The House Called Hadlows

by Victoria Clayton

  THE HOUSE CALLED

  HADLOWS

  Victoria Walker

  Copyright

  The House Called Hadlows

  This book is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  e-book editions copyright © Victoria Clayton Limited 2012

  ISBN: 978-1-908720-62-7

  First Published 1972 by André Deutsch, 1972

  Published by Fidra Books, 2007

  The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Conventions. By payment of the required fees you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced to any information storage and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ebook by EBooks by Design

  www.ebooksbydesign.co

  By the same author

  Other Fiction by Victoria Clayton

  Out of Love

  Past Mischief

  Dance With Me

  Running Wild

  Clouds Among the Stars

  Moonshine

  A Girl’s Guide to Kissing Frogs

  Stormy Weather

  For children, as Victoria Walker

  The Winter of Enchantment

  The House Called Hadlows

  www.victoriaclayton.co.uk

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Afterword

  SOMEWHERE deep in the heart of the English countryside, about the turn of the century, a small thrush broke his flight and came to rest on the damp earth. Then he held his head on one side and listened to the rattle of a coach as it rumbled its way down the lane between high hedges thick with dog-roses.

  If it had been able to understand human speech, it would have distinguished from the murmurings inside the carriage a conversation which ran something like this:

  ‘Well, I think it’s rotten of Mother and Father to choose the summer holidays to go away.’

  ‘Oh, Sebastian, don’t be silly. It was the only time they could go. And you know how sorry Father was about it. Do try and cheer up. You’re making me feel jolly gloomy going on like that.’

  The girl who had just spoken, sighed and leaned back in her seat with the air of one less than content. She was thirteen years old, tall and quite grown-up looking for her age. This was accentuated by the sober green of her travelling cloak and the fact that her hair, which usually fell about her face in untidy brown curls, was now tied neatly in a pleat at the back of her neck. Her green eyes looked miserable.

  ‘Well, who are Uncle Bertram and Aunt Augusta anyway?’ continued her companion. ‘They might be really awful and we’ve got to spend three whole months with them. Oh, why did Uncle Jim’s cook have to get measles? We could have had a ripping time with them.’

  ‘Well, Uncle Bertram is Mother’s brother you know,’ she replied, ‘so he can’t be that bad.’

  ‘But she hasn’t seen him for years. And he’s much older than she is. They might be positively decrepit. We’ll have to be painfully polite all the time and wear clean clothes every day.’ His face paled at the thought of this most exquisite torture, inflicted upon nephews by their aged and simple aunts. ‘And she’ll have some repulsive lap-dog to be brushed and combed twice a day.’

  Melissa couldn’t help laughing at this picture of gloom.

  ‘I’m sure it won’t be as bad as that. I wish you wouldn’t keep nudging me with your elbow all the time. It’s very irritating.’

  ‘It’s this wretched collar. It’s digging into my neck and I can hardly breathe.’

  ‘Oh, poor Sebastian. I knew there must be something wrong to make you so disagreeable. Let me undo the button for you. We can fasten it just before we get to the house. It might be another hour yet.’

  Sebastian leaned forward and his sister unclipped the stud. Then he sat back with a sigh of relief and rubbed his aching neck.

  ‘Phew! Thanks, Melissa. That’s much better. I wonder why all parents have the thing about relations being much fussier about appearances than they are. Still I won’t moan any more. I don’t feel nearly so cross now that collar’s gone. Perhaps it won’t be so bad after all. And it is the country.’

  ‘Oh yes! Look, there’s a hare!’ cried Melissa.

  And both children leaned out of the carriage window to watch the elegant creature lope into the hedgerow with a flick of its black-tipped ears.

  At that moment the carriage turned a sudden bend in the road and came to a standstill.

  ‘Oh look, Sebastian, we must be here. I say, it looks quite different from what I imagined.’

  A pair of tall gates rose up before them. They were old, and rather rusty. From two stone posts on either side ran a high wall as far as the eye could see. Seated on either post was a rampant lion. Underneath the one on the left was carved the word ‘Hadlows’ and beneath the one on the right, ‘House’.

  ‘Hadlows House,’ murmured Melissa to herself. ‘Yes, I rather like that.’

  The coachman opened the gates with some difficulty, they were obviously little used, and then the carriage passed through.

  ‘Good heavens! It’s enormous,’ cried Sebastian, looking at the endless acres of park and woodland which stretched to the horizon. ‘Uncle Bertram must be jolly rich. It’s funny Mother never mentioned it.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Melissa. ‘It’s very overgrown, isn’t it? I mean, look how long the grass is. And those trees over there — some of them look quite dead, and yet no one has cut them down.’

  They looked at the confusion of fallen tree trunks, overgrown with tendrils of ivy and grey moss and the tall thick grass, feathered and choked with daisies. Wisps of mist floated and clung to the branches of the trees.

  ‘I rather like it like this, though,’ said Sebastian. ‘It’s more beautiful than a cultivated garden.’

  The carriage rolled on down the drive, the overhanging trees scraping the roof as they passed beneath.

  ‘Oh look, Melissa. A lake!’

  ‘Where? I can’t see it.’

  ‘Neither can I, now. It must be behind those trees. Good gracious, is this the house?’

  The carriage drew to a standstill on a sweep of gravel and there, rising above them, was the house called Hadlows.

  The children looked in silence at the mass of decaying, grey stone. And it was as if a veil was drawn away from their eyes and they passed back through time to a different age. A thousand windows looked down at them; dark, whispering of secrets. Chimneys and towers, worn by centuries of wind and rain, jostled for position o
n the skyline. The smooth, stone walls were patched with black ivy which grew up to the battlements. A broad flight of steps ran up to the front door which stood slightly ajar.

  ‘Well,’ said Sebastian, ‘I suppose we’d better go and ring the bell. There doesn’t seem to be anyone about.’

  So the children climbed out of the carriage and helped the coachman to unload their luggage. Then the coachman touched his cap and drove off.

  A long chain with a rusty old handle hung by the open door. Sebastian gave it a tug. Then a muffled bell began to toll deep inside the house, and a great clamour began overhead. The children craned their necks and saw a great bell swinging in the top of the tower. Then a large clock set into the wall below the battlements started to chime loudly and solemnly, and the children began to feel quite embarrassed by the noise they were causing. Quite suddenly the noise ceased and a deep hush fell over the garden. It was shattered a few seconds later by a harsh, inhuman cry.

  Melissa grabbed Sebastian’s arm and Sebastian jumped.

  ‘Don’t clutch me like that,’ he said rather crossly. He was feeling somewhat unnerved.

  ‘Oh Sebastian, what was that?’ whispered Melissa. ‘It sounded dreadful.’

  ‘Come on, Melissa. Pull yourself together. We must look like a pair of idiots gaping on the doorstep. Someone must come now.’

  And just as he said that, the door swung wide. The children hesitated for a moment and then stepped inside.

  They found themselves in a large hall. It was rather dark, the only light coming from a small, round window, high up in the wall, the panes of which were stained yellow and red. A circle of gold and crimson light fell at the head of a broad flight of stone stairs, which split into two half way up, both ends vanishing into darkness. There wasn’t a single piece of furniture, but the walls were covered from floor to ceiling with dark paintings. From each one a pale, still face stared down at the children as they stood waiting in the hall which, apart from themselves, was quite empty.

  ‘Sebastian,’ said Melissa with an attempt at a whisper, which was difficult for the word was snatched from her lips and flung echoingly against the walls. ‘Who opened the door?’

  ‘Perhaps it was the wind,’ said Sebastian quietly. And his voice made a windy, rushing sound.

  ‘I feel quite frightened. Why hasn’t anybody come? There’s something strange about this house. It’s almost as if —’

  And here she broke off, for a soft voice came whispering through the air somewhere to the left of them. ‘Welcome Sebastian and Melissa. You are well come.’

  The children peered nervously around them for still they could see no one.

  Then a door opened to the right of the staircase and a shaft of light swept into the hall. A thin, stooping figure shuffled through and when he saw the children he held out his hands.

  ‘Here you are at last, my dears. Welcome to Hadlows!’ he boomed. ‘I knew you’d have the sense to come in if I left the door open. The bell doesn’t work any more and my hearing isn’t what it used to be. Well, well, well. So you’re Ailsa’s little girl.’

  And Melissa found both her hands held firmly in two large, rather hairy ones and she looked up into his beaming face. A pair of blue eyes met hers, slightly faded with age, but still alive and intelligent. He was so wrinkled that Melissa guessed he must be nearly a century old. A strong nose, curved like a hawk’s beak, jutted over his chin. On his head he wore a purple skull cap, finely embroidered, and from it escaped wisps of silver hair which hung almost to his shoulders. This curious mode of dress was completed by a long brown quilted dressing-gown and a pair of very worn carpet slippers. Melissa liked him at once.

  When he had finished his scrutiny of her he turned to Sebastian, who was fidgeting with his collar stud, unhappily aware that his collar was flapping inelegantly around his neck.

  ‘I’m delighted to have you here, young man. I hope you won’t find us too dull. There’s a fine garden here, although it’s a little over-run. I daresay young people with imagination can keep themselves tolerably well amused. I do hope you brought something more comfortable to wear,’ he added, noticing Sebastian’s discomfiture. ‘We don’t worry about dress here. Why don’t you take that collar off and come and have tea with Augusta. You can change afterwards.’

  Sebastian did so with a feeling of great relief and followed Melissa and Uncle Bertram from the hall, thinking to himself that perhaps things weren’t going to turn out so badly after all.

  The room which they entered was very light, due to a great many windows set in the thick stone walls, and was furnished with comfortable chairs and sofas, rather patched and faded, but retaining traces of their former beauty. A small fire burned in the grate and by it sat a tiny person whose face broke into smiles when she saw them.

  ‘Ah, how lovely to have young people in the house again. Come and kiss me, my dear. And may I shake your hand, Sebastian? Forgive me for not getting up. I’ve been crippled for many years now and cannot walk.’

  Melissa went over and kissed her aunt gently on the cheek. Her skin was very white and smooth and it was only when Melissa looked more closely that she saw it was covered with fine lines like the skin on boiled milk. She was dressed in violet silk and her white hair was gathered on to the top of her head like a cluster of flowers. Despite her age, she gave the impression of vitality and youth, and when she laughed, Melissa felt that she was really no older than herself.

  Aunt Augusta poured the tea and invited the children to help themselves to the cakes and muffins.

  Then Melissa asked the question which had been worrying her for some time.

  ‘Why did you say that the bell didn’t work? Because we heard it quite distinctly, as well as the bell in the tower. And then there was a really frightening noise, almost like a scream, just afterwards.’

  Aunt Augusta gave a little start and Uncle Bertam said at once, ‘Well, I can tell you what that noise was. We have an ancient, rather scruffy peacock, descended from a long line of Hadlows peacocks, who parades on the lawn and from time to time emits a harsh, piercing cry. It startles everyone at first, but I can assure you he is quite harmless.’

  And just then the children heard the sound again, coming through an open window. Everyone laughed and all feelings of unease left them at once.

  ‘As for the bell — I only know that I haven’t heard it ring in my lifetime. Perhaps the wind —? I must confess, I have really no idea.’

  ‘Perhaps you would like to see your rooms now,’ put in Aunt Augusta. ‘I should like to ask you a great many questions about yourselves but I think they can wait until dinner. You will hear the gong when it is ready. Until then do consider the house your own and explore as much as you like.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Melissa. ‘I know I’m going to love being here. It’s so kind of you to have us.’

  ‘I can’t wait to look around,’ said Sebastian. ‘But how shall we find our rooms?’

  ‘Fandeagle, who has been here as long as I can remember and who is more of a friend than a servant, will show you the way,’ said Uncle Bertram. And just then the door opened and in came one whose appearance was so extraordinary that the children could hardly restrain themselves from staring.

  He was quite short and rather stout with long arms which poked out of the rough wool jacket, shapelessly enveloping his whole body. He was completely bald and the skin which stretched tightly over his dome-shaped skull and pointed features was greenish in colour and scaly. Melissa thought he was quite the strangest looking person she had ever seen.

  Aunt Augusta introduced Fandeagle to the children and he bowed to them with dignity. Then he beckoned to them with a horny forefinger and they followed him out of the room.

  He led them up the main staircase. Melissa looked at the paintings as she passed, with great curiosity, but it was too dark to see much. She made a mental note to examine them more closely in the morning when there would be a better light.

  The top of the stairs led into
a dark corridor which Fandeagle covered silently and with considerable speed.

  ‘He moves more like a cat than a human being,’ thought Melissa as she almost ran to keep up with him. ‘What a strange mixture of ugliness and grace.’

  Sebastian walked swiftly ahead, his loose collar flapping in his hand, turning over a vague idea in his mind. Was it just his imagination, or was there something strange about the house? Something strange and yet, to him, familiar. Why had the bell rung that day for the first time in a century? And yet his Uncle and Aunt had failed to hear it. Surely one would have to be stone deaf not to hear such a rumpus? Unless —

  At this point Fandeagle stopped abruptly and swung open a door in the wall.

  ‘Your bedroom, sir,’ he said in a voice which struck the children as being curiously high and sweet. ‘Yours, miss, leads off this one. Everything has been prepared for you. If you should need anything, I shall come.’

  And then he turned and set off rapidly down the corridor and was soon lost to sight.

  ‘I say,’ said Sebastian as soon as he was out of earshot, ‘what a strange fellow. Something very odd about him, isn’t there? You know I’ve been thinking —’

  ‘Oh, don’t let’s stand in this draughty corridor,’ said Melissa impatiently, ‘I want to see what my room’s like. There’s plenty of time to talk later. Come on.’

  She went in.

  ‘Oh, Sebastian look! A real four-poster.’

  Sebastian looked and had to admit that although he wasn’t very interested in furniture, it really was rather a good room. It was large and light and in the centre was a four-poster bed draped in blood-red velvet. In the centre of the bed cover there was a monogram in gold, with a small crown above the entwined letters. On a table by the wash-stand was an array of silver brushes and combs, all initialled, and on the wall opposite the bed was an enormous oil-painting. It was a warship, fully-rigged and keeling over against giant, angry waves. But the thing he liked best of all was standing by the window, pointing to the red sun: a large brass telescope.

  ‘Oh, Melissa, what a lark! We must stay up late tonight and have a look at the stars through this. I’ve always wanted to have a telescope!’