She wasn’t looking for much of a response from Will, and he allowed her to talk on, imagining she was doing her best not to think about what had happened to her down here. Perhaps she was also trying not to think about what they were doing here now.
When Will turned into the long tunnel where he’d laid the boy to rest, he saw his efforts with fresh eyes. He’d done his best under the circumstances, but any dignity he thought he’d given the boy in death melted away when he saw the ramshackle wooden coffin. Only the crucifix that lay on top of it hinted at the respect he’d hoped to show.
Eloise stopped a little way short.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
She nodded and stepped closer. Will took the crucifix and placed it carefully on the floor. He pulled open the lid of the crate that covered the boy’s head and chest, and slowly pulled the shroud free without yet exposing the face. He lifted it enough to see the features himself – they had sunken a little, but he’d been right about the air down here, the dryness and the cold having left the boy almost as he’d been just after death.
Will looked up at Eloise and she said, “I’m ready.”
He pulled the shroud back and she took a step closer then stopped abruptly, confused for a moment, then nodded as she stepped backwards, bumping into the wall behind her and reaching a hand out to steady herself.
Will wrapped the shroud round the boy again, then replaced the lid and the crucifix. Once he’d done that, he stood and said, “Is it him?”
“It’s him.” She looked at Will and said, “What are we going to do? They’re looking for him.”
“We’re not going to do anything. His body will remain at peace here.”
“But his family – they’ll want to know what happened to him.”
“True.” Will thought about it and said, “There’s a fast-running brook not far from here. I could place the body in the water, together with a knife, an apparent suicide. The water would explain why there was no blood. I’m not certain how much more comforting that would be to his family than simply not knowing his fate.”
Eloise looked aghast as she said, “You’re serious? You think that’s a solution, dumping his body in a stream, making his family think he killed himself?”
“No, there is no solution. I can’t bring him back to life. I’ve done the best I can for him in death.” He looked again at the coffin, meagre, but more than he’d done for his other victims. “I have to ask again, would you have been so concerned about his family’s pain if it had not been Alex Shawcross in that box?”
“Of course I would! It’s just that I knew him.”
“Did you like him?”
“He was OK – I mean, I didn’t know him that well, but he was OK. He didn’t deserve this.”
“Nobody does,” said Will. “But what intrigues me is what he was doing here, breaking into this house.”
“I don’t know, Will, doing something stupid. People do stupid things sometimes, like breaking into places for the hell of it, like running away from school to live rough in the city.”
She gave him an exasperated look and turned and walked away. He followed her, making sure she didn’t take a wrong turn, but in her irritation and upset she somehow managed to remember the route without even thinking about it.
And as he walked, Will thought over the night before, finding the boy he now knew to be Alex Shawcross, the way he’d laughed and talked to himself, the way he’d gone to the specific trouble of messing the place up. It came to him at once.
Alex Shawcross had been there on Wyndham’s business, staging a break-in to ensure that the house would have been searched from top to bottom, making it just a little bit harder for Will to stay there. The only question was why Wyndham would have sent him late in the afternoon when it was dark, knowing the danger for the boy, unless word had got to Wyndham that Will wouldn’t be returning until late in the evening. That was something only Chris or Rachel could have told him.
There could be another reason, and Will had to accept that it might have been just as Eloise had said, that this otherwise exemplary boy had decided to break into a country house in a reckless moment. But Will thought back again to him tipping over that table of books and was certain he was right.
He waited till they reached the library again and said, “Eloise, is it possible the boy was here on Wyndham’s business?”
“Alex,” said Eloise. “The boy had a name and it was Alex, and why would Wyndham want him to break into a house?”
“Because he knows I’m staying here, because a burglary would have resulted in police searching the house, just one more thing to make it difficult for me to remain here.”
“But if Wyndham knows you live here, why would he send Alex – and I know you see Wyndham’s spies everywhere, but I really doubt Alex Shawcross would have been one of them – but why would he send Alex here after dark, knowing what could happen to him?”
“Perhaps he’d heard that I wasn’t going to be back until late last night.”
“I’m the only person who knew that, and …” She rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, here we go again, Chris and Rachel! Even now, after everything they’ve done for us, you still can’t get it out of your head …”
“Only a few days ago it was you who didn’t trust Chris.”
“You’re twisting what I said. And they’ve been so kind. Why would they do that if they were working for him?”
Will could see the conversation was going nowhere, and perhaps they didn’t even need to know now why Alex Shawcross had been here. If he had been working for Wyndham, the plan had been thwarted. They’d be better served preparing for Wyndham’s next assault, not dissecting the last.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now.”
Eloise was apparently determined to quarrel and threw her arms in the air. “Of course it matters. Alex is dead. And you think the two people who’ve helped us the most are with Wyndham. Of course that matters.”
Will was about to respond, though he was struggling to think what words might calm her, when he stopped, suddenly conscious that they were not alone. He breathed in deeply and looked at her and spoke quietly.
“There’s someone in the house.”
She looked ready to reply with another outburst, but caught herself and whispered, “What should we do?”
Before Will could answer, they heard a child’s laugh. They turned, looking towards the door. No one was there, but then the laugh came again, and hurried footsteps, and a little girl ran into the library. She was dressed for another age, and as she ran through the library, her pale blue dress rustled and she continued to laugh to herself. She didn’t notice Will and Eloise, but it was as if she failed to notice them in her own excitement rather than because she was a spirit. She looked and sounded quite real.
Eloise stared open-mouthed as the girl ran the length of the room and then hid behind a large leather armchair.
“Is that who you could …”
Will shook his head, taking in the air, still picking up a human scent, but he put his finger to his lips and looked towards the armchair. They could still hear the little girl laughing quietly in her hiding place.
“A ghost,” said Will.
Eloise looked at the chair that concealed her and whispered, “But she looked real.”
Will also kept his voice low, saying, “There is someone else living in this house, but not her. And if she is not living, what else could she be?”
Another laugh emerged from where the child hid. Will started to move towards the armchair and Eloise joined him. It was a little girl, nothing more, and yet both of them walked tentatively, a little nervous of what they might find there.
23
They both walked to the side of the armchair and looked down. There was the little girl, curled up into a ball with her face obscured, still laughing, her blonde ringlets tied in ribbons the same colour as her dress.
As if realising that they were standing there, she looked
up, saw them and screamed. Eloise jumped backwards at the noise, but Will realised immediately that it wasn’t a scream of terror, but of being found about her hide-and-seek.
The girl laughed immediately afterwards, jumped up and ran off, doing a full circuit of the library before she left through the door where she’d entered. Still, Will could detect another human scent from somewhere in the house, but there were indistinct noises everywhere, like a house creaking and groaning on a stormy night.
“How weird was …” said Eloise, but stopped as footsteps emerged from within the far wall. A moment later, the door to the secret passage opened and a man of advancing years appeared, portly, wearing a heavy brocade dressing gown. He crossed the library, ran his finger along one of the shelves, selected a book and disappeared as he’d come.
They listened to his footsteps retreating and then heard the unmistakable sound of a billiard ball being struck, hitting another. Eloise didn’t hesitate, but headed out towards the billiard room. Will followed her, ready to lead her through the darkness, but there was no need – the rest of the house was lit in some way, as if the air itself was luminous.
They crossed the hall, stopping only as a maid rushed in from the main door and up the stairs in front of them. The reception rooms on this wing of the house were interconnected and before they entered the dining room, Will stopped Eloise.
He whispered, “Stay behind me. These may be ghosts, but there is a living person here too.”
“Wyndham?”
“I don’t know.” He hoped so, and yet he knew Wyndham wouldn’t show himself unless he was confident of being stronger than Will. It was the only reason, Will was certain, that the sorcerer had not shown himself yet.
They moved through the dining room and drawing room, but the connecting doors were all open and they could already see two young men about a game of billiards in the room beyond. As Will and Eloise got closer, they put down their cues and left through the door into the next room, out of sight.
Will and Eloise stepped inside the billiard room, looking at the table and the unfinished game. Will looked briefly at the wall, the two sabres reminding him that he had left the third somewhere. He still had a clear memory of replacing it, but he had done so more than once, so perhaps his memory tricked him now.
Suddenly a woman’s voice called out behind them, “Really, Mr Wetherton, I think you tease us!” As Will and Eloise turned, a party of people laughed, joining in with the lady’s accusation, with one man, presumably Wetherton, making a light-hearted attempt to defend himself.
They were in the dining room, a full dinner apparent in the misty light that filled the house, servants in attendance, the gentle clatter of silverware on china. Will and Eloise started to walk back across the drawing room towards them, but stopped midway as the spirits all stood as one and moved towards the far doors, almost as if responding to Will and Eloise’s approach.
It seemed there was no need to whisper now, but Eloise still spoke quietly as she said, “What’s going on? It’s as if they know we’re here.”
Will shook his head, the only answer he could give, and continued towards the doors that divided drawing and dining rooms. The rest of the dinner guests were filing out of the door beyond, the last being the young lady who’d made the humorous accusation.
She was almost through the door, ready to close it behind her, when she looked back and stared directly at Will. It was a look tinged with sadness and concern, so full of misgiving that Will felt uneasy in response. It was as if she was trying to tell him something or warn him, but of what?
The far door closed, but the house was still full of noise. He heard footsteps running overhead, more giggling, though not the same child – this was a boy, he thought. Two billiard balls cracked together, but when Will and Eloise turned, no one was there behind them. Will stared for a second as the two balls rolled about the table and slowly came to rest.
A door slammed, then another, then every door on the floor above them shut one after the other, sounding like a volley of gunshots. It had seemed a harmless display until now, but in some subtle way the atmosphere had suddenly become sinister.
Eloise looked at him, all their previous disagreements forgotten as she said, “What should we do?”
Will didn’t need to answer. The air around them appeared to crackle, sparks of static here and there around the room which flew together as if drawn by a magnetic force, quickly forming into something resembling human shapes.
A harsh whisper close to them said, “Go!”
They turned, moving into the middle of the room, as the figures became clearer. It was the seven witches, but looking less solid than previously, as if they were struggling to form themselves.
Will said, “Is this your work?”
The one who spoke was standing near the entrance to the billiard room, but though the witches were all visible now, Will could still see through her to the table beyond.
Her voice was urgent, almost panicked, as she said, “Go! Get out of this house. Get out of this house now!”
The air crackled around them, and as if in fear themselves, the spirits appeared to catapult away, disappearing through the walls. A door slammed somewhere nearby. More noises sounded, of things moving throughout the house.
Will turned to Eloise, about to tell her to run, when he noticed her breath rising as mist in the cold. A sliding noise sounded all around them and every picture in the room crashed to the floor. The doors to the dining room slammed shut.
“Will?”
He reached out and took her hand, then heard an ominous clattering noise from the billiard room. He saw, almost too late, one of the sabres spinning through the air towards them, towards Eloise. He leapt forward and caught it by the blade in his right hand, immediately taking hold of the hilt with his left, ready to use it, for all a sabre might do against such forces.
The house was clattering with noise and disturbance. The tables and chairs around them were rattling on the floor. And then there was that human scent, growing stronger now, getting closer.
“Someone’s coming,” said Will, looking to the billiard room.
And then he was there, standing in the open doorway between the two rooms, looking amazed, but as disturbingly calm as ever. Marcus Jenkins.
He laughed and said, “What’s going on?”
Eloise pointed and said, “What are you doing here?”
Marcus was still smiling, still apparently unconcerned as he started walking towards them and said, “Duh? Following you.”
He heard a noise behind him and his eyes betrayed a hundred calculations taking place at once: the sound he’d heard, the sabre in Will’s hand, his position between the two of them and the billiard room.
He moved incredibly quickly, grabbing a chair, spinning round as he held it up to intercept the other sabre, which embedded itself in the chair back. He grabbed the hilt of the sword and pulled it free, throwing the chair to the floor and standing ready.
Will doubted Marcus had ever handled a sword before and yet he stood with the poise of someone who’d seen combat many times. He still wasn’t quick enough to spot one of the billiard balls as it shot past him, and turned only as it flew towards Eloise’s head.
Will was quicker, responding instinctively and slicing the ball in half with an explosive crack.
For the first time, Marcus appeared shocked as he looked at Eloise and shouted over the increasing noise, “That was aiming for your head.”
“Now you believe me,” said Will. “This is Wyndham’s work – he can’t kill me so he’s trying to kill Eloise. We have to get out of here.”
There was more noise from the billiard room and Marcus turned and fought to pull the doors shut, shouting, “Go! I’ll hold the doors till you’re out.”
Will moved towards the dining room doors, but immediately both those doors and the others being held by Marcus started to be bombarded with objects that thundered against the wood and fell to the floor. Once more, the obj
ects in the room about them started to move too. A picture suddenly flew from the floor across the room, Will knocking it down before it reached Eloise.
He picked up the chair Marcus had used and threw it hard at the window with such force that the glass and the entire frame shattered and exploded outwards on to the snow-covered gardens. Eloise didn’t need to be told what to do – she ran and jumped over the low sill and kept running until she was far enough to turn and look back.
Will looked at Marcus and said, “Come on.”
“You first!”
Will jumped out through the window and a few moments later, Marcus followed with the sound of the billiard room doors bursting open behind him and slamming against the walls. He reached Will and Eloise and immediately turned and held the sabre out in front of him, preparing to defend against whatever attack might follow them.
Nothing else left the house though. As the three of them stood there in the falling snow, Will and Marcus flanking Eloise, the house almost instantly became quiet. Then a calmer, more methodical noise started to emerge from the various rooms.
Marcus looked puzzled. “What now?”
Eloise said, “It sounds … it sounds like someone tidying up.”
She let out a small scream then as the chair that Will had used to break the window flew back into the drawing room as if pulled on an elastic cord. A moment later, the shattered glass and the wooden frame did the same, flying away from the ground and reforming unbroken where they had been before.
Indistinct shadows still moved about beyond the lit windows, but as the sounds slowly faded, so did the human forms, the spirit world retreating again, leaving the house as it had been a little while before. Apart from the two sabres, Will could imagine not a single thing would be out of place in there. And again, if it hadn’t been for his intentions, Will would have admired Wyndham for being able to perform such sorcery.
The lights started to dim. All the shadows had disappeared, but just as it seemed the spirits were gone, a silhouette appeared in one of the upstairs rooms, a female figure who stood as if looking down at them. It was a shadow, nothing more, but Will was certain it was the young lady they’d seen at dinner, the lady who’d looked back at him with such concern.
Alchemy, Book Two of the Mercian Trilogy Page 15
