Authors: Emma Carroll
Just when I was hoping to find the gates to Eden Court open, they were shut. A good shake didn’t shift them. The bolt was pulled across with a chain wrapped twice around it. What Mercy said about this place was true: it really wasn’t welcoming.
Racking my brains for another way in, I walked a little to the right of the gate. There were no hedges to squeeze through, no fences to climb, just a flint wall that seemed to run on forever.
I tried hollering instead. ‘Anyone there? I’ve got a message for Mr Walton.’
The trees groaned and whispered in the wind. It was cold too – a shivery cold that sank into your bones. I hugged myself, but it did little to warm me. The sooner I delivered this note and went home again, the better.
In the end, I waited an hour or more just for someone to appear. I wasn’t expecting that person to be Isaac
Blake. I recognised his voice straight away: ‘Same time tomorrow, Jeffers?’
‘Aye, same time, same amount of pig,’ said this Jeffers person. I knew his voice too: he’d been with Mr Walton the night my geese were taken, and was the footman Da had mentioned.
Though I was still sore with Isaac for the stone-throwing business, at this moment I needed his help. Or at the very least for him not to pick on me again. So once I heard the gates rattle open, I went over. I was too late. There was a clunk as the bolt slid shut again, then fading footsteps as Jeffers disappeared down the drive.
‘Well, well,’ said Isaac, spotting me. ‘If it ain’t Lizzie Appleby. What you doing round these parts?’
I bristled slightly at the friendliness of his tone. ‘You’d better not start chucking things at me today.’
‘I didn’t mean it badly,’ he said. ‘Honest, I didn’t.’
‘Joking again, were you?’ I said, thinking back to the blindfold game.
‘No, I was warning you, or trying to. You want to be careful who you’re talking to, Lizzie. That Mr Walton ain’t what he seems.’
‘Hmmm.’ Peg had said as much, hadn’t she? But even if Isaac
was
warning us I still didn’t understand why
he’d had to throw stones. I did know what he meant about Mr Walton, however.
‘Well, anyway, I need to deliver a note for Mr Walton,’ I said, checking for the square of paper in my pocket.
‘Jeffers’ll take it for you. Hullo! Jeffers!’ As he called to the footman, I covered my ears so as not to be deafened.
‘If he could just let me in the gate …’
‘Ho! Jeffers! Ho! Where’s the chap got to?’
‘Da says Jeffers is mighty busy.’
‘He is – like a mad man.’ Then Isaac dropped his voice. ‘Since they’ve taken over the house there’s been some funny goings-on. They’ve put this pole on the rooftop. It sticks up so tall it’ll get lightning-struck if they’re not careful.’
‘Oh, really?’ I said, trying to sound normal, when the mention of lightning made my guts churn. ‘Mercy said it looked like a flagpole without the flag.’
‘She’s right, it does.’ He gave a little sigh. ‘I wish she’d talk to me again, Lizzie. I really do care for her still, you know.’
I hadn’t come here to listen to Isaac’s lovesick mooning. ‘Well, that’s between you two, not me,’ I said, briskly. ‘What are you doing here, anyway? I thought Mr Walton wasn’t to be trusted.’
‘Ah, but this is different. It’s business.’
‘More pig carcasses?’
‘How d’you know about that?’
‘We saw you delivering one the other day – well, Mercy did. So Mr Walton’s been ordering a lot of bacon, has he?’
‘Not bacon, Lizzie – he wants the meat raw. I’ve brought another whole pig’s carcass today. Can you believe it – he wants the same every day.’
I was very certain that the meat wasn’t for Mr Walton. It was being fed to that thing that killed my geese, that hid in our hedge and then ran all the way to the village and down Mill Lane smelling like wet leaves. I felt sure of it. So sure it made the hairs on my neck tingle.
‘Mind you, Mr Walton’s got guests staying, which might explain why he wants so much meat.’ Isaac paused. ‘But I’ve been thinking about that missing poultry. And that poor horse what got bitten on the rump. I don’t know if it’s all connected … You’ve gone awful pale, Lizzie. You all right?’
I didn’t get a chance to answer. The thud of footsteps told me Jeffers had reappeared at the gate. ‘You forgotten something, Master Blake?’
‘Lizzie here’s got a message for Mr Walton.’ Isaac
nudged me. I stumbled forward but kept my hand in my pocket.
‘I promised I’d take it to Mr Walton directly,’ I said.
Jeffers gave a superior sort of laugh. ‘I don’t think so, missy. He’s entertaining guests from London. He won’t want to be bothered by the likes of you.’
It was tempting just to give Jeffers the note. Then I could avoid Mr Walton altogether and go straight home and shut the door. But what if Da was right and the footman forgot to hand it over? He’d insisted I deliver it myself, and I’d said I would.
‘It’s urgent. It’s about the workbench my da’s making for him. It’s very important that I take it straight to Mr Walton without delay.’
Jeffers seemed to consider it. ‘I can’t deliver it right this instant. I’m busy doing—’
‘Exactly,’ I said, seizing my chance. ‘So let me in and I’ll do it.’
Jeffers continued contemplating.
‘Please, Mr Jeffers,’ I said, when I couldn’t bear it any more. ‘I’ll be proper quick.’
‘I’ll go with her,’ said Isaac. ‘Just to make sure she don’t lose her way.’
I glared in his direction. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Jeffers, though, thought this was a good idea. And I confess a little part of me did too.
‘Five minutes, then you’re out,’ he said.
The chains came off and the gates groaned open. When they clanked shut behind us, it made me flinch. I didn’t dare think what was shut in here with us.
Jeffers took us to the front of the house. He began deliberating again, this time about which door we should call at.
‘It’s not right for you to knock at the front door, but the kitchens are—’
A shout from behind cut him short: ‘Oi! Jeffers! You coming to help me clean these boots or taking the day off?’
‘Five minutes, that’s all,’ Jeffers said, and left us.
I breathed deeply to steady myself.
‘Right,’ I said to Isaac. ‘Let’s get this done.’
Taking my arm, he guided me to the front door. He wasn’t as gentle as Mercy, and he went a bit fast up the steps. But he placed my hand on the doorknocker rather than taking over and doing it himself, which was the sort of help I liked.
I rapped three times. Then we waited for what felt like eternity. In a house this vast, it might be ten minutes of brisk walking along passageways and down
stairs to reach the door. Or perhaps they simply hadn’t heard.
Just as I went to lift the knocker again, rapid footsteps approached from the other side of the door. I expected it to fly open. Instead came the sound of bolts being drawn back: I counted five at least. Then a key clicked in its lock, turned, clicked again. At last, the door opened just a crack – I could tell by the little creaking noise it made.
‘Yes? What’re you wanting?’ said a woman’s voice, a maid, I supposed. It wasn’t the person who’d been with Mr Walton on Mill Lane.
I straightened my shoulders. ‘I’ve got a message for Mr Walton. It’s from my da, who’s making a workbench for him.’
‘I’ll see he gets it,’ the maid said.
There was a pause. Isaac nudged me so I guessed the maid was waiting for me to hand it over.
‘I’m to deliver it myself,’ I said.
The door creaked again as she opened it a little wider.
‘Are you now? Fancy that.’ I imagined her eyeing me up and down.
‘Lizzie, just give it to her. Jeffers’ll be back any minute,’ Isaac said.
I didn’t budge.
‘Could you take me to Mr Walton, please?’ I asked.
‘I ain’t got time to take you anywhere,’ she said, ‘not with a house full of flipping guests.’
Isaac must’ve done something clownish for she suddenly laughed. ‘All right. Very funny. You’ll find Mr Walton down by the stables – he likes to make sure the animals are fed proper.’
‘
Animals?
’ Instantly my brain filled with creatures capable of killing ducks and hens.
‘I meant
horses
,’ the maid said, like I was stupid.
She shut the door with a slam.
‘Why d’you have to say that?’ Isaac hissed, as we headed towards the stables. ‘You’ve made us look suspicious.’
‘Think about it,’ I hissed back. ‘All that raw meat you’re bringing here, all those missing birds. She said
animals
, not horses.
That’s
suspicious.’
‘True, it might be.’
‘You said yourself something queer’s going on here, and I’ll tell you this, Isaac, my sister’s been catching the blame.’
I told him then about Peg running away to Bristol.
‘She’s heartbroken,’ I said, a lump in my throat. ‘She swears she didn’t take anything apart from a kitten.
My da’s gone off looking for her, which is why he can’t work for Mr Walton today and I’m here delivering this pesky note.’
‘Poor Peg. That ain’t right,’ Isaac muttered. ‘That ain’t right at all.’
He sounded like he meant it, too.
As we walked on, the gravel became beaten earth beneath our feet. Leaves brushed against me. The light flickered and grew darker. We were, I guessed, on a narrow path that wound between trees. Perhaps it was the same path Mercy mentioned the other day – where that man carrying a pig carcass had gone, and I’d thought might lead to a storehouse.
‘Where are these stables, then?’ I asked Isaac, as we walked on.
‘They’re down here somewhere. Keep going.’
But I was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. ‘I thought you knew where they were.’
‘I ain’t been down this path before. I deliver my pigs directly to Jeffers.’
‘So we’re lost, then?’
‘Not lost, just …’
A noise up ahead stopped us dead.
‘What was
that
?’ I whispered.
It sounded like a person crying. A child.
The noise came again. It seemed more animal now, perhaps an owl or a fox. Only it wasn’t that, either. Then it came again, long and low, and it made me think of pain or fear or deep, dark despair.
‘We ought to go,’ said Isaac.
‘Shhh! Listen.’ But though the sound had stopped, there was no mistaking the smell that wafted our way. It made my heart beat fast.
‘I’m going to find out what’s making that noise,’ I said.
‘Wait, Lizzie,’ Isaac said, holding onto my arm. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’
The cry came again. This time it made me think of dogs howling. Perhaps it
was
a dog. There’d been a dead dog up here in a glass case, hadn’t there? And there was another one Mr Walton kept near the stables. Yet dogs didn’t smell like the woods.
As we listened, the animal howled on and on.
‘It sounds dangerous, Lizzie,’ Isaac warned.
‘Sounds sad to me.’
‘Well, we should keep back just in case.’
I rolled my eyes. For all his swagger, Isaac was turning out to be a bit of a fusspot.
‘I don’t see what it’s got to do with us, anyway. The animal down there is in a pen,’ he said. ‘It’s not
roaming Sweepfield, helping itself to other people’s livestock.’
I clenched my fists. Either Isaac was a complete halfwit or he really didn’t know.
‘And that creature you speak of,’ I said, ‘has been escaping.’
There wasn’t time to explain. Someone was thundering down the path towards us. Isaac gave me a shove.
‘Quick! Get in there!’
Before I could object, I staggered sideways. Straw rustled against my feet. The sweet smell, the sudden darkness told me I was in some sort of barn.
‘What are we doing?’ I said. ‘What about finding Mr Walton?’
‘Wait there a minute and keep quiet,’ Isaac whispered.
‘But what …?’
A shadow flitted through the lighted doorway: Isaac had gone. And he’d left me here alone, which certainly
wasn’t
the type of help I needed. Arms folded, toe tapping, I waited. Waited some more.
I supposed he was outside somewhere, talking his way out of trouble. Yet time passed and Isaac didn’t come back. As I listened out for him, all I heard was a
thump-thump-thumping
coming from nearby. I didn’t pay much attention at first: I was busy wondering when to give up waiting and try finding Mr Walton by myself.
The thumping continued. It was coming from underneath me, I realised. I wasn’t just hearing it now but
feeling
it through the soles of my feet. I supposed it was rats or someone moving boxes in a cellar. Stepping aside, I tried to ignore it. But it kept on.
Thump-thump-thump.
Intrigued, I cleared the straw with my foot. The noise grew louder. I thought I heard a voice calling faintly too, and knelt down to listen. The floor was brick, and set in it, just where I’d been stood, was a square hatch about half the size of a door. The thumping sound had come from here.
It wasn’t loud or strong. It was, I realised, the sort of noise a small fist would make if it were knocking to get out.
‘Who’s there?’ I said, leaning in close to the hatch.
A small whimper came in reply.
I knew that sound. That voice.
But it couldn’t be.
Sitting back on my heels, I shook my head to clear it. This didn’t make sense. Peg had gone to Bristol. She’d
been seen getting on a coach. Da had gone after her. ‘Peg?’
There was another
thump-thump-thump.
My heart began to race. I crouched again over the door, pressing my ear to it. ‘Peg? Are you there? Answer me!’
I heard a snuffling, snotty sound like a person with a cold. With growing certainty, I felt sure it
was
my sister.
I tried to stay calm. ‘Peg? Now listen to me. I’m going to get you out of there, all right?’
I searched the trapdoor for a handle; there wasn’t one, but there was a catch. With a click and a snap, it sprang back. Yet there was nothing to pull on to open the door. All I could do was slide my fingers underneath the edges and try to prise it open. But the gap was too small. The wood pinched my fingertips. Splinters dug under my nails. There had to be another way.
‘Peg? The door might open from your side. So I want you to push upwards, as hard as you can,’ I said. ‘On the count of three. One … two … three—’
Even then, I wasn’t ready. With a great
whoosh,
the door flipped open. Dust flew into my face, and with it a waft of dank air. And then some grabbing, scratching, squealing thing snatched my skirt hem and pulled so
hard I toppled forward. For a split second, I wondered if it
was
Peg after all.
A frightened voice cried, ‘Lizzie!’ and I knew then it was her. But we were locked into a ridiculous knot of skirts and arms, and I couldn’t get free. Peg wouldn’t stop wriggling, either.
‘Let go of me so I can get hold of you properly,’ I cried.
‘Oh, Lizzie, it really is you! You’ve come for me!’
‘I have. But I need you to be still for a moment.’
Peg did as I asked. But the sudden force of it made me pitch forward again. There was nothing underneath me now. Arms flailing, I fell down. And down. A rushing sound filled my head. My stomach flew upwards.
I landed on something soft and springy. Above me, the hatch slammed shut, and a pair of sticky arms flung themselves around my neck.
‘I’ve been shut down here and it’s awful! Please, take me home.’
‘Let me breathe!’ I gasped, as Peg sobbed into my hair.
Somehow, I got us both into a sitting position. My insides still felt like they were floating, but I wasn’t injured. I’d landed on what seemed to be a bed.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
Feeling Peg’s head nod against my neck, I sighed in relief.
‘Good girl.’ I hugged her. ‘Let’s get out of here, shall we?’
The only light was a faint glow that seemed to come from a rush lamp. The room felt chill and smelled strongly of damp. Easing Peg off me, I stood unsteadily on the bed. The ceiling was low; I felt along it until I found the hatch again. If Peg had pushed it open by herself, then it’d be even easier with two of us.
‘Stand next to me,’ I instructed Peg. ‘Now, one, two, three … push!’
The hatch wouldn’t budge. We tried again, heaving and huffing till my arm muscles burned. But it stuck fast. Then I remembered the catch – that stupid, click-and-snap catch. Once the trapdoor slammed shut, the catch would’ve closed. And the only way of opening it would be on the other side.
The first waves of panic hit me.
We were locked in.
‘Hullo? Isaac? Can you hear me?’ I yelled, praying he’d finally come back and was up there wondering where I’d gone.
If anything the silence grew thicker and I sensed we were deep underground. I really didn’t like being
trapped down here. For Peg’s sake, though, I did my best to appear calm.
‘As soon as Isaac comes back, he’ll let us out, I promise,’ I said, though I was beginning to have my doubts.
‘Isaac? What’s he doing here with you? I thought you didn’t like him.’
Sitting back on the bed, I patted a place next to me.
‘One thing at a time. I want to hear why
you’re
here first,’ I said, wiping her teary face with my skirt hem.
‘They put me in this room and locked the door,’ she said.
‘They?’
‘That man – Mr Walton.’
I stared in Peg’s direction, appalled. ‘He did
what
?
Why?
You were seen getting on the Bristol coach. And you took your things, Peg. You were running away, and now Da’s gone looking for you. How the heck did you end up here?’
‘Mr Walton said I had to stay out of the way, otherwise it would ruin the surprise for the guests.’
‘Whoa, slow down a bit.’ I wondered how much of Peg’s story could be true. It already sounded very jumbled up. ‘How did you get here in the first place?
Were
you on that Bristol coach at all?’
‘For a mile or two, yes. I sat next to a lady who was coming to stay at Eden Court. She was with her husband and stepsister and she asked where I was going. And I told her that I was running away.’
‘So why did you get off again?’
‘I got scared, Lizzie. It was awful squashed on the coach and when I thought of how crowded Bristol would be, I felt sick. I wished you were with me but you weren’t, though the lady was nice and kind and …’ She took a deep breath. ‘Then the coach stopped at Eden Court and Mr Walton was waiting at the gates for the lady and her friends. He saw me and said I’d better come with him too.’
So this lady, it seemed, was one of Mr Walton’s guests who Jeffers and the maid were running themselves ragged trying to serve. It didn’t explain why Peg was in this cellar, though.
‘Why did Mr Walton want you here?’
‘He said he needed me to help him with summat. It sounded better than going to Bristol, at least for now.’
I frowned. ‘And you
went
with him? The man’s a stranger, Peg.’
‘Da said he was a genius,’ Peg retorted.
I sighed. She was right: Da had said that. And look where it had got us.
‘But why the cellar?’ I still didn’t understand this part.
‘Mr Walton said he had to hide me away. He didn’t want the guests to see any more of me, otherwise I’d completely ruin the treat he had in store for them. He called me the lightning girl, Lizzie. What d’you think he meant?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t know.’
Yet hearing her say those words turned me icy cold. Mr Walton had used that very phrase before on the night my geese went missing. And the woman with him had said Peg taking the blame was ‘a considerable inconvenience’. I didn’t understand what it meant – what any of it meant. But it was clear they wanted Peg for a special reason, and that reason was to do with lightning.
I knew I’d been right not to trust Mr Walton. He wasn’t a genius, despite what Da said. He was a sinister man who cared for nothing but science. And here we now were, trapped at Eden Court with him and some strange, howling creature.
Unable to sit still any longer, I swung my legs off the bed and stood up. It was no good waiting for Isaac to rescue us when it was obvious he wasn’t returning. My sense was he’d got scared and done a flit to the village.
Or he’d just forgotten me. Either way, it was down to us: we’d have to rescue ourselves.
‘Right, Peg, where’s the main door?’
We reached it in four short steps. It was locked.
‘We really are stuck, aren’t we?’ said Peg, a wobble in her voice.
‘Let me think a minute. I’ll come up with something, I promise.’ Yet all I could picture were tombs and graveyards: if no one ever came for us, we’d be as good as buried alive.
In my agitation I paced up and down, trailing my hands along the wall. The stone was rough. Crumbly with damp. But just by the bed was an odd, smooth spot. When I knocked against it, the sound was hollow.
‘Shh!’ I said to Peg, though she wasn’t making any noise. ‘Listen to this.’
I knocked again.
‘Is it a cupboard?’ asked Peg. ‘Because I can’t see a handle.’
I couldn’t feel one, either. But on pressing against it, I heard the click of a catch.
‘It’s another little door!’ cried Peg. She knelt down beside me, holding the rushlight before her. ‘It don’t look like a cupboard inside, either, because there’s no back to it.’
‘Is it a tunnel?’
‘I think so,’ said Peg.
‘Thank goodness!’ I gasped.
Then the doubts came back.
‘Did Mr Walton mention it?’ I asked, wondering if it was a trap he’d set and he’d be waiting for us at the other end.
‘No, though he did say this was the best place to hide me. Said I’d never escape, so there was no point trying.’
Another of Mr Walton’s slip-ups, then: he was starting to chalk them up. But if this was our only chance to get out, we had to take it.