17

Just when I was hoping to find the gates to Eden Court open, they were shut. A good shake didn’t shift them. The bolt was pulled across with a chain wrapped twice around it. What Mercy said about this place was true: it really wasn’t welcoming.

Racking my brains for another way in, I walked a little to the right of the gate. There were no hedges to squeeze through, no fences to climb, just a flint wall that seemed to run on forever.

I tried hollering instead. ‘Anyone there? I’ve got a message for Mr Walton.’

The trees groaned and whispered in the wind. It was cold too – a shivery cold that sank into your bones. I hugged myself, but it did little to warm me. The sooner I delivered this note and went home again, the better.

In the end, I waited an hour or more just for someone to appear. I wasn’t expecting that person to be Isaac Blake. I recognised his voice straight away: ‘Same time tomorrow, Jeffers?’

‘Aye, same time, same amount of pig,’ said this Jeffers person. I knew his voice too: he’d been with Mr Walton the night my geese were taken, and was the footman Da had mentioned.

Though I was still sore with Isaac for the stone-throwing business, at this moment I needed his help. Or at the very least for him not to pick on me again. So once I heard the gates rattle open, I went over. I was too late. There was a clunk as the bolt slid shut again, then fading footsteps as Jeffers disappeared down the drive.

‘Well, well,’ said Isaac, spotting me. ‘If it ain’t Lizzie Appleby. What you doing round these parts?’

I bristled slightly at the friendliness of his tone. ‘You’d better not start chucking things at me today.’

‘I didn’t mean it badly,’ he said. ‘Honest, I didn’t.’

‘Joking again, were you?’ I said, thinking back to the blindfold game.

‘No, I was warning you, or trying to. You want to be careful who you’re talking to, Lizzie. That Mr Walton ain’t what he seems.’

‘Hmmm.’ Peg had said as much, hadn’t she? But even if Isaac was warning us I still didn’t understand why he’d had to throw stones. I did know what he meant about Mr Walton, however.

‘Well, anyway, I need to deliver a note for Mr Walton,’ I said, checking for the square of paper in my pocket.

‘Jeffers’ll take it for you. Hullo! Jeffers!’ As he called to the footman, I covered my ears so as not to be deafened.

‘If he could just let me in the gate …’

‘Ho! Jeffers! Ho! Where’s the chap got to?’

‘Da says Jeffers is mighty busy.’

‘He is – like a mad man.’ Then Isaac dropped his voice. ‘Since they’ve taken over the house there’s been some funny goings-on. They’ve put this pole on the rooftop. It sticks up so tall it’ll get lightning-struck if they’re not careful.’

‘Oh, really?’ I said, trying to sound normal, when the mention of lightning made my guts churn. ‘Mercy said it looked like a flagpole without the flag.’

‘She’s right, it does.’ He gave a little sigh. ‘I wish she’d talk to me again, Lizzie. I really do care for her still, you know.’

I hadn’t come here to listen to Isaac’s lovesick mooning. ‘Well, that’s between you two, not me,’ I said, briskly. ‘What are you doing here, anyway? I thought Mr Walton wasn’t to be trusted.’

‘Ah, but this is different. It’s business.’

‘More pig carcasses?’

‘How d’you know about that?’

‘We saw you delivering one the other day – well, Mercy did. So Mr Walton’s been ordering a lot of bacon, has he?’

‘Not bacon, Lizzie – he wants the meat raw. I’ve brought another whole pig’s carcass today. Can you believe it – he wants the same every day.’

I was very certain that the meat wasn’t for Mr Walton. It was being fed to that thing that killed my geese, that hid in our hedge and then ran all the way to the village and down Mill Lane smelling like wet leaves. I felt sure of it. So sure it made the hairs on my neck tingle.

‘Mind you, Mr Walton’s got guests staying, which might explain why he wants so much meat.’ Isaac paused. ‘But I’ve been thinking about that missing poultry. And that poor horse what got bitten on the rump. I don’t know if it’s all connected … You’ve gone awful pale, Lizzie. You all right?’

I didn’t get a chance to answer. The thud of footsteps told me Jeffers had reappeared at the gate. ‘You forgotten something, Master Blake?’

‘Lizzie here’s got a message for Mr Walton.’ Isaac nudged me. I stumbled forward but kept my hand in my pocket.

‘I promised I’d take it to Mr Walton directly,’ I said.

Jeffers gave a superior sort of laugh. ‘I don’t think so, missy. He’s entertaining guests from London. He won’t want to be bothered by the likes of you.’

It was tempting just to give Jeffers the note. Then I could avoid Mr Walton altogether and go straight home and shut the door. But what if Da was right and the footman forgot to hand it over? He’d insisted I deliver it myself, and I’d said I would.

‘It’s urgent. It’s about the workbench my da’s making for him. It’s very important that I take it straight to Mr Walton without delay.’

Jeffers seemed to consider it. ‘I can’t deliver it right this instant. I’m busy doing—’

‘Exactly,’ I said, seizing my chance. ‘So let me in and I’ll do it.’

Jeffers continued contemplating.

‘Please, Mr Jeffers,’ I said, when I couldn’t bear it any more. ‘I’ll be proper quick.’

‘I’ll go with her,’ said Isaac. ‘Just to make sure she don’t lose her way.’

I glared in his direction. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Jeffers, though, thought this was a good idea. And I confess a little part of me did too.

‘Five minutes, then you’re out,’ he said.

The chains came off and the gates groaned open. When they clanked shut behind us, it made me flinch. I didn’t dare think what was shut in here with us.

Jeffers took us to the front of the house. He began deliberating again, this time about which door we should call at.

‘It’s not right for you to knock at the front door, but the kitchens are—’

A shout from behind cut him short: ‘Oi! Jeffers! You coming to help me clean these boots or taking the day off?’

‘Five minutes, that’s all,’ Jeffers said, and left us.

I breathed deeply to steady myself.

‘Right,’ I said to Isaac. ‘Let’s get this done.’

Taking my arm, he guided me to the front door. He wasn’t as gentle as Mercy, and he went a bit fast up the steps. But he placed my hand on the doorknocker rather than taking over and doing it himself, which was the sort of help I liked.

I rapped three times. Then we waited for what felt like eternity. In a house this vast, it might be ten minutes of brisk walking along passageways and down stairs to reach the door. Or perhaps they simply hadn’t heard.

Just as I went to lift the knocker again, rapid footsteps approached from the other side of the door. I expected it to fly open. Instead came the sound of bolts being drawn back: I counted five at least. Then a key clicked in its lock, turned, clicked again. At last, the door opened just a crack – I could tell by the little creaking noise it made.

‘Yes? What’re you wanting?’ said a woman’s voice, a maid, I supposed. It wasn’t the person who’d been with Mr Walton on Mill Lane.

I straightened my shoulders. ‘I’ve got a message for Mr Walton. It’s from my da, who’s making a workbench for him.’

‘I’ll see he gets it,’ the maid said.

There was a pause. Isaac nudged me so I guessed the maid was waiting for me to hand it over.

‘I’m to deliver it myself,’ I said.

The door creaked again as she opened it a little wider.

‘Are you now? Fancy that.’ I imagined her eyeing me up and down.

‘Lizzie, just give it to her. Jeffers’ll be back any minute,’ Isaac said.

I didn’t budge.

‘Could you take me to Mr Walton, please?’ I asked.

‘I ain’t got time to take you anywhere,’ she said, ‘not with a house full of flipping guests.’

Isaac must’ve done something clownish for she suddenly laughed. ‘All right. Very funny. You’ll find Mr Walton down by the stables – he likes to make sure the animals are fed proper.’

‘Animals?’ Instantly my brain filled with creatures capable of killing ducks and hens.

‘I meant horses,’ the maid said, like I was stupid.

She shut the door with a slam.

‘Why d’you have to say that?’ Isaac hissed, as we headed towards the stables. ‘You’ve made us look suspicious.’

‘Think about it,’ I hissed back. ‘All that raw meat you’re bringing here, all those missing birds. She said animals, not horses. That’s suspicious.’

‘True, it might be.’

‘You said yourself something queer’s going on here, and I’ll tell you this, Isaac, my sister’s been catching the blame.’

I told him then about Peg running away to Bristol.

‘She’s heartbroken,’ I said, a lump in my throat. ‘She swears she didn’t take anything apart from a kitten. My da’s gone off looking for her, which is why he can’t work for Mr Walton today and I’m here delivering this pesky note.’

‘Poor Peg. That ain’t right,’ Isaac muttered. ‘That ain’t right at all.’

He sounded like he meant it, too.

As we walked on, the gravel became beaten earth beneath our feet. Leaves brushed against me. The light flickered and grew darker. We were, I guessed, on a narrow path that wound between trees. Perhaps it was the same path Mercy mentioned the other day – where that man carrying a pig carcass had gone, and I’d thought might lead to a storehouse.

‘Where are these stables, then?’ I asked Isaac, as we walked on.

‘They’re down here somewhere. Keep going.’

But I was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. ‘I thought you knew where they were.’

‘I ain’t been down this path before. I deliver my pigs directly to Jeffers.’

‘So we’re lost, then?’

‘Not lost, just …’

A noise up ahead stopped us dead.

‘What was that?’ I whispered.

It sounded like a person crying. A child.

The noise came again. It seemed more animal now, perhaps an owl or a fox. Only it wasn’t that, either. Then it came again, long and low, and it made me think of pain or fear or deep, dark despair.

‘We ought to go,’ said Isaac.

‘Shhh! Listen.’ But though the sound had stopped, there was no mistaking the smell that wafted our way. It made my heart beat fast.

‘I’m going to find out what’s making that noise,’ I said.

‘Wait, Lizzie,’ Isaac said, holding onto my arm. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

The cry came again. This time it made me think of dogs howling. Perhaps it was a dog. There’d been a dead dog up here in a glass case, hadn’t there? And there was another one Mr Walton kept near the stables. Yet dogs didn’t smell like the woods.

As we listened, the animal howled on and on.

‘It sounds dangerous, Lizzie,’ Isaac warned.

‘Sounds sad to me.’

‘Well, we should keep back just in case.’

I rolled my eyes. For all his swagger, Isaac was turning out to be a bit of a fusspot.

‘I don’t see what it’s got to do with us, anyway. The animal down there is in a pen,’ he said. ‘It’s not roaming Sweepfield, helping itself to other people’s livestock.’

I clenched my fists. Either Isaac was a complete halfwit or he really didn’t know.

‘And that creature you speak of,’ I said, ‘has been escaping.’