Frost Hollow Hall (23 page)

Of a sudden, Will tensed up. ‘Listen. Can you hear it?’

‘Hear what?’

‘A rustling noise. Someone’s coming.’

‘Oh heck!’

His eyes were fixed on something in the copse. We both stood still for what seemed like an age. Then Will relaxed.

‘It was probably just a deer. Anyway, it’s gone now.’ He turned to me. ‘So, where exactly did you see Mrs Jessop yesterday?’

‘Right here. On these steps, with some paper screwed up in her hand.’

Will drew a long breath.

‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘If it was the missing page, then she might’ve hidden it inside.’

‘Wouldn’t hurt to look.’

The door to the ice house stuck fast. We grabbed hold together and gave a specially sharp tug. The door snagged against the ground, then swung open. The air inside smelled rank. My heart was racing now.

‘Stay here and keep watch,’ I said to Will.

‘Take this, then.’ He lit the lantern and handed it to me.

I edged my way in slowly. The lantern didn’t help much; in fact, it made the dark seem darker. Up close the walls were grimy brick, the floor a foul-smelling mess of wet straw. The roof pressed in on me so that I was almost bent double. The only sound was the slow drip of icy water draining away at my feet. Up ahead was the pit of ice. I felt the chill of it even from here. My spirits sank. Nothing else looked different. Nothing had changed. Before I knew it, the same hot panic rose up in my chest. I had to get out. Now.

I groped my way back to the entrance. Just as I reached it my fingers touched something rough in the wall. I stopped. Holding the lantern up, I peered closer. One brick jutted out an inch from the rest. My hands shook as I gripped it. It came away easily enough. And there, stuffed in the damp space where the brick had been, was a scrunched-up piece of paper.

Outside, I showed it to Will.

‘Blimey! You were right!’ he said, his eyes all wide. ‘Have a quick look and then we need to get out of here.’

He cleared the snow from the top step. I was glad to sit down, for my legs were shaking. And now I had the thing right here in my flipping hand, I felt ill at the thought of reading it. I breathed deep, made my eyes focus on the page.

35

February 6th 1871

It didn’t make sense on first sight. For this diary entry wasn’t like the others. There was no mention of cleaning tasks or who’d eaten what. This was all thoughts, laid out like a broken list on the page. It didn’t appear to have been written all in one go but in snatches during the day; the dashes at the edge of the page seemed to show this.

It started angrily:

– Sick at sight of Lady B this morning, breakfasting happily with her dear son, when my darling child lies ill in a stranger’s house, and I cannot go to her. Such agony! I anxiously await news of how she does. Cannot eat for fear it will be bad.

Then some time later:

– An ugly big crow flew into the kitchens and sat on top of the dresser, eyeballing us all. Dorcas kept quiet about deaths today, but I saw the look she gave Cook. Everyone fears the worst, I know it.

– Word comes from the cottage – the news is bad. A’s fever rages. She cries out for me and for Kit. O how am I to bear this?

– Still Lady B refuses my plea to go to A. She speaks as if I’ve forgotten my duty to Frost Hollow Hall. We only have one heir, she says. We must keep infection from the house, no matter what. Hateful, hateful woman with no heart of her own! Is she not a mother too?

– And what a change there is in K! Now he mopes in his room. His mood is foul, with not a kind word for anyone. Does he not care for his friend any more, when just a few days ago she was his ‘dearest’? How fickle he is! It seems he has truly forgotten A. Am I the only one wishing to see her? Is he really, truly heartless? I am sunk too low. I fear I will put the pen right through the page if I write any more.

– The strangest thing has just happened. I came into the kitchen and swear,
SWEAR
, I saw my A wiping dry the china. My heart leapt for joy. I was sure she was recovered and come back to me. Only she put down her cloth and went out of the back door. I rushed after her into the courtyard, but there was no sign of her. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.

– Calmer now. Luncheon over. Place is quiet. No one will notice. I have to go to A. I have no choice.

I turned the page over, confused. I’d not expected to feel pity for Mrs Jessop. Yet now I did. The stuff about Kit threw me even more. Was he really such an uncaring toad?

The next entry, in a different pen and with much crossing out, seemed to have been written later that day. Reading it, I went completely cold.

– I have done a terrible thing. My hand trembles so much I can hardly write, but there may be some comfort yet in getting these words onto the page.

I stole away from the Hall with a heart full of dread. The way to the cottage took me right past the lake. There, some distance from the bank I saw a person skating on the ice. It was a cruel sight to see someone so joyous, so carefree, today of all days. It was then I noticed that the ice looked thin; in places, the water was already coming through. I stopped to call out a warning. I think I even cleared my throat. Then I saw who the person was.

Master Kit.

A sudden rage seized me. What foolish mother would let her son come skating when the lake was not properly frozen? And why was he here? What right did he have to enjoy himself when my baby lay dying in her bed? He was heartless, like his mother. If he fell through the ice, if he perished, what would she feel then?

An agony just like mine.

I didn’t shout a warning. I walked on by, and reached the cottage too late. My darling girl never knew I’d come. By the time I reached her, her eyes were shut, her breathing changed. And I knew that what I’d seen earlier in the kitchen was her departing spirit come to see me, come to say goodbye. She died fever-warm, in my arms. It was over. And I was now dead without her.

It was agony to leave again. But some time later, I set off back to the Hall. Yet Death still stalked me. At the lake, o horror, I found Master Kit face down in the water. God knows I tried to pull him free, but he was too heavy, too cold. Too long dead.

I was to blame. I could have saved him. This terrible deed was all mine.

How I got home I don’t recall. Somehow, I raised the alarm and the men went to bring Master Kit home. That my pain as a mother would now be shared – doubled – was no comfort at all. I believe I lost my wits for a time.

Now as I lie here in my room, my hand no longer shakes. The doctor’s draught has helped me, or maybe the act of writing down these words is a balm to my soul. I think not. My heart has been torn from my chest and the wound left deep and open. I wonder that I am still alive, since this is the worst agony of all. I wish . . . no . . . pray that I might be dead of it come morning.

– Mr Phelps has just been. He tells me Kit’s body is laid out in his bedchamber. Great fires have been ordered. Her Ladyship thinks the warmth will revive him. She fools herself. Her son is too long dead. He was cold when I found him, much colder than my Ada. And now I hear a terrible wailing noise from somewhere deep in the house, and the opening and closing of many doors. I feel nothing. It is even an effort to breathe.

I became aware of Will rubbing my shoulder.

‘Say something, won’t you?’

I opened my mouth but the words seemed to stick in my throat. I took a few shaky breaths and blew my nose in the hankie Will held out to me.

‘Tell me what it says,’ he said, gently.

‘Mrs Jessop . . .’

But I didn’t know where to start so I thrust the page at him. ‘You’d better read it yourself.’

I got to my feet. My head felt full. One word of warning, that’s all it would’ve taken. Just one flipping word and Kit might be here now.

My temper flared. I couldn’t keep still, pacing up and down ’til the snow wore thin and the grass underneath showed through. I sure as hell didn’t feel sorry for Mrs Jessop any more. I fancied ripping her measly eyes out.

Will gave a low whistle once he’d finished reading.

‘A right old mess, isn’t it?’ he said, rubbing his jaw. ‘No wonder she wanted to keep it secret.’

‘She could’ve saved Kit, and she didn’t!’

‘She was upset. Her daughter was dying.’

‘That don’t mean what she did was right!’

‘’Course it don’t. But it don’t make Mrs Jessop a villain, neither.’

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ I said. ‘Back in the kitchens, you was on Lady Barrington’s side.’

‘It isn’t that simple. ’Specially not now I’ve read this.’

Will handed the piece of paper back to me. I stuffed it in my pocket, suddenly unsure of any of it, when what I really needed was answers.

‘So, who
is
the villain, then?’ I said.

‘Heck, I don’t know. They both did a pretty shoddy thing.’

I didn’t want to hear this;
someone
was to blame for Kit’s death all right, and Mrs Jessop seemed a good place to start. As I turned it all over in my mind, I grew aware of how the wind had got up. Birds circled unsteadily above the tree tops and the air felt soft against my face.

‘It’s getting warmer,’ I said.

Somewhere behind us a gate clicked shut.

‘Sssh!’ Will went still.

Men’s voices carried on the wind. A dog yammered like it was on the scent of something. Someone shouted.

Will met my eye in alarm. ‘We’d better get out of here.’

We picked our way down the path, keeping low and hidden under the trees. We didn’t speak a word, though already a plan was forming in my head. When we’d almost reached the courtyard again, Will made to go off down another track.

‘This way,’ he said. ‘Cut through here and we’ll be at the gates in no time.’

I stopped. ‘I can’t go yet . . .’

Behind us, something crashed through the bushes. We turned to see a huge black dog hurling down the path towards us.

‘Run!’ cried Will.

I couldn’t move. A blur of teeth and tongue barged past me. I staggered but somehow didn’t fall. Will was already running. The dog raced after him. It gained on him in no time.

Will’s head whipped round at the dog’s first bite. He kicked with all his might, sending it sprawling into the snow. Snapping and snarling, it lunged at him again. A scream rose up in my throat. I waved my arms like a mad thing. I yelled. I roared, running straight at the dog. One look at me and it stopped in its tracks, then sloped back off into the bushes towards the men’s voices. They sounded closer now.

I rushed to Will’s side. ‘Can you walk?’

Gingerly, he raised his trouser leg. The bite was deep and ragged. Blood poured down his calf into the snow.

‘It don’t look good,’ he said, gritting his teeth.

Three men were now coming down the path with the dog at their heels.

‘Here they are!’ said one, slapping a thick stick against his palm. I recognised him at once. It was Jake, the thug who’d caught us last time.

Will turned pale beside me. A figure came running out from the courtyard, dark skirts bunched up in her hand.

‘Leave those children alone, do you hear me?’ she cried.

The men stopped. Jake slipped his fingers through the dog’s collar. I felt Will sway against me and caught him just in time as Mrs Jessop came striding through the snow towards us.

36

Things Turn Nasty

The fear took hold of me. We’d been caught fair and square. Things were about to turn nasty. I braced myself for it, but one look at Will’s leg and Mrs Jessop ordered Jake to carry him straight inside. I followed right behind. The household was up now, the kitchens busy. Gracie’s mouth fell open as we trailed blood in through the back door.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’ she cried.

I shook my head at her. No one else stopped to explain.

We went to Mrs Jessop’s office where, with a grunt, Jake dropped Will into the nearest chair and disappeared sharpish. Mrs Jessop closed the door behind him. She stood very still, her arms folded across her chest. I hovered uneasily at Will’s side. Any second she’d spot a notebook out of place and guess what we’d been up to. Yet the fear in me was fast turning to anger. I knew her guilty secret now, the part she’d played in Kit’s death.

Mrs Jessop didn’t seem interested in her bookshelves, or even poor old Will. She was looking straight at me.

‘Well,’ she said.

Briefly, I met her eye. Then my gaze fell to her snow-crusted boots. Dead leaves were caught up in her skirts.
Odd
. There weren’t any trees on the lawn where she’d found us.

‘I believe you have something of mine,’ she said.

Will coughed nervously. I felt my cheeks burn.

‘Like what?’ I said, though my blasted hand went straight to the greatcoat pocket.

‘You know very well.’

I felt myself go redder, as if that gaze of hers could see right into my soul.

That’s right, Mrs Jessop, I do know very well. I know exactly what you did.

She held out her hand, palm upwards, twitching her fingers at me.

‘Come on, give it to me.’

I stood my ground.

‘I’m warning you, Tilly.’

‘I can’t believe what you did!’ I blurted out. ‘Kit might’ve lived if you’d warned him!’

Her eyes flicked over me. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’

‘Oh, but I do. It’s all written down.’

‘Give it to me!’

She lunged at me. I jumped back smartly. She stopped, breathing hard. A lock of hair had come loose across her face.

‘You’d better hand it over, young lady, or else I swear I’ll . . .’ And she went for me again, her arm raised like she was about to clout me one.