“What, with a lit candle and all?”
“It’s possible. Why shouldn’t you do things in sleep that you do when awake?” In truth, I did think that Leah might be sleepwalking, and it was reassuring to think so.
“Should we fetch someone to her?” asked Dog.
“No, no,” I said quickly. “It would be dangerous to wake her in such a state. She’s best left. She’ll come back to herself naturally. I’ll return in a while and make sure the candle flame is safely out.”
Dog was still looking doubtful. I hurried her to the door, patting her shoulder. “There’s no cause for worry, Dog. I believe such sleep activity is common enough. We’ll keep it to ourselves and not worry the Master.”
Dog nodded. “And you’ll make sure she’s back in her bed?” She shivered again. “Otherwise she might come walkin’ in my chamber!”
“I’ll do all that’s necessary.”
Her candle guttered away down the passage. Then in the darkness I made my way across the room to my cold bed and climbed in.
I lay waiting, my feet like stones. Later, I lit my own candle with a flint from the tinderbox and tiptoed back down the dark hole of the passageway. Though her door still swung on its latch, Leah’s chamber was in darkness. I stood by the gap and listened, but heard only her steady breathing. Then I went back to bed myself, too cold, too full of dread, to sleep again.
The following night I kept the candle burning by my bed. The old house creaked in the wind; doors rattled. Finally, I left my chamber and stole down the passage, my candle flaring in the drafty darkness. As I neared her door, I saw again the light lying over the floorboards, narrowing to darkness as the door shifted shut. Fear seized me so I could scarcely move, but I forced my cold limbs forward. As the door opened again I stood still, hardly daring to breathe, and looked through the gap.
She was in the same position, sitting on the floor with her back to me. How long she had been so, there was no way to tell. But I saw something that chilled my blood to ice.
She was making progress in sewing the pieces of the swanskin together. Two little scraps had been joined together to make a larger piece. As she finished sewing it, she held the mended piece up to admire her handiwork before laying it with the greatest care beside her. Every now and then a little moan would escape from her, as if at the enormity of her task.
I didn’t enter and confront her; I didn’t dare. I was the one who had destroyed the swanskin. I couldn’t prevent her from trying to repair it when it meant so much to her. I stood watching in a kind of fascinated horror, until my legs began to tremble.
Three nights more I found candlelight lining her door. The wind had died away with the end of the spring storms, and I had no more glimpses of her crouched and intent over her work, for the door stayed shut. I was tempted to lift the latch, but knew I could not do so quietly.
It came to the fourth night of my watching. I climbed wearily out of bed as soon as I thought the household slept. I’d forgotten to keep my candle burning, so had to fumble with the tinderbox. The darkness pressed around me in a stifling way. At last the flame was lit. I wrapped the coverlet about me and padded across the chamber.
But this night was different. I was about to close the door behind me when I heard the whispers.
I blew out my candle at once and froze where I stood. Down the far end of the passage by Leah’s door there were two figures holding lighted candles.
I knew them immediately. It was Doggett and Silas Seed.
XIX
Alone
At first light I strode to Doggett’s room and flung open the door. Only a greasy braid showed on the pillow. I flung the bedclothes from her huddled body and shook her violently. She gasped awake and drew away from me in terror, her rough, red hands across the front of her nightgown.
“You worm!” I hissed. “You’ve betrayed our mistress!”
She shook her lank head. “I never, Aggie!”
“You did! I saw you! You took Silas to her room!”
“I never! I never opened her door, I promise, only showed him the light.”
I brought my face close and she shrank back, her eyes darting everywhere, looking for escape. “What did you tell him, Dog? Tell me!”
“I told him she’d a dead bird in there with her. I did it for the mistress’s safety, Aggie. I thought Mr. Silas should know.” She stretched her eyes wide and virtuous. “He cares for all our souls.”
Something snapped inside me, and I slapped her hard.
She stared at me, shocked, and put her bitten nails to her cheek. I was ashamed as soon as I’d done it. I stared back at her, my anger draining from me. She was a weak, foolish creature, and I should never have trusted her.
“I asked that you tell nobody, Doggett,” I said quietly. “Was it such a hard thing to ask?”
She began to sob; her cheek flamed. After a moment of this doleful crying, I could bear it no longer. I put out my hand and awkwardly patted her shoulder. She looked up at me with eyes all bleary. “I never would have done it, Aggie, but he made me!”
“What do you mean?”
“I have to report to him end of each sennight. Tell him what’s goin’ on with the mistress, the servants and such. This time when I went and he asked me about Miss Leah …” Her shoulders heaved. “He knew I was hidin’ something. He sees everything, does Mr. Silas, like the Almighty.” She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “He’s so good it ain’t fair on the rest of us.”
“He isn’t a good man, Dog. He doesn’t behave as a believer should.”
“But he does penance for it without no one tellin’ him to. I’ve seen him on his knees all hours, prayin’ in his room.”
“You told him you’d found the feathers in the chest?”
She nodded.
“Did you tell him I’d cut it up?”
Her eyes slid away “I don’t remember.”
I gripped her arm, and she flinched. “You must remember, Dog. I won’t be angry anymore. But I must know.”
“I did tell him so, and that Miss Leah had saved the lot. But he made me, he brought the words from me.” She began to sob again. “Look.”
She pushed my hand away from her arm and rolled up her sleeve. On the inside of her bare arm there were red and blue weals striping the delicate flesh.
I was sickened. “He did that?”
She whimpered at the memory. “He held my arm down on the desk. I couldn’t pull away. Then he used his ridin’ crop.”
All day I thought about what I should do until my head ached. By the evening I’d made up my mind. Leah left the parlor after cards that evening, scarcely bothering to mutter a goodnight to me. I waited until I was sure she was safely upstairs. I did a token tidying as I waited, stacking the cards and putting them away in the bureau, picking up a book Leah had been reading before supper and tucking it under my arm to take to her chamber. Then I slipped from the room.
It was still daylight outside, for the evenings were growing longer, but the passages in Murkmere Hall were as shadowy as ever. When I reached the Master’s door I was relieved to see that Jukes had left for the night, though the wheelchair wasn’t in its usual place outside. I took this to mean that the Master had not yet gone to bed, and was raising my hand to knock when the latch was lifted on the other side and Silas came out.
He closed the door behind him and looked at me through half-closed eyes. I could smell cigars and alcohol on his breath, and he seemed relaxed, saying only mildly, “It’s late to see the Master.”
I showed him the book, privately asking the Almighty to forgive my lie. “He left this behind after he dined with us.”
Silas took it from me and looked at its spine. “A Theory of World Origins.” He shook his head. “It sounds blasphemous, doesn’t it, Agnes? It sounds as if it questions the Divinity. I hope you’d never look at such a book. Your soul isn’t as robust as the Master’s.”
I hoped fervently that he wouldn’t decide to return the book to the
Master himself. But he handed it back to me and dusted his hands to free them of any contamination. Those hands had wielded the riding crop, I thought, and my eyes were drawn involuntarily to the brushing movement of the long, fastidious fingers.
When I raised my eyes again he was watching me with his old heart-melting smile. “It’s a long time since we had one of our talks. The estate has been keeping me busy. I believe you’re making excellent preparations for the ball.”
“I do my best, Sir, of course,” I said primly.
“I must start taking the Prayer Meetings again. I’ll look forward to seeing you there.” And with a nod he was gone, the skirts of his velvet smoking jacket fanning out behind him.
I knocked, and as soon as I heard the Master’s “Enter,” opened the door and went in hastily, worried that Silas might return.
The Master’s chair was wheeled to the fireplace, where a small coal fire burned. Glasses and a decanter of brandy were set out beside him on a small table, and he was staring at the armchair opposite as if Silas still sat there, while he twirled an empty brandy glass between his fingers. On the floor beside him lay a pile of open ledgers and a magnifying glass. There was the bitter tang of nero leaf in the air; the curtains weren’t yet drawn, and late evening sunlight slanted through the windows, making a soft golden haze in the room, in which tendrils of smoke still curled.
I stepped closer, and he looked surprised to see me. He must have thought it was a maid who’d knocked. He wasn’t looking as well as he had at supper: his pupils dilated, the whites bloodshot. For all that Leah tried to prevent him drinking alcohol, it seemed he indulged when she wasn’t there — unless Silas had persuaded him to it.
He saw me glance at the brandy glass and muttered, “Medicinal, merely. Don’t tell Leah. I’ve these damned chest pains tonight. What is it you want, Agnes?” He gestured at the armchair on the other side of the fire, and winced. “Come, sit down.”
The chair still held Silas’s warmth, the cushions dented with his weight. It made me feel uncomfortable. “It’s about Miss Leah, Sir.”
He frowned. “What about Leah?”
I leaned forward, twisting my hands together and speaking quickly “I wouldn’t trouble you, but I’m worried about her, Sir. She’s found a swanskin by the mere. She intends to wear it to the ball, as a cape, perhaps. It could wake memories among the servants, Sir. There’s the old story. Some say it’s true.”
I saw the color flood darkly into his face. “What story?”
I took a deep breath. “That when they become human, the avia leave their pelts behind to return to later. I think the swanskin that Leah’s found is such a thing, Sir.”
The stem of the brandy glass snapped like a twig between his fingers, and the bowl bounced on to the rug. There was blood on his hand, but he looked so angry I didn’t dare go near him.
“I tried to destroy it,” I said nervously. “But she’s sewing it together at night, feather by feather.”
There was a long pause. I watched him pull a silk hand-kerchief from the pocket of his smoking jacket and dab his fingers. At last he said, more calmly, “If she’s making herself something for the ball, and wants to keep it secret, no matter. She’s going to surprise us with it.”
I persevered. “But you see the danger, Sir? What the servants may think? Silas Seed knows Leah works at something in her room.”
He shook his head stubbornly. “Silas is no gossip; he’s not even mentioned it to me.”
“But you don’t fear for Leah yourself, Sir?”
I was horrified to see his face blacken, his hands clench against his chest as he began to gasp. I rushed over to him.
“My medicine … ,” he said thickly. “Over there.”
There was a bottle with a little glass on a table in the corner, and next to it a crystal goblet half-filled with tiny brass keys. I seized them all up against my breast. I poured the medicine out first and gave it to him. I’d no notion whether the measurement were correct, but it was the amount I’d seen Silas give him; then I looked at the keys. They were numbered one to five, and on the bars that bound him the corresponding number was raised in the iron next to the keyhole. It was easy enough after that to match number to number and release him from his cage.
The bars were heavy. I laid them down in the grate one by one. When I turned to him the high color had gone from his face. “You’ve given yourself a terrible punishment with this prison, Sir,” I said gently. “Can’t you end it now?”
He flexed his fingers and stretched his arms. “Ah, that’s better, the pain’s gone. In some company I’m safest barred up, Agnes. I can’t trust myself. I believe my wife’s death half-turned my mind.”
“But you’re recovered now, Sir.”
“I don’t think so. The Protector and his men have kept away from me for many years. They don’t think it either.”
“Don’t talk, Sir, don’t agitate yourself.”
He ignored me; I wasn’t sure he saw me at all. He seemed to be meandering, murmuring to himself. “How could a young man so full of power and conviction tread the wrong path? And now he’s coming back here, my brother-in-law, the very person who thought I wasn’t fit to rule over my own estate, that it should be given to another Minister!” He looked at me, and I saw that after all his eyes were as alert as ever. “Should I forgive Porter Grouted, Agnes Cotter? Or should I be barred up like an animal during the ball in case I harm him?”
I did my best. “No, Sir. You must show him you are in control.”
He shook his head slowly. “But believe me, if he says that my daughter is not to inherit my land, I think I may well kill him. She must be accepted as my blood daughter now, my rightful heir. She loves this place as I do. She’ll look after it when I’m gone.” He bent his head. “I nearly killed Grouted once before, you know. He’s head of the state and I shouldn’t have raised my hand against him. I’m still a Minister, whatever I believe. I ought to respect him and his laws for the sake of the country’s peace. That’s hard, hard for someone who doesn’t believe in the anointment rite. Do you believe in it, Agnes?”
“We’re taught to in school,” I said, taken aback. “Isn’t the Protector a vessel for the Almighty’s will?”
He gave a bitter smile. “Wait until you meet Lord Grouted, and then tell me whether that is so.”
As the spring nights passed into summer, I would feel my way through the dense blackness of the passage to Leah’s chamber, not daring to take a candle for fear of being seen by Silas. Sometimes there would be light beneath her door, and I knew she’d be working on the swanskin.
During the day I would trail her down to the mere and lose her in the thick undergrowth. The path we used to take was overgrown now, and the stinging nettles were shoulder-high.
The cygnets had hatched, four ugly gray creatures with bent, wormlike necks. They moved rapidly after their mother through the small yellow lilies that were scattered like bright coins at the far edge of the mere.
The lilies put me in mind of the wages I was collecting each week and storing away for Aunt Jennet in an old sack, now clinking satisfactorily when I took it from my cupboard. The last time I had been in Silas’s room he had pressed an extra revere on top of the other two coins in my hand.
“I know you’re watching Leah, as I asked. I’ve seen you.”
I stiffened and tried to put the coin down on the desk but he forestalled me with his hand, wrapping it over mine. I shrank back from his touch at once, and he sighed.
“We’re on the same side, Agnes. We’re both trying to protect Leah. Any heir and future Minister must be protected until they come of age. That’s our duty, isn’t it, Agnes?” He leaned over the desk toward me. “Have you anything to tell me?”
His eyes were very bright and soft. They still had the power to make me weak, to make me believe he desired Leah’s safety as I did.
“I’ve seen nothing,” I said truthfully.
So through those long days before the ball Silas watc
hed me, I watched Leah, and Leah watched the Master. I knew she was anxious about him by the way she hovered over him at mealtimes, more solicitous and gentle with him than ever. She was worried that he’d not be well enough to entertain guests.
But it wasn’t only his health. I knew she checked the flying machine each day. I didn’t dare ask her about it. She hated me now; she knew I followed her to the mere. She knew, and yet she knew nothing.
“Why are you always watching me?” she stormed. “You’re just like the others — Silas and Dog — spying. What are you afraid I’m going to do? Grow wings and fly away?”
This was so close to the truth that I must have paled. She gave a contemptuous laugh and spat in my face. “You stupid dolthead, don’t you know I’d never leave the Master?”
That was small comfort for me compared with the pain of her hatred. Jethro, seeing me still so pale and quiet when we met next, gripped me through the bars of the gate and wouldn’t let me go.
“They’ll come looking for me, Jethro!” I hissed. “I can’t stay any longer. I have to play cards with Leah.” She’ll play cards with me to amuse herself, I thought sadly, but she won’t speak to me.
“Leah!” Jethro said in disgust. “Always Leah! Don’t you ever think of your aunt?”
“Of course I do!” I cried, stung. “I’m here for her sake.”
“And for Leah’s sake too, as you told me last time,” he said bitterly. “If you think of your aunt, what about me? Do you think of me?”
I stared at him in surprise, and he stared furiously back. “Jethro, I do think about you, indeed I do. I wish I could tell you …”
“What?” He pulled me closer against the bars.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Tell me.”
I looked nervously over my shoulder. After a fine day, a mist was blurring the edges of the drive. Though the keepers sometimes worked late through the light evenings, the long slopes to the house where earlier I’d watched the horses pull the roller mower were now deserted, the smooth grass silvered with an unmarked dew.
Murkmere Page 17