The shock of the memory returning was physically painful. For a moment I was right back there. I could smell the smoke that was choking me, could feel the warm blood, slick and slippery between my fingertips.
“Oh God!” I said.
I’m a murderer! I didn’t say the words aloud but perhaps they were ringing loudly enough in my head that the Frozen Charlottes heard them anyway.
“He started it!” one of the dolls piped up. “He started the game with his cane!”
“Ha ha! That rhymes!”
“He started the game with his cane!” the first doll sang out again. “And then it was tag, tag, tag, you’re it! Atishoo, atishoo, we all fall down dead!”
Devils are like chameleons, you know, Grandma had once told me. They shape themselves to fit whatever identity is presented to them.
I hadn’t understood what she meant and so she’d reminded me of the painting she’d mentioned before – the one of the old woman in the wedding dress.
The demon possessed that painting and became trapped inside it, she’d said. And so it took for itself the identity of a bitter, twisted old bride. It wept and wailed, and it hated all men with a passion. That devil had come straight from hell so, of course, it had never been left at the altar. But it put on the first mask that it found and it played the part.
I stared at the little dolls before me. Was that what had happened to the Frozen Charlottes? A devil had possessed them and now it was childish and playful, but in a way that was twisted and evil and warped. When Vanessa had been alive, she had used the dolls to make innocent comments about the thunder being too loud, but now that the dolls had voices of their own they only wanted to talk of murder.
“I left you behind!” I cried, clenching my fists. “How did you get here?”
“Oh, Mother, we knew you didn’t mean to leave us!” the Frozen Charlotte said, its little head twisting back and forth. “Amy took us home for her daughter to play with, but she was a wimpy-wimp and too afraid to play the blood games. And we missed you, Mother! So we whispered to Amy at night and told her to ask the lawyer men where you were.”
“Then we made her order a glorious toy chest to send us in.”
“With your name on it because we belong to you!”
“We’ll always belong to you, Mother.”
“Always.”
“Oh! Oh, what are you doing?”
The last doll cried out as I snatched it up and shoved it into the toy chest, before collecting up the others, who giggled as I piled them in.
“It’s a new game, I think,” one of them said. “Yes, we’re going to play a game!”
I snapped the lid of the toy chest shut, picked it up and made my way back through the silent school, and out into the freezing grounds, where the snow glittered in the moonlight. I took the most direct route to the clifftop edge and hurled the toy chest over the side, watching it drop into the ocean. Perhaps the little dots of white I saw down there were Frozen Charlotte dolls floating out to sea after the toy chest had broken open. Then again, perhaps they were merely flecks of foam and the dolls were already sinking to the bottom inside their chest.
As I stared down at the sea, I felt an inner shiver of revulsion at myself and my overriding thought was that Henry must never find out about what I had done. He was decent and kind and good, and I was a monster. I couldn’t bear the thought of him looking at me with disgust, as he surely must if he ever learned the truth. I felt a raw flash of animal panic at the thought. I couldn’t lose Henry – I just couldn’t. Redwing and my mother were both dead. I was the only one left who knew what had really happened and it was a secret I would take to my grave.
“To my grave,” I muttered, staring down at the dark ocean.
The dolls had clearly been possessed by one of those demons my grandmother had warned me about. But it didn’t matter any more. The Frozen Charlottes were gone. I so wanted to believe I had all the answers I needed, and yet … I still couldn’t quite accept that Estella’s death was the simple, tragic accident it had appeared to be. How had the sandwich got there? There was some other missing piece to the puzzle that had not yet slotted into place. I glanced back at the school, hunched against the night sky. Much as I wished it were otherwise, it was not yet time to go.
After a few days, the physician said Martha was well enough to join the others in their lessons – although she could no longer read, or write, or draw, or do anything much at all. She could only sit there in silence at the back of the classroom, letting out the occasional moan, which Miss Grayson would promptly reprimand her for.
The schoolmistress had been in a particularly bad mood ever since she’d found out that the Frozen Charlottes were missing. Indeed she showed far more emotion over their disappearance than she had over Estella’s death. I was glad when my monthly day off arrived and Henry insisted on taking me to the Fairy Pools. We had to leave the school early to make the most of the daylight but it was worth the journey. Nestled at the foot of the craggy Black Cuillin mountains there was an incredible collection of waterfalls and clear, icy pools of green and blue water.
“Good heavens,” I breathed, when we reached the first pool. “It’s … it’s magical.”
Henry flashed me a smile. “I thought you’d like them,” he said. “You know, the first time I ever came here, I thought I saw a fairy.”
I glanced at him to see if he was joking but he appeared to be in earnest.
“It was right there.” He pointed to the other side of the pool. “Just for a moment, before it disappeared behind some heather.”
He gave me a quick, almost embarrassed, smile as if he felt suddenly foolish for bringing up fairies at all.
“Then again, perhaps it was only a trick of the light,” he said.
I looked back at the spot where he’d pointed. If there really was such a thing as fairies, then Henry seemed exactly the type of person who might see one. It was only dark souls like me who attracted devils and heard cursed dolls whispering in the night.
It occurred to me then, quite forcefully, that I simply wasn’t fit to be Henry’s wife. He ought to marry a sweet, gentle girl – the sort who’d wear flowers in her hair and dance barefoot and glimpse fairies flitting between roses. That girl was not me. And yet, I was not selfless enough to give up Henry. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything.
“I threw the Frozen Charlotte dolls in the sea,” I told him as we made our way up the path to the next pool, a waterfall cascading into it in perfect, pearly white bubbles.
Henry exhaled and then said in a relieved tone, “That seems like a good idea, Mim. Whether they really were haunted or not, they weren’t doing any good here.”
We walked on in silence for a few more minutes before Henry said, “Does that mean we can leave now?”
“Not yet,” I replied, though I had to force the words out. “I feel like there is something more to Estella’s death. I don’t think we know the whole truth.”
Henry sighed beside me. “Darling girl,” he said, “do you think, perhaps, you only want there to be something more because then you wouldn’t need to feel guilty yourself?”
I stiffened instantly. “What are you saying?”
I demanded.
“Well…” Henry looked desperately uncomfortable. “I mean, the nuts were brought out during your class, weren’t they? So perhaps you feel that—”
“Do you think I am to blame?” I asked, stopping abruptly on the path.
“Of course not!” Henry replied at once. “Of course I don’t think that and you shouldn’t, either.” He shook his head. “Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s not talk about the school any more today.”
We continued on but all the magic suddenly seemed to have been sucked from the outing. Could Henry be right? Was I hoping for some alternative explanation for Estella’s death so that I wouldn’t be at fault?
Although we feigned cheerfulness, I’m sure we were both feeling the strain by the time we set off back to the school. It was late afternoon when we returned and I went inside only to find that Miss Grayson was having the entire school searched, in case one of the girls had taken the Frozen Charlotte dolls and hidden them somewhere.
“It’s the kind of behaviour I would have expected from Estella,” Miss Grayson said. “It’s almost as if she’s still here, causing mischief.”
Perhaps it was this remark that started the rumours. The girls took to saying Estella was still there in the school. Olivia said she’d heard movement from the toy room and suggested that perhaps Estella was trying to find the dolls, too. One time when the girls piled out for their break, Felicity came rushing back in to say that she’d seen Estella’s face at the dormitory window, staring out, just like she had the night Martha was blinded.
A few days after the visit to the Fairy Pools, Miss Grayson was taking the class for their embroidery lesson and I was sitting on my usual stool at the front of the room when suddenly I became aware that my hands were wet.
I looked down, confused, and to my horror saw that my fingers were dripping blood. It ran, slick and slippery, in warm, scarlet lines down my hands. I cried out before I could stop myself, staring, appalled, at the gory evidence of my sin.
Murderer!
Murderer!
Murderer!
The word pealed, over and over again, inside my mind. When the Frozen Charlotte doll upset the paraffin lamp I could have run for help. I could have gone to the servants. I could have fetched the police and reported what Redwing had done to my mother. He would have been locked safely away in prison. But, no. I’d been too angry for that. Too bloodthirsty. And only murder would do.
Don’t be frightened yet…
It is not I who has the dark soul, madam…
I’ll tell you when it’s time to be frightened…
It is you…
Now…
Where were we?
“Miss Black!” Miss Grayson’s shrill voice cut through my thoughts and I looked up to see the whole class staring at me. I gazed down at my hands only to find that they looked perfectly ordinary. I ran one hand over the other, just to be sure, but they were quite dry.
The schoolmistress was positively glaring as she took me by the arm and hurried me from the room. “Continue with your work, girls,” she called over her shoulder. “In silence, please.”
Miss Grayson ushered me into her study. “Are you ill?” she demanded, the moment the door was closed.
I realized I was shaking and knew that Miss Grayson must have felt this when she touched my arm. I drew a deep breath to try to steady my nerves but this only had the effect of making me feel lightheaded.
“No,” I managed. “I’m quite well.”
Miss Grayson folded her arms over her chest. “You are aware, I suppose, that you shrieked out in the middle of the class for no apparent reason and then stood rubbing at your hands and generally behaving most oddly?”
“I apologize,” I said. “I … I did not sleep very well last night and—”
“My dear Miss Black,” Miss Grayson said, turning away from me towards her desk. “I do not believe I have ever met anyone more proficient in the art of excuses than you. We are all suffering from a lack of sleep. We are all in shock over Estella’s tragic death. And yet you are the only person who is falling apart and having hysterics.” She sat down behind her desk and pulled open a drawer.
I could feel a dull ache starting up behind my eyes. If I closed them I could still feel the blood on my skin, hear the wet squelching sound of my mother being beaten to death on the floor, smell the vile scent of Macassar oil mixed with tobacco heavy upon the air. I didn’t feel up to battling with Miss Grayson at this particular moment.
I opened my eyes. “Please endeavour to be fair to me, if you can,” I said. “It was nothing more than a minor incident; I have apologized for any disruption, and now I’m quite composed and ready to return to class.”
Miss Grayson took some writing paper from her desk, slammed the drawer shut and walked over to me. There wasn’t an ounce of warmth or pity in her eyes as she gazed at me.
“You are physically shaking, miss,” she said. “Which suggests to me that you have not composed yourself at all.” One corner of her mouth twisted with distaste. “I suppose in your old life, before you became penniless, you had male suitors fawning all over you and rushing to your aid every time a fainting fit or shaking spell occurred.”
“That is not—”
“Well, I’m afraid I cannot offer the same service.” The schoolmistress pressed the paper into my hand. “It must be apparent, even to you, that you are not suited to this work,” she said. “I will accept your resignation on my desk the moment you care to submit it.”
I wanted nothing more than to resign – to leave with Henry and never look back. But I could not, would not, go until I’d reassured myself that Estella’s death had been nothing more than an accident.
I thrust the paper back at the schoolmistress. “If you think you can bully me into resigning,” I said, “then you are sadly mistaken. I will leave this school when it suits me to leave and not a moment before.”
Miss Grayson gave me such a glare that I really thought for a moment she might actually slap me. But before she could do or say anything, there was a knock at the door.
“For heaven’s sake, what is it now?” the schoolmistress cried.
The door opened and Cassie peered in. “Sorry, ma’am, but the photographer’s here,” she said.
“What photographer?” Miss Grayson snapped.
“He said he was asked to come,” Cassie said, looking uncertain. “I told him he wasn’t expected but he said he was booked weeks ago and that—”
“Yes, yes,” Miss Grayson said abruptly, nodding her head, causing her pompadour to wobble. “Yes, the photographer. Well, don’t just stand there, you foolish girl! Tell him to set up on the front steps.”
The girls were ushered from the classroom and told to line up outside the front entrance, with the school in the background. They did as they were told, shivering in their coats. Miss Grayson grabbed Martha’s hand and positioned the poor girl next to her, at the edge of the front row.
“Please stay where you are, Miss Black,” Miss Grayson said, despite the fact that I’d made no move to join them. “I don’t think the photograph needs to be graced by your presence.”
I stood and watched as the photographer set up his camera and gave everyone directions. No one smiled. The bulb went off with a pop and a flash and then the photographer was packing up his things and taking his leave.
When I finally returned to my room that evening, I was so exhausted that I simply wanted to fall into bed fully clothed and never move from there again. I could not seem to rid myself of this damned headache and I felt tired right down to my bones. When someone knocked on my door I groaned aloud.
I got up from the bed and opened the door, expecting to see Miss Grayson come to chastize me some more or perhaps Henry sneaking in to see me. But instead I found Bess, shivering in her nightdress, tears running down her cheeks.
“Oh, Bess, what’s wrong?” I said, crouching down to her level.
“I … I have a secret,” she whispered. “And I want to tell you what it is but Charlotte says I shouldn’t.”
I couldn’t help shuddering at those two words: Charlotte says…
“But … the dolls are all gone,” I said.
“This one isn’t.” Bess reached into her nightdress pocket and produced a Frozen Charlotte doll with a broken arm and little gold shoes. “She wasn’t with the others; she was in my pocket.”
My heart sank at the sight of it.
“Are there any more in the school?” I asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Come inside for a moment,” I said, ushering her into the room and closing the door. “Now listen. No one else can hear us in here. Whatever your secret is you can trust me with it, I promise.”
Bess lifted her eyes to mine. “I did something,” she said. “Something wicked.”
There was so much anguish in her expression that I instinctively reached out to wrap my hands round her skinny arms.
“It’s all right,” I said. “You can tell me.”
“Miss Black,” Bess replied, “I lied to that policeman. I was scared and Charlotte said not to tell, but I think I should have.”
“Tell him what?” I asked.
“That it was me,” Bess said. She gave a little sob. “I killed Estella.”