Chapter 14

As Lizzie headed back to the show tent, with the moon rising over the distant moors, she heard Ma Sullivan calling her. ‘Lizzie! Need to borrow you for a minute.’

Ma had set up a long row of tables, with glasses and teacups borrowed from the castle and the water-boiler borrowed from the tea tent. ‘Interval in five minutes,’ explained Ma Sullivan, ‘and that lot inside are going to want refreshments. I need an extra pair of hands.’

Lizzie couldn’t very well say no. So she made tea and poured out glasses of lemonade clinking with ice, ready for the crowd, while craning her head round to get a look at the front of the castle in case some shadowy figure came sneaking up to it.

‘Keep your mind on the job, Liz,’ Ma Sullivan scolded her. ‘Here they come.’

Any chance of watching the castle vanished as a horde of excited people burst out of the tent, chatting among themselves:

‘Did you see the way he caught her? Like something out of a pirate adventure…’

‘Daddy, did you see the elephant? Did you, Daddy? Daddy there were elephants…’

‘Ooh, that lad, though, the French one … he can tightrope into my room any time!’

Lizzie forced herself to smile and greet people politely. For the next ten minutes, she worked hard serving refreshments and taking money from the grateful Whitby crowd. Eventually, the Maharaja himself came in for a glass of lemonade. He tipped her an extra shilling and stood by the stall chatting to the townspeople.

Lizzie did her best to eavesdrop, but he was just talking about the show. The first half had gone down well, by the sound of it. Maybe the locals would warm to him now, as he’d hoped. Although the kind of person who would throw a rock at you wouldn’t be likely to change their mind over a night at the circus, would they?

‘How’s her ladyship?’ Lizzie asked him when the crowds finally began to ebb. ‘She looked a bit peaky. Someone ought to check on her.’

The Maharaja drained his glass. ‘You’re quite right. She’ll probably be asleep, and I’ll get a flea in my ear for disturbing her, but better safe than sorry, eh?’

‘Better safe than sorry,’ Lizzie echoed.

The gong sounded, calling the audience back inside for the second act. Fitzy stood in the retreating tide of people, looking very proud of himself. He sauntered over to the stall where Ma Sullivan and Lizzie were mopping the sweat from their faces.

‘Done all right?’

‘You’re a sly old devil, Fitzy,’ Ma Sullivan said. ‘The Maharaja’s holding a free circus, and you go and charge people for drinks on the lawn outside.’

Fitzy helped himself to a glass without paying. ‘I can’t very well give ’em away for free, can I? Besides, we’re at the seaside. People expect to pay a little extra for their treats. All part of the fun.’ He frowned. ‘Speaking of paying, where’s our patron?’

‘Checking on her ladyship,’ Lizzie explained. ‘She had a fit of the vapours and had to go lie down.’

Fitzy checked a pocket watch. ‘Well, we can’t start the second act without him. He’s the reason we’re here.’

‘There he is!’ Lizzie pointed.

‘Something’s wrong,’ said Fitzy.

The Maharaja was running. His arms and legs pumped like pistons and his shirt-tails flapped behind him. He grabbed hold of Fitzy like a drowning man clutching at a rope. ‘She’s gone!’

‘My good man, calm yourself.’ Fitzy’s voice was pure authority. He took the Maharaja by the shoulders and looked right into his eyes. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘Lady Susannah,’ blurted the panicking man. ‘She’s been kidnapped. Taken from her bed. Everyone warned me about the Whitby curse and the ghost ship, but I dismissed it all as superstition…’

‘She couldn’t have just gone for a walk? To get some air?’

Gurinder Bhatti shook his head. ‘Her jewels are gone. There were dozens … whoever took her has stolen them too.’ His voice rose to a wail. ‘The Heart of Durga has been stolen! And my true love abducted!’

‘Oh Gawd, no,’ Lizzie said in horror. ‘I left her on her own.’

‘You were the last to see her?’

‘I wanted to stay and watch over her – I tried. But she wouldn’t let me. She forced me to leave!’

‘So why did you think she needed protecting, eh?’ Gurinder Bhatti brandished an accusing finger. ‘What did you know that you’re not telling me?’

A gunshot rang out, echoing across the gardens. The Maharaja jumped. He glanced around, but there was no sign of an attacker.

‘It came from over there!’ Fitzy said.

‘Johnson,’ Lizzie gasped. ‘He was guarding the castle with his shotgun. He must have seen someone.’

Fitzy set off at a run, and Lizzie and the Maharaja sprinted along behind him. Lizzie had the sinking feeling that they were too late. They’d find Lady Susannah’s lifeless body sprawled in Johnson’s beloved gardens. Or maybe she’d be found dangling from a tree. That rope around her neck in the vision could have been a noose…

They found Johnson holding his gun like a one-man firing squad. One of the barrels was still smoking. He was pointing it at Hari, who was pressed up against a tree, shaking with fear.

‘Don’t shoot!’ shouted Lizzie.

Johnson didn’t turn around. ‘Had to fire into the air to get your attention,’ he said gruffly. ‘Tell the Maharaja to get over ’ere. I’ve caught that boy again.’

‘I am here,’ yelled Gurinder Bhatti, ‘and we do not have time for this!’

Fitzy was livid. ‘Johnson, what are you playing at? Don’t you know what’s happened?’

‘Eh?’

Lizzie wanted to slap Johnson in his stupid jut-jawed face. ‘Lady Susannah’s been kidnapped, her jewels have been nicked, and you’re still persecutin’ Hari?’

‘He’s mixed up in this, whatever’s going on!’ Johnson insisted. ‘I saw him sneakin’ out of that big tent and scurrying about in the gardens. He’ll soon tell what he knows, if you let me beat it out of him.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ Fitzy said. He gripped Johnson’s arm and forced the shotgun down until it was pointing at the ground. Lizzie hadn’t known he was so strong – or so brave. ‘Hari, explain. Quickly, now. What were you doing out of the show tent?’

‘I went to the ice house,’ Hari stammered.

‘Why?’

‘The animals were overheating. I thought if I put ice in their drinking water, it would help cool them down. See?’ He lifted a bucket full of ice chunks.

‘Let the boy go, Johnson,’ the Maharaja said. ‘Now, Miss Brown, I beg you, tell me everything you know. My fiancée’s life may be in your hands.’

Lizzie quickly explained what she’d seen in her visions: the laughing man about to plunge a sword into Lady Susannah, and the hideous image of the lady tied up and begging for mercy. ‘I tried to warn her, Fitzy,’ Lizzie finished. ‘You know I did.’

The Maharaja flailed his hands in complete despair. ‘But who would do this to her? She must have had enemies – someone from her past.’

‘And she never told you?’ Lizzie asked.

‘Never. She did not like to speak of her past at all. She said that all that mattered was our future together.’

‘Gentlemen,’ declared Fitzy, ‘we must act immediately. We have to assume her ladyship is still alive, otherwise we would have found her body by now. I expect her abductor is holding her hostage, to give himself insurance as he makes his getaway.’

‘Yes!’ Gurinder Bhatti exclaimed, though Johnson looked grim and doubtful. ‘Saddle up. We will give chase. Johnson, you search to the west, in case they have taken the road towards the moors. Fitzy, come with me on the coast road. The kidnapper may be making for the harbour.’

‘What about the second half of the circus?’ Lizzie said. ‘It’ll have to be cancelled!’

‘Not a chance,’ Fitzy answered, with a determined look in his eye. ‘It’ll be easier to hunt the villain down if most of the townsfolk are kept here. But the circus does need a ringmaster … Hari, take a message for me.’

‘To Malachy?’

‘That’s right. I think you know what to say. Gentlemen! To the stables!’

As the three men ran to fetch horses and Hari ran to deliver his message, Lizzie stood alone on the lawn, looking forlornly up at the castle. Somehow, despite her best efforts, some evildoer had crept inside and made off with Lady Susannah.

A cold chill gripped her heart. What had Elsie said about the ghost ship? When it came to harbour, the old legends said, it made off with a living soul. Johnson was local to Whitby. He knew the stories, just like Elsie did. No wonder he’d looked doubtful – he never expected to see Lady Susannah alive again.

Perhaps the shadowy abductor wasn’t someone from her past, but from the world of the drowned dead? Lizzie thought of the hooded figure standing at the helm of the ghost ship, with two bright gleams in its hood. As she did so, a shivering feeling crawled over her whole body. A vision was coming. A powerful one.

Hari came running back from the show tent. ‘Can you believe it? Malachy’s going to be ringmaster for the second half! He’s been waiting all his life for this … wait, what’s wrong?’

‘Havin’ a vision,’ Lizzie croaked. Like a woman in the throes of a fit, she twisted and shuddered – and found herself staring out to sea.

The crystal-clear vision showed the future. Lady Susannah was alive, but fighting for her life. There were cobwebs in her hair and her lovely face looked terrified. She was on a small boat, trying to fight off someone Lizzie couldn’t see clearly.

Lizzie fell, gasping, to her knees on the soft lawn. ‘They’re headin’ to the harbour,’ she panted. ‘He’s going to take her out to sea on a boat, then kill her.’

‘Probably planning to dump her body overboard,’ Hari said darkly. ‘Where are they now?’

‘I dunno. But they aren’t on the boat yet, because that vision was definitely in the future. So there’s still time to stop him!’