‘Fine,’ she conceded reluctantly. ‘But then Mrs Mary Smith leaves Bath for good.’
‘As you wish!’ Aurelia nodded, her eyes gleaming. ‘Now, we really do need to go back. This way, come on.’
Inhaling deeply, Phoebe followed Aurelia through two large hydrangea bushes to find herself on a main, lantern-lit path. She felt cheered immediately, and had just turned in the direction of faint music and a small crowd, when a loud whinny distracted her.
Startled, she glanced up to spy a small shelter and a series of watchful eyes, staring back in the murky dusk.
‘Misty!’ she exclaimed joyously, before making her way across the path.
It wasn’t Misty, but a chestnut mare bearing a remarkable likeness to her Dartmoor pony, and, without hesitation, Phoebe buried her face in her homely scent, letting all thoughts of infuriating viscounts, garden fairies, and mysterious actresses slide from her mind.
‘There doesn’t seem to beanyonewaiting,’ she frowned, looking around the immediate vicinity.
‘No one, at all.’ Aurelia smiled, looming up out of the dusk. ‘Plus, we’d get back twice as fast. Of course, the viscount said you might still be feeling too delicate for riding, but…’
Phoebe was astride the mare in a heartbeat; the thought of the viscount passing any such comment on her person all the encouragement she needed. She pushed her aunt’s warning from her mind, as Aurelia pulled the reins from their tether.
‘Excellent!’ Aurelia laughed in her tinkling way that always put Phoebe in mind of a ballroom chandelier. ‘I’ll follow on Diamond, who looks a little forlorn.’
Phoebe nodded, barely listening, as she turned the mare with ease. It felt so good to be back in the saddle, with stars peeping through the sky above and the soft sound of hooves beneath.
‘Really, I’ve no idea why Aunt was so against a ride,’ she muttered to herself as she reached forward to scratch the mare between the ears. ‘Riding should play a part in every convalescence.’
Which was precisely when the sound of a resounding slap filled the air.
For a briefest of moments, everything stilled, and then the mare sprang forward as though several impressive carnivores were in direct pursuit. Phoebe didn’t immediately connect the sound with the mare’s rump, or indeed, Aurelia herself, but after spending several seconds clinging to the neck of a bolting horse, she had little choice but to accept the two were highly likely to be related.
‘Get back! Move!’ she yelled to the looming crowd, with as much dignity as she could muster.
The crowd, however, seemed singularly disinterested in their impending doom. With a valiant effort, Phoebe leaned forward and shortened her reins. She was a seasoned horsewoman, but she also knew that the very worst thing she could do was force the mare into a violent halt. So instead, she drew a deep breath and reverted to one of Fred’s favourites.
‘I said … mind your lazy rumps!’ she yelled.
Happily, this time the crowd heard every word, and with a series of audible gasps, parted to let her blaze through, giving Phoebe the chance to observe two highly important things: the first was that the crowd actually appeared to be a long queue of people waiting on one side of the path; and the second was that the last of them looked disturbingly familiar.
Phoebe shrank in disbelief. Even though she was beginning to suspect thelittle extraingredient in Aurelia’s snuff to be something quite different from ground tobacco and rose petals, she’d know those perfect eyebrows anywhere.
Numbly, she clung on as the horse bolted down the main path, only becoming aware of a second rider in pursuit as they approached a bridge over the canal. But the terrified mare showed no signs of slowing, even when a trio of revellers spilled out of the bushes before them. Then, just when Phoebe thought she must ride right out of the garden itself, she glimpsed a familiar party beside the lantern boats, on the canal-side below them.
‘A walk to the lantern boats after supper sounds very agreeable.’
Theecho reached through the fog in Phoebe’s head as she stared, transfixed by the silhouette of a child, dancing along the pontoon as though it were a park bench. And all at once, nothing else was important.
Without hesitating, Phoebe swerved and forced the mare into a dangerous leap, barely skimming a hedge and the outstretched branches of an old apple blossom, before landing and stumbling to a halt. Then she slipped from her back, and plunged down the bank, all thoughts of fairies and riding replaced with a stone-cold fear for her errant younger sister.
‘Matilda!’ Phoebe yelled, as an explosion of fireworks lit up the sky in such myriad colours that everyone was completely mesmerised.
Which just happened to be exactly the moment that Matilda lost her balance, and fell with a barely discernible splash, between two of the largest lantern boats. For a second, everything stilled again, and then the world loomed back in multicolour, together with a delighted cheer from the bank.
‘Phoebe!’
Matilda’s cry was barely audible as Phoebe flew towards her, a strange asphyxiation threatening her throat. Then she, too, was plunging into the black canal water, without so much as a backward glance.
Unlike Matilda, Phoebe was a strong swimmer, but she also knew the real enemy was the weight of the boats themselves, especially when tethered to the pontoon. She struck out fiercely and reached the first lantern-lit craft within seconds, before drawing a deep breath and ducking down into the long weeds beneath. The water was deep and dark, and the swaying tendrils deceptive, but she kicked and fumbled among the icy weeds until finally, her hands closed around a small arm. Then frantically, she pulled with all her strength, just as someone else loomed up beside her and began pulling too. For one confused moment she thought it was Fred, and then the only thing that mattered was reaching the surface before her chest burst.
‘Matty,’ she choked on the sweet dusk air, as two gentlemen pulled her sister’s still body from the water.
‘Matilda!’ she heard her aunt shriek. ‘What have you done, child, what have you done?!’
