Tess entered the chapel with her cardigan buttoned up, her sturdiest boots on and a small burlap sack she’d begged from Millie. In it, Millie had placed a flask of soup, some bread wrapped in waxed paper and a large bar of chocolate. With any luck she, Moose and Thomas would have time for a picnic when Operation Quicksilver was done.
“Here we are, love,” she whispered to Violet as they approached their top pew. She set down her lantern and Violet dutifully crawled out onto her fingers, ready to be deposited beside it. “I know you don’t like this bit but I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.”
She kissed her finger and tapped Violet gently with it, and the spider settled beside the soft light. Then Tess got to her feet and fished the Star-spinner out of her pocket. She took a deep breath and ran her thumb over the metal fronds, feeling them warm to her skin, feeling her own pulse vibrate through it, and—
“Ah. Here you are, Miss de Sousa. Good of you to join us.” The voice cut Tess to the heart. She turned, overcome with shock, to see Mrs. Thistleton emerging from a doorway tucked behind the rotting lectern. “We were wondering when you’d make your appearance.” Behind her stumbled a sobbing Millie, her face shining with tears in the lamplight. Mrs. Thistleton held her tightly by the wrist.
“Wh-what?” Tess feared she might throw up as she looked from one to the other.
“I’m sorry, miss!” Millie called. “She made me! She said— Ow!” Mrs. Thistleton yanked her forward and she reeled, losing her footing entirely on a loose floorboard and pitching headfirst down the altar steps. Her head smacked painfully off the floor tiles.
Tess pocketed the Star-spinner and dropped to her knees to haul the other girl up into a sitting position. “Are you all right?”
Millie seemed dazed but her eyes were bright. “Get away from here,” she said. “Go!”
“That’s quite enough,” Mrs. Thistleton said, coming to stand behind them. She’d positioned herself, Tess noticed too late, between the girls and the door. Tess turned her head to peer through the dark hole in the wall from which Mrs. Thistleton and Millie had emerged. But what’s out there? she thought. Thomas once mentioned a tunnel—is there one here, too? For a split second she prepared to run, and then she remembered Violet. Her eyes flickered to the top pew; Mrs. Thistleton was standing in front of it, a knowing smile on her face.
“What’s happening?” Tess said. “I don’t understand.”
“All this can be over quite quickly if you simply hand over the device,” Mrs. Thistleton said, her words so calm they almost seemed bored. As she spoke, she flexed the fingers of her left hand, on which she wore a thick leather glove.
“Wh-what device?” Tess swallowed hard as soon as the words were out of her mouth, looking away from the glove to stare into Mrs. Thistleton’s bone-white face.
“The one”—Mrs. Thistleton bent forward at the waist, tilting her head a little as though she were speaking to a baby—“that you had in your hand just a moment ago. The one you’ve been using to wriggle through holes in reality for the past few weeks. That one, Tess.”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking—”
“Spare me,” Mrs. Thistleton said, straightening up. “Hand it over now or things will be worse for everyone. Believe me.”
Tess blinked away tears of frustration and fear. “This doesn’t make any sense. You don’t even believe in any of this.”
Mrs. Thistleton smirked. “Did Norton tell you that? The dear. I shall have to have a word with him later. Now”—her face settled into its usual scowl—“the device, please.”
“No,” Tess said, trembling. “I won’t.”
“One last chance, Tess,” Mrs. Thistleton said, her voice low.
“And I’ve already told you,” Tess snarled back. “No!”
In one swift movement, Mrs. Thistleton turned to the top pew. She lifted Tess’s lantern with her ungloved hand, tipping it sideways to knock the candle out of it, and with the gloved one she grabbed Violet, shoving her into the empty lantern so quickly that the spider had no chance to react.
Mrs. Thistleton turned back to Tess as she snapped the glass door of the lantern closed, a triumphant light in her eyes.
“Let’s begin negotiations again, shall we? How about you reconsider what I’m asking you, Tess? The device in exchange for your spider.” The candle, lying on its side on the floor near Mrs. Thistleton’s feet, still burned; there was light enough for Tess to see Violet inside her glass prison, her legs searching for a way out.
Mrs. Thistleton lifted the lantern slightly, peering into it. “Tarantulas are remarkably strong for their size,” she said conversationally. “I’m sure you know that. But,” she continued, turning to face Tess, “I’m sure I’ll enjoy finding ways to hurt it if need be.”
“Don’t hurt her,” Tess said, her vision blurring. “Please.”
“You can stop all this if you just do as you’re asked,” Mrs. Thistleton said. “Be reasonable. I’m asking you for such a little thing. Is it really worth your spider’s life?” She sneered. “And without her, doesn’t that spell the end of your career as a world-wanderer anyway? You don’t want to risk that, surely.”
Tess stared, dumbfounded. She knows about Violet being my anchor, too? How?
“You’ll find, my dear, that it doesn’t do to underestimate those you feel are beneath you,” Mrs. Thistleton said, her voice tight with disgust. “Housekeepers, mere governesses even, are capable not only of great things but of great thoughts. Sometimes it is the most humble among us who wield the true power.” She began to swing the lantern. Tess watched as Violet staggered about inside it, fighting to find her balance. “So what’s it going to be?”
Tess reached into her pocket, keeping her eyes on Mrs. Thistleton all the time. If I pretend, she told herself. Pretend to be about to give it to her. Distract her with it. Then grab Violet and run…
Mrs. Thistleton’s eyes glittered in the low light. Without dropping her stare from Tess, she leaned to one side, just enough to reach the tall windowsill beside her. She placed the lantern on it, and as Tess watched this, her courage failed. Violet was gone, as completely as if she’d been thrown into the darkness.
“That’s it,” Mrs. Thistleton said, the beginnings of a smile on her face as Tess withdrew her hand from her pocket. “Now hand it over and you’ll get your spider back. You have my word.”
“Here’s what I think of your word,” Tess muttered before turning to Millie—or where Millie had been. Unseen by Tess and Mrs. Thistleton both, she had fled—and with her had gone Tess’s last hope of getting out of this situation with both her Star-spinner and her spider intact. Her mouth fell open in dismay.
“Dratted girl,” Mrs. Thistleton muttered, glancing at the chapel’s open door. “I hope she hasn’t gone running to Mr. Cleat in order to try to save her job. Her severance papers are already on his desk and now she’s sealed her fate—she’ll never gain a position in Hurdleford again.” She focused on Tess once more. “A shame when friends let you down, isn’t it?”
“I hate you,” Tess said, staring up at her governess.
Mrs. Thistleton shrugged. “And I you, child. Yet here we are. And if that device is not in my possession by the count of five, I shall smash this lantern against the wall. Sturdy as your spider is, I doubt very much whether it will survive the experience.”
“Violet is not an ‘it,’ ” Tess said through clenched teeth. Her fingers tightened around the Star-spinner and Mrs. Thistleton moved as quickly as a snake to haul Tess to her feet. The governess’s gloved fingers wedged themselves beneath the device, forcing it out of Tess’s grip.
Mrs. Thistleton held up the Star-spinner, turning it this way and that as if to admire it. “Such a tiny thing,” she said. “And yet how it will change the world.”
At that moment, the candle at her feet gave out, plunging the chapel into darkness. Mrs. Thistleton pocketed the Star-spinner and reached up to retrieve Violet, all the while keeping Tess’s arm in her iron grip.
“Now,” she said, into Tess’s ear, “let’s go home.”
Through the darkness of a deserted Fairwater Park, a young girl was running.
A young girl struggling to see through her tears, whose brain was ringing with hatred for the woman who’d made her betray her friend. Millie’s memory was filled with Tess’s wide disbelieving eyes, and the thought of what might be happening to the young miss right at that moment kept her feet flying. There was enough starlight to make out her destination—a padlocked pedestrian gate in a shady corner of the park, little used except by some of the staff of Roedeer Lodge.
Her breath tearing through her aching lungs, Millie reached the gate and climbed it. She landed heavily on the pavement outside and started to run down the leafy lane that led toward the city. Eventually, as the River Plura came into view, she had to stop for breath and she leaned against a lamppost as she tried to compose herself. Millie’s destination lay right at the end of the quays, at the heart of the city; it was a place she’d never been, but she was sure she could find it. Tess had described it often enough.
I’ve got to find her, Millie told herself. And whether Miss Ackerbee’s angry with me or not, whether she turns me out with a flea in my ear, I’ve got to try. She blinked hard. And then I’ll just have to fend for myself. She’d never seen Mrs. Thistleton angrier than she’d been earlier that evening, when she’d cornered Millie and made her tell her everything she knew. She’d threatened Millie with the sack but—as the girl now miserably realized—she was going to sack her anyway. She’d betrayed Tess for nothing.
“You’ll stop crying right this minute,” she told herself, wiping her eyes with her apron. “And you’ll go and get the job done.”
The silent city lay before her and Millie set off into it, her courage clenched in her fist.