The Tales of Aylfenhame Compendium

Chapter Seventeen-3

And she did not know precisely how to react. Her heart ached for the insecurity that had led him to practice such a charade; but she could not help feeling offended—nay, hurt—that he had felt such a masquerade to be necessary for her sake. Did he think her so shallow? And whatever the reasons behind it, it had still been a long-practiced, carefully planned deception of the most cold-blooded kind. Had he ever planned to tell her the truth?

Perhaps it did not matter. He had Lihyaen to attend to now; she might never see him again. The manner of his farewell had certainly suggested as much to her own heart. But insecurity was something she could always forgive, for she was so intimately acquainted with it herself.

‘All’s well, Miss Sophy?’ Balligumph was saying, peering down into her face with concern. She had been staring sightlessly at the darkening sky for some time, she realised, and a silence had fallen upon her companions as they awaited some manner of reaction from her.

It cost her a considerable effort, but Sophy managed to push away the painful thoughts that crowded her heart and muster a smile for Balligumph. He was such a dear friend, and he had always taken such very good care of her. ‘All shall be well, I promise it,’ she said firmly. ‘I am only tired.’

‘Aye, an’ I shouldn’t wonder! Best be off home soon, eh, and get some shut-eye?’

‘Indeed.’ Sophy recognised her cue to stand, but for the moment she could not muster the energy to pull herself to her feet. Her eyes drifted shut for an instant, and she hurriedly opened them wide again.

Grunewald stood in front of her, peering down into her face. When she opened her eyes, he smiled widely and tipped his hat to her.

‘Our friend Aubranael has exceptionally good taste, I do believe,’ he said. ‘I can read your thoughts, I think, and so you may take it from me: you have not seen the last of him.’ He winked, and Sophy could not help smiling in return. His certainty cheered her, for he knew Aubranael better even than she did: had he not spent these past few weeks living with him entirely? Perhaps he was right.

Isabel took a seat beside Sophy and took her hand, pressing it in the friendliest manner imaginable. Anne did the same on her other side, and Sophy’s smile grew. ‘I cannot tell you how grateful I am,’ she said. ‘That you should all take such risks on my behalf! It is very humbling.’

She was treated to a chorus of affectionate denials in response, and much in the way of caresses and kisses from Anne, Isabel and Mary. Even Thundigle squeezed her thumb, his eyes shining with emotion, his lip quivering as he attempted to express his fears on her account. Sophy’s heart was so full she could barely contain her own emotion, and she felt considerable relief when a great clattering of approaching carriage-wheels interrupted them.

Within moments, three carriages drew up on or near the bridge. Anne’s sisters spilled forth from the first; Mr. and Mrs. Ellerby all but fell out of the second; and the third stood quietly waiting, Mr. Green’s coachman visible holding the reins.

‘Anne!’ shrieked a chorus of female voices, and Anne’s sisters descended upon her. Their mother was close behind, and the four of them swiftly bore Anne away. Then Mr. and Mrs. Ellerby swept over the bridge and fell upon their children, with much high-pitched protestations of alarm on Mrs. Ellerby’s part and a number of rather thunderous questions posed by Mr. Ellerby. Drowsily, Sophy realised that her friends had been absent for some time, quite long enough to alarm their families. A twinge of guilt smote her, for it must be her fault: but she was too tired to give it very much room in her heart. She merely watched sleepily as her friends disappeared into their carriages and were driven away.

‘How curious that they should all appear at the bridge, and at the very same time,’ she murmured, her eye on Thundigle.

The brownie adjusted the angle of his tall top-hat and flashed one of his rare smiles. ‘It does not take so very long to send a message from one side of Tilby to the other,’ he informed her gravely. ‘Not when one enjoys the friendship and regard of Mr. Thundigle of the Brownies.’

The third carriage drew all the way up to the bridge and stopped. Grunewald bowed before her, held out his hand and said: ‘Miss Landon? My carriage is at your disposal.’

Sophy gave him the sunniest smile she had at her disposal, and allowed him to help her to her feet. She was truly touched by the gesture, and swiftly revised her opinion of the erstwhile Mr. Green. ‘I am much obliged to you,’ she told him. But before she stepped inside, she turned to Tut-Gut, Tara-Tat, Pinch, Pinket and Graen who stood, a little forlornly, with Balligumph.

Tut-Gut cleared his throat. ‘In spite of yer tricks, I must say it has been a pleasure,’ he said gruffly. ‘Ye’re a tricksy sort, in the best kind o’ way.’

Balli chuckled at that, and Grunewald smiled in his sardonic way. ‘Thank you,’ Sophy said gravely. ‘But I do not think our friendship is over, just yet.’ She surveyed the small faces before her sternly, and put her hands upon her hips. ‘Who was it who saved you—Pinket excepted—from the Teapot Society?’

‘Mary and Sophy!’ carolled Graen and Pinch together, and Tut-Gut and Tara-Tat nodded. Pinket bobbed beside her head, flashing with a blinding white light.

‘That puts you all in our debt, do you not think?’ Sophy said with a smile.

Mary drew herself up to her full height and looked down her nose at the assembled fae, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. ‘So it does! And a good thing too, for we are in sore need at present.’

‘In that case,’ said Tut-Gut, and grinned. ‘What is it yer needin’?’

‘Sleep,’ Sophy said promptly. ‘We shall be delighted to receive you at the parsonage for tonight; and in the morning, we will discuss our options.’

Tut-Gut bowed, and Tara-Tat, Pinch and Graen hurriedly followed suit. They all piled into the coach, and Sophy saw Mary and Thundigle safely inside. She turned back to Balli and stretched up on her tiptoes; he put down his head to receive her kiss on his broad cheek, and grinned at her. ‘Ye’re a good girl,’ he said fondly. ‘Get yerself some shut-eye, Miss, and see me again in the mornin’.’

Sophy promised, and allowed Grunewald to hand her into the coach. His bright green eyes twinkled at her with amusement and respect, and the last thing she heard before the door closed behind him was: ‘Tricksy indeed! He has the right of it.’