In the morning, a message arrived express for Mr. Kimball. Within minutes, the whole staff had the news:
Lord and Lady Schofield were to arrive that very day. Everyone worked with particular zeal to bring Skeynes to a peak of beauty and comfort. Frederick was finished with his duties by midday, so he went to find Bess.
The moment Bess laid eyes on him, she felt his forehead. “Frederick, what’s wrong? Are you running a fever? You look dreadful. Are you sickening for something?”
“No. I need your help.” Frederick urged Bess out of the servants’ hall and down the steps toward the still room. “You mustn’t tell anyone. Not anyone. Promise!”
“What’s happened? Are you sure you’re not sick?” Bess let Frederick chivy her until they were out of sight of the other servants, then dug in her heels and refused to go another step. “Are you in trouble? Whatever it is, I can’t promise anything until you tell me what you want.”
“I’m not in trouble.” Frederick took a good look at Bess and decided to risk complete honesty. “Promise you won’t tell.”
“I can only promise to use my wits.” Bess put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Tell me.”
The way Bess’s eyes flashed, Frederick knew it was no use trying to swear her to secrecy first. Trusting to her good sense, he told her everything he knew.
Bess was silent for long moments after Frederick finished speaking. When she spoke at last, she was frowning so fiercely, Frederick thought for a moment she might be angry with him. “You must warn his lordship. He and Lady Schofield are to arrive today, so there’s no time to send a message.”
Frederick had worked that much out for himself. “I could try to stop the carriage, but if I wait until they pull up at the door, he might ignore me and go straight in before I can get his attention.”
“You’re right.” Bess’s face brightened. “Do you know the gatehouse, just off the main road? The carriage slows down there to make the turn. If you wait at the gatehouse, you can warn his lordship before the carriage comes near the house.”
Frederick started for the door. “Tell me how to find it. Do I just keep on down the lane until I reach the main road?”
“Yes, it’s easy—but I’ll show you the way. Just wait half a moment—I must put on my bonnet.” Bess whisked off.
Frederick did not wait. He knew he risked losing his position, abandoning his duties without permission to lie in wait for his lordship’s carriage. It would never do for Bess to get the sack because she helped him do it. He legged it out the door and across the stable yard.
Not five hundred yards down the lane, Bess caught up with him, bonnet crooked and face scarlet with suppressed rage. “Traitor!”
Frederick didn’t slow down. “No sense in both of us risking the sack. Go back.”
Despite her skirts, Bess matched him stride for stride with no difficulty. “Not a chance.”
Sometimes only walking fast, but sometimes running, they hurried down the graveled lane together. On either hand grew tall hedges full of birds and blossoms. Frederick ignored the beauty of the day. He had a grim message to deliver.
9
IN WHICH FREDERICK DELIVERS A MESSAGE
Where the lane met the main road was the gatehouse Bess had spoken of. Although the gatehouse was old, it was new to Frederick. Intent on his first glimpse of Skeynes, he had been looking the other way when the coach arrived. To Frederick, it looked like a cottage made out of the forest itself. Moss covered the steep roof. Ivy grew over the walls so thick, the gatehouse was easy to miss.
Bess rapped at the door until Stoke the gatekeeper emerged. He moved so slowly, Frederick half expected the old man to have patches of moss himself.
“What’s the trouble, young ones?” The gatekeeper, once he finally joined them, had a voice as slow as his steps. He took his time sizing them up. “You two look all of a rumple. What’s wrong?”
Bess told Stoke who they were. “We have a message we must give to his lordship as soon as possible.”
Frederick added, “It’s important.”
“Is it, now?” The gatekeeper scratched at his chin whiskers. “Unaccountable flighty his young lordship has always been, but word has come he means to arrive today. Settle down on the bench here. We will watch for him together.”
Bess accepted the offer with thanks. Frederick sat down beside her and looked around. The stone wall was in good repair, but there was no sign whatever of a gate. “What good is a gatehouse without a gate?” he muttered to Bess.
Despite his years, there seemed nothing whatever wrong with Stoke’s hearing. “There’s gates and then there’s gates, youngster. If you mean a big door you can lock, there was a gate here once, but that was long ago. It’s gone to ruins now. They nearly let this gatehouse go to ruins too, but his lordship had them mend my roof when he mended the great house, after the wizards finished their house cleaning.”
Frederick sat up straight. “You were here when the curse was broken?” Stoke certainly looked as if he’d been there since Noah’s flood.
“That I was, youngster.” Stoke scratched at his chin again. “Some say wizards only play tricks on those they claim to help. I know better. Those wizards earned every penny of their wages.”
Frederick could hardly keep his seat. “What did they do? What was it like?”
“It was like spring-cleaning in a madhouse. I kept my distance, but there were flashes like lightning over the trees there. When morning came at last, we had rain like it would never stop. You wouldn’t believe me now, if I told you how this roof leaked. Fair washed me away. Now for you and the lass. Must be something dreadful important to bring the pair of you out from the great house and away from your duties for so long, all lest you miss his lordship.”
Frederick nodded. His conscience pained him enough as it was. He didn’t want to add lying to his misdeeds. Stoke didn’t seem like the sort of person one could tell lies to. So Frederick held his peace. When he didn’t speak and Bess didn’t either, Stoke let the silence grow for several minutes.
At last, the old man turned to Bess. “With that ginger hair of yours, you have a look about you, lass, and a look I think I know. Is your mother Mary Briggs?”
“She was before she wed my father,” Bess answered. “She’s Mistress Mary Parker now.”
Stoke was delighted. “I thought I knew the look of you. Your mother was maid here at Skeynes and met your father when she went off to London with the old lord and lady.”
“Yes. Papa was a footman in the London household,” Bess said. “He is Lord Ravelston’s butler now.”
“Are you the only child?” Stoke asked.
“Oh, no. I have two sisters and a brother,” said Bess. “I’m young to be one of the maids brought to Skeynes, but Mama wanted me to know her family here. I have an aunt working in the dairy at the home farm. Another year and Clarence, that’s my brother, ought to find a position in the London household as well.”
Frederick looked at Bess with wonder. “Is that why you were so happy to be sent off to the country? I didn’t know your mother was so good at arranging things.”
Bess looked pleased with herself. “I would have told you all about it, if you had seemed even a little interested. It is because you don’t have family of your own. You never think to ask.”
Stoke beamed his approval. “Good for you, lass, for keeping your tongue still. Plenty of folk clack far too freely, to folk they think they know, and worse, to strangers.”
“You may always clack to me, Bess,” Frederick said. “You know that, don’t you?”
Bess laughed at him. “You must clack to me first.”
“I do,” said Frederick, remembering how he had trusted her with news of Billy Bly’s return almost without a second thought. “I clack to you more than to anyone else.”
“And that’s good for you, lad,” Stoke observed. “Choose a friend who knows how to keep a confidence. You won’t regret it.”
The three of them chatt
ed companionably until the day drew to a close. Stoke, happy to play the host, shared his porridge with them. After the dishes had been washed up, they sat on the bench again, in silence this time, just enjoying the peace of the long summer twilight.
Frederick lifted his head to listen as the breeze brought them a scrap of new sound from the distance. It was little more than a rattle of wheels and the ring of harness, the sound of a carriage driven at a good, steady speed.
At Frederick’s reaction, Stoke nodded. “You hear it too?”
“A carriage?” Bess asked. “Is it his lordship’s?”
“That we won’t know until we see them,” Stoke replied. “Likely it is, though. It’s a carriage drawn by four horses. No cart horses, neither. Proper high-bred’uns.”
The three of them strained eyes and ears in the dusk. Bit by bit, the sounds of a carriage approaching grew louder and more complex. There was a steady thud of hooves, a squeaking of carriage springs, a bright chime of metal on metal as harness fittings rattled and shook.
“Not in a hurry, I’d say,” said Stoke as he moved out into the roadway. “But it’s a spanking trot for any team and a cracking good rate for a team at the end of a long day.”
Frederick felt as if his breeches itched, he was so eager to warn Lord Schofield of his danger. He and Bess flanked Stoke. When the carriage finally came into view around the nearest turn, all three of them waved their arms and shouted.
It was Lord Schofield’s carriage, right enough. The four horses went from a steady trot to a walk under the command of the driver, Lord Schofield himself. As the carriage slowed, Lord Schofield gave the reins to his coachman.
“Walk them, Foster.” Lord Schofield clambered down from his perch. He spoke a few words into the open window of the carriage, then hurried over to join them. “What is it, Stoke? Trouble?”
“That’s as may be, your lordship,” Stoke replied, jerking a thumb in Frederick’s direction. “There’s a message for you.”
Now that the moment had finally come, Frederick couldn’t think of a thing to say that didn’t begin with the dangerous words Billy Bly, so he simply stared at Lord Schofield without speaking. He knew Stoke was looking on with interest. He felt Bess right beside him, all silent encouragement. Yet he did not know what to say.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” Lord Schofield took off his top hat and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. “Taken a vow of silence?”
Here was someone Frederick knew he dared not lie to. He only wanted to tell the truth, nothing but the truth. Yet not the whole truth. Frederick braced himself and began. “The curse has returned, my lord. You mustn’t come back. You’re in great danger if you do.”
Lord Schofield grew quite still. For a moment, he might have been a statue, he was so motionless. Only his eyes burned into Frederick. When he spoke, his lips scarcely moved. His voice was so deep, it seemed to rumble in his chest. “Go on.”
“That’s all, my lord.” Frederick was caught in Lord Schofield’s gaze. He could not look away. His childish fear of having his bones ground to powder by the wizard did not seem so silly after all.
“No, it isn’t.” Lord Schofield’s tone was gentle but his eyes were relentless. “Go on.”
Before Frederick could speak, the carriage door opened. Piers emerged and helped Lady Schofield descend. As she made her way to join them, Frederick saw by her thick figure and slow gait that she was expecting a child. Frederick found her presence comforting. Surely his lordship would not do anything too dreadful to him in front of his young wife?
Bess poked Frederick in the ribs. It took him a moment to understand why. Only when she dropped a curtsy to her ladyship did Frederick remember to make a bow to Lady Schofield himself.
“What’s the trouble, Thomas?” Lady Schofield looked tired and pale. “Is something wrong?”
“What an excellent question. Out with it, Frederick,” said Lord Schofield. “What have you done?”
“Me? I never,” Frederick protested.
Lord Schofield was stern. “Speak now, young Frederick, or forever hold your peace.”
Frederick stammered a little as he began. He wanted to leave all mention of Billy Bly out of his account. But that omission made it hard to organize his thoughts properly. As he went on, bit by bit, he grew more forceful. “I—that is, with Mr. Kimball’s permission, your lordship—I sleep in your dressing room. Things aren’t right. There’s something in the chimney, sir, something not natural. They’ve had the sweeps in again and again, but something’s amiss up there. I know you had eleven wizards in to break the curse on your house, but they said it could grow back. It has.”
“Has it?” Lord Schofield turned to his wife. “Kate, given your condition, I assume you won’t mind waiting here with Piers. You will have Stoke and the maid to look after you while I investigate this.”
“You may assume nothing of the sort.” Lady Schofield raised a hand to stop her husband before he could protest. “I mind waiting very much, here or anywhere else.”
“You will be perfectly safe and comfortable here. Piers will be with you.” Lord Schofield kept his stern gaze on Frederick. “The lad comes with me.”
Lady Schofield answered, “I only mind because you intend to go off without me.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. If something goes wrong, I will return. Piers and I shall whisk you off to Gloucester,” Lord Schofield replied.
“You will do no such thing.” Lady Schofield was all patience. “We have discussed this more than once, Thomas. There are situations when it is best we stay together. I thought we had agreed.”
Frederick could not quite understand why she was still holding up her left hand before Lord Schofield’s face, but Lord Schofield seemed to feel she had made a good point. He took her gloved hand and kissed it just where her wedding ring would be.
“Oh, very well. But if you insist I focus on the work before us, you must stay close to me. Now. First things first. Fetch a light, Stoke. Piers, keep your eyes open.”
It took time, but Stoke eventually emerged from the gatehouse bearing a lantern. The golden light it cast made Frederick notice how the long dusk had finally turned into evening.
“Excellent. Hold it for me just there.” Lord Schofield positioned Stoke and the lantern carefully, then handed his gloves to his wife.
As Lady Schofield and the servants all looked on in silence, Lord Schofield used the index finger of his right hand to trace a circle in the dust of the lane. As he worked, he murmured to himself, words Frederick did not understand. When the circle had been marked here and there with seemingly random lines, Lord Schofield straightened to his full height. Muttering all the while, he made three quick hand gestures, as if he were giving someone directions. At last, he bent over and studied the circle intently.
Frederick saw nothing to account for Lord Schofield’s interest. It was just a circle in the dirt.
“Bearing in mind that I never perceived the original curse, nothing I do can establish absolutely the presence or absence of an evil spell. Still, it looks clear to me.” Lord Schofield sighed and dusted his hands. Lady Schofield gave him back his gloves. Frowning, he drew them on. “I would be a great deal happier if you would permit me to take you somewhere else for the night, Kate.”
“It looks clear to you,” said Lady Schofield. “Meaning, you detect nothing to suggest there’s any danger?”
“Not so much as a shimmer that shouldn’t be there. But that’s only my perception. Ought we to call in reinforcements, would you say?”
“More people, when we have come all this way to find a bit of peace and quiet?” Lady Schofield smiled fondly at him. “If you think it is safe, take me home, Thomas.”
As he drew his wife close, Lord Schofield’s expression was soppiness personified. “Oh, Kate.”
Disgusted by the sentimentality, Frederick had to look away.
“I promise, at the sound of the first shriek, I will insist you drive us both back to London,” said
Lady Schofield.
“That’s all very well,” grumbled Lord Schofield. “What if I’m the one shrieking?”
“In all the time I have known you, I have never heard you shriek.” Lady Schofield thought it over. “It’s more of a roaring sound.”
“Piers, bring the lantern.” Lord Schofield offered his arm to Lady Schofield and the pair of them strolled up the drive toward the house. “I never roar. And after all, you haven’t known me so long as all that.”
Frederick, vexed at their air of being out for a twilight stroll, followed Piers and the lantern, with Bess still at his elbow. Foster, now driving the carriage and letting the horses amble slowly along, brought up the rear. Stoke waved them off and went back inside the gatehouse.
“It’s been years since we met,” Lady Schofield said. “If ever you were going to shriek, surely I would have heard you do so by now.”
“You have a point,” Lord Schofield said. “Still, you never know. I might shriek at any moment.”
“It will be more of a roar,” Lady Schofield predicted. “Not that you couldn’t shriek beautifully if you took a notion to do so, my dear.”
After a hundred yards of this, Frederick dropped back far enough that he did not have to listen to any more of their foolish chatter. He didn’t know how Piers kept from retching.
Night had fallen by the time they reached the house.
“Not the best light to admire it by,” said Lord Schofield to his wife, “but welcome to your new home just the same, Kate. Custom now demands I carry you over the threshold.”
“Common sense forbids it,” Lady Schofield replied firmly.
“That lets me out, then.” So saying, Lord Schofield swept Lady Schofield up in his arms and carried her bodily up the steps. Alarmed, Frederick brought up the rear, ready to brace his employer if he lost his balance under the burden.
Mr. Kimball must have been watching their approach, for the front door swung open just as Lord Schofield reached the top step. Lord Schofield’s hat fell off but he did not hesitate. He carried his wife over the threshold and put her back on her feet in the front hall. Bess helped her tidy the disarray his lordship’s grip caused to Lady Schofield’s gown.
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