Rose and the Silver Ghost, by Holly Webb
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Rose and the Silver Ghost, by Holly Webb
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"This is an amazing book that ends the series in the best possible way."-The Guardian on the UK Edition
Time has flown since Rose left the orphanage behind for her new family at Mr. Fountain's magical house. But when the stern Miss Fell comes to stay at the mansion, Rose can't help but notice the extra attention Miss Fell gives her. When Rose sees the flash of a face in Miss Fell's mirror-a face that's familiar and foreign at the same time-her suspicions are confirmed that Miss Fell might know more about Rose's past than she's letting on...
Can a hidden picture, a silver mirror, and a timid ghost lead Rose to the truth about her family?
Praise for Rose: "Warm and sparkling and magical and fun."-Bestselling author Hilary McKay "A book as satisfying and familiar as a cup of hot cocoa."-Shelf Awareness "Magic, mystery, adventure, and friendship - this book has it all. The characters are delightful children, each searching for their special place in the world. I loved the book and would heartily recommend it to kids ages 9 and up, especially to fans of Harry Potter."-Books for Kids
Rose and the Silver Ghost, by Holly Webb - Amazon Sales Rank: #773525 in Books
- Brand: Webb, Holly
- Published on: 2015-03-03
- Released on: 2015-03-03
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 7.29" h x .55" w x 6.90" l, .0 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 224 pages
Rose and the Silver Ghost, by Holly Webb Review Very interesting and exciting.―Cork Evening EchoA thrilling, page-turning roller-coaster of a story.―BookbagThe story proceeds at a good pace... Strongly recommended for pre-teen, able readers of fantasy.―School Librarian
About the Author
Holly Webb is a bestselling author of over 80 books and was born and raised in southeast London. The Rose series stems from a childhood love of historical novels and the wish that animals really could talk. Before deciding to become a writer, she worked for five years as a children's fiction editor. She lives in Reading with her husband and three small children.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
One
"And one, two, three, and one, two, three, and-twirl, girl!"
Rose sighed and twirled obediently. The last time she'd danced had been in a Venetian ballroom lit by candles hanging in huge crystal wheels from the ceiling. She had been surrounded by masked society ladies and by the music, which swept her around in a whirl of silvery chimes.
The thin tinkling of the piano couldn't send her feet circling like that Venetian orchestra had a few weeks before. And Bella refused to obey Miss Fell's strict instructions on the polite steps of the quadrille. She kept adding fancy footwork, and Miss Fell did not approve. Even the jauntiest tune was dismal when the piano stopped every four bars while the pianist hissed with horror.
Rose half closed her eyes, remembering soft, white fur gloves instead of Bella's thin, hot hands.
"Rose! Not you as well! Chassé! Oh, stop it, stop it. I cannot stand the pair of you any longer. Tell one of the maids I shall take tea and a piece of lavender shortbread in my room." Miss Fell sprang up from the piano stool with remarkable energy for one so elderly, and strode-as much as she ever did anything so unladylike-out of the room.
Rose sank onto a small gilt chair and shook her head. "Mrs. Jones will have a fit. I'm almost certain there's no lavender shortbread in the kitchen. She'll have Sarah making holes in the plain kind with a pin and sticking the lavender in."
"You'd think Miss Fell would know that, as she's such a powerful magician," Bella said thoughtfully, chasséing perfectly across the polished floorboards and settling onto the windowsill beside Rose's chair.
"You would, wouldn't you?"
The two girls exchanged glances, and Rose looked down at the floor, smiling a little. Only a few months before, she had been an orphanage brat. The first time she met Bella, she had been laying the fire in the younger girl's bedroom. Rose had moved from the orphanage to become the lowliest maid in the house of Bella's father, Aloysius Fountain, a powerful magician who worked as an adviser to the king. But then Mr. Fountain's apprentice, the insufferable Freddie, had discovered that Rose could do magic too, and everything had changed. Dancing lessons-however horrible-were a world away.
Miss Fell had been living in Mr. Fountain's house with them ever since they returned from Venice, where they'd traveled to defeat the crazed magician Gossamer. Miss Fell wasn't anything as humble as a governess, but she had taken over Bella's lessons and insisted that Rose attend too. She also taught Freddie some subjects, but he had taken to developing interesting illnesses on his days for etiquette and genealogy.
Mr. Fountain had intended to find a new governess for Bella anyway, as she had finally driven off Miss Anstruther, her last long-suffering governess, just before they left for Venice. Bella's magic was now starting to show-and she couldn't control it properly. Rose rather suspected that Bella didn't want to because it was more fun that way. Unfortunately, Bella's magic was also immensely strong.
No one had quite realized how strong until they landed at Dover two weeks before. As Mr. Fountain had predicted, the Venetian ship hardly stayed in port long enough for them to disembark. The captain seemed to have little need of favorable winds, and the spell-laden sails filled and swelled despite the stillness in the air.
Rose and the others were left abandoned at the dock, something that happened to Mr. Fountain very rarely. It was terribly cold, and Rose felt desolate, looking at the gray water and grayer sky. It was surely about to snow again, which would at least cover the dirty slush around their feet. Their adventure in Venice had been dangerous and frightening and almost fatal-but it had been exciting too, while coming home was just dismal. Tattered recruiting posters were pasted on every wall, and the war with the Talish Empire seemed to have grown nearer and more certain while they were away.
Bella had huddled against Rose, moaning, her hands snuggled inside her huge, white fur muff and her blue eyes enormous in her pinched, cold face. "I want a carriage!" she whimpered. "I'm frozen. Papa, summon a carriage. I want to go home!"
"I want, I want," Freddie muttered. "Don't worry, sir. I'll run to the inn and fetch one. Sit on that post, why don't you?" He ushered the master over to the iron post, worriedly eyeing the area of Mr. Fountain's waistcoat where the magician had been stabbed. Bill, one of the young servant boys, helped Freddie to ease Mr. Fountain down. "And don't let Bella work you into one of her tantrums. If anything's going to bring about a relapse, it'll be that."
"Thank you, Frederick." Mr. Fountain sighed wearily. The cold seemed to affect his spirits in the same way it ruined Bella's.
"I'm not having a tantrum!" Bella smacked Freddie on the arm. "I won't be spoken of in that horrid way. Apologize! Papa, make him!"
"Bella dear!" Miss Fell frowned haughtily. "Ladylike manners, if you please."
"I'm not a lady. I'm only eight, and I'm cold, and I want to go ho-oome!" The last word extended into an eerie wail, and Rose put her hands to her ears as they began to throb, pain pulsing through them with the wobble in Bella's voice.
There were startled cries from the deck of the ship anchored nearest to them, a tall clipper, as the masts started to shake. The sailors fell to the deck, wrapping their arms around their heads.
"Bella, stop it... Please..." Rose whispered. There was no chance that Bella would hear her. How was she doing it? She had always had a piercing scream-Miss Anstruther had left Mr. Fountain's employ after Bella had made her ears bleed. But nothing like this.
A break in the dreadful battering of sound let Rose open her eyes, but the silence was only due to a catch in Bella's throat. The wailing would start again in moments. A horrified glance around showed Rose that the others were clutching their heads as she was. Bill was on the ground, pulling his jacket over his ears, and Mr. Fountain drooped limply on his perch. Freddie was trying to hold Mr. Fountain up, his face buried in the master's shoulder as he tried to protect himself.
Bella's father! She was killing him! Rose took a determined step toward Bella, who seemed to be affected by the sound herself. She was lying in the snow, curled into a little ball, still uttering that unearthly noise.
"Bella!" Rose pulled urgently at Bella's shoulder, then cried out herself. Taking even one hand away from her ears was agony. "Bella, you have to stop! Bella!" Suddenly angry, Rose resorted to Mrs. Jones's remedy for hysterical housemaids and smacked Bella across the face.
The screaming stopped rather abruptly, and Bella uncurled and looked up at Rose, her hand to her cheek. "Did you hit me?"
Rose took a cautious step back. "Yes," she admitted, wondering if she should run. But Bella looked more confused than angry.
"Why?" she murmured, rubbing her cheek. Rose could see the red mark across Bella's pale skin, but she didn't feel guilty.
"Look!" she snarled, hauling Bella up. Rose wasn't frightened anymore. Now she was furious. How could Bella not know what she'd done?
Bella sagged in Rose's arms and looked around at the others. Mr. Fountain's cat, Gus, was slumped on the cobbles, his fur trailing in the dirty ice. As the girls watched, his tail flickered, and he licked a paw weakly.
"You did that, Bella!" Rose snapped. "Because you had a stupid, selfish little girl's tantrum. You can't do that anymore."
"But I didn't mean to..." Bella whispered weakly. Then she ran to stand in front of her father, laying a hand on his sleeve. Freddie was kneeling by him still, and there was a thin trickle of blood running down the boy's neck from his ear, staining his starched collar.
"Oh, Papa! I didn't mean to hurt you." Bella glanced up at Rose with wide blue eyes, the whites showing all around the blue. "Did I do that to Freddie? The blood?"
Rose nodded and saw the expression on Bella's face change. The fear shifting slightly into thoughtfulness. Perhaps even a little pride.
"Yes. And it's horrible!" Rose hissed.
Bella nodded guiltily.
"Please don't do that again," Freddie muttered, shaking his head as though he felt dizzy. "Sir? Sir? Are you all right?"
"Mmm. Tell me, Frederick. Dear boy. Was that Bella?"
Freddie hesitated, not sure whether he might send the master into heart failure by admitting that it had all been Bella's doing.
"Yes, then." Mr. Fountain sighed. "I really should have found her a better governess."
"She doesn't need a governess. She needs a cell!" Miss Fell swept across the snow toward them. Her hat was on crooked, and she seemed old and angry.
Bella was trying hard to look innocent, as though it was all just an unfortunate misunderstanding, but when no one seemed to appreciate the careful fluttering of her eyelashes, she lapsed into a sulk.
There was an ominous creaking sound from above them. Rose looked up slowly, reluctantly, as though if she didn't look, it might not happen.
"The mast!" Freddie muttered, staring with her. "She broke the mast! I don't believe it. Sir, we have to move. Please, you have to get up!"
The foremast of the clipper, a solid lump of wood taller than a tree, was swaying above them. Bella's screaming had splintered it fatally.
"The sailors..." Rose whispered. "It'll hit them-they're all unconscious on the deck. We recovered faster because we know magic. Bill's still collapsed too. Look."
"Don't just stand there gaping and whining, you silly girl," Miss Fell snapped. "Help. And you too, Isabella, since this is all due to your ridiculous behavior. Frederick, see to your master. And the cat and the servant boy." She marched briskly toward the ship's gangplank and swept up it, her plum-colored coat trailing over the wood. The girls scurried after her.
"Why are we going toward it?" Bella whimpered. "We should be going away..." But she stopped when Miss Fell and Rose turned remarkably similar glares on her.
Miss Fell threaded her way delicately between the unconscious sailors, pulling the skirts of her coat away from them. Bella and Rose trailed behind her, staring up at the hypnotic swaying of the mast. Rose felt herself drawn toward it, wondering which way it would fall.
"Put your hands on it," Miss Fell commanded. "Isabella, stop playacting. This is your ridiculous spoiled-child mess." She snatched Bella's hand and pressed it against the dark wood of the mast. Rose followed, wincing as she felt the tearing shudders running through the timber.
"It's going to fall on us," she muttered. "Bella, if I get squashed, I will kill you."
Bella snickered, but stopped quickly when Miss Fell glared at her again.
"I don't work with wood." Miss Fell sounded frustrated. She was gripping the wooden mast as if she was trying to push her fingertips into it, but it was iron hard, cured by the salty sea winds.
Rose pressed her fingers against the polished wood, feeling for a hold, but it was no use. She hissed crossly and felt Miss Fell's eyes on her, just a moment's glance.
Ever since they first met Miss Fell in Venice, she had been looking at Rose oddly, and she kept dropping strange little hints. She seemed convinced that Rose must belong to one of the old magical families. Bella was certain of this too. Rose kept finding Bella staring, her nose wrinkled in a delicate little frown as though she were trying to catch a scent.
"I can't get inside the wood," Rose told Miss Fell apologetically. "It's too dead. The sails maybe? Could we do something to those?"
The old magician gave a thoughtful little nod.
"Our magic is very similar, I think, Rose... Agh!"
With a shrieking crack, the mast suddenly listed to one side, sending Bella careening into Rose. Rose fell back but was hooked upward by something seizing her coat collar. An invisible something, a spell that Miss Fell had conjured up to catch her. At the same time, the sixty-foot mast suddenly exploded-very gently-into a cloud of powdery dust.
Gaping, Rose steadied herself and dragged Bella upright. "I thought you said you didn't work with wood, ma'am," she murmured admiringly, looking around the deck of the ship, now heaped with little drifts of sawdust.
Miss Fell's lips pursed in a dissatisfied expression. "I don't. I dislike merely-blasting things. No finesse. No delicacy. So uncouth."
Rose nodded and brushed the dust off Bella's bonnet. It would be rather lovely, she thought, to know one's magic well enough to actually decide what sort of spell to use, rather than just having to grab whatever happened to be passing through one's head, as she seemed to. She shivered a little.
She knew that Miss Fell was an incredibly strong magician-she had watched her heal Mr. Fountain of a fatal stab wound in their fight against the mad magician Gossamer-but this was different. That solid slab of wood was simply gone, and the feathers on Miss Fell's bonnet hadn't even twitched. It was pure power, and now that Rose had time to think, it was frightening. So frightening that Rose wanted to be able to do it too.
"I think perhaps now we should go to an inn," Miss Fell said, twitching dust out of the folds of her coat. "Rather tiresome to have to explain to these good fellows why one of their masts has disappeared."
"Woodworm? Very hungry weevils?" Bella suggested, but Miss Fell ignored her majestically.
As they reached the dock, Bill was stumbling up from the ground, but Gus was still stretched out in the dirt, his whiskers trembling.
Rose hurried down from the gangplank to pick him up, lovingly wiping the grayish slush from his fur with her handkerchief.
"That girl...is a menace..." Gus moaned. "I'm dirty. I need to wash..."
"Can't you just glamour it away?" Rose suggested helpfully.
Gus rolled his eyes, one blue and one orange, at her in disgust. "Don't be stupid, Rose. If I glamour myself sky blue, I'm still white underneath! The dirt would still be there. I can feel it! Ugh!"
"What did she do?" Bill's eyes were rolling, and he staggered as he tried to walk toward Rose. Bella's screams seemed to have left his ears ringing. "Is she one of you now, then? Mrs. Jones'll quit-she always swore she wouldn't stay when Miss Bella was bringing the house down around her ears."
Rose put an arm around his shoulders to hold him still and sighed. "Mrs. Jones was right about that. I think if Bella had gone on longer, she could have toppled a house." She shook her head disgustedly. "And not a hair out of place. Look at her! How did she find the one clean spot in the harbor to lie in?"
***
Mr. Fountain had been horrified by Bella's screaming fit at Dover Harbor. He had blamed himself for allowing Bella to run wild instead of insisting she stay at home in London with a proper governess. And then he had begged Miss Fell to take Bella on as her apprentice in the same way he had taken Freddie into his house for training.
When he suggested this in their private parlor at the grand Dover inn, Rose thought Bella was about to have another fit of hysterics. She had turned an unearthly white and seemed hardly able to speak. Despite her awful behavior, Bella loved her father dearly and clearly couldn't bear the thought of being parted from him. Mr. Fountain didn't seem particularly happy about the idea either. His mustache was drooping, which made him look like a depressed walrus.
"Please..." Bella whispered.
Miss Fell, seated in the best armchair, her back ramrod straight and her hands resting on her silver-headed cane, regarded Bella thoughtfully. "She certainly needs to be taught," she agreed, although Rose thought she sounded somewhat reluctant. "But I do not think my household would be particularly suitable. My London residence has been shut up for some years, for a start. I shall be staying in a hotel while I engage new servants. All most unsettling. Not the place for a young girl." But her eyes rested on Rose as she spoke.
Mr. Fountain watched her, his eyes thoughtful. "A hotel is a most soulless place," he suggested delicately.
Miss Fell stared back at him, her sharp nose making her look hawklike. She inclined her head very, very slightly.
"Would you not be more comfortable if you came to stay with us?"
Freddie's head whipped around at this, and his eyes widened in horror. He'd had enough of Miss Fell's old-fashioned ideas on the upbringing of children and apprentices.
"How very gracious..." purred Miss Fell. "And then, of course, I would not only be able to teach dear little Isabella, but also Rose. And even Frederick." Her eyes closed for the merest fraction of a second as she contemplated that thought.
But Rose was quite sure that this was what Miss Fell had intended all along. She descended on the Fountain house in a mass of expensive luggage. Of course, Mr. Fountain had not thought to inform his housekeeper that he was bringing home a houseguest. He simply expected Miss Bridges to deal with the consequences. In fact, Rose mused, Bella's selfish habits were inherited from her father-he merely managed to make them seem rather less obnoxious by adding a great deal of charm. Perhaps rich people were all inconsiderate, having never known anything else? Rose wrinkled her nose thoughtfully.
Luckily, Miss Bridges and Miss Fell seemed to like one another. Rose suspected that Miss Bridges would have liked anybody who was prepared to educate Bella-or at least try. It also helped that Miss Fell had made a special visit to the kitchens and had been so gracious to Mrs. Jones about the orange syllabub she served at supper the first night that the cook didn't quit after all.
Although, if Miss Fell kept asking for lavender shortbread, Mrs. Jones might reconsider, of course.
Rose sighed and shrugged the thoughts away. She sometimes thought that she would never understand people who had been born with money. "I'll go down to the kitchens. Wish me luck. If Mrs. Jones is in one of her moods, I'll be having bread and butter for supper, without the butter."
Luckily for Rose, when she reached the kitchen, Mrs. Jones was hidden behind her newspaper with a cup of tea at her side, sighing heavily. "Dreadful. Dreadful," she kept muttering, as she rustled the pages.
"Another murder?" Rose whispered to Bill, who was drinking his tea out of his saucer, since no one else was in the kitchen and Mrs. Jones couldn't see him from behind the paper.
Bill shook his head and slurped. "War," he muttered, eyeing the edges of the newspaper.
"Oh..." Rose sighed. The war with Talis had escalated over the last few weeks, and they had arrived back to find London papered with still more recruiting posters and columns of soldiers marching through the streets. They frightened Rose when she was out on errands. Somehow she saw those bright uniforms splashed with mud...and other worse things. Then she would blink, and again the cloth would only be red with dye. It made her feel sick.
What would happen if the Talish emperor did as everyone said he meant to, and there was an invasion? Would there really be fighting in the streets? Rose kept telling herself that Mr. Fountain and the other magicians would never let it happen. But the emperor had magicians of his own. Lord Venn had even worked for him for a while. The plot to steal Princess Jane had been a subtle ploy to gain the emperor's trust. Who was to say that another powerful magician wasn't directing the Talish forces now?
Rose stared at the words screaming from the cramped type of the newspaper. Cannon. Seventh Light Infantry. Treaties dissolved. Undue provocation...
Her new life in the Fountain house was so wonderfully precious, and the bands of soldiers seemed to be marching over it in their heavy black boots.
"Those Talish. Traitors!" The newspaper shook aggressively.
Rose crossed her fingers behind her back for luck and cooed, "Mrs. Jones...would we by any chance happen to have lavender shortbread?"
Mrs. Jones's eyebrows appeared over the top of the newspaper. "That woman will be the death of me," she sighed. "There's a porcelain jar of dried lavender in the larder, Rose. Fetch it for me, there's a dear. And next time"- she eyed Rose sternly-"next time, try to encourage her to want something that you know I already have. Use that dratted magic stuff."
She gave a slight shudder as she said it, but Rose still stared at the cook over her shoulder as she went to the larder. Mrs. Jones detested magic and kept the kitchen doors sealed against it by some ancient rituals of her own, which Rose suspected were just as magical in their way as Mr. Fountain's spells. Mrs. Jones usually pretended not to know that Rose could do magic too.
"Miss Fell would see straight through me, Mrs. Jones," Rose told her, as she came back with the heavy blue-white jar. "She can make spells with her little finger that I couldn't do if I tried with all of me for a week."
Mrs. Jones folded up her paper and smoothed it out with little thumps of her fat hands, as though she were squashing away things she didn't want to see. "She seems like such a nice, proper lady," she murmured, then pulled the lid off the lavender jar with a sharp jerk.
"Looks like nasty little dead beetles," Bill said disgustedly as he peered into the jar. "And the smell! She's going to eat that stuff?"
"It's a lovely smell!" Rose said, glancing at him in surprise. It made her think of drawers full of clean, pressed linens. Miss Fell herself smelled of lavender, Rose realized. She probably kept bags of it to freshen her lace collars and cuffs, but Rose couldn't help wondering if Miss Fell's fondness for lavender shortbread scented her from the inside out.
"How are we going to put the lavender in the biscuits?" Rose asked anxiously. She had forgotten it was Sarah the kitchen maid's afternoon out, and she wasn't sure she was up to inserting lavender into shortbread herself.
Mrs. Jones sniffed. "Lavender icing. It may not be exactly what madam ordered, but she'll have to deal with it. We can't all cheat."
Rose gave a brisk nod. "I only hope it puts her in a sweeter mood. She's supposed to be teaching us painting in watercolors later on, and after the dancing lesson we've just had..."
"You're good at pictures," Bill pointed out, but Rose sighed.
"Not painting them. Mine just happen when I'm talking, and I don't mean them to. Sorry, Mrs. Jones," she added automatically. Mention of magic was not usually allowed in the kitchen either.
"Watercolors are very suitable for a young lady, Rose," the cook told her approvingly as she whisked a bowlful of icing.
"I'm not a young lady," Rose pointed out, pursing her lips.
"But you could be, dear. Most girls would bite your hand off for the chances you're getting. Learning Latin and all that. Mind you, we'll be lucky if we're not all speaking Talish this time next year."
"You can't say you aren't a young lady, anyway," Bill put in, sneaking a fingerful of icing while Mrs. Jones examined the lavender. "You don't know."
"Oh, don't you start," Rose told him witheringly. "You're like the girls at St. Bridget's, all sure they're really little lost princesses."
"But you might be!" Bill protested. "All that...strangeness had to come from somewhere, didn't it?"
"It's just an accident," Rose muttered. But she didn't sound sure. Before she came to work at Mr. Fountain's house, Rose had spent so long in the orphanage refusing to imagine that she had a family that she found it desperately hard to think about her history now. She wasn't sure she wanted to find the people who had thrown her away-for that was what they'd done. They hadn't even bothered to deliver her to the orphanage, simply abandoned her in a churchyard-in a fish basket, to add insult to injury. Why would she ever want to know them?
***
"What are we painting today?" Bella asked rather unenthusiastically, swooshing her brush around in a water glass.
Miss Fell frowned. "Isabella dear. Don't splash. Today I have found a painting for you to copy." She brought a cardboard folder over to the schoolroom table and untied the ribbons. The watercolor inside was of a large house built of white marble, like some ancient temple, and surrounded by perfectly green gardens.
Rose's shoulders slumped a little. At least in their earlier lessons, they had painted flowers and one of the china ornaments from the drawing room. Copying another picture seemed so dull.
"Try to match the colors," Miss Fell instructed them. "See the delicacy of line? Light washes, girls, no heavy-handed brushstrokes." She sighed and gently stroked a finger down the paper.
Rose wondered why Miss Fell kept the painting tucked away in a folder instead of having it framed to go on her wall. It was clear that she loved it.
Rose dipped her brush into the water and tried to enjoy watching the color spread across the paper. But it all seemed so silly! She was no pampered little rich girl, being groomed for a society match. Why on earth was she bothering with this?
The answer was simple, of course. Because she wouldn't dare refuse, although she was rather hoping that Bella might do it for her.
But Bella was doodling happily in a mixture of green and pink streaks, the odd tree shape appearing here and there. Rose glanced over at Miss Fell, who was staring out the schoolroom window at the square, twisting a lavender-scented handkerchief between her fingers.
Irritably, Rose sketched in the line of the columns along the front of the house. They formed a pretty terrace, where the daughters of the family were likely allowed to stroll. They probably didn't go anywhere else, Rose thought bitterly, constrained in corsets so they could walk only a few steps among the peacocks. Perhaps she had been better off in the orphanage after all. But a magician's daughter wouldn't be so hemmed in, she admitted, spying Bella now mixing paint directly into her paint water to make tornado swirls. Delicate mists of color sank through the water-until it turned an ugly purplish-brown. No one could stop Bella from doing what she wanted.
And not me either, she told herself, half looking at the watercolor and painting without thinking. A pattern grew under her fingers, coils and swirls and feathery shapes, and the peacocks stalked slowly through her thoughts.
"What is that?" A papery whisper pulled Rose out of the strange, dreamy state she'd been in, and she jerked, streaking red paint across her sketch. Miss Fell was standing over her, the handkerchief now pressed to her lips.
"Oh-I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't mean to..." Then Rose trailed off, looking down at her painting. The house was still there, but the composition had changed entirely. Now a young girl was walking through the scene, heading away from them toward the house, a shawl trailing from her elbows. She had one hand stretched out with a piece of bread to feed the peacocks, and they walked beside her, their tails trailing along the ground like her long shawl. The feathers seemed to grow into the intricate pattern of the fabric, as though she was wearing them too.
"That's-that's not in the picture," Rose stammered.
Bella leaned over from her side of the table to examine Rose's work. "How did you paint that?" she asked wide-eyed. "Rose, last week your bouquet of snowdrops looked like tree trunks. And who is she?"
"How did you know her?" Miss Fell asked, her voice still strange. "You can't have known her! What did you do?"
When Rose simply gaped at her, the old lady seized Rose's chin in her hand and pulled her face around, turning it so she could look into Rose's eyes.
"I didn't! I didn't do anything! I was thinking and not paying attention, and it just happened. I don't think I painted it at all," Rose added, shamefaced.
Miss Fell let go of her and clutched the back of a chair, as though she needed it to stay standing. Rose and Bella stared at her, wondering what on earth was wrong, and whether they should do anything. This wasn't like Miss Anstruther's fainting fits. Rose was sure she could see the old lady's bones as she clung to the chair, and she was trembling.
"Miss Fell?" she asked hesitantly. "Ma'am? Should we fetch you a-a cordial? Or some smelling salts?"
"Useless quackery," the old lady snapped, seeming to come to herself all of a sudden. "Make sure that you wash those brushes properly, girls. I have a slight headache, and I shall be going to lie down."
But she tottered from the room, actually leaning on her cane instead of using it as part of her harmless-old-lady disguise as she usually did. As the door swung shut behind Miss Fell, Bella raised her eyebrows at Rose.
"Slight headache, my foot," she pointed out.
Rose nodded and picked up her sheet of watercolor paper. "Who is this?" she asked, staring down at the girl in the picture and tracing the interlocking pattern of the paisley shawl. "I don't remember her. How could I? I can't see her face properly, but I'm sure I've never met her. There's something, though..."
Bella frowned at the painting too. "She isn't all that much older than us," she pointed out. Rose rolled her eyes without Bella seeing. Bella hated being the youngest in the house and refused to admit that Rose was older than she was. Rose didn't actually know how old she was, but she was reasonably certain she was at least ten or eleven. Bella was only eight. But Bella was right-this girl was young.
"Perhaps fifteen or sixteen?" Rose suggested.
"She has a tolerable figure," Bella pronounced. "But I don't think her hair is naturally that fair. Probably it's the same color as yours, and she put lemon juice on it."
"Or maybe I just painted it the wrong color," Rose said.
"Oh, don't be so silly," Bella snapped. "You only held the brush. This was a spell. Miss Fell knew it too, and more than she was saying." Bella's eyes were fixed on the strange sideways portrait, as though she was willing the girl to turn around. "It was something to do with you and that house-and her."
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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful. A fun book with children, magic, and a ghost! By Shay VanZwoll NOTE: This review if for the new edition of this book, released March 3, 2015.Rose, orphaned and raised to be a servant, finds herself in the unusual place of being a magician's apprentice. In circumstances hinting at previous stories, we discover that Rose was found to have magic and, as the maid in the household of one of the most powerful magicians in the country, she is invited to apprentice. But when an even more powerful magician takes interest in Rose, the secrets of her past and her heritage are revealed.ROSE AND THE SILVER GHOST is a fun paranormal children's story. Obviously part of a series, this story can also be read on it's own, but I found myself slightly confused trying to peace the story and the characters together using references to prior events. Though I have not read the previous books myself, I assume that reading them would clear up any confusion on how Rose's magic was discovered, and why there is a talking cat!Even with the minor confusion, this is an exciting and enjoyable story, long enough for older children/young adults but still short enough to keep anyone from getting bored. The author is able to tell the story in a way that you can imagine the details while reading, a great gift when writing for children. The characters themselves are also interesting: Rose, with the mystery of her heritage, Bella, with her unusual gift, and Gus the cat - or is he? - make you want to read more about them and follow their stories into the future.Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for providing me with a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Delightful finale By Liviania In the final novel of the Rose series, Holly Webb brings Rose's parentage to light through a mysterious mirror, a dangerous gang, and two loyal women. There's still war brewing on the horizon, but it is mostly an afterthought, something the grown-ups are focusing on while Rose and her friends chase the truth and run straight into danger. But the kids will be drawn back in before the end.I thought ROSE AND THE SILVER GHOST was a wonderful end to the series. It stays true to the lessons Rose has learned about magic and responsibility. The events of the novel also force Rose to face the ways she's changed, and that she can never go back to just being a maid. I'm not entirely happy with the way she was forced to give up the last bits of her earlier identity, but she really isn't that little girl anymore. ROSE AND THE SILVER GHOST also continues the darker direction that started in the third book, although the story is still appropriate for younger children. There are some things they might find scary.I will miss Rose, Freddie, Bella, and Bill. All four children had distinct, memorable personalities and worked so well together. Then there was Gus. I can think of very few books that wouldn't be improved with the addition of a talking cat. It's just common sense.I doubt ROSE AND THE SILVER GHOST would be that exciting for anyone who hasn't read the first three books on gone on this journey with Rose. But these books are short and delightful, so there's no reason not to catch up now that the entire series is available in the US.
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful. Do not miss!! By Gina Hott Hott Review:What I liked: Rose and the Silver Ghost was so much fun! Even I couldn’t put it down! I really enjoyed not only the plot but the characters. It was fun and imaginative – I’ve not read anything like this before!One of my favorite things about this is how Ms. Webb builds vocabulary. Without being preachy, she uses uncommon vocabulary and then explains it in such a way that it feels like part of the story and not a lesson.Although this is intended for middle-graders, it’s appropriate for younger readers and many would love to have it read to them!!What I didn’t like: The beginning of Rose and the Silver Ghost was quite confusing. I think that Ms. Webb is trying to catch us up on what happened in the other books so this can be a stand-alone read but, there is a LOT of info and it’s a bit confusing until we get into the meat of the story.More…Author: Holly WebbSource: Sourcebooks Jabberwocky via NetgalleyGrade: AAges: 5+Setting: England
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