4

It didn’t work.

The girl’s body stayed lifeless. Finally, Mrs Shelley sat back exhausted. The only noise was the crackle of the fire and outside, the storm grumbling around the mountains. Through the windows lightning flickered blue, then white. Heavy with despair, Felix tried to rouse himself to fetch brandy for the shock, a sheet to cover the body. But he’d fallen into a sort of trance.

How mad to think a dead girl could be brought back to life! What on earth were those scientists thinking of, making people hope like that, making Mrs Shelley believe? For a moment there, he’d almost fallen for it himself.

‘Let’s lay her on the chaise longue,’ Mrs Shelley said.

‘Yes, Mrs Shelley.’

‘For heaven’s sake stop calling me Mrs Shelley!’

Felix blinked. But he was the servant – he always called her by her proper title.

‘Don’t look so put out,’ she muttered. ‘Percy and I are not married. So really I’m Miss Godwin. Mary Godwin.’

‘But on the invitation it said Mrs Shelley.’

‘That’s just for appearances.’

‘Oh.’ He was still confused. So the Shelleys weren’t husband and wife but two people who lived together and had children. He’d not realised people did that. So many rules were being broken tonight, he was struggling to keep up.

‘Please, call me Mary,’ she said.

‘Mary.’ Felix nodded. It sounded daring, and he liked it.

Together they lifted the girl onto the chaise longue. In the candlelight, she looked about fourteen, he guessed. Her eyelashes were stupidly long, and she’d a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. It was a nice face, the sort that would be missed, and it vaguely reminded him of someone.

‘Shouldn’t we fold her arms over her chest?’ Felix asked, because that’s what he’d done when Mother died.

‘Would you do it?’ Mary said. ‘I don’t think I can touch her again.’

‘Very well.’

Lifting her right arm, Felix laid it across her body, then did the same with her left. The muscles hadn’t yet set. Nor had her skin cooled, which he supposed was due to heat from the fire. She still wore a pair of clogs that had rubbed her heels raw. He slipped them off gently, and seeing her toes so grimy with dirt made him sad.

‘I’m going to fetch water to wash her feet.’ Then he saw the look on Mary’s face. ‘What’s wrong?’

Mary pressed her hands to her mouth.

‘My goodness. I think I know her!’ Forgetting her desire not to touch, Mary reached forward to smooth the girl’s hair from her neck. In doing so, she again revealed the scar. ‘I’m sure it is … I know that mark … and yet it’s hardly possible she should come all this way!’

All this way?

So the girl wasn’t local, then. This much Felix understood, for she wasn’t dark like the Italians or flaxen-haired like the Swiss and both lived up here in the mountains. No, this girl was as freckled as a hen’s egg. Yet still she felt familiar, somehow.

‘Why would she come here?’ Felix asked.

Mary didn’t answer. Her mouth fell open.

‘Goodness!’ she cried. ‘Look!’

The girl’s arms had dropped to her sides. Felix frowned. Now he’d have to arrange her all over again, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to, not when she felt so unexpectedly warm.

Then he realised. Something was happening.

The girl’s feet twitched. The lump in her throat bobbed up and down. Her eyelids trembled, then opened. Felix felt his own jaw drop. Mary cried out, sinking to her knees to take the girl’s hand.

‘She’s alive!’ Mary cried. ‘Felix, look! She’s alive!’

Felix was looking. Not just at the poor dazed girl, but at Mary herself. It made him catch his breath.

‘We saved her,’ Mary said.

Tears ran down her cheeks. She was thinking of her baby, Felix thought, who she’d lost then dreamed of warming by the fire. In the confusion of feelings that tore through him, his eyes misted over. There would always be those who couldn’t be saved.

*

The girl revived quickly, though she was very weak; she’d clearly not eaten for days. Once they’d propped her up against cushions and tucked a blanket over her legs, Felix warmed brandy and milk at the hearth.

‘Ta very much.’ Speaking huskily after she’d downed the drink, the girl held out her cup for Felix to refill. This time she gulped greedily.

‘Slow down!’ Mary said. ‘Or you’ll be sick.’

On hearing Mary’s voice, the girl froze. Very slowly, she lowered the cup from her mouth. A line of milk clung to her top lip, yet she looked deadly serious.

‘I found you, miss,’ she said.

Outside, the thunder grew loud again. A fresh squall of rain rattled the windows, making the room feel darker and colder.

Mary peered closely at the girl. ‘I do know you, don’t I?’

‘You do, miss. You know my sister too,’ she said, growing agitated. ‘I’ve come all this way to find her. It’s taken me weeks, but I’m here now and if you’ve so much as harmed a hair on her head, I’ll …’

‘What is this nonsense?’ Mary interrupted. ‘For goodness’ sake calm yourself, child!’

Glancing between them, Felix was suddenly confused. So Mary really did know the visitor. And the girl just mentioned a sister?

The girl wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked nervous, unable to meet Mary’s gaze.

‘You came to Somersetshire in England, miss, to a place called Eden Court, you’ll remember?’ she said.

As she talked, Felix heard the strangeness in her voice, the ‘r’ sound lingering on her tongue. He didn’t know these places she spoke of, but Mary obviously did, for she stiffened.

‘Of course!’ Mary said. ‘We visited Eden Court a few weeks ago, before we left for Europe. Francesca Stine is an old friend. There are so few women scientists in practice. She’s quite incredible. So many ideas! Such a brilliant mind!’

The girl recoiled. ‘That’s not all she is, either.’

‘Yes, I remember you being there,’ Mary said, as if she hadn’t heard. ‘It was the night of that big storm, wasn’t it? We had to leave suddenly because …’

‘Your father came looking for you, miss.’ Now it was the girl’s turn to interrupt. ‘And I was mighty glad he did, let me tell you.’

Mary’s smile faded. ‘I don’t believe we need speak of that now.’

‘Maybe not of that, miss,’ the girl said. She’d grown pale again. Her fingers fidgeted against the sides of the cup. ‘But there’s plenty else that needs saying concerning my sister. Please, tell me she’s safe.’

Felix frowned: this was getting more intriguing by the minute.

Mary seemed confused too. ‘I don’t understand. At Eden Court, you were a servant, weren’t you?’

‘Not exactly, no.’

She didn’t look like a servant, not to Felix. She wasn’t coarse-featured like Agatha. Her hands weren’t chapped either, but her nails were dirty and her arms, though thin, looked strong. Her frock was a size or two too big. And those clogs that didn’t fit might once have belonged to someone else.

‘My name is Lizzie Appleby,’ the girl said, taking a long nervous breath. ‘I live in Sweepfield, the village near to Eden Court, and …’ Her voice trembled. ‘I had to come after you! I couldn’t bear to think of what you might do!’

‘But how did you find us?’

‘That night at Eden Court you were talking amongst yourselves, of this place called Diodati. I remembered the name – I don’t reckon I’ll ever forget it.’

A great flash of lightning silenced her. The girl called Lizzie buried her face in her arms. She seemed suddenly terrified.

Felix shuffled his feet. He wanted to help but didn’t know how. In the end he crossed to the table, piling bread and meat onto a plate. He didn’t suppose Lizzie Appleby would eat much with her head in her arms. But at least he could try.

Once the thunder and lightning passed, she lifted her head and wiped her face in her hands.

‘Here, Lizzie.’ Felix offered her the plate of food. She didn’t take it, so he placed it gently in her lap. She looked up. Just once. Then her gaze slid away again. He wondered if there was something wrong with her eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lizzie said. ‘’Tis the lightning. It scares me so.’

His gaze flickered briefly over the blemish on her neck. Again, he wondered how she’d got the strange mark. But he knew better than to ask; scars sometimes meant there was a story too private and painful to share. Mary cleared her throat. ‘Now, what’s this about a sister?’

‘My sister, miss. She’s mine. And you took her against her will.’

Felix stared, appalled.

‘What do you mean? I did no such thing!’ Mary said, indignantly.

‘What makes you think she’s here with Mary?’ Felix asked.

‘I took no one without permission,’ Mary said.

Felix glanced at her. She looked like she always did: cool. Thoughtful. Only this time her jaw was set tight.

‘I was told she was an orphan, with nowhere to go – I thought we were being kind …’

‘Kind?’ Lizzie laughed in disbelief.

Mary breathed deeply again. A red flush was creeping up her throat.

‘Felix! Do stop hovering and sit,’ she snapped.

But he’d never sat in an above-stairs room before. This was another rule about to crumble to dust. ‘Sit where?’

Mary clicked her fingers at a nearby chair. Awkward though it was, Felix did as he was bid, and prayed Frau Moritz wouldn’t walk in and see.

‘This sister you speak of,’ Mary said, her composure regained. ‘I was told she had no proper relatives. No one cared for her. The locals had shunned her.’

‘Who told you this?’ Lizzie asked.

‘Why, Miss Stine, and the girl herself.’

‘My sister doesn’t always tell the honest truth, miss.’

Mary blinked. ‘Well, I believed her. She was distraught. She needed a fresh start away from Sweepfield. I’ll admit she took some persuading to come with us at first, but she’s seen sense now and we’re happy together …’

‘So she’s safe?’ Lizzie cut in. ‘She’s all right?’

‘Of course she’s all right! Why wouldn’t she be?’ Mary said, irritably. And yet Felix saw the huge relief on Lizzie’s face. ‘If this is a case of your word against mine, then your journey has been wasted.’

There was a long, tense, fidgety silence. It was Lizzie who broke it. ‘In order to decide that, you’ll need to hear my word.’

Mary twitched uneasily. ‘Very well.’

‘Felix?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Will you listen too?’

‘Yes … yes, all right,’ he said, taken aback to be included. He decided he rather liked her for it.

She gave a nod of thanks. Yet she still didn’t look at either of them, staring instead at the plate of food in her lap.

‘Eden Court is not all you think it to be,’ Lizzie said. ‘That night you came I wasn’t a servant. I was a prisoner.’

Mary gave a gasp. Felix sat forward in his seat.

‘What went on in that house wasn’t wonderful or …’ Lizzie took a shaky breath, ‘… exciting. It was proper awful. I need to tell you everything, miss, and quickly, because I’ve a suspicion someone else is on their way here too, someone I don’t ever wish to meet again.’

Felix glanced at the windows with their shutters still open. This mysterious someone might be out there right now.

‘I’ll bolt the front door,’ he said.

On returning, Felix closed the shutters. Not seeing those huge dark windows helped a little, though his heart still beat surprisingly fast.

‘I beg that you’ll believe me – both of you,’ Lizzie said.

Felix nodded in earnest. Her filthy skirt hems and poor, raw feet spoke of the miles she’d travelled to be here. Of the mountains she’d crossed and sea she’d sailed. It took courage to do so. It also took fear. However bad the journey, it was better than what was left behind.

Felix knew how that felt.

Something terrible had happened to Lizzie Appleby, and whatever she was about to tell them, a big part of him already believed her.