Rose 3: Rose and the Magician's Mask Read Free Page A

visiting. And in time for tea,’ he purred.
    Mr Fountain shoved his chair back with a screech, Gus clinging onto his waistcoat and hissing.
    ‘There’ll be no fishpaste sandwiches today. Come on. Both of you, he wants us all there. Good God, how could this have happened? Why didn’t I see it coming? Send for the carriage, Rose, and Freddie, for heaven’s sake brush your hair.’
    ‘What is it?’ Freddie demanded.
    ‘Those damned fools at the palace have mislaid – hah, that’s how he puts it! – mislaid the magician’s mask!’
    From the stricken look in the master’s eyes, and Gus’s bottlebrush-fluffed tail, Rose could tell this was something dreadful, even though she still didn’t understand. She shot out of the workroom, dashed down four flights of stairs and burst into the kitchen, gasping, ‘He needs the carriage, for the palace, can you tell John Coachman, Bill?’
    Miss Bridges stared at Rose over her pince-nez spectacles. ‘Is he taking you with him?’
    Rose nodded, looking down in dismay at her grubby apron and second-best dark wool dress, which she was growing out of.
    ‘You couldn’t do something to it yourself?’ Miss Bridges asked, with just a hint of hope, and an apologetic glance at Mrs Jones, who was holding a copper jelly mould in front of her like a shield.
    ‘I don’t think so,’ Rose said, after thinking frantically for a second. ‘It would be a glamour, and I can’t do those on my own yet.’
    ‘Typical,’ Miss Bridges snapped. ‘No one thinks about appearances in this house. I’ve told the master. Well, we’ll just have to do the best we can.’ She bustled out of the room and came back with an armful of white cambric. ‘I’ve had this put by. I had a feeling something like this would happen. Here, put it on, Rose. And just – well, just try to crouch a little, then your dress won’t seem so shamefully short.’
    Rose dragged off her apron, and Miss Bridges buttoned her into the new pinafore, which had lace trimming the arms, and embroidered flowers around the hem.
    ‘From the look on the master’s face, miss, the king won’t care that I’ve got my old dress on. Something’s wrong, I think. And I do have my good cloak. Thank you, Miss Bridges, for the pinafore, it’s prettier than the princess’s.’
    Even Miss Bridges was not immune to princess gossip, and a small smile curved her lips for a moment.‘Run along, Rose,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t suppose he’s taking Miss Isabella too?’ she asked hopefully.
    ‘He didn’t say so, miss,’ Rose said apologetically, and Miss Bridges sighed. Bella, Mr Fountain’s young daughter, was a terror, particularly when she thought she was being left out of something exciting, and she was expert at avoiding her governess.
    ‘When that little minx starts throwing magic around the place, I shall be looking for a new situation,’ Mrs Jones warned. ‘She’s bad enough on her own. I can’t bear to think of it.’
    Rose nodded, slipping eagerly towards the door. She wondered if she would see the princess again – strangely, she missed Jane, even though pretending to be her had been a rather odd way to get to know someone.

TWO
    Even after living there, the palace was still a breathtaking sight. It reminded Rose of a cake – the sort of fine white wedding cake that the smart confectioners had in their windows, all crusted with swags of sugar icing.
    An anxious-looking young man in an ornate uniform was pacing up and down the mews, clearly waiting for them, and Freddie moaned at the sight of him. ‘Oh, no. Raph’s done something awful again. Look at him, he’s almost green.’
    Raphael Cressy was Freddie’s cousin, an equerry to the king. No one was quite sure how he’d ever been given the post, but Freddie believed it was because his regiment were prepared to lie through their teeth tomake sure he never went near the front line.
    Raph was startlingly beautiful, and so he was useful at the palace in a decorative