Magic Below Stairs (20 page)

In the deep midwinter, at the great house called Skeynes, day dimmed to evening. The big house glowed with simple comfort and careful housekeeping. In Lord Schofield's dressing room, there was warmth and light and work to do.

For Frederick, there was peace. He never saw Billy Bly anymore. He couldn't hear even the faintest note of his deep voice. Yet Frederick was certain Billy Bly was near. He took comfort from the knowledge. For the next seven years, the brownie would watch over the whole household at Skeynes, not just the infant heir.

There was serenity in that, to Frederick's way of thinking. Back in London, in the days of Billy Bly's banishment, when Frederick's senses had worked perfectly, there had been no Billy Bly in the house to watch over them. Better this way, Frederick promised himself. Far better.

When seven years had passed, what then? Frederick was already determined to learn as much magic as he could. If he was good enough at magic in seven years, perhaps he would be able to call Billy Bly by himself. Perhaps someday he would see the brownie again, not because he needed him. Frederick wanted to ask how Billy Bly had tailored the suit of livery to fit him, and to thank him for all he had done.

When Frederick dismissed Clarence for the day, he added one last duty to the list. “Now and then, put down a dish of cream. Take care not to let it stay too long, for it will sour if it goes untouched. But every week or so, leave out a dish of cream.”

“Why?” Clarence looked confused. “Does Lord Schofield keep a cat in his bedchamber now?”

“No cat,” Frederick said. “Do it anyway. That's my advice to you. The freshest, best cream available.”