Wild Robert (5 page)

Robert lowered his hand and watched the pink and the green and the brown figures march out of sight beyond the bushes. “There,” he said. “They will chase them to the edge of my estate. And woe betide the child they catch.”

Heather had often wished something like this would happen to all the children who dropped wrappers at Castlemaine. Yet she could not help saying, “Don’t let any of them get caught – please!”

Robert laughed. “What a tender heart you have!” he said. “Very well. They shall be pursued but never
quite caught, to show them that I will not suffer rubbish to be thrown upon my gardens. Castlemaine is not a fairground or a market-place. It is my home.”

Heather saw he still did not understand. She explained again, as well as she could, how the last of the Franceys had left Castlemaine, in a very ruined state, to the British Trust in his will. And how the Trust had repaired it all and put it on show, with Heather’s dad to look after it.

Robert turned and led the way into the rest of the gardens. “Yes, I follow that your father is by way of being seneschal or steward to my family,” he said, “but I think he must find another way to fill his purse. It is not seemly to have all this prying into our grounds and our rooms.”

“It’s not Dad’s purse, it’s for the
upkeep
!” Heather said, quite exasperated by now. She had the feeling she was explaining things to a very small child, who was being deliberately stupid. “Don’t you understand that Castlemaine needs
thousands
of pounds every year for repairs, and stopping the roof leaking and so on? I’ve heard Mum and Dad doing the accounts. They get the money from the people who come to see the house. They
need
them.”

Robert snapped his fingers crossly. “No longer,” he said. “Take me to your father and I will tell him to find money another way.”

“What? You mean from your treasure?” Heather asked.

Robert gave her another sideways look. “You harp on that,” he said. “No, I must speak with your father. Meanwhile all these folk must go away home.”

“But—” Heather began, and stopped with a gulp, because she saw the line of the world waving up and down in front of her eyes. The path under her feet seemed to slant first one way and then another, even though she knew it was not moving, and she saw the flowers and hedges rippling. It made her wish she had not eaten quite so many strawberries.

When things straightened out, Heather saw that all the people round her were quietly heading towards the car park. A mother and father went by with four small children. The father was saying, “I think we’ve seen all there is to see here.”

“We’ve been here too long,” the mother agreed. “The kids aren’t the only ones who are bored stiff.”

Though this was exactly what Heather had been wishing for, only this morning, she found she was horrified. Robert had spoilt a day out for hundreds of people. And if he went on sending people away, day after day, Castlemaine would have no money at all. Maybe Mum and Dad would lose their jobs. She looked round for Robert to explain to him, but he was nowhere near. His oddly bright figure was a long way ahead, striding through the steady stream of people all making for the car park. He was nearly at the house.

Heather raced after him, dodging past people and bumping into others. By the time she reached the steps to the main door, Robert was most of the way up them. “Wait!” she panted.

But he did not wait. He went straight indoors and straight past the desk where Mr Mimms sat taking tickets. Mr Mimms said, “May I see your ticket for the tour of the house, sir?” And when Robert went straight past without taking any notice, Mr Mimms sighed and began levering himself up.

“He’s with me, Mr Mimms,” Heather panted as she shot past. Mr Mimms had only one leg. Heather liked Mr Mimms. She did not want him turned into another dog. Besides, she had once seen a dog with three legs and felt desperately sorry for it. She was glad when Mr Mimms believed her and sat down again.

Ahead of her there was a big party of people gathering in the hall for the next tour of the house. Robert had not sent them home, but he had somehow dodged through them. Heather could see his clear, bright shape climbing the main stairs. “Excuse me,” Heather said, pushing among the waiting people. “Excuse me.” And when some of the people took no notice, she put on a whining voice and lied shamelessly. “I’ve
got
to find my Mum! She’s up those stairs.”

They let her through and she dashed up the stairs, thinking it would just serve her right if she did run into Mum. Mum was probably the last person she wanted to meet – apart from Dad, that was – at least until she had thought of some way to stop Robert working magic all over the place. And
even then there was the problem of what he was going to do for the rest of his life, she realised. She clattered up the stairs trying to think of jobs for magicians. All she could think of was a magic show on television. And wouldn’t Robert hate that?

She caught up with Robert outside the bedroom Queen Elizabeth I slept in. He was peering inside wonderingly. “What is the reason for the red rope across the doorway?” he asked her. “Is there danger beyond?”

“No, it’s because Queen Elizabeth I slept there,” Heather said. “The room’s full of treasures. Now
look—
!”

“But she never used
this
room!” Robert said. “They told me how a place was made for her downstairs. She was old then, and stairs troubled her.” And when Heather opened her mouth again to scold him, he gave her another of his odd sideways looks and said, “What strange things are called treasures! I see no treasure here but the coverlet my grandmother stitched for my brother’s wedding.”

“Well that’s a treasure because she stitched it so beautifully!” Heather snapped. “Now
listen
to me! You had no business sending those people home. They’d all paid to
be
here!”

Robert shrugged. “This is a matter I shall discuss with your father,” he said. “Where is he?”

Heather knew she needed a lot more time to think before she let Robert anywhere near Dad.
She thought of herself saying to Dad, “This is Wild Robert. I just happened to call him up out of his mound.” And she knew just the kind, unbelieving look Dad would give her, and how he would try to hide a smile. Then she thought of Robert getting angry and turning Dad into a dog. She even knew the lean, brown, trusting sort of dog that Dad would turn into. No – she would have to do a lot of thinking before she let them get together.

“Last time I saw my father,” she said truthfully, “he was by the stairs to William Toller’s tower.”

Robert’s face brightened. “The old watch-tower! How do we go there these days?”

“Through the Long Gallery,” said Heather, and took him that way.

Robert was delighted with the Long Gallery. “This is almost as I remember!” he said, looking through one of the line of leaded windows. “And the view of the garden is not so strange, either! I can almost begin to think myself at home. Except—” He waved towards the rows of pictures in their fat gilt frames. “Except for these strangers. Who are they all?”

Heather seized on the chance to side-track him. She took Robert along the pictures and told him about all the ones she could remember the names of. “This is Lady Mary Francey,” she said. “I know her because she’s so pretty. And the bishop is Henry Toller. And here’s James Toller in the curly wig. This
one with the gun is Edward Toller-Francey – I think he was killed in a war.”

As she went, she kept noticing a very mixed expression on Robert’s face. Heather thought she understood. Some of it was pride, some of it was the lost look she had noticed when Robert first saw the house. She thought she would feel very odd, too, looking at all the people who came after her in her own family. None of them looked much like Robert. Some of them had dark eyes and light hair, but none of them had the brown, slanted features of Robert’s face.

“There isn’t a picture of you, is there?” she said, as they came round under the picture of Sir Francis bowing to Queen Elizabeth I.

The mixed feelings on Robert’s face gave way to a bright smile Heather somehow did not believe in. She knew he was hurt again. “There would be none,”
he said. “I had my portrait done, but I daresay it was burnt when I – when I was put down. My brother married a lady strongly puritan, who detested my magic arts.” His bright smile stretched even brighter. “She was a Francey, as it happens.” As if he was glad to change the subject, he swung round and pointed to the smaller gallery. “And here is another room of pictures that is new to me.”

“That’s the Feud Room,” Heather said. She was glad to change the subject, too. “It’s the pictures of all the Franceys and Tollers who had the quarrel two hundred years ago.”

Robert hugged himself with both arms and burst out laughing. He laughed with his head thrown back until the Long Gallery rang with it. “Oh, this is great! I put a curse on them, that Franceys should hate Tollers, in revenge on my brother’s wife. And it took! It took! What did they quarrel about?”

“Hush,” said Heather. “I’ve no idea. I just know there were duels and lawsuits and things for a hundred years.”

Robert turned to her with that look a person has when they are going to be thoroughly naughty. “Shall we find out?” He spread his hand out.

Heather surprised herself by saying “
No
!” as sternly as Mum did sometimes.

But it was too late.