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The Secret of Meadow Hill Manor

Chapter 1

Amethyst crooked her finger and beckoned the Peacock butterflies. They were sitting on the stone windowsill, underneath their stained-glass window. When they weren't flying, most of her butterflies liked to perch on their windowsills. The only exceptions to this were the Meadow Browns, who had taken a liking to the blue ottoman at the foot of her bed, and a lone Peacock, which travelled everywhere with her. 

The butterflies, sensing they might be called upon, rose as one, and the air thickened with their magic. The tinkling sounds of their tiny glass wings filled the room, and Amethyst felt their excitement grow. 

“Just the Peacocks this morning,” she said. “You can’t all come, Aunt Mina might hear.” The energy in the room dropped slightly and most of the butterflies fluttered obediently back to their windowsills. The Meadow Browns landed gracefully back on their ottoman. But the Peacocks, eager for action, looped and swirled about her head. Amethyst lifted her long, dark hair and ushered them into her tangles. She would need to go past her aunt’s rooms and Aunt Mina still didn’t fully approve of the butterflies. With all ten Peacocks safely hidden in her hair, she glanced at the remaining butterflies and the photograph of Ruby. “Wish us luck!” she said.

She stepped into the dark, windowless corridor outside her room. She was high in the roof space of the manor and could just make out the exposed wooden rafters above. It was calm this morning and the rafters were silent. On windy days the old wood creaked and chattered. The noise might scare some, but she found it oddly comforting. The lighting here was poor, but she knew her way well. She went down the first narrow staircase and reached the floor below. She used to have a bedroom on this floor. Had that really been only six months ago? 

Ingrid’s rooms were on this floor now, though she was not currently in them. She would be sitting a few floors below in the library, which was exactly where Amethyst was headed. She jogged the next flight of stairs, running her hand along the rough stone walls and occasionally tickling one of the tapestries that hung throughout the manor. She loved these old pieces of art and had spent many hours looking at the scenes they depicted. Some showed images of hunting or of ancient battles with spears and arrows, but most had been made in celebration of her butterflies. They were filled with colourful flowers, intricate patterns, and showed scenes honouring their history and magic. She passed her favourite tapestry. It showed the clockmaker and his wife, the beautiful enchantress, in a scene showing the creation of the butterflies. The enchantress featured in many of the tapestries. She was easy to recognise with her long plait and green gown. Amethyst had no time to stop and admire it now though. This morning was about Ingrid. 

On the floor below, she reminded the Peacocks to keep still then walked quietly past her aunt’s rooms. Her aunt had a whole suite of rooms on the eastern side of the manor’s first floor including a bedroom, bathroom and a study. Amethyst knew the study well. 

“Is that you, dear?” called her aunt. She paused. Unlucky. Her aunt was a freelance writer who wrote articles for various journals and magazines. Her specialist subject was property law, and she was almost always buried in her work. She detoured into her aunt’s study. As usual, she found her surrounded by stacks of papers and books. Her computer, which had recently replaced her old typewriter, sat in the centre of her desk and a fire crackled in the hearth nearby. It was always warm in her aunt’s rooms. 

Aunt Mina was a tall lady with long greying hair and a friendly face. She had deep blue eyes and was always wearing woolly jumpers, no matter what the temperature or season. She couldn’t resist buying them and Amethyst rarely saw her wear the same jumper twice. She’d once joked with Gillian that her aunt needed to live in a manor-sized house just to store all her jumpers. Tonight, Aunt Mina was wearing a pale brown jumper with a pink pattern that zig-zagged around the cuffs.

“Hey Aunt Mina,” she said. Her aunt’s name was Wilhelmina, named after a distant Dutch relative, but no one called her that. Instead, she was known as either Wilma or Mina. Amethyst preferred Mina, mostly because her father had always referred to his sister as Weirdo Wilma. She hoped her aunt didn’t know about this nickname.

“You all ready for school tomorrow?” asked her aunt.

“Yes,” lied Amethyst. Summer term started tomorrow. She still had a few more items to pack and some finishing touches to add to a book review, but there was plenty of time to do all that. Right now, she wanted to help Ingrid. 

“Good, good,” said her aunt, nodding. “It’s good to be organised.” Amethyst thought this was an interesting comment considering the disarray that surrounded the room. Her aunt settled back and gestured to the chair opposite. Their armchair chats had become a daily habit. She glanced at the comfy blue chair. Tempting.

“I’ll come back,” she said. “Just want to check on Ingrid.”

“Oh yes, the big application!” said her aunt. One of the Peacocks slipped out of Amethyst's hair, revealing itself with a flash of red wings and a tinkle of sound. Her aunt raised her eyebrows but then winked.

“Good idea,” she said, her voice conspiratorial. Amethyst smiled. Her aunt was actually approving of butterfly magic. There was hope yet. 

She reached the ground floor and stood at the base of the stairs listening. Her hand traced the wooden butterflies carved into the banister and a few of the Peacocks pulled themselves free from her hair. They fluttered above, their wings clinking softly in the cool air. She didn’t shush them now. She didn’t need to. Ingrid couldn’t hear them. Sunlight spilled out of the library and onto the hallway floor. Even on sunny days the hallway was cool and dimly lit. From inside the library, she could hear the tapping of keys and the odd sigh. Ingrid was hard at work. 

“OK, are you ready?” she whispered to the Peacocks. Nine of them were now flying excitedly about her head, only her usual companion remained on her shoulder. She approached the doorway and peeked inside. Ingrid had her back to the door. Amethyst could see her blonde ponytail bobbing as she typed. Good, that would make this easier. Calling on the magic of the butterflies whilst holding a conversation and pretending they didn’t exist would have been a challenge. Instead, she would work unseen. 

“Go,” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible. I wish Ingrid success with her application. She mouthed these final words, her lips making no sound. It didn’t matter. Technically, she didn’t need to speak for the magic to work. She was the Butterfly Keeper and her connection to them was strong. She willed the butterflies forward and they flew to where Ingrid sat, hunched over her laptop, frowning. 

Ingrid was from Poland. She’d moved to England years ago, planning to study but her dream had been interrupted by the need to work. She’d joined their family in London as an au-pair. At first, she was responsible for collecting Amethyst and Ruby from school each day. Her parents had little time for what her mum called ‘hands-on parenting’. As a result, she and Ruby always had a stream of minders transporting them between home and school and various clubs. Ingrid had been an instant hit with the twins, and the temporary part-time job had quickly become a full-time, live-in position. Then her job had come to an abrupt end, and Amethyst hadn’t seen her for almost two years.

Thanks to the butterflies, Ingrid had been rediscovered last year and she’d since come to live with them at Meadow Hill. Her passion for study had been reignited by Aunt Mina and she’d spent the past few months tucked up in her room, reading library books or listening to podcasts. She hoped to restart her training and this morning she was applying for a place on a counselling course.

“There are only twenty places and apparently they get hundreds of applications every year,” she’d told them at breakfast. “My chances of getting onto the course are not good. I haven’t studied for a long time and not at all in England.” Amethyst and Aunt Mina had reassured her as best they could. 

Amethyst watched as the ten Peacock butterflies circled Ingrid’s head, unseen. She had no doubt that Ingrid was talented enough to get onto the course herself, but a magical helping hand couldn’t hurt. The Peacocks began to glow, a sign their magic was at work. Amethyst focused on her connection with them and willed Ingrid’s application to be accepted. Peacocks held the magic of success, and if anyone deserved a place on the course, it was Ingrid. The butterflies circled faster, increasing their speed until they formed a glowing halo. Yellow droplets began to fall from the halo, a kind of golden rain. The brightly coloured drops landed on Ingrid and her laptop. Ingrid glanced up briefly and Amethyst held her breath for a moment. Would she see anything? According to her aunt and the book, Ingrid shouldn’t be able to see or hear the butterflies. The droplets continued to fall and after a moment, Ingrid shook her head and went back to typing. The Peacocks began to slow, and Amethyst breathed out, watching as the falling droplets also slowed then came to a stop. Pleased with their work they flew back to her, spiralling in celebration. She clapped them silently, but Ingrid became aware of the movement and turned.

“Amethyst,” she said. “Have you got everything ready for school tomorrow?”

“Yep, yep, all ready,” she said. “How’s the application going?” 

Ingrid pulled a face, “Is not easy, but I’m almost done.”

“I’m sure you’ll get in,” said Amethyst confidently. The Peacocks completed large loops around the light hanging. They were certain Ingrid would get in too. Amethyst wished her good luck before bounding back up the stairs.

As usual, she was greeted by the butterflies and all eighty-eight of them swooped and dove and spiralled in celebration. Their little glass wings chinked and chimed as they fluttered about the room. Alone, one butterfly made a small, pleasing sound, like the gentle tapping of a fingernail against glass. Listening to all eighty-eight of them was like an orchestra of wine glasses. Each one with a slightly different pitch and tone. They were always like this when magic had been used. 

“Yes, yes, well done!” she said. “You did a great job.” She watched their flight patterns for a while then reached for Ruby’s photo. 

“Another good deed done,” she said to her sister. She described the way the Peacocks had swirled and the golden drops that had landed on Ingrid. The Peacocks flew over at the mention of their magic and she paused to praise them again. Her sister stared back, silent as always. 

Frowning, she put the photo back on her bedside table. The butterflies and their magic were her favourite topic but it would be nice to have a real, back and forth conversation about them for once. She remembered her aunt’s earlier reaction to seeing the Peacock. Maybe things were changing. Maybe she’d be willing to chat about them today. 

Jumping up, she called her usual Peacock to her shoulder then headed downstairs to her favourite, old armchair.