An hour or two past midnight, I finally crawled into bed. Yet try as I might I couldn’t sleep. Mr Spicer had been looking for someone to blame since his wife died. Now it was about to happen: a proper witch-hunt throughout Somerset, in which we’d all be given a part to play. Well, I wouldn’t do it. And I was certain Ellis wouldn’t, either.
When I finally did fall asleep, I was promptly woken by a rush of cold air.
‘What the …?’ Mistress Bagwell was standing at the foot of my bed in the dim light of early morning, my blankets in her hand. Under the other arm, chattering, was Bea.
I sat up groggily, thinking I’d overslept. ‘What hour is it?’
‘Never mind that!’ She glared at my night shift, at my skinny girl’s legs. The look on her face said it all. I felt badly ashamed that she’d discovered my secret like this; I was fond of Mistress Bagwell, and didn’t enjoy tricking her. Yet before I’d a chance to explain, she’d thrust Bea into my arms.
‘Master Ellis is missing!’ Now she was throwing my clothes at me. ‘Get dressed! We need to find him!’
‘Missing? How?’
‘He didn’t sleep in his bed last night.’ She gave me a stern look. ‘Mr Spicer’s already furious about the boy’s conduct at the party – and you’ll catch the blame for that. So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll find him.’
‘Oh mercy!’ I leaped out of bed, pulling on clothes.
‘I’ll alert Susannah. You start searching. Oh, and,’ she gave me Bea, ‘look after Miss Beatrice, will you?’
‘Can’t you? You’re better at it than I am.’ I tried to hand her straight back again, but Mistress Bagwell folded her arms.
‘It’s about time you did your share of baby-minding,’ she said sternly.
‘Because I’m a girl?’
‘Because you’re a member of staff in this house!’ she cried.
Though she was clearly angry, she did tie a sling for me so I could carry Bea more easily.
‘You look after her, mind,’ Mistress Bagwell said, kissing Bea’s head.
I nodded. I didn’t tell her I’d never held a baby in my life.
*
While Mistress Bagwell went to wake Susannah, I hurried downstairs. Bea was surprisingly heavy, her body humid and smelling slightly of cheese. She was also quite drowsy, which helped when it came to climbing down the ladders. By the time I’d reached the beach, she’d gone to sleep. It was a bright, sharp morning. The sky was patched with little clouds, the sea calm and moving lazily over the sand. Shielding my eyes against the sun, I scanned the beach in all directions. If Ellis was still at Berrow Hall, then this was where I’d find him.
If.
What he’d said last night about running away loomed in my head. Would he really take off like that, without a word to anyone? I dearly hoped not, for Susannah’s sake at least.
I went right down to the shoreline, scouring the sand, the rocks, the dunes beyond. There was no sign of him anywhere. Yelling his name woke Bea, who copied me, screeching ‘Eeeeeewwwwwwooooo!’ painfully close to my left ear. Then she wanted to get down and play in the sand, and when I wouldn’t let her, the shouts turned to tears. I jiggled her a little like I’d seen Susannah do, but it didn’t really help.
‘We’ve got to find him, grumpy guts,’ I told her. ‘There’ll be big trouble if we don’t.’
But once Bea started crying, I knew how hard it was to make her stop. In the end, I turned back for the house, resolved to bribe Mistress Bagwell into taking her again so I could search for Ellis properly. I was almost at the top of the beach when I sighted an odd disturbance in the sand. It was a series of flattened patches, as if someone had rolled over or fallen. And there, caught under a rock, fluttering slightly, was a yellow feather.
Ellis’s.
I was startled and relieved, for the marks in the sand were the sort he’d make when practising somersaults or tumbling. How long they’d been there I didn’t know. But as it was only a little past daybreak, and Ellis wasn’t an early riser, I guessed he’d been here last night. During the party. Before the players, with their songs and acrobatics, had packed up their boxes, loaded their wagon and trundled off into the night.
If Ellis wasn’t in the house or on the beach, then he could have gone with them. Or, said a dark voice in my head, perhaps some horrible accident had befallen him, as happened to my father all those years ago. This coast was unpredictable and wild. A boy out here in the dark might slip, or … I shook my head clear. No, Ellis was as fleet-footed as anyone I knew. If he was anywhere, he’d have followed his heart.
I picked up the feather. Somehow, I was going to have to explain what I’d found. What I thought had happened to Ellis. And though I felt low that I might not see him again, that Susannah and Bea might lose their brother, and me my job, I wasn’t sad. How could I be when I knew he’d be happier with a travelling theatre troupe than his bully of a father?
Bea had stopped crying. Her little hand reached out to touch the feather.
‘What do you think? Has Ellis gone with the actors?’ I asked her. I truly hoped he had; better that than being dragged into his father’s witch-hunt.
At the thump of footsteps, I looked up to see Susannah, still in her nightdress, coming across the beach. She reached us out of breath and agitated.
‘Ellis has run away with the players, hasn’t he?’ she cried.
‘It looks that way,’ I agreed, showing her the feather. ‘He mentioned leaving last night, but I didn’t think he’d do it this fast. Did he tell you too?’
‘No, he didn’t. This did.’ She shook her fist: in it was another piece of crewel work, covered in dark blue swirls. ‘It’s happened again, Fortune. I was working on this late last night after the party, and now it’s come true.’
I felt suddenly uneasy.
‘Show me,’ I said.
She smoothed out the piece for me to inspect. All I could see in the needlework were high, arching curves like a huge blue forest, or waves coming up the beach.
‘But today’s sea is calm as anything, so this can’t be right,’ I reasoned.
‘Here.’ She tapped the design where a tiny shape, topped with a flash of yellow, seemed to be fleeing the sea. ‘It’s Ellis. The needle moved by itself. I couldn’t stop it.’
I looked closer. There. She was right. It was a boy, running. I stepped back, slightly alarmed. It might be a coincidence – another one – but whatever it was, this thing Susannah’s needle did, it was a bit strange, a bit magical, and I dreaded to think what Mr Spicer or Dr Blood would make of it if they ever found out.
‘You mustn’t show this to anyone,’ I said. ‘Or tell them what the needle does. Promise me.’
‘I’ll hide it,’ she said, tucking it up her sleeve. ‘Though Father’s watching my every move.’
‘I mean it.’ I was firm. ‘Your father and Dr Blood want to send your work to the king. I heard them last night, discussing it. It’ll be dangerous for you if they do.’
She bit her lip until it whitened.
‘I can trust you though, can’t I, Fortune?’ she asked.
The truth was, I was concerned by how much she’d told me. But I felt so glad that she’d been able to.
‘To the grave,’ I promised.
Susannah almost smiled, before frowning at me. ‘My goodness, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you holding my little sister before.’
‘Mistress Bagwell made me. It’s not really helping matters, so I was heading back to the house. She may have news of Ellis by now.’
Susannah stiffened: she’d seen someone on the beach. ‘I believe that news is coming our way.’
It was Mr Spicer. From how he strode towards us – arms swinging, jaw set – he was clearly angry.
I’d have to face him sooner or later and explain where I thought his son had gone. Still, I hastily dropped the feather and covered it in sand.
‘Go,’ I whispered to Susannah. ‘You don’t need to witness your father tearing me to shreds.’
She shook her head. ‘We’ll face him together.’
I could hear her quick breathing, and feel my blood pound. Bea, her face squished into my chest, had fallen asleep again.
‘Susannah!’ Mr Spicer was a good thirty paces away when he started shouting. ‘Return to the house!’
She didn’t move.
‘I mean it!’ As he came closer he didn’t lower his voice. ‘I don’t wish to find you here, conversing with your brother’s servant!’
She stood her ground.
Mr Spicer stopped in front of us, thunderous. ‘Do you defy me? Your own father? Did you not see what a spectacle your brother made of himself last night in that preposterous hat? All because Fortune Sharpe didn’t do the job for which he’s paid.’
‘Ellis looked rather fine, Father.’ Susannah tried to calm him. ‘And happy. Your guests admired him.’
Mr Spicer was white with fury. ‘You, all three of you, made me look weak. But don’t worry, I’ve plans for you that will wipe those smug looks from your faces.’
‘I’m not taking part in any witch-hunt!’ I blurted out. ‘You can’t make me do it. Nor your children!’
‘Why, you pox-ridden toad!’ He made a grab for me.
I felt a rush of air as his arm swung back to wallop me. There was no loud slap. No stinging pain. Susannah stepped between us, blocking the blow.
‘Stop it, Father!’ she pleaded. ‘We should be considering Ellis, not fighting amongst ourselves!’
‘Go back to the house, Susannah.’ Mr Spicer jabbed a finger at her. ‘And find me your very best piece of needlework. That is an order.’
I wasn’t listening. I was staring at the shoreline.
Something was wrong with the sea.