Miss Landon and Aubranael (Tales of Aylfenhame Book 1) (19 page)

Aubranael swallowed.

‘Hi!’ yelled the troll, as soon as he was close enough to be heard. ‘Hi! If it isn’t the so-called
Mr. Stanton!
’

If Aubranael had been entertaining any hopes that Mr. Balligumph had yet to hear from Pharagora, those hopes instantly evaporated. He stood a little straighter, took a deep breath to quell the fresh surge of panic in his gut, and straightened his shoulders.

‘I am called that, sometimes,’ he said calmly.

Balligumph kept on coming. For a moment Aubranael suffered a paralysing certainty that the troll meant to crash straight
through
him and into the parsonage, perhaps taking poor Mary with him along the way. Instead, he came to a thundering halt a mere few feet away from Aubranael, and stood glaring down at him, his huge chest heaving with exertion.

‘And?’ the troll demanded. ‘What have ye to say for yerself?’

‘On which topic?’ Aubranael replied.

Balligumph’s great blue eyes blazed anew, and he actually spluttered with indignation. ‘On—on the topic o’ Miss Landon, and yer
friend
,’ he bellowed. ‘What have the two o’ ye been gettin’ up to wi’ Miss Sophy?!’

‘Nothing at all, I assure you,’ said Aubranael.

‘Ha!’ roared the troll. ‘I like that! “Nothin’ at all”, says he, as cool as can be! But it will not do. There’s more to
ye
than meets the eye, that’s fer certain; and do ye deny that yer friend
Mr. Green
is a great deal more than he’s pretendin’?’

Aubranael held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. ‘I deny nothing,’ he said in a low voice. ‘But I never meant any harm to Miss Landon—nor did Grunewald. You must believe me.’

Balligumph glared down at him. ‘I don’t
have
t’ believe anythin’ ye’ve got t’ say.’

‘I know, but it is the truth! If you will give me a moment to speak, I will explain.’

The troll shook his enormous head and actually stamped one of his enormous feet, sending a tremor through the ground. Aubranael winced and hastily backed away, expecting a blow to fall upon him at any moment.

Before he could collect his scattered wits and find some way to defend himself, however, Mary waded into the fray. ‘See here!’ she shouted at Balligumph. ‘
I’ll
tell you what won’t do! It won’t do to run about terrorising the townfolk, just because you’re bigger’n everyone else!’ She actually shook a fist at the troll—a pitiful gesture, given the huge discrepancy in size between the two of them—but the fervour in her voice apparently made some impression, for Balligumph looked taken aback. ‘That’s better,’ Mary said firmly. She adopted an aggressive, no-nonsense stance: feet planted wide apart, hands upon her hips, and glared up at the troll. ‘It’s disrespectful to Miss Sophy, carryin’ on like this on her own doorstep! You ought to be ashamed.’

To Aubranael’s mild disbelief, Balligumph actually did look ashamed. He backed off a step or two, then took off his hat and held it in his two hands in an unquestionably remorseful gesture. ‘Sorry, Mary,’ he said contritely. ‘Ye’re right at that. I meant no harm.’

Mary nodded crisply and relaxed her battle stance. ‘Very good,’ she said. ‘Carry on.’

She returned into the house, though she continued to hover near the door—probably to keep an eye on Balligumph, Aubranael supposed. Relief mixed with anxiety and more than a little panic weakened his knees, and with a deep sigh he sat down upon the parsonage step.

Balligumph stared down at him, all the wind taken out of his sails. Perhaps Aubranael’s obvious dejection softened him a little further, for he said kindly enough: ‘Ah well, lad, ye cannot blame me fer bein’ concerned, can ye? What is it that ye’re doin’ in these parts? Tell me everythin’ that ye can.’

So Aubranael began at the very beginning, from the day that Miss Landon had entered his life in Grenlowe, and spared no detail. The tale took some time, but he resisted the temptation to hurry and skip over things. Balligumph’s obvious concern for Miss Landon seemed to warrant a thorough and honest narration (quite apart from his terrific size), and besides, he had nothing else to do but wait for Sophy to return.

Balligumph was kind enough to refrain from interrupting. He said nothing at all until Aubranael had finally finished, after which he spent a few minutes in silent reflection.

‘Well then,’ he said at last. ‘The next thing t’ ask is: where’s Miss Sophy got to?’

Aubranael shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. ‘If you have no idea, I am sure I do not.’

Balligumph directed an enquiring glance at Mary, but she had no more information to give.

‘I’m afraid she’s gone through, then,’ said the troll.

‘Gone through?’ repeated Aubranael. ‘To where? You mean Aylfenhame?’

‘Aye. She came to me a day or two ago, wantin’ the means to return. I gave it her, naturally!’ He eyed Aubranael suspiciously and said: ‘She spoke o’ havin’ met someone in Grenlowe. I got the distinct impression she was off in hopes o’ seein’ him again. I suppose she meant
you.
’

‘Did she?’ Aubranael said, his pulse quickening. She had liked him well enough to go in search of him again? This was news, and very welcome news at that; but she would not find him in Aylfenhame, of course, and he still had a few days left before Hidenory’s enchantment wore off.

Curse it all! What had
possessed
him to engage in this absurd masquerade? If he had only had the patience to wait, Miss Landon would have come to him!

‘I had better go after her,’ he said, jumping resolutely to his feet.

‘Had ye?’ Balligumph said. ‘How do ye plan to find her?’

Aubranael blinked up at him. ‘I… well, if she is looking for me, perhaps she will return to the places we visited together before?’

‘That she may,’ the troll conceded. ‘An’ when she doesn’t find ye there, what then? Will she stand about an’ wait for ye, day after day? No, not Miss Sophy! She has other business there.’

‘What other business?’

Balligumph launched into a tale of his own, regarding Sophy’s stitchery and her hopes for a shop in Grenlowe. A shop! In Grenlowe! She actually intended to settle in Aylfenhame, for good! This news electrified Aubranael, flooding him with a mixture of unlooked-for hope and renewed remorse and self-recrimination. The more he learned about Miss Landon, the more his masquerade seemed wrong-headed and ill-advised.

No matter. It was too late to regret what he had done: he had to focus on how to set matters to rights.

‘Then I
must
go after her,’ he declared when Balligumph had finished talking. ‘She will need help, perhaps, and guidance.’

‘I have arranged fer both,’ said the troll bluntly.

‘It cannot hurt for her to have
more
help and guidance,’ Aubranael said stubbornly. ‘Especially if she is looking for me!’

‘Aye, an’ so I’ll ask ye again: how are ye goin’ to find her?’

Aubranael opened his mouth, and closed it again, stumped. Balligumph had a point, damn him! ‘But I cannot simply sit here and await her return!’ he protested. ‘Who knows how long she might be?’

‘Not all that long, I reckon,’ Balligumph said confidently. ‘She has business still to finish in Tilby.’

Aubranael pondered the question of simply
waiting
for Sophy’s return. He was sorely tempted to ignore Balligumph’s advice and charge after her; but the situation was complicated enough. Miss Landon had gone in search of Aubranael, never knowing that she had left him behind in the person of Mr. Stanton; if he followed her and failed to find her, she would return to Tilby only to find that Mr. Stanton had also left. They could go on forever, narrowly missing each other, and the task of revealing his duplicity would fall to someone else—Balligumph, or Pharagora, or even Mary—and she would probably never forgive him.

As much as it tried his patience, he had to trust that she would soon return, and wait for her in Tilby.

‘I will wait,’ he said heavily. ‘Though it is hard.’

Balligumph clapped him on the shoulder, knocking all the wind clean out of him. ‘Tis the wisest course,’ he nodded. ‘Ye can keep me company at the bridge, an’ tell me all about yerself and yer plans to marry my Sophy.’

Aubranael was relieved to note a gleam of approval in the troll’s eyes as he said this, though there was an edge to his voice that suggested Aubranael still had some talking to do.

Very well, so be it. If he could win over Miss Landon’s self-appointed guardian, perhaps the troll would be able to help him in winning over Miss Landon herself.

It gave him something to do for the next two days, anyway.

Chapter Twelve

Sophy’s second journey through to Aylfenhame was considerably less pleasant than the first.

Previously, the crossing-over had been as simple as walking. A mere few steps had carried her over the invisible threshold between the worlds, and a mere touch of the gates had returned her to England.

The process was no more complicated, the second time; she had dropped the crystal Balli had given her, it had turned into a will-o-the-wyke and she had followed along, with none of the doubts that had assailed her before.

She had not been expecting pain, or the sensation of being
squeezed,
as though she was attempting to fit herself between two very solid gateposts placed a bare few inches apart. When she had emerged, panting and shocked, on the other side, she expected to find her clothing in shreds and her skin in ribbons. To her surprise and relief, however, she was intact; the sensations had
felt
physical, but perhaps they were not.

Now she understood Balli’s previous insistence that she travel on Beltane. There were days when the barriers between Aylfenhame and Sophy’s world disappeared, she concluded, and travellers did well to time their visits accordingly.

She wondered when the next such day would be.

She had dropped the crystal sphere directly outside of her house, this time, so she emerged into Aylfenhame in a different place, too. For a moment, she stood confused, taking in the rows of jumbled, mismatched cottages without recognising anything. But, there: a shop sign announcing a cobbler’s establishment caught her eye. The sign depicted a pair of glittering shoes, one clear and apparently made of glass, the other deep black as if wrought from obsidian. She recognised that sign. And there was the funny, twisted tree with purple bark and silver leaves; she had passed it with Aubranael.

She was in Grenlowe, then, some distance from where she had first stepped through—and some distance from the place where she had met Aubranael, too. But that was all right.

Having established her whereabouts, she was keen to get started; but how? Where would she go? Balligumph had promised her a guide, but the streets were largely empty, and those who did pass by seemed in a great hurry and did not stop. She waited for a little while, watching as a succession of gnomes, hobs, trows, dryads, goblins, brownies, Ayliri and even an occasional ogre stepped briskly past. Where was Balligumph’s promised guardian?

The wind blew, a mighty gust that carried with it the scent of flowers and the distant sounds of bells. It also brought a quantity of dust, some of which settled in Sophy’s eye. She devoted herself to removing it, with many a flutter of her eyelids and a great deal of moisture seeping from her eye. When at last her sight was restored to her, she noticed a newcomer.

Before her sat an enormous, purple-furred cat. She recognised it at once as Aubranael’s mischievous companion, and, delighted, she stepped forward with a joyous greeting on her lips.

‘Felebre, I believe?’ she said with a sunny smile. But the cat did not react, and her certainty faltered. It
looked
exactly like Aubranael’s companion, but what did that signify? If there was one purple cat in Aylfenhame, of course there were probably more.

‘Is it not Felebre? I am sorry,’ she said. ‘Even if you are Felebre, you may not remember me. I spent precious little time with Mr. Aubranael, after all.’

The cat stared at her with unblinking eyes.

It occurred to her that this may be Balli’s promised guide, whether or not it was the same cat she had met before. ‘Are you a friend of Mr. Balligumph’s?’ she asked. ‘He did promise me a guide and helper, and perhaps you are it.’

Still the cat did not react, but nor did it leave. It sat, staring at her with wide golden eyes, and Sophy began to feel unnerved.

‘Very well; my mistake on both counts,’ she said. ‘I am sorry to have bothered you.’ She made the cat a curtsey—feeling just a little silly as she did so—and made to leave.

But as soon as she showed signs of wanting to wander off, the cat’s manner changed completely. It—she?—got in Sophy’s way, blocking her departure. To Sophy’s surprise, the cat bumped her head against Sophy’s waist and rubbed her ears over her gown. The gesture seemed friendly—affectionate, even—and Sophy was instantly charmed.

‘Well, then!’ she laughed. ‘Perhaps you are Felebre after all. I hope you will not mind if I address you by that name, at least until I am given a different one.’

The cat made no objection.

‘Very well, and are you here to assist me?’ Sophy enquired.

Felebre gave a great purr and, with one more affectionate bump against Sophy’s hip, she turned and began to walk away. She looked back at Sophy, twitched her tail meaningfully and took another few steps.