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stuff it away inside her and ignore it quite happily. Perhaps Louis was the same.
    The coachman drew up in front of a grey stone house, with scrubbed-white steps leading up to the blackest, shiniest front door Lily had ever seen. It was not a friendly-looking house, and even in a street of smart stone houses, it gleamed a little more than the others. It was almost the stone version of Aunt Clara’s spell, a monument to manners and good taste. As a footman hurried down the steps to assist them from the carriage, Lily felt as if an invisible thread had attached itself to her scalp, dragging her to stand up straight.
    ‘I suppose it’s hardly worth sending you to your rooms to change for lunch,’ Aunt Clara sighed, twitching off her gloves. ‘You’re unlikely to have anything more suitable to change into. Very well. William, tell Cook we will have lunch now.’
    The footman glided away, and Lily felt almost grateful for the invisible thread. Part of her wanted to huddle away quietly somewhere, but she set her shoulders back further, and looked around the entrance hall, trying to seem unimpressed.
    It wasn’t as big as Merrythought, of course, but it was richer . The footman had been crusted with gold braid, and there was even more of it on the dark velvet curtains. Daniel would have loved them for the theatre, Lily thought, smiling unhappily. Nothing was faded, or dusty. Even the ancient-looking portraits shone.
    ‘You brought them.’ The boy from the theatre was walking down the curved staircase, and Lily watched him curiously. The only other boy she knew well was the mute servant-boy at Merrythought, Peter. He had spiky brownish hair, and a mostly brownish face, tanned from working outdoors. Their cousin looked rather like him. A younger, well-fed, perfectly-groomed version, the brown hair neatly trimmed to sit above his snow-white shirt collar. His eyes were a hard blue, like Aunt Clara’s – or like her glamour, anyway.
    ‘These are your cousins.’ Aunt Clara nodded, her voice slightly brittle.
    She hates doing this , Lily realised. Bringing us into her house, and endangering him. But she thinks we’re more dangerous at the theatre. She can’t risk us dishonouring her family all over again, if we’re recognised . Lily shivered as the choking magic of the house settled on her shoulders. We mustn’t stay here long. She may not be making spells on purpose any more, but her magic’s all through this house already. It’s going to squash us into perfect little ladies .
    Louis bowed politely, but he didn’t smile, and Henrietta squirmed in Lily’s arms. Lily could tell she didn’t like him. She sighed inwardly. Henrietta was not a tactful dog. She would have to do her best to keep her and Louis away from each other.
    They followed Aunt Clara to a red-painted dining room that made Lily think of raw meat. She wasn’t hungry in the slightest, and she could feel Louis staring at her sideways.
    A tall, thin man strode into the room, and stopped as soon as he saw Lily and Georgie. He peered at them through an eyeglass attached to his waistcoat, and Lily heard Louis snigger. ‘I see you found our little – ah – relatives,’ he said quietly.
    ‘There’s no doubt.’ Aunt Clara sat down at the table, waving Lily and Georgie into seats on the other side. Henrietta hid herself under the snowy tablecloth, glaring at Lily in a way that suggested she expected to be fed too.
    ‘No, I see the resemblance. Dreadful clothes. We will have to engage a governess, I suppose.’ He tucked the eyeglass away, and nodded once at Lily and Georgie, and then proceeded to ignore them for the rest of the meal.
    Georgie was bowed over her plate, toying miserably with a portion of salmon. Lily could see how upset she was. She had made their dresses, with help from Maria.
    Lily was more worried about the idea of a governess. She had never had one, of course, but she had a vague idea that governessing involved learning to speak Talish,