Somebody Stop Ivy Pocket (21 page)

‘That girl was head over heels in love, she was. Even when they weren’t together she would write Sebastian long letters … I’ve never seen a girl so giddy with love.’

‘What I don’t understand is why it was such a great secret?’

‘Anastasia was the answer to a lot of silent prayers, it seems to me,’ said Mrs Dickens, getting to her feet with a groan, ‘for she seemed to drop clear from the heavens. Talking about her brings back the sorrow, I suppose. It would be fair to say she became a second daughter.’

My mind flew to Mother Snagsby with her cheek pressed to Gretel’s headstone. ‘I don’t suppose she has the heart for a third.’

The housekeeper hurried over and kissed my forehead. ‘Eat your supper, lass, and I’ll see about that pudding.’

‘I’m here to see Estelle.’

‘Is she expecting you?’

‘Not exactly – but we are always dropping in on each other unannounced.’

I had come about the letters the very next morning. After Mrs Dickens mentioned that Anastasia was always writing notes to Sebastian, I recalled Estelle making a similar comment. Which gave me a brilliant idea. Two, actually. The first was that if Sebastian loved Anastasia as much as I had been told, he was unlikely to discard her letters. Which meant they might be hidden somewhere ingenious in his private quarters. And as I was a gifted finder, I was certain to unearth them.

The second brilliant idea was this – those letters might very well spell out
where
the young lovebirds planned to begin their new life together. So while returning to Prospa and saving Rebecca was proving monstrously difficult, I could at least reunite Mother Snagsby with the girl who had mended (then broken) her heavy heart.

Now all I needed to do was get inside the grand house so I could begin my search.

‘Miss Dumbleby is not at home,’ said the butler firmly. ‘Good day, Miss.’

The door shut before I could protest.

Not willing to give up, I decided to try gaining entry through the kitchen, which was
sure
to be open. Unfortunately, a frightfully glum lump was sitting right in front of the door, shelling peas. It was Bertha. Estelle’s maid.

‘Do not mind me, dear,’ I said, trying to squeeze past her. ‘I just need to pop inside for an hour or two.’

Bertha recognised me from my last visit and brightened. ‘Are you here to see Miss Dumbleby? I can fetch her if you like.’

‘Isn’t she out?’

‘Um …’ Bertha looked confused for a moment (I sensed this happened quite often). ‘’Course she is – I’d forget me own head if it wasn’t stuck on.’

‘Just between you and me, I have secret business here.’ I lowered my voice for added effect. ‘I am on the brink of discovering the whereabouts of the sweethearts who first fell in love under this very roof.’

‘Master Sebastian and Miss Radcliff?’

I nodded. ‘Did you work here then?’

‘No, Miss, but my ma did.’

I decided to plead my case once more. ‘The house I live in has seen a great deal of sorrow and I know, I just
know
, that if I could discover where Anastasia and Sebastian have gone I could make some of what is wrong, right again. At least a little.’

Bertha put down her bowl of peas and stood up. But she did not turn and go into the house. Instead, she came down the stairs and said, ‘Follow me.’

She led me to the stables as if we were two thieves in the night.

‘They aren’t together,’ she whispered, pulling me into a feeding stall.

‘Who aren’t?’

‘Master Sebastian and Miss Radcliff,’ came the surprising reply.

‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t, not for sure, but my ma swore it was true.’

‘How did
she
know?’

‘It was nearly a year after Mr Dumbleby had vanished and Ma answered the door to a young woman who was searching for Anastasia. She asked to speak with Miss Estelle’s mother, Lady Vivian.’

Oh. Was
that
all? It must have been Mother Snagsby or Mrs Dickens. But wait – why would they still be looking for Anastasia one year after she vanished? After all, they knew she and Sebastian had run away together.

‘Did this woman get a meeting with Lady Vivian?’

‘She wouldn’t see her,’ said Bertha.

Now I was frowning. ‘But none of this proves anything about Sebastian and Anastasia. Why do you believe they are not together?’

‘Because the lady who came calling said that she had been on Anastasia’s trail for months and that the young woman had returned to London just a few days before.’ The maid bit on her
bottom lip. ‘There’s more besides – this woman believed that Anastasia had already called at the house to speak to Lady Vivian on a most important matter.’

I gasped and did not regret it for a moment. ‘And did she?’

Bertha shook her head. ‘My ma spoke to Lady Vivian and she said Anastasia hadn’t darkened her door since the day she was dismissed.’

‘Why,
why
would Anastasia come back to London alone?’ And if she did, I was certain she would seek refuge with the Snagsbys, not the Dumblebys. And why had Estelle never mentioned this strange visitor? Perhaps she did not know!

‘Ma never saw any sign of Anastasia, but her mind was made up – she believed every word that red-headed stranger said.’

It was those last few words that did it. Caused the tiny lumps to rise on my skin. The chill up my spine. ‘Did this stranger have a name?’ I said slowly.

‘Yes … no … oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue.’ The maid slapped her forehead. ‘I’m always getting muddled, I am. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t –’

‘Yes, dear, but luckily it
is
stuck on.’ I tried to sound calm and not the least bit agitated. ‘Are you sure you cannot remember her name? It might be rather important.’

Bertha blushed and looked down at her feet. ‘I’d have to check with Ma,’ she said bashfully. ‘She remembers everything
about her, from her freckles to her black dress. Ma said she was a pretty thing, but she dressed like an undertaker.’

I could stand it no longer. ‘Was her name Miss Frost?’

Bertha brightened like a burning building. ‘However did you know?’

‘
So when I pass, let my kin rejoice from floor to rafter;

And know that I have come home, to the sweet hereafter.’

‘Lovely, Ivy,’ said Ezra quietly. ‘Just lovely.
’

Victor Grimwig’s bedroom was small, but rather cheery. Soft afternoon sun drifted in through the picture window. A chest of drawers and a fine armchair sat along the back wall. A jug and basin on the side table. Victor lay in a single bed with the blankets pulled up to his chin, his three cats lying around him like cushions. He was putting on a marvellous show.

‘Mr Grimwig, may I ask what your malady is?’ said Mother Snagsby, drawing the curtains and bringing a cheerless gloom to the bedroom. ‘Your colour is remarkably healthy.’

‘He has an incurable head cold,’ I said quickly. ‘Isn’t that right, dear?’

Mr Grimwig coughed violently. ‘Oh yes, very true.’

‘Well done,’ I whispered. ‘If you could throw in the
occasional exhausted shudder I think that extra discount would be guaranteed.’

‘I’ve taken a sleeping tonic,’ he replied in hushed tones, ‘to make it more convincing and such.’

‘Forgive me, Mr Grimwig,’ said Mother Snagsby as she retrieved a sample board from her bag with a series of brass, gold and silver handles fixed to it, ‘has your doctor given you any idea how much time you have left with us?’

‘Not long at all,’ I said with suitable regret. ‘Mr Grimwig’s doctor believes he will snuff it within the week. Hopefully sooner.’

‘I see.’ Mother Snagsby handed the board to Ezra and then asked Mr Grimwig if he would mind if she heated some milk.

‘Don’t see why not, though I’m not thirsty myself.’

As Mother Snagsby walked briskly from the room, Ezra ran through a list of options regarding Mr Grimwig’s coffin. In response Mr Grimwig selected the very cheapest fittings money could buy.

‘Didn’t I tell you things would work out splendidly?’ I said, fluffing his pillows with great care.

‘Now, Ivy, you let Mr Grimwig rest,’ said Ezra, taking the tape measure from around his neck. He pointed to the chair against the wall. ‘Mother Snagsby and I will finish things.’

I looked back at the door to ensure the old goat had not yet returned.

‘Ezra, how well do you know Miss Frost?’

After my conversation with Bertha, I could not get the tomato-headed governess out of my mind. Some great mischief was afoot if Miss Frost was involved! But I had been denied any opportunity to confront the Snagsbys with what I had learned – the carriage was already waiting to take us to Mr Grimwig’s when I arrived back from Estelle’s house.

‘Miss Frost?’ The tape measure slackened in his hands. ‘Well, she is an acquaintance of sorts … we don’t know her well at all.’

‘I don’t think that’s true, dear.’

Ezra shuffled around the bed and led me away from Mr Grimwig. ‘What makes you say such a thing, Ivy?’

‘Because I’m practically certain you know her far better than you will admit. I found a brush in my room full of red hair and I recently learned that Miss Frost was looking for Anastasia Radcliff a full year after she vanished. And I’m awfully curious about why she would be interested in a girl who was a lodger at your house?’

Ezra looked at Mr Grimwig. Then at the doorway. Then back at me. ‘When we get home, come and see me in the workshop.’ He scratched his whiskers and for once I found the gentle wobble of his cheeks rather horrid. ‘We can talk then and I’ll try and explain a thing or two.’

The heavy footsteps of Mother Snagsby broke the spell. She bustled in, clutching a glass of milk, and directed me to sit in the chair and stay out of mischief.

‘Here,’ she said, holding out the milk.

I sighed. Why on earth did she insist that I drink that dreary milk? It was the same every time. Milk, then sleep. Milk does that to people, I supposed. But I did not wish to sleep. I needed my wits about me, as I planned to lift the veil that very night and bring Rebecca home. I would break the glass and jump out of my bedroom window if I had to. Whatever it took to save my friend.

‘I’m not thirsty.’

‘Of course you are,’ came the firm reply, ‘take it.’

Compounding my misery, the Clock Diamond simply refused to cooperate. What use was it to have a mystical stone around my neck if it wasn’t any help in thoroughly mystical matters?

I took the glass of milk. ‘Very well, though I don’t see
why
.’

Mother Snagsby watched me take two mouthfuls. Then, satisfied, she went back to Victor’s bedside to discuss the delicate issue of payment. I did not finish the rest. It was true that I wasn’t in the least thirsty. But something else – a grim tightening in my stomach – told me not to drink it. Which was silly. Still, with Mother Snagsby trying to wake Mr Grimwig (he had
nodded off ) and Ezra finishing up his measurements, I poured the remaining milk into Mr Grimwig’s left slipper.

It didn’t take long for the warmth to wash over me, but it was lighter than before. I willed my eyes to stay open. And they did … for a time. Then the room began to blur. The last thing I saw was Mother Snagsby walking towards me.