Charmed Life - Diana Wynne Jones [80]
Last of all came Gwendolen. Chrestomanci stopped her too. As he did so, the whiteness cleared, the humming died away, and the rest of the Family began to collect on the sunny hillside, panting a little but not very wet. Cat thought the garden was probably still spinning. But perhaps it always did. Gwendolen stared around in horror.
“Let me go! I’ve got to go back and be queen.”
“Don’t be selfish,” said Chrestomanci. “You’ve no right to keep snatching eight other people from world to world. Stay here and learn how to do it properly. And those courtiers of yours don’t really do what you say, you know. They only pretend.”
“I don’t care!” Gwendolen screamed. She held up her golden clothes, kicked off her pointed shoes, and ran for the archway. Chrestomanci reached out to stop her. Gwendolen spun around and hurled her last handful of dragons’ blood in his face and, while Chrestomanci was forced to duck and put one arm over his face, Gwendolen backed hastily through the archway. There was a mighty bang. The space between the pillars turned black. When everyone recovered, Gwendolen was gone. There was nothing but meadow between the pillars again. Even the pointed shoes had gone.
“What did the child do?” said the old lady with mittens, very shaken.
“Sealed herself in that world,” said Chrestomanci. He was even more shaken. “Isn’t that so, Cat?” he said.
Cat nodded mulishly. It had seemed worth it. He was not sure he wanted to see Gwendolen again.
“And look what that’s done,” said Mr. Saunders, nodding at the hillside.
Janet was stumbling down the slope, past Millie, and she was crying. Millie handed Fiddle carefully to Julia and put her arms around Janet. Janet sobbed heavily. The rest crowded around her. Bernard patted Janet’s back and the old lady with mittens made soothing noises.
Cat stood on his own near the ruins, with the dragon looking inquiringly up at him from the grass. Janet had been happy in her own world. She had missed her mother and father. Now she was probably in this world for good, and Cat had done it. And Chrestomanci had called Gwendolen selfish!
“No, it’s not that, quite, really,” Janet said from the midst of the Family. She tried to sit down on the fallen block of stone, and got up quickly, remembering the way it was being used when she last saw it.
Cat had a very gallant idea. He sent for a blue velvet chair from Gwendolen’s room and put it down on the grass beside Janet. Janet gave a tearful laugh. “That was kind.” She started to sit in it.
“I belong to Chrestomanci Castle,” said the chair. “I belong to Chresto—” Miss Bessemer looked at it sternly and it stopped.
Janet sat in the chair. It was a little wobbly because the grass was uneven. “Where’s Cat?” she said anxiously.
“I’m here,” said Cat. “I got the chair for you.” He thought it was kind of Janet to look so relieved to see him.
“What do you say to a little lunch?” Millie asked Miss Bessemer. “It must be nearly two o’clock.”
“Agreed,” said Miss Bessemer, and made a stately half-turn towards the butler. He nodded. The footman and the gardeners staggered forward with great hampers like laundry baskets which, when the lids were thrown back, proved to be full of chickens, hams, meat pies, ice cream, fruit, and wine.
“Oh, beautiful!” said Roger.
Everyone sat around to eat the lunch. Most of them sat on the grass, and Cat made sure to sit as far away from Will Suggins as he could. Millie sat on the stone slab. Chrestomanci splashed some of the water from the bubbling spring over his face—which seemed to refresh him wonderfully—and sat leaning against the slab. The old lady with mittens produced a tuffet out of nowhere, which she said was more comfortable; and Bernard thoughtfully shook out the remains of the rope that Cat had left by the rock. It became a hammock. Bernard strung it between the pillars of the archway and lay in it, looking defiantly comfortable, even though he had the greatest difficulty keeping his balance and eating as well. Fiddle was given a