She filled a glass with water and, when she noticed a line of light creeping across the tiles from beneath the back door, decided to take it outside with her.
Everything was better beneath the big blue sky, and Lucy walked bare-footed across the dew-damp grass. When she reached the corner of the house she closed her eyes and tilted her face towards the morning sun. It was only nine o’clock, but already it held the promise of heat to come.
‘Good morning, Little Radcliffe.’ Lucy opened her eyes and saw Thurston sitting on Edward’s iron peacock chair, smiling around his cigarette. ‘Come and sit with Uncle Thurston. I might even let you hold my rifle if you’re a very good girl.’
Lucy shook her head and stayed where she was.
He laughed, lifting the weapon to take casual aim at a sparrow that had alit briefly on the wisteria arbour. He mimed pulling the trigger.
‘You shouldn’t shoot the birds.’
‘There are many things in life one shouldn’t do, Lucy. And they’re usually the things one most enjoys.’ He lowered the weapon. ‘Big day ahead for you.’
Lucy did not know what he meant but did not wish to give him the pleasure of hearing her say so. Instead, she eyed him coolly and waited for him to continue.
‘Bet you didn’t imagine you’d be modelling this summer.’
With everything that had happened since, Lucy had forgotten Felix’s suggestion of the night before, his determination to make a photographic plate based on the tale of the Eldritch Children.
‘Little Lucy the stunner. Have you been practising your poses?’
‘No.’
‘Good girl. Natural is better. I’ve tried to tell Clare. The most beautiful people are those who don’t care enough to try.’
‘Is Felix planning to take the photograph today?’
‘There was much excited talk of capturing light earlier.’
‘Where are the others?’
Thurston stood up and used the barrel of his rifle to indicate towards the attic. ‘Raking through the costume chest.’ He tucked the weapon under his arm and brushed past Lucy on his way towards the kitchen.
‘Emma’s not in there.’
‘So I heard.’
Lucy wondered what else he’d heard. She called after him: ‘Do you know where she is?’
‘Ill at home in bed. A messenger came this morning, someone from the village – she won’t be in today and we are all to fend for ourselves.’
Lucy found the others in the attic, where, just as Thurston had said, they were busy pulling costumes from the large trunk, trying on flowing dresses, cinching them with ribbons at the waist, and talking animatedly about how best to weave garlands for their hair. The novelty of her inclusion made Lucy shy, and she hovered in the corner near the top of the stairs, as she waited to be invited closer.
‘We should make sure that they match,’ Clare was saying to Adele.
‘But not exactly. Each of the Eldritch Children would have a different type of magic.’
‘Would they?’
‘We could show it through the use of different flowers. I’ll be a rose; you can be a honeysuckle.’
‘And Lucy?’
‘Whatever she likes. I don’t know – a daisy, perhaps. Something befitting. Don’t you think, darling?’
‘Yes, yes, wonderful!’ Felix, only half-listening, was nonetheless ecstatic in his response. He was by the window, holding a piece of fine gauze up to the light, squinting first one eye and then the other as he considered its effect.
Lily Millington, Lucy noticed, was not present. Neither was Fanny or Edward.
Adele took Clare by the hand and together they brushed past Lucy’s corner in a giddy rush. ‘Come on, slowcoach,’ Clare called back from halfway down the stairs. ‘You need to make a garland, too.’
Some of the roses were a little the worse for wear after the previous night’s rain, their delicate petals littering the grass, but there had been such an abundance to start with that the garland-makers were still spoiled for choice.
Along the stone wall that bordered the orchard were a number of daisy bushes, and Lucy picked a selection of the pink, white and yellow flowers, keeping the stems long enough that she was able to sit upon a dry patch of grass afterwards and braid them together. The garland would not keep for long, but Lucy was happy with her progress. She couldn’t think that she had ever made such a thing before, and in any other context she would have thought the occupation a frivolous waste of time. But this was different. Lucy had been uncertain about being part of Felix’s photograph; now she realised that she was starting to feel excited. She would never have admitted it to anyone else – she wasn’t even able to explain the feeling properly to herself – but being part of the photograph made Lucy feel more like a real person than she had before.
Lily Millington had joined them in the garden and was sitting quietly to weave her own garland; Lucy, stealing glances from where she was sitting cross-legged by the daisy bush, noticed that a slight frown pulled at her brows. Thurston, too, had gathered his sketchbook and pens and was now helping Felix to assemble the glass plates and collodion, ready to carry them with the camera and tent to the woods. Only Edward and Fanny were missing, and Lucy wondered whether they were having the ‘talk’ that Edward had promised as he shepherded her up to bed the night before.
Felix said that the light would be best in the middle of the day, when the sun was at its strongest, and everything was geared towards his decree.
For the rest of her life, Lucy would remember the way the others looked, dressed in their garlands and costumes as they made their way through the long meadow grasses towards the woods. Sprays of wildflowers peppered the grass and rustled when the light breeze blew warmly across their tops.
They had passed the barn with the threshing machine inside it and had almost made it as far as the river, when the cry came from behind them: ‘Wait for me. I want to be in the photograph.’
They turned around and saw Fanny stalking towards them. Edward was close on her heels, a stormy look upon his face.
‘I want to be in the photograph,’ she said again, drawing near. ‘I want to be the Fairy Queen.’
Felix, the wooden tripod balanced on his shoulder, shook his head, confused. ‘I need Lily as the Fairy Queen; it has to be the same as Edward’s painting. I want them to stand as companion pieces. How better to demonstrate that photography and painting are on a level? But Fanny can be one of the princesses.’
‘We’re engaged to be married, Edward. I should be the Fairy Queen from your story.’
Lily glanced at Edward. ‘Of course she should.’
‘I didn’t ask you to speak,’ said Fanny, with a curl of her lip. ‘You’re paid to stand there and look vacant. I was talking to my fiancé.’
‘Fanny,’ said Edward, a note of controlled caution in his voice, ‘I told you—’
‘I’m going to lose the perfect light,’ said Felix, with some desperation. ‘I need Lily as the Queen, but Fanny, you can be the front-most child. Clare and Adele, one either side.’
‘But Felix—’
‘Adele, that’s enough. The light!’
‘Lucy,’ said Clare, ‘give your garland to Fanny so that we can get started.’
Within a fraction of a second, Lucy took in the faces of Clare, Edward, Lily Millington, Felix and Fanny, all now staring straight at her, and then, without a word, she started to run.
‘Lucy, wait!’
But Lucy didn’t wait. She tossed her garland to the ground and kept running like a little girl, all the way back towards the house.