It was a horrible feeling.
In her mind, she clutched the imaginary ball of wool to herself and set off after the thread, towards the monster at the heart of the labyrinth.
Chapter two
Ormdale
Atthatverymoment,the sought-after visitor was gazing into the round pond outside the abbey’s front.
“The round pond is of seventeenth-century origin, and has been significantly enlarged by the present owner for the exhibition of one of our native Yorkshire species,” explained the older woman leading the tour.This lady had introduced herself as the housekeeper of Wormwood Abbey, and she took the crowd about just as if she were showing them around a typical stately home.
Only this wasnota typical stately home.
“Here you can see two,” she went on.“They have been classifieddraconis ormis, after their native habitation in our Orme River, which itself is from the Old Norse for dragon.”
He refused to be put at ease by her lavender-and-lace demeanour.He had been warned about the sort of women he would encounter at Ormdale.He would not be taken in.
“Don’t they prefer to be left in the river?”objected an underfed adolescent clutching a camera.He was probably a vegetarian.
“Yes, of course, you are right to be concerned,” the housekeeper said with a tranquil smile, the cameo at her throat bobbing.“But you see, the river dragon often rejects one or two of her clutch, and these we raise here, so that the population does not diminish.These are juveniles.Later, they are released into the river from whence they came, so they can live a free and natural life.”
“Oh, Mr Anderson, howdoyou do?“ came a voice from behind him which made him turn round.
The girl standing before him was not at all the Amazonian he had expected.In her filmy, sky-coloured frock that made her eyes appear almost unnaturally blue, she seemed the sort of girl that ought to berescuedfrom a dragon, not guard them.
“How do you do?I’m Una Worms.My cousin George told me so much about your correspondence.And he is most anxious that I give you a private tour, and make you completely at home among us.Please, follow me?”
She spoke beautifully, in the way he had been taught to recognise as ladylike.It almost put him off guard.Then he saw the thick belt at her waist.Among other things, a sheathed knife hung from it.
“Of course, it would be my pleasure,” he said with a smile, resolving not to underestimate her.
As they moved away towards a gravel path, she glanced at his cane.He limped a little harder.
“Shall we go to the glasshouse first, before it becomes too crowded?”she asked, casting a glance back at the horde by the pond.
“Do you mind the crowds, then, Miss Worms?”he remarked, not hiding his surprise.
“I don’t particularly like crowds, it is true.But Ormdale is important for England, so everyone should be able to see it.The dragons belong to us all.”
She sounded like a child repeating a lesson.
“Your cousin is away at present?”he asked.
“Yes, he has gone to the Sudan.I’m sorry, you must be dreadfully disappointed after corresponding with him for so many years.”
“And the rest of your family?”
“My aunt is visiting a friend, and my uncle is at Windsor on business,” she said.
“And your sisters?”he pressed.
“My oldest sister is a lecturer at the London Medical School for Women,” she said, quite proudly.“And my other is away at present.”
They followed a gravel walk around the stone walls of the abbey.The belt round her waist jangled as she walked—along with the knife, there was a great ring of keys on it, a whistle, and a series of vials that swirled with a brackish liquid.The famous antivenom.
Sunlight exploded on his vision as they rounded the corner.He stopped for an instant, dazzled, his eyes lifted to the heavens as he followed the delicate tracery of the glasshouse’s ironwork to the glittering dome at its zenith.
Here, on the edge of the moors, under the stern gaze of the Yorkshire fells, it was the last thing one would expect, as insubstantial as a fairy tale.
