Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 39

“Has Lord Winterly returned from Winterthurse?” Emma was asking. How obvious she was being. Victoria would likely not be fooled by such poorly feigned nonchalance.

Victoria chuckled. “He had planned to return on Tuesday, but his business keeps him in the country. Truly, I believe he will invent any excuse if it will keep him from London; although, he did promise he would escort me to the Full Moon Ball next Friday at the Argyll Rooms.”

“The Full Moon Ball?” Milli sagged in dejection. “I believe there are no more tickets to be had.” It was to be an exclusive affair and, as such, the vouchers had all been sold months ago, not that there had been the slightest hope for Milli. “Is Mr. Valko going too?” She was almost too dispirited to ask.

“He has been invited,” said Victoria, grinning. “And so have you, my dears. You shall find your tickets with your glass slippers when you get home.” She winked. “Or at least you shall when I post them off tomorrow.”

“Truly?” Milli’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, I could just die of happiness!” She hugged her fairy god-mother and then Emma and then her fairy god-mother again. “Thank you, Victoria!” If one could expire of euphoria then Milli was sure she’d be dead already.

“Now,” said Victoria, “I too must beg your leave, it is growing late and my supper, likewise, is growing old.”

Growing old? Surely she meant cold? These rich eccentrics did have some peculiar expressions. Well, that was of no moment because Millicent Rose was going to the Full Moon Ball and, soon after, would be sojourning in Winterthurse with aristocrats. So there was very little room in her bosom to care about anything growing old or cold, nor was she so very upset about Valko anymore.

As soon as Milli was home tonight, she would write to Sybil and Poppy in Little Snoring and tell them all about her upcoming adventures. How jealous her friends would be.

The sisters accompanied Victoria back to the Grand Walk and there saw her off before returning to their guardians.

“Now why would Mr. Valko,” said Emma, “be escorting the De Grigoris to another engagement via the Lover’s Walk. That’s entirely the wrong direction, and dark besides.”

Milli’s lips tightened. “I’m sure I don’t care to know.”

“Perhaps they took the long way to the proprietor’s house to avoid you.” Emma nudged her in the ribs playfully as they followed behind their guardians. “You did run at him like a charging bullock.”

“I much prefer the term runaway donkey, thank you, Emma. A donkey is far more dignified than a bullock.”

“Not when the donkey has caught sight of its darling; though, I admit, you did bray beautifully at him.”

They laughed, strolling along the graveled walkways and under the flowering arbors. Lively fiddlers serenaded the crowd and the sky erupted with color and light so impressive that Milli didn’t even care when she dropped half her sweets on the ground.

Thousands of lamps, strung like ribbons between the bowers, flickered amidst the stately trees and hedges. The orchestra itself, where a cotillion was underway, was illuminated with just as many tiny, twinkling lights. The cast iron pillars of the colonnades, under which they passed, too were bedecked with chatoyant lamps. Milli had never seen anything so whimsical, nor so spectacular as Vauxhall by night.

The sudden clanging of a bell seemed to rouse the crowd to further excitement. “It’s ten o’clock!” said Milli, herding her family down one of the walkways. “Make haste! I want to get a good spot in front of the Cascade!”

The black curtains were drawing back as they arrived to reveal a lighted mechanical waterfall, a bridge, and a mill. It frothed and bubbled and roared over the music. The whole extravaganza lasted only ten minutes before the curtain closed once more.

“What?” said their uncle playfully, “is that all?”

“It was wonderful!” Milli could not remember a better night than this one.

Her uncle pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and considered the time. “Ladies, now that we have reveled in all the pleasures of Vauxhall, perhaps you might permit this gentleman to return to his pipe and slippers?” It was his turn to herd his womenfolk, and they all gave in gladly, yawning and giggling.

Milli fell behind, momentarily distracted by an acrobat. A tug at her elbow instantly drew her attention to the crooked gypsy woman staring up at her. “Lady,” said she, “pretty lady, let me read your fortune.”

“I don’t have any money.” Milli glanced up the walkway to see that Emma had paused to wait for her.

Unconcerned, the old woman availed herself of Milli’s hand and pored over her palm, her grey hair falling forward as she ran a dirty finger over the delicate lines and folds. Almost instantly her ancient brow furrowed and the smile fell away from her face. She glanced up. “You are afraid of the dark, lady.”

Milli pursed her lips, unimpressed. “Nine in ten people are afraid of the dark, my good woman.”

“It is not the dark but that which lurks in it, lady. Beware.”

With an impatient sigh, Milli produced a penny and planted it in the woman’s hand. “There, I’ve paid you, now I demand you tell me something pertinent. And pleasant.”

“Monsters are most alive at night.” The gypsy placed her hand on Milli’s forearm as though she could see something there that Milli could not. “It is then you must fear their bite. Do not venture outside on a Black Moon, lady.”

“What the devil is the matter with you?” Milli wrested her hand away. “I shall report you to the Master of Ceremonies at once.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched away, but not far enough away before the woman whispered one last terrible caveat.

“What did she say?” asked Emma when Milli had joined her again. “Something about petals?”

“How could you have possibly heard that? Oh, never mind, it’s only gammon!” Milli shot one last withering glance over her shoulder as they