Strange Star (14 page)

As we trudged through the mud towards Dipcott, Mr Godwin talked amiably enough – of London and his shop that sold books. And though I half listened, I kept thinking of our Peg and why it was his daughter had taken her. In the end I had to ask.

‘I’ve no idea,’ he said. ‘It’s most baffling. Though my daughter is rather prone to impulsive actions – her dear departed mother was too. Poor Mary, she lost her own child, a baby girl, not so long ago. It did affect her deeply. But really, taking another child is no sort of solution. How awful this must be for your family.’

His answer did little to ease my fears.

The one person I thought might help us was Isaac Blake. Living as he did outside of the village, he hadn’t heard about the fire at Eden Court or the commotion surrounding it. It also meant he was pretty hard to wake up.

‘Are you certain this is the right window?’ Mr Godwin asked, when he’d thrown countless stones at the glass.

‘I have it on good authority from Mercy Matthews that it is.’

But just to be certain I asked him to throw one last stone proper hard. Within seconds, the window swung open.

‘What the flying blazes is going on?’ Isaac cried. Then, sounding more confused, ‘Lizzie. What the … I mean … crikey … you’re here!’

‘It is me, yes. Now I need …’

But Isaac kept talking. ‘What happened to you this morning? I tried to come back for you but Jeffers carted me off the premises. And when I got back to the village I went straight to tell Mercy but she wouldn’t listen.’

So my hunch was right: he
had
tried to raise the alarm.

‘Look, Isaac, we need your help. Desperately, as it happens.’

‘We?’

Stepping forward from the shadows, Mr Godwin introduced himself and explained about his daughter.

‘And there’s been a fire at Eden Court,’ I added. ‘The place is in ruins.’

Typically, Isaac’s first thought was of pigs. ‘So even if they hadn’t thrown me out and told me never to come back, they’d still not be wanting half a porker tomorrow?’

‘I reckon not.’ If the wolf survived the fire, he doubtless wouldn’t escape Mr Cox’s gun. I was dying to tell Isaac all I’d discovered, but it’d have to wait. ‘So can you help us? We need to reach the coast by morning.’

Isaac didn’t miss a beat.

‘At your service,’ he said.

He was quick about it too, harnessing his carthorse and backing him into the shafts of a cart, all within a matter of minutes. Once we’d climbed on board, Isaac shook the reins. The cart groaned, the wheels spun, then with a massive lurch we were off.

The first few miles were slow going. Cartwheels and hooves sprayed mud in all directions. And the slithering, swaying motion made me feel awful queasy, or maybe it was still the effects of the fire. Yet once we reached the main road, I sat up eager in my seat, for I knew this road well. It was the old ridgeway that ran right along the tops of the hills. The road was straight and mostly smooth, dry chalk; either side of it the moors fell away. On a clear night up here the stars shone bright as lamps. Mam said it was a special,
ancient place. I could almost feel it, tingling against my skin.

For many more miles, we sat squashed up together on the little hard bench seat. The ground grew steadily more rutted and rock-strewn, so eventually the smooth ridgeway was but a distant dream. Every jolt, every jar of the road went through my backside, all the way up to my teeth. My head throbbed. My shoulders ached. I began to dream of walking those last few miles, anything to stop the feeling that my bones were like dice in a cup.

Quite suddenly, the road dipped down sharply. The horse panicked, its back hooves slipping beneath it. Isaac talked gently until it shook its head, ready to move on. We passed under the darkness of trees, then came out in a bumpy lane. By now the smell had changed from mud to salt, and the birdsong on the breeze was that of gulls. I hugged my knees to my chest in an effort to stay warm. Mr Godwin, I noticed, had gone very quiet.

The road took us to a tollgate, then the mud became cobbles as we entered the town. The sun was up and bright, and the streets sounded unnaturally busy.

‘Hurry!’ I cried. ‘Oh, do hurry!’

We sped along at a ragged trot. I could only imagine
how mud-splattered and windswept we looked, but all that mattered was reaching the boat. We had no time to lose.

‘Is it in dock? Can you see anything?’ I asked, rising up in my seat.

‘Only your knees. Sit down!’ Isaac said.

As we took a left turn, the road got even busier. Everyone seemed to be travelling in the opposite direction to us.

‘This don’t look good,’ Isaac said.

‘Keep going, young man,’ Mr Godwin replied. ‘We won’t know if it’s sailed until we get there.’

I sat on my hands to stop them fidgeting. The boat couldn’t have gone yet, it was only just daybreak. But a horrible dragging feeling began pulling at my insides. A right turn and the smell of fishing nets grew stronger, until finally Isaac heaved on the reins. The cart slowed, then stopped.

‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘This is as close as I can get to the harbour side.’

All around us drivers shouted and clicked tongues at their horses. Carriages turned and moved on. There were people on foot. Crowds of them. Laughing, talking, selling things fresh from the sea, all in accents thicker than ours at home.

‘You’d best climb down. The proper harbour is just around the corner. You can’t see nothing from here,’ Isaac said, sensing my hesitation. ‘I’ll find a place to park up and wait for you.’

I nodded. Then I patted Isaac’s arm.

‘You’re a good sort, Isaac Blake,’ I heard myself saying. ‘I might’ve been wrong about you and Mercy. Go and have another word with her when you get back.’

He gave an embarrassed cough. ‘Oh. Right. Well.’ I pictured his ears going red.

The cart creaked as Mr Godwin stepped down. I followed, landing heavily on the cobbles so my feet stung. He took my elbow and together we made our way through the crowds to the water’s edge. Every now and then, he stopped people to ask if they’d seen Miss Godwin.

‘We’re looking for a young woman, eighteen years of age. Small in stature, long, reddish-gold hair. She’s with another young woman of similar age, and a tall, rather thin man.’

‘And a girl in a green frock,’ I added. ‘With curly white-blonde hair.’

No one had seen them.

When we reached the harbour side, it sounded quiet. Too quiet.

‘Can you see a sailing ship? Is it here? Can we reach it?’ I said in a rush.

Mr Godwin didn’t speak for a very long moment.

‘There is a sailing ship, yes.’ His voice cracked with feeling. ‘By my reckoning it’s about half a mile off shore.’

My heart sank to the cobbles. We were too late. Our ship had sailed.

‘There we are, then. We did try.’ Mr Godwin sniffed and blew his nose. ‘Maybe they’ll return some day.’

‘But sir, they’ve gone to Switzerland, not the moon,’ I said.

‘My dear, I am too old to go chasing across Europe. So indeed, it might as well be the moon to me. Good day to you.’ Then he went off in search of a coach to take him back to London.

I stared after him in amazement. Was that it, then? Was he giving up? I only hoped our da had more staying power: I knew I did.

For once, though, I didn’t think of what Mam would’ve done. I didn’t listen for her voice inside my head. This time, I trusted my own judgement. I’d get Peg even if it did mean going to France, then Switzerland and on to the Villa Diodati.

There was bound to be another boat tomorrow.

Lizzie spoke until morning. Then, as light seeped in under the shutters, her head finally slumped forwards. Felix grew alarmed:
she wasn’t … was she?
The rise and fall of her chest told him no, she wasn’t dead. She’d simply fallen asleep.

Relieved, he got to his feet, stretching his legs, which had grown stiff from too much sitting in expensive chairs.

‘I must go to bed,’ said Mary, rubbing her eyes. ‘Fetch me when she wakes, will you?’

‘I expect she’ll come to you first,’ Felix replied. ‘She’s very set on getting her sister back.’

Mary frowned. ‘So you believe her? You think the child we brought with us from Eden Court
is
her sister?’

Looking down at the sleeping girl, Felix knew now who she reminded him of. Her hair was dark blonde, not white. Straight, not curled. Yet she resembled that
face he’d seen yesterday at the Shelleys’ window. She must truly love her little sister to come all this way from England, blind
and
on her own.

‘Lizzie’s ever so brave,’ Felix said.

Mary stood up and smoothed her dress. ‘She tells a good story, I’ll grant her that.’

Felix stared at Mary.

‘She hasn’t come just to tell a story,’ he said. ‘What she’s told us seems to be the truth.’

‘Oh,’ Mary faltered. ‘Oh I see … dear me … So you
do
believe what she said?’

‘I think so, yes. It’s your friend you should be more concerned about. This Miss Stine isn’t all she seems.’

Mary sank heavily into her chair again. She looked pale and suddenly lost.

‘You’re right,’ she said, head in her hands. ‘Though it pains me to admit it, Lizzie’s account of what happened at Eden Court is a fair one. We were part of something awful that night; we encouraged it.’

When Mary glanced up, her face was full of despair. ‘Oh, Felix. I believe I’ve made the most terrible mistake.’

In less than an hour, Lizzie awoke.

‘My sister! Is she here? Is she safe?’ She tried to get up, only to fall back onto the chaise longue.

‘Hush, you’re still weak,’ Mary said. ‘In a few days, when you’re stronger, we’ll take you to her.’

But Felix didn’t think it should wait. And he was getting rather used to speaking his mind.

‘Mary, your house is but a short walk away,’ he said. ‘It’s best for everyone if we do it today.’

Now it was Mary who looked scared – and terribly tired. He felt it too – that grittiness in his eyes and the throb in his head. In the end, it was agreed they’d have breakfast first.

When they came to leave, they found the front door was bolted.

‘Who is this person following you, Lizzie?’ Felix asked, recalling why he’d locked the door last night.

‘Not following
me
, exactly. She caught the same boat across the Channel but she probably had a smart cabin whereas I slept in the hold. I didn’t even know she was on board till we docked in France.’

Felix caught Mary’s eye. The look they shared said ‘Miss Stine’.

‘So you think she’s coming here?’ he asked, nervous.

‘I know it. I heard her on the quayside, bartering for
a ride to Switzerland. I’d recognise that voice anywhere, honest I would.’

‘Did she mention Diodati?’ Mary asked.

‘She mentioned
you
, miss. It seems she’s carrying some sort of heavy luggage, something she wants you to see. But none of the carters would take it. They sounded scared, to be honest, and made excuses about their carts being too small, their horses too old. I reckon she’ll have had more trouble persuading people to take her – but I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I had to reach Peg before she got here. I don’t trust her, miss. Not an inch.’

‘We’d better hurry, then,’ Felix said. ‘Mary’s villa isn’t far.’

Outside, the storm was over, leaving the sky a pale, washed-out blue. The ground was soaked, the trees and bushes heavy with rainwater. By the time they’d gone through the apple orchard to the Shelleys’ villa, Felix’s stockinged legs were drenched.

As was usual at this time of day, the windows were still shuttered, even the little one where yesterday Felix had seen the child’s face. Mary guided them inside through the front door.

‘It’ll be best not to wake Percy or Claire,’ she said. ‘We don’t want a scene.’

They tiptoed through the silent house and up uneven stairs that made Lizzie stumble. Felix, gripping her arm as best he could, noticed how she trembled. Inside the attic bedroom, it was just light enough for him to see a narrow bed and a shape lying still beneath the covers.

‘Clara, dear,’ Mary said gently, going to the bed and sitting on its edge. ‘There’s someone here to see you.’

The sleeping person didn’t move.

‘
Clara?
’ Lizzie frowned.

Felix took a sharp breath: Clara was the name of Mary’s baby who’d died. At last, he began to understand why she might’ve done this, why she’d taken another child and tried to make it her own. She couldn’t save her own daughter, yet she could perhaps offer Lizzie’s troubled little sister a better life. It still seemed a strange, misguided thing to do, but perhaps it had been done in good heart.

Breaking free of Felix, Lizzie rushed towards Mary’s voice. ‘Peg! Oh, Peg!’

The shape under the covers sat up so fast it made Felix jump.

‘Lizzie? Is that you? Is Da here?’

A girl emerged from under the covers. It was hard to see her properly, for though by now Mary had opened
the shutters, the bed was a tangle of arms and hair and weeping.

‘Thank goodness I found you,’ Lizzie sobbed. ‘We’ll send word to Da that you’re safe. He’ll be so, so relieved. Oh, Peg.’

Watching silently, Felix felt his throat grow thick. He hoped Mary was watching too, for, hard though this was for her, there was no doubting that these two girls were sisters. Eventually, they moved apart – Lizzie, her eyes red from crying, and Peg, whose face stretched into a grin as she noticed Felix.

‘I saw you yesterday when I looked out of my window, didn’t I? Who are you?’ she asked.

‘He’s …’

‘That’s …’

‘I’m Felix,’ he said, cutting across Mary and Lizzie. He stepped forward, hand outstretched. ‘Very pleased to meet you, Peg.’

She couldn’t take her eyes off his face. He guessed she’d never met a boy with dark skin before. Grinning still, she shook his hand so hard their arms swung, and it made them both laugh.

Mary stood a little apart from them at the window. It was the old Mary again: composed, still, quiet. But underneath it, Felix was sure her heart was breaking.
He knew a little of how that felt, hoping for a future with someone only to lose them.

Letting go of Peg, he joined her in looking up at the sky.

‘The comet’s still up there,’ he observed. Today it looked even smaller and fainter.

‘And the cause of much bad fortune, so people say,’ Lizzie said from where she sat on the bed.

Felix narrowed his eyes at the sky. His mother came to mind. Back when their boat set sail for Europe she’d stood on deck and said even the stars were in their favour.

‘Look!’ she cried, pointing up at the night sky. ‘Look!’ Yet he’d seen nothing but darkness.

Today the sky was bright. The sun was coming up over the mountains; it promised to be a better day. And not just for Lizzie, who had found her sister, but for him too. These past few hours he’d done well to keep his head. Mary had listened to him, relied on him. He’d proved himself to be more than just a houseboy. If he could go to London with Lord Byron, then perhaps he wouldn’t be stared at for the colour of his skin. People would value him for who he really was and life might be very good indeed.

Mary, meanwhile, remained solemn.

‘A comet won’t decide your fortune, Lizzie,’ she said.
‘How can it? It’s just rock and ice, so the scientists say.’

Lizzie looked suddenly thoughtful. ‘Before she died, my mam laughed about comets bringing bad luck. Then all these dreadful things happened to us and I felt sure the comet was to blame. But I think maybe my mam was right after all.’

‘It looks like a star,’ Felix said.

‘A star with a tail,’ Peg added, joining them at the window.

Mary smiled weakly. ‘It’s not a star, either. Though better a star than all that mumbo-jumbo superstition people seem to believe.’

‘Maybe,’ Lizzie said, ‘it’s a strange sort of star. Not a normal-looking one but still something beautiful.’

Felix nodded. In a room of rather unusual people who, each in their own way, had beauty, he rather liked the sound of that.

‘It won’t dictate your future, however,’ Mary said. ‘That’s something only you can do.’

She was right, Felix thought to himself. The future was his to choose. He didn’t have to be a boy branded with the letter S. He was free – and capable. It was as if he’d got permission to be his very best self, instead of someone who simply met the needs of others.

From outside came the sound of an approaching
horse. On the road that wound its way around the lake, a cart emerged from behind the trees. It pulled up outside Diodati. Down from it jumped a woman in a cloak, who set off through the orchard towards the Shelleys’ house.

Towards them.

‘Go!’ Mary cried, herding them out of the bedchamber. ‘It’s better that Miss Stine doesn’t see you.’

Lizzie nodded, a look of absolute fear in her face.

‘Don’t panic. You’re safe,’ Felix reassured her. ‘She can’t hurt you any more.’

Yet having heard Lizzie’s tale, he knew what this Miss Stine was capable of – experimenting on people and animals, stealing children away in the night. He didn’t exactly want to meet her, either. Better that Mary dealt with it now.

They made it as far as the top of the staircase before Miss Stine started hammering on the front door. Within moments, the entire household was awake.

‘What’s happening? Is there an emergency?’ Mr Shelley cried, appearing in his nightshirt.

Miss Clairmont rushed after him. ‘Is it Byron? Has he come calling for me?’

Pushing past Felix, Mary hurried down the stairs. ‘Percy, Claire, go back to bed. I’ll handle this.’

They went, grumbling sleepily. Mary beckoned Felix. ‘If you’re quick you can sneak out of the—’

The banging at the door became frantic.

‘Mary? I must speak to you!’ Miss Stine’s cries could clearly be heard. ‘Everything’s gone wrong!’

Frustrated, Mary threw up her hands, before disappearing down the hallway to answer the door.

Felix glanced at Lizzie.

‘You ready?’ he whispered.

She nodded. Peg looked bewildered, and suddenly very young.

‘Keep hold of your big sister’s hand,’ he said to her.

They inched down the stairs. One particular step creaked like an old ship. Felix held his breath as they passed it.

‘Which way now?’ he asked, once they reached the bottom.

‘There’s a back door,’ Peg said.

‘Come on, then,’ said Lizzie.

Peg didn’t move. ‘We can’t. It’s by the kitchens, which are …’

‘… down the hall, past the front door,’ said Felix, realising their problem.

‘Oh.’ Lizzie’s hand tightened around Peg’s. ‘Then what do we do? We can’t just stand here. If Miss Stine
sees Peg she might try to take her back again. She might even …’

‘Hush!’ Felix hissed. ‘Don’t fret. We’ll have to find somewhere to hide.’

He looked around him. The hallway was long and narrow with lots of doors leading off he didn’t know where. There was no obvious hiding place. From down the hall came the click-clack of footsteps. There were voices too, quick and urgent.

‘Oh heck!’ Peg cried. ‘They’re coming!’