The trapdoor was open. I glimpsed a twinkling of stars in the sky above. I could hear the clashing of metal against metal. Grunts and gasps. I put my foot on the first step of the rickety little staircase. Stopped. The Clock Diamond. Something told me it would be a grave mistake to bring it up onto the roof. So I hurried into my bedroom. Looked about for a suitable hiding spot.
Only took a moment.
I raced to the dresser, pulled the stone from my pocket, and dropped it into the water pitcher. It landed with a satisfying plop and quickly sank to the bottom. Perfect!
I crawled through the trapdoor and stepped onto the roof (which wasn’t easy while carrying a large fire poker). The house had a pitched roof over the east and west wings and a flat one capping the great hall. Which is where I stood. The sharp clash of metal hitting metal charged the air. There, in the distance—Miss Always and Miss Frost. Around them were piles of smoldering cloaks. Miss Frost and Miss Always stood not three feet apart. There was a dagger on the ground at Miss Always’s feet. And a sword at her throat.
My first instinct was to cry out. To yell something devastatingly useful, like “Don’t do it!” or “Lower your sword, you diabolical fathead!” But I did neither. Instead, I sneaked up on them. Miss Frost had her back to me. Miss Always was remarkably brave. Her eyes were not pierced with terror. In fact, she didn’t look frightened at all. I crept along, stepping carefully over the joists in the slate roof. I noticed Miss Always glancing my way. But just for a flash. She was a smart one, Miss Always. She knew I had come to rescue her, but she didn’t give the game away.
“Why are you doing this, Miss Frost?” she cried suddenly. “I do not understand!”
This seemed to confuse Miss Frost. She said, “What game are you playing now?”
“I do not have the Clock Diamond,” said Miss Always frantically. “I cannot give you what I do not have. Please don’t kill me!”
“Kill you I must,” came the cold reply. “Though why you are acting like a damsel in distress, I cannot imagine.”
I was upon them now. Poised to strike. Just at that moment, Miss Frost seemed to sense my presence. She swung around. But too late. I brought the poker down upon her hand. The sword dropped to the ground. In a flash, brave Miss Always had scooped up the dagger at her feet and was bearing down on Miss Frost.
“Well done, Ivy!” she said.
Miss Frost raised her arms in surrender and began to back away.
“Don’t be a fool, Miss Pocket,” she said. “See what is right in front of your face. Your friend is not what she seems.”
“Watch her, Ivy,” said Miss Always, waving the dagger at Miss Frost. “She is a cunning beast. An assassin who wants the Clock Diamond for herself. She will do anything, kill anyone, to get it.”
“Miss Always is twisting the truth,” said Miss Frost. “It is she who would do anything to get the stone. I wish to guard it. She wishes to control it.”
Miss Frost took careful steps back, retreating from the dagger until she hit the stone parapet that ran around the edge of the roof. Miss Always lunged at her, pressing the blade into Miss Frost’s pale neck.
I fell in beside Miss Always and pointed my poker at Miss Frost. “Those hideous locks work for her, don’t they?”
Miss Always didn’t answer. But Miss Frost did.
“The locks do the bidding of the gatekeeper.”
“Is . . . is that what you are?” I asked.
She shook her head. “That is what Miss Always is.”
“Lies!” hissed Miss Always. “There is only one way to end her reign of terror, and that is death.”
I gasped. “You . . . you want to kill her?”
“It must be done,” said Miss Always.
“After she kills me, she has plans for you, Miss Pocket,” said the governess. “Horrid plans.”
My head was spinning. What was I to believe? Naturally, I trusted Miss Always. But I had never seen her like this. The woman I knew would faint at the sight of a wasp. Now she was eager to cut Miss Frost’s throat? It was baffling. Yet how could I trust Miss Frost? She was a villain.
“All these years, I thought it was my mother who put me in that awful place,” I said faintly. “But it was you, Miss Frost. You put me there.”
“The orphanage was clean and reputable,” said Miss Frost crisply. “I knew you would not be beaten or starved. That you would have shelter and food in your stomach.”
“It was beastly,” I whispered.
“It was an orphanage, Miss Pocket. I kept something of an eye on you over the years—always from a distance—paid for your clothes and certain privileges. I tried to ensure you got on in the world. Why do you suppose the Midwinters took you on as a maid?”
I gasped. “That was your doing?”
“I felt such a position would give you a decent future. I never imagined that you would find your way to Paris and end up with the Clock Diamond. If I could have stopped it, I would have—but by the time I traced the stone to France, the Duchess was dead and you were sailing for England.”
“What a remarkable coincidence,” said Miss Always with a mocking grin. “You happened upon Ivy and her mother while hunting the stone. Then Ivy happened upon the diamond in Paris. It would make a thrilling work of sensation fiction, though I doubt anyone would believe it.”
“It does sound rather unlikely,” I said to Miss Frost.
“And yet it is the truth,” she replied coolly.
“I believe your mother is alive, Ivy,” declared Miss Always. I was stunned! “She is probably still looking for you. We can find her together, you and I. We will travel all over England if we have to and leave no stone unturned. Do not be fooled by Miss Frost. She is a kidnapper and a killer. Who do you think tampered with the drawbridge signal, killing Mr. Banks? And who do you think plunged a dagger into the Duchess of Trinity’s heart? It was all her.”
Now, normally I am brilliant in a crisis. But I confess to a certain amount of confusion. Fortunately, a thought occurred to me. I turned to my friend. “How do you know so much about my mother?”
She didn’t answer. Not right away. At last she said, “I have been conducting some research into Miss Frost and her evil deeds . . . the information I gathered has been most shocking . . . this woman is from a faraway place . . . I didn’t want to tell you about it until I was sure, Ivy.”
“Her research is very hands-on,” said Miss Frost with a dry laugh. “She commits the crimes, then blames them on me.”
I needed to think. But there wasn’t time. For Miss Frost made her move. She pushed the dagger from her throat and ripped the poker from me in an instant. She spun around, swiping Miss Always’s hand, clipping the dagger. It twirled through the air. Now it was Miss Always who had her back to the wall.
I was about to charge at Miss Frost (it seemed like the heroic thing to do), but she looked at me and said, “Think, Miss Pocket. If all I wanted was the Clock Diamond, why would I encourage you to hide it? Would it not have been easier for me to overpower you and steal it days ago? Tracking the Clock Diamond is my job; murder is not.”
“She tore you from a loving home, Ivy,” said Miss Always, her eyes moving between Miss Frost’s weapon and me. “She destroyed your one chance at happiness. Haven’t I cared for you and tried to keep you safe? Ivy, can you really trust the word of a kidnapper over your bosom friend?”
It was suddenly so clear.
I thought about all that had happened since I had first met Miss Always. All that we had shared. All that we had spoken of. And for the first time, I saw the whole picture. All the pieces that I had been unwilling to put together. And it was monstrous. I looked at my friend and said, “Now that I think of it, you were fixated by the Clock Diamond from the very first. You were always asking me about it on the ship. And when we docked, you where terribly interested in where I would be staying in London. Well, the only person who knew where I would be, at the house in Belgravia, was you, Miss Always. And the night of the break-in, there was a woman in the shadows.”
“Miss Frost!” she shouted at me. “It was Miss Frost!”
I shook my head. “I saw you on the ship—your publisher never had a long-lost son, did he? You were conspiring with one of your locks. And tonight I saw those hideous creatures emerge from your dress. As such, I have no choice but to assume you are a diabolical, diamond-hunting, lock-loving lunatic. Which is violently disappointing.”
“Well done, Miss Pocket,” said Miss Frost, her eyes fierce with pride. “It took some time, but you got there in the end.”
Miss Always didn’t take it at all well. In fact, she was rather upset. She threw back her head and let out a murderous cry. The skin on her face began to ripple. Her eyes turned an inky black. Her neck puffed out like a lizard’s. Then a dozen villainous locks flew out from the folds of her dress. It was terrifying and spectacular, all at once. They swarmed around Miss Frost like a tempest. Clawing at her with icy talons. The poker flew from her hand. She fell back against the parapet. Miss Always raced across the roof and picked up her dagger.
Miss Frost began kicking and punching like a madwoman. She bent down, collected the poker, and ruthlessly drove the sharp end into the heart of each and every one of the locks. They seemed to crumble one by one before my eyes, collapsing in a pile of smoldering ash. All that remained were their cloaks.
“Ivy, watch out!” cried Miss Frost.
But too late.
Miss Always spun me around and pushed me against the parapet. A dagger pointed at my heart. “Where is the Clock Diamond, Ivy?” she said softly.
“Somewhere you’ll never find it,” I declared. “You were my friend, Miss Always. You said we were like sisters.”
“I already have a sister,” she said coldly. “Pushed her down a well when she was nine. Unfortunately, she lived.”
“You killed the Duchess, didn’t you?”
A mad kind of pride glistened in her dark eyes.
“How could you be so cruel?” I said. “I believed you, Miss Always. I believed in you.”
She smiled. With one hand, she pushed the dagger against my chest. With the other, she searched the pockets of my dress. “I apologize for lying to you, Ivy,” she said brightly. “Believe it or not, I fully intended to tell you the truth right before I killed you on the ship. But then I discovered you had tried on the necklace.”
“What has that to do with anything?” I snapped.
“Only everything.” Miss Always said this with wicked delight. “You became far more interesting after that.”
Miss Frost had retrieved her sword. She charged towards Miss Always, her weapon extended. But Miss Always stopped her cold. “One more step, and I will pierce her heart.”
“You can’t kill her, and you know it,” said Miss Frost evenly, inching closer. “Besides, without Miss Pocket and the stone, you have nothing.”
I felt the blade pierce my flesh. I didn’t cry out. But I wanted to.
“It is a half-moon, Ivy,” said Miss Always. “Do you know what that means?”
“Haven’t a clue, dear.”
“It means I can go home. And you shall come with me.”
“That will not happen,” declared Miss Frost fiercely. “The girl would not survive it.”
“Survive what?” I asked, rather anxiously.
“Do you recall the story I told you just the other day, Ivy?” Miss Always’s voice hissed like a rattlesnake. “The lost myth about the Dual?”
Yes, I remembered. Hidden world. Beastly plague. Millions dead. And a silly story about a girl who can pass freely between two worlds. A girl who would heal the plague, ascend the throne, and whatnot. I sighed. “What about it?”
She glared at me. “Can’t you guess?”
“Miss Always thinks you are the Dual,” said Miss Frost, her voice thick with doubt. “She is wrong, horribly wrong, but that won’t stop her trying to prove it.”
I looked at Miss Always. Of all the questions swirling through my head, I could only think of one. “Why would you think such a thing?”
Miss Always looked at Miss Frost and laughed. “Shall you tell her, or will I?”
Miss Frost was frowning. “The evidence is slight at best.”
“You are still here, Ivy,” said Miss Always, her eyes blazing. “That has never happened before in the entire history of the Clock Diamond. Is that not peculiar? Is it not thrilling?”
I had no idea what the halfwit was talking about!
“And it is written that the Dual will have healing powers,” Miss Always continued breathlessly. “Wondrous healing powers. Ivy, you held my wrist when it was sprained. Your touch healed it in mere seconds. I believed that it would, and it did!”
“It was wishful thinking and nothing more,” snapped Miss Frost.
“I’m afraid Miss Frost is right, dear,” I said, looking at the deranged lunatic. “After I heard you talking in the morning room, I tested my healing powers on Lady Amelia. I’m afraid I couldn’t even mend her pricked finger. So you see—I’m not even slightly miraculous.”
Miss Always was smiling. Didn’t look at all bothered. “The Dual has no power in this world,” she said gleefully. “She is a girl just like every other. It is only my people, from my world, that the Dual can heal. And heal me you did.” The bug-eyed fruitcake looked up at the dark sky. “We can cross tonight, Ivy. The process is easy enough. Come with me. Come and fulfill your destiny.”
It was bonkers. The whole thing. And yet . . . if any of it were even a tiny bit true, it might be rather lovely to cure a plague and rule a kingdom and whatnot. It’s not like I had anything better to do.
Miss Frost was now only a few feet from where Miss Always held me at knifepoint. She said, “You are tempted, are you not, Miss Pocket? Miss Always makes it sound rather thrilling. And why shouldn’t she—after all, what has she to lose? If you are the Dual, she would seek to use you as an instrument for power and control. You would be her puppet. And if, as I suspect, it turns out you are not the Dual . . .”
“What then?” I asked.
“I would bring you back,” promised Miss Always hastily. “I would bring you back to England, safe and sound.”
“She couldn’t, Miss Pocket,” declared Miss Frost, “for there would be nothing left of you. The journey between worlds would destroy an ordinary child. You would be torn limb from limb.”
Which was monstrously unpleasant.
Before I could decline Miss Always’s generous offer, Miss Frost swooped. Her sword sliced the air, came down with a spark upon Miss Always’s dagger. Miss Always spun around in a blur, swinging the dagger right at Miss Frost’s neck. But the governess ducked. Brought down her blade. Cutting Miss Alway’s hand as if it were butter.
Before the wound had even begun to bleed, Miss Frost had knocked the dagger from Miss Always’s hand and had her cornered. A sword under her chin.
“You are trapped, Miss Always,” she said, panting. “You cannot take the girl and get the stone and make your escape. You will die on this roof—I will see to it.”
“We cannot have that, now can we?” said Miss Always. She turned towards me, eyes ablaze. “Believe it or not, I have enjoyed our time together—but we shall have to postpone our journey. For now. But not forever.”
It happened quickly. Miss Always kicked Miss Frost rather expertly in the shin, pushed her aside, and leaped onto the parapet. She glanced back at me. Her smile was wicked. Then she stretched out her arms and jumped.
I screamed. Ran to the edge of the roof. Miss Frost fell in beside me. The moonlight cast the ground below in a silvery haze. I expected to see Miss Always tumble to her death. But she did not. Her skirt billowed around her. Her arms outstretched. She landed on the graveled driveway in a crouch, then rose to her feet with ease. She took off, running at speed towards a darkened carriage waiting by the wildflower meadow. The door flew open as she approached. She jumped in. The driver whipped the four horses, and they took off, vanishing into the woodlands.
Miss Frost grabbed my shoulders and held them tightly. “Miss Pocket, listen to me. Do not give Matilda the necklace. It can do great harm. Keep the stone, Miss Pocket. Keep the stone and go from this place. I will find you.”
“Find me? Find me where?”
“Do you trust me, Miss Pocket?”
“Of course not,” I snapped. “I have no idea what just happened. I have no idea who any of you really are. How did Miss Always jump from the roof and not break her neck? Where is this other world you keep talking about? What is happening?”
“The moment you put on that necklace, you entered a war, Miss Pocket. Now do as I say—take the stone and leave Butterfield Park.”
She let go of me and jumped onto the parapet, concealing the sword in a sheath fixed to her waist.
“Where are you going?” I shouted.
“To kill your friend.”
Then she jumped. I watched her fly through the air, graceful as a swooping eagle. Her hair came loose and fluttered in the wind like scarlet ribbons. She landed lightly and took off towards the stables. Moments later, a horse bolted out, Miss Frost atop it. She galloped into the woodlands and was quickly lost from view.
“Wait!” I hollered. “You know more than you are saying! Who was my mother? Tell me who I am!”
But my words died in the cold night air.
The guests were gone by the time I came down from the roof. All traces of the locks had vanished. I heard two maids gossiping on the stairs—apparently the ball hadn’t recovered after the business with the cake. The birthday girl had run up to her bedroom and locked the door, only coming out with the promise of a new horse.
The servants were clearing the great hall as I came down the stairs. A few of the maids gave me devious looks. As if the disastrous ball was all my fault. Perhaps it was. I was past caring about any of it. About riddles without answers. About friends who were really enemies. About a stupid diamond that shone like the sun, glowed like the moon, and teased you with visions. My mother was dead. And if the world wouldn’t give answers about who she was, then I would stop asking.
I had the Clock Diamond in my pocket and a job to do.
And I intended to finish it.
The family was gathered in the library. All except for Rebecca. Lady Elizabeth was stroking Matilda’s cake-crusted hair, whispering in her ear about how one day she would be mistress of Butterfield Hall. Then she would have the last laugh. Lady Amelia was pacing about, looking anxious. They all glanced up when I entered the room.
“I hate you, Pocket!” hissed Matilda. “I hate you and I wish you were dead!”
“Of course you do,” I said flatly. “Normally that would be a huge blow—but not tonight. I’m sorry for shoving your face in your birthday cake, Matilda.”
“I should think so!” snapped Lady Elizabeth.
“Didn’t I tell you, Matilda?” said Lady Amelia. “Didn’t I say Miss Pocket would be terribly sorry?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do it days ago,” I said. “Matilda, you’re a stupendously awful girl. You treat Rebecca with monstrous contempt. You browbeat and bully your mother. You bark at the servants. The one person you treat with any regard is Lady Elizabeth, and that’s only because she’s going to drop dead any moment—and you want to make sure she leaves this ghastly estate to you.”
“Have her flogged!” cried Matilda. “Somebody fetch me a horse whip!”
Lady Elizabeth used her cane to thump the table. Her beady eyes glowered at me. “Wicked girl! Pack your bags and get—”
“Don’t worry, I’m going,” I said. “But first there’s something I have to do.”
I reached into my dress and pulled out the Clock Diamond. It glowed in the palm of my hand—a twinkling of stars, a half-moon. Matilda eyed it greedily. Lady Amelia gasped in wonder. Lady Elizabeth licked her thin, shriveled lips.
“Someone told me tonight that I must keep the stone,” I said. “That I wasn’t to give it away. But as far as I can tell, it has brought me nothing but trouble.”
“Give it to me, Pocket,” ordered Matilda. “Hand it to me right now!”
I held out the necklace. It throbbed in my hand. Like a heartbeat.
“Take it,” I said.
I had my back to the library door. So I didn’t see Rebecca slip quietly into the room. She had a gift for moving about unnoticed. Which was how she managed to get so close to me. So close to the diamond.
Matilda grabbed the stone from my hand. It was a blow to be parted from it. But I did not let it show. Matilda held it up, her eyes swelling with wonder and pride.
“Oh, before I forget,” I said, “the Countess of Trinity had a message that went with her gift. She wanted me to tell you that the Clock Diamond came with the kind regards of—”
Rebecca ran at Matilda, snatching the Clock Diamond from her hand. Matilda screamed. Demanded the immediate return of her necklace. But Rebecca wasn’t listening. She raced up the spiral staircase to the balcony above.
“I have to do this,” she called, her voice shaking. “I have to try it on, just once.”
“What has come over you, Rebecca?” cried Lady Amelia.
“Give it back, you nutter!” hollered Matilda.
Perhaps I was still numb to what was really happening. The pieces of the puzzle were there. Yet I had not put them together.
But Lady Elizabeth was starting to. She gazed not at Rebecca, but at me. “The Duchess’s message—what was it, Miss Pocket? What did she wish you to say?”
In the confusion, my mind went blank.
“Come down this instant!” shouted Matilda, stomping her foot. “It’s my diamond, not yours!”
“I can’t,” said Rebecca softly. She unclasped the silver chain, gathering each end at the back of her neck. “It’s the only way, do you see?”
“The only way for what?” I said.
“The message!” cried Lady Elizabeth, thumping the table with her cane. “What was the Duchess’s message, you impossible girl?”
My gaze shifted from Rebecca to old Walnut Head. The answer she was seeking was somewhere in the fog of my mind. “She told me to say the Clock Diamond came with the kind regards of . . . of . . .” Then it came to me. “Winifred Farris. With the kind regards of Winifred Farris.”
Lady Elizabeth’s gasped. “No . . . not Farris. Dear god!”
I looked up at Rebecca. She was looking back at me. Only at me. She said, “I have to see her again. I have to see her and be with her, just like you did, Ivy. Tell Miss Frost I’m sorry.”
She let go of the necklace. It dropped and hung around her neck. The Clock Diamond glowed darkly. Then, a faint buzzing. A familiar buzzing. Charging and rippling through the air.
“Rebecca, no!” cried Lady Elizabeth. “It is a trick. Stop her!”
The stone’s black glow was smothered by a scarlet light. A pulsing scarlet light. Then yellow. Then red again. Rebecca stumbled. Reached out for the railing.
The buzzing was like a wasp in my ear.
“What on earth is going on?” snapped Matilda. “Cousin, give me that necklace now.”
“Take it off, Rebecca!” shrieked Lady Elizabeth. “Please, take it off!”
Now a bright mist churned and filled the stone. It was beautifully white, radiating from the diamond like a searchlight. An endless, perfect light.
Rebecca let out a piercing cry.
I was already running up the stairs by then. Calling Rebecca’s name again and again. By the time I reached the balcony, she had already fallen. The library was suddenly quiet. The buzzing began to fade. I dropped to my knees. Rebecca’s body had withered to a husk, as if her very life force had been pulled from her. Her face was a hollow shell. Her skin, bone dry. Her cheeks, hideously sunken. Her arms, little more than drooping flesh hanging from bones. Her eyes, a milky white. Her hair, brittle as straw. Her lips, yellow and curled into a grin.
It struck me as heartbreakingly cruel—the sound I heard in the deathly silence of that library. The ticking of the clock on the mantle. Each solemn tick counting the seconds and minutes since Rebecca Butterfield had run out of time.
