The Autumn Castle (24 page)

Mayfridh sipped the tea. Too sweet. “It’s perfect,” she said, wary of her mother’s fluttering anxiety. No need for a
believe
spell. Diana already believed it all.

Diana sat opposite her and pulled her teacup and saucer into her lap.

“Do you . . . live here alone?” Mayfridh asked.

Her mother frowned. “I expect you’re wondering what’s happened to your father.”

“Yes.”

“He’s not dead. But he’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

Diana shook her head. “It’s such a long time since you disappeared. How old are you now? Twenty-five?”

“Thirty-one. I’ve been gone nearly twenty-five years.”

“Thirty-one. A grown woman!”

Where Mayfridh came from, she was considered barely out of adolescence. “I suppose I am.”

“But now you’re back. I knew you’d be back, just as soon as you could be.” Diana smiled, revealing stained teeth. The years
had been unkind to her. The skin on her face was as dull and lined as old paper, her eyes gray and hooded. Her smile disturbed
Mayfridh. Eisengrimm’s words were wiser by the moment.
Your mother and father have suffered enough. Do not make them lose you twice.

“How did you know I’d be back?” Mayfridh asked gently.

“Because I prayed for it every day, and because God is kind to those who are patient.”

“How did you know I’d been taken by faeries?”

“Because I knew the faery who took you. Queen Liesebet.”

“You knew my mother?” As soon as the question was loose, Mayfridh wanted to recall it. Diana’s face crumpled.

“Yes. I expect you think of her as your mother now.”

“She’s dead. Both my . . . faery parents are dead.”

“Is that why you came to find me?”

“I came to find you because I missed you,” Mayfridh replied, and it was the truth.

Diana’s face glowed with pleasure. “As I missed you, dear child. As I missed you.”

“Where is my father?”

“Back in England. Married to a vet named Ruth. They have two teenagers, boys.”

“He left you here?”

“I chose to stay.”

Mayfridh shook her head, setting her teacup on the table. “Mum, you’ll have to explain it all.”

“About your father leaving?” she asked, with a furrow of her weary brow.

“About me leaving. About Liesebet.”

Diana dipped her head sadly. “Yes, yes, I should explain. I was careless, May. I didn’t mean to lose you.”

“Of course not.” Then, when her mother remained silent, Mayfridh prompted her softly: “Go on.”

Diana took a deep breath, leaned forward. “Do you know the reason your father and I brought you to Berlin?”

Mayfridh shook her head.

“Of course you don’t. You were too little. James was very ill, May. He was being eaten alive by stomach cancer. The doctors
back in Maidstone had given up on him, told him to expect six months at the most.”

Mayfridh was aghast. “How could I not have known this?”

“We kept it from you. We protected you. We still hoped that he would live, and . . . we couldn’t tell you. What words would
I have used? How much of your beautiful spark would I have extinguished by telling you? May, we tried for years to have you.
And we tried for years after to have a brother or sister for you. But we were only blessed once. You were so precious, your
smile kept your father’s spirits up. We couldn’t have told you, it would have ruined you.”

“So you came to Berlin for Dad’s health?”

“Yes. A doctor here was famed for his experimental cancer treatments and his promising success rate. James left the army,
and we sold everything to move. At first, it was worth every penny, every trouble. You settled in quickly and found a friend
next door, and James responded well to the treatment. For nearly six months, my heart lifted every day. Soon after, it began
to sink again.

“A routine test revealed the cancer had spread to his pancreas. The situation was dire.” Diana shook her head. “I believed
it might be all over. You may remember this, May. You walked into our bedroom one Saturday morning, early. Your father was
in pain and slept poorly, so we were often awake before the sun had risen. We were lying in each other’s arms, crying, and
you came in and you took one look at us and started crying too.”

Mayfridh nodded slowly. “Yes, I remember that.”

“You were so distressed and you wouldn’t stop asking us what was wrong and if everything was all right. So James took you
for a drive to—”

“The pet shop! That was the day we bought Mabel.”

“Yes, James bought you a puppy, hoping to take your mind off us. It appeared to work. You soon forgot seeing us crying, and
your father was so cheered by your delight with Mabel that his pain eased for a week or so.

“But I had so little hope left in me by this time. I had prayed and prayed, and my prayers had been ignored and time was running
out. I was desperate; I was clinging to a thread, trying to be a good mother to you, a good wife to James. I was drowning.”

Diana fell silent, and Mayfridh watched her for long moments; her deeply lined face, her dull gray hair, her cheerless eyes.
Mayfridh said nothing, waiting. A clock ticked in the kitchen, a flat thin pulse in the dusty room.

“One Wednesday afternoon,” Diana said slowly, raising her head again, “you were next door at the Starlights’ house, and I
was vacuuming the carpet. I came downstairs to find your father motionless on the sofa. I thought the terrible moment was
upon me, that he was dead. But no, there was the slow movement of his chest, and I found myself staring at him, imagining
his breath stilled forever. The awful reality of his approaching mortality fell on me like a weight. The horror was so acute
that I nearly screamed. I struggled to be free of it, but I was mercilessly trapped inside my mind and inside my body. James
would die. Inescapable.

“I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand there looking at him, losing my mind. I dropped the vacuum cleaner and I strode
out of the room and to the door and out of the house and to the front gate where Mabel danced about my feet, thinking I was
taking her to the park. I left her behind the gate, whimpering and yapping indignantly. I was a soul trapped in the electric
moment of horror, and I walked away from the house and the street. A short time later, I found myself in the big park near
your old kindergarten. I don’t know if you remember it?”

“Yes, I do.”

“It was empty. The sun was close to setting, and people were in their homes, cooking their meals, watching their favorite
television programs. Not another soul in sight. I sat on the grass and then collapsed forward, and I sobbed and sobbed and
sobbed.

“I truly believe I would have kept crying, perhaps until my lungs burst, if it hadn’t been for the sound of a soft breath
nearby. I gathered myself and looked up. Standing before me was a beautiful blond woman in a white sparkling robe, and her
hair braided with white ribbon.”

“Liesebet,” Mayfridh said, fondly remembering her faery mother. “She’d come from the Winter Castle.”

“She came from nowhere. I hadn’t heard her approach. And the otherworldly smile on her face . . . May, I thought she was an
angel. I thought God had sent me an angel.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, in hesitant German, ‘Tell me your woes, and it may be in my power to ease them.’” Diana smiled. “I’d hardly expected
one of God’s angels to speak German. I always assumed they were British.”

Mayfridh laughed. Outside, the clouds had parted and a weak ray of sunshine probed the window, lighting on a stained-glass
bird hanging from the sill.

Diana sighed and steepled her hands together. “I told her everything. While I spoke, she watched me with a very fixed and
piercing gaze.”

“I know that gaze,” Mayfridh said. Liesebet had possessed a special talent for mind-reading. In the moment Diana was describing,
the faery queen had been pulling thoughts from her mind.

“When I had finished, she said, ‘I will grant you your husband’s returned health, but in payment, you must promise to give
me the first thing that greets you when you return home.’ I considered this for a few moments. You were with the Starlights
intending to stay the night, James was asleep on the sofa, and Mabel was waiting at the gate. Did I dare to promise her this
payment?

“‘I grow weary of waiting for your answer,’ she said. ‘Do you agree to the terms of payment?’

“I nodded. I said, ‘Yes,’ and she smiled and told me that my husband would be well very soon, but that I must return to her
at the same time the next day to pay her. I agreed, and I ran home. I ran through the park and down the main road and up our
street and . . . and I saw movement near the gate of the Starlights’ house and began to panic. I knew I needed to get home
while Mabel was still waiting, before I saw you or James or the Starlights’ little girl, Christine, or anyone but the dog.
Then I saw you . . . you were coming home to fetch your favorite teddy. I saw the back of your head. You hadn’t seen me yet,
and I began to sprint, to get to the gate and the puppy before you turned around.

“Just as I reached the edge of our garden, you turned. You saw me. You smiled and put your arms out and you ran toward me
and grabbed me around the hips and said, ‘Hello, Mummy, where have you been?’” Diana’s eyes had filled with tears. One of
them spilled over and ran down her dry cheek, pausing on the tip of her chin. “Dear child, you weren’t to know.”

Mayfridh listened, entranced.

“I bundled you inside, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t give you up, that I would find a way to keep you. I even started
to think that perhaps the woman in the park was ordinary and mad and the agreement with her meant nothing. But before that
evening was over, color returned to James’s cheek and his appetite grew, and he declared he was feeling very well, and I knew
that the angel was real and that James would recover.

“I didn’t sleep that night, though James slept soundly next to me. I decided that I would take Mabel to the park the next
afternoon. The puppy was all I intended to give away, and that would be the end of it. The woman in white hadn’t seen me.
She couldn’t know that you were the first thing that greeted me.” She paused, her lip caught between her teeth. “Foolish,
I suppose.”

“Liesebet knew,” Mayfridh said softly.

“Oh yes, she knew. Yes, I understand that now. I returned to the park with the puppy, and sat in the same spot and waited
for her. She arrived moments later, this time with a crow perched on her forearm as though it were a pet, a splash of black
against her dazzling white dress. She wore such a look of triumph and disdain that I started to suspect she wasn’t an angel
at all, but something vastly different.

“‘Here, take the dog,’ I said, not giving her a chance to speak.

“‘Is this the first thing that greeted you on your return home yesterday?’

“‘Yes,’ I said, avoiding her gaze.

“Then the most incredible thing. The crow parted its beak and spoke. ‘She lies, Liesebet. The first thing that greeted her
on her return was her daughter. I saw her.’

“‘Is this true?’ Liesebet said, fixing me with her cold eyes.

“‘Take the puppy,’ I said, holding out Mabel who wriggled and whimpered. ‘I won’t give you my daughter.’

“‘We made an agreement,’ Liesebet said.

“‘I no longer wish to be part of the agreement.’

“‘I have cured your husband.’

“I took a deep breath. I had been afraid it would come to this. ‘Then take back the cure. My daughter is more precious to
me than my husband.’

“Liesebet pointed a finger at me and stood very still for several moments. I didn’t breathe the whole time. Then she said,
‘The cure will not be taken back. You will fulfill your part of the bargain.’

“‘I won’t give up my daughter.’ My heart raced and my hands shook, and Mabel wriggled her way free and dashed across the park.

“‘Why not?’

“‘Because she’s my daughter.’

“‘No,’ she said, very coolly. ‘She is my daughter. Eisengrimm, do you agree?’

“‘The girl is clearly your daughter, Liesebet. Our kingdom is very blessed.’

“‘You hear that?
My
little girl, who will be heir to my throne. Bring her to me tomorrow, here at the same time. Good-bye.’ She turned and strode
off, the crow flapping behind her. I watched them go, and I vowed I would never give you up.”

Here, Diana stopped speaking for long minutes. Outside, the sun disappeared behind a cloud. Mayfridh placed her empty teacup
on the table and curled her legs underneath her. Her mother’s face was a sad record of years spent alone, never expressing
this story. Yet it was also the beloved face of her mother remembered from childhood, cherished unconditionally. She felt
her heart swerve. To forget Diana again was to render this story once again unheard, to reiterate every line of sorrow that
etched her mother’s face. When time spun out and still Diana didn’t speak, Mayfridh prompted her: “How did they get me?”

Diana shook her head, as if shaking herself out of a daze. She smiled, a sad eager smile. “You’re back,” she said. “That’s
all that matters.”

“No, tell me.”

Diana’s thin, cotton-clad chest rose in a sigh. “I didn’t go near that park again. For weeks, I heard nothing from Liesebet.
James recovered. It all seemed like a bad dream, something my mind created at its lowest ebb. I became obsessive about you,
of course. I wouldn’t let you out of my sight; I locked your window every night. I even wanted to lock your bedroom door but
James put a stop to it. If I tried to tell him about Liesebet, he would shake his head and say the shock of his illness had
addled me, and that I would be feeling well enough soon. I urged him to return to England, but he insisted that it was the
experimental treatment he was receiving—rather than magic—that was making him better. He wouldn’t leave, he was too afraid
of growing ill again.

“I tried to behave normally. I tried to believe James when he said I was suffering a nervous problem, that I was afraid of
an hallucination. Until the morning I saw that . . . thing.”