Goodly and Grave in A Bad Case of Kidnap. Justine Windsor
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rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_a0dcbe62-a499-5939-bbac-6fab0a4de14b">CHAPTER TWO
When Lucy and Lord Grave both had five cards each, Mrs Milligan placed the rest face down on the table. Then she herded the crowd back.
“Give ’em space,” she said. “No funny business.”
Lucy picked up her five cards, angling them towards her chest so no one could see what they were.
Four tens and the two of hearts.
The tens were good, but the two might be a disaster. A king would be so much better. She’d definitely win with a king.
Keeping her gaze fixed steadily on Lord Grave’s face, Lucy emptied her mind of everything. The people crowding as close as Mrs Milligan would allow. The smoke stinging her eyes. The smell of brandy and cigars. Even her parents. She pushed them all from her thoughts until the only thing she saw in her imagination was the two of hearts.
Then she imagined the markings on the two of hearts melting, like wax on a candle, sliding off the face of the card and down, down into her sleeve, then reforming on the card hidden there.
When Lucy had finished imagining with all her might, she looked again at the cards she held.
Four tens and one blank card.
She concentrated even harder.
This time she pictured herself holding the king of hearts.
Colours and patterns began swirling across the surface of the blank card. They gathered into the shape of the heads and shoulders of two bearded men, one on the top half of the card, the other upside down at the bottom. Each man wore a golden crown.
Lucy’s head began to pound, the start of the headache she always suffered when she performed the trick. Her arms ached, the cards feeling like weights. But the trick had worked. The two of hearts was safely tucked up her sleeve. Now she was holding four tens and the king of hearts.
A winning hand.
‘‘Either of you want to switch?’’ asked Mrs Milligan, indicating the pile of cards in the middle of the table.
“Not me,” Lord Grave replied.
“Nor me,” said Lucy.
“You’re both ready to call then?” said Mrs Milligan.
Lucy and Lord Grave nodded. Lucy laid out her four tens and her king. At the same time, Lord Grave laid his cards out. Incredibly, he had four tens too, but his fifth card was the jack of hearts.
Kings trump jacks.
Lucy had won!
She was about to leap from her seat and hug her parents. But before she could move, a strange sensation began to seep through her. It was as though ice was crawling up her arms and legs, freezing her in place. The only things she could move were her eyes. Everything around her had frozen too. Mrs Milligan and the rest of the gambling crowd were motionless, their mouths open in mid-shout. Her father’s hands were over his face. Her mother’s mouth was set in a thin line.
Opposite her, Lord Grave sat staring intently at the cards spread out on the table. Then the strangest thing happened. The heads on the top and bottom of Lord Grave’s jack of hearts card moved from side to side, as though checking whether anyone was watching. Then a hand appeared at either side of each of the heads, grabbed the edges of the card and the two jacks pulled themselves up and out of the card, on to the table. Lucy blinked in disbelief as the two figures ran over to Lucy’s king of hearts, the tiny spurs on their boots jingling. They helped the two kings step out of Lucy’s card. The jacks bowed to the kings and took their place. Then the two kings marched smartly over to the empty card the jacks had left and climbed into it.
As soon as the kings had settled into their new card, Lucy’s body unfroze and the crowd around the table started shouting.
“Look at that! His Lordship’s won by a whisker, his king beats the girl’s jack,” Mrs Milligan boomed.
“Oh, Lucy!” said Mrs Goodly, and burst into tears.
“He stole it! He stole my card!” yelled Lucy, leaping furiously to her feet. She flung the jack of hearts at Lord Grave and snatched up the king of hearts. “This was my card.”
“Lucy,” said Mr Goodly quietly. “It won’t do any good. He won.”
“But you must have seen what he did!”
Lord Grave stared at Lucy, his bushy eyebrows raised.
“What do you mean?” Mr Goodly said.
“The girl’s a sore loser,” someone in the crowd muttered. “What did she expect? Her winning streak was never going to last forever.”
Lord Grave stood up. “Mrs Milligan, may we have some privacy, please? Move these dratted people away!” he bellowed.
“Of course, sir. Come now, everyone, get back to your own business.”
The crowd shuffled and muttered back to the other card tables and the roulette wheel.
“Please – sit,” said Lord Grave to Lucy.
“I’m fine standing, thanks.”
Lord Grave shrugged and sat down. He lit another cigar. “Suit yourself,” he said. “But we had a bet, fair and square. I demand my winnings.”
Lucy wanted to yell that it was not fair and square at all. But it was clear that no one else had seen what happened. Should she say something? But who would believe her?
“You’re going to hold us to it?” said Mr Goodly.
“You shouldn’t have agreed to the bet if you weren’t willing to take the risk.”
“I won’t go!” Lucy said.
Mr and Mrs Goodly stood either side of Lucy, each with an arm round her. “Of course not, dear girl,” said Mr Goodly. “I’m sure his Lordship will see reason.”
But Lord Grave didn’t want to see reason. He didn’t want to so much as touch it with the tip of his cigar. “I’m not going to allow you to wriggle out of it.”
“You can’t make us give Lucy up,” said Mr Goodly.
“Perhaps we should call the parish constable to sort out the matter.”
“We’ve done nothing wrong!” cried Mrs Goodly.
Lucy sat down. Her legs were trembling too much to hold her up. It was true. Her parents had done nothing wrong. But they were just ordinary people struggling to make their way in the world, while Lord Grave was rich and powerful. His sort always got what they wanted. And if he did call the parish constable, there might be an investigation into how a girl her age was managing to win so many poker games. And what if somehow they found out about the card? All three of them could end up in prison for fraud. They might even lose Leafy Ridge. Or perhaps everyone would think Lucy was a witch. They used to burn witches once. What if they still did?
Lucy sighed despairingly. She had no choice.
“Stop arguing. I’ll go with him,” she said in a quiet voice.
A hush fell over Mrs Milligan’s Gambling Den. Lucy’s parents stared at her, their eyes wide and frightened.
“He’s right. He won the bet, fair and square,” she said firmly, even though her insides were quaking.
“Wise decision! Mrs Milligan, my things, if you please!” boomed Lord Grave.
“Course, my Lord.” Mrs Milligan shambled off, returning with a purple cloak and a silver walking stick.
Stupid