Silas and the Winterbottoms

by Stephen M. Giles

  Isabella Winterbottom would not steal silverware from her uncle! Would she?

  It was after midnight when Adele entered the narrow anteroom and stepped into the broom closet. She was still reeling from what she had witnessed at dinner. Isabella had stolen eighteenth-century silverware from the dining room! It did not make sense – after all, Isabella’s father was incredibly rich.

  Pushing on the back wall of the closet, Adele stepped over the message carved into the stone floor – Only in Darkness will you see the Light.

  A familiar excitement flooded through her every time she passed through the secret passageway and shut the bookcase behind her. She glanced around the towering shelves. Where should she begin her reading tonight?

  Glancing lazily at the rows of books, Adele was halfway down the aisle when her heart stopped. She covered her mouth, her face locked in a silent scream. Silas, his body bathed in shards of milky light, was staring at her. She stumbled, falling back.

  ‘Good evening,’ said Silas softly. ‘I see you have found the secret entrance.’

  Unable to speak and with nowhere to run, Adele got to her feet. Up ahead she heard something move, brushing the ground, but the floor was shrouded in darkness and she could not see what it was. Peering down she focused on the shadows – there were flecks of light, silvery and wet, moving towards her. A low snarl broke the silence. Thorn! He was creeping towards her in the darkness, like a beast hunting its prey.

  Taking a large step back, Adele hit the end of the bookcase and could go no further.

  Thorn let out a deep snarl and she heard his claws clicking on the floor.

  He was getting closer.

  ‘Uncle Silas!’ she yelled, shutting her eyes. Tremors ripped through her body and almost instinctively she jumped up, wedging her feet into the bookshelves. She began to climb.

  Silas tapped his fingers and Thorn fell silent. ‘Come down,’ said her uncle slowly. ‘Thorn feared you were an intruder. My guests do not usually make their entrance through secret passageways.’

  Adele’s legs turned to jelly and she fell back to the floor, tears flooding her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ was all she could think to say.

  ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ declared Silas, moving his chair towards her. ‘I am not angry with you, child.’

  Adele looked up and saw that Silas was holding out his hand. ‘Come,’ he whispered. ‘Do not be afraid.’

  She took his hand and his fingers closed around hers. They felt like icicles.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Silas warmly. ‘You see, there is no need to be frightened.’

  ‘At dinner tonight,’ said Adele, her voice shaking, ‘you were so angry with me.’

  ‘Nonsense, child. I was tired, that is all. I may not agree with some of your ideas but I admire your sense of vision.’ He licked his thin lips. ‘I know how much this library means to you.’

  Adele nodded eagerly.

  ‘And one day very soon it could be yours.’ He watched the young girl’s face and saw the idea take hold, filling her imagination and making her heart race. ‘You would like that, wouldn’t you, Adele?’

  ‘Very much, Uncle Silas.’

  ‘And you understand how important it is that the next owner of Sommerset possesses the necessary qualities to watch over it as I have?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Adele, trying hard to control her mounting excitement.

  ‘Good,’ said Silas crisply. ‘Then you will have no problem collecting a little intelligence for me.’

  ‘Intelligence?’

  ‘It is simple really: you will watch your cousins closely. I want to know what they think, what they say, and what they do – especially Milo.’

  Adele’s mouth fell open. ‘You want me to spy on them?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I want you to do.’

  ‘No, I couldn’t,’ said Adele, shaking her head. ‘I can’t spy on my own cousins!’

  ‘Should you agree to my request I would be most grateful. In fact, it would show me how serious you were about owning Sommerset one day.’

  ‘But Uncle …’ Tears welled in Adele’s eyes. ‘I can’t do it,’ she whispered.

  Silas nodded slowly. ‘I understand,’ he said gently. ‘The choice is yours, naturally. I’m just sorry that a girl with your great potential is going to end up in a place like Ratchet’s House.’

  Adele gasped. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Ratchet’s House,’ repeated Silas, savouring each word. ‘That is where you will be sent if you fail to secure my estate, isn’t it? They say no-one is ever the same once they’ve been in that place.’ He shook his head, clicking his tongue. ‘But I am sure you will adapt to a life without freedom … without your father … without your books.’

  Although she could not find the strength to speak, the bewildered look on her face said it all. How did Silas know about Ratchet’s House? How?

  ‘I know everything,’ said Silas softly, as if he had read her mind. ‘Did you think I would invite you to my home without first doing a little research? Come now, you are a clever girl.’

  Adele gasped. ‘You’ve known about Ratchet’s House from the beginning, haven’t you?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Silas smiled thinly. ‘I have found over the course of my life that the greatest treasure of all is information. You might say I am a collector. And because I know why you came here and what you want from me, I understand you very well. That is why I must urge you to give my offer careful thought. Your future could be glorious, Adele, but nothing in this world comes without a price … and you know mine.’ He leaned forward, the moonlight illuminating his ashen face. ‘The question is, are you willing to pay it?’

  Feeling a great weight pushing down on her shoulders, Adele needed every ounce of strength she had left to lift her head and look at Silas. She had to win her uncle’s trust if she had any hope of winning his estate. It was foolish of her to think she even had a choice.

  ‘All right,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll be your spy.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Silas, a brilliant smile sliding across his lips.

  DISCOVERY

  Dark clouds hung low over Sommerset and it rained for the next three days. As a result the children were largely confined to the house, unable to play in the gardens or ride the horses. Milo felt like he was going mad as he walked through the rooms of Sommerset House, longing to be outside so he could continue his investigation into Uncle Silas. Adele spent nearly all of the time bunkered down in the library occupied by her own troubles. And as for Isabella, she busied herself by barking orders at Hannah Spoon and doing just about anything to gain her uncle’s approval.

  This proved to be difficult as Silas had taken to his bed with a fever and severe chest pains. The slow-passing days at Sommerset came to an end one morning when the sun finally broke through the clouds. Isabella and Milo had a quick breakfast before heading outside. Only Adele remained at the breakfast table playing idly with a piece of toast. Ever since her secret meeting with Silas in the library she had been lost in a fog of confusion. She truly hated herself for agreeing to become her uncle’s spy – yet what choice did she have? It was either betray her cousins or risk being sent to Ratchet’s House for the next ten years.

  Mrs Hammer noticed Adele’s gloomy mood. Putting down a silver tray stacked with breakfast bowls, she pulled up a chair at the breakfast table.

  ‘Is everything all right, Miss Adele?’

  Adele looked closely at the housekeeper. She had kind eyes yet Adele could not get the eerie image of the cloaked figure from her mind. Who was it? And why were Mrs Hammer and Bingle hiding the stranger away?

  ‘Everything is fine, Mrs Hammer,’ said Adele. ‘Honestly.’

  Mrs Hammer smiled but she did not seem entirely convinced. ‘Well, if you’re sure.’

  Later, as Adele was leaving the breakfast room, she heard one of the serving maids whispering urgently to Mrs Hammer. What was wrong? Adele wondered. She dropped down on one knee, prete
nding to tie up her shoelaces, and heard the maid say something about a set of ivory dessert spoons.

  ‘Oh mercy!’ responded Mrs Hammer, clutching her chest. ‘Are you sure they’re gone? Have you looked everywhere?’

  ‘We have, Mrs Hammer,’ said the maid. ‘And that’s not all. Last night after dinner the silverware count was out by five pieces and this morning one of the butlers reported a set of porcelain figures missing from the music room.’

  Grabbing the serving maid by the arm, Mrs Hammer led her away from the door. ‘Do not repeat a word of this,’ she whispered. ‘If there is a thief working among us then I intend to find the guilty party before Mr Winterbottom ever hears a word of it. Is that clear?’

  She nodded. ‘I won’t say a word, Mrs Hammer.’

  While the two servants hastily cleared the breakfast table Adele slipped away unnoticed and headed straight for Isabella’s bedroom.

  Staring into the darkness her eyes roamed the area under her cousin’s bed. Nothing there apart from a few hair ribbons – certainly no sign of silverware or porcelain figures. Adele stood up and looked around the bedroom. She had searched high and low and found no trace of the missing items.

  Her nerves were tingling madly and her heart thumped. Spying did not come naturally to Adele and her hands trembled as she opened a blanket box.

  That Isabella was a thief still did not make any sense – yet Adele could not deny that she had witnessed her cousin stealing the silverware. But if that were true, then where was the evidence? On the verge of giving up, Adele went once more to the vast walk-in closet and searched the pockets of Isabella’s clothes.

  Nothing.

  Then she spotted one of Isabella’s beautiful winter coats on the floor beneath several pairs of boots. Aware that Isabella would probably yell at one of the maids if she found her coat lying on the ground she bent down and picked it up. A heavy weight inside the coat made a clinking sound as an array of items tumbled to the closet floor – the missing set of ivory spoons, silverware, the porcelain figures from the music room, a gold carriage clock, silver napkin rings …

  Adele stood there, stupefied – her cousin was a thief and, worse still, she was good at it!

  She gathered all of the objects and bundled them back into the coat. As she did her hand hit something hard in the left pocket. Looking inside she found several small leather-bound volumes from the library.

  Adele gasped as she recognised the books. They belonged to the collection of rare volumes stored in the row of glass cabinets on the ground floor. She recalled how interested her cousin had become when she heard how valuable the library’s collection was.

  Searching the other pockets she found books stuffed in every one – each book was a rare first edition and worth a sizable fortune.

  A growing anger gripped Adele. Stealing silverware and statues was bad enough, but how dare she steal books! Despite her fury, and with considerable difficulty, (for she longed to take them back to the library), Adele returned the books to the pockets of her cousin’s coat and packed it away into the far corner of the closet.

  Closing the door to her cousin’s bedroom, Adele set off for the library where she began to plan exactly how she would expose the thief of Sommerset.

  ‘Ow!’ shrieked Isabella, slapping Hannah Spoon’s hand away from her long black hair. ‘You’re pulling it!’

  ‘Sorry, miss,’ said Hannah, who had the rather thankless task of doing Isabella’s hair as the young lady relaxed in a secluded garden of pink and orange roses.

  ‘Well be careful,’ snapped Isabella. She sighed, running her fingers through the long silky strands of her hair. ‘It is not easy having beautiful hair, you know. You are so lucky, dear, that your hair is as stiff as a toilet brush – I am sure you don’t even need to comb it most of the time. What a relief that must be!’

  ‘Yes, miss, a great relief,’ Hannah said through gritted teeth.

  Milo was crossing the rose garden, looking for Moses, when he caught sight of his snooty cousin. He was about to escape through a break in the hedge when Isabella saw him and waved.

  ‘Hello, Milo,’ she said sweetly. ‘I hardly recognised you from so far away; you are so very tiny! Dear Cousin, I hope you are not upset about what I told Uncle Silas at dinner. I thought it was common knowledge that you hated him.’

  Clenching his fists into tight balls, Milo fought a strong impulse to pick up a bucket of fertiliser and dump it onto his cousin’s head. Instead he opted to do something which he felt sure would upset her even more.

  ‘Hello, Hannah,’ he said, smiling warmly at the young maid. ‘Have you done something different to your hair? You look very pretty today.’

  Hannah giggled. ‘Thank you, Master Milo.’

  Then Milo continued on his way, ignoring his cousin completely.

  A stony scowl set into Isabella’s face and she emitted a low grumbling sound.

  ‘Hurry up, girl!’ she snapped at Hannah. ‘And stop smiling, you look like a monkey!’

  Feeling rather pleased with himself, Milo headed for the orchard, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Moses or Knox.

  ‘Good morning, Milo.’

  Milo looked up. He flinched on seeing the hollow face staring back at him.

  ‘Hello, Uncle Silas.’

  He noted how frail Silas looked – his cheekbones raised sharply, his skin ashen and lifeless.

  ‘I have been looking for you,’ said Silas. ‘There’s something I’d like you to see.’

  ‘Actually I’m kind of busy at the moment.’

  ‘Whatever it is,’ said Silas, ‘I’m sure it can wait. Do follow me.’

  Reluctantly, Milo did as he was told. They crossed the piazza and entered a large greenhouse. Silas moved silently through the long steamy room, leading Milo out into a narrow courtyard with a solid metal door at the far end. He produced a large key from his pocket. The key slid into the barrel and turned, opening with a rusty clank.

  Inside was a simple garden surrounded by large stone pillars and high walls. Neat rows of flowers with the most enormous blooms Milo had ever seen ran along the sides, curving around a brass sundial in the centre.

  ‘You know a great deal about flowers, Milo,’ said Silas. ‘Tell me, what do you think these are?’

  Never one to shrink from a challenge, Milo took a closer look. They were incredible – a mass of blood red petals surrounding a luminous orange and yellow bulb which seemed to float in the middle like a water lantern. Each flower looked radiant, as if on fire. He smelled the perfume.

  ‘Recognise the scent?’ said Silas, smiling.

  ‘Yes,’ exclaimed Milo, leaning in and taking another deep breath. ‘It smells like gardenias … and lavender. But how?’

  ‘How indeed.’ Silas gave a satisfied grin. ‘Do you like the combination?’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

  ‘So, what do you think of the Phoenix Rose?’

  Milo recalled Moses telling him about the mysterious Phoenix Rose the day he arrived at Sommerset.

  ‘It’s not like any rose I’ve ever seen,’ he said.

  ‘Of course not. It was created right here by a leading scientist – an expert in genetic modification. It is one of a kind. Remarkable, don’t you think?’

  ‘Remarkable,’ agreed Milo, unable to hide his excitement. ‘Mrs Boobank would go crazy for this. Could I take a cutting?’

  Silas laughed. ‘The Phoenix Rose is a private pleasure,’ he said. ‘It is not for public consumption. You see, the roses in this garden will decorate my coffin.’

  ‘A flower this special should be shared,’ said Milo as he wandered down to the far end of the garden. ‘It seems selfish to keep it all to yourself.’

  ‘Well,’ said Silas, following after his nephew, ‘as the next heir of Sommerset you may do with them what you wish.’

  The words did not sink in straight away, but when they did Milo’s face grew pale.

  ‘Who, me?’

  Silas nodded. ‘Indeed.
I have given it a great deal of thought and I am going to leave my estate to you, Milo.’

  ‘Wait.’ Milo shook his head. ‘But I don’t want it.’

  ‘Ah, but you will in time,’ said Silas softly. ‘You see, I know that you would come to care for this place as deeply as I do. Your cousins do not have your soul, child. You know how important it is to protect what you love and keep it from harm. I truly believe that you and the maestro would be very happy here at Sommerset.’

  An uncomfortable feeling settled on Milo. His uncle’s words eased their way inside him and began to make real sense. It was as if Silas was casting a spell over the boy and he did not like the feeling one little bit.

  ‘If you love Sommerset so much, Uncle Silas,’ Milo told him, ‘then give it to someone who wants it – because I do not.’

  ‘Why not?’ snapped Silas, his calm manner slipping away. ‘I am offering you the world!’

  ‘Well, I don’t want your world!’

  ‘Then you are a fool!’

  ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Milo found himself crouching down in front of his uncle, looking deep into his dark eyes. ‘When my father asked you for help, begged you for help, what did you do? You sent us to live on top of a volcano!’

  ‘Milo, you must understand,’ said Silas defensively, ‘I was simply trying to be a good brother. Your father needed money and so I offered him a job. If I had known there was even a remote possibility that the volcano would erupt, well, I would never have suggested the idea.’

  ‘Liar!’ shouted Milo. ‘You were warned about the volcano! You couldn’t get anyone else to clear that land so you lied to my father and he believed you because my mother was sick and he was desperate.’ Milo felt the tears stinging his eyes. ‘It would have been so easy for you to lend my parents the little amount they needed. Instead, you sent them to their graves.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right, Milo,’ Silas said. ‘What happened on that peninsula, the devastation it wrought, has haunted me. Every day I think of your parents and wish that I had simply given your father the money he needed. The truth is, I have enjoyed great fortune in my life but I have not shared it.’