Ella
Weaving together the web
Lieutenant Bain excused himself to help Charlotte with the washing up. He stacked the laden trays and left the library humming “It's a long way to Tipperary,” and I briefly wondered if he was thinking of the sweetest girl he knew. As the library door snicked shut, my mind returned to the issue of witches. I digested the new information and then grasped a tenuous strand of spun silk. The web began to make a pattern I could discern, and this particular fibre could hold the missing patch in a larger question.
I turned to Reverend Mason, the idea still spinning in my head. "Are you able to trace genealogies?"
His eyes lit up and he rubbed his hands together. "Of course. Nothing the clergy likes better than to keep records of births, marriages and deaths. Or hatched, matched, and dispatched, as we say. What did you have in mind?"
"Sarah Wynn and Anne Oakley, can you trace their maternal lines to the current generation?" A persistent niggle in my mind refused to go away. How did Elizabeth know about Millicent? I no longer believed in coincidences, and Mr Mason's talk of the region always having a historian triggered a childhood memory. I would curl up in my mother's lap as she told me stories of her mother and grandmother before her. What if Elizabeth learned of Millicent in the same way, as oral family history passed down mother to daughter?
A shiver ran down my spine. If that were the case, then events had been set in motion years ago, long before the Great War ended and the Grim War began. Step-mother's plan might have involved more than nabbing a duke for Louise. What if she arranged events to unite the bloodlines of two witches, or bring back Millicent herself? Which then left the question of the third witch and her descendants.
The reverend ran a hand over a clean-shaven chin. "It will take me a few days to comb through the records, but I shall make it a priority."
Small things delighted me, like seeing him take a care in his appearance again. He was a learned man and we needed his counsel. His knowledge was no longer locked away in a traumatised mind.
"Thank you. We still have the mystery of the missing Millicent. Why would her coffin contain a sack of stones?" Each day I stood a little steadier on my feet in my role of civilian adviser to the War Office. I learned from Seth's example and began to delegate the raft of tasks before me. There came a point where you had to trust the people around you.
I looked to Seth, hoping he could supply the missing answers about the duchess. It was his family; perhaps this skeleton was literally stuffed in a closet in the stately home.
He stretched an arm out along the sofa behind me, and his fingers drummed on the jacquard upholstery. I wanted to curl into his warmth as he spoke, but that wouldn't be appropriate in the reverend's study. Instead I leaned back so Seth brushed my skin as he tapped a rhythm with long fingers while he thought.
"Her resting place looked undisturbed, nor did the lid of the casket appear to have been opened before us. Although time might have eroded the signs if it happened decades ago." Seth's movement stilled. "I suspect that Millicent never rested in there, that someone swapped her body for the sack of rocks at the time the lid was placed on the coffin."
"One of her loyal followers may have taken her body to conceal elsewhere. Particularly if they thought she would revive." Mr Mason closed the large book before him and pushed his chair away from the desk. He rose to stand at the window, looking out onto a tangled and wild garden. You could lose yourself in the brambles beyond his window.
"She's still in the house," I whispered. It was the only thing that made sense. It explained the eerie atmosphere in the original wing, the stories the servants told, and the lack of spiders. Everything kept circling back to Serenity House, or did the old home lie at the centre of this plot?
Seth raised his eyebrows. "Anything is possible I suppose, but I rather think someone might have noticed her over the last three hundred years."
"Ah, but have you peered behind every stone and every timber?" Mr Mason asked, turning from his inspection of the neglected garden. "Old houses always have a plethora of hiding holes, often right before your eyes or under your feet."
"Quite." Seth's gaze turned to me. "I think it's time we opened all the shutters in the old wing and gave it a good air out."
There went my afternoon plans. Instead of putting my feet up in the library, I would be entering Millicent's lair while the painted eyes of her and her pet raven followed my every move.
There was still one teeny thing worrying at me like a dog with an old bone. "Reverend, what happens if Millicent is woken up? How do we defeat her?" Elizabeth had walked our earth and been Turned by another queen's blood. Removing her head and burning her remains had returned my step-mother to whatever lay beyond death. But Millicent had slumbered for centuries, assuming we could even find her corporeal form.
Mr Mason tapped the side of his nose. "I am pursuing a line of enquiry to answer just that question. We must battle witchcraft with a similar force, and I happen to know a few powerful servants who fight for good."
He showed us to the door as Charlotte and Lieutenant Bain emerged from the kitchen. I folded Charlotte in a brief hug and promised to visit her more often. Outside, the lieutenant slid into the front of the motor next to Frank.
"Do you think the church has spiritual warriors who have battled demons throughout the centuries?" I pondered the reverend's words about knowing servants who fought on the side of good.
Seth glanced at me as he held the door open. "Undoubtedly. The Knights Templar spring to mind; they were warriors for God."
I couldn't decide if the answer reassured me or not. Just a couple of years ago, I lived in a world that was easier to understand. We fought a flesh and blood enemy who had families they loved at home, just like us, worrying about their welfare. Then the world turned upside down. Creatures from dark fairy tales manifested themselves as real, and we sought the guidance of a priest to aid our battle.
Back at Serenity House, Warrens greeted us at the front door. Seth slapped him on the shoulder. "Prepare for an expedition, Warrens. We're opening up the original wing and searching for any sign of Millicent."
"I shall gather lanterns, your grace." He nodded and retreated down the hallway.
As we assembled by the hidden door in the dark panelling, I cast my eye over our strange group. We were a mix of curious footmen and intrepid soldiers. All clutched at least two lanterns and carried some form of weapon. I wasn't convinced a pistol would be any good against Millicent, assuming we found where she slumbered. Briefly, I wished I had asked the reverend for some holy water to throw on her.
Warrens appeared with a crowbar and handed it over to Seth. "For prising up floorboards, your grace."
Frank stood at Seth's side. Alice watched from the back of the group. Her amber gaze rested on Frank with a slight worried pull to her brow. It appeared that after their escapade in London, those two were making amends.
"Coming along?" I asked her.
She snorted and shook her head. "Being trapped in the catacombs with all those Turned cured me of exploring, thanks very much. Take care you don't wander off on your own."
"Everybody ready?" Seth glanced around and then activated the lever that revealed the hidden door. A puff of stale air escaped like a woman sighing as the old wing exhaled.
Warrens moved a hall table with a marble top and used it to prop the door open.
We filed through the door and across to the ornate staircase. Frank walked to what appeared to be a solid wall and hauled open a shutter. A tall, narrow window was revealed next to the base of the stairs. A brilliant shaft of sunlight spilled over the floor and caressed the griffin balustrade.
"Where shall we start?" I asked Seth, my hand on the eagle head of the carved animal. I already knew, but needed to say something to break the eerie silence. Even the scuffle of boots seemed reduced to no more than the scurry of mice feet.
Seth placed one foot on the bottom stair and glanced to the floor above. "The most obvious place, Millicent's chambers. We can move out from there."
As we ascended the stairs I cast my lantern over the wall, searching for more shuttered windows. But I found none. "It's so dark."
"There are only a few windows in the original house. Glass was expensive in Tudor times. The solarium has the biggest windows. Noble wives spent much of their time ensconced in there," Seth said from my side.
I tried to imagine Millicent sitting in the solarium, surrounded by her women as they did needlework or played music. Did they fill the day by discussing plots to do away with their husbands, or had her women never known the truth about her? "What a dreary life. Most of these rooms are so dark, shut away from the sun."
Our footsteps seem to echo on the bare boards of the stairs. "Thankfully the main part of the house was constructed in Georgian times. Architects had discovered large windows and natural light by then."
We reached the landing and a footman pulled back a narrow shutter that mirrored the one below. Another shaft of light lit the way, like an arrow pointing in the direction we should take.
We dropped lanterns at regular intervals, illuminating the dark floorboards where no natural light could reach. We passed dour ancestors and the occasional one with a smile painted in their eyes. Then we reached the portrait that stood alone. Shunned by the others.
Millicent deMage.
Was there a glint in her painted eyes, a challenge perhaps or a dismissive laugh at our feeble attempts to push her back? Even her raven peered down its beak at us.
"It's this one," Seth said, walking to a door whose knob I had once rattled.
I expected him to pull an ancient key from his trouser pocket. I didn't expect him to wedge the crowbar in the door jamb and push until the wood cracked. Splinters fell to the floor.
"No key?" I asked. It was out of character for Seth to go straight to brute force.
He pushed the door open and reached around and a metallic rattle came from the lock. He held up a large brass key to the light. "Locked from the inside. This door stymied Frank and me on our youthful explorations."
I didn't want to think about the door too much. My overactive imagination conjured a loyal retainer locking themselves in with the prone form of Millicent. Curiosity warred with horror at the thought of finding her slumbering on the bed.
"After you." Frank gave a formal bow as he gestured with his arm for me to follow Seth.
"It's not so gallant when I know you're using me as arrow fodder," I whispered to him as I walked through after Seth.
My lantern made ghosts of sheet-covered furniture. Arms extended to shout boo as we passed. I ignored them as I walked to the opposite wall. Setting down the lantern, my fingers found the edge of the shutter. Seth found the companion one and we both pulled them back at the same time.
An eerie twilight crept into the room, the bright sun outside muted by the layers of dust on the outside of the thick glass. A large bed dominated the room with twisted wooden posts that were wedged against the ceiling. Heavy, tapestried drapes enclosed the bed. A vine worked in gold climbed all over the blood red fabric. I pulled the sword free of its scabbard as Seth grabbed the edge of curtain. He flung it back and we all stared at the enormous bed.
"She's not here." My voice dripped with my disappointment.
Seth glanced at me, humour twinkling in his grey eyes. "I did say I thought someone would have noticed her over the last three hundred years if she was still slumbering in her bed. This wing was used up until last century."
The footmen threw back the dustsheets, revealing all the furniture. One shape with a rounded top called to me. I grasped the sheet and flicked it away to reveal a glass dome, but it was what sat within the glass prison that made me take a step back. A raven. Black feathers gleamed in the low light. Its feet curled around a short branch trapped with it. Its head was tilted slightly to one side and it peered at me, an unspoken question in its eyes.
"Is it hers?" I asked Seth, my gaze fixed on the taxidermied bird.
His warm breath feathered over my neck as he stood behind me. "Possibly, but I've never seen it before. Frank and I never made it into here, despite our best efforts to open the door."
"As long as it doesn't move, or I'm smashing the dome and taking off its head," I muttered. Did she have the bird stuffed to join her in the afterlife, or the undead one?
We searched every nook and cranny of Millicent's suite. One man went under the bed, we pulled out armoires to look behind and even turned over the mirror, searching for hidden doors.
"On to phase two," Seth said, brandishing his crowbar. "First we check if there's any space between the floors. Then we'll check all the walls."
We worked until the outside light began to fade, but we found nothing. Not even a priest hole, and certainly no hidden passages or secret chambers. I swear as the birds all flew to the hedgerows and trees to roost for the night, I heard a raven crow in laughter. Millicent's bedchamber now looked like it survived a renovation by incompetent builders. Floorboards were prised up, wallpaper was ripped and scattered over the floor. Ancient plaster dribbled dust from holes torn in the walls.
"She's here. I can feel it in my bones," I said. We just needed to find where they hid hers.