June 1817
Starecross, as it turned out, was not very much to the liking of any of the Johannites or their families save Maggie, Hastings's two young daughters, and Mrs. Goddard. Hastings felt a chill on the back of his neck all throughout tea, which they took in the library. (Segundus was certain the library admitted no stray draughts, as he had spent a great deal of time there with Lady Pole and had made quite sure that no draught or lingering chill might disturb her.) More than once, the Ainsworths lost their way in the labyrinthine hallways and were obliged to ring for Charles, the footman, to guide them to their destination. Goddard particularly disliked the rambling, sinuous architecture and the manner in which it was apt to lead him astray, even if he had his mind firmly fixed on his path. "It is as though the corridors themselves twist and turn!" he said the evening of their arrival, when they had almost settled in. "I can't imagine which architect thought this was a sensible arrangement of rooms and hallways."
Mrs. Goddard dismissed her husband's complaints with an airy wave. "The house will take you where it believes you should go."
"It ought to take me where I believe I should go," Goddard grumbled.
Maggie and Mrs. Goddard delighted in the house's idiosyncrasies and resolved to go exploring the following morning, when they were less weary from their journey. Maggie claimed to feel the magic of the place welcoming her. "Like stepping into a warm bath," she said. "Or like coming home."
After supper, Segundus bestirred himself to find the dollhouse replica of Starecross Hall for the girls' amusement. He had stowed it away in the attic while Lady Pole was in residence and had no reason to fetch it out before now. It had taken a great deal of effort to put it away in the first place, and it took even more to shift it now, as though it did not wish to be moved once it had grown accustomed to its new surroundings. The task of maneuvering it through the narrow halls of Starecross took Segundus and Charles the better part of an hour, with more than one muttered oath and a stream of well-meaning but ultimately unhelpful directions from Maggie. The effort was worth it, though, to see the girls' delight over the dollhouse.
After nearly a week of sharing a bed with Hastings, and rather longer than that sharing a bed with Childermass, Segundus thought he would be glad of some solitude during the night. That was not the case, however; though his bed at Starecross was more comfortable than the one in his room he rented from Mrs. Sparrow in York, and certainly more comfortable than the beds at the various inns he had been subjected to, he found that it was too large. It was not a bed made for one person, and it made Segundus feel quite small, as though he might sink through the mattress, through the floor, and down into the earth below.
He slept uneasily, beset by dreams of turning to mist and disappearing in the morning sun.
The following morning saw the beginning of the search for employment. After a hasty breakfast, Segundus led Maggie, Hastings, and the Goddards down the footpath to the village of Starecross. (He had offered them the use of Mrs. Lennox's carriage, but Maggie declared that she was sick to death of carriages and did not want to set foot in one until it became too cold to do otherwise.) The others remained in the hall, as Ainsworth was insistent that he should like to be a farmer, and Segundus had little hope that a tenancy would be available. He did not believe Mrs. Lennox even let any of the land around Starecross Hall.
Starecross itself was too small to truly bustle, but a number of people pursued their business through the cobblestone streets and among the grey and brown buildings. The tall, solemn trees and tumbledown walls lent the village a somber atmosphere so different from the hectic hubbub of York or even the quietly merry air of Duffield. Segundus found, as he made his way through the streets to the center of town, that he had missed Starecross and its looming trees. It was as though the village were on the brink of being swallowed up by the surrounding moor, and he did not mind if he went with it.
Segundus located a small print shop and purchased a newspaper. "I do not suppose you know of anyone in the village looking to hire?" he asked the reporter as he scanned the paper.
The reporter, a burly man with ink on his fingers and in his red-brown hair, shrugged. "Mr. Cooper, of Cooper and Moore, took out an advertisement last week for an assistant. The position may be filled by now."
"They would be the tailors?"
"They would be."
"Very good. Anyone else?"
The reporter shrugged again and turned to serve his next customer.
"I suppose we shall just have to ask around," Segundus said to his companions as he led them outside into the crisp morning air. They gathered around the old fountain in the middle of the town square. Like most fixtures in Starecross, it was well-worn and crumbling but had a sense of permanence about it, as though it had been preserved and could always crumble without ever truly falling into nothingness.
"I will inquire at Cooper and Moore," said Maggie.
"You wish to be a tailor's assistant?" Segundus asked with some surprise.
"I would not mind it." Maggie scanned the buildings nearby. "I made my own clothes before I started service. John's, too, when we were young."
"I believe there is a cobbler just down the way," said Segundus with a nod in the appropriate direction. "I recall him as rather old and with poor eyesight. Mr. Hastings, if you have any interest in remaining in the village, you would do well to look in on him."
Hastings glanced at Maggie. "The village suits well enough. I'm not one for large cities."
"Nor I," Maggie added. "It would be a very fine thing if we both found work here."
Goddard craned his neck to read the newspaper in Segundus's hands. "Are there any advertisements for employment in the paper? My wife informed me you've agreed to take her on as a pupil, should your efforts at reopening your school prove successful."
"I have," Segundus said. He passed Goddard the paper so he might look for himself. "She has talent, that much is obvious, but I had thought to test her skill level this afternoon." He turned to Mrs. Goddard. "If you are amenable, madam."
"Amenable?" She gave a bubbling little laugh. "Delighted is more like it."
"Very well, then. After we return, I shall take some time to devise a test. I have— I have never tested another person's magical ability before. I do not know the proper forms of it."
Mrs. Goddard smiled at him kindly. "I'm sure we'll muddle through." She glanced at her husband. "Any luck?"
"None," Goddard said, folding the newspaper and tucking it under his arm.
Hastings clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't look so down in the mouth. It's a small enough town that maybe taking out an advertisement wouldn't be worth it. Doesn't mean there's no jobs to be found."
"Aye," said Goddard, but his mood didn't appear to lighten.
"Mr. Goddard, have you given any more thought as to which sort of employment would suit you?"
Goddard glanced around. "I don't suppose there's a mill or a factory?"
"Indeed not," Segundus said. "Starecross is far too small and out of the way."
"I wouldn't mind being a shop assistant," said Goddard with a shrug. "For a grocer or a hardware store or the like."
Segundus thought for a few moments before deciding on a course of action. "This is not a large town. I propose that I look in on stores and shops to the west of this street, and you do the same to the east. We shall all split up and make our separate inquiries, then reconvene here in an hour."
"May I accompany you, Miss le Roy?" Mrs. Goddard asked.
Maggie raised her eyebrows. "Certainly."
Mrs. Goddard laughed. "No need for alarm. I don't wish to inquire after a position as well. I only thought to check the prices for some bolts of cloth."
"Then you are indeed most welcome," said Maggie with a smile.
Thus decided, the party went their separate ways. Segundus was fond of walking, and it was a pleasant morning for it; he did not mind that he was searching alone. The first shop-owner he spoke with, an apothecary, informed him that he did not require any more help as he had just hired his sister's lad and he had quite enough to deal with at the moment, thank you. Segundus tried to persuade the man that another hand would lighten the load, not worsen it, but the apothecary was insistent that it would not do. He was similarly unlucky at the grocer, the carpenter, the small-goods retailer, and the potter. The last of these kindly informed him that the owner of the public house might be persuaded to hire an ostler, as the previous ostler had passed on some ten years ago and the owner was finding things a bit difficult to manage.
"It's an even matter, though," the potter confided with a wink, "on whether old Williams would hire some help or if he'd prefer to just complain about it for another decade."
Segundus was not sure if Goddard would accept the position, but he thanked the potter for the tip nonetheless.
None of the other shops and stores that made up the main street of Starecross held any better news, and the few alleys and backways led mainly to tenements and farmhouses. Segundus wasted little time exploring them, instead electing to return to the town square with his small scrap of hope for Goddard.
The only one waiting for him was Mrs. Goddard. This turned out to be good news, however, as she informed him that the tailors Cooper and Moore had been delighted that a former housemaid was applying for the position, for housemaids, they declared, ought to be excellent seamstresses or risk inciting the wrath of the ladies of their households. At this moment, Mrs. Goddard supposed, Maggie was demonstrating to Messrs. Cooper and Moore the excellent quality of her sewing. She guessed Hastings was similarly detained with the cobbler.
"I have not found anything certain, madam," Segundus said to her. "But I was told that the owner of the public house might hire your husband as an ostler. Do you think he would find that work agreeable?"
"He may," Mrs. Goddard replied. "The senior Mr. Ainsworth sometimes paid him to look after the horses with our Ainsworth when we were young."
"Excellent," said Segundus. "I shall inform him of the possibility, then, unless he has found some employment better suited."
Mrs. Goddard acquiesced, and they waited for some time more. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds to drip warmth down upon Starecross. Mrs. Goddard drew a few curious looks from passers-by. Segundus was a familiarly mysterious figure, being the rarely-seen madhouse-keeper of Starecross Hall— a known unknown, as it were. But Mrs. Goddard was a perfect stranger to the people of Starecross, and thus she was even more of an anomaly. She did not seem to mind, however, which Segundus thought was an admirable quality in a female magician.
After some ten minutes had passed, Segundus was beginning to feel familiar threads of anxiety curl in his stomach. Normally, he would not mind spending the morning in the warm sun (June already! He could have sworn it was the third week of May. How time passed!), especially after so many days of rain, but there was so much he had to do. He must write to Mrs. Lennox again, and he must devise some sort of test for Mrs. Goddard, and he must make arrangements for the lodging of his guests— surely the household budget would need to be reviewed and more money allocated to the purchase of food. In stark contrast to the previous days, during which Segundus had so often felt heavy and dull, he now found himself with an overabundance of energy and nothing constructive at hand he might bend it to.
Mrs. Goddard seemed to sense his elevated mood. "If you have business to attend to at the house, please don't feel obligated to wait in town. I will pass on your message to my husband."
"Thank you, madam," Segundus said. "I do indeed have a few things I must see to."
"Go on, then." Mrs. Goddard waved an airy hand at him. "I expect we'll be back before luncheon."
Segundus bowed to her gratefully and made his way up the narrow winding lane and over the packhorse-bridge to Starecross Hall, his agitation hastening his steps. He was glad of his hurry when Charles presented him with a letter that had arrived while he was in town. The neat cursive on the front of the letter proclaimed it to be from Mrs. Eleanor Lennox of Bath.
Segundus almost nicked himself with the letter-opener, such was his haste to see his patroness's response. He scanned the pages, heart in his mouth and heedless of Charles's curious gaze. Mrs. Lennox had the most excellent manners and spent several paragraphs inquiring after Segundus's health and sending him the heartiest wishes for his well-being. Normally Segundus would have been flattered and delighted, but now he scanned over these sweetly-composed paragraphs with impatience.
Finally, he found the section most relevant to his immediate interests. Regarding the matter of these displaced men and women, the letter read, certainly they may stay for as long as is necessary to find more permanent lodgings, so long as their presence causes no unwanted attention to turn upon the school. You are an excellent judge of character, Mr. Segundus, as am I, and so I trust your discretion in this manner. It goes without saying that should they cause any trouble, they will no longer be welcome at Starecross.
"Thank you, Charles," Segundus said distractedly. "Please excuse me. I must respond to this at once." He hurried off to the library, leaving Charles bemused in his wake. There, he retrieved papers, ink, and a pen from the small writing-desk he kept and scribbled a hasty letter to Mrs. Lennox, assuring her that several of his guests had likely already found employment and one might even be his first pupil, once the school opened.
I am freshly determined, he wrote, to make a success of this venture. Not only for our sake, if you will forgive me for saying so, but for the future of magic. I believe we have a greater responsibility, perhaps even a duty, to England and to magic. As soon as I have posted this letter, I will begin devising a test to be administered to potential new students to ascertain their magical ability. I am committed to choosing only respectable students who will be a credit to the school— and I assure you that the woman I shall test this afternoon, Mrs. Lavinia Goddard, falls into both categories. I hope we are of the same mind in allowing both male and female students to apply, as I believe that magic, like any other opportunity for study and the betterment of one's mind, should not be restricted to only one sex.
He finished the letter with his best wishes for Mrs. Lennox's health and that of her dear friend Mrs. Blake. He did not immediately call for Charles to post it; instead, he sat back in his chair and thought for a time, then penned a slower, more careful letter to Mr. Honeyfoot outlining an abridged version of the events in Duffield. He did not include anything in the letter that might link the families currently living under Starecross's roof to the fire, as he did not want to commit such incriminating words to writing, though Mr. Honeyfoot, clever as he was, would likely figure it out for himself. Segundus knew he could trust Mr. Honeyfoot's discretion and only hoped that Mr. Honeyfoot trusted his judgement in turn.
More importantly, Segundus thought, he stressed his enthusiasm (while wishing he felt it half so much as he claimed to) for making another attempt at opening Starecross as a school of magic. It would be enjoyable, he thought, to study and teach magic alongside one of his oldest and dearest friends. That uplifting thought in mind, he added a few lines urging Mr. Honeyfoot to consider teaching at Starecross, once it was opened.
He read over both letters twice to make sure they said exactly what he wanted them to say, nothing more and nothing less, then called for Charles to post the letters. "And please tell Mrs. Mason that our guests are expected to stay for at least a week or two. She may inform me how much I should increase the budget," he said. He knew Mrs. Mason, the cook, would enjoy the challenge of adding up the budget herself, and he trusted her judgement.
"Does that mean you will be staying, sir?" Charles asked.
"Yes, it seems so," said Segundus. "The time seems right to make a real effort to open Starecross Academy. I can think of no better time to do it. Yes, Charles, I believe I will be staying." He paused as a thought occurred to him, then ran his hand through his hair. Undoubtedly it looked ridiculous now, but that was the least of his concerns. "Oh! I suppose that means I must write to my landlady in York. The thought had not even occurred to me. Wait but a moment, Charles."
Charles smiled patiently and waited.
Maggie was pleasantly surprised that the tailors, Messrs. Cooper and Moore, not only didn't mind that her previous employment was in service, but were actually delighted by it. At their requests, she demonstrated her skills with mending, pattern-making, stitching, and embroidery with and without beads. She almost felt bad for monopolizing the tailors' attention, but Mrs. Goddard waved off her apology.
"Not to worry!" Lavinia assured her. "I shall come back tomorrow. Perhaps I will be your first customer!"
The interview lasted almost an hour, but to Maggie's relief, the tailors seemed more interested in her practical experience instead of any references her previous employers at Duffield Hall might have provided. John had managed to convince Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, that Maggie had experienced a tragic loss and must leave immediately. It was a flimsy excuse at best, and it had not allowed Maggie the chance to request a reference. Fortunately, the tailors were more than satisfied with her skills, and after the interview was concluded, they both shook her hand in turn and requested that she return the following morning to sign her employment contract. Maggie left the tailors' with a spring in her step and a lightness in her heart that she hadn't felt since she had started lying to John.
She met up with the others in short order. Mr. Segundus had already returned to the house, but Hastings and the Goddards were waiting for her. Hastings reeked of raw leather, and he had a small, satisfied smile on his face. He informed her that he'd been well-received at the cobbler, who was as old as Mr. Segundus had said and didn't have the energy for an untrained apprentice. "Mr. Davies said that if I impress him, he might make me a full associate before the end of the year," Hastings informed the group with pride. "How'd you make out, Goddard?"
Goddard shrugged. "Old Williams who runs the inn agreed to hire me once I told him I looked after horses as a lad. Maybe Ainsworth has the right idea, leaving all the smoke and the noise behind."
"There's no farms around here, are there?" Mrs. Goddard asked. The men shook their heads. "That's too bad," she said with a sigh. "I'll miss Sarah."
The small group fell silent for a moment, and Maggie chanced a look at the others' faces. Mrs. Goddard looked pensive, almost sad; her husband had a similar expression. Hastings's face had a maudlin quality to it. She knew it meant he was brooding. Very well— it fell to her to rally the small groups' spirits and prevent them from falling to despair. Their situation was as it was, and wishing otherwise wouldn't help anybody. She clapped her hands in front of her. "It seems we have all landed on our feet," she said. "Now that we have secured employment for ourselves, we must help the Ainsworths find a good tenancy, and then we shall all be settled. Starecross seems like a pleasant village, does it not? I think I shall be happy here."
Hastings, hopefully sensing her intent, nodded his agreement. "As do I."
Goddard cuffed him on the shoulder. "You're never happy unless you're stirring up trouble," he said with a grin.
"Yes, and have you ever seen a village so in need of a bit of trouble?" Hastings said, grinning back.
Goddard laughed, the sound startlingly loud in the tiny crumbling city square. A few passersby shot him looks, but none of the group paid them any attention. "What a fine mess!" he cried, and laughed some more. His chortles set off Mrs. Goddard as well, and they had to clutch at each other for support. Maggie grinned despite herself. Their laughter continued for almost a minute while Maggie and Hastings waved at scandalized onlookers.
"Forgive me," Mrs. Goddard said as she recovered, mopping her eyes. "I haven't laughed like that in ages."
"No, nor I," said Goddard. "I'd nearly forgotten what it felt like."
"I think we will be alright," Maggie said. "We will put our lives back together here, and we will be happy."
Hastings took her hand. "What more could we ask for?"
Maggie'd had almost a week to harden her heart against Milly's betrayal, and she had almost done it. The cold burn, the sinking feeling, had, for the most part, faded into a dull ache somewhere behind her sternum, like a two-day-old bruise. Every now and then she would idly think of something she ought to mention to Milly— a clever bit of dialogue in one of the novels she had brought from Duffield Hall to keep her occupied on the journey, or a snide comment on a passing gentleman's moustache that was sure to provoke a fit of giggles. When that happened, it was as though she had bumped the bruise against a sharp corner, and there was several minutes of painful throbbing that gradually subsided as Maggie reminded herself once again that Milly was the traitor, Milly was the one who should be pained and guilty, not her.
Hastings was no help. "I didn't like her from the start," he growled after luncheon, after they had both secured employment and returned to Starecross Hall. It was one of their few, rare moments alone; they had insisted on doing the washing-up, as Starecross's meager staff weren't equipped for so many visitors. Mr. Segundus had tried to wash the dishes himself, saying that they were guests in his home and would not be called upon to perform the tasks of servants, but Maggie had reminded him rather sternly that she herself had been a servant up until recently, and Hastings was accustomed to washing his own dishes, and it really was the least they could do in return for his hospitality. He'd had the grace not to look relieved, and he scurried upstairs, no doubt to begin Lavinia Goddard's magic lessons.
"I knew she was lying to us. It was too much of a coincidence," Hastings added. He clattered the dishes with unnecessary force in the sink, and Maggie sighed.
"I don't want to talk about this right now," she said. "It's no good to go over and over it like a hen pecking at a stone."
"I know," he said. "I can't help it. It keeps going round in my head. What if I had looked into her past as I ought've? What if she had never heard of our meetings?"
"You cannot blame me," said Maggie, stung.
"I do not."
"You would have burned down the mill anyway."
Hastings closed his eyes, and Maggie was struck by how deep the lines of exhaustion ran. Perhaps the journey had been harder on her dear stubborn Hastings than she had realized. "Yes," he said, "I would have. I still don't regret it, you know, and even if I had known what it would cost, I'd have done it."
"I know." Maggie's voice came out as a whisper. "Can you ever forgive me for not standing with you when the time came?"
"There is nothing to forgive, my dear." Hastings dried his hands on a towel and pulled her into a tight embrace. It was hardly proper, but Maggie supposed there were more important things than propriety. His next words came out muffled against the side of her head where her hair was pulled back into a bun. "You did as you thought was right, as did I. You stand with me now, when it matters. Nothing Milly Greene has done can change that."
Maggie pressed her face into the crook of his shoulder and allowed herself to be held. "Then let us speak no more of it. It is done, and we must live forever with the consequences. I cannot bear to even think her name."
Hastings, perhaps wisely, stayed quiet.
Maggie's first day as a tailor's assistant went well, as did Hastings's work with the cobbler. Goddard seemed satisfied enough with his position at the inn, and his wife was elated to be the first official pupil of Starecross Academy of Magic. The Ainsworths left to seek a tenancy in the country around York and returned the next day with wind-chapped faces and hopeful news. They had all pulled through about as well as they might have expected to, Maggie thought. She knew that she would likely always be looking over her shoulder, wary of any rumor that might link her or the other Johannites to the sordid affair in Duffield, but she was used to that. She knew how to keep her ear to the ground, and if necessary, she would be able to forewarn the others if the law located their trail.
Indeed, after a few more days had passed and the families seemed to settle in to their new lives, prospects were looking bright enough for Maggie and her friends that she was able to spare no small amount of concern for Mr. Segundus. John has used that man ill, an' no mistake, she thought darkly to herself more than once. She saw how he did his best to match Mrs. Goddard's enthusiasm, and nobody could complain that he was anything less than the most attentive and accommodating host. Even so, she sometimes caught him staring listlessly when he meant to be writing lesson plans or taking inventory, and his smiles, as ready as ever, always had an undercurrent of melancholy.
Maggie resolved to give her brother an earful when she next saw him. He would make things right with Mr. Segundus as best as he was able. The poor man deserved more than a hasty explanation before fleeing halfway across the country to avoid the law, even if John did not want to resume their previous relationship. And if he did, well, all the better. Of course, the problem might lie in convincing Mr. Segundus to take up with John again, but she would cross that bridge if needed. It was only fair for Maggie to involve herself, she reasoned. After all, her brother had meddled in her affairs, which gave her the right to meddle in his. In this, at least, she had the support of her dear Hastings.
"I suppose," he said dubiously after she informed him of her plans over breakfast. "There is a sort of poetic justice to it."
"Oh, don't let's talk about justice again," Maggie replied. "I am sick of the topic. I have heard and said enough about justice to last me a lifetime. This isn't about justice. It is about John fixing the mess he made with Mr. Segundus."
There was no concern of the man in question overhearing; he was in his study with Mrs. Goddard, no doubt poring over some book or magical publication, and as the Ainsworths were busy packing their meager belongings and Mr. Goddard's schedule afforded him late nights and late mornings, Maggie and Hastings were quite alone.
Hastings smiled at her across the table. "I'd warn you not to get involved, my dear, but I see that your mind is already made up."
"Quite right."
"In that case," Hastings continued, "all I will say is to use caution. You do not know what sort of reaction you might provoke."
Maggie raised an eyebrow at the irony, and he shrugged in acknowledgement. "Have no fear, sir," she said. "I have a plan."
"Ah," said Hastings, and he took a sip of tea to cover his expression of faint alarm.
In truth, Maggie's plan was little more than a vague idea of confronting John, explaining to him in detail exactly where and how he went wrong, and forcing from him a promise to fix it by the end of the day. As far as plans went, it wasn't watertight. Maggie was not quite sure what she would do if John decided to stand up and leave mid-lecture, and she didn't think she would have any means of recourse if he used magic to escape. (Surely there must be spells to assist one in escaping from conversations one did not want to have, and if none existed, Maggie thought one ought to be invented, though she did hope John wouldn't think to use it against her.)
Maggie meant to come up with a more solid plan on the walk into town for work. She had several ideas, but none of them were quite as refined as she should like. She was very glad to be back in the North, as nothing cleared her mind like a nice brisk walk across the moor. She took a deep breath as she passed through the gate and set off down the lane, and the fresh air and the scent of heather quieted her buzzing thoughts. She turned her focus to her plans for assisting her brother in fixing his many grievous errors. However, her plotting was forestalled as she caught sight of the very man of her fixation: John Childermass himself atop a dark horse, riding determinedly up the lane to Starecross Hall.