’t there? I understand you protecting my son, but if there was a faculty member there I must
know.”
“Oh!” I cried, relieved that she didn’t know about the
dreams after all. “Yes, Miss Frost was there. I didn’t want to . . .
well, I didn’t want to get her in trouble.”
“Your concern is touching, but not wise. I think you can see
that keeping secrets here is not a good idea. Secrets thrive in
shadows.” She glanced meaningfully at the dark passage. The
rest of our party was already on the stairs. Only Dame Beckwith’s lantern lit the gloomy hall, throwing looming shadows
on the walls. For a terrifying moment I thought she might extinguish the lantern to give me a lesson, but she only turned to
go, saying as she did, “And the shadows thrive on secrets.”
z
o
Z

I followed Dame Beckwith up to the library, where I found
Daisy and Helen waiting for me. Mr. Bellows and Nathan were
gone. Miss Sharp was helping Miss Corey dust soot off the
bookshelves. Dame Beckwith whispered something to Miss
Sharp and then left.

What was the point of warning me about secrets, I wondered, when she kept so many? As I joined Daisy and Helen I
saw them exchange a look. They had been talking about me, no
doubt reviewing all they’d learned about me—the Triangle fire,
the fact I’d seen the Darkling before, and that I’d spent months
in a mental institution. All the things I’d kept from them because I was afraid they would recoil in horror from me if they
knew. They were not recoiling now, but the look of pity in Daisy’s eyes and the questions in Helen’s were suddenly more than
I could bear facing.

Daisy gasped and looked down at her empty hands. “I must
have left it in Dame Beckwith’s office! Oh dear, what if she reads
Mr. Appleby’s letters? I’ll have to go back for it . . .”

“I’ll go for you,” I said, getting to my feet. “There’s something I need to ask her anyway.”
I left before Daisy could object, but not before catching Helen’s suspicious look. But I
did
have a question for Dame Beckwith. I wanted to know if what had happened to the prince in
the candelabellum story was what had happened to my mother.
Had she been devoured by the shadow crows? Is that why I had
found the black feather by her body? I hated the thought of
those . . .
things
invading her body, but worst of all I hated what
Dame Beckwith had said had happened to the prince—that the
shadows ate his soul. I couldn’t bear to think that that had happened to my mother, but I needed to know if it had.
When I got to her office door, though, I hesitated. What if
the feather really did mean my mother’s soul had been taken by
the shadows? Did I
want
Dame Beckwith to know that?
“I tell you it’s that girl. She’s the one who’s drawn the shadows here!”
The voice came from inside Dame Beckwith’s office. I
recognized the plummy outraged tones of Miss Frost. And I
was pretty sure whom she meant by
that girl
. I should either
knock and announce my presence or leave . . . but then I heard
Miss Frost add, “It’s little wonder, given what happened to her
mother.”
Euphorbia Frost knew what happened to my mother? Any
thought of leaving gone, I looked up and down the hall to see if
anyone was near and then moved closer to the door.
“We don’t really know what happened to Evangeline,”
Dame Beckwith said, her voice angry—and loud enough for me
to hear through the door.
“We know that she vanished in the woods,” Miss Frost
said. “And that when she came back she was covered with black
feathers! She was never the same.”
“She’s not the only one who was changed after she came
back from the woods.”
A silence followed these words and then a long sigh and a
creaking of springs. I could picture Miss Frost sinking into the
deep armchair in front of Dame Beckwith’s desk. But what did
Dame Beckwith mean? Who else had managed to come back
from the woods? Then I heard a strange fluting noise, like the
call of a wild loon calling for its lost mate. It took me a moment
to realize it was the sound of Miss Frost weeping.
“There, there, Euphorbia, you know I don’t like to mention
it. And I know how hard you try to immerse yourself in your
work.”
“Only for
his
sake!” Miss Frost cried. “I swore to myself
that I would honor Sir Malmsbury’s memory by continuing his
work. It’s the least I can do after . . . after leaving him behind!”
Another bout of high-pitched sobs followed, punctuated by
soothing words from Dame Beckwith from which I gathered
that Sir Malmsbury had been lost in the woods on a collecting expedition and that Miss Frost blamed herself. I wasn’t sure
what was more surprising—that imperious Miss Frost blamed
herself for
anything
or that Dame Beckwith was so indulgent.
But after a few minutes her tone became firmer.
“Now, Euphorbia,” I heard her say,” I
do
understand your
little trips to the Wing & Clover, but if I’m to continue paying
your tab I must have a full account of who you meet there. Ava
says she saw you with a man.”
“I’d never speak to a strange man without a proper introduction!”
“Not even after a few snifters of brandy?”
A spluttering sound erupted, followed by another sigh of
springs and a low murmur. I only caught a few words—“not
sure . . . a fine Madeira . . . no, I don’t think so . . .”—and then in
reply to another query, her voice rose in agitation. “I can’t remember! All I remember is finding myself out on the street and
then, luckily, Sarah Lehman came along and found a cab to take
us back to Blythewood. I had a terrible headache.”
“It sounds as though you were mesmerized,” Dame Beckwith said.
It sounded to
me
as if Miss Frost might have simply drunk
too much and once again Sarah had had to come to her rescue.
“Yes, I believe I was. It’s all a bit of a blur, but I do remember
one thing he asked.”
“Yes?” Dame Beckwith asked. “Did he ask about Blythewood? Did he try to wrest from you the secrets of the Order?”
“No,” Miss Frost said. “He asked about Avaline. He said he
knew her father.”

I waited to hear Dame Beckwith tell Miss Frost she must be
mistaken—or that it must be a lie. Surely a soulless creature
couldn’t be trusted. But instead I heard a flurry of furtive whispering, as if what they were saying was too awful to speak
aloud even in the privacy of the headmistress’s office, and then
footsteps approaching the door.

I fled. I couldn’t let them know I’d heard them talking about
me or my father—my
illegitimate
father. The shame of it made
my cheeks burn and hurried my steps back to the library. When
I got there I found Helen and Daisy still seated at the table,
joined now by Sarah and Nate, drinking tea. Hadn’t everybody
had enough tea by now? I wondered irritably as I sat down.

“Did you find it?” Daisy asked.
“Find what?”
“My reticule!” she cried.
“Oh blast your silly reticule!” I snapped. “Do you think anyone cares about your letters from Mr. Appleby with everything
else that’s going on?”

Daisy’s upper lip trembled. Sarah, Helen, and Nate stared
at me. Finally Sarah patted Daisy’s hand and, looking at me
strangely, said, “We’ll look for it tomorrow. We should get to
work now. You’ve still got midterms in the morning. Miss Corey has volunteered the use of the library,” she explained to me.
“Since clearly Nathan couldn’t study in your dormitory room
and we thought that you might be besieged by questions in the
Commons Room.”