Being in the tunnel wasn’t too bad at first. It was so narrow I could touch the walls on either side without even stretching out my arms, but knowing there was an open door behind us helped me stay calm. Then, twenty yards or so in, we seemed to drop down further. The air grew colder. Peg’s light guttered furiously.
‘Careful, there’s another step,’ said Peg, slowing her pace. Then a few yards on, ‘The tunnel goes sharp right here.’
I almost wished she hadn’t said so, for once we’d turned the corner that door was no longer behind us and the walls seemed to close in just that bit more. The damp smell grew so I could almost taste it. Cobwebs tickled my cheeks. And the air was so thick it caught in my throat. Something darted over my foot. I felt another vermin-sized body brush past my ankle. Just ahead of me, Peg gave a loud gasp.
‘Rats! They’re big ones, Lizzie.’
I hesitated. Rats had never bothered me, not like they did Mercy, who’d squeal at the sight of one. This was different. I couldn’t tell where they were, not until they touched me. It made me want to turn tail and run. But run where? It was either back to the cellar or keep going. Suddenly neither seemed much of an option.
‘Don’t stop. Keep moving,’ I said. ‘Wave your light at them if they come too close.’
Poor Peg did her best. In one hand she held her rushlight aloft. In the other, she gripped my fingers so hard they went numb. Step by step we inched along the tunnel.
‘They’re as big as cats!’ Peg said.
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘How can they be?’
Peg lunged forward. ‘Get back!’ she cried, waving the light in front of her with such force it went out.
Something muscular squirmed past my leg.
‘It came up to my knee! I swear it did!’ I cried.
As Peg took off in panic, I was right behind. The darkness didn’t matter nor that we’d no idea where we were heading. All we cared about was running. Away from the rats. Away from the cellar. Away from Mr Walton.
We kept going for what felt like miles. Upwards, downwards. The damp-smelling tunnel seemed never-ending. And then, quite suddenly the air grew warmer. The darkness turned a murky grey.
‘Is that a door up ahead?’ I asked, panting for breath.
‘Think so. It’s got light round its edges.’
As we got closer, Peg was all for bursting straight through the door but I held her back.
‘Wait a second,’ I whispered. ‘We don’t know where it goes. We don’t want to rush out and get caught, do we?’
Mr Walton probably had an office or a library or something, and it would be just our luck that this door opened straight into it. An hour or so ago this might’ve been helpful. But Da’s note wasn’t important any more. What mattered was getting Peg out of here, away from whatever Mr Walton was planning to do with her.
‘Let me listen at the door.’ Gesturing for Peg to step aside, I pressed my ear against the wood. All I heard was silence. And Peg breathing heavily at my shoulder.
‘I can’t hear nothing over you huffing and puffing,’ I said.
She drew a single, sharp breath. Something was scuttling towards us. I heard rustling. Scratching. Peg flung her arms around my waist.
‘Oh, Lizzie!’ she squealed. ‘It’s those rats again! Loads of them!’
‘Shh! Keep quiet.’
But she pressed her face into my frock and started to sob. Something terrifyingly large lumbered across my feet. Another brushed against my ankles. Then a surge of fur and muscle writhed past our legs.
‘There’s so many!’ I gasped in horror.
Peg’s sobs fast became wails, echoing off the tunnel. All the while, I tried to tell her to shush, that it would be all right, but I sensed something scampering vertically up the wall just inches from my face. Close enough to feel a flick of tail against my chin. To hear the skitter of claws. And when my hair began to move and I felt whiskers tickle my ear, I panicked.
With all my might, I flew at the door. It gave way against my shoulder. The force sent me stumbling out into daylight, Peg still hugging my waist. I kicked the door shut behind us. Then, loosening Peg’s grip, I took a lungful of air. Beat by beat, my heart began to slow. I still couldn’t hear anyone. The room, or wherever we were, felt empty. It smelled strange too, of something I couldn’t name. It was strong enough to make my nose tingle.
‘Where are we?’ I whispered.
‘Don’t know,’ said Peg. ‘It’s got shelves on the walls like a library but …’
‘But what?’
‘They aren’t books on the shelves. They’re jars with things in them, like when we pickle vegetables for winter, only these things, well …’ She paused. ‘They aren’t vegetables, either.’
‘What are they?’ Though, from her shocked tones, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Peg hugged me tight. ‘Oh, Lizzie! They’re queer, horrible things, like baby animals and birds and toads with two heads!’
What I’d suspected in that cage outside was bad enough. But this filled me with a new disgust. In that single moment, I was almost glad I couldn’t see the shelves. Then it all bloomed inside my head anyway: jars of dark fluid and floating inside them, little, fish-like bodies, their white flesh pressed against the glass.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ I said, prising Peg off me and taking her hand. ‘But please, not back through that tunnel.’
‘There’s another door. We’ll go that way,’ said Peg.
I nodded. If it took us out into a hall then we’d creep along it, silent as mice. But before we’d even reached the door, it opened.
‘… for goodness’ sake! Put her in a bedroom, not a cellar! We want the child alive and well, not sick with fever, or worse,’ said a woman, clearly scolding someone. ‘It’s what our guests have come to see. And if the weather is turning and we get a storm tonight, then …’
Two sets of footsteps came to a halt in front of us.
‘Oh! Gracious!’ the woman cried.
The other voice was Mr Walton’s. ‘What on earth? How did you get in here?’
Making sure Peg was tucked safely behind me, I stood tall. I was seething. And terrified. Though I didn’t want him to see it.
‘We’re going home, Mr Walton. Our da’s been worried sick about where Peg’s been,’ I said.
‘Can’t keep that nose of yours out of anything, can you?’ he cried.
‘She doesn’t wish to stay and be part of your “surprise”. She’s proper upset, she is. But luckily for her, you hid her in a cellar with a secret passage connected to it, so we got out just in time.’
‘What nonsense! That cellar was perfectly secure.’ But I could hear him flustering.
‘If you’ll excuse us,’ I said. ‘Come on, Peg.’
As I went to walk past him his hand shot out and grabbed my upper arm, pinching the skin between his fingers.
‘Release your sister at once!’ Mr Walton said.
‘Get off me!’ Pulling back, I twisted and squirmed whilst desperately trying to hold onto Peg.
‘Stop this minute! All of you!’ cried the woman.
She spoke with such authority, I knew at once she was the same person who’d been with Mr Walton that night on Mill Lane.
‘Let go of both girls this instant,’ she said.
Tutting angrily, Mr Walton shoved us away from him. I put my arm around Peg’s shoulders. Whoever this woman was, she was the person giving orders to him, not the other way round. And now she’d saved us from his clutches. I reckoned I owed her a thank you.
I cleared my throat. ‘Miss …’
‘Stine. Francesca Stine.’
She must’ve moved for I caught a waft of her scent. It was the same as this room’s, chemical and eye-wateringly strong.
‘Miss, I’m taking my sister home,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what Mr Walton was planning to do with Peg, but we aren’t staying to find out. And my poor da’s beside himself with worry so the sooner we get home, the better.’
I half expected a gasp of horror. A sympathetic cry. Maybe even a call to bring the carriage round to the front and drive us back to Sweepfield.
Instead, Miss Stine said, ‘Peg? Did you just call your sister Peg?’
I frowned. ‘That’s her name.’
She made an irritable sound in her throat. Her skirts swished as she turned away from us then back again.
‘You idiot!’ Her voice was a low, furious rumble. ‘You absolute, incompetent idiot!’
My mouth fell open. ‘There’s no need to call me—’
‘Not you!’ she spat. ‘Him!’
Mr Walton, who’d gone eerily quiet, drew a breath as if he was about to explain himself. I’d still no real idea what this was concerning. But I had second thoughts about thanking anyone now.
‘Excuse us,’ I said. ‘We’re leaving.’
We managed two steps before Miss Stine took hold of my wrist.
‘Not so fast,’ she said. ‘I told Mr Walton to bring me Lizzie Appleby – the famous lightning child. Can you believe it? All this effort, all this secrecy. And the idiot brought me the wrong girl!’