Goodly and Grave in a Case of Bad Magic. Justine Windsor

explained. “You see, although child magicians can of course use magic, it’s generally not allowed unless they are in their own home or another magician’s home and are being supervised by an adult. There’s simply too much that could go wrong. This little contraption gives the alert if a child is breaking the rules. Of course they could be clever enough to make their magic undetectable, but they would have to be exceptionally talented.”

      The golden star began jiggling even more wildly.

      “Can it tell you who’s doing the magic? Or where?” Lucy asked.

      Lord Grave shook his head. “It covers a radius of some two hundred miles, but it can’t pin down an exact location or identify the culprit. But I would wager that it has something to do with today’s events. The last time that machine went off on a regular basis was a couple of months ago, when you were being a little wayward with magic, Lucy. That’s what set me off looking for you.”

      Lucy felt her face grow warm. When she’d first met Lord Grave, she’d been using a magical playing card to win poker games, although at the time she had thought it was simply some sort of trick card. Lord Grave had brought her to Grave Hall so that she could learn to use magic properly.

      Her embarrassment increased when Beguildy Beguildy made an exaggerated tutting noise and wagged his forefinger in an admonishing manner. Lucy and Beguildy weren’t exactly the best of friends. However, he had rescued her from a stressful situation during the Jerome Wormwood investigation, so now she was trying to be a little more tolerant of him and vice versa. Admittedly, this could be a challenge at times on both sides.

      “Let’s get back to business,” Lord Grave continued. “Percy, Sibyl, can you describe the children who attacked you?”

      “I didn’t get a good look at them,” Lady Sibyl said. “Percy?”

      Lord Percy grunted and opened his eyes. He’d been nodding off, his head drooping towards the table. “Sorry, what?”

      “The children. Can you describe them?” Lord Grave said.

      “Oh, well. Let me think. The girl wore a cloak. Hood up. Couldn’t see her face. The boy … Tattoo on his neck, under his ear. Looked like a bluebird.” Lord Percy’s head began to droop again.

      “A tattoo?” Lord Grave said. He puffed excitedly on his unlit cigar. “We could have a lead here. Do you all remember the Hard Times Hall fiasco?”

      “Hard Times Hall! Yes, you could be on to something, George,” Lady Sibyl said, nodding her head vigorously. The peacock feathers she wore in her hair bobbed up and down as if in agreement.

      “What’s Hard Times Hall?” Lucy asked.

      “An orphanage for magical children. Wait a moment.” Lord Grave left the table and went over to a large wooden chest. He lifted the lid to reveal a mass of papers inside. Although they looked rather haphazard, they must have been in some sort of order as Lord Grave soon managed to locate what he needed. He pulled out some newspaper pages. They were slightly yellowed and when Lucy looked closely she saw they were from an edition of the Penny Dreadful and dated the year before. Lord Grave always called the Penny a “frightful old rag” but nevertheless he seemed to be one of its most loyal readers and had an extensive collection of back copies. Lord Grave spread the pages in front of Lucy and Bertie.

      “You own an orphanage, Father?” Bertie asked in astonishment.

      Lord Grave waved his hand dismissively. “As far as the Penny and the rest of the non-magical world is concerned, I do. But in truth it belongs to the whole of the magical community. It’s where we look after magical children who have no one else to care for them. But all that’s by the by. The point here is those children who escaped. About a dozen of ’em, have never been found. Or perhaps not found until now.”

      Lord Grave pointed at the drawings of the Hard Times Hall escapees. “Percy, this boy with curly hair, he has a bluebird tattoo on his neck, do you see? Is it the same boy?”

      Lord Percy had to be prodded awake by Beguildy Beguildy. He stared intently at the drawings that accompanied the article, as though he was finding it difficult to focus. “Yes. He looked a little older than he is here, but yes, that’s him.”

      “Sibyl? Do you recognise the boy too? Or these other children?”

      “As I said, I didn’t manage more than a glimpse of any of them. I was too concerned about dear Percy.”

      Lady Sibyl wasn’t the only one to be concerned about dear Lord Percy. The rest of MAAM looked at him in alarm as he began swaying gently in his seat, as though being blown by an invisible wind, his eyes were closing again.

      “Oh dear. I must admit I’m not feeling very well,” he muttered.

      “I think we’d better get you into a nice warm bed,” Lord Grave said. “Vonk, is Lord Percy’s room ready?”

      Vonk stepped forward from the corner where he had been quietly standing. He often stayed on hand when there was a MAAM meeting going on, in case anything was needed. “Yes, I believe so.”

      “I would like a brief lie-down, I must admit,” Lord Percy said. He tried to stand up, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to be able to make it out of the room and up the stairs to bed under his own steam. Vonk hurried off to fetch Mrs Crawley, who soon bore Lord Percy away upstairs to bed in her strong and beefy arms.