Frost Hollow Hall (12 page)

‘Feels like the middle of the night. What time is it?’

‘Just after five. Come on now, hurry!’

Getting out of the warm bed was agony. As I reached for my clothes, I saw two bruises on my upper arm, and with a jolt remembered last night on the stairs. Something,
someone
had grabbed me hard.

‘Blimey Tilly!’ Gracie had seen them too. She came closer with her candle. ‘Who did that to you?’

‘Don’t know,’ I said, because I couldn’t quite believe Kit would do such a thing.

‘Well, it’s bruised up a right treat,’ said Gracie. ‘Looks like someone pinched you. Let me see again.’

‘Not now,’ I said, pulling my frock on quick. It was much too early for more ghost talk.

The water at the washstand was frozen. But I didn’t want to appear before Dorcas looking like a dog’s breakfast, and the ice broke easy enough. A quick smooth of the hair, a fix of the cap and I was ready. Gracie led the way with the candle. She didn’t seem flustered this morning, and was back to her usual, chirpy self. There was nothing remarkable about the staircase either. If it hadn’t been for the marks on my arm, I might have thought I’d imagined the whole thing.

At the bottom of the stairs, the warmth from the kitchens hit me. The gas jets burned so bright it made me blink. We went straight to the servants’ hall where Dorcas was waiting, looking neat as a pin in her striped frock. First she straightened my cap so it sat properly on the back of my head. Then she showed me how to tuck up my skirts to keep them from the dirt.

‘Now, we work quick as lightning,’ she said, fixing me with her pretty grey eyes. ‘We’re back below stairs by seven thirty at the latest. That’s when the family rise, and it’s not proper to be caught at your work. The Barringtons don’t want to see you covered in coal dust.’

But hadn’t Gracie said I’d see them?
Today?
I tried to keep the disappointment from my face.

‘The fires’ll need a lot of coal this morning,’ Dorcas said. ‘It’s perishing cold.’

‘The usual rooms?’ said Gracie.

‘Yes.’

‘What,
all
of them? Even the bedroom? Can’t we skip it today, just this once?’

Dorcas rolled her eyes. ‘You know the rules.’

‘But it’s such a pain, lugging coal all the way up there.’

I glanced at Gracie, and noticed shadows under her eyes. She was also twisting her apron again.

But Dorcas was having none of it. ‘There’ll be fires where fires is needed. That’s what you’re paid to do.’

She turned to me. ‘You take this.’ And she handed me a wooden pail topped with a tray of brushes and rags. ‘Gracie, bring the coal up to the library.’

Gracie sloped off, muttering to herself. Dorcas led me back out into the passageway. Doors slammed. Cook shouted orders. The kitchen maid scurried to and fro with armfuls of plates and baskets of vegetables. Round a corner and up some steps, we came to a door covered in green felt. Yesterday, I’d seen Dorcas go through it with countless trays. On the other side of the door was
above stairs
. And that meant the Barringtons. My heart beat faster as Dorcas reached for the door handle.

‘Stop a moment,’ said a stern voice behind us.

We both turned. Mrs Jessop stood in the passage. ‘Where are you taking her?’ she said, meaning me.

‘To do the fires, Mrs Jessop,’ said Dorcas. ‘We need to get on.’

As Mrs Jessop’s gaze rested on me, my insides went all of a flutter like I’d done something wrong again.

‘Very well,’ she said. ‘There’s a jar of ointment in the kitchen for Tilly’s hands. See that she uses it. We can’t have our staff looking ill-treated. This is a fine house with standards. We need to remember it.’

Dorcas shot me a sideways look.

‘One more thing,’ Mrs Jessop said. ‘Gracie must do the front bedroom. Tilly will be needed down here once Cook starts the luncheon.’

And with a whisk of her skirts, she was gone.

Dorcas narrowed her eyes at me. ‘Can’t keep her oar out where you’re concerned, can she?’

‘It’s ’cos I’m new, I s’pose.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s more than that. Anyway, we’ve got work to do. Come on.’

She opened the door and we stepped out into a vast hallway. The door closed behind us. Everything went quiet and still as a church.

‘This way,’ she said.

I stared about me. Honest to God, you’d have fitted our whole house inside this very hallway and still had room for a garden. The ceiling was high and arched, the floor all dark red marble and so polished it seemed a shame to walk on it. Rows of paintings in thick gold frames hung on the walls. And up ahead, to my right, a staircase curved up and up, the handrail done in fancy wood. No back staircase this: lamps shone from the walls, right up to the first landing and beyond.

‘Tilly!’

I stopped gawping and hurried over to where Dorcas waited. We went through a door into a dimly lit room. Bookshelves reached from floor to ceiling, so I reckoned this must be the library though it was as cold as the attic in here, and the place was quite a shambles. Books covered every surface – floors, desks, tabletops. Chairs were strewn about, rugs kicked up at the corners, and dirty glasses littered the mantelpiece. The fire was a heap of cold ashes in the grate.

Dorcas looked about her, hands on hips. ‘He was up late again last night, by the looks of it.’

‘Lord Barrington?’

‘Mind you, he’s usually in London. And when he’s here, he don’t sleep well. Not now.’

My ears pricked up at this; I was dying to hear more, but Dorcas had started clearing the glasses and tidying the chairs. She beckoned me over to help. As we knelt down to straighten the rugs, she dropped her voice to a whisper.

‘I’ve worked here over ten years now, and I’ve seen how things have changed.’

‘Really?’

‘Ever since Master Kit died. Nothing’s been right here since then.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Well,’ she sighed. ‘They say people never get over the death of a child. It’s certainly true in this house.’

An ache filled my chest. How sad this all was.

‘You’ve gone pale. Not sick, are you?’ said Dorcas. She looked uneasy, like she’d said too much and it wasn’t her place to gossip. Getting to her feet, she rubbed her hands briskly.

‘I’m all right,’ I said.

But I got up too fast and leaned on a nearby chair to steady myself. Glancing down, I jumped clean out of my skin.

A sleeping man was sprawled in the chair. At least, he was only just asleep, since he twitched and stretched like he was about to wake up. I backed away in shock.

‘What
is
the matter?’ said Dorcas. As I pointed to the chair, her face softened and she lowered her voice. ‘Oh! Is it his Lordship?’

How the flip was I supposed to know who it was?

‘Right, Tilly, stop dreaming!’ she hissed. ‘I’ll open the shutters, you do the lamps, then we’ll see to the fire. If we’re quick and quiet, he won’t even know we’ve been.’

Once Dorcas turned her back, I took a good long look at him. Lord Barrington’s legs were crossed neatly at the ankle and his head rested back against the cushion. He looked familiar too. Achingly so.

I took a shaky step backwards.

This was Kit’s pa; one peep at him told me that. He was fair, like Kit, and though his eyes were shut, the same long lashes curled out from under his lids. How odd to be stood here, staring at Kit’s own flesh and blood!

Then I sensed Dorcas beside me. ‘Handsome, isn’t he?’ she whispered. ‘You should’ve seen the son.’

I gasped out loud.

She’d known Kit; living, breathing Kit!

It was a struggle to contain myself. But if I opened my mouth now, it’d come out all jumbled up and sounding crazy. She didn’t believe Gracie’s ghost talk, so why the heck would she believe mine?

‘Now come over here,’ said Dorcas. She pulled back the hearth rug and put a cloth down on the floor. She bid me kneel beside her.

‘Watch,’ she said. ‘There’s a knack to lighting these open fires.’

It was a job to tear my gaze from Lord Barrington. But I paid attention best I could; I’d never lit a fire in a fancy fireplace like this before. And it was an art, the way Dorcas did it. She cleaned the grate then blacked it ’til her hands were filthy and the hearth shone. Next, she took kindling sticks and paper and had it aflame in an instant. She added what coal was left, then sat back looking pleased.

‘Never use more than seven kindling sticks, that’s the rule,’ she said. Then she turned to me. ‘Look lively! There’s still the dining-room and sitting-room fires to do.’

‘And that
bedroom
,’ said Gracie, who’d appeared in the doorway with two full coal buckets.

Dorcas put a finger to her lips. ‘Ssssh! His Lordship’s asleep in here. Get yourself upstairs.’

‘Can’t I do the dining room instead?’ said Gracie.

‘Now then . . . I’m warning you!’

A groan came from the chair. Dorcas froze. I held my breath. Lord Barrington’s legs twitched and he turned over.

‘I’ll go with her,’ I said.

Dorcas glanced at the mantel clock, then back at us.

‘All right, give me that coal and get gone. Be quick, mind, or Mrs Jessop’ll have my guts for garters.’

Out in the hallway, Gracie grabbed my hand. ‘Bless you. It’s not about lugging stuff up and down stairs. I’m used to that.’

‘What is it, then?’

‘It’s that bedroom. I hate it. It gives me the creeps. Always has done, ever since I started work here. They keep a fire burning up there every day and we in’t allowed to let it go out, not even at night-time.’

‘Sounds a bit odd,’ I said.

‘Well, it was his room, see. The boy, their son what drowned.’

A thrill went though me.

‘Tell you what,’ I said, thinking fast. ‘Why don’t I go on up and do the fire? You could just bring the coal.’

It’d only give me minutes. And I’d no idea what I’d find up there, apart from this fire business. Even so, it was a pretty exciting start.

‘Would you do that?
Really?
’ Gracie’s face lit up like I’d given her a gold sovereign.

‘I left you on the stairs last night, remember? I owe you.’

‘But there’s other stuff to do in there too. It’s all very particular.’

‘Well, I’ll make a start. The rest we can do together,’ I said, which seemed to please her. ‘Now tell me, which room is it?’

‘Up the stairs, turn right. Last door on your right. It’s at the front of the house.’

I waited ’til she was out of sight. Then I grabbed my skirts and legged it up the stairs.

19

Waiting on the Dead

At the top of the stairs, I turned right. Up ahead was a passage full of doors. My brain went blank.

Which room was Kit’s? Left? Right?

Then Gracie’s words came back to me, and I headed for the furthest door. I counted each one as I passed it, stopping at the last to wipe my hands on my skirt. The handle felt cool as I gripped it. I checked over my shoulder. Gracie worked fast, so I didn’t have long. Five minutes maybe, ten at the most and she’d be back with her buckets of coal. I pushed the door open. Legs shaking, I stepped inside.

The lamps were lit and the room was unusually warm because a good fire glowed in the grate. I stared about me. Books lay open on a table, fresh clothes were draped over the chair. There was a half-empty glass of water, a pen with its lid off, bed covers all crumpled and slept in.

My stomach dropped. It was the wrong room. Someone had spent the night in here. Any minute they might be back, and I’d get caught where I shouldn’t be.

Too late.

The door handle turned. Someone was coming in.

I froze. There was nowhere to hide. My heart started pounding and my mouth turned dry. Here I was, snooping again. It didn’t look good at all.

A pair of grubby hands and a bucket of coal appeared. Gracie stuck her head through the half-open door. I gasped with relief.

‘I got this from the library. Dorcas didn’t need it all. Here, take it,’ she said.

She handed me the bucket. I took it, bewildered. So I was in the right place. This
was
Kit’s room.

Over by the hearth, a pair of filthy riding boots caught my eye. They stood upright like someone had just stepped out of them. A chill came over me. What queer business was going on here?

‘Gracie, why . . . ?’

‘I’ll be back in a minute. I’m just going to get the water.’

‘What water?’ Suddenly I didn’t want to be left here on my own.

‘Every morning I bring up a jug of hot for the washstand. It sits there and goes cold.’

She must have seen the shock in my face.

‘I know. Mad, in’t it? It’s her Ladyship’s special request, though God knows we’ve got enough to do without waiting on someone who’s dead.’

My head began to spin. ‘So . . . wait . . . this . . .’ I waved an arm at the books, the used pen. ‘Is it all Kit’s? Are these things
his
?’

Gracie shuddered in the doorway. ‘Yes. As it was on the day he died, exactly. No one’s been allowed to move nothing since. We just dust, that’s all.’

It was too strange for words. All right, so people wore black when their loved ones died. The Queen had pined for poor Prince Albert for years on end. Yet this room, so full of Kit, was like a blinking museum. My heart was beating very fast. The room felt too warm, too close.

But before I knew it, I’d crossed to the bed. The head-shaped dip in the pillow was still there, and the covers had been thrown back carelessly. It was like he’d just got up and left the room, like he’d be back any minute to get dressed in the clothes laid out on his chair. Heck, I even reckoned the sheets might still be warm. If I just slid my fingers in . . .

‘Don’t touch nothing!’ cried Gracie.

I snatched my hands back quick. She looked at me oddly.

‘Do the fire like you promised and keep your hands off the rest,’ she said. ‘And I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

She shut the door behind her.

Everything was quiet and hushed, but for the murmur of flames in the grate. This had to be the saddest, strangest place I’d ever been. I didn’t know quite what to do with myself, feeling a great ache grow inside of me. I went over to the window, pulled back the drapes and eased open the shutters. My breath misted up the cold glass. I rubbed it clear and saw it was almost daylight now. The sky was pale, the lawns deep white and the driveway flanked by banks of snow curved round to the main steps beneath me.