Lady Barrington was stood by the window with her back to me. The air felt thick and close. And for the very first time I noticed a strong smell of stale bed sheets and unbeaten carpets. The chairs were still set for the séance, though the dishes and black cloths had been cleared. Kit’s boots were here, his open books, his folded clothes. A lump formed in my throat as it hit me all over again.
This room was so full of sadness.
‘What a commotion outside, Gracie,’ Lady Barrington said, her back still turned. ‘And is that blood I can see down there in the snow? Whatever’s happened?’
‘A boy got bit, your Ladyship.’
Her shoulders tensed at my voice. She turned round slowly, knowing I wasn’t Gracie at all.
‘What in heaven’s name . . . ?’
I put the coal bucket down and as I went towards her, she threw up her hands in panic.
‘Come any closer and I’ll scream!’
‘I mean no harm, but please, you must listen.’
She looked feverishly ill. And very capable of screaming the whole house down.
‘You’ve done enough harm already. Now get out!’
‘But I have to talk to you,’ I said. ‘About Kit.’
‘Why should I listen to you? You’re a charlatan, just like Madame Martineau.’
‘I’m nothing to do with her!’
Lady Barrington tossed her head. ‘Of course you are. She sent you here, didn’t she? You should be ashamed of yourself, playing with people’s grief!’
I bit back my words. She’d employed the blooming medium, not me, though it wouldn’t help to say so.
I tried again. ‘That day I went through the ice, I should’ve drowned. It’s a miracle I didn’t. And that’s because Kit saved my life.’
She blinked. Her hand went to her cheek.
‘What exactly do you mean?’
I knew I’d got her then.
‘Kit’s spirit haunts the lake,’ I said. ‘He’s cold and restless because there’s a truth that in’t being told.’
Her Ladyship froze. Her face drained of colour and she sank into a nearby chair. I wondered if I’d said too much, too quick, but I wasn’t about to stop now.
‘And he comes to me in my dreams, almost every night.’
‘You dream of him? Every night?’
‘Yes, your Ladyship.’
She looked stunned.
‘And what does he speak of? How does he seem?’
Like an angel, I so wanted to say. And it might’ve brought comfort, but it wasn’t the whole truth. ‘Well, he in’t happy. He wants me to help him so he can be at peace.’
‘You?’
‘Yes,’ I said, uneasily.
‘But why you, when I, his own mother, dream of nothing?’
It was a question I’d asked myself too.
She shut her eyes in a long, painful blink. When she looked at me again, her gaze was clear.
‘I knew from the moment I saw you, didn’t I? You bear a striking resemblance to her.’
My stomach lurched. She meant Ada, of course.
‘Kit was very fond of poor Ada,’ she said, shakily. ‘Too fond probably, but then he got that from his mother. It’s our weakness, you see, to form these fierce attachments.’
I felt my cheek flush. Kit had held my hands tightly. He’d even saved my life. Surely that meant I was a fierce attachment too.
Lady Barrington continued. ‘When Mrs Jessop’s husband died, we agreed to take both her and Ada on. She came to us with glowing references, and for all her ways, she’s proved herself a remarkable housekeeper.’
Anger stirred in me. Mrs Jessop was remarkable, all right. If her Ladyship had an inkling of what she’d really done, she’d get rid of her like a shot. Just like she’d done with me.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her, but I held back: it could wait. Now that I’d got Lady Barrington talking, I didn’t want to throw her off course.
‘Only Ada and Kit became firm friends. She was like family to him, almost the sister he never had. I didn’t really approve of it but it seemed harmless enough at first.’
Her Ladyship paused, clearly troubled.
‘Over time, they became inseparable,’ she said, eventually. ‘It started to cause problems. People didn’t know their rightful place. You have to understand, Kit was heir to a fortune, and Ada was destined to be a maid. Such an attachment couldn’t continue for ever. Nothing would ever come of it, don’t you see?’
She fell silent. My gaze drifted away from her, to the unmade bed, the too-hot fire; this shrine to her beloved Kit. This was her fierce attachment, wasn’t it? Even to me, who knew how special Kit was, it all felt too much.
‘You find it strange?’ she said, watching me. ‘Most people do, even those who’ve lost someone dear. They might wear a locket or keep a curl of hair. But the thing I wanted most of his had vanished. This is how I keep him close.’
It still seemed mawkish, somehow.
‘What was it, this thing you wanted?’ I asked.
She sighed. ‘A gold ring we’d given him for his birthday.’
My heart stopped.
‘It was a beautiful thing,’ she said. ‘Made from family gold with his name engraved inside it.’
I know, I thought. I know.
‘He wore it on his little finger. He swore he’d never take it off. But when they found his body, he wasn’t wearing it. It had gone. I had hoped one day he’d pass it on to someone special, someone very dear to him.’ She frowned. ‘We even checked that he’d not somehow given it to Ada.’
I wanted to cry out: but he did give it to someone dear to him! He gave it to me! Because I saw more than ever now what that ring really meant. And when I thought of what had happened to it, I could’ve died of shame. If only I’d returned it to Lady Barrington right at the start. Instead, it was most probably in a pawn shop somewhere, or stashed away in Eliza’s trunk.
‘And now, with your story,’ said her Ladyship, ‘maybe it fits that there is part of him still out there in the lake.’
She fell quiet then, though her hands fidgeted madly in her lap.
‘Kit says there’s a truth that needs revealing,’ I said.
Lady Barrington shuddered. ‘Ah yes, the truth . . .’
A sharp knock at the door stopped her. She passed a hand across her brow, calling out, ‘Not now, please.’
The knocking carried on. Her Ladyship rolled her eyes.
‘What on earth is it?’
As the door opened, my heart sank. It was Mrs Jessop. And she looked ready to wring my neck.
‘Forgive me, your Ladyship,’ she said, then sharply to me, ‘You were told to wait downstairs!’
A look of alarm crossed Lady Barrington’s face, as if I might well be a trickster after all. Then she said, ‘Mrs Jessop, you’d better come in and sit down. We’re discussing something that involves you, and we should have done it long ago.’
Mrs Jessop blanched. But she collected herself and took a seat next to her Ladyship.
‘You too,’ Lady Barrington ordered me.
I sat down. My palms were sweating.
‘Matilda has news of my son,’ said Lady Barrington.
Mrs Jessop turned pale. She knew nothing of my dreams, of course. She reckoned I was about to spill her secret, to tell her Ladyship what I’d read on that torn-out page. And I was dying to. Only not yet.
‘Please continue, Matilda,’ said her Ladyship.
Their eyes were on me. My mouth went dry. Here I was, a tatty little housemaid, only I couldn’t even call myself that any more. Why the heck should they listen to me?
Yet they were waiting for me to speak. I had to hold my nerve.