by Holly Webb
For Freya ~ HW
For Hugh and Judy with my love ~ ML
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
31 Albion Street, London
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Copyright
“Is that your new dress to wear for the wedding?” Maisie asked Alice, a little wistfully. They were in Alice’s bedroom, and she had just noticed the beautiful lace-trimmed blue silk dress hanging up on the front of Alice’s enormous wardrobe.
“Yes!” Alice bounced up and down excitedly in her pink velvet armchair. “I didn’t really need it, but Papa said I should look smart for Madame Lorimer’s special day. I went to her for French lessons for years, you know. I shall miss her, but I’m looking forward to the wedding. Especially as you’ll be there too, Maisie!”
Maisie nodded, but she didn’t say anything. The girls had met when Alice had started lessons with Madame Lorimer, who rented a room in Gran’s boarding house. Quite often, Madame dozed off in the middle of the lesson, and then Alice could sneak out and gossip with Maisie. Otherwise, the two girls would never have been friends – their lives were simply too different. Alice had French conversation, dancing classes and deportment, while Maisie learned how to cook and do laundry.
Alice frowned at Maisie. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you looking forward to the wedding?”
“Yes, of course I am. Especially as Professor Tobin is going to escort me and Gran home afterwards on the Underground. I’ve never been on it before.” Maisie folded the skirt of her old purple dress between her fingers. “But I haven’t got anything to wear.” She looked over at Alice, who stared back at her in surprise.
Maisie held back a sigh. Alice couldn’t possibly understand. She always had new dresses, lace-edged petticoats and handmade boots.
Gran’s boarding house was very respectable, but it didn’t bring in a lot of money. There certainly wasn’t enough for new dresses, even for wearing to a wedding. Madame Lorimer had rented the rooms on the second floor at 31 Albion Street for as long as Maisie could remember, but now she was getting married she’d be going to live in her husband’s big house in Richmond. Gran would have to find a new lodger and, until she did, money would be even tighter than usual.
“I only have this dress,” Maisie added, her cheeks flushing pink. She held out her faded skirts and looked sideways at Alice.
Alice nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a lovely colour,” she said, clearly trying to think of something nice to say.
“It was…” Maisie muttered.
“Why don’t you borrow one of mine!” Alice dashed back over to her wardrobe and flung open the doors.
Maisie caught hold of Eddie by the collar. He was a well behaved little dog – mostly – but he was even more nosy than Maisie was. He just liked investigating things. Interesting cupboards, particularly, in case there was food in them. She could see his ears pricking up already. “No, Eddie. It’s only clothes. You can’t go and get muddy pawprints on them.”
Alice giggled and pulled out the folds of a bright floral summer dress. “You could get muddy pawprints on this one, Eddie. My aunt sent it to me for my birthday, and it’s foul. But, Maisie, look. This dress would be perfect for a wedding.” She lifted out a pretty, pale green silk frock with a flounced skirt and little pearl buttons down the front.
Maisie’s eyes widened. She’d never worn a dress like that.
“It would suit you,” Alice said persuasively. “The colour would be so nice with your red hair, and it would match your green eyes.”
Maisie swallowed and dug her fingernails into her palms to help her stop imagining herself in the green silk dress, hobnobbing with all the grand folk at the wedding party. “I can’t, Alice. It’s a beautiful dress. But Gran wouldn’t let me borrow it. She … she’d say it wasn’t proper to go begging dresses off you. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“But you didn’t beg! I asked if you were excited about the wedding, that was all.” Alice frowned. “Would she really mind?”
Maisie nodded. “Gran’s very proud, Alice. She’d say it was charity and that we’ve never had to ask for anyone’s help.”
Alice looked at her doubtfully, but she pushed the green dress back into the wardrobe and shut the heavy doors – with difficulty, as the wardrobe was full to bursting.
Maisie stared at the pretty rug on the floor, embarrassed. “How’s your new governess?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
Alice made a face.
“Miss Darling’s not nice?” Maisie asked anxiously. She felt a little bit responsible. Alice’s father, Mr Lacey, knew about Maisie’s detective work and had actually employed her to inspect all the applicants for the job of governess. She’d had to pretend to be a maid doing the dusting, so she could spy on the ladies as they waited to be interviewed for the job. In the end, she had told Mr Lacey that she thought the best of the bunch was Miss Honoria Darling, who had helpfully moved her chair so Maisie could dust the large vase behind her, and had smiled at her very sweetly. All the rest of them had been grumpy. Alice’s father had paid Maisie a whole shilling. Now she was worried that she hadn’t deserved it.
“She’s too nice…” Alice sighed. “That’s the problem. Papa is smitten with her.”
“Oh no!” Maisie stared at Alice in horror. “I’m sorry!”
Alice’s father was a widower, and Alice definitely didn’t want him to get married again. She had read too many books about evil stepmothers, and she didn’t want one. So Alice had given Maisie a huge bag of toffees and asked her to look out for any sly governesses who might be angling to marry Mr Lacey.
“It isn’t your fault, Maisie. It isn’t her fault, either. She’s just … lovely. I ought to hate her, but I don’t, which just shows, doesn’t it?”
Someone tapped lightly on the door, and it started to open.
“That’ll be her, shh!”
“What if she recognizes me?” Maisie squeaked. “It’s too late to hide…”
Alice jumped up, snatched a brush and a ribbon from her dressing table, and started to fuss with Maisie’s hair, pulling it back from her face to make her look different.
“Good afternoon, Miss Darling. This is my friend, Maisie.”
The new governess stepped into the room and smiled. “Alice has told me all about you!” she said, sounding pleased to see Maisie. Unlike Alice’s old governess, Miss Sidebotham, who had always looked as though she thought Maisie smelled. “It was you that found dear Snowflake and her kittens, wasn’t it?”
Maisie nodded and watched as Eddie went over and sniffed suspiciously at Miss Darling’s shoes. “We had to take Snowflake and the kittens down to the kitchen. They don’t get on with Eddie.”
“No, I can imagine…” Miss Darling stooped down to let the dog sniff her fingers. “A great big strong fellow like you… You couldn’t leave a cat unchased, could you?”
Eddie licked at her fingers adoringly, and Maisie stared. He was friendly, but not usually that friendly.
“You see! Even Eddie thinks she’s wonderful,” Alice whispered in her ear. “Miss Darling, Maisie is going to the wedding tomorrow too. That’s why I was advising her on how to wear her hair,” Alice said, twisting Maisie’s hair into a coil at the back of her head. “But she doesn’t have a smart dress, and her grandmother won’t let her borrow one of mine…”
Miss Darling looked at Maisie thoughtfully, and Maisie went red again. It was bad enough that Alice knew she didn’t have anything to wear. But Miss Dar
ling nodded and said tactfully, “You’re taller than Alice, Maisie. I don’t think her frocks would suit you. But what about borrowing a collar? I’m sure your grandmother wouldn’t mind that.”
“Yes!” Alice jumped up and ran to her chest of drawers. “I have lots of lace collars, Maisie, can’t I lend you one of them?”
Maisie frowned. Surely Gran couldn’t mind just a collar?
Alice pulled out a pretty one, and Maisie stroked the lace admiringly. It would make the whole dress look different. Alice held it round her neck, and pushed her towards the mirror. “You see! So smart! You simply have to take it.” And she added in a whisper, “I told you! She’s nice, and she’s clever. I’m doomed…”
“Madame Lorimer looks lovely!” Maisie whispered to Alice. “Even in that horrible hat!”
“I think it’s quite a smart hat,” Alice said thoughtfully, staring at the mountain of pink and red feathers that Madame Lorimer was wearing.
Of course, they’d have to remember to call her Mrs Mossley now.
Maisie stared at her friend, and Alice giggled and reached out for another chocolate eclair. “Look at your face, Maisie! You’re right, it’s like she’s got a giant mushroom on her head. But she still looks nice. It’s lovely to see her so happy.” Alice licked chocolate off her fingers contentedly and nudged Maisie. “Which do you think is bigger? The hat or the cake?”
“Mmmm … the cake, but only just,” Maisie said. She had seen wedding cakes before, in the windows of smart baker’s shops. But never one as big as this. It was covered in flowers and pearls and swirls of icing. Maisie wasn’t sure how anyone was going to manage to cut it. She was very glad that Eddie hadn’t been invited – she didn’t want to imagine what he would do to a cake like that…
“I’m really not at all sure about this, Professor. The Underground…” Maisie’s gran hesitated outside Richmond station a couple of hours later, and clutched her little box of wedding cake nervously.
Professor Tobin patted Gran’s arm soothingly. “The Metropolitan Underground Railway has been running for many years now, Mrs Hitchins. And the track is above ground out here at Richmond. We’ll go into a tunnel part of the way through the journey, that’s all. We shall be at Baker Street station before you know it.”
“But going down underground, Professor, with all that earth on top of you! It just doesn’t seem right. And I remember when they were building it, you know, and the Fleet Sewer burst and flooded it. Who’s to say that won’t happen again?”
“The tunnels are all closed in now. I’m sure it’s safe,” the professor promised.
“Oh, I suppose so… And it will be quicker than the horse-tram. I am quite tired, after the wedding party.” Gran sighed doubtfully, but she took a step inside the tiny ticket hall, and Maisie beamed at the professor. She had never been on the Underground, either, and she was desperate to see what it was like.
Mr Mossley had laid on horse-drawn carriages to take his guests out to his Richmond house after the ceremony, but it was up to them to get themselves home. Professor Tobin had suggested they travel back by Underground. He had been quite shocked to hear that Maisie and Gran had never even been into one of the stations.
“Now, we buy our tickets here,” he explained, ushering Gran over to the ticket window. “No, no, my treat, Mrs Hitchins.” He jingled through his pockets, searching for change. “There we are, sixpence for all of us, to Baker Street, please, young man.”
The railway clerk pushed the little card tickets through the slot, and the professor guided them down the steps to the platform, which was practically deserted in the middle of the afternoon. A very tall man in tattered working clothes was pacing to and fro at the other end of the platform, swinging a grubby toolbag, and there were a couple of smartly dressed ladies sitting on one of the benches, but that was all.
Maisie was glad that Richmond station was at ground level – she found the idea of climbing down under the earth rather frightening too. Of course, they would be underground by the time they got to Baker Street, but going up out into the open air seemed less strange.
“Why, it looks just like a normal steam train!” Gran said in surprise, as the train creaked to a halt in front of them a few minutes later.
Maisie nodded. She had travelled to the countryside with Alice a few weeks before. This train was almost the same as the one they had taken from Paddington, just a little smaller. She wasn’t quite sure what she had expected. Something that looked safer for travelling along tunnels cut deep through the earth? Something with armour-plating, perhaps. The little carriages were neatly painted, though rather dusty, but they didn’t look as though they would be much protection against falling rocks…
The professor politely held open the door of an empty compartment in the second-class carriage, and Maisie stepped inside. The velveteen seats were grimy, but there was a gas-lamp, flickering on the wall. Maisie gave a little sigh of relief – she had been worried that the journey would be in the dark.
They sat down and Gran clutched Maisie’s hand tightly as the engine wheezed and clanked away, clouds of smoke and steam puffing past the windows.
“Where does all that smoke go when we’re in the tunnel?” Maisie asked the professor curiously.
He sighed. “Most of it stays in the tunnel, Maisie. There are vents, of course, but even those are a problem. They belch out steam and frighten the horses on the road up above. I must admit, the atmosphere in the tunnels is somewhat thick…”
Gran glared at him, her eyes bulging a little. “So now we’re to be suffocated? Oh, I knew we should have gone by the horse-tram!” Then she let out a little squeal as the train dived into a tunnel, puffing and blowing like an angry troll, and the view of the grassy cutting was swallowed up in darkness.
It’s very eerie, Maisie thought, as she stared out at the blackness. It was more than just an absence of light – more like a thick black fog swirling around the carriage. Maisie wasn’t usually afraid of the dark, but she shuddered as she imagined what might be hiding out there in all that black space beyond the windows.
The gas-lamp flickered more than ever and the professor looked worried. He clearly thought that Gran was about to faint. “Here, Mrs Hitchins, someone has left a newspaper. Perhaps you could read to calm your nerves?”
Gran unfolded the newspaper with shaking fingers and began to read the front page. Maisie peered over her shoulder – she felt like being distracted too. “Oh! Gilbert Carrington!” she exclaimed, seeing a familiar name leap out at her.
“The detective?” Professor Tobin asked. “Has he solved another case?”
“No…” Maisie murmured, skimming the dense print. “No, he’s in New York.” She sighed. Gilbert Carrington lived in Laurence Road, very close to Maisie’s house. In fact, they would walk past his house on their way home from Baker Street station. He was the most famous detective in the world, and Maisie had studied his methods. She had even seen him in person a couple of times, dashing into a cab outside his house, obviously on the trail of a criminal.
“He’s still investigating that murder, you know,” Maisie reminded Professor Tobin. “The one with the odd messages left in the tree outside the victim’s window. Mr Carrington solved the code, but the murderer fled to America. All it says here is that he’s in New York now and that the police have just consulted him by telegram about a case.” She glanced up at the headline. “ART THIEVES STILL AT LARGE. Oh, it’s that Sparrow Gang! They’ve stolen another painting, and in broad daylight again. George, the butcher’s boy, told me Charlie Sparrow’s seven-foot tall, and that he’s killed people! Two of his gang double-crossed him, so he chopped them up into bits!”
“Don’t listen to errand boys’ gossip, Maisie. It says here that the police think the thieves are popping up out of the sewers,” Gran said, shuddering. “Disgusting.”
“I suppose the sewers do go everywhere,” Maisie said thoughtfully. “And the Underground tunnels too,” she added, as they pulled into a brightly lit
station. The walls were papered with colourful advertising posters, and a few more travellers climbed in further down the train.
“Exactly!” Gran snapped. “There are probably all sorts of disgusting things leaking into this tunnel from the sewers.”
“Not much longer now, dear lady,” the professor assured her. “Ah! Baker Street is the next stop,” he added. “Gather your things, Mrs Hitchins, the trains don’t wait for very long.”
But just then the train ploughed to a halt in the middle of the tunnel, with a sharp squeal of brakes.
“I knew it! I knew it!” Gran cried. “There’s been a crash. We’re doomed!”
Maisie jumped up and lowered the little window, peering cautiously out into the tunnel. She could hear people fussing and calling, so she leaned out and shouted, “Why have we stopped? Has there been an accident?”
“Lady collapsed!” someone called from further up the train. “Fainted dead away, poor dear. We’ll be moving shortly. Someone pulled the emergency cord.”
“I’m not surprised,” Gran said, between coughs. “Shut that window, Maisie! You’re letting in all those poisonous fumes!”
Gran was still coughing when they pulled into Baker Street station a few minutes later. She leaned heavily on Professor Tobin’s arm as he led them off the train and over to the lift. Maisie saw the lady who’d fainted on the train being helped by the station staff, who fussed over her while other passengers offered advice. She had a hat that was nearly as huge as Madame Lorimer’s.
They stepped into the lift. Maisie squealed as it lurched suddenly upwards and her stomach seemed to stay behind. Gran let out a horrified groan and pressed her handkerchief to her face. “It isn’t natural,” she moaned, as she tottered out into the ticket hall. “It shouldn’t be allowed.” Then she went into another spasm of coughing, so loud that one of the ticket clerks hurried over, looking worried.
