Island of Bones (51 page)

Harriet laughed quietly. ‘And its magic? She still believes in it?’

‘She said the Luck lost only its jewels, not its power, and asked me if we cut the lace from your cuffs and dressed you in plain stuff, would you, Mrs Westerman, not remain a remarkable and lovely woman?’ Harriet felt herself flush. Crowther continued quietly, ‘She told me it was not my father’s fault. That the Luck wished to remain here, and called to him to avoid being removed by Greta or his followers, then paid him in evil coin.’

Harriet considered this in silence until movement on the path from Portinscale caught her eye, and she stood up swiftly. A woman in a brightly coloured skirt was moving up the hill towards them, a boy
something over Stephen’s age with her, and a terrier chasing around her as she walked.

Crowther could not turn so easily with his shoulder stiff. ‘Who is it, Mrs Westerman?’

‘Oh Crowther, it is Jocasta Bligh!’ Harriet said, getting to her feet and waving. ‘Casper’s sister has come to him!’ A stab of sadness struck her and she dropped her hand. She loved her sister too, not well always, perhaps. But sincerely.

‘Harry!’

She looked up again: just rounding the corner she saw a man and woman arm-in-arm. Her heart soared. It was Rachel – she had come, and with her fiance Daniel Clode at her side. They led a sturdy-limbed toddler by the hand.

‘Oh, Anne!’ Harriet cried, and Crowther watched her as she ran down the slope towards her daughter. He saw her swing her child into the air then kiss her sister.

Whatever their disagreements, it seemed they were forgotten for the moment. Clode’s warm voice carried up the path towards him. ‘We are all come,’ the young man was saying. ‘We thought a show of force from Thornleigh Hall might be of use to you all. Graves, Jonathan and Susan, Mrs Service – the whole circus, all waving the family crest around like a good luck charm! The others are arranging our accommodation at the Oak, and Susan has already agreed to play at the re-opening of the museum. We had to come at once though and embrace you, Harry! Where is Mr Crowther? Is he up and about yet? Oh, I see him! Good-day sir. Is that Mrs Briggs at the door? Mrs Briggs! Delighted to make your acquaintance! No, we could not possibly dine with you here, our numbers are even more than you see . . .’

Crowther sighed. He used his father’s cane to push himself to his feet, and turned to meet them.

Casper was sitting with the white lady on the slope above the Hall, sucking on his pipe and waiting for Agnes. The Luck was still in his
waistband, but he could see it also between the white lady’s hands. Only when she held it, it was lit with jewels again. The black witch was still in his mind, still hissing, but she was quiet for now.

The white lady shifted her long blond hair away from her face and pointed down the slope. Frowning, Casper turned to look. Far below them on the path to Silverside, he saw a movement of coloured skirts between the trees: a woman, with a boy and dog at her side leading a party of gentlefolk up the slope. He turned questioningly to the white lady, a broad smile already on his face. ‘Is it . . .?’ he asked. She nodded. Casper jumped to his feet and began to run down the hill like a boy, with Joe flapping behind him. ‘Jocasta!’ he yelled as he went, and he heard his bird echoing him, and the white lady laughing.

Although
Island of Bones
is fictional and the characters invented, I have of course drawn a great many things from history and adapted them to my needs.

Students of the 1715 and 1745 Rebellions, and those who know the history of the Jacobites in the area will realise I have borrowed heavily from the story of James Radclyffe, 3rd Earl of Derwentwater (1689–1716) and his brother Charles Radclyffe (1693–1746). To make clear what I have invented, or culled from elsewhere, I thought it best to give a quick summary of their biographies here. James Radclyffe’s residence was actually Dilston Hall in Northumberland. There is a plaque on the wall of the George, one of Keswick’s great pubs, saying that the Earl rode to join the 1715 Rebellion from there, though by most accounts he visited the area only once and that in 1710–11. In
The Last of the Derwentwaters
, J. Fisher Crosthwaite, appointed a Trustee of the Museum in 1875), reports that James was
formed by Nature to be generally beloved . . . the poor, the widow, the orphan rejoiced in his bounty
.

There is no real evidence that his wife, Lady Anna Maria, threw her fan at him and demanded his sword, but the story is well entrenched in local folklore.

The Earl was captured at Preston, and executed in 1716. He was stripped of his titles and honours, and his estates confiscated. Disputes over their ownership occupied the courts for many years afterwards. His brother escaped the axe in 1716, but was an active participant in the Jacobite court in Rome and was executed in 1746, having been captured
on his way to join the Young Pretender the previous year. James did have a son, John, but he died in 1731.

Lord Nithsdale, who was taken at the same time as James Radclyffe in 1716, did escape the Tower of London and execution due to the cunning of his wife, who disguised him in women’s clothing. They lived in Rome till his death in 1744.

The first museum in Keswick was opened around 1781–2 by Peter Crosthwaite, who appeared to be advertising it and his regattas on the lake in 1782, though other sources say the museum was not established until 1784. Crosthwaite was a great map-maker and noted self-publicist. His museum was a ‘cabinet of curiosities’, and some of his exhibits, including the musical stones he began to collect in 1785, are still on display in the current Keswick museum. Also there when I last visited was Napoleon’s tea-cup and an astonishing array of minerals, stuffed animals and various manuscripts of the Lake Poets. I wholeheartedly recommend a visit.

There are a number of ‘lucks’ in the area including the Luck of Eden Hall, the Luck of Muncaster and the Luck of Burrell Green. Some are the gifts of Kings and Queens, others came from hobgoblins and fairies. Apparently.

St Herbert’s Island was the home of the saint who died in AD687. It is also said to be the inspiration for Owl Island in Beatrix Potter’s
Squirrel Nutkin
. To the best of my knowledge it has never been referred to as the Island of Bones. There was a summerhouse apparently built by the Derwentwater family, but that was on Lord’s Island.

The strange weather of 1783 was caused by the eruption of the Laki fissure in Iceland, which had serious effects across Europe. Some of my descriptions of the weather are borrowed from Horace Walpole’s letters of that summer, as is Crowther’s theory that the haze was due to earthquakes in South Italy. The letter from Paris is genuine. There were serious hailstorms that summer, and a great deal of damage was reported in the newspapers from lightning.

For an account of folk-magic in the period, I recommend
Popular Magic: Cunning-folk in English History
by Owen Davies (2003).

For a history of Keswick, I recommend
Keswick, The Story of a Lake District Town
by George Bott (1994).

For an insight into the experience of voice hearers, I am very grateful to
Living with Voices: 50 Stories of Recovery
by Professor Marius Romme, Sandra Escher, et al. (2009), and the interviews available via the
Madness Radio
podcasts (
www.madnessradio.net
)

For an insight into the traditions of the area, please see
Life and Traditions in the Lake District
by William Rollinson (1974).

It is impossible to make use of all the legends, traditions, history and characters of the area in only one novel, but I’ve done my best. For my various errors and anachronisms, I can only apologise, particularly to the residents and historians of Keswick itself. Of course, this story is set before the Lakeland Poets changed how we see the area for ever, but the great lovers of Wordsworth might want to note that the house Mr White so admires in Cockermouth belonged to the poet’s father – and William would be one of the children he noticed there.