“Well, now,” began the housekeeper hesitantly. “Now, you girls know that I’ve never breathed a word about goblins to you. But the truth is, my own grandparents and the folk they lived among would have sworn to you that there were elves and goblins in these hills. Why, when I was a child, there wasn’t a single one of us girls allowed out of the house after sunset. All because the magical folk, you see, they be creatures of the nighttime, and they can’t see in the day.
“The old folks told us that the goblins would steal a girl if they caught her out wandering in the twilight. They’d drag her away to their caverns under the Hill to be a goblin bride. Her hair would turn white, and the color would fade out of her, and she’d become like one of them creatures herself, nursing some squalling goblin brat in those dripping holes down in the Hill. They always did want the pretty ones, the girls who hadn’t been married, so once we were married, you know, we didn’t have to worry about them anymore.”
Kate remembered Marak commenting on how pretty Aunt Celia had been in her youth, but she had been a widow. “That was a real pity,” he had said emphatically. Now she knew what he had meant.
“No one ever did see the goblins or the elves,” Mrs. Bigelow continued, “or if they did, they didn’t let on to have seen them. They be terrible secretive creatures and powerful with magic, and it didn’t pay to cross them at all. Sometimes, old folks said, they’d hear hunting horns at night, and sometimes sounds of battle, but the wise folk barred their doors and pulled their shutters. You see, the elves and the goblins were here in this land long before us, and folks respected their ways.”
“But what were you girls supposed to do if you did meet a goblin?” asked Kate. “Sneeze, or throw salt in its eyes, or say the Lord’s Prayer?”
“There’s no right way to meet a goblin, dearie,” said the housekeeper. “Staying inside at night was all we could do because they’d not take notice of us then. If a girl was to get stolen, well, she was stolen, is all. Sneezing and salting wasn’t going to help.”
“Did you know any girls who got stolen?” asked Emily hopefully.
“Well, no,” Mrs. Bigelow admitted. “Not that there wasn’t the occasional odd bit of news. A girl might go out for a walk and never come back, and her family would never know what had become of her. But there is one story from my grandmother’s day that always scared us young girls into staying safe indoors, and that was the story of Miss Adele Roberts.
“You see, my grandmother said Miss Adele was as bold as any general, and to tell her not to do a thing was the same as to see her do it. Her playmate Miss Elizabeth was a timid little thing, and it may be that encouraged Miss Adele in her outrageousness. If it was riding the half-broken colt or walking a cliff’s edge, Miss Adele would do it, half for the fun of the thing and half to hear Miss Elizabeth’s frantic screams begging her to stop. But they went everywhere together, and for all her frights and shocks, Miss Elizabeth couldn’t bear to be left at home.
“When they were just about old enough to be thought young ladies, folks warned them to stay safe at home at night, and that right away fired Miss Adele’s ambition. She swore she’d be the first to walk into the goblin caves right through their own front door. She’d catch a goblin with her own bare hands or perish in the attempt. And so, evening after evening of those pretty summer days, she was ranging about the woodlands and fields in the twilight, calling for those goblins to come out and show themselves.
“Then came the night the old folks had been waiting on. Miss Elizabeth came running into the house, screaming and crying, and Miss Adele was nowhere to be seen. It seems Miss Adele had been marching up a wooded path with a stick in her hand, whacking at the tree trunks and calling on the goblins, when all of a sudden a whole crowd of creatures leapt from the shadows around her. Then a tall man in a black cloak and hood stepped to her side. He lifted her up in his arms, and the whole crowd melted into the shadows and was gone, with only the sounds of Miss Adele’s screams left behind them to show where they had been.
“Old Roberts stood up looking pale as death, and he called for his master of hounds. The two of them went off with lanterns and the pack on a leash. And when they returned without her in the wee hours of the night, old Roberts called the staff together, and he bade them all good-bye. ‘My daughter is dead,’ he told them, ‘and don’t think you’ll see her again.’ Then he took Miss Elizabeth into the carriage with him, and two good strong lads for protection, and they rolled off into the night. And that was the last Hallow Hill ever saw of the old master or his daughter.”
“Then it’s true!” cried Kate in horror. “Adele did become the King’s Wife!” The entire group turned toward her, stunned. “The goblin King’s Wife,” she hurriedly explained. “Adele had to marry the goblin King, and that creature is her son. He wasn’t lying to us after all, Em.”
Her dinnertime companions couldn’t have looked more astounded. Even Emily gave her sister a baffled look. Hugh Roberts took off his spectacles and polished them with his napkin.
“What on earth are you talking about, Miss Winslow?” he demanded.
“I’m talking about terrible danger,” insisted Kate urgently. “Please, you have to send me away from here! They got Adele,” she said with a shudder, “and who knows how long she survived down there, but they’re not going to get me.”
“You think goblins are trying to get you?” asked her guardian in surprise.
“I know he is,” answered Kate firmly. “He told me so.” Hugh Roberts put his spectacles back on and stared at her over them. Then he turned to her sister.
“Miss Emily, you went on that adventure, too. Do you know anything about this?” His younger charge shrugged and shook her head.
“Of course she doesn’t,” said Kate. “He told me last night. He said his first wife died childless, and I’m ideal. But they can’t see in the daytime,” she added, planning rapidly. “If I leave now, maybe I can travel beyond their reach by nightfall.” She began calculating how long it would take to pack and what she would need to bring. The others at the table exchanged apprehensive glances, their meal quite forgotten.
“Prim? Celia? Nighttime callers?” demanded Hugh. They looked at him and sorrowfully shook their heads. “Miss Emily?”
“She had a nightmare,” whispered Emily. “She was talking in her sleep. I heard her.”
“No one else saw him,” declared Kate impatiently. Really, they were wasting her time.
“How convenient,” murmured her guardian dryly.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Kate. “I know it seems impossible, but you just have to believe me. Adele’s your own relation, after all. Haven’t you learned anything from her story?”
“Miss Winslow,” remarked Hugh Roberts distantly, “we don’t concern ourselves with old gossip. We live in the nineteenth century now. Not even Mrs. Bigelow really believes her goblin tales.”
Kate glanced, surprised, at the housekeeper, who was watching her anxiously. The pleasant woman gave an embarrassed shrug and looked away. Kate paused, deeply frustrated, and looked around the table at the others. They all looked as if they wished they were somewhere else. She took a deep breath and tried again.
“I understand your doubts,” she said reasonably. “I can see why you thought we invented our walk home the other night. There are parallels to Adele’s story, of course. It would be easy to think that we had heard it and decided to make up our own, but I promise you that we didn’t. I would be happy to show you proof if only I had it. But please believe me,” she insisted as calmly as she could. “I’m in terrible danger. I’m not lying to you.”