“HI.” HENRY MANAGED TO FOLLOW that up with “cheese,” but he couldn’t finish what he’d been about to say by adding “girl.”
Complete with white tie and tails, he was standing at the Spencers’ front door, and for the first time since I’d known him, he was at a loss for words. Or so it seemed. Behind him, the streetlights cast a warm glow on the gravel drive, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if a coach drawn by white horses had come around the corner to take me to the ball. Huh! Cinderella had nothing on me.
Everyone had assured me that the dress suited me wonderfully, and when I’d taken a last look in the mirror just now I had a feeling that I would never be able to wipe the broad smile off my face. Idiotic as all those layers of tulle might look on the hanger, I had to admit that they made me into another person. A prettier person. And that shade of blue matched my eye color perfectly, exactly as Mom had said. Within two hours she’d taken about four hundred photographs of me (“To think I’d ever see the day!”), Lottie had shed tears (“My beautiful elf-child!”), Florence had nodded with satisfaction (“Vera Wang is always a good choice”), and Mia had clapped her hands in admiration (“You’ll be the loveliest sheep in the ballroom”). Only Ernest’s reaction brought me down to earth a little, because he said I was the image of my mother. But I think he meant it as a compliment.
In the afternoon, Lottie had styled my hair with the curling iron and pinned it in place at the back of my head. I’d been surprised that it looked so good. There had been a minor panic when I couldn’t find the little container with my contact lenses and was afraid I’d have to go to the ball in my nerdy glasses, but then it turned out that when Florence was tidying up she had accidentally put the container in the bathroom cupboard with the cleaning things.
But it was one thing to think I looked good, and quite another to see Henry’s eyes shining. He looked pretty good himself in his tailcoat, even if his hair didn’t quite match the formal evening dress; it was still standing out in all directions. However, we passed muster as we went by Mrs. Lawrence and Pandora Porter-Peregrin, who were on guard at the historic entrance to Frognal Academy. With the braziers and lighted torches outside, it could have competed with Downton Abbey this evening. Pandora and Mrs. Lawrence weren’t admitting anyone who didn’t conform to the dress code.
“Long skirts, white tie and tails,” said Mrs. Lawrence unmercifully to a couple in a cocktail dress and a tuxedo respectively. “You can either come in after the official part of the ball or go home and change.”
“The hardest door in London to get past,” commented Henry, who had reverted to his usual casual attitude on the way, and he made me laugh.
Who’d have thought, on my first day at Frognal Academy, that I’d be going to this silly Autumn Ball myself, just under five weeks after I’d stood in front of that poster? Then Persephone had told me brusquely, Forget it! And above all, who’d have thought I’d actually be having fun?
The ball committee had done a really good job. Not that creating the perfect Victorian atmosphere had been any big deal, because the Frognal Academy ballroom dated back to the time when the school was founded. The large bow window on the long side of the room gave it a distinguished look, and so did the murals and the stucco ceiling. The parquet floor was polished to a high gloss, and the huge chandeliers cast their light on the colorful flower arrangements and the shimmering dresses of the female guests, standing together in small groups. I was almost disappointed to find only a string quintet playing in a corner. With Florence’s talent for organization, I’d have expected the London Philharmonic at least. But maybe they were on tour overseas at the moment.
As president of the ball committee, Florence received every couple herself. When it was our turn, she energetically steered us into the photography corner, which was up in a gallery. We tried to look as Victorian as possible in front of the camera, and I managed to do it at least once without bursting into fits of laughter. Jasper, who came after us, had no such problems. Very much Shaving Fun Ken tonight, he had a girl on each arm, and he’d probably left another in reserve in the girls’ toilet. In other ways too he seemed to be in high spirits, particularly when he caught sight of his ex-girlfriend Madison.
“Poor thing,” he said, meeting me at the side of the gallery. “This must be the saddest day of her life. She’ll be looking at Nathan the whole time and thinking that she could have been here with me instead, if she hadn’t been such a silly cow.”
“Yes, sure,” I said, and left Henry with Jasper as I faced the difficult task of climbing down from the gallery with my skirts intact, which depended on keeping my eyes on the steps. I’d almost done it when I bumped into a girl at the bottom.
“Anabel!”
It was indeed Anabel, looking delicate and wonderfully beautiful in a black and cream dress with a close-fitting bodice and a skirt as lavishly equipped with layers of tulle as mine. She seemed nervous and tense, and a little sad, just as she had in my dreams. No wonder: Arthur had his hand on her shoulder in a very possessive way. At least he had evidently awoken unharmed from last night’s dream.
“Liv Silver,” said Anabel, and her shining turquoise eyes looked me up and down. “Pretty dress. You and Henry make a fine couple.”
“You know each other?” asked Florence in surprise. She was standing beside the steps with her clipboard.
“Well, no,” said Anabel, smiling. “Or only from the Tittle-Tattle blog. Secrecy seems to take a particular interest in us, don’t you agree, Liv?”
I nodded. “Are you all right?” I asked anxiously.
Anabel lowered her eyes.
“She’s fine,” said Arthur, answering for her, and he guided her up the steps.
Henry and I watched them go. “Have you spoken to him again? He seems kind of the worse for wear,” I whispered to Henry. “And Anabel looks as pale as a corpse.”
At the word corpse, Henry started. “I haven’t had time to speak to Arthur; I had a few things to see about at home, then I had to find some damn patent-leather shoes, and…” He sighed. “Listen. Halloween isn’t for another three and a half weeks. We’ll have thought of something by then. But let’s just think of other things tonight. This is a special evening. And we won’t hunt any demons,” he added, striking an attitude, and I had to laugh, because only now did I notice that he really was wearing his great-grandfather’s medal. “By God, tonight we dance!”
“You got that out of a film,” I said reproachfully, although I couldn’t for the life of me think which one.
He shook his head, grinning. “Not that I know of.”
One way or another, he was proved right. Because by God, we did dance. The dancing went like this: For the first hour only classical music was played, although not by the string quartet, which went away after the official photos had been taken, but from the stereo system (the recordings were by the London Philharmonic). The traditional opening waltz, led by Mrs. Cook the headmistress and a white-bearded teacher with a lot of pomade on his hair and beard, was only for hard-core ballroom fans and admirers of the Vienna Opera Ball.
Henry and I agreed that it was much more fun to watch the other couples lining up and then moving over the dance floor to the solemn sounds of Johann Strauss’s Homage to Queen Victoria, including several bows and—the absolute highlight, at least for Henry and me—a moment when the men raised their partners in the air. We had to laugh at Grayson’s expression of alarm just before he lifted Emily off her feet, but we also realized why Florence, with her talent for making the perfect decision on every occasion, had fixed it to get Callum Caspers as her partner. He might look as unimpressive as Secrecy had described him, but he danced very well indeed, maybe better than anyone else present. Unlike Persephone, who gave me a gracious wave in passing but then got the whole formation confused because at the sight of Jasper, as usual, she turned to a pillar of salt.
Anabel and Arthur weren’t dancing. They were standing up in the gallery, holding hands and looking somehow distracted.
“Don’t you think we should…” I began asking Henry, but he just shook his head.
Later we ventured onto the dance floor ourselves, and I felt a little sorry that I hadn’t listened to Mom and taken dancing lessons ages ago. Henry surprised me with his ability to dance Viennese waltzes. Not that it did him much good with me. My dancing abilities, unfortunately, were confined to what Mom, Lottie, and YouTube had taught me. And I also had to keep murmuring “one, two, three, one, two, three” to myself so as not to dance out of time, which in turn didn’t do much for communication with my partner. Cinderella would have done better in my place—but then, she was a naturally good dancer.
I was glad when Henry suggested we might fill in the time until the “real music” began by trying the much-praised buffet set out in the room next to the ballroom. We met Jasper again there. He had somehow managed to get tipsy, although there were no alcoholic drinks.
I had just helped myself to a puff pastry stick when Henry suddenly came up beside me, took the puff pastry stick out of my hand, and took my arm. “Hey,” I protested, “dancing makes me hungry.”
“Me too,” he murmured, and led me around behind one of the pillars separating the buffet from the front hall. He put his hands on my shoulders, held me close, and looked into my eyes. “Do you know how damn beautiful you are, Liv Silver?” he asked, and then he began covering first my mouth and then my throat with little kisses. All of a sudden my appetite had disappeared. Who could have guessed that kisses would have such a surprising effect…?
I positively melted into his arms. I’ve no idea how he did it, but when he kissed me nothing else mattered. My hand went to the back of his neck. I could feel the warmth of his skin. “Maybe we ought to forget about that demon and his silly obsession with virgin blood once and for all,” I murmured.
“You mean so that you don’t end up like your aunt Gertrude?” Henry drew back from me for a moment before holding me even closer. We kissed again, this time even harder. Then he asked, “You mean here and now?”
I didn’t manage to answer, because at that moment Grayson came around the pillar. “Oh, here you two are,” he said, looking at us with a frown as I hastily stepped back, hoping that my hair wasn’t standing out in all directions like Henry’s.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Henry, Jasper’s in there and on the point of picking a fight with Nathan. He just called him a midget. You must help me to sober him up a bit.”
“That stupid midget.” Reluctantly, Henry let go of me. “Is it okay if I leave you on your own for a while, Liv?”
“I was just … er, going to the toilet anyway,” I said awkwardly.
“Right,” said Grayson, and I couldn’t help hearing the note of disapproval in his voice. “And splashing some cold water on your face wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”
What was biting him? Hadn’t he been smooching far more heavily at Arthur’s party the other day? And I hadn’t said a thing about it. I gave him a cool glance, picked up my skirts, and walked away with all the dignity I could muster.
When I looked at myself in the mirror of the girls’ toilet, however, I couldn’t help agreeing with Grayson. I really did look as if I could use some cold water on my face. None of my lip gloss was left, and instead my cheeks were unnaturally red. I’d have liked to put a little powder on, but it hadn’t fit into my bag, which was only a tiny little evening bag. Lip gloss, a tissue, peppermint drops, two ten-pound notes, and the front door key—that was all I could get into it. I hadn’t even tried to bring my clumsy old cell phone with me.
The door of a cubicle in the toilets closed behind me, and Emily’s face appeared in the mirror over my shoulder.
“Hi,” I said, forcing myself to smile. I didn’t particularly like her, and she might quite possibly be Secrecy, the most malicious person under the sun, but still, she was my future stepbrother’s girlfriend, so I needed to at least take some trouble with her.
“Oh, here you are, Liv,” she said. Not that she seemed particularly glad of that. She was wearing a plain black ball dress this evening. It would have been just right for a Victorian widow. “Grayson’s been looking for you everywhere. For some reason or other, he seems to think he ought to keep an eye on you. Well, I can’t blame him—after all, you’re going out with Henry Harper.”
“What do you mean by that?” No, I didn’t like Emily one little bit.
“I know how crazy you girls are about that sort.” Emily opened her little evening bag and took out a lipstick. “Boys like Arthur, Jasper, and Henry—self-confident, casual, egotistic, superficial, and totally irresponsible. In fact, perfect examples of the classic heartbreaker. I’ll never understand it.”
“Goodness me, and I thought you were a girl yourself,” I said. I was amused to hear her lumping Jasper, Henry, and Arthur all in together, when they couldn’t have been more different from one another.
“Yes, but a girl with sense,” said Emily. “And good taste. Grayson is the only reasonable one in that little circle. I really do wish he’d find other friends. Take Jasper, for example—he smuggled bottles of alcohol into the school today for himself and the girls he’s with. Arthur and Anabel were with them too. With their relationship dying the way it is, they probably feel they have to get tipsy. Ball King and Ball Queen only last year, and today I somehow feel sorry for them.” She made a contemptuous face. “At least, Anabel staggered past me, obviously drunk, and babbling something about, oh, I don’t know what, but to give you her regards. I mean, how sozzled can you get? After all, she’s going to be in London all weekend—she can say hello to you for herself.”
I stared at Emily. All the alarm bells that had begun ringing faintly when she said that about the dying relationship between Arthur and Anabel were now going off at full volume.
“Where are they?”
Emily looked at me in surprise, probably because in my fright I’d grabbed her by the arm.
“Arthur and Anabel?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Gone.”
“Gone?”
“They left just now. Anabel could hardly keep on her feet. She was so drunk that Arthur had to support her. She looked like a lamb going to the slaughter.”
“What?” The words lamb and slaughter set off a wild association of ideas in my head.
“Anabel and Arthur have left the ball,” repeated Emily patiently, as if I were a total idiot. “I can only hope that at least they had the sense to take a taxi.”
The fright had gone straight to my stomach, along with the realization that we might have been on quite the wrong trail. And that we couldn’t wait until Halloween.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Suppose Arthur had been deliberately leading us astray last night? Suppose he’d had no intention of completing the ritual in a dream? Suppose he …
“Is there a new moon tonight?” I shouted at Emily.
“Well, I…” She sounded taken aback.
“When was this exactly? I mean, when did Arthur and Anabel leave?”
Emily stared at me. “Just now, as I said.”
Oh no. No! I seized Emily by the shoulders and shook her.
“Tell Henry I’m trying to stop them! Tell him to forget all about Halloween—it’s going to happen tonight. And for real! Tell Henry to…” I let go of her, snatched my tiny little evening bag off the side of the washbasin, and ran to the door. “Tell him to damn well think up something else!”
I took off my shoes so that I could go faster. Maybe I was on the wrong track, maybe I was the one going crazy, but if I was right, if the realization that had struck me full force just now wasn’t merely the product of my imagination working overtime, then something terrible was going to happen tonight. And I had to stop it. Gathering up my skirts, I raced full speed ahead along the corridors, never mind what anyone else thought. Please, please let them still be here, I prayed silently.
But Anabel and Arthur had already left the school building. When I reached the entrance door, they were already out in the street and just getting into a taxi.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Anabel! Arthur! Wait!”
Anabel turned her head to look at me, but then she followed Arthur into the car and closed the door.
Damn.
I ran down the steps and crossed the school yard. Slowly, the taxi began to move away. Another taxi was waiting behind it, obviously intended for the elderly teacher who had opened the ball with the headmistress, because he was making straight for it. I couldn’t stop to think of that now. I pushed him aside and flung the car door open.
“Young lady!” said the white-bearded teacher indignantly.
“I know I shouldn’t do this, sir, but it’s an emergency,” I replied. I didn’t wait for his answer but dropped into the back seat and said something that would never have crossed my lips if I hadn’t been so desperate. “Follow that car, please. And fast.”