Sitting up in bed by candlelight with her warmest wrap about her shoulders, Mina rested her notebook on her lap and wrote. The old house was cooling and now and then there were little creaks and squeaks, or the sighing of the wind. Absorbed in her work she was not yet ready to sleep.
Her eyes became accustomed to the grey dark. She looked about the room at the simple but refined furnishings. Nothing moved, nothing appeared or disappeared. If there were monsters in the wardrobe they were monsters only from her own stories and therefore imaginary. Even if she were to hear footsteps in the corridor, they would be the steps of someone seeking the water closet in preference to the simpler amenities.
The sound that did alert her was none of those things, and nothing to which she could attribute a cause. A shushing, sweeping sound, like some heavy object being dragged along the corridor and then a noticeable thump on her bedroom door as if something had collided with it. Was someone moving furniture about in the middle of the night?
It took Mina a while to slip safely from the bed, wrap herself closely against the cold air, find her slippers and ease them onto her feet. She crept to the door and opened it. Outside the corridor was dark, the moon that might have lit it occluded by heavy cloud, and she saw nothing. Returning to her night table she took the candle and stepped out into the corridor. There was nothing to see and the noise had ceased.
She decided to inspect the storeroom next door but it was locked as usual. She pressed her ear to the door, but all was quiet within. After a few more moments she returned to her bedroom and write down all that she had just experienced.
In her warm bed once more she finally completed her notes, hoping that this would bring an end to the events of the day, then extinguished her candle and settled down to sleep, but sleep did not come easily. Even after committing her thoughts to paper they still troubled her. Moreover, the wind had risen once again and its squally protests threatened to keep her awake. She slipped out of bed once more, descending carefully in the darkness, and went to the window to ensure that the curtains were drawn as securely as possible when she saw, from between the velvet folds, a light moving up the terrace steps towards the house.
Mina watched the light for a time and, judging by the way it moved, it was clear that it was not some bright object borne by the wind, but was being carried by someone or something, though whether its bearer was human or animal, living or deceased, it was not possible for anyone to determine. Mina’s natural inclination tended towards the living but she felt sure that there were others who would think differently.
Her candle had been snuffed out, so the unknown presence could not see its glow in her window, but it had been lit only a short while before and she wondered if it was that which had drawn the visitor to the house. She remained still and watched carefully. The sky was like a flood of dark ink, almost impenetrable apart from the occasional brief suspicion of a full moon that seemed to glide into being and then quickly disappear. There were no lights from the church or the village. All was deadly quiet. If the presence had footsteps they were muffled by window glass, curtaining and distance.
As far as Mina was aware no visitors were expected and certainly none that would creep up to the door in the middle of the night. She felt curiosity rather than fear. The simplest explanation was that the arrival was simply a lost traveller, or someone in need of assistance, in which case she might expect to hear a knock at the door. She waited, but the light moved back and forth a number of times, as if searching for entry and there was no knock.
It then came to Mina that the shadowy figure could well be Mr Jordan’s detective, come to spy out the house in the hopes of surprising Nellie in some act of infidelity; a secret assignation on the terrace, a passionate embrace viewed through a window. It was all very distasteful and if Nellie chanced to leave her room there was the danger of an innocent chance encounter being subject to misinterpretation. The other and far more worrying theory was that a robber had come to examine the house to discover how easy it might be to enter and steal the valuables known to lie within.
Mina debated with herself as to her best course of action. She could not return to her bed, leaving the dangers unaddressed and her curiosity unsatisfied. The sensible thing to do was, of course, to fetch Dr Hamid or summon Mr Malling and ask for their assistance. No doubt the gentlemen would order her back to her room, telling her to lock her door and draw the curtains tightly. Only then would they go and assess the danger for themselves. If there was any excitement she would miss it all.
It was not an action of which great stories were made, she reflected. Would Sister Ireyna of the Convent of the Immaculate Heart have gone running for the assistance of an Archbishop in The Haunted Nun? Would Bessie the Pirate Queen have hidden in her cabin shaking with terror every time the monster of the deep left its evil smelling glutinous trail on deck as it searched for hidden gold? No, they would not.
What if the light proved, after all, to be no more than an artifice of nature, or some roaming animal, a large hound, perhaps, with a studded collar that gathered and reflected faint slivers of moonlight? How foolish she would look then! How like the heroine of Northanger Abbey, whose excitable imagination caused her to see Gothic terrors in the commonplace.
Mina made her decision. She put on her warmest wrap and slippers, lit her candle, placed it in the lantern and then slipped out into the corridor. The pierced metal of the holder, like an oriental dome, threw flowery shapes on the wall that spun around prettily as she walked. All was quiet. Mina crept along the corridor, even more slowly than was usual for her, hoping not to disturb anyone. The head of the stairs soon loomed in front of her and she began to descend, holding tightly onto the bannisters and reaching out carefully with each foot to judge the position of the steps.
The hall was peopled with unfamiliar shapes. Had she been susceptible she might have seen a ghost in every corner. She wondered if the presence outside had noticed her. She had no intention of opening the front door to look. Instead, she entered the parlour where the banked embers of the fire still warmed the air, put down the candle holder and approached the window. As she gently shifted the curtain aside so that she could peer out she was taken aback by seeing a large silhouette very close to the glass in the unmistakable shape of a man. Mina retreated, but knew that she had been seen. Now was the time to do the sensible thing, probably the thing she ought to have done before, and summon the servants. She was going to pull the bell cord when she heard a soft tapping on the window and a whisper.
‘Nellie? Is that you? Let me in, oh, please do!’
To Mina’s alarm she recognised the voice as that of her wayward younger brother Richard and realised that she would ten times rather he had been a burglar. Abandoning any intention of summoning another person she returned to the window.
The figure outside raised a candle to his face. He was wide-eyed and damp, his blond curls plastered to his forehead beneath the brim of his tweed travelling cap. Rather than have him make more noise she managed with a struggle to unfasten the window catches and open the lower pane the merest crack, just sufficient to enable them to converse.
‘Richard?’ she whispered.
He gave a little gasp. ‘Mina! Oh, do let me in, there’s a dear girl, it’s cold outside and it’s starting to rain again.’
‘Richard, I can’t.’
He shivered and gazed at her pleadingly in the way that always earned him a donation from his mother’s purse. ‘But I want to see Nellie! I miss her!’
‘How did you know she would be here? Have you been corresponding?’
‘Just little notes. I got a message saying that she would be coming here with you and I thought it would be such fun to see her without that awful husband of hers always snooping about. So I suggested to the Journal that they send me here to do some sketches. Not that there is anything here worth the paper, apart from this house and the windmills and the old church.’
Realisation dawned on Mina. ‘Was that you in the chur
ch earlier today?’
‘Yes, I heard Nellie’s voice and didn’t know who was with her, so I thought it best to climb up and hide in the pulpit. Did you get a fright?’
‘Not as much as the one I am having now. Richard — I am not letting you anywhere near Nellie. Have you seen the man who is staying at the farm? The one with the binocular glasses?’
‘Oh yes, the surveyor — Stevenson, I think his name is. Why? Is he after Nellie, too? I wouldn’t blame him, of course, but he might make himself a nuisance. Should I challenge him?’
‘You will do nothing of the sort. He’s not a surveyor, he’s a detective, almost certainly engaged by Mr Jordan to follow Nellie and keep watch for any suspicion of infidelity.’
‘Oh! I thought his face looked familiar — I have seen him about in Brighton. He’s a detective?’
‘Yes. If you enter this house at night and he gets to hear of it he will report to Mr Jordan that you had a secret tryst with his wife. And then she will be divorced, abandoned, penniless. I’m sure you don’t want that to happen.’
There was a brief silence outside then something that sounded like a sniffle. ‘But I miss her! I never met any girl I liked half as much.’
‘In that case you won’t do anything to destroy her reputation and her marriage. Just go. I can’t let you into any part of this premises.’
‘And I think I have a toothache coming!’ he wailed.
Mina hardened her heart. ‘I can’t help that. And it is all the more reason for you to go home. Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?’
‘Yes, a room at the Goat and Hammers. It’s not very nice.’
‘Then this is what you are going to do. You will return to your room for the rest of the night. Tomorrow, early, you will hire a cart to take you to Hassocks Gate and you will then take the first train back to London. If you don’t — Richard listen carefully to me — if you don’t, I will tell mother everything.’
He gasped. ‘Oh, Mina, darlingest, you wouldn’t do that!’
‘I would,’ said Mina. There was a short pause and Mina felt spots of rain on her fingertips as they rested on the window ledge.
‘Can I give you a note for Nellie?’
‘Sometimes, Richard, I think you are quite mad,’ hissed Mina. ‘At this moment I am sure of it. No! You must put nothing in writing. You will not come near this house again. You will not try to see Nellie. You will not write any notes. You will go.’
Richard gave a little groan of acceptance. ‘Then tell her from me — tell her I think of her every day. Tell her I wish — oh, I hardly know what I wish. If I was rich, it would all be so simple. Has Nellie told you that Mr Jordan is unkind to her? And she doesn’t deserve it, not a bit!’
Mina said nothing. The fears that had lurked in her mind for some while had just become all too real.
‘Very well,’ said Richard, miserably, ‘I have decided. I shall go back to London and write Mr Jordan an insulting letter. Then he will call me out and I will dispatch him.’
‘He might dispatch you, which would be a great grief to all of us, including Nellie. And supposing you did prevail? You would go to prison, or be hanged, and if the law thought Nellie encouraged you it would be the worse for her, too. Nellie has a past and that will weigh against her in people’s estimation. Even if she has not been indiscreet people will believe it of her.’
‘But I can’t agree never to see her again!’
‘You may have to, or else only see her when you are both in a large assembly of people. But please, Richard, for now, just go. And promise me you’ll do nothing to interfere with Mr Jordan.’
He uttered a ragged sigh. ‘Oh, very well. But I have one more sketch to complete for my mission or I may not be paid. I shall go up to the windmills at first light tomorrow morning and finish my work and then I will return to London. I don’t suppose you could write a little history of the windmills for me? The readers seem to expect it and you’re better with words than I am.’
‘Of course I will. Now, no more standing about in the cold and wet.’
‘You’re the best sister in the world!’ Richard blew her a fond kiss and then, to Mina’s great relief, he turned back and the little light moved away.
Mina refastened the window and crept back to her room, thankful that no one else in the house had been disturbed and that Little Scrap had yet to acquire any skills as a guard dog.
The restfulness of sleep still eluded her. There were times when it was hard to know if she was dreaming or awake. Her mind drifted through stories; those she had been told and new ones that insisted on composing themselves in her head and would not let her rest. There was a grieving white lady in the corridor, a strange child in the nursery, a mysterious maid who might be a murderess, a beautiful witch and a hound that glowed in the dark. She heard a child’s footsteps moving quickly, a squeal of laughter and the creak creak creak of a rocking horse…
Chapter Six
Kitty arrived late to the breakfast table, looking strained and pale. Despite the tempting array of hot dishes she was able only to sip milkless tea and take small bites of dry toast, which she chewed without any appearance of enjoyment. Mr Honeyacre tried to tempt her to an egg but she merely shook her head listlessly.
‘I am sorry to say that Kitty did not sleep at all well last night,’ said the anxious husband. ‘Myself, I always sleep very soundly, but Kitty was disturbed by some noises.’ He patted her hand. ‘Perhaps the wind and the rain are to blame.’
‘I am sure that is the answer,’ said Mina, thankful that hers was the only other bedroom that faced the terrace and therefore no one else had witnessed Richard’s unwise attempt to see Nellie.
‘I also thought I heard someone walking about,’ said Nellie, ‘but I was asleep again almost as soon as I heard it. I assume there were no late visitors?’
‘No, or the Mallings would have come to the door,’ said Mr Honeyacre. ‘The house, I wish to reassure everyone, is most securely locked at night. All the doors and windows are fastened. No one can enter from the outside.’ He frowned suddenly. ‘Maybe it was that surveyor creeping about outside like a spy. We must all look for footprints this morning and if we find them I will go down to the village myself and give him a piece of my mind.’
‘I do hope we have better weather today,’ said Dr Hamid. ‘I have been looking forward to a pleasant walk to view the country. And I prescribe one to Mrs Honeyacre, who needs to breathe good fresh air as much as possible!’
Kitty gave a little gulp and dropped her toast. ‘Please excuse me,’ she said pressing a napkin to her lips and hurriedly rose and left the table.
Mr Honeyacre turned to Mary Ann, who had just brought in a pot of coffee. ‘Mary Ann, do go and let Miss Pet know that Mrs Honeyacre is indisposed.’ He sighed. ‘She must have her rest, of course. My plan for today, if the weather holds, is for us to go up and inspect the windmills. There is a very fine view from the top of Clayton Hill and you can also see the north entrance to the railway tunnel, which is a particularly fine example of the modern Gothic style, although in a rather curious spot.’
‘I was wondering if you have any books in your library about the windmills?’ asked Mina, remembering her promise to Richard.
‘Not specifically, but there are histories and a guide book, and also a gazetteer of Sussex which will help you.’
‘Then I would very much like to read them.’ Mina declined the coffee. ‘In fact, I will go now and choose a book so I will be well read before our walk, the better to appreciate my surroundings. Mrs Jordan, would you care to accompany me and help me select a book?’
Both Nellie and Dr Hamid appeared surprised at this request, as Nellie was not famed for her reading of historical texts, but Nellie quickly understood that this was a subterfuge for a private conversation.
Once in the library Mina quickly told Nellie about her encounter with Richard the previous night. ‘At least he now knows that the man with the binocular glasses, who is going under the name of
Stevenson, is not who he pretends to be. But since Richard intends to complete his sketch of the windmills this morning before he goes I think it would be most unwise for you to join the party in case you encounter him and Mr Stevenson is following us and observes your meeting.’
‘I agree,’ said Nellie, ‘and I am sorry for it, but I must make every effort not to meet Richard again unless in a large company. If we should chance to meet on Clayton Hill Mr Stevenson will think it was by arrangement and Mr Jordan will be unforgiving on a mere unconfirmed suspicion.’ She looked profoundly regretful and Mina felt sure that, to Nellie, a meeting with Richard would have been far preferable to one with her own husband.
Nellie glanced out of the window. ‘Although, from the look of the sky, the expedition to see the windmills may not take place.’
Nellie was right. The weather was taking a turn from bad to worse. The cloud cover had darkened and a suspicion of rain was rapidly becoming a certainty.
Mina found a visitors’ guide to the county of Sussex that included a paragraph on the Clayton Hill windmills and borrowed it for further reading. ‘I doubt that Mrs Honeyacre would have been able to accompany us in any case. She did not appear at all well this morning.’
‘Yes, and I believe it may be more than lack of sleep that ails her,’ said Nellie, meaningfully.
‘What is it, do you think?’ asked Mina, pretending innocence of the subject.
‘I have my suspicions, as I am sure you do, that she may not be actually unwell, but expecting a happy event. However, even allowing for that, I have never in all the years I have known her seen her as out of sorts as she is at present. She is fearful, which she never was before, and a mere semblance of her former self. Her husband, having known her for only a short while, is not as aware of the great change, which he will put down to other causes. Myself, I am not so sure.’
They both returned to the dining room where the coffee was being replenished. Just as the new downpour appeared to be easing it mocked them by descending afresh like a thick grey curtain, billowing in the wind. Mina fervently hoped that Richard would be able to make his escape back to London.
The Ghost of Hollow House (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 4) Page 8
