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  “Charles knows me altogether too well,” he said.

  Garrick made a slight face. “And is it your fault that fish bit on an empty hook?” he demanded.

  “I cannot tell a lie, of course it is,” Peter responded cheerfully. “I’m a Water Master.”

  Although the girl did not make an appearance in the first two days, Peter didn’t consider the time a loss. He was busy making himself familiar with the woods; although Water Elementals were not as useful as Earth or Air would have been in helping him find the spots where people set their snares, they were perfectly happy to tell him what those other Elementals were gossiping about. The Earth and Air Elementals had no problem with divulging where snares and traps were and where men lay in wait to take animals and birds with guns. And the Water Elementals were second to none at finding the weir nets and fish traps. Charles had given Peter a rough count of how much poaching was going to be allowed; Peter monitored the snares and traps for a couple of days, estimated the populations of fish and game, and removed about a third of the traps. He didn’t break them or throw them up into a tree as some gamekeepers might. Instead, he piled them all neatly beside one he had not removed, as an object lesson. “See, you know better than that,” was the unspoken message. “Don’t be greedy.”

  The poachers took the hint, and the number of traps dropped by exactly a third.

  Meanwhile, Peter was making discreet inquiries among the Elementals about the girl as well. And the first thing he discovered was that the Earth Elementals were utterly besotted with her.

  It was partly the fact of sheer novelty. She was the first person they had encountered in decades who was not from the Branwell lands or the Kerridge bloodline. Earth Elementals were highly territorial and rarely left their patches of ground unless they were driven out by something unpleasant or dangerous. So it was only natural that they wouldn’t have encountered this girl before. And it was natural for them to be very welcoming to an Earth mage new to them. Fire Elementals were arrogant and needed to be wooed, Water were retiring and shy and needed to be reassured, Air flighty and absentminded and needed to be charmed with something interesting, but Earth Elementals could always be counted on to welcome a new magician of their stamp in their lands. The stronger the mage—so long as he or she was of the cooperative and not the coercing kind—the greater the welcome. While Earth Elementals were happy to contribute to the welfare and health of the land, they didn’t have the ability to apply power the way a mortal magician did. The bond of mage and Elemental was always a cooperative one when the magic was used properly.

  What was not usual was the degree of warmth with which they responded to her. That could only mean that she, in her turn, was a warmhearted, considerate, and thoughtful steward of her power.

  The wild things in particular were entirely enchanted with her. A small gang of fauns even came stomping aggressively up to him as he was patrolling the forest to demand that he not “be a-troubling of her.” For a wild Earth Elemental to approach a Water Master with such a demand was almost unheard of. He was both taken aback and utterly charmed. What a remarkable young woman she must be to have earned such loyalty in such a short time!

  Evidently they had gotten wind of the questions he was asking about her. He was able to reassure them that he meant no harm, and they vanished back into the undergrowth apparently satisfied. But he had to wonder—why would they be so perturbed that someone had been asking questions about her?

  And—besides his—just what questions were being asked, and by whom? That part—that was potentially very troubling.

  Susanne was alone in the dairy and would be for the next several days. Polly had leave to go tend her sister, who had just had a baby a day ago. “If I’d thought tha’ couldn’t manage—” she had begun, before Susanne waved her off.

  “Tha’s got leave, and tha’rt takin’ one of tha’ holidays for it. I can manage, and Cook’s promised me little Caro for help,” Susanne had replied. Now, she knew, and she suspected that Polly knew, that Caro hadn’t a bit of magic in her. And for one moment, Polly had looked concerned.

  But then her expression cleared, as if she had suddenly thought of something. “Oh, aye, tha’ll have no trouble with Caro, she’s a sturdy bit of a thing. Take care she doesn’t gorge herself on cream, though. She’ll make herself sick.”

  “I won’t—I mean, I will,” Susanne had laughed.

  Everything had gone well. And she had kept an eye on Caro, who learned very quickly that the new dairymaid was even harder to gull than the old. Now Caro was scrubbing out the milk-pans, while Susanne cleaned the churns—a task that required magic, so far as Susanne was concerned, because the least little bit of old milk or cream or butter in them could easily spoil and turn the entire churn sour the next time you used it.

  So Polly—and now Susanne—used a little spell that allowed them to “lift” the offending dribs and drabs to the surface of the water and keep them there. She was concentrating so hard on the task that she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.

  “Aha,” said a satisfied voice behind her. “Caught thee out, then, didn’ I?”

  She whirled. It was Cook, who planted her feet wide and nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “I don’t know what—” Susanne began, trying to suppress her spell and failing entirely.

  “Oh, don’t come all coy with me. That there’s magic,” Cook said, pointing to the churn. “Earth magic. I knowed tha’ could see farther into a millstone than most!” She beamed at Susanne, stilling any fears that she might have somehow broken an unwritten rule. “So, learned a bit did thee?”

  Susanne nodded. She was not about to let on just how much she knew.

  “’Tis the same with a good three or four of us, an’ the rest know all about us,” Cook told her. “Don’t go hidin’ that light ’neath a bushel. This be a place where we use ev’ry gift the Good Lord give us. We know that there Bible verse ain’t ‘tha’ shalt not suffer a witch t’live,’ it’s ‘tha’ shalt not suffer a poisoner t’ live.’ We know what we know, and we knowed it for—well, goin’ back to far beyond when King Alfred burned them cakes.”

  Susanne sighed with relief. This sounded just like the things Robin used to tell her, and the Coveners, about the Old Ways and the Old Days.

  “There’s things as need more than just one, an’ when that happens, we huddle t’gether an’ fix ’em,” the Cook finished. “I’ll be expectin’ thee t’ join now, eh?”

  She swallowed, and nodded. “Yes, Cook,” she said

  “Thee needn’t think this’s somethin’ hidden, leastwise not from anyone within the walls. Marsters an’ the Missus all knows, an’ more than knows, they has the power too an’ uses it.” Cook smiled at her little start, but how was Cook to know that this fact hadn’t startled her so much as given her a little shock of happiness? The Kerridges themselves had the magic? So Charles was an Earth mage, too! Oh, that was good! Maybe having magic would make a difference in her stature! It meant she just might be able to convince him and his parents that she was a very valuable asset indeed. Maybe more than just a “valuable asset.”

  Which would mean she might have a chance with Charles.

  “Now, then, let’s see what tha’ can do,” Cook continued. “I know what Polly can, so let’s see if tha’ can better her.”

  Susanne swiftly finished the rest of the scrubbing-up, with Caro’s help. Then she went into the butter room and cast a spell of her own over the waiting pats. It was a very good spell, sound, economical, and with no holes in it. She was rather proud of it, actually. This butter would stay sweet and would remain edible and wholesome indefinitely. Polly’s could only hold it sweet for about a fortnight.

  Cook nodded at that as well. “’Tis clear there be no one here that can teach thee,” Cook said thoughtfully. “Eh! That’s not so bad. And now I’ve drug thee into the light, thee can use tha’ magic whenever tha’ chooses. I’ll be makin’ sure the rest all know what tha’ can do and that tha�
�� can be trusted to do it without interference or overlookin’.”

  She nodded with relief. Cook was right. One less thing to be worried about.

  “Is it all right if I leave out a saucer of cream and a bit o’ bread at night?” she asked, tentatively. “Not that I’d leave a mess for a brownie t’ be cleanin’ out of on purpose! That’d drive ’em away, sure as sure, bein’ lazy! But just to know if I miss something, they’ll be findin’ it, and catchin’ it afore it makes a deal of trouble, would be a great ease of my mind.”

  Cook laughed. “Lor’ love tha’, what dost tha’ think I do, last thing? ’Tis a great ease of the mind, goin’ up to bed knowin’ that it’ll all be perfect in the morn even if we’re nearly done to death by one of the big to-dos. ’Tis clear thee knows what’ll happen if brownie thinks tha’rt shirkin’.”

  Susanne made a face. “Oh, aye. Not just drive ’em away. They might let in somethin’ that’d make mischief, faun or the like. An’’twould serve me right.”

  “Well, then, we’re all of a mind. Aye, Caro?” Cook asked.

  Caro nodded, her eyes big and round. “Wish’t I had th’ magic,” she whispered wistfully.

  “Eh, ’tis as much work as usin’ hands, honey,” Cook told her. “Harder, belike. Nothin’ comes without strivin’, just because tha’ don’t see hands workin’, doesn’t mean hard work ain’t bein’ done.”

  Susanne nodded. “Eh!” she told the girl. “Think on’t. Ain’t it hard, when tha’rt puzzlin’ out a problem! Don’t it make tha’ weary?”

  Caro’s brows furrowed, and finally she nodded.

  “Tis the same,” Susanne told her firmly. “Bigger the magic, wearier it makes tha’.”

  “True, that. Now, I tell thee, tha’rt not due for a half-day afore harvest, but tha’rt a good child,” Cook continued, “and Polly’s another, and she’ll come back fagged near to death by that sistern of hers, an’ it won’t be no holiday for her. So. When Polly comes back, here’s what. I’ll give thee both a half-holiday together. I’ll get leave for it from Missus easy enough. There’s butter and cheese enough put by, Missus Elizabeth is fair fond of givin’ milk t’poor mothers, an’ we can do that for the day if tha’ cannot find a way to keep it back. I hear there might be strawberries in yon woods,” she finished, with a twinkle in her eye. “And a bit of cream might be saved back to go with ’em.”

  Susanne smiled with her whole face. This was altogether unexpected, but completely welcome. This would give her a chance to become more familiar with the Branwell lands and all the creatures in them—and she wouldn’t have to hide that from Polly, either!

  But more than that . . . with a half day off, she just might be able to get more than a glimpse of Charles Kerridge.

  11

  “A HALF-DAY!” Polly exclaimed again, with delight, as she and Susanne pulled on their uniforms. “Eh, who could’ve thought it! Missus Elizabeth, she be an angel! An’ Cook’s another!”

  Susanne laughed at that, but she actually felt somewhat in agreement. “Well, I think we ought to be working twice as hard this morning as ever was.”

  “Oh, aye,” Polly agreed, her eyes sparkling. “Now that thee be usin’ tha’ magic open-like.” She sighed a little wistfully. “Tha’rt so much better nor me.”

  Susanne just shrugged as she buttoned up the rear of Polly’s apron for her, then turned so Polly could do hers. “An’ I’ll never make as good a cheese as thee,” she pointed out. “Nor be able to tell how ripe ’tis without tasting. But we can leave naught for Caro to do but pour the pans for rising cream.”

  “Even th’ tweenie canna ruin that,” Polly agreed. “There! All done!”

  They dashed out of their room, scampered to the kitchen for breakfast, ate quickly, and headed for the dairy. And they had the satisfaction of leaving it at lunchtime with every container that was not actively holding something scrubbed and scalded, the milk-pans for the afternoon laid out, and a little spell on the pans with rising cream to hold them until morning. It would mean more work—but not that much more. Certainly about the same as weaning time when the calves were no longer allowed to suckle.

  When they arrived at the kitchen, they found another wonderful surprise waiting for them. A luncheon basket packed for the both of them, with the rare treat of two bottles of lemonade, and two empty baskets.

  “Think I don’t know what two girls will be doin’ in woods of a June afternoon?” Cook said, her eyes twinkling. “Just be bringin’ back lunch basket more full than empty. I’m partial to a wild berry, but eh! My days of scramblin’ about on hands and knees are gone.”

  Susanne shared the burden of the laden lunch basket with Polly and felt absurdly as if she were just a happy child again as they strolled out of the warm sun and into the park and then the untamed woodlands. “Have you got a thought of where to go?” she asked. The air was rich with forest scents, and the birds seemed to be everywhere. More than birds, too, unless she was very much mistaken.

  “I know one patch. Never had a whole half-day t’ pick afore,” Polly replied. “Might be we’ll pick that patch clean.”

  “Then let’s go there, pick enough to have with nuncheon, an’ be huntin’ after,” Susanne suggested. She thought a moment. This would be the first time since she had arrived at Branwell Hall that she would be outside, in wild lands, with food . . . and that combination usually conjured a bit of an infestation of fauns. “Ah . . . we might get . . . creatures. Wantin’ to share.”

  “What? Birds?” Polly glanced at her oddly. “Eh-h-h. Tha’ means sommat else.” Her eyes got round. “I been wantin’ t’ see th’ like for ever so long! Oh, will we? Tha’ think? I bain’t ever seen such with me own eyes, but I know they be about. Can feel ’em, sometimes.”

  “We’ll see,” Susanne temporized. But—she could feel them too, watching her from the woods, knowing what she was. Eyeing that heavy basket and feeling sure that she should, properly, be sharing. Wondering if they could hoodwink her and thieve some of it away, then eyeing her again and thinking it might be too risky even for one of them.

  She felt other eyes too, not fauns, something greater, regarding her thoughtfully. It wasn’t something she recognized. But it wasn’t dark like a boggart or inimical like a redcap. Elementals of another element entirely? Was that even possible? Would they take notice of her?

  And just as they came to Polly’s berry patch, she thought she sensed another presence, familiar as her old shoe, and welcome. Would he come out with a stranger there?

  Oh, how she hoped so! She longed to see him so much!

  There was no telling. Robin would do what Robin would do, but it made her blissfully happy to know her oldest friend had found her at last.

  Knowing the ways of fauns, she kept the luncheon basket right by her side while she and Polly gathered the tiny, honey-sweet berries from under their leaves. They were no larger than the tip of her littlest finger, but as she popped a few into her mouth, they burst on her tongue with such intense flavor that there was no comparison with garden berries.

  They found a sunny bit of meadow nearby, spread out the old blanket that had been folded on top of the luncheon basket, and laid out the feast. And a feast it was! There had been chicken on the gentry’s table last night, and here it was, cold, reappearing for their lunch. And there were cress-and-butter sandwiches, simple jam sandwiches, and some of their own cheese, and lovely tart pickles that made your eyes water. There was a bottle each of fizzy lemonade, something neither of them ever saw outside of a Fair Day, though Master Charles was partial to it and there were stocks of it sent from the grocer regularly in summer. Susanne knew about this partiality, as she had obsessively learned everything she could about Charles Kerridge, and the notion she might be drinking one of his lemonades made her simultaneously giddy and guilty. She didn’t want to deprive him of his treat—but he had as much as ever he could want. Surely he couldn’t possibly miss one. Surely Cook would not have given them the bottles if Master would be deprived in the
least.

  There were scones too, and a pot of their own cream, ready for the berries, and thick slices of plain cake. And as she had expected, the moment the food came out, there was a circle of eyes on them.

  The first to appear, though, were the birds; they were bold enough to come right to the edge of the blanket and stare, waiting for crumbs. Since there was more than enough for four girls to have feasted on, the birds got their crumbs without needing to beg for long.

  But soon after the birds were pecking at their own feast, Susanne heard the rustlings in the grass that meant something was creeping up on them, and she raised her head from her chicken wing, to announce to the air “Tha’ might as well stop skulking. We know tha’rt there.”

  A little horned head popped up from behind a bush. Big round eyes stared at her. Beside her, Polly gasped, but she didn’t move. When Susanne looked at her out of the corner of her eye—because with a sticky-fingered lot of fauns around, you didn’t take your eyes off them—her expression was a mix of delight and disbelief.

  “Soil share,” she told the faun. “But tha’ must be patient an’ good, an’ if tha’ steals, there’ll be no sharin’.” She knew what it wanted above all things—the buttered bread, cake, and scones. The Elementals that actually ate rarely got to taste baked things; as a consequence they craved the taste.

  Well, by her reckoning they had a full loaf of buttered bread in that basket and they were never going to eat it. She held out one of the sandwiches. The faun edged nearer, until his little goat-legs and hooves and tail were clearly visible. Polly looked as if she were about to burst, but she managed to stay quiet.

  The faun edged closer still, nostrils quivering, then stopped, eyes going even wider, if that was possible. “Eh!” it squeaked. “Tha’st scent of Old Thing abaht tha!” It spoke an even broader Yorkshire than the people at the Hall.

  “’Twould be curiouser had she not,” said Robin from behind Susanne’s right shoulder. “Take thy victuals, and tell the others there’ll be sharing when thy Master has had her fill.”