فصل 05

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CHAPTER 5

MOLLY’S PLAN

QUIETLY CLOSING HER BEDROOM DOOR, Molly tiptoed down the stairs past her mother’s room to the ground floor. Putting on her coat, she walked quietly to the front door—only to hear a familiar voice boom out behind her.

“And where do you think YOU’RE going, young lady?”

Molly turned to face the formidable shape of her governess, Mrs. Bumbrake, who, on hearing Molly’s footsteps, had huffed into the hallway.

“Just out for a walk,” said Molly.

“A walk to WHERE?”

“I thought I’d visit the Darlings,” answered Molly.

The stern expression on Mrs. Bumbrake’s face instantly changed to one of approval.

“Going to see young George, then?” she said.

Molly blushed. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll be back before dark, I promise.”

“See that you are,” said Mrs. Bumbrake, trying to sound harsh, but unable to hide her pleasure. George Darling was exactly the sort of well-bred young man she thought Molly should be seeing. Not like that other boy, Peter, who (in Mrs. Bumbrake’s view) had gotten Molly into such trouble aboard that awful ship….

“Bye,” said Molly, ducking out the door before Mrs. Bumbrake could say any more. Pulling her coat front tight, she crossed the broad, mansion-lined street in front of her house and entered Kensington Gardens, the massive form of Kensington Palace looming through the fog. She took the path through Hyde Park, then crossed Kensington Road into a street lined with fine homes. Reaching the Darlings’, she climbed the steps, rang the doorbell, and told the servant who answered that she was there to see George.

In thirty seconds he was bounding down the stairs, gangling and awkward, but showing more and more indications of the handsome young man he was becoming.

“Hello, Molly,” he said.

“Hello, George.”

There was an awkward pause, which was not unusual; Molly and George spent a good deal of their time together pausing awkwardly. Finally Molly broke the silence.

“I wondered if we could talk,” she said.

“Of course!” said George. “What about?”

“I meant talk, uh, quietly,” said Molly, glancing toward a servant dusting the mantel in the next room.

“Ah!” said George, feeling idiotic, which made him turn even redder than usual. “Of course. Father’s study is empty. He and Mother are traveling.” He rolled his eyes. “Again.”

They went into the study, and George closed the door.

“Is something wrong?” he said.

“Yes,” said Molly. “At least, I think so.”

“The Starcatchers,” said George.

A few months ago, Molly would never have discussed the Starcatchers with George, or even acknowledged their existence. But George had been with her and Peter that night at Stonehenge; in fact, without him, none of them would have gotten there at all. He had been very brave that night, and though he was not a Starcatcher, Molly trusted him absolutely.

“Yes,” said Molly. “The Starcatchers.”

Quickly she summarized what her father had said about the meeting in Paris and the Starcatchers’ concerns.

When she had finished, George said, “I don’t blame them for being worried—that Ombra thing was quite alarming. But it sounds to me as though, now that they’re aware of the situation, they’re taking steps to deal with it.”

“I don’t know,” said Molly. “Father seemed so worried—more so than I’ve ever seen him. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“Such as what?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Molly said. “About the starstuff warnings.”

“The ones they’re not getting anymore.”

“Yes,” said Molly. “Father said they appeared as personal notices in the Oxford Observer. For more than a hundred years, he said. That’s a long time, George.”

“It is a long time,” said George, not sure what she was getting at.

“So,” said Molly, “I was thinking that perhaps somebody in Oxford—somebody at the newspaper—might know who placed those notices.”

“Perhaps,” said George.

“So,” said Molly, “I was thinking that perhaps somebody could go up to Oxford and look into that.”

“Somebody?” said George.

“Me, actually,” said Molly.

“Do your parents know about this plan?”

“No,” confessed Molly. “They’d never allow me to go. But they needn’t know, George. It’s only an hour or so by train to Oxford. We could go there and be back in a day.”

“We?” said George.

Molly blushed. “I was hoping that…I mean, you’re the only person outside my family who understands the situation, and I know it’s a huge imposition after all you’ve done, but I…”

George put his hand on Molly’s, stopping her and sending a current through them both.

“Of course I’ll go to Oxford with you,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said.

They self-consciously separated hands.

“I can get away easily, with my parents gone,” George said. “But how will you escape the clutches of the formidable Mrs. Bumbrake?”

Molly smiled. “I shall use you as an excuse. I shall tell her you’re taking me to the National Gallery tomorrow, and that we plan to spend the day there, as there are so many fine paintings to admire.”

“Indeed there are,” said George. “But will the formidable Mrs. B. entrust you to me?”

“She will,” said Molly. “The formidable Mrs. B. is quite fond of you.”

Molly was on the verge of saying something more, but settled instead for another awkward, blushing silence, this one broken by George.

“All right, then,” he said. “Shall I come ’round tomorrow at nine? For our visit to the National Gallery?”

“Nine it is,” said Molly. “Thank you, George.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said.

He saw her to the door and they said good-bye. As Molly retraced her steps back to her house, she thought warm thoughts about George’s loyalty and his willingness to help.

Then a different thought began to intrude: The last time George helped me, he wound up in great danger. Am I putting him in danger again?

Molly pondered that, and decided she was being silly. What harm can possibly come from a trip to Oxford?

Comforted somewhat by that thought, Molly hurried forward into the swiftly falling night.

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