The Honours (35 page)

– screeched, its wingtips smouldering. The straggling vesperi dropped its javelin and fled.

Delphine and Mother picked their way down the corridor, heading west, towards the long library. Smoke was thick now, and they had to drop to a crouch. Delphine pulled her cardigan over her mouth.

‘Daddy!'

The corridor was a detritus of vesperi corpses, some battered or stabbed, several charred, still smoking, as if the creatures had dragged themselves from the fire before dying.

‘It's no good!' said Mother. Delphine ignored her and pressed on. The heat and the noise thickened and Delphine's crouch became a crawl. She was heading into the heart of the inferno. ‘He can't be here!'

‘He must be!'

‘Delphine!' Mother snatched at her wrist. ‘We have . . . ' Mother stopped to hack and splutter. ‘You must stop this!'

Delphine could not draw a breath to reply but her answer was clear. She was not going back. She knew Daddy was up ahead. She could still find him. She could still save him.

She glanced back and the smoke was too thick and Mother was gone.

Don't follow me
, she thought. Mother had spent her whole life sacrificing. It was time to let someone else take their turn.

Delphine crawled into a black and endless tunnel. Her bare skin brushed metal, blistering.

‘Daddy!' She could not get low enough beneath the smoke. Her burns stung fiercely. ‘
Daddy!
'

She thought she heard something off to her left, muffled.

‘Daddy?'

‘Go away!'

‘
Daddy!
'

The door was ajar. Delphine levered it open with her crab hook and found herself back –

– in the brawny clutches of Mrs Leddington. Delphine knew better than to struggle.

Eleanor Wethercroft sat on the floor, panting. Clotting blood banded her arms. She turned Nana Florence's crucifix over and over in her palm.

‘She ambushed me, miss,' said Eleanor. ‘I heard the alarm and I ran down to see if I could save anybody and – '

‘Shut up, Eleanor,' said Mrs Leddington.

‘But – '

‘The building is
on fire
. Stand.'

Eleanor hung her head. She made a show of wincing as she got to her feet. Mrs Leddington grabbed Eleanor by the wrist. She began dragging the girls towards the exit.

Eleanor Wethercroft whimpered and gasped. At last, she said: ‘But she tied me up in the boiler room, miss.'

‘And you wriggled out like Houdini.'

‘The knots came loose. She's a rotten knot-tier, miss.'

Delphine resisted the urge to swing for her.

‘Is she?' said Mrs Leddington. ‘I thought you ran down because of the alarm.'

‘No. Well . . . I only said that because I didn't want to get her expelled. She tied me up.'

Delphine kept her eyes on the floor. ‘It's true. I did.'

‘Oh, don't insult my intelligence,' said Mrs Leddington. ‘You're a pernicious little bully, Miss Wethercroft. You think you're above justice. Well, justice today.'

Eleanor Wethercroft muttered: ‘My father shall hear of this. At least he's not a – '

Delphine was on her before she could say the word again. Mrs Leddington was caught off-guard and the girls tumbled to –

– the floor on her hands and knees. She had reached her bedroom. The collapsed wardrobe was burning. Smoke frothed low.

Daddy lay against the wall beneath the window, his face filthy. His shirt was open. He was clutching a ball of paper.

Delphine dragged herself towards him. Her lungs felt as if they had been creosoted. She hacked and spat.

‘Daddy.'

He did not answer. A familiar dullness coated his eyes.

‘Daddy, we have to go.'

He groaned. His mouth hung open.

‘Daddy. It's Delphine.'

‘Delphy?' He blinked once, twice. ‘Where are you?'

‘The house is on fire,' she said. She took his hand. ‘Follow me.'

Daddy snatched his hand away. ‘Can't.'

‘We'll crawl,' said Delphine. She coughed in her palm. ‘I'll help you.'

Daddy shut his eyes. ‘I'm not leaving without Arthur.'

‘Come on!' She yanked his collar. ‘We have to go. There isn't any time.'

‘Arthur!' Tears had washed away the soot either side of his nose, leaving canals of clear wet skin. ‘Dear God, man, where are you? Arthur!'

‘Daddy, please. You're not well.' She grabbed the front of his shirt and a button tore off. The heat in the room was tremendous. ‘Arthur died years ago.'

Daddy tipped his head back against the wall, rolling it from side to side. He coughed and spluttered.

‘No, no, no. You don't understand. You don't understand at all.'

‘Don't argue. Just come.'

‘Arthur! I'm in here!'

‘Please, Daddy. I can't carry you any more. I'm not strong enough.'

Daddy shut his eyes. He had blood on his teeth. How would Mother handle this?

‘Gideon.' Delphine fought down the tremor in her voice. ‘Now, listen here. Don't be obstinate. Everyone's waiting for you, you silly man. If you want to die, you can die tomorrow.'

Daddy's eyes remained closed. He frowned.

‘Arthur?'

Delphine fanned smoke away from her mouth.

‘Yes,' she said. ‘It's me. Now, come on.'

‘Oh, Arty!' Daddy gazed into the descending smoke. ‘Oh God, I . . . ' He clutched his throat, made a retching noise. ‘I knew you'd come. It's been black without you. I . . . ' coughing, ‘ . . . I couldn't see a damn thing.'

‘You must follow me.'

‘Sit a moment.' He patted the floor beside him. ‘Abide.'

‘There isn't time! We have to – '

‘I kept it from all of them, old man.' Daddy grinned tightly. ‘I think . . . I think Anne knew, perhaps. Perhaps she guessed.'

Sweat fell from Delphine's chin onto the hot floor. ‘Guessed what?'

‘Ah!' He held up a forefinger. ‘Ah ha ha! Nope, you won't . . . you won't trick me that easily. We made a pact, and I never . . . argh, Christ.' He spat something black. ‘Look, they've . . . I took a knock in that last barrage. My leg's done in.'

‘Then crawl! Come on!' Delphine grabbed his arm and pulled.

‘I want you to take a message to my daughter.'

Delphine let go. ‘What's the message?'

Daddy's breath heaved in and out.

‘Tell her . . . ' He broke off to cough. ‘I read her note.' He relaxed his fingers and the crumpled paper spread its petals. She
could see the ‘F' of ‘FATHER', scrunched back on itself so it looked like an ‘M'. ‘Tell her . . . to listen to her mother.'

‘Are you quite finished?'

‘Utterly.'

She wiped sweat from her eyes. ‘You have to follow me.'

‘You go, dear. I'll rest here a while.'

In the midst of the flames, cold panic swamped her chest. He wasn't going to listen to her. She slapped him in the stomach.

‘No! Come now,' she said. He did not move. ‘Venner! I am giving you an order!'

Daddy massaged his brow with his fingertips. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. His fingers left smutty trails.

‘All right, sir.' He blew out slowly. ‘All right.'

Delphine cradled his head. He let her help him onto his hands and knees. The air was so hot she had to breathe through clenched teeth and still it scalded her tongue. She pushed her face to the rug, where the smoke was thinner.

‘Follow me!' she shouted. She began crawling towards the door. The glass in the window burst. She felt a sudden scorching breeze, flames sucking at the new fuel source. It hurt to keep her eyes open. She pressed on blind, feeling ahead with the crab hook. ‘This way!' Daddy did not reply. ‘Gideon? Are you there? Daddy?' She inhaled a great lungful of smoke and started spluttering. She tried to draw in fresh air but she could not stop coughing. She kept crawling. She could not feel her hands. Her scalp was burning.

She opened her eyes and saw only smoke. She could not see the door. She could not breathe.

‘Daddy!'

What if she was going the wrong way? What if she had lost him?

Her legs felt so heavy. She swished the crab hook back and forth, hoping to catch a wall. The heat was all round her now. She was so tired.

She thought she might go to sleep for a while, till all the fuss was over.

* * *

Strong arms gripped her waist and she was rising. Pain – a sharp blow to the ribs – heat and sweat and fingers digging into her guts.

The temperature rose till it was unbearable, till she must be on fire. Maybe this was dying.

She blacked out.

*
‘I'll let you look at Nana Florence's cross' was a common bargaining ploy of Eleanor's. Its counterpart – ‘I swear on Nana Florence's cross' – was used as collateral when auditioning for custody of prized confidences. Eleanor had never explained why Nana Florence's cross was due the sort of veneration usually reserved for the remains of an apostle – as far as she was concerned, its status as a storied relic was self-evident.

CHAPTER 39

ARISE

D
elphine felt drizzle against her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, she was looking up at Professor Carmichael.

The lawn was wet and cool and lit by the blazing Hall. The Professor knelt at her side, in the lee of the ha-ha. His jumper had a fist-sized hole scorched in the shoulder. The skin beneath was covered in greasy blisters like the white of a fried egg.

‘You're alive,' he croaked.

Delphine tried to speak but her tongue was burnt. She coughed and it was a kick in the chest.

‘Steady,' said the Professor, wincing with the effort. He looked back towards the house. ‘They're coming.'

Delphine sat up slowly, the Professor supporting her. Across the grass, limping in silhouette, came Mother, supporting a ragged and delirious Daddy. Flamelight turned their outlines golden.

Rain fell in wafting layers. A few yards away, Mrs Hagstrom sat with Alice's head in her lap, running fingers through her hair and murmuring to her. Alice's chest rose and fell fitfully. Mrs Hagstrom's shoulder had been clumsily bandaged with a stocking. Droplets ran down her hollow cheeks. Somewhere she had lost a shoe. The male guest whose name Delphine still did not know sat quietly beside her, hugging his jacket to his shoulders.

Delphine leant an arm against the wet stone of the ha-ha and
stood. There was something hard in the sleeve of her cardigan. She shook it out and the crab hook dropped into her palm. The metal was hot to the touch.

She looked back at the Hall – fire was raging in the west wing. Blue smoke haemorrhaged through a collapsed section of roof, underlit, looming. Great orange flakes rose into the rain and withered. The long library was gone.

Mother's dress hung in charred streamers round her waist. She had draped a throw rug over her shoulders. Vapour spilled from Daddy's lips. He was shivering. As they moved into the lee of the ha-ha, Mother waited to see if he could support himself. She stepped away.

‘Do up your shirt, dear.'

Daddy started fastening the bottom button. His fingers were clumsy and slow. Professor Carmichael watched him warily.

‘Mrs Hagstrom needs a doctor,' said the Professor. He glanced at the bloody slit in Daddy's trousers. ‘We all do.'

‘His Lordship's car was out the front of the house,' said Mrs Hagstrom. ‘Reggie . . . uh, that is . . . it was due a wash. If it's still there . . . I think I can manage the drive.'

‘Right,' said the Professor. ‘I'll head to Pigg and telephone for the police. They've a phone in the Brown Bull. Delphine, you go with Muriel. Get the car.'

The Professor stood.

Delphine hacked up a brown gobbet of phlegm.

‘I've got to help Mr Garforth.'

‘Mr Garforth?' said Mother.

‘Henry.' Everyone looked at Delphine blankly. ‘The head keeper. I'm afraid something's happened to him.'

‘Delphine, this isn't the time.'

‘If it wasn't for him we'd all be dead!' Delphine's chest cramped and she paused to cough. ‘He made sure no more monsters can cross the channel.'

Professor Carmichael raised a blackened eyebrow. ‘You mean . . . they're French?'

‘No. I don't . . . Never mind. Mr Garforth knows about it but he might need our help.'

‘Right. Fine.' The Professor slapped a huge palm against his chest. ‘I'll go and look for him. You stay with your mother.'

‘You don't know your way through the woods. I'm going with you.'

‘You are not, Delphine.' Mother grasped Delphine by the scruff of her cardigan. ‘You need to see a doctor.' On top of the Hall, more tiles caved in with an almighty woof of sparks. Mother did not flinch. ‘I have given you tremendous latitude this evening and you have almost died and I won't stand for it any more because I love you.'

‘Listen to your mother,' said Daddy. ‘Ow!'

He slapped his neck.

Daddy examined his hand. Something like a smear of boot polish gleamed in the fluctuating light of the fire. Delphine stepped closer.

‘Giddy?' said Mother.

Daddy held out his palm. Across his fingers were the turquoise-magenta wings and smashed carapace of a hornet.

‘I think I've been stung.'

At the far end of the west wing, the music room window blew out. Mr Cox, immaculate in riding coat and blue breeches, stepped out of the window. Behind him was Stokeham. Cox dropped down onto the gravel. He turned, reaching up to accept the leather gauntlet of his superior.

‘Get down,' hissed the Professor. Everybody dropped behind the ha-ha.

Delphine and the Professor peered over the lip of the stone wall, back towards the house.

Rain dripped from Stokeham's bone-white beakmask. Cox raked his fingers through his shining chestnut hair. From the shattered window clambered Reggie. Delphine could not make out his eyes. Sluggishly, he reached through the frame, reached into thickening smoke, and lifted out Miss DeGroot.

‘What on earth's he doing?' muttered the Professor.

Miss DeGroot staggered as her feet touched the gravel. Her arm was wrapped in a singed curtain. It dragged as she took a few uncertain steps forward.

Cox unhooked a flintlock pistol from his belt. He said something to Miss DeGroot. She did not appear to answer. Stokeham gazed across the estate. Cox began walking towards the ha-ha.

‘What do we do now?' said Mrs Hagstrom.

Professor Carmichael ducked back behind the ha-ha.

‘We can't stay here,' he whispered.

‘Alice can't move,' said Mrs Hagstrom. Alice whimpered and Mrs Hagstrom stroked her brow, shushing her.

‘Giddy?' said Mother. She nudged Daddy, who was lying on his back. ‘Come on, now.' She looked up. ‘He's passed out.'

‘We have to go
now
,' said the Professor.

Delphine glanced over the lip of the wall and saw Cox walking a few yards ahead of Stokeham, one palm sheltering his pistol from the rain. Miss DeGroot and Reggie were following, her club arm flattening the wet grass. Miss DeGroot's eyes were half-lidded. Cox was scanning the darkness. Unless he changed direction, he would be upon them in less than a minute.

Delphine turned to Mother.

‘Keep everyone safe,' she said.

‘What? Delphine, no!'

Delphine ran east in a low crouch along the ha-ha. She waited until she was a clear thirty yards from Mother, Daddy and the others, then broke cover. Slippery grass squeaked beneath her soles. She glanced back at Cox.

He had not spotted her. He was continuing towards the group's hiding place. He seemed totally unaware. By blind luck he was about to stumble on everyone. Delphine almost called out, but that would make it too obvious a diversion. He had to believe she did not want to be seen.

She began backing away. Cox was not even looking in her direction.

A familiar ticking came from overhead. Delphine glanced up to see a vesperi swooping towards her, the drizzle bouncing off the outline of its wings. It called out to its masters. Stokeham whirled round.

Cox's eyes widened.

‘There!'

Delphine turned and ran.

A crack rang out. A breeze whipped past her ear. She felt a paralysing dread. She sucked the feelings down and focused on the woods. She just had to draw them away from Mother and Daddy and Alice and the Professor and Mrs Hagstrom. Her legs felt like bags of wet sand. Perhaps she should stop, turn and face them. She could spread her arms, close her eyes and wait for it all to be over.

But what about Mr Garforth? He might need her. She couldn't give up, not till she'd found him.

The ground sloped down towards dark, close-packed trees. Any other night, the woods would have looked foreboding, but now the liquid black promised acres of precious cover.

‘Deeeeellphine!' Cox's hallooing voice bounced off the trees. ‘Come back! We only want to talk to you!'

Fear spurred Delphine on. She was drawing them away from Mother and Daddy and the Professor, and that was all that mattered. If she could just make them chase her into the woods, everyone else would be safe.

Stokeham was alive. A homemade grenade to the stomach and somehow Stokeham was alive.

Another crack – a branch on the tree ahead shattered with a crazy ricocheting sound.

‘We don't want to hurt you!'

She was into the woods. Roots tore at her ankles and she fell and scrambled and she was into the bushes and away, dirt stinging her cuts and burns, soaked, breathless.