by Joan Aiken
‘Lady Tegleaze is my grandmother?’ Cris murmured dazedly.
‘That’s right. Mind, don’t go running off wi’ the notion that life up at Tegleaze Manor is going to be everlasting sherry cobbler and larks on toast – it ain’t so. Lady T. has gambled away all her dibs on the races. But at least it’ll be a whole heap better than life with Mother Lubbage. You won’t have to lurk up in the loft and live on spud scrapings. And old Auntie Daisy’ll hatta treat you civil from now on.’
‘Sannie’s there,’ Cris said, half to herself. ‘I’m scared of Sannie.’
Dido frowned. She too had thought about this.
‘Well, we just got to find a way to put a damper on that old spider-monkey. And, whatever you do, Cris, don’t you go eating of those Joobie nuts; you lay off ’em.’
‘Will I have to stay up at the Manor always, now?’ Cris was sounding more and more doubtful.
‘Now, Cris!’ Dido began scoldingly. In her heart, though, she was uncertain enough. Would Cris be happier up at the Manor with all those funny old things? But surely it was better than life at Dogkennel Cottages?
There was another pause, then Cris sighed again.
‘Aswell says I belong there.’
Mighty good of you, Aswell, Dido commented inwardly. You’re a real pal.
Five minutes’ more trotting and they reached the Manor. Dido walked in without knocking. No one was about; she guessed that everybody was still assembled upstairs.
‘Come along, this way. Crumpet, Cris, don’t gawp so – you’ll hatta get used to the place.’
She led Cris over the marble paving, up the stairs, and then turned in the direction of Tobit’s room. ‘Here, this won’t take but a moment and I reckon it’ll help – ’
Rummaging in Tobit’s untidy apartment she found several of his black velvet suits.
‘Put one o’ these on. It looks to be just your size. Lawks, gal, you’re naught but skin and bone, it surely is time we got you outa that old devil’s clutches. Now, where does the boy wash?’
Investigating, Dido found a dressing-closet and wash-stand with pewter basin and ewer. She soaped a cloth and briskly scrubbed the inattentive face of Cris, who had found the picture of the three children and was standing riveted in front of it.
‘That’s Aswell!’
‘You said you’d never seen Aswell,’ said Dido, buttoning cuffs.
‘No, but that’s how I imagine him.’
‘It’s you. Here look at yourself – ’ Dido wheeled her to face the looking-glass over the mantel. Cris gazed in astonishment.
‘Is that me? I never saw myself before.’
‘Croopus, Cris, you ain’t half got a lot to learn,’ Dido muttered, hard at work with a moulting silver hairbrush. ‘Right! We’re ready, come along.’
She led Cris through the maze of passages to Lady Tegleaze’s room.
The conclave was still assembled, but now something mysterious was going on. Sannie and Mrs Lubbage, evidently at the request of Lady Tegleaze, were doing a bit of conjuring. Another pewter washbasin had been filled with what looked like ink. Sannie had lit a lot of incense-sticks which, stuck about in egg-cups and toilet jars, were filling the room with white choking smoke. Frill, Pelmett, Gusset, the doctor, Cousin Wilfred and the Colonel were standing in a ring looking nervous and ill at ease; Lady Tegleaze still reclined on her couch; Mrs Lubbage was gazing into the basin of ink while Sannie chanted foreign words in a shrill unearthly tone.
‘Ah, now I begins to see clear,’ Mrs Lubbage was saying, as Dido poked her head round the door. ‘Yes, I can see a face. Yes, it be the face of your granddaughter Cristin, my lady . . .’
‘Where is she?’ Lady Tegleaze asked eagerly.
‘Wait a minute – wait a minute – the driply mist be a-thickening again. Ah, now ’tis clearing. Cristin be a turble long way from here, my lady – over hill and dale, over bush and briar, over sand and swamp and sea. Far, far away, she be; ’twill cost a power o’ money to fetch her home.’
‘Now, that’s a funny thing,’ Dido said, stepping in briskly and dragging the nervous Cris behind her. ‘I’d a notion she was no farther away than right here, and it’d cost nothing at all to fetch her!’
Three things then happened simultaneously: Lady Tegleaze shrieked, Colonel FitzPickwick let out a fearful oath and Mrs Lubbage, startled almost out of her wits, upset the basin of ink, which poured in a black flood all over the carpet.
‘My granddaughter!’ Ignoring the fact that her lavender satin was trailing in the ink and that her wig was awry, Lady Tegleaze rose, swept forward, and enveloped Cris in a bony embrace from which the latter, looking somewhat taken aback, freed herself as soon as she could.
‘Knavery! Arrant deception! Dear lady, do but think! What possibility can there be that this come-by-chance brat could be your grandchild? It is a piece of barefaced imposture!’
Colonel FitzPickwick had recovered and strode forward, casting looks of rage at Sannie and Mrs Lubbage.
‘Imposture? Nonsense! Look at the child’s face. Besides – look at the dog.’
The dog Lion, who would go to no one but Tobit, was standing on his hind legs, with a paw on each of Cris’s shoulders, crying with joy, and licking her face with a large blue tongue. She put her arms round his white furry neck and hugged him back.
Pity I washed her face, Dido thought regretfully. It would a been prime to have it come plain when the dog licked it. Never mind, she’s in, that’s the main thing.
For it was plain that by Lady Tegleaze, by Cousin Wilfred and by Gusset, Cris had been unhesitatingly accepted. The two witches, biting their lips with chagrin, were quarrelling in furious undertones. Frill, Pelmett and the Colonel, pale and angry, were on the point of quitting the room when Lady Tegleaze said to Cris,
‘Now, tell me, what do you want, dear child? What do you need? Food, clothes – er, toys?’
‘Nothing, thank you, my lady,’ Cris said politely, ‘only – ’
‘Call me grandmother!’ snapped the old lady. ‘Only? Well, what?’
‘Only to see my brother Tobit.’
‘Oh that is quite out of the question. He has done for himself. I’ve washed my hands of him.’
‘But, Lady Tegleaze,’ said Dido, ‘I’m sure as ninepence he didn’t steal those fish. They was palmed off on him. Arter all, who in the name o’ thunder would be so totty-headed as to stick a pair o’ goldfish in his britches pocket?’
‘Whether he stole them or not, it is all one. If he had not disobeyed me and gone to Petworth, he would not have exposed himself to such a risk. I have no more interest in him. If he is sent to Botany Bay it is no concern of mine.’
‘But, grandmother – ’ Cris began.
‘No more, miss!’
Botheration, thought Dido. What an old tarmigan. This alters the look o’ matters.
She had expected that, in gratitude for the production of Cris, Lady Tegleaze would be prepared to exert herself on Tobit’s behalf, but plainly that was not going to happen.
Murmuring, ‘Well, enjoy yourself, Cris, see you Turpentine Sunday,’ Dido slipped away, following the Colonel who, without noticing her, had walked rapidly to the back stairs, down them and out along the path to the tilting-yard.
The pale moon was beginning to struggle out, throwing long spindly shadows on the mist. Dido saw another shadow, with its owner, move out from one of the yew trees.
‘Well?’ Dido recognized the grating tone of Miles Mystery. ‘How did it g-go? Will the boy get a stiff sentence? How did the old lady take the n-news?’
‘Oh, as expected. But – ’
‘But what?’ Mystery said sharply.’
‘Our plans are overset. Another grandchild has turned up.’
‘Devil take it! What are you telling me? How can there be another grandchild?’
‘It seems there was a twin sister of Tobit, mislaid or farmed out in infancy. Those two old hags, Sannie and Mrs Lubbage, have been playing deuce-ace with us – they knew of
this other child all along, and planned to demand a handsome sum from Lady Tegleaze as the price for producing her when Tobit was knocked out of the game.’
‘Wait till I lay my hands on the d-double-dealing old witches! They’ll reckon that money hard-earned!’
‘But they never got the money!’
‘S-so? Why not?’
‘That strange child – the one who is lodging at Dogkennel with the Navy captain – she suddenly sprang the plot and produced the missing grandchild.’
‘How in Lucifer’s name did she know about it?’
‘Lord knows. We shall have to do something about her. She may know too much for comfort.’
‘Not only her. We shall have to get rid of the other grandchild.’
‘How?’
‘If she was lost once – she m-must be lost again.’
Dido’s blood ran cold at the calm way in which Miles Mystery uttered these words. Plainly the Colonel also felt a qualm for he said,
‘No violence, Tuggles. You know I draw the line at violence. It’s too dangerous.’
‘Oh, call me Tegleaze! It is my name, after all. – Hark, what was that?’
Dido held her breath. Had they seen her, crouching by the hedge? But then she saw Mrs Lubbage and Tante Sannie, still bickering angrily, come down the steps and start to cross the lawn. They had not noticed the two men, and appeared somewhat confused when Colonel FitzPickwick accosted them.
‘A f-fine trick you played us, you miserable pair of old scarecrows!’ Mr Mystery exclaimed angrily. ‘You needn’t think I’ll stir myself to send you to Tiburon Island now. Pretending to help us with Tobit and the old lady – and all the time you had another grandchild hidden up your sleeves!’
‘Is not pretending!’ Sannie said fiercely. ‘Is helping! Number two grandchild – pooh! T’ousand pound in pocket, why not, then get rid, easy as Tobit.’
‘Only you didn’t get the thousand pounds,’ Mr Mystery pointed out unkindly. ‘And I’m not weeping millstones – you deceitful pair of old crows! Well! you can whistle for your great white ship to Tiburon after that – you’ll not get it from me, even when I come into the estate.’
‘Just you bide a minute, you fine Mr Mystery!’ hissed Sannie, scuttling after him like a scorpion as he turned away. ‘You cast us off now, you fine fellow, you be sad and sorry, afore long-soon, when the ground gape black under your foot, when the water snatch you in she claws, when the Luck-piece hang over you head and you can’t reach!’
‘Best keep the old beldames in a good humour,’ Colonel FitzPickwick urged in a low tone.
Mystery jerked his head reluctantly. The two men and the two old women were slowly moving away, with their unnaturally long shadows trailing behind them on the mist like black wings.
‘Drat!’ said Dido. ‘I wish I could a heard a bit more.’
She ran softly across the lawn, but the two couples had separated, and the men were mounting horses in the stable-yard.
Slowly and thoughtfully, Dido made her way home. As she neared Dogkennel Cottages she recalled Mrs Lubbage’s make-believe dragon, and quailed a little at the thought of what might be in store for her tonight. But whatever it is, I’ll just throw a rock at it, she decided.
Tonight there was no dragon, nor was Mrs Lubbage herself to be seen. Suspicious of the silence and darkness, remembering Mrs Lubbage’s broken lock, Dido approached her own cottage and looked for the key under the stone. But the key was not there. A glimmer of candlelight showed in the window and the door was open. Surely it was late for Mr Firkin still to be sitting with the Captain?
Dido pushed the door back and went in.
Mr Firkin was not there. Instead, Mrs Lubbage and Tante Sannie were sitting in silence, one on either side of the Captain’s bed. He did not stir as Dido entered; he appeared to be sleeping.
A dreadful apprehension filled her. She darted forward to the bed and leaned over it.
‘Cap’n! Cap’n Hughes! Are you all right?’
He neither moved nor stirred. The sharp eyes of Tante Sannie and Mrs Lubbage moved up and fixed on Dido like pins in a map.
‘Cap’n Hughes! Please say summat!’ She shook him a little, but he did not answer. He breathed, but only just; his mouth was a little open, his face deadly pale – what could be seen of it under the bandages.
‘If you’ve killed him, you old – ’ burst out Dido, choking with grief and terror, ‘if you’ve hurted him – Oh, what have you done to him? What’ll happen to him?’
‘Wait and see, Miss Prussy! Wait and see!’ Mrs Lubbage gave Dido a look of malignant satisfaction. ‘And maybe this’ll teach ye a lesson not to be so quick to meddle in other folk’s concerns! Come, Sannie; us’ll leave, eh, now the fine young lady’s come ahome. She can look arter him.’
Dido hardly noticed when they left. She was frantically rubbing the Captain’s cold hands. She filled a stone bottle with hot ginger ale and put it to his feet. She mixed a mustard-plaster and laid it on his stomach; she fetched in a bundle of chicken feathers and set light to them, filling the room with foul-smelling fumes; she tickled his feet and held a warm flat-iron to them, and sprinkled snuff under his nose. None of these remedies had the least effect. The Captain contined to lie still as a log, hardly alive, yet not quite dead.
In despair, Dido went and roused Mr Firkin who came quickly when she made him understand the gravity of the case. He felt the Captain all over with careful, wise old hands.
‘Arr, she’ve overlooked him, surelye. Deary me, darter, that is misfortunate, just when he was a-coming along so nimbly.’
‘Is he dying?’ asked Dido, gulping.
‘Nay, I wouldn’t say that, darter, not here-an-nows. But die he may, don’t she take the spell off’n him again. He can’t eat, see, not while he be thisaway; he be like to starve.’
‘What’ll I do?’ Dido muttered, half to herself.
‘Ee’ll have to eat humble-pie, darter; I dunno how ee harmed owd Mis’ Lubbage, but ee’ll have to undo it, and ask her to take off the overlooking.’
‘She never would. And I never would,’ said Dido flatly. ‘It didn’t even advantage her any to hurt the Cap’n; she just did it out o’ pure malicefulness. I’ll cure him somehow. Or I’ll make her take the spell off. Anyways, I don’t believe in spells!’ She was half crying.
‘Well, darter, us’ll try this and us’ll try that. A drop o’ Blue Ruin wi’ red pepper in it works wonders for my old eyes, time they suffers from the sheepshrink. I’ll see how that gooes down.’
It did go down – and the Captain blinked, as if it had given him a lively minute’s dream – but it did not rouse him.
‘Anyhows, that shows we can feed him,’ said Dido, recovering, and rather ashamed of her loss of control. ‘Why, when I was in a swound on board the whaler they fed me for nigh on ten months with whale oil and molasses. I’ll get some molasses in Petworth tomorrow.’
‘Music,’ muttered Mr Firkin. ‘Music be a powerful strong tonic agin sorcery and spells. I dunno why but so ’tis. I’ll sing the Cap’n a shanty or two.’
‘Just afore you gets going,’ said Dido, visited by a sudden idea, ‘Mr Firkin, does you have sich a thing as a corkscrew?’
Mr Firkin, who had opened his mouth to sing, paused in mid-breath.
‘A twistycork, darter? Surelye. Look ee in the chest in my toolshed, ee’ll find one there.’ He filled his lungs again.
Dido found the corkscrew, whispered to the Riobound Mr Firkin that she would be back in twenty minutes or so, and set off at a fast run for the Cuckoo Tree.
The next day dawned gloomy and lowering. Dido awoke very dejected. Captain Hughes still lay in the same stupor – his condition had not changed despite all Mr Firkin’s songs – and she could not help blaming herself bitterly. Supposing he never recovered? And what other forms might Mrs Lubbage’s ill-will take? Suppose the witches made Cris’s life miserable at Tegleaze Manor? Suppose they prevented the Dispatch from reaching London?
Trying to shak
e off these gloomy thoughts, she gave Dapple an extra handful of feed.
‘Eat up, old mate, us has to go into Petworth and get some spermaceti and treacle.’
Just before she left, Gusset arrived with more provisions and a bottle of blackberry wine.
‘Old Lady Tegleaze be rare and spry,’ he told Dido. ‘Reckon she thinks a granddaughter be a better bargain than a grandson.’
‘How’s Cris settling?’
‘A mite peaky and homesick; it do all seem turble big and grand to her, poor young maidy. How be the Cap’n?’
When Dido told Gusset what had happened he shook his head in an anxious and gloomy manner, and promised to send Dr Subito as soon as possible.
‘Though I doubt he’ll not be able to do anything, missie; old Mis’ Lubbage’s spells be desprit powerful when she’s roused. ’Tis better to keep on the right side of her, or she can do deadly harm. I know, who better.’ A shadow passed over his aged face.
‘I’ve got to get him away from here,’ Dido said, biting her lip with anxiety. ‘You don’t think Frill or Pelmett’d help – I couldn’t borrow the trap and take him to an inn – he can’t be wuss off than he is here.’
‘Pelmett’s gone, missie.’
‘Gone? When?’
‘Said he had an offer of a sitiwation wi’ better pay and took his bundle and went off last night.’
‘Sounds a bit havey-cavey? What about Frill?’
‘I doubt he be going to follow. We shan’t miss ’em, they warn’t much use.’
Gussett took his leave, casting a wary eye in the direction of Mrs Lubbage’s house, and promising he would ask about the trap. But, he said, he thought it very unlikely that Lady Tegleaze would be willing to lend it.
Dido left the Captain in the care of Mr Firkin, who usually spent Saturday cleaning his cottage. Dido promised to do this when she returned, and also to buy him some provisions.
When she reached Petworth, she could not help noticing that it seemed to be in an extreme state of turmoil and uproar. People were rushing hither and thither, up and down the streets, in what seemed a purposeless way: like ants when their nest has been disturbed.