Finished Off (A Bellehaven House Mystery Book 2) (8 page)

"She would if she went looking for us."

Olivia glared at her. "Do you want to be a WSPU member or not?"

"Yes, but—"

"Are you prepared to carry out orders without question
as expected of you? Like you swore you would when you became a member?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then are you or are you not willing to go into Witcheston tomorrow to carry out those orders?"

Grace hesitated. "All right, yes, but—"

Olivia threw up her hands in exasperation. "But
what
?"

"I'm not setting fire to no church, so there."

"You've been
ordered
to burn it, so you'll have to follow orders."

Grace felt her lower lip trembling. "God will strike us down dead if we desecrate His house."

Olivia smacked a pile of dishes down on her tray so hard the top plate bounced. "Don't be daft. We're doing it for a good cause." She scowled at her friend. "We're helping to get equal rights for women. We're fighting the government so we can vote."

"I know all that." Grace shook her head. "But damaging a church, Livvie. "That's really awful."

"Not when the Church of England is against everything we're fighting for, it's not."

Realizing she was getting nowhere, Grace tried another tactic. "How are we going to get there and back, anyway?"

"Same way we did before. We'll hitch a lift into town."

Grace let out a cry of protest. "I've still got bruises from the last time. Bumping around in that farmer's cart with all them smelly vegetables—it was horrid."

"Don't be such a baby." Olivia picked up the heavy tray and balanced it against her hip. "You're a suffragette now, Gracie. Brave, strong, and determined. Women's rights. That's what matters. Down with the government." She stomped out of the dining hall humming a marching song.

Grace picked up her own tray and followed her, reflecting gloomily that the last time someone thrust a placard in her hands that said "Down with the Government," she knocked over a policeman and had to run for her life.

She had a nasty feeling that this upcoming adventure was going to turn out every bit as badly as the last one.

Meredith woke up with a start, a thin sheen of cold
sweat bathing her brow. She had been dreaming that she was trying to rescue Emma Lewis from a burning tree, and the flames were getting hotter and hotter.

She wasn't hot at all, though. There was a chill in the room, a deep penetrating chill that caused her entire body to shiver, in spite of the warm blankets covering her.

She sat up in bed, already anticipating the vision that hovered in the corner of the room. There it was, just a pale, green glow, no more than four feet high.

Fumbling for the matches, she found them and quickly struck one. Afraid that the ghost would vanish before she had a chance to talk to her, she reached for her oil lamp, almost knocking it over in her haste to get it lit.

At last the yellow light spilled across the room, turning the green glow into a soft white mist. In the center of it, the figure of the child ebbed and flowed, distinct for two or three seconds, before fading again.

Cursing her inability to hold the image steady, Meredith lifted the lamp to see her more clearly. "Hello, Emma. I'm really happy you came to see me again."

The mist moved, as if startled. For a brief moment the child's face looked out at her, streaked with tears, then melted away in the mist.

Alarmed, Meredith leaned forward. "Don't go! I need to know what you want from me. I can't help you unless you help me."

The mist dwindled to a mere puff of cloud, then expanded again. Once more the vision of the child appeared. An arm floated up, seemingly unattached from the body, and a childish finger pointed at the chest of drawers.

"I went there," Meredith said. "I went to Chest House. I learned about your family. I'm so sorry. But—"

She broke off as the finger jumped up and down in
agitation. Frowning, she stared at the chest. The child had to be pointing to something on it. Quickly she slipped out of bed, and barefoot, padded across the floor. Picking up the photograph, she held it out to the ghost, who had once more retreated inside the misty cloud. "Is this what you're pointing at?"

The mist faded a little. With a sense of desperation, Meredith snatched up the clock. "Is it this?"

The ethereal cloud dwindled even more.

Meredith pushed the clock to one side and took hold of her statuette. "This?"

She caught her breath as the cloud exploded with light. The child's face gazed out at her with such a beseeching look in the blue eyes that Meredith cried out in frustration. Then, in a flash of a second, she was gone.

With fingers that violently trembled, Meredith stood the statuette back on the chest. For several long moments she stared at the delicate figure of the mother clasping the tiny baby to her breast. Tears pricked her eyes. The poor child missed her mother. How dreadful that they hadn't been reunited in death.

Meredith caught her breath. Was that what the child wanted? To be reunited with her loved ones? Was that her mission? To bring them all together in death, as they had been in life?

But how was she to achieve this? She knew nothing about the world beyond the living. She had assumed that Kathleen had come to her as a ghost because she was trapped in the school grounds and Meredith was her closest friend.

But Kathleen had brought the child to her just before she had passed on. Surely she knew that Meredith wasn't capable of such an enormous task—to reunite a family separated by death?

Climbing back into bed, Meredith muttered aloud. "You expect too much of me, Kathleen. I have not the slightest idea how to go about such a quest."

She closed her eyes, making a determined effort to go
back to sleep. It was a long time, however, before she could let go of the guilt and frustration enough to drift into a doze.

She was dreaming. A burning house and she was inside. Searching for something, yet she had not the slightest idea what she was searching for or where to look.

Once more she jerked awake, to find the first fingers of daylight creeping across the sky. Then it came to her, what she must do. The dream. She had to search the house. Emma's house. The answer lay there. She had no idea where, only that it was there, and Emma wanted her to find it. With a renewed sense of hope, she scrambled out of bed.

Chapter 6

Grace huffed and puffed as she tramped along the
wet road, trailing behind Olivia, whose brisk step had taken her several yards ahead.

The rain fell steadily, dripping off the brim of Grace's hat and soaking her gloves. Although she did her best to avoid the deeper puddles, the wet hem of her skirt flapped around her ankles, and her feet squelched inside her buttoned shoes. This, she thought sourly, was even worse than being jolted around in a smelly farmer's cart. Right now she'd gladly climb aboard anything that had a roof and a dry spot to sit.

Ahead of her, Olivia spun around and beckoned with an impatient arm. "Come on, droopy drawers. We'll never get there if you don't hurry up."

"We're not going to get there, anyway," Grace grumbled. "Not if we have to walk all the way."

"We won't have to walk all the way, silly." Olivia raised her hands to tighten the scarf she'd tied over her hat. "Once we get to the crossroads, there'll be farmers on the way to town. We'll get a lift, like we did last time."

"Last time it wasn't raining." Grace caught up with her friend and gave her a fierce glare.

"What's that got to do with it?" Olivia turned her back on her and continued marching forward. "We're suffragettes, aren't we? Forward and onward, no matter what stands in our way!" She raised a fist above her head and started humming.

Grace rolled her eyes. If she'd had any idea what she would have to suffer for the cause, she might have changed her mind about joining the WSPU.

Women's Social and Political Union. It should be called Women's Stupid Pranks Union. It wasn't going to get them anywhere. What was the use of smashing windows? Even if women got the vote, how would they know who to vote for? Everything that had to do with government was kept a big, dark secret.

So deep was she into her inner ranting, she failed to notice Olivia had stopped marching until she bumped into her.

"Ouch!" Olivia glared at her. "You trod on my toes."

"Sorry." Grace pulled off her wet glove and squeezed it to get some of the water out of it. "What'd you stop for, anyhow?"

"We're at the crossroads, aren't we." Olivia peered down the lane at the dripping hedges. "There's a tree down there. Let's stand underneath it while we wait for a farmer to come along."

Muttering under her breath, Grace followed her down the lane to the gnarled and twisted oak tree. It had lost most of its leaves, and provided little shelter from the rain.

Olivia leaned her back against the soaked trunk. "We shouldn't have to wait long."

"I hope not, or my hands are going to shrivel up." Grace hugged her own shoulders. "I hope Mona doesn't hear about this. She'll lock us up for a month if she finds out where we went."

"She won't find out if you don't tell her."

"Mrs. Wilkins will know we're gone."

"No, she won't. I told her we'd been ordered to clean out the attic. I told her it would most likely take us all day."

Grace shot her a look of grudging respect. "That was clever. But what if she goes up there?"

"She's not going up there, is she. With her creaking old bones, she'd never be able to climb those steep, narrow stairs."

"I hope not." Grace shivered. "I hate to think what trouble we'd be in if we got caught again."

"That's nothing to the trouble we'd be in if we got caught breaking windows. So you'd better pay attention and do everything you're told." Olivia shuffled through the wet leaves to get a better look down the lane. "Listen! I hear horses' hooves. Looks like our ride will be along any minute."

Even the thought of a dry place to sit did nothing to settle Grace's stomach. She was too busy worrying about what would happen to her if the bobbies caught them. The consequences were too dreadful to even think about.

As the plodding horse came into view, she thought very seriously about running off, back to the warmth and safety of Bellehaven. But Olivia had already hailed the farmer, and the cart was slowing down to a halt.

There was no turning back now. She was in this whether she liked it or not, and she would just have to hope that they could get through all this without ending up sitting in some cold, damp prison cell.

After announcing that she had errands to run, Mer
edith set off later that morning. Fortunately she had an hour or so before she had to be back in the classroom, and Reggie had assured her he knew where to find Meadow Lane.

With raindrops spattering on the window of the carriage, they jogged along the narrow lanes until Reggie pulled up at a crossroads.

Meredith waited while he climbed down from his perch and opened the door. "It's just a short walk from here, m'm," he said, holding out his hand to assist her. "I'll turn Major around and wait for you here."

She allowed him to take her arm as she stepped down onto the wet road. "Thank you, Reggie. I shan't be long."

He frowned down at her. "Want me to come with you, m'm?"

"Thank you, but no. I can manage quite well on my own."

He continued to scowl. "I know it's none of my business, m'm, but I do have to wonder why you want to go visiting a burnt-out house with nobody living in it."

Meredith nodded. "Quite right, Reggie. It is none of your business."

He shrugged. "Only asking, m'm, that's all. Just be careful in there, and give me a shout if you need me."

She glanced up at him. He wore no hat, and his fair hair hung in wet strands over his forehead. His limp mustache drooped over his chin and a rivulet of water ran down his nose and clung there for a second or two before falling to his chest. "You really need to cover your head when it rains." She wagged a finger at him. "You'll catch your death of cold running around like that."

"Nah, I'm used to it, aren't I." He shook his head, and drops of water flew off in all directions.

"Well, I insist that you wait inside the carriage until I return."

"Very well, m'm. Much obliged, I'm sure." He touched his forehead with his fingers.

She nodded, then left him to turn the carriage around as she hurried down the lane.

The house lay back from the road, with a driveway leading up to the main steps. Meredith paused when she caught sight of the ruined home. Part of the roof had burned away, and she could see the charred beams of what once must have been the main bedroom.

She could almost hear the screams from that poor child
as she watched her family burn to their death. How awful that they had no time to escape. That poor little baby who died with them. At least he was with them now in the hereafter, whereas poor little Emma still wandered alone, desperate to find her family again.

Once more Meredith was struck with the awesome task she'd been set. Somehow she had to find the answers in this house, because if not, she had no idea how to go about reuniting the child with her parents.

The front door stood slightly ajar, and swung open at her touch. The acrid smell of smoke poured out of the house to envelop her. It occurred to her that she could be treading on dangerous ground. There was no telling if the structure was unstable.

Stepping inside the hallway, Meredith felt an awful sense of abandonment. Water had heavily stained the carpet on the stairs, and the scorched banisters at the top leaned at a perilous angle overhanging the entrance below.

The stench of burning stung her nose and throat, and she left the front door wide open to allow clean air to enter. The walls had been stripped of paintings, and a broken chandelier swung in the light breeze drifting in from the doorway.

The first door on her right proved to be the living room. This room showed no devastation, though it had also been emptied out. The smoke had not reached here, and the wallpaper still clothed the room with its golden glow of swirling leaves and elegant tendrils.