Charmed Life - Diana Wynne Jones [10]
“Bowbridge!” shouted a porter, running along the platform. “Bowbridge. The young Chants alight here, please.”
“Young Chants!” Gwendolen said disdainfully. “Can’t they treat me with more respect?” All the same, the attention pleased her. Cat could see that, as she drew on her ladylike gloves, she was shaking with excitement. He cowered behind her as they got out and watched their trunks being tossed out onto the windy platform. Gwendolen marched up to the shouting porter. “We are the young Chants,” she told him magnificently.
It fell a little flat. The porter simply beckoned and scurried away to the entrance lobby, which was windier even than the platform. Gwendolen had to hold her hat on. Here, a young man strode towards them in a billow of flapping coat.
“We are the young Chants,” Gwendolen told him.
“Gwendolen and Eric? Pleased to meet you,” said the young man. “I’m Michael Saunders. I’ll be tutoring you with the other children.”
“Other children?” Gwendolen asked him haughtily. But Mr. Saunders was evidently one of those people who are not good at standing still. He had already darted off to see about their trunks. Gwendolen was a trifle annoyed. But when Mr. Saunders came back and led them outside into the station yard, they found a motor car waiting—long, black, and sleek. Gwendolen forgot her annoyance. She felt this was entirely fitting.
Cat wished it had been a carriage. The car jerked and thrummed and smelled of petrol. He felt sick almost at once. He felt sicker still when they left Bowbridge and thrummed along a winding country road. The only advantage he could see was that the car went very quickly. After only ten minutes, Mr. Saunders said, “Look—there’s Chrestomanci Castle now. You get the best view from here.”
Cat turned his sick face and Gwendolen her fresh one the way he pointed. The Castle was gray and turreted, on the opposite hill. As the road turned, they saw it had a new part, with a spread of big windows, and a flag flying above. They could see grand trees—dark, layered cedars and big elms—and glimpse lawns and flowers.
“It looks marvelous,” Cat said sickly, rather surprised that Gwendolen had said nothing. He hoped the road did not wind too much in getting to the Castle.
It did not. The car flashed around a village green and between big gates. Then there was a long tree-lined avenue, with the great door of the old part of the Castle at the end of it. The car scrunched around on the gravel sweep in front of it. Gwendolen leaned forward eagerly, ready to be first one out. It was clear there would be a butler, and perhaps footmen too. She could hardly wait to make her grand entry.
But the car went on, past the gray, knobbly walls of the old Castle, and stopped at an obscure door where the new part began. It was almost a secretive door. There was a mass of rhododendron trees hiding it from both parts of the Castle.
“I’m taking you in this way,” Mr. Saunders explained cheerfully, “because it’s the door you’ll be using mostly, and I thought it would help you find your way about if you start as you mean to go on.”
Cat did not mind. He thought this door looked more homely. But Gwendolen, cheated of her grand entry, threw Mr. Saunders a seething look and wondered whether to say a most unpleasant spell at him. She decided against it. She was still wanting to give a good impression. They got out of the car and followed Mr. Saunders—whose coat had a way of billowing even when there was no wind—into a square polished passageway indoors. A most imposing lady was waiting there to meet them. She was wearing a tight purple dress and her hair was in a very tall jet-black pile. Cat thought she must be Mrs. Chrestomanci.
“This is Miss Bessemer, the housekeeper,” said Mr. Saunders. “Eric and Gwendolen, Miss Bessemer. Eric’s a bit carsick, I’m afraid.”
Cat had not realized his trouble was so obvious. He was embarrassed. Gwendolen, who was very annoyed to be met by a mere housekeeper, held her hand out coldly to Miss Bessemer.
Miss Bessemer shook hands like an Empress. Cat was just thinking she was the most