“Uncle Silas lives over there?” said Adele. She looked searchingly up and down the bank of the swamp. “How do we get across? I can’t see a bridge.”
“Look,” said the chauffeur, pointing to the muddy water directly in front of them.
Adele watched as the surface of the water began to ripple and swirl. Then, without warning, the swamp’s surface parted and an enormous white platform began to emerge from below. Adele blinked several times. Whatever was coming to the surface looked like the top of a large rectangular spaceship and stretched from the bank of the swamp to the edge of the island.
A bridge was coming up!
The bridge, underpinned by a series of hydraulic lifts, emerged impressively from under the swamp. Adele had barely got over that surprise as she caught a fleeting glimpse of several dark alligators being lifted up out of the water on the bridge. She gasped, pointing at the water with a trembling finger.
“Alligators!” she cried, her voice cracking.
The chauffeur’s hearty laugh filled the limousine. “Right you are, Miss,” he declared. “The master has dozens of them living in the swamp. He’s very fond of reptiles, the master is.”
Very quickly the alligators scurried over the edge with a flick of their razorback tails and plunged back into the putrid swamp water. The limousine moved across the bridge and wound its way through rich fields of wildflowers and cultivated lawns that stretched out endlessly on either side of the gravel drive. The beauty of it lifted Adele’s mind from the murky depths of the swamp and soothed her; she lowered the window and took in the delicious perfume blowing up off the flower beds. Everywhere she looked there were more gardens—sweeping vistas of brilliant green flaring in the sunlight; open fields teeming with wildflowers, orchids, and rowan trees; majestic waterfalls shooting ribbons of water high into the air; marble statues of rather pompous-looking men and long hedged paths bordered by hawthorn trees covered in dazzling red berries.
They passed through a wide arched gateway and then Adele saw it. Sommerset House. It looked more like a castle than a house! Fronted by a long expanse of imposing ribbed vaults, the mansion featured dozens and dozens of full-length windows that swept up into a series of arches like an ancient cathedral. Soaring towers built with massive sandstone blocks loomed along the east and west wings of the house, each many stories high and topped by pointed spires.
As the limousine approached the portico with its thick columns of black marble, a large cloud passed overhead, blocking out the sun. Dark shadows fell across the mansion’s façade, swallowing the sharp edges of the stonework. Still gawking at her uncle’s grand home, Adele was suddenly struck by the form of the house. For a moment, just a second or two, it began to look monstrous—like a great squatting beast, the spired towers rising up like massive arms, talons poised to strike, the round windows of the central tower, two pulsing gray eyes. A chill rushed at her. She gasped.
Mercifully the clouds shifted and Sommerset House was glorious once more, bathed in a honeycomb sheen.
The limousine came to a gentle stop under the portico, and Adele reminded herself that houses, even ancient ones like Sommerset, did not have claws, and they certainly did not have eyes!
Even so, as a rather brutish-looking butler opened the car door and ushered her through the massive front door with its grand marble arch, her legs would not stop trembling. Once inside, however, there was little time to ponder all that she had seen. A rather lumpish-looking creature was hurrying toward her, barking orders at the maids who trailed after her like a flock of penguins. They all wore long black dresses topped with crisp white aprons and they appeared to nod in unison whenever the wrinkled old lady spoke. Dutifully, they collected Adele’s luggage (which consisted of an old suitcase, a parcel of books, and a backpack) and fled up the enormous staircase.
“Welcome to Sommerset House, Miss Adele,” said the old woman, revealing a warm smile. “My name is Mrs. Hammer, and I am the head housekeeper. Please follow me.”
The young girl followed the bowlegged housekeeper through the massive entrance hall, topped by a soaring glass dome that seemed to reach up into the sky. Her dark eyes sparkled as she passed the gold and silver elevator.
“Uncle Silas has his own elevator?”
“Two actually,” said Mrs. Hammer. “But the other is just a service elevator and not nearly as grand as this one. Come, we must hurry, your uncle is expecting you.”
Mrs. Hammer led Adele down a long corridor flanked by a series of stained-glass panels displaying an array of exotic flowers and plants. They entered a vast reception room full of old-fashioned couches and stiff wingback chairs. Large paintings decorated the walls and all seemed to feature very wrinkly men and women looking entirely miserable. Crossing the room briskly, Mrs. Hammer passed through a number of heavy oak doors that led directly into the Sommerset library.
The young girl spun around with a sense of awe. The library swept up an amazing three stories; the high walls lined in a grid of oak shelves packed to the rafters with books of every conceivable shape and size.
Adele was so caught up in the wonderland of books stacked all around her that it took a few moments for her to hear the sound of someone approaching behind her. Taking a deep breath, she turned, preparing to meet Uncle Silas for the first time.
Her eyes bulged. Then she screamed at the top of her lungs and leaped onto a mahogany reading table.
Thorn dragged his scaly belly along the dark wood floor of the library, his webbed claws clicking furiously across the room. Seeing the strange girl perched up on the reading table made him nervous, and he lunged toward her, his jaw springing open like he was a murderous carnival clown.
Adele let out another piercing scream.
The beast reared his neck up, snapping at the tabletop just inches from her leg. Adele slid across to the far end of the table, her eyes roaming the floor for signs of the scaly monster. Beneath her the creature dropped back to the floor, turned away, and slithered toward the doorway.
Still panting in terror, Adele looked over and saw a sickly looking man with long dark hair sitting in a wheelchair by the door. He was smiling, but Adele could not be certain what sort of smile it was.
“I see you have met Thorn,” said Silas, gliding into the library. “You may get down, child.”
Adele didn’t move. Getting down seemed like a positively stupid idea.
“Is…is it tame?” she asked.
“Certainly not,” said Silas, offended by the idea. “He is a savage beast.”
“He could eat us all!” she shouted.
“Indeed,” said Silas brightly. “Fortunately, Thorn only attacks on command.”
“You promise?”
“I do.” Silas’s face softened slightly. “Come down, Adele, I should like to take a look at you.”
With considerable hesitation, Adele climbed down from the reading table and walked slowly across the room toward her uncle. The crocodile showed her no further interest, lying down in front of the fireplace and resting his mammoth jaw on an embroidered cushion.
The closer Adele got to her uncle the more he seemed to resemble a ghost—with his gray skin, flowing black hair, and powdery white eyebrows. Her steps got smaller. He was the strangest looking person she had ever laid eyes on.
“Come closer, child,” said Silas softly.
Adele stepped tentatively toward her uncle.
“Closer,” whispered Silas eagerly.
Her spine tingled. She took another halting step. For some time Silas’s crackling eyes looked her over, from the top of her bright red hair down to her worn sneakers.
“What an interesting looking girl you are,” said Silas finally, “and so very orange.”
Adele bristled at the remark. You see, her hair had always been a sore point. The professor delighted in reminding Adele that the Winterbottom clan was famous for their lux
urious dark hair. “It is tragic,” her mother would declare, looking at Adele’s red locks with disdain. “If you weren’t my daughter I would swear you were part orangutan!”
“My hair is not pretty,” Adele told her uncle matter-of-factly, “but it will not last forever. When I am older I’m going to dye it black.”
“I see,” said Silas, a sly grin playing on his thin lips. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think your hair is quite remarkable. Now tell me, how is my dear sister?”
“The professor—I mean, Mother is very well.”
“Excellent.” Silas grinned. “And tell me, did she send you here to get my money?”
Adele gasped, her face draining to a pasty white. “Uncle Silas, what a terrible thing to say!”
“Nonsense,” said Silas sharply. “Your mother is as devious as a caged rat, and I am well aware of your family’s desperate financial circumstances.”
Adele did not know what to say or where to look. Silas’s words cut through her like blades. It was as if he had opened her up and could see everything she was trying to hide.
“I have upset you,” said Silas, watching her with a certain fascination.
“No, you haven’t,” said Adele, biting on her bottom lip.
“I am not angry at you, child,” said Silas warmly. “The truth is I admire your mother’s greed. So please do not think I judge you harshly. Your mission is a noble one, and I wish you luck.”
Silas moved his chair over to the fireplace and pushed a silver button. “You must forgive me, Adele, for I am not well enough to entertain you this afternoon,” he said, waving Mrs. Hammer into the library and instructing her to show his niece upstairs to her room. “I shall see you at dinner—six sharp. I prefer to eat alone, but while you are here we can take our meals together.”
With that Mrs. Hammer placed her arm on Adele’s shoulder and led her out of the library. They walked up a set of back stairs to the third floor and turned into a wide corridor bathed in soft afternoon sunlight. Mrs. Hammer opened the first door on the right and ushered Adele inside a spacious, beautifully furnished room with bright comfortable chairs, a large canopy bed that looked like it could sleep five people comfortably, and a warm fire burning in the hearth.
“It’s a fine room,” declared Mrs. Hammer. “The master wanted you children to have the best of everything.”
Adele nodded, still too upset to speak.
“Well, you get some rest now, Miss Winterbottom, and I’ll have one of the maids bring you up a snack in an hour or so.”
Mrs. Hammer took another satisfied look around the bedroom chamber before excusing herself. Finally alone, Adele collapsed on the canopy bed. Uncle Silas was a cruel man! Winning his trust and affection seemed an impossible task—he already knew why she was there and what the professor wanted her to do. Feeling the weight of her mission, Adele surrendered to the tears she had been holding back all day. With no one around to hear her in the vast empty wing of Sommerset House, Adele buried her face in a pillow and cried long into the afternoon.
6
Planting Seeds
It was a raining heavily when Silas, followed loyally by Thorn, made his way into the conservatory to greet his new arrival—Miss Isabella Winterbottom. He found the girl sitting patiently in a large armchair, her hands neatly folded in her lap. She was wearing a pretty white dress and had a silk ribbon around her silky black hair.
“Uncle Silas!” she yelled as the ghostly master of Sommerset moved toward her. “I’m so happy to finally meet you!” She jumped up and embraced her uncle, planting a large kiss on each of his pale cheeks. “I cannot thank you enough for inviting me to Sommerset,” she said excitedly. “This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen!”
“I’m glad you like it, Isabella,” said Silas. He watched Isabella’s face with a sense of delicious anticipation as he waited for the young girl to look past his chair and see the predatory reptile slinking along the floor behind him.
Like clockwork, Isabella’s large blue eyes dropped from her uncle’s gaze to the ground behind him. Silas leaned closer, waiting for the terrified scream to tear from her lungs.
“Ohhhh, how cute!” she purred, crouching down to pat the creature on the sharp contours of his swampy green flesh. “What is his name, Uncle?”
For once Silas was lost for words. He turned his chair and watched in amazement as Isabella stroked his deadly pet as if it were a puppy. For his part, Thorn growled softly at the strange girl, thoroughly enjoying the attention.
“His name…is Thorn,” Silas managed to say. “You are not afraid of him?”
“Oh, no,” said Isabella, laughing gently. “I think he’s sweet.”
“Indeed,” said Silas, unable to conceal his disappointment.
“Now, Uncle,” said Isabella, getting to her feet. “There is one piece of business I would like to get out of the way.” She reached into a pocket and produced a folded envelope that she passed to her uncle. “This is the check for ten thousand dollars that you sent to me. I am returning it to you.”
“Returning it?” said Silas with not a little indignation.
“That’s right,” said Isabella matter-of-factly. “The truth is, my father has been very successful in business, and I had no need for your money. It would be a terrible waste if I took money I didn’t need, don’t you think?”
Silas could only nod. The young lady entranced him as she glided about the conservatory like a princess in her palace. The performance was extraordinary!
“Tell me, Isabella,” he said casually, “do I look sick to you?”
“Oh, yes, terribly sick, Uncle,” she said earnestly. “In fact, I was just thinking to myself, poor Uncle Silas is the sickest looking thing I’ve ever seen.”
The pale man smiled thinly. “How very honest you are.”
“There is one more thing I wish to clear up,” said Isabella, who had walked the length of the conservatory and was now touching the dark narrow leaves of a potted fig tree. “I know that you are dying and that you have probably invited me here to decide if I would make a suitable heir.” She stopped and looked at her uncle intently. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Possibly,” said Silas.
“Then I need to make one thing very clear, Uncle,” said Isabella firmly. “I have no interest in your money or your house—as beautiful as it is. In fact, if you were to make me your heir I would have to refuse.” She smiled warmly at Silas. “I hope you’re not too angry with me.”
Isabella peered closely at her uncle’s darkened eyes—they seemed to be dancing. “Not at all,” said Silas soothingly. “Such frankness is a very rare thing. How old are you, child?”
“I’m thirteen,” said Isabella proudly.
“You are the eldest,” he said playfully, leading Isabella through the morning room and into the entrance hall. “I expect you will be a good influence on your cousins.”
Isabella stopped suddenly. “Did you say cousins?”
“Indeed,” said Silas. “Adele and Milo—they are your cousins, are they not?”
“Yes, Uncle, but I’m a little confused,” said Isabella. “Wasn’t Milo Winterbottom killed by a volcano?”
Silas’s eyes narrowed, as if he were reaching for a memory that he had long since discarded. Finally, his eyes crackled. “Oh, that,” he said grimly. “There was an eruption, that much is true; however, your cousin Milo was not a casualty. It seems he was playing in a cave when the volcano erupted.” Silas ran a bony finger over his bottom lip. “Not disappointed, are you?”
“Disappointed?” Isabella cleared her throat—the certainty flooding back into her refined voice. “I’m thrilled! When father told me that poor Milo was dead, I cried for hours. But now I have two cousins to get to know. Oh, Uncle, this is the best day of my life!”
“I hope there are even better ones to come,” said Silas as h
e summoned an under-butler. “Escort my niece to her room, and make sure she has everything she needs.”
Isabella kissed her uncle and once again declared her unimaginable happiness before following the under-butler up the grand staircase. She gave a final wave to Silas, climbing the large marble stairs with all the poise of a princess in a castle.
Silas watched until she disappeared into the corridor along the eastern wing. After returning to the conservatory, he fed Thorn from a silver tray layered with raw strips of water buffalo, and then summoned Mrs. Hammer, informing the head housekeeper that his niece was to be given every possible attention.
“Of course, sir,” said the housekeeper with considerable enthusiasm—Isabella had deeply impressed Mrs. Hammer on their first meeting by complimenting the old lady on her remarkably youthful appearance (which was complete nonsense because everyone who knew Mrs. Hammer agreed that her face resembled a baked potato). Isabella had made particular mention of her dignified nose and delicate ears. “She seems like such a delightful child!”
“Watch her closely, Mrs. Hammer,” instructed Silas. “Watch and listen—I want to know everything she does.”
“But, sir, surely you don’t suspect her of any wrongdoing?”
“She is a Winterbottom,” said Silas proudly. “I would expect nothing less.”
7
The Reluctant Guest
Please make yourself comfortable, Master Milo,” instructed the bald under-butler with the enormous bottom lip. “Your uncle will be along shortly.”
Milo Winterbottom was determined to hate Sommerset from the moment he accepted his uncle’s invitation. Yet, as the limousine had crossed the bridge, weaving between acres of gardens exploding with color and meadows teeming with wildflowers, his hatred dissolved into awe and wonder.
For a boy who spent most of his free time in a florist, the grounds of Sommerset were a kind of nirvana. Everywhere he looked thousands of blooms sprang up from among sparkling rivers of lush green lawn in a tapestry of colors.
The Body Thief Page 4
