Read Online The Door in the Moon by Catherine Fisher - Free Book Online Page B

she had never believed could really exist. She opened the door and went out and stared.
    A great park stretched downhill before her, its green lawns perfectly smooth. Between neat paths, formal gardens were laid out in squares and rectangles, immaculate with parterres of white shell, dark cinders, crushed terracotta gravel. Box trees, cut in precise balls or tidy triangles, stood in containers. Great urns of roses perfumed the summer air, and as she looked up, doves rose in a cloud from the roof of the hothouse.
    â€œMy message was for you to wait inside!”
    Sarah turned.
    The thin Englishman was back; with a shock she realized that he could see her.
    Behind him a château, a vast white sugar-icing palace rose against the blue sky, its windows perfect, its symmetrical steps leading up to a pillared colonnade.
    He glanced around. Grabbing her arm, he hustled her back into the steamy greenhouse. “Bloody stupid girl!” He hurried to the Conjurer automaton and pulled a parcel from under its seat. “These are your clothes. Your contact in the kitchen is the woman called Madame Lepage. She’s in the plot. Get changed, quickly.”
    She said, “But you. You’re—”
    â€œLong Tom. I’m inside too, with the metal puppets. You know all about the plan? You can do what we need?”
    Baffled, she said, “Of course . . . But—”
    â€œGood. Then hurry! Get dressed now.”
    He shoved the parcel at her; she took it and ducked between the giant leaves.
    The Scribe automata watched her with its vacant glass eyes; she wished it could truly answer questions because she had absolutely no idea at all what was going on here. Opening the parcel, she found the dark plain dress of a kitchen maid, a white apron, a frilly cap. As she changed quickly, bundling her own clothes into the bag, she said, “You snatched the boy Jake, didn’t you?”
    â€œHow the hell do you know about that?”
    â€œI heard . . . talk.”
    â€œYes, we got him.” The tall man laughed. “Went straight in and kidnapped him from his bed. Arrogant brat too. Don’t know why she was so keen.”
    Sarah paused, half buttoned. “She?”
    â€œSome sort of twisted revenge, maybe? Some joke? You never know with our little contessa. Are you done?”
    She hurried out, breathless.
    â€œWhy is your hair so short!” He glanced at her, anxious. “Well, maybe the cap hides that . . . Remember, your name is Adelie, you’re madame’s niece, just here tonight to help for the Midsummer Ball.”
    She said, “I don’t know a word of French.”
    Long Tom swore a lurid oath. “Where in hell’s dregs did they find you? Then just keep your mouth shut.
Okay?
”
    Bewildered, she nodded. “Okay,” she said.
    As he turned swiftly toward the château, she said, panicking, “About the ball . . .”
    He glanced back. “The vicomte’s invited half of Paris. You know what to do. The door in the moon has to be open by the stroke of midnight. Don’t forget.” He pulled his hat on, wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. “Too hot here. Too dangerous. We must be mad.”
    Then he was gone, a flicker in the brilliant sunlight.
    Sarah smoothed her dress with shaky hands. All right. Think. They—whoever they were—had mistaken her for some other girl. They could
journey
. They had the mirror, and at least one bracelet. And they were planning something for the Midsummer Ball, something that involved Jake.
    Which meant, presumably, that they would be bringing him here.
    To do what? What was this plot? To steal something? Murder someone?
    She looked up. The glorious confection of the château stood serene under its blue sky. But a few miles back there, in Paris, the crowds were screaming around the guillotine. Blood was running in the gutters, and mobs roaming the streets. How long