The Midnight Peacock (The Sinclair’s Mysteries)

by Katherine Woodfine

  But Leo shook her head. ‘Great-Aunt Selina never brings a lady’s maid with her when she comes to Winter Hall. It’s another way for her to show Father how dreadfully poor she is.’

  ‘What about Lady Tremayne?’

  Tilly shook her head. ‘She usually brings her maid with her but she didn’t this time. Our head housemaid Emma has been looking after her.’

  Lil, who had been jotting down the names of the possible suspects, now paused suddenly. ‘We’ve been assuming this is about theft – but what if it isn’t that at all? Why else might someone want to creep about in the East Wing at night?’

  ‘To talk secretly to someone?’ offered Leo.

  ‘To hide something?’ volunteered Tilly. ‘Something they didn’t want anyone to find?’

  ‘Could it be something as ordinary as . . . a tramp coming in at night, looking for somewhere warm to sleep?’ suggested Jack.

  Tilly shook her head. ‘It can’t be anyone coming in from outside. Not at night, anyway. Mr Stokes always locks the house up after dinner. There’s no windows left open at this time of the year, and there’s been no sign of any breakin – so it must be someone from inside the house.’

  ‘Besides, it isn’t like London here,’ added Leo. ‘Someone like that passing through the area would be allowed to sleep in one of the farmer’s barns. There wouldn’t be any need to go creeping about.’

  ‘And there were no signs of anyone hiding out there,’ Sophie reminded them. ‘Well – except for that matchbox you found, Tilly.’

  ‘Are you quite sure that you didn’t notice anything else peculiar – or different?’ Lil quizzed her. ‘Or anything missing?’

  Tilly frowned. ‘No,’ she said, but then she admitted: ‘I wasn’t really looking for missing things. And there are so many old things in the East Wing that I’m not certain I’d notice if something was gone.’

  Lil snapped the notebook shut and got to her feet in a businesslike manner. ‘Well, in that case – why don’t we all go and have a look now?’

  Tilly and Leo led the way: down the stairs, along several passageways, and finally through the door that led into the East Wing. It was easy to see that this was the oldest part of the house, Sophie thought: the ceilings were lower, and the stone-flagged floor was wobbly and uneven in places. What was more, it felt very empty – as though no one had lived in this part of the house for a long time.

  Leo pointed out the Queen’s Bedchamber with the big, carved wooden bed. Peeping inside, Sophie could see that the room was crammed with old furniture, and dozens of paintings and curious objects. She could see now what Tilly had meant when she had said it would be difficult to be certain if anything was missing.

  Back in the passageway, she asked Tilly to pinpoint exactly where she had seen the ‘ghost’. Tilly pointed to a spot about halfway along the passage. ‘I was just about here,’ she said. ‘The figure came towards me, moving quite slowly. Then my candle went out.’

  ‘Do you know which direction it came from? Out of one of these rooms to the side, perhaps?’

  Tilly frowned. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It came from directly ahead of me.’

  ‘So most likely from the room at the very end of the passage?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so – and it was just beside the door that I found the matchbox,’ said Tilly, indicating the place.

  Sophie went through into the room at the end of the corridor, the others close at her heels. She felt the tingle of excitement she always experienced when a puzzle was being laid out before her. A quick glance around the room revealed an old cabinet filled with silver and china, several chairs, a side table, and a tapestry footstool. The stone floor was partially covered with a large rug, worked with a pattern of flowers. But the most noticeable thing about the room was the fireplace, which was surrounded by a large and very beautiful carved chimney-piece in three panels. Two of the panels were decorated with a pretty design of intertwining vines, leaves and fruit, whilst the central panel showed a splendid tree, with birds perched upon its branches. The paintwork had once been brightly coloured, and richly gilded, but it was fading now, and the gold decorations had lost their sparkle.

  ‘How beautiful,’ said Jack in admiration.

  ‘This room is supposed to have been Walsingham’s private study,’ Leo explained. ‘He commissioned this chimney-piece himself.’

  ‘It’s rather like the mosaic on the floor of the folly,’ said Lil.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Leo. ‘Supposedly Henry Fitzgerald took the idea for the design from this old chimney-piece.’

  Sophie stepped forward to examine the birds perching in the tree: an eagle, an owl, a pheasant. There was even a little brown sparrow perched on a top branch. She ran her finger thoughtfully along the top of the bare mantelshelf. It came away thick with grey dust.

  Tilly looked disconcerted. ‘Mrs Dawes would have a fit if she saw that. P’raps I ought to fetch a duster?’

  ‘Don’t do that,’ said Sophie. ‘Not yet anyway. The dust is useful. Look . . .’

  She pointed to the floor beside the fireplace. Beside the edge of the rug, on the stone floor, the shape of a footprint could be seen in the dust. Only the front part of the foot was visible – the heel was indistinct – but it was enough to see that it had been made by a large foot.

  ‘That’s got to be a man’s footprint – surely?’ exclaimed Jack.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Lil, bending down. ‘It’s a bit bigger than mine – but not much.’ She stretched out her own foot for comparison, and Jack was forced to agree that it could possibly be the footmark of a tall woman wearing a stout shoe. He carefully outlined the shape of it in his sketchbook, whilst Tilly and Leo scouted around, looking for any more footprints, and Lil began examining the objects on the side table – a jumble of marquetry boxes, bronze ink stands, china figurines and ornate clocks.

  Sophie stayed where she was beside the fireplace. There was something odd about it. Apart from anything else, it seemed rather strange that the mantelshelf had been left completely bare, whilst the side table and cabinet were crammed with trinkets. She examined the chimney-piece once again, tracing the sweeping shape of a tree branch, outlined in peeling gilt paint. Glancing down at her fingertips, she saw that they were quite clean.

  ‘The chimney-piece isn’t dusty,’ she said aloud.

  Tilly came over to look. ‘How queer,’ she said in surprise. ‘The central panel has hardly a speck of dust on it!’

  ‘Do you suppose one of the maids has been here?’ suggested Leo.

  Tilly shook her head. ‘Lizzie didn’t get this far – remember? I found the duster she’d dropped back there, along the passage.’

  Sophie was still examining the chimney-piece. She had noticed that the picture of the owl appeared to be slightly raised. She felt its curved shape with the tip of a finger, and almost without thinking, pressed it gently. It clicked: there was a sudden loud whirring sound, like cogs turning; and then a heavy clunk.

  ‘Oh golly!’ exclaimed Lil.

  Before their very eyes, the central panel of the chimney-piece had swung open like a door. Beyond it was darkness, a chill draught of air swept into the room, bringing with it a dank smell.

  Sophie turned to stare at the others. ‘It’s a secret door!’ she said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Even Leo was astounded. ‘I thought I knew every hidden door and passage in Winter Hall,’ she said, staring into the dark space beyond. ‘But I had no idea about this one!’

  Lil fetched the footstool, and pulling it towards the fireplace, clambered up to get a better look inside. ‘I say – I can see some stone steps going down!’ she exclaimed. ‘A secret staircase!’

  ‘I wonder where it leads?’ said Jack excitedly.

  ‘Can’t you guess?’ said Lil. She looked around at the others eagerly. ‘Surely the passage must connect the East Wing to the old folly in the grounds? It can’t be a coincidence that it’s exactly the same design
as the mosaic. Maybe there’s a hidden entrance there too? And that means there could be a secret way into the house from the outside!’

  ‘Heavens!’ exclaimed Leo. ‘So that means the ghost could be someone who has been using the secret passage as a way to creep into the house – not someone from inside the house at all!’

  ‘Yes – and if they were creeping along that passage, they’d need a lamp or candle, wouldn’t they? That could explain the matchbox – and maybe the lights that Jamie said he saw floating, high up,’ said Tilly. ‘After all, if someone was coming through that door up there with a lantern, it might look like a floating light!’

  ‘What’s more, it makes sense of the cold feeling you and Lizzie both experienced,’ Sophie added. ‘We can all feel it now, can’t we? There’s a cold draught blowing along the passageway – so when the panel is opened, you feel a sudden whoosh of ice-cold air.’

  ‘Of course!’ Tilly exclaimed. ‘Terrible chill indeed,’ she muttered, half to herself.

  ‘Well come on, then,’ said Lil, dancing from one foot to another in anticipation, ‘We are going to explore the passage, aren’t we?’

  But at that moment there came the clang of a gong somewhere in the house.

  ‘Time for tea,’ said Leo. ‘We can’t miss it – or we’ll be in frightful trouble with Mother.’

  Lil climbed sadly off the footstool. ‘I never thought I’d say this,’ she murmured. ‘But I rather think that in this house there are just too many meals.’

  For the rest of Christmas Eve, they were kept very busy indeed. There was afternoon tea, with Cook’s mince pies, the lighting of the candles on the Christmas tree, dressing for dinner, drinks in the Drawing Room, the long meal itself, and finally brandy, cigars and billiards for the gentlemen, and coffee and bridge for the ladies. Sophie and Lil did not know how to play bridge and were rather glad to be able to excuse themselves. Lil whispered that perhaps they could go and take another look at the secret passage, but Sophie shook her head. It was late, and exploring could wait. For now, they slipped up to Sophie’s room to discuss the mystery of the ghost.

  ‘I still think it all has something to do with the house party,’ mused Lil, sitting cross-legged on Sophie’s bed in her nightgown, her hair in two long plaits. She had announced that she was definitely not sleeping in her own room tonight (‘I know perfectly well that there are no such things as ghosts, but I don’t like it in there all by myself’) and now her brow was furrowed, as she sat, trying to make sense of what they had discovered. ‘Great-Aunt Selina and Vincent are still our best suspects. But if it is one of them, I don’t really understand why they’d bother sneaking through a secret entrance.’

  Sophie was brushing her hair at the dressing table. Now she put down the brush and turned to face Lil. ‘That’s right. Why go to all that trouble – when they could just go into the East Wing in the ordinary way?’

  ‘Unless they’re using the secret door to smuggle away the stolen goods, perhaps?’

  Sophie nodded, thinking it was going to be rather difficult – and uncomfortable – if they really did discover that one of Leo’s relations was stealing valuables from Winter Hall. Yet at the same time, she was glad to have a mystery to occupy her. It was a good distraction from thinking about Colonel Fairley.

  ‘Well – there’s one way we could try and find out what’s really going on,’ Lil said speculatively. ‘We could lie in wait for the ghost ourselves. We know from Tilly’s notes that the ghost has appeared almost every evening at sometime between 8.30 p.m. and midnight. So, perhaps we could lurk somewhere nearby after dinner – and then catch them in the act!’

  ‘That’s an idea! They may not turn up, of course – but if they do, we’ll know for sure who the ghost really is.’

  ‘Let’s talk to the others about it in the morning.’ Lil yawned. ‘I say – isn’t it funny that it’s Christmas Day tomorrow? It doesn’t really feel like Christmas. Oh, I know there are all the proper things – Christmas trees and mince pies and so on – but Winter Hall is such a peculiar place. So many servants – and gongs ringing – and having to dress up all the time . . .’

  Sophie nodded. ‘I don’t blame Leo for preferring London. I can’t say I like any of her family very much. Lord Fitzgerald ignores us, Lady Fitzgerald obviously loathes us, and Vincent is always glowering – and he’s so horrid to Leo.’

  Lil shrugged. ‘I feel a bit sorry for him. I can’t think of anything worse than having all those people deciding what you’re going to do with your life. Why, imagine someone else choosing who you were going to marry! That’s why the Whiteleys are here, of course. They’re cooking up a match between Veronica and Vincent.’

  Sophie grimaced. ‘Poor Veronica. She doesn’t look very pleased with the idea. After she was almost forced to marry the Baron, you’d think that they would at least let her choose her husband for herself. And as for Vincent, he looks like he’d rather pay his attentions to you.’ She giggled. ‘Mr Pendleton’s nose is quite out of joint.’

  Lil clambered into bed. ‘Well that’s just silly,’ she said decidedly. ‘I think Vincent’s a cad. If he can’t even behave decently to his own sister, then I’m certain I don’t want any more to do with him than I have to. Besides, it’s not as if he would ever marry me.’ She gave a little gurgle of laughter. ‘Just imagine – his parents would have a fit! Although Lady Lilian Fitzgerald does have a certain ring to it, don’t you think?’ she finished with a grin.

  Sophie laughed, as she climbed into bed too.

  ‘You know, it’s rather interesting to see what high society people are like, but I think I’d loathe this kind of life,’ Lil reflected. ‘Apart from anything else, I don’t even want to get married.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ asked Sophie in surprise.

  ‘No fear! I’d rather be an independent woman of means,’ declared Lil grandly, snuggling down under the counterpane. ‘Travelling the world – and performing on the stages of Paris and Vienna and New York – and solving mysteries of course. I shan’t have time for romance.’

  Sophie chuckled. ‘But what about poor Joe? You know he’s always had a soft spot for you.’

  ‘Joe’s a terribly good sort – I like him awfully. But as a chum, not as a husband. Besides, what about you? You’re the one with two different suitors dangling after you!’

  ‘Whatever are you talking about?’ said Sophie with an embarrassed laugh.

  ‘Oh please,’ said Lil, enjoying herself immensely. ‘You know quite well that Jack thinks you’re wonderful.’ She snorted. ‘Probably because you’re about the first girl that hasn’t swooned at his feet the second he met them. And don’t think I didn’t see Song looking all gooey-eyed at you the other night after our Sewing Society meeting. So which one of them is it going to be?’

  Sophie leaned over to blow out the candle. ‘Well . . .’ she said in the dark, with the air of one about to confide a great secret. ‘Actually . . . I don’t think I’m too bothered about suitors either.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. As it happens, I think I’d rather be an independent woman of means, travelling the world and solving mysteries.’

  Lil gave a delighted giggle. They were both still smiling when they fell asleep.

  Tilly woke early the next morning, when her room was still in darkness. For a moment she felt as thrilled as she used to on Christmas morning when she was very small, and could glimpse the shadowy lump of a stocking at the foot of her bed, crammed with treats – an orange, a shiny red apple, a handful of nuts.

  Now of course she was too grown-up for a stocking, but in spite of the cold, she jumped out of bed, and went over to the window and peeped outside. There was a fresh dusting of snow on the rooftops, and she felt a bubble of excitement in her stomach. It would be a busy day below stairs, but Christmas was always fun. There would be presents to exchange with Ma – hopefully she would have got the book Tilly had hinted at, and not something dull like a new apron. Then a walk across the frosty estate to chu
rch for the Christmas service, the housemaids all rigged out in their Sunday best with ribbons on their hats. At teatime, there was always a party for the children on the estate, officially hosted by Her Ladyship, but really organised by Mrs Dawes and the maids with Miss Leo’s help. There would be crackers and party games and presents – and then after the party and once the family had dined, there would be a big Christmas supper in the Servants’ Hall with a bowl of punch, and Mr Stokes would make a toast.

  The only thing to spoil it was that Miss Leo would be leaving again once Christmas was over. She’d confided to Tilly that she wanted to go back to London as soon as she could.

  ‘I can’t bear it here any longer. It’s all right while Jack and the others are here. It’s been rather fun. But once they’ve gone, it will be simply horrid – especially as I don’t get very much time with you.’

  Tilly had stared back at her unhappily. Of course, she was glad Miss Leo was happy in her new life in London – but she hated the thought of her vanishing away again.

  Above stairs, the house party also had a busy day ahead of them. After breakfast, they attended the service at the pretty old church on the estate. As the congregation stood to sing a carol, Sophie was a little disconcerted to spot a familiar-looking velvet hat with very purple violets several rows ahead of her; but when she looked for the old lady after the service, she was nowhere to be seen.

  Afterwards, they walked back to the house for a large luncheon, followed by the exchange of presents in the Drawing Room. Sophie watched as Leo opened her presents – a fashionable frilly gown from her mother, for which she tried to look pleased and stumbled out awkward thanks, followed by a beautiful set of oil paints from Lady Tremayne which clearly thrilled her. Sophie had only brought little gifts for Lil, Jack and Leo, but Mr Sinclair surprised them all by presenting each of them with a very large and magnificent box of Sinclair’s chocolates.