Modern Magick

The Fifth Britain: 18

Mr. Patel! carolled Millie. You are just in time!

We were back at the farmhouse, ushered through a door so cunningly disguised in all that pearly light that I hadn't noticed it. At least twenty people were already thronging Millie's parlour, and more were arriving all the time, attended by flashes of soft light and bursts of ambrosial music.

'For what?' said Jay, looking about in confusion.

Millie's response was delivered in the form of a burst of song. A Captain Bold in Halifax, who Dwelt in Country Quarters, seduced a maid who Hanged Herself one morning in her garters! She accompanied herself on an invisible piano — no, I take that back, it was not invisible. Tucked into one corner of the cosy country parlour was a shabby spinet, the keys of which were cheerily playing themselves.

'Oh, no,' said Jay, briefly closing his eyes.

I judged it was not the first time Millie had taken to song.

His Wicked conscience smited him, he lost his stomach daily! He took to drinking turpentine, and thought upon Miss Bailey. Ohhhhh, Miss Bailey! Unfortunate Miss Bailey!

'Millie...' sighed Jay. 'Please? Stop?'

'It is probably her first public performance,' I murmured to Jay. 'An important moment in any genteel young lady's life. Let her exhibit.'

It cost me something to say as much, for Millie's grasp of tone, melody and key were not as strong as we might all have liked.

Jay sagged against the wall in despair.

Millie sang on.

...A Ghost stepped up to his bedside, and said, 'Behold! Miss Bailey!' As these words floated through the house, I discovered the Baron at my elbow. He raised a quizzical brow at me, and spared a glance for the dejected figure of Jay slumped near the door. 'Stopped for a concert?'

'Absolutely not,' said Jay, coming alive again in a rush. He was out the door and gone in an instant.

We followed.

...and Parson Briggs won't bury me, though I'm a dead Miss Bailey! sang Millie as we pushed our way through the growing throng to the front door.

Which, predictably enough, did not open, though Jay tugged upon it with all his weight. He banged a fist upon it and bellowed: 'MILLIE!'

The ghostly singing stopped. You cannot leave yet! There is still another verse!

'Sing it to me later.'

But— but—

'You can sing me the whole song again later if you like, just let us out.'

I admired his spirit of self-sacrifice.

The front door creaked disconsolately open. Jay dashed through it, followed by the Baron and me, and it slammed shut upon the rest of the hapless guests with a ringing crash. Some few of them had displayed a keen desire to follow our fine example in beating a hasty retreat, but it was not to be.

I spared them a brief moment's sympathy.

'It's lucky she likes you,' I observed as we ran back down the street to the cliff-top. A glimpse of Ashdown Castle was enough to recall me to my purpose. Someone was injured down there, someone from the Society. I hoped Rob was with them. My evening heels were killing me by then, so I took them off, chucked them aside and hastened down the cliff-path in bare feet, making it to the bottom with only one or two small, stinging cuts to show for it. I envied the Baron a little, for not only did he cut a dash in his dark suit and white shirt but he had practical shoes to go along with them.