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would not be appropriate,’ Aunt Clara snapped.
    Lily looked up at him. She didn’t even need magic to tell Sam silently that of course they would, appropriate or not. He nodded, the anxious creases round his eyes fading a little. ‘You won’t be too grand for us, then?’ he whispered to her, and she rolled her eyes. ‘We won’t be staying,’ she whispered back. ‘But she might know where Father is. We have to try.’
    Aunt Clara’s coachman was waiting in her landau outside the theatre, wearing a thick uniform coat and a top hat, and looking hot. The horse, a beautiful grey with the shiniest of harnesses, looked bored, but he rolled a nervous eye towards Aunt Clara as she swept out of the theatre. Lily would almost have sworn he stood up straighter.
    ‘She’s like Mama, isn’t she?’ Georgie whispered, and Lily nodded. Their mother had terrified everyone at Merrythought. The whole house had been ruled by her moods. If she wanted quiet, the maids went about in stocking feet. It seemed that Aunt Clara ran her house on the same lines – but without magic.
    The girls climbed into the carriage silently. They’d only lived at the theatre for a few weeks, but it felt more like home to Lily than Merrythought ever had, and she hated to leave. Daniel and Sam were on the front steps, with Maria, and some of the artistes. Aunt Clara had flinched visibly at the sight of them, but Lily and Georgie didn’t care.
    ‘I’ve packed for you,’ Maria muttered, reaching up, and stuffing a battered carpetbag into Georgie’s arms. She glared suspiciously at Aunt Clara, who stared through her, as if she simply couldn’t see her. ‘Just a few little things. To help you keep your end up with Madam Fancy.’
    Henrietta barked loudly as the carriage trundled away – short, painful barks that made Lily’s skin crawl. Henrietta couldn’t do spells herself, but that noise came close to magic. The sad little crowd on the steps drew closer to each other, shivering, and Sam started forward, as though he meant to chase the carriage. The last Lily saw of them was Daniel pulling him back.
    The theatre was out of sight now, however much she craned her neck around the hood of the carriage. Lily swallowed, staring down at the darned gloves Georgie had insisted she put on. They were beautifully mended, but they were more darn than glove. ‘Aunt, how old is our cousin?’ she asked, wanting to distract herself.
    Aunt Clara frowned at her, and glanced meaningfully at the coachman. But then she seemed to decide that it was an innocent enough question.
    ‘Louis is nine,’ she answered. ‘It will be pleasant for him to have companions close to his own age. Well-behaved companions,’ she added, fixing Lily with a diamond stare.
    Lily nodded, very slightly. She supposed that Louis didn’t do magic either – or no more than Aunt Clara. How on earth did he stop himself? Of course their aunt wouldn’t want her darling corrupted by his criminal cousins. ‘What does –’ she stopped, realising that she had no idea what their uncle was called. ‘Your husband, Aunt Clara. What does he do?’
    ‘Sir Oliver is a gentleman of leisure,’ her aunt replied coldly. ‘He has estates in the north. He comes of a very old family. Very respectable.’
    Obviously not a magician then, Lily translated. So their cousin had only half magician blood. But still. Even the littlest magic usually travelled down the family line. Some magicians were stronger than others, of course. Lily had a much harder time controlling her magic than Georgie did, because Georgie simply didn’t like the magic very much. She had been forced into using it in strange and unpleasant ways by their mother, and she’d had enough. Besides, if she let her magic spill out, the unknown spells Mama had planted inside her stirred, and odd, dangerous things began to happen. It was safer to pretend the magic wasn’t there at all. It would be torture for Lily, but Georgie seemed to be able to