Goodly and Grave in a Bad Case of Kidnap

by Justine Windsor

  The rumbling rumbled some more.

  Then a slash appeared a few feet above the drive. It was as though someone had painted a bright ragged line in mid-air.

  Lucy flung herself behind a rhinoceros-shaped topiary. Of course, she soon discovered that flinging oneself while wearing armour is a not very sensible course of action. She ended up lying in a tangled metal heap behind the rhino. Once she’d struggled into a crouching position, Lucy could see that the slash hanging above the drive had widened. Now it was more of a hole than a slash. Lucy could feel the rumbling coming from it. Her armour rattled.

  Then, as the rumbling reached a crescendo, four horses pulling a black carriage galloped out of the hole. Their manes and tails were soft and fluffy, more like thistledown than horsehair. And there was something odd growing out of their shoulders. Lucy gawped as she realised they were wings – elegant, transparent wings, which reflected tiny beads of colour where the sunlight touched them.

  Lucy cowered further behind the rhinoceros, her metal-gloved hand over her mouth.

  Water began trickling through the hole, spattering the gravel. The trickle became a gush, and the gush became a wave carrying a small sailing boat. The wave broke, landing the boat on the gravel. Seawater foamed over the drive and trickled towards Lucy before drying up as quickly as it had appeared. A gangplank shot out from the side of the boat and a man and a woman disembarked. Both had silvery hair and were dressed in navy blue. The silver-haired people strode over to the carriage and began speaking to whoever or whatever was inside.

  Lucy began unfastening her armour as quietly as she could. Her fingers trembled and by the time she’d undone all the buckles, the strange people gathering on the drive had made their way inside the hall. Lucy sprinted out from behind the rhinoceros, round to the back of the house and into the kitchen. Becky Bone was there, sitting in Vonk’s chair at the head of the kitchen table and poring over the latest edition of the Penny Dreadful. Becky loved the Penny Dreadful, which was full of what Vonk described as a steaming pile of utter nonsense. Smell was curled up on Becky’s lap.

  “Where’s Mrs Crawley?” asked Lucy, gasping for breath.

  Becky didn’t look up from the Penny. “Gone down to the village on her penny-farthing. She’s getting her beard trimmed. That little sap Violet has gone with her.”

  “I just saw the strangest thing. These people just arrived and—”

  “What people?”

  “They’ve gone inside now, but … well, come and see.”

  “This better not be some stupid trick, Goodly. There’s another child gone missing, you know. Eddie Robinson, he’s called.” Becky held up the paper. It had the headline:

  ANOTHER MISSING CHILD!

  Below the headline was a drawing of a boy with untidy hair and a mole on his left cheek.

  “The Penny thinks they’re all being eaten by flesh-eating zombies,” Becky said.

  “Never mind that! Come on!”

  Becky sighed loudly, but she put the Penny Dreadful down and gently moved Smell off her lap. He yawned and stretched before following the two girls out of the kitchen.

  “What am I supposed to be looking at?” Becky said when the three of them reached the front of the house.

  “Those horses! That boat!”

  Becky folded her arms. “What are you talking about, boot girl? There’s nothing there. I wish some zombie would eat you, you pea brain.” She tutted and stomped off back to the kitchen and the Penny. Smell didn’t immediately follow her. He gazed up at Lucy, considering her with his unblinking orange eye, before trotting slowly off.

  Lucy stared at the carriage and the boat. One of the winged horses neighed. Why was she seeing things Becky couldn’t? Perhaps her brain was fibbing to her due to lack of sleep and too much worry.

  Lucy suddenly glimpsed movement in the corner of her eye. She turned and shrieked. A monster stood next to her. It had a pointed head with round bulging metal eyes. Lucy watched, horrified, as the monster grabbed its own head and began to pull it off … Under that head was another head.

  Lucy made a strangled noise of relief.

  “Oh dear. Did my helmet scare you? I cobbled it together myself, you know. It’s for checking the bees,” Vonk said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to …” She gestured towards the horses and the carriage and the boat.

  Vonk frowned. “Yes?”

  Vonk couldn’t see them either!

  “I … er … wanted some fresh air.”

  Vonk smiled at her as if she’d just done something really very good. “I see. Well, it’s nearly suppertime. Mrs Crawley’s left us some cold cuts. Although I fear they may be accompanied by an experimental salad. Let’s go in.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  EVERLASTING SOUP AND CHICKEN-WITH-MORE-BODY-PARTS-THAN-MIGHT-BE-REASONABLY-EXPECTED

  That night, Lucy tossed and turned in her squeaky iron bedstead.

  When she finally fell asleep, it was nearly time to get up again and she overslept. Because she was so late, she skipped breakfast and went straight to the boot room, albeit reluctantly. She counted twenty-six pairs of shoes and boots for polishing. They couldn’t all be Lord Grave’s, because they were all different sizes and some were women’s shoes. Perhaps they belonged to the silver-haired woman she’d seen the night before. But if the woman was real, the rest of what she’d seen must be real too …

  Lucy picked up a boot and began scraping the mud and dirt off it, all the time thinking about the bewildering events of the last two days.

  Playing cards that came to life and changed places with each other.

  A grumpy Lord,who threatened to have the Goodly family put in prison.

  Flying carriages pulled by winged horses.

  Boats sailing in mid-air.

  Grave Hall was clearly a far from normal place. Although Lucy was partly intrigued by what she’d seen, she was also alarmed and wanted to escape back to her parents as soon as possible. “Get thinking, Goodly. Make a plan,” she muttered.

  Six pairs of shoes in, when the only thing Lucy was in danger of developing was a shoe-polish-induced headache, Violet the scullery maid opened the boot-room door.

  “I’ll help you if you like. Mrs Crawley said I could,” she said shyly.

  “Thanks, Violet,” Lucy smiled.

  Violet pulled up a stool and sat next to Lucy. Before she started work, the little girl took out Caruthers, whispered something to the woolly amphibian, then put him back in her apron pocket. Lucy bit back a smile. She didn’t want to be like Becky and laugh at Violet, but she really was a most peculiar little girl. Though her sweetness and warmth meant Lucy couldn’t help but like her.

  For a time, the two girls cleaned in silence, the only noises coming from the rub of brush and cloth on leather.

  “So these aren’t all Lord Grave’s shoes, are they?” Lucy eventually asked, in a casual sort of voice.

  “Mrs Crawley told me some guests arrived yesterday. Lord Grave isn’t very happy though. He doesn’t like visitors.”

  “I bet he doesn’t. He’s not a very nice man, is he?”

  Violet stopped cleaning the green scaly boot she was working on. “Mrs Crawley says that he’s grumpy and sad because of Lady and little Lord Grave dying. She says he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Hmm. Violet, did you see the guests arrive last night?”

  “I wasn’t here, I’d gone down to the village with Mrs Crawley and then I went home. Why?”

  “Oh, nothing really. Just curious.”

  Violet resumed her cleaning. “This leather is very odd. I think it smells a little bit of fish!”

  Lucy and Violet were exhausted by the time they staggered into the kitchen, where Mrs Crawley was alone, eating an omelette. Smell was sitting on the table next to Mrs Crawley’s plate, eyeing up the food and licking his lips hopefully.

  “I’m trying a new recipe. Banana and anchovy omelette topped with flaked sprout. Would you girls like some? You must be
hungry after all those boots. Or bread and milk? Smell, get away now, you know eggs don’t agree with your digestion!”

  “Bread and milk, please,” Lucy said.

  “Me too!” Violet added quickly.

  Lucy fetched them both some milk from the pitcher in the larder and cut thick slices of crusty bread before sitting down.

  “There were so many boots,” Lucy kept her eyes on her food. “I think I saw one of the guests arrive yesterday, actually. In a very unusual carriage. The horses were … different from any I’ve ever seen.”

  “Oh, that’ll be Lady Sybil. She breeds the horses herself. Swift as birds, they are.” Mrs Crawley beamed at Lucy, displaying a sprout flake stuck between her front teeth. Except for the sprout flake, it was the same sort of smile Vonk had given her last night. A well done you! type of smile.

  Lucy ate the rest of her lunch in silence, pondering what could possibly be going on. She was swallowing the last crumb when Becky came into the kitchen, scowling as usual.

  “When you’ve finished filling your cakehole, there’s work to be done. We need to brush the stair carpet.”

  “Oh no,” said Mrs Crawley, snatching her empty plate out of reach of Smell’s tongue. “Change of plan. I need all hands on deck. His Lordship’s holding a formal dinner party tonight for his guests.”

  “I’ll be needing my best uniform, if I’m waiting at table,” said Becky, straightening her cap and very nearly smiling.

  “Lucy, you’ll be waiting at table too.” Mrs Crawley paused. “In fact, I think Becky can stay and help me and Violet in the kitchen. Lucy, you and Vonk can manage service between you.”

  Becky’s face turned an interesting shade of purple. “Her? But she’s only the boot girl! Boot girls don’t—”

  “Becky Bone!” Mrs Crawley drew herself up to her full six foot three and a quarter inches and looked quite menacing. “When you’re housekeeper-cum-cook then you can say who does what and when. Until then, I decide.”

  Becky opened her mouth and then closed it again. But she gave Lucy a filthy glare.

  Lord Grave’s dining room was the grandest room in the house. It looked even grander lit by the dozens of candles that sat in holders on the wooden-panelled walls and sparkled from the crystal chandelier that dangled above the long dining table.

  All the food for Lord Grave’s guests was lined up on a sideboard that stood against the wall. It was Lucy’s job to help Vonk serve it up. The first course was a very curious soup. Not only was it a rather odd purple colour (despite the fact Vonk had told Mrs Crawley she couldn’t serve any experimental food this evening), but it appeared to be everlasting. Vonk was serving it from a silver tureen barely big enough to hold a single serving of soup. Lucy couldn’t understand how it could hold enough for everyone.

  But each time Vonk dipped his ladle in, it came out full. He ladled the liquid into soup plates, which Lucy then carried to the table, trying her best not to spill any down the necks of the diners.

  Vonk had told her who each of the four guests were. There was a sorrowful-looking man called Lord Percy. Sitting next to him was Lady Sibyl, the owner of the black carriage. She was a tall woman made even taller by her hair, which was piled high on her head and topped off with two very large peacock feathers. Lucy kept feeling as though the eyes in the feathers were watching her.

  The other two guests were the people Lucy had seen disembarking from the boat yesterday. The woman’s name was Prudence Beguildy and the man’s Beguildy Beguildy, which made Lucy giggle. Perhaps his parents had been too lazy to think of a proper first name. They were twins. Prudence Beguildy’s hairstyle was very similar to Lady Sibyl’s, but decorated with a small model ship in full sail. Beguildy Beguildy wore a smart naval uniform. The jacket had gold braid and buttons and what looked like upside-down gilt hairbrushes on the shoulders.

  When it was time to serve the main course, Vonk whipped the lid off a silver platter. Crouching underneath was a small roast chicken not much bigger than Smell.

  “But that’ll never serve everyone,” Lucy whispered to Vonk. “Isn’t Mrs Crawley going to send up some more?”

  Vonk didn’t reply. He just winked at Lucy and began sharpening his carving knife. And although the roast chicken seemed exactly as a roast chicken should, crispy-skinned and delicious-smelling with the usual number of body parts, Lucy lost count of the numbers of wings and legs and breasts she served up.

  Once the guests had finished their main course, Vonk and Lucy began clearing the table in preparation for dessert. By then, Lord Grave and his guests seemed to have forgotten Lucy was there, and as she went to and fro from the dining room to the kitchen and back again, she caught snippets of their conversation, which grew increasingly tense.

  “I know you’ve asked us not to speak of it, but I have to make my feelings plain. Ma’am needs you …” said Lord Percy as Lucy carried out the side plates.

  “… you say that, Lord Grave, but what about your recent actions?” said Lady Sibyl as Lucy came back in to clear the dinner plates piled with bones from the chicken-with-more-body-parts-than-might-be-reasonably-expected. She had to be careful as Bathsheba, who had been asleep under the table, was now standing on her hind legs, trying to hook her claws round the leftovers.

  “… take her because of Ma’am,” Lord Grave was saying rather huffily as Lucy returned with dessert plates. “I simply wish to ensure—” He stopped when he saw Lucy. She badly wanted to stay and hear more, but she had to go back to the kitchen as she’d forgotten the spoons. As she was coming back into the dining room with them, she heard Prudence Beguildy say, “… Ma’am must act now that we have Eddie Robinson …”

  Lucy dropped all the dessert forks and spoons she was holding and they clattered to the floor. Prudence Beguildy instantly stopped speaking. Lord Grave glared at Lucy.

  “Sorry, your Lordship,” Lucy said as she bent to pick up the cutlery, glad of an excuse to hide her shock.

  Eddie Robinson!

  He was the boy in the Penny Dreadful, the latest child to be kidnapped.

  Working as quickly as she could, Lucy distributed the silverware. The candles in the dining room were beginning to burn down now, making Lord Grave’s face and the faces of his guests look shadowy and sinister. Even Prudence Beguildy’s hairstyle looked eerie in the dim light. Lucy imagined she could see tiny faces looking out of the portholes of the boat, their faces set in a scream.

  The guests’ silence continued when Vonk swept in, holding a bowl of miraculously tall and wobbly sherry trifle. He looked rather puzzled as he set the trifle on the table, as though he’d expected the guests to applaud the magnificent dessert and was perplexed by the silence.

  “We’ll see to ourselves now,” said Lord Grave. “You can clear away when we’ve retired to the drawing room.”

  “Of course,” said Vonk. “Come along, Lucy.”

  Lucy desperately wanted to escape to her room to think about what she had just heard, so was disappointed to find that whatever uncanny forces had created the everlasting soup and the chicken-with-more-body-parts-than-might-be-reasonably-expected, hadn’t bothered to do the washing up. There were dishes and saucepans scattered everywhere. Smell was taking advantage of the confusion to lick all the plates clean.

  Mrs Crawley clapped her hands, “Smell, get away. I can’t cope with a week of after effects from you. Lucy, you can begin drying the dishes Becky’s washed, please. I’ve sent Violet home; she was worn out.”

  Lucy sighed and grabbed a tea towel. Becky at once began criticising her drying up method. Lucy ignored her and wandered off inside her own head, trying to understand what it was she had seen and heard at the dinner party.

  Lucy was sure that she was the child Lord Grave was talking about; the child he’d said he’d taken. But what did Prudence Beguildy mean by now we have Eddie Robinson?

  Did it mean … could it mean … that Lord Grave and his dinner-party guests had taken Eddie? And if they’d taken Eddie, what about the other missi
ng children? Where were they now? Had they been handed over to the woman they all called ‘Ma’am’? Had Lord Grave taken Lucy from her parents for the same reason? Was she too going to end up in the clutches of the mysterious and no doubt villainous Ma’am too?

  Lucy finished drying the lid she was holding. When she put it back on the dish it belonged to, her shaking hand made it rattle.

  “Are you all right, Lucy?” Mrs Crawley said.

  “Fine, thanks. Just a bit worn out.” But Lucy felt as far from fine as it was possible to be. What was she going to do?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TICKLING LORD GRAVE’S GREAT-GRANDMOTHER’S CHINS

  Everyone was tired the next morning and very grumpy. Lucy had spent the night fruitlessly trying to think of an escape plan. Mrs Crawley was so exhausted from last night’s cooking, she hadn’t even bothered to take her beard out of the three plaits she wore it in for bed. Violet was sitting at the kitchen table, polishing the silver. Every now and then she would lay her head on the table, using Caruthers as a cushion.

  Lucy and Becky were dispatched to clean the drawing room. Lucy followed Becky out of the kitchen and upstairs. Becky barrelled towards the drawing room, griping about Mrs Crawley as she went.

  “Don’t see why I should have to clean the drawing room again. I reckon those insects she’s been scoffing have infested her brain. Probably eating it …”

  Becky was so distracted, she didn’t realise that Lucy wasn’t right behind her, but was loitering in the hallway. There were voices coming from the landing above. Maybe she’d be able to overhear something useful that might explain what had happened to Eddie and what might happen to her if she didn’t manage to escape before Lord Grave handed her to Ma’am. It was risky, but she had to do something!

  Lucy ran up the stairs. When she reached the first-floor landing, she heard the voices again. A spindly-legged black cabinet painted with gold and silver dragons stood beside the stairs. Lucy squeezed herself behind it and watched as Lord Grave and the sorrowful-looking man made their way along the east wing corridor.