‘Where is Mrs Beal?’ asked Helena.
‘She’s seeing to the clearing up,’ said Effie.
Helena felt sorry to be leaving Mrs Beal to so much work. If things had been otherwise she would have overseen the servants as they returned the spare furniture to the attic and instructed them as they cleared the rooms, but she could not linger.
She helped herself to some rolls and chocolate, then sat by the fire to break her fast.
When she had done, she wrapped some food up for the journey: a piece of chicken, some bread and cheese, a slice of pie and a bottle of water; then she went upstairs and packed her few possessions. She checked the drawers and wardrobe to make sure that nothing had been forgotten, and looked under the bed, then closed her valise and set it by the door.
She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was nearly half past seven.
Throwing her cloak over her shoulders, she put on her bonnet and pulled on her gloves then, picking up her valise went swiftly down the back stairs. She had hoped to see Mrs Beal before she left, but time was moving on and she did not want to risk looking for her in case she bumped into Lord Torkrow.
She opened the side door carefully and looked out. There was no one about. She went out, closing the door behind her.
She hurried across the courtyard, looking over her shoulder as she did so to make sure she was not being followed. She had a dread of seeing Lord Torkrow or Miss Parkins standing at one of the windows, watching her, and she scanned them nervously, but, to her relief, there was no one there.
Her gaze reached the gallery window . . . and her heart almost stopped, for she was suddenly reminded of the fact that the castle was symmetrical. Every room had its counterpart.
So the galleries must be symmetrical, and the hidden room in the portrait gallery must have its counterpart in the long gallery.
There was another secret room.
Chapter Eleven
The enormity of the revelation froze her for a moment then, turning on her heel, she ran back to the castle. In the side door she went, up the stairs, along the corridor and into the long gallery. She walked along its length, her footsteps sounding loud to her ears, despite her attempts to walk quietly, and it was with relief that she reached the end. She dropped her valise, and then began to feel the wainscoting, running both hands across it. There must be a way of opening it, and she guessed it must have something to do with the embossing. She pressed the flowers and turned the grapes, and as she did so, she called out softly: ‘Aunt Hester! Aunt Hester! It’s me, Helena!’
But there was no reply.
She pushed the centre of a small flower, and it gave. She heard a click, and then a door in the panelling swung open. She took a deep breath and went in.
She found herself in a small room. There was a window to the west, but the grey light of morning did little to illuminate the chamber. The air was stale, and she wrinkled her nose against it. She stood motionless whilst her eyes adjusted to the dim light and then went forwards. As she did so, she saw that the room was empty, except for some blankets on the floor in the corner. There were no pictures on the walls, and the floor was bare.
She went over to the blankets, which had been arranged to make a bed. She crouched down next to them and turned them over, then she sat back, shocked, as she saw that, in between the folds was a piece of plaited lavender. She picked it up with trembling fingers. So her aunt had been here!
She shook the blankets, hoping to find another clue, and something fell out. It was a wooden soldier. She picked it up and examined it. It had been painted but the paint was coming off. It was evidently a much-loved and much-used child’s toy. But what had a child been doing in this room, and what had Aunt Hester been doing with him?
Could the child have been playing here, and could Aunt Hester have been looking after him? But why would anyone make a child play in a cramped, gloomy apartment? And what child could it be? Lord Torkrow had never married.
But his brother had . . .
A sliver of fear crawled down her back. Every dark thing she had ever heard about Lord Torkrow and every unsettling thing she had experienced since entering the castle, returned to haunt her. Had he been responsible for her aunt’s disappearance, and perhaps worse besides?
What had her aunt been doing in the secret room? Tending to the child? Or protecting him? Because if Lord Torkrow’s brother had been the older of the two, and if he had had a son, then the boy was the true heir of Stormcrow Castle . . .
Helena left the room, closing the door behind her. There was a click, and then it merged into the wall.
She abandoned her plan to leave the neighbourhood, for she knew she could not ignore what she had found. She feared that a terrible crime had been perpetrated at the castle, but who to tell?
Her mind went back to the costume ball, and the man dressed as Harlequin: Sir Hugh Greer, the local Justice of the Peace.
Helena made up her mind to visit him and lay the facts before him: that her aunt had gone missing, and that she had found evidence of her aunt and a child having been kept in a secret room in the castle.
He would know what to do.
She did not know where to find him, so first she must go to Mary’s cottage, for Mary would know where to find him, and might even lend Helena the trap to take her there.
She picked up her valise and went down the stairs, moving cautiously. It was nearing eight o’clock. She could hear the sound of the carriage being brought round. The crunching of the gravel under the wheels was like the sound of bones, and a new fear assailed her. She had delayed so long that, if she set off on foot, she feared she would soon be caught because Lord Torkrow would overtake her in the carriage.
A quick glance out of the front door showed her that he had not yet appeared, and hurrying through the hall, she reached the carriage before he came in sight. Its black body seemed ominous, and she was afraid of climbing inside, to be swallowed by the red interior, but she mastered her dread as Eldridge climbed down from the box.
‘His lordship has been delayed,’ she said. ‘You are to take me to Miss Debbet’s cottage, where I am to deliver a message. You will then proceed to the stage post alone and await his lordship’s instructions.’
‘That’s not what ’e said to me,’ said Eldridge, his dour face glowering suspiciously. ‘’e said I was to go to the stage, but ’e didn’t say nothing about no cottage.’
‘He has changed his mind. If you don’t believe me, then you must go and ask him yourself. He is in his study. But make haste! He has commanded me to deliver his message without delay.’
She climbed into the carriage. Eldridge looked towards the door, then at Helena’s impassive face, and gave a brief nod before folding the step and shutting her in. He mounted his box, and then they were away. She breathed a sigh of relief to think that one problem, at least, had been overcome.
The carriage seemed to crawl away from the castle, and she sat forward on her seat, willing it to go faster. At any minute she expected Lord Torkrow to emerge from the castle, shouting: ‘Stop!’
She was so fearful that she could not help looking back, but everything was quiet. The carriage rolled slowly on, through the arch, and then it began to pick up speed as it emerged on to the road.
She looked forward again, but her eyes did not see the moor as it rolled past. Instead they turned inwards, and she was consumed by her thoughts. What had really happened at the castle? Had Lord Torkrow tried to murder his nephew, and had Aunt Hester hidden the boy in an effort to protect him? If so, where had she gone? Had she taken the child with her? And was she alive, or were they both . . . She did not want to finish the thought.
The carriage turned off the main road and she recalled her thoughts from their dark paths. Ahead of her, she could see Mary’s cottage. Never had a sight been more welcome. She opened the door as the carriage rolled to a halt and jumped out. Eldridge looked surprised at her behaviour, but said nothing, merely closing the door behind her.
/> ‘Go on to the stage post and await his lordship’s further instructions,’ she said.
At least, if Sir Hugh had to force his way into the castle, he would find one less man blocking his way.
Eldridge looked dubious, but he nodded his head, and the carriage rolled away. As soon as he had gone, Helena went up the path and knocked at the door. It was early, but she hoped Mary would be awake.
She need not have worried. The door was opened by the maid, and she was shown in, to find Mary sitting in the parlour.
‘Mrs Reynolds,’ said Mary, standing up in surprise.
‘I am sorry to disturb you at such an hour, but I am in dire need of help,’ said Helena without preamble, afraid that at any moment there could be a knock on the door and that Lord Torkrow could walk in.
‘Whatever has happened?’ asked Mary in concern. ‘Has there been an accident? Is someone hurt? Are you ill?’
‘Please, have the trap readied. I will explain everything when it is brought round.’
Mary looked surprised but she hesitated for only a moment, and then she gave the maid instructions to see that the trap was brought round to the front door.
‘And tell Hobbs to make haste,’ she said, as the maid left the room.
‘Thank you,’ said Helena gratefully.
‘I do not know where you need to go in such a hurry, but won’t you have something to eat whilst we wait?’ said Mary. ‘I was just having breakfast, and you cannot set off until the horse has been harnessed. Some food will help sustain you on the journey ahead, wherever you are going.’
Helena accepted gratefully. She had already breakfasted, but it seemed a long time ago. Mary poured her a cup of chocolate and handed it to her with a piece of seed cake. Helena ate gratefully, then accepted a second cup of chocolate, but she left it half finished as she heard the trap outside. She leapt up.
‘I must go at once.’
Mary rose calmly and followed her into the hall, putting on her cloak.
‘I do not know what has happened, but I think you need a friend,’ said Mary. ‘I cannot let you go off by yourself. I am coming with you.’
Helena felt a rush of relief. With the groom and Mary beside her, she would feel much safer if Lord Torkrow should happen to ride after the carriage and come across her on the way.
‘I would be glad of your company,’ said Helena.
‘Then come, let us be off.’
Together they went outside.
‘Now, where to?’ asked Mary, as she followed Helena into the trap.
‘Sir Hugh Greer’s house,’ said Helena. ‘I need to see a justice of the peace.’
‘But isn’t Lord Torkrow the nearest justice?’ asked Mary with a frown.
‘Yes, he is, but I cannot speak to him. It is about him I have to lay a complaint.’
Mary looked surprised, and she seemed about to protest, but then she simply instructed the groom to drive to Sir Hugh’s house.
‘Now, don’t you think you had better tell me what this is all about?’ she asked, once they were safely on their way.
Helena gave a deep sigh.
‘There is so much I have to tell you.’ She could maintain the deception no longer, and she was relieved to be able to tell Mary the truth. ‘First of all, you must know that I am not Mrs Reynolds,’ she said, and then her story came pouring out in a rush.
Mary listened silently, and when the recital was over, she said: ‘So you think Lord Torkrow has hidden his brother’s son, or done something worse, so that he can rob the boy of his inheritance, and keep the title and the castle for himself?’
Helena could hardly believe it, when it was stated so baldly, but nevertheless, it was what she feared.
‘I am afraid it is possible, yes,’ she said.
‘It seems incredible,’ said Mary musingly. ‘And yet you found a hidden room, with your aunt’s plaited lavender and the child’s toy, and your aunt is definitely missing.’
‘Yes,’ Helena agreed. ‘You were concerned as well, weren’t you?’ she asked. ‘You were worried about my aunt? Your story about needing to return a book to her was a ruse, so that you could find out her forwarding address?’
Mary nodded. ‘It was. I thought, if you had an address for her, then I could find her. How did you guess?’
‘I knew the book could not belong to my aunt. She had never had much time for reading, and as far as I know she has never owned a book. Besides, she does not like poetry.’
‘Ah. I see. It was a poor story, but it was the best I could think of at the time. You do not blame me for the ruse?’
‘Not at all. I am grateful to you for it, and for trying to find her. I hope she is all right, but with every passing day and still no word . . . ’ said Helena anxiously.
‘Perhaps word has reached your lodgings?’
‘No, I asked for any news to be sent on to me here.’
‘Even so, things might not be as bad as you fear. Perhaps your aunt managed to escape with the child. If she needed to retreat to a place of safety, where would she go?’
‘I cannot think of anywhere,’ said Helena, as she turned her mind to this new possibility.
‘Does she have any relatives she could turn to?’
‘No, only me, and she did not come to me.’
‘But she must have taken him somewhere,’ said Mary thoughtfully. ‘Can you not think of anywhere?’
‘No. Unless . . . Mrs Beal mentioned that the old butler, Vance, went to live in Hull, when he and his wife retired. My aunt had worked with Vance before, and it was he who had recommended her for the position at the castle —’
‘Of course,’ said Mary. ‘Then that’s where she must have gone. Never fear, you will find her yet. Do you know exactly whereabouts in Hull the butler lives?’
‘No. I never thought to ask.’
‘Why should you? But it is of no importance. We will go there and seek them out. They cannot be hard to find. Someone will know of them by name, or of a woman and a child who are newly arrived in the town. You do not object to my plan? If you wish, we can continue on our way and consult Sir Hugh, but it is not certain that he will be at home, or that he will believe us. And even if he does, he might not like to move against a neighbour, particularly not one of Lord Torkrow’s standing. It seems to me that we would be better finding your aunt and the boy ourselves.’
Helena agreed. For the first time in many weeks she had hope. If only Mary was right, then she might be seeing Aunt Hester before the day was out.
They had travelled some miles across the moor, and were approaching The Dog and Cart. Mary suggested they should change the horse before going on.
‘We will ask for a hamper to take with us, too. We might be delayed on the journey, and it could take us hours to find the right address. It will be quicker if we eat on the road, rather than wasting time looking for an inn once we reach Hull.’
Helena agreed, and when they pulled up in the yard, Mary suggested that Helena go inside to order the food, whilst she made sure the horse was changed for a satisfactory animal.
Helena climbed down and went into the inn. It was a small but respectable establishment, and as she entered, the innkeeper came forward to greet her. She told him what she wanted, and he showed her into a private parlour until the provisions should be ready.
The parlour had a table and two settles, but Helena was too restless to sit down. She paced the room, anxious to be on her way again.
The innkeeper seemed to be taking a long time with the provisions. She went out into the corridor to find him, but as she did so, she was horrified to see Lord Torkrow walking in at the door.
She shrank back, wondering what he was doing there. Had he followed her, or was his presence there a coincidence? Perhaps he had decided to ride to the stage post when he had discovered the carriage was missing, and perhaps he had stopped at the inn to find if the carriage had passed. Once he had learnt what he wanted to know, she hoped he would be on his way again, but until then she
would have to stay out of sight.
She ran back along the corridor and slipped into the parlour. She listened intently, every nerve straining, but she heard nothing and began to relax. And then she heard footsteps coming down the corridor. They made an ominous clicking noise as they crossed the flagged floor, and stopped outside the door. But was it the innkeeper, or was it Lord Torkrow?
She saw the door knob turning, and, suddenly panicking, she leant against the door, but it heaved, and in a moment it was flung open. She was thrown back against the wall, but by good fortune she was hidden by the door. She saw Lord Torkrow stride into the room like a dark creature of the night, intent on finding his prey. Helena shrank back.
He looked round, and for a moment she thought he would not see her, but then his eyes alighted on her and he closed the door, revealing her.
‘So,’ he said menacingly. ‘This is where you are. Then it is as I had suspected. You took a post in the castle under false pretences. Well, your master will be disappointed. You will not be able to tell him anything.’
‘My master?’ she asked in confusion, wondering what he was talking about.
‘Or did you not see him? Has he remained in the shadows? Is it only Maria you have dealt with? Then you are fortunate. And I suppose it is possible, for she could pay you as well as he.’
Helena was perplexed.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said.
‘No?’
He took her arm and pulled her over to the window. She saw the trap, complete with a fresh horse. Mary’s coachman was climbing up on to the box, and Mary herself was already in the trap. They were ready to leave. She must go to them!
Pulling free of him, she ran for the door and wrenched it open. But then a sound from the yard gave her pause, a clattering on the cobbles, and turning her head she saw that the trap had set off without her. She ran to the window and in a lightning quick move, threw it open, and shouted: ‘Mary!’
Mary turned her head and saw her, but then she turned away and the trap continued across the yard.
Helena was dumbfounded. Why had Mary deserted her? Had Lord Torkrow paid her to leave? Impossible! Mary would not give in to intimidation or bribery, she was sure. But the trap continued, and turned into the road.