by Tim Hehir
Julius ran along Ironmonger Lane clutching the letter. He wondered if Mr Flynn and the constables had found any sign of Tock. He would know very soon. Snow fell, carpeting the cobblestones in white. He took a shortcut through an alleyway to King Street, then to Laurence Street. In Honey Lane he saw one of the younger boys from school.
‘Hey, you,’ he called out.
After handing over a sixpence and a quick instruction to slip the letter under the headmaster’s door, Julius raced to Blackfriars Bridge.
The sleet turned to an icy drizzle as he ran. Every hansom cab was occupied. At Albion Place he saw a young clerk springing out of one. And before the clerk could reach up to pay the driver Julius had leapt into the seat.
‘Walworth House, please,’ he called out.
He did not have a cane to knock on the roof so he stamped his foot instead. He pulled the blanket over his knees and waited for the driver to whip the horse into action. Nothing happened.
‘Walworth House, quickly, please.’
‘Show me your money first,’ came the reply from the roof. ‘I’ve been done by young whippersnappers like you before.’
This is bloody marvellous, Higgins.
Julius fought the coins out of his pocket then leaned out to show the handful of shillings his grandfather had given him.
‘There,’ he said.
‘Very good,’ said the driver. ‘Get on,’ he called to the horse and whisked the whip across her rump.
Julius sat back as the hansom cab lurched forward.
Half an hour and you’ll be there, Higgins.
Three quarters of an hour later the hansom cab passed the Surrey Zoological Gardens. The gates were closed, but Julius leaned out to see if he Mr Flynn was still there. He caught a glimpse of a police constable standing guard just inside the gate but nothing else.
You’ll be back there in ten minutes, Higgins. Just give the invitation to Clara and run back to see what’s happening.
At the back of Walworth House Julius leapt out of the hansom cab and paid the driver. Snow lay across the grounds and on the trees and windowsills of the mansion. Julius ran to the stable yard and down the stairs. He knocked on the door. No one came, no matter how loudly he knocked. Then he remembered the long corridor and the chaos in the kitchen. If he fired a cannon at the back door no one would hear.
Gingerly he turned the doorknob. It gave way. He opened the door a little.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Hello.’
No reply came, only the sounds of kitchen bustle at the end of the corridor. He went in. The kitchen was as he remembered it—mayhem and commotion. No one paid him any mind.
Everything was being chopped, hacked, pummelled, pulled, whisked and burned by a frantic army of small children and fat women.
‘Wot you doing here?’ called out a cook with sweat pouring down her face.
‘I’m looking for Clara Higgins, the new under-housekeeper.’
‘Under-wot?’
‘Housekeeper.’
‘Don’t know nothing about that. Housekeeping’s above stairs,’ she said, with a disapproving sniff, and then returned to her work of hacking meat from a large bone.
Julius ran to the door leading up to the main house. At the top of the stairs he opened the door just a slit. The corridor was silent. He opened it a little more and peered up and down.
He recognised the odour of wild animals but there were none to be seen. He hurried along the corridor, wondering what the punishment would be if he went before the magistrate for trespassing in a lord’s house. At a door, he stopped and listened. There was someone inside. Could it be a servant perhaps? Could it be Clara?
He poked his head inside.
The walls of the sitting room were lined with landscapes, and overstuffed chairs and couches filled the floor space. Sitting on the chairs was a family of orangutans. They all turned to look at Julius with bored stares.
‘Sorry,’ said Julius, and closed the door.
He had an idea. He could leave a note in Clara’s room inviting her to tea. Julius tried to recall how he and Emily had got there the last time he visited.
It was up some stairs, Higgins. Back stairs. It was dark. Mama carried a lamp.
He went back to the corridor outside the kitchen. From there he retraced their route up the backstairs he had climbed with Clara and Emily.
At the attic corridor he looked at the doors on each wall. Clara’s was the third one along, he was sure of it. He turned the handle and it creaked open. The room was empty but for a steel bed frame without a mattress.
He walked to the window and looked out at the snow-capped Animal House. Where was Clara?
Out in the corridor a floorboard groaned. Julius started.
A flock of hummingbirds flew in, followed by Lord Bloomingbury. He stared at Julius in astonishment.
‘I thought I saw someone skulking about up here,’ he said. Then he squinted a little. ‘You’re that boy—the armadillo handler.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What are you doing here?’ said Lord Bloomingbury.
‘I…that is…er…I have an important message for Miss Higgins.’
‘Miss Higgins? I thought you barely knew the woman,’ said Lord Bloomingbury. ‘And now I find you running messages for her. What are you up to, sneaking around my house?’
‘Nothing, sir,’ said Julius. ‘I really need to speak to her. I have to tell her something.’ Julius looked at the bed frame. ‘Where did she go?’
Lord Bloomingbury looked at the bed too.
‘Go?’ he said. ‘I haven’t the foggiest notion. I’m not in the habit of charting the movements of my servants.’
‘No, of course not, sir,’ said Julius. ‘It’s…it’s just that I must get a message to her.’
‘Perhaps she left?’ said Lord Bloomingbury. ‘Perhaps she didn’t take to my pets?’
Julius looked at Lord Bloomingbury. There was something wrong in his tone. He was not as good a liar as Emily—no one was as good as her. But why was he lying? He had been so accommodating the night before.
Julius tried to disguise his concern with a mask of befuddlement.
Lord Bloomingbury had been rather vexed when he thought Clara had a family. But then he was so pleased to hear Emily’s lie about them just being neighbours. And he believed Emily when she said no one knew where they were. Julius remembered His Lordship’s smile when she said it. Something had changed. He had made a joke about adding Emily to his collection, and there was something else—something about collecting unique specimens.
Did he want to collect you, Higgins? For what?
Julius looked out the window at the Animal House, trying to look simple-minded.
He pictured Lord Bloomingbury opening that secret door and the rank odour coming through. His Lordship had wanted to get them down there. Why? It was only the stench and Clara’s embarrassment at Emily’s behaviour that had stopped them. Julius remembered the disappointment in Lord Bloomingbury’s face before he said goodbye. His quarry had gotten away.
What was on the other side of the door?
Julius smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps you’re right, sir,’ he said. ‘It is rather odd having so many animals. We just have a cat.’ He edged past Lord Bloomingbury. ‘Oh, well. I’d best be off to school. Goodbye, sir.’
Julius walked towards the stairs, with an attempt at a carefree stride. How many footmen could His Lordship call down on him if he raised the alarm?
‘Just a moment,’ said Lord Bloomingbury.
Julius turned.
‘What was the message?’ he asked. ‘If I see her I could pass it on.’
‘It’s nothing, sir. It wasn’t important,’ said Julius.
Julius and Lord Bloomingbury looked at one another. Each knew the other was lying, but neither knew why.
Suddenly Julius was not afraid anymore. What was one old man after all he had been through? Even if he was a lord?
‘If you’ve harmed Clara you’l
l be sorry,’ said Julius.
Lord Bloomingbury’s expression shifted. The kindly mask of confusion was gone, and in its place was a stare cold enough to freeze fire.
‘I have never been sorry in my life,’ he said. ‘But you will be. You shall hang for that remark.’ He came closer. His eyes fixed on Julius as if was about to strike.
Julius realised he had made a terrible mistake.
CHAPTER 24
Monday 22nd January 1838
10:34 AM
Julius ran down the stairs and fell into the corridor outside the kitchen tumbling across the floor and out the door. He sprinted out of the stable yard and only stopped in the parklands, when he was sure he was not being chased. Everything was white and still and silent. The snow began to fall, cascading dots of white, matching the white mist from his heavy breaths.
He had got it all wrong.
Tock said the ‘house of animals’, Higgins. Not the ‘Animal House’.
Lord Bloomingbury was hiding Tock in his vast house of animals. Was Tock going to give him a soulcatcher in exchange? Was Clara going to be the host—a servant with no family?
Julius ran to the Surrey Zoological Gardens. At the ticket booth he paid his shilling and bolted to the Animal House. There was a chain across the door with a sign saying ‘Closed for maintenance’. Julius ducked under it and burst through the door. It was full of constables.
‘It’s not the Animal House,’ he blurted out. ‘It’s the “house of animals”—Tock’s hiding in Lord Bloomingbury’s house.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Abberline.
‘I went there to invite my mother home for tea,’ said Julius. ‘But she wasn’t there. Lord Bloomingbury’s kidnapped her. He’s going let a soulcatcher seed her, if he hasn’t already.’
‘Julius, slow down,’ said a steady voice.
Julius spun around to see Mr Flynn and Darwin. ‘Tock’s hiding at in Walworth House,’ he said. ‘He has Clara.’
‘That’s impossible,’ said Darwin. ‘His Lordship knows how dangerous the soulcatcher is. I’ve discussed my theories with him a dozen times. He’s seen what the soulcatcher did to Skinner.’
‘Bloomingbury’s the Governor of Bedlam. He could have been the one who got the soulcatcher cuttings from Skinner and gave them to Tock,’ said Julius.
‘It can’t be,’ said Darwin. ‘The man’s beyond reproach. He’s President of the Royal Society and countless other boards and charities, for goodness sake. He’s the confidential advisor to the Queen and—’
‘That’s just it,’ said Julius. ‘No one would suspect him. No one would search his house.’
‘You’re right about that,’ said Abberline. ‘If anyone’s above the law it’s Lord “High and Mighty” Bloomingbury.’
‘But Mama’s somewhere in Walworth House,’ said Julius. ‘You could search his house on suspicion of—’
‘There’s certain people a constable knows not to interfere with,’ said Abberline. He hung his head. ‘And His Lordship is top of the list.’
‘It’s the boy’s mother, we’re talking about, Abberline,’ said Mr Flynn.
‘I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do,’ he said.
Julius turned to Darwin. There was no time to argue with Abberline. ‘You and Mrs Trevelyan will call on Bloomingbury.’
‘Why would we do that?’ said Darwin.
‘To keep him occupied,’ said Julius. ‘While Mr Flynn and I search the house.’
‘Good idea,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘I’ll send a cabbie to the academy with a note for her.’
A hansom cab came to a halt at the end of Kennington Road and Mrs Trevelyan climbed out waving her umbrella in greeting. The snow had stopped but the crispness of the air made her cheeks glow.
‘Mrs Trevelyan,’ said Mr Flynn.
‘Mr Flynn,’ she replied, as Emily climbed out behind her.
‘Thank you for coming,’ said Mr Flynn.
‘Say nothing of it, Mr Flynn,’ she said. Her white teeth sparkled as she smiled. ‘If poor Clara is in difficulties I will play my part. You can be sure of that.’
‘I’m ’ere too, Mr Flynn,’ said Emily.
‘No, Emily, we’ll take care of this,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘Go back to the academy and wait for us.’
‘But I—’
‘Now, Emily,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘Do as I say. Take the cab home. That’s my final word on the matter.’
Emily’s chin quivered with indignation.
‘Let her come, Mr Flynn,’ said Julius. ‘She loves Clara.’
Mr Flynn peered down at Julius. He was by met by something unshakable in Julius’s eyes.
‘Er…hmm…very well,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘Don’t make me regret it, Emily.’
‘You won’t, Mr Flynn,’ she said.
But he and Darwin were already striding for the cover of some fir trees. Mrs Trevelyan picked up her skirts and followed.
Julius waited for Emily to thank him.
‘I suppose you fink we’re even now?’ she said.
‘I’m sorry, Emily,’ said Julius. ‘I didn’t mean what I said last night.’
Emily let out an exaggerated sigh and marched away through the snow, treading in Mrs Trevelyan’s footprints.
‘All right, all right,’ she said. ‘Don’t go all soppy, ’iggins. It weren’t naffing to begin wiv.’
Julius ran after her. He wished he could give her a hug.
Mrs Trevelyan nestled close to Mr Flynn in the cold as he pointed to the grand entrance of Walworth House and explained the plan.
‘Call at the front door,’ he said. ‘Ask for His Lordship and don’t take any refusals. Demand to speak to him if you have to. Keep him talking while we search the house.’
‘I’ll tell him I wish to take my girls to see his menagerie,’ she said. ‘Mr Darwin can introduce me to him.’ She pecked a kiss on Mr Flynn’s cheek, and took Darwin’s arm. ‘Come, noble knight. Lead us into battle,’ she said.
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Darwin, and they scrunched through the snow to the front door.
Julius, Emily and Mr Flynn went in through the back door and up the stairs.
The corridor was empty.
Julius, Emily and Mr Flynn listened. Far away, wings flapped and something squawked. Emily flicked her head to the side and stepped out onto the thick carpet. She put her ear to the first door. Julius did the same. There were sounds from within. Emily opened the door a crack. A scratchy chattering noise seeped out.
‘It’s upside-down fings,’ whispered Emily.
Julius looked around the door. The room was full of bats the size of cats. They were hanging from the chandelier and the tops of the picture frames. Every so often one of them twitched or wiggled as if dreaming bat dreams. The furniture and carpet was covered in guano.
Each of the rooms they looked in contained at least one species of mammal, bird or reptile. At one of the doors near the grand entrance Emily listened longer than usual.
‘Mrs Trevelyan’s in there,’ she whispered. ‘She’s talking up a storm.’
‘Is Bloomingbury there too?’ whispered Julius.
‘Yeah. She’s asking ’im all about animals and fair flirting the ears off the old geeza.’
Julius, Emily and Mr Flynn climbed the central staircase where squirrel-sized monkeys played nervously while a python watched.
At the library, they stopped. ‘There’s someone moving around in there,’ Emily whispered.
‘Clara?’ said Julius.
‘I don’t know,’ said Emily. ‘It sounds like pages of a book crackling when they’re being turned.’
Julius reached out to turn the handle.
‘Wait,’ whispered Mr Flynn. ‘I’ll go first.’
He straightened his top hat and opened the door.
Julius rushed in after him but stopped when he saw Edward Rapple sitting on a chair, trying to prise the armadillo out of its ball. Benjamin Baines was standing at the table, examining the large books with a magnifying glass. Parr
ots squawked from the chandelier above. Both men stared at Mr Flynn, their still-bruised and swollen faces frozen in astonishment.
‘I didn’t know that you were interested in flora and fauna,’ said Mr Flynn.
‘Always keen to expand my horizons, Mr Flynn,’ said Baines, trying to disguise his surprise. ‘We are planning a little trip, as it happens.’
Rapple pushed the armadillo off his lap. It bounced across the carpet, still in a ball, and Rapple’s hand casually rose to the opening in his brown overcoat.
‘Let’s cut through the preliminaries, gentlemen,’ said Mr Flynn.
‘I’m not sure I follow,’ said Baines. His hand hovered over his side pocket.
‘You can tell us where Tock is,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘Or I can throw you both out the window. I’d prefer not to exert myself, if it’s all the same to you.’
‘And we wouldn’t wish you to, would we, Mr Rapple.’ said Baines.
‘No. We wouldn’t want it on our conscience, would we, Mr Baines.’ said Rapple. ‘I have enough trouble sleeping as it is.’
Rapple’s fingers disappeared into the folds of his overcoat as a door opened.
Mr Tock walked in. ‘Nearly ready for—’ He stopped and his broad smile turned into a gape when he saw Mr Flynn, Julius and Emily. He hastily closed the door behind him.
It took him barely half a second to collect himself.
‘Why, it’s our young friends…and Charlie,’ he said. ‘Is it? Is it?’
Mr Flynn flicked a warning look at Rapple whose hand stopped halfway into his coat.
‘You are full of surprises. You are. You are,’ said Tock to Julius. ‘You must tell me what you did with Abigail’s claw. We can’t find it anywhere.’
‘Shut up and listen, Tock,’ said Mr Flynn. ‘We’ve come for Clara Higgins. Hand her over now, or I’ll pull your head off and throw it out the window.’
‘Dear me,’ said Tock. ‘You’re a forthright fellow, aren’t you? Aren’t you?’ He turned to Rapple and Baines, his smile closing into a stern slit. ‘Mr Rapple. Mr Baines. Get rid of these people once and for all,’ he said. ‘All of them.’
‘Yes, Mr Tock, sir,’ said Baines. ‘Right away, sir.’
