course, most schoolgirls can’t bond with a pegasus in two seconds flat. Rosalind is going to be fine.
Rosalind looks like she’s been handed the key to a blue castle in the sky for a moment. Then her face falls. “It’s nearly dark. We have to be back at supper in half an hour.”
“There’s a good hour of twilight left, and Sunshine has excellent night vision,” Miss Roberts says briskly. “I’ll give you some tea when you get back, and ring up Miss Carroll so she won’t fret. You’re in her house, too? Right, then. You might get a mild scolding, that’s all. All right, Charley?”
I hesitate for a moment, thinking of the Senior Prefect badge on my collar. It won’t go down well if we miss supper, even with Miss Roberts putting a word in for us. I know it’s not a good example to set for the babes.
On the other hand, I’ve been good all term, so very good. This is the first time I’ve slipped out without permission. I’ve coached the little ones, I’ve overseen prep and detention, I’ve backed Cecily up in everything. Surely I can be forgiven one small breakout. Especially since, I tell myself, I’m doing exactly what Cecily asked me to do.
“I’m game if Rosalind is.”
Rosalind is quiet for a moment, obviously weighing it up in her mind. Then her mouth curves in the sweet smile that completely changes her pointed face.
“I’m game.”
We change quickly into our riding gear, eager not to waste what remains of the light.
Rosalind looks much older with her hair coiled under a bowler for riding, instead of in two childish plaits. Still a slight figure, just not the middle former I had at first taken her to be. It surprises me so much that, as we prepare to mount, I ask her how old she is.
“I turn nineteen at half term.” She flushes at my astonishment, her translucent skin changing colour easily. “I know I’m small for my age.”
“You’re almost a year older than me!” I bite my lip, realising that I’m still showing too much incredulity. Somehow, it turns around all my ideas of her, knowing she’s probably the oldest girl in the school. “What made you come to Fernleigh so late?”
“I haven’t been at school at all for two years,” she says, concentrating on fastening buckles. “I was badly ill, with pneumonia, and I just didn’t seem to get better.” For some reason, her colour deepens still more. Perhaps it’s because she hates talking about herself; this is the most I’ve heard her say about herself in all those evenings in the study. “When I got better, Mother was determined I have at least one more year of education before going to finishing school. My doctor said the outlook was healthier here than my old school. He has a daughter in the Fourth, you see. So… here I am. I can’t do games, but I can ride, and I’ve been very much better.”
“You seem well,” I say. I’ve never noticed her cough or wheeze. I’m a little foggy on how pneumonia affects someone, especially for so long, without leaving them with at least some kind of hacking cough. She is pale enough, when she’s not blushing. Perhaps it was depression, or nerves. I’ve heard that can come after a bad dose of the ‘flu, and probably pneumonia is much the same. None of my family, who all enjoy the rudest of health, are prone to that kind of complaint, but Rosalind seems a much more sensitive type.
“Yes. I suppose so.” She tugs at a lock of hair that has come loose under her hat, twirling it around her finger. “Shall we?”
We make our way up the cliff school path, which is wide enough to ride abreast. It’s forbidden to go too far off the paths; Cornwall still has, according to rumour, full dragons somewhere in the caves by the waters, and there are other things to worry about. Pixies, of course, and reports of other malicious things I’ve never sensed for myself. There’s also a lot of hunting here, mostly of unicorns and dragonlings, and the pointed-eared beast-hunting
Rosalind looks like she’s been handed the key to a blue castle in the sky for a moment. Then her face falls. “It’s nearly dark. We have to be back at supper in half an hour.”
“There’s a good hour of twilight left, and Sunshine has excellent night vision,” Miss Roberts says briskly. “I’ll give you some tea when you get back, and ring up Miss Carroll so she won’t fret. You’re in her house, too? Right, then. You might get a mild scolding, that’s all. All right, Charley?”
I hesitate for a moment, thinking of the Senior Prefect badge on my collar. It won’t go down well if we miss supper, even with Miss Roberts putting a word in for us. I know it’s not a good example to set for the babes.
On the other hand, I’ve been good all term, so very good. This is the first time I’ve slipped out without permission. I’ve coached the little ones, I’ve overseen prep and detention, I’ve backed Cecily up in everything. Surely I can be forgiven one small breakout. Especially since, I tell myself, I’m doing exactly what Cecily asked me to do.
“I’m game if Rosalind is.”
Rosalind is quiet for a moment, obviously weighing it up in her mind. Then her mouth curves in the sweet smile that completely changes her pointed face.
“I’m game.”
We change quickly into our riding gear, eager not to waste what remains of the light.
Rosalind looks much older with her hair coiled under a bowler for riding, instead of in two childish plaits. Still a slight figure, just not the middle former I had at first taken her to be. It surprises me so much that, as we prepare to mount, I ask her how old she is.
“I turn nineteen at half term.” She flushes at my astonishment, her translucent skin changing colour easily. “I know I’m small for my age.”
“You’re almost a year older than me!” I bite my lip, realising that I’m still showing too much incredulity. Somehow, it turns around all my ideas of her, knowing she’s probably the oldest girl in the school. “What made you come to Fernleigh so late?”
“I haven’t been at school at all for two years,” she says, concentrating on fastening buckles. “I was badly ill, with pneumonia, and I just didn’t seem to get better.” For some reason, her colour deepens still more. Perhaps it’s because she hates talking about herself; this is the most I’ve heard her say about herself in all those evenings in the study. “When I got better, Mother was determined I have at least one more year of education before going to finishing school. My doctor said the outlook was healthier here than my old school. He has a daughter in the Fourth, you see. So… here I am. I can’t do games, but I can ride, and I’ve been very much better.”
“You seem well,” I say. I’ve never noticed her cough or wheeze. I’m a little foggy on how pneumonia affects someone, especially for so long, without leaving them with at least some kind of hacking cough. She is pale enough, when she’s not blushing. Perhaps it was depression, or nerves. I’ve heard that can come after a bad dose of the ‘flu, and probably pneumonia is much the same. None of my family, who all enjoy the rudest of health, are prone to that kind of complaint, but Rosalind seems a much more sensitive type.
“Yes. I suppose so.” She tugs at a lock of hair that has come loose under her hat, twirling it around her finger. “Shall we?”
We make our way up the cliff school path, which is wide enough to ride abreast. It’s forbidden to go too far off the paths; Cornwall still has, according to rumour, full dragons somewhere in the caves by the waters, and there are other things to worry about. Pixies, of course, and reports of other malicious things I’ve never sensed for myself. There’s also a lot of hunting here, mostly of unicorns and dragonlings, and the pointed-eared beast-hunting
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