Twenty minutes. That’s all we had. Twenty minutes to break out of this fortress. The keys that unlocked the side door and the back gate hung on a hook in the watchman’s office. He used them to check all of the doors and gates – every hour on the hour. The rest of the time he dozed at his desk.
Jago had waited until he nodded off, then expertly lifted the keys. But in twenty minutes, when the clock in his office chimed nine o’clock, the watchman would wake and reach for those keys. And when he discovered they were not there he would sound the alarm.
‘There won’t be no second chances,’ said Jago as we slipped out into the corridor, ‘so keep close.’
‘Right behind you,’ I said softly.
A few candles burned on brackets along the dank hallway. We moved swiftly, the cries and taunts of lost souls making it hard to hear anything else. Luckily, Jago did.
We were at the end of the corridor when he stopped me. Stuck his nose around the corner then shot back.
‘It’s Matron!’ he hissed. ‘Blimey, we’re done for.’
‘Jago, is that you?’ called the Matron sternly.
The poor boy turned pale (well, as pale as his skin would allow). Thinking with the kind of crafty quick-wittedness you might expect from a seasoned criminal, I rushed to the nearest door, drew back the bolt and slipped inside.
Jago hastily closed the door behind me. Through the wall I heard the sound of Matron scolding him for wandering about the halls when he should be upstairs scrubbing pots.
Inside the room all was darkness. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light as I edged into the corner. It hadn’t occurred to me that there might be some danger in choosing to hide in the cell of a mental patient. There hadn’t been time.
As the darkness gradually yielded to shadows and shapes, I could just make out a bed against the far wall and a figure upon it. I could hear their slow breath and supposed they were asleep. But a sudden shriek from a nearby cell changed that.
First, there was the rustle of a chain. A gasp. Then she started to hum. The rich melody of her voice seemed to slither through my ears and track about my body. There was something glorious and haunting in it.
‘Mmmm mm mmmm mm,’ she hummed.
I stepped forward as softly as I could. As I did, the dark light around her seemed to lift, offering a faint glimpse. What a sight it was! Long matted hair covered her face like a curtain. She wore a nightgown that I am sure at one time had been white. Her feet were bare and black with soot. And she was hugging herself tightly. The music stopped suddenly. She lifted her head as a wolf might and I heard her sniff the air.
I backed away, retreating to my corner. I wasn’t scared, but something else. Something I could neither name nor understand.
‘Hello, dear,’ I said softly.
She drew back, her chains rattling.
‘I mean no harm,’ I whispered next. ‘I have been listening to you hum these past thirteen days and when it wasn’t driving me batty, it was perfectly lovely. You have tremendous pitch for a lunatic.’
‘Mmmm mm mmmm mm,’ she began again.
Then the door opened swiftly and Jago appeared. But the woman did not pause and her melody covered our voices as I rushed towards him.
‘That was close,’ said Jago. ‘Someone posh from the board’s come by unexpected and they’re all in a flap. Come, we haven’t much time.’
‘Goodbye,’ I whispered to the music maker.
I stepped out into the corridor, Jago bolting the door behind us.
Then we took off again down the passageway. Turned at the far end and ran until we reached a set of back stairs. Once there, the boy did a most unexpected thing. He took the keys and placed them in my hands.
A frown creased my forehead. ‘Are you not coming down with me?’
He ignored the question. ‘You go down these stairs and follow the hall to the eastern door. Use this key to unlock it. From there it’s a short dash across the yard to the back gate. Use this one to unlock that – then run for your life.’
‘But if I take the keys you won’t be able to put them back before the alarm is raised.’
‘It’s too late for that now,’ said the boy. ‘I’ll make a racket when I get upstairs and ring the bell myself – then I’ll point them in the wrong direction.’
‘But what if they find out what you’ve done?’
‘I’m a smart one, chatterbox, they’ll never know it’s me.’
‘Why are you helping me?’
‘’Cause you don’t belong here.’
I hugged the little ragamuffin and took off down the stairs.
My instructions were simple enough and I followed them well. At the bottom of the stairs I found a long passageway with a door at the end. I took off at speed. My eyes fixed on the path to freedom.
I was nearly halfway there when I came to a shuddering stop. A corridor peeled off to my left. The smart thing would have been to run right past it as fast as I could. But I heard the distinct echo of voices. I pulled up. Panting wildly.
A man was speaking. Then a woman bellowed over him. Her voice unmistakable.
‘My granddaughter tells me that she is as impossibly cheerful as ever,’ snapped old walnut head. ‘Why is her spirit not broken? Are you running a resort or a madhouse, Professor Ploomgate?’
‘We have deprived her of liberty, sunlight, nutrition,’ came the Professor’s insipid reply. ‘I do not know what else we can do.’
‘Think of something, you lumbering jackass!’ she barked.
With every moment their voices and the click of Lady Elizabeth’s cane grew louder. They were coming right towards me. The obvious solution was to run back – but where would that lead? Jago was about to raise the alarm and the halls would be swarming with orderlies all on the lookout. The only option was to risk exposure and make a run for it.
I had to get an idea how close they were. So with tremendous care, I took a peek. It was only the briefest of glimpses, but it was enough. The group consisted of Professor Ploomgate, Lady Elizabeth and Matilda. They were perhaps thirty feet away. Lady Elizabeth and the Professor were deep in conversation and did not see me. But Matilda did. I was practically positive.
‘Grandmother,’ said the pretty brat, ‘there’s something you should know.’
‘What is it?’ said the old bat gruffly.
The game was up. I prepared to run.
‘My bracelet is missing, and I know I had it on when we arrived. We simply must go back and look for it – after all, if anyone in this beastly place were to find it, I would never see it again.’
‘I assure you,’ said Professor Ploomgate, ‘that my staff possess the highest morals and character.’
‘Claptrap!’ huffed Lady Elizabeth. ‘Come, we will retrace our steps and see if it has fallen off somewhere along the way.’
And with that, I heard them turn around and walk back the way they had come.
Just then the bell began to ring and I heard raised voices sounding the alarm.
I took off, racing towards the eastern door.
‘We’ve got a runner!’ came a frantic cry.
My hands shook as I found the right key and unlocked the heavy door. I charged outside, cold wind swirling around me. There were lamplights dotted around the high brick wall and I soon spotted the way out. I could hear other footsteps pounding upon the ground as I ran.
The back gate had a large padlock connected to a thick chain.
‘Check all the gates!’ bellowed a guard.
I said a silent prayer that the key would work as I slipped it in. The padlock released with a glorious click. I pulled on the chain. Unlatched the gate. Practically leapt through it. And all the while, I was unable to comprehend why Matilda Butterfield had let me escape. It was astounding! Impossible!
A narrow lane hugged the wall surrounding Lashwood and I ran along it until a side street came into view. I could hear frantic exchanges on the other side of the wall, whistles being blown and boots thumping across the yard.
A single gaslight lit the next street. As I charged along the footpath, my cape flying out behind me, I could hear a carriage approaching. So I slowed down, hugging the row of terraces to obscure myself. Waited for it to pass.
Then I felt it. A presence behind me. Terribly close. Just as a hand gripped my arm. Without turning around I pulled fiercely away. The carriage swept by, the sound thunderous, and I sprinted on to the road and lunged at it. Grabbing the luggage brace I managed to hoist myself up, holding on for dear life.
As it sped away, I dared to look back. But I could see no sign of my attacker.
There was only one place I could think to go. One place I might seek refuge. So that is where I went.
After all, my options were limited. The Snagsbys’ was out of the question on the grounds that they were violent criminals. Miss Carnage was tragically out of reach, as I did not know where she lived. And the London Library would surely be closed at this late hour. So that only left one option, and I felt that under the circumstances it was a good one.
Unfortunately, not everyone agreed.
‘Miss Estelle and the Baron have retired to bed.’
It was the butler again. He looked me up and down with disapproval. Perhaps because I looked like a girl who had just escaped from a madhouse – matted hair, dirty clothes, stinking to high heaven.
‘I have news for Miss Estelle – I would have come sooner but I was rather preoccupied at Lashwood.’
‘As I said, Miss Estelle has retired to bed.’
‘It’s all right, Lampton,’ came a bright voice.
Estelle appeared in all her loveliness. Almost as if she had been hiding behind the door. ‘Ivy is a dear friend and is always welcome.’
I was terribly moved by her bright smile. How it would fade when I told her about Sebastian’s fate.
As I walked in, I hit the butler on the shoulder and spoke from the corner of my mouth. ‘Have a mop and bucket brought in immediately – there is sure to be an ocean of tears.’
When I entered the magnificent drawing room, Estelle took my cape and offered me a comfortable armchair.
‘Ivy …’ said Estelle, frowning as she sat down opposite me. ‘I do not quite know how to say this, but you look rather dishevelled. Where have you been?’
‘In a madhouse, dear.’ I felt the truth was my best option. ‘It’s a dreadfully long story, but I was the victim of a vengeful old bat with hatred in her heart.’
Estelle gasped with great conviction. ‘Where were you imprisoned?’
‘Lashwood. Actually, dear, I’m almost certain I saw you there.’
‘Me? What a strange thing to say.’
‘I’m sure it was just someone who looked like you but the resemblance was stupendous.’
A maid came in and Estelle ordered tea and refreshments. Then the girl stood up.
‘We must run you a bath and do something about your clothes. You wait here and have something to eat, while I see to all the details.’
‘Do hurry, dear, for I have some rather grim news to report.’
Estelle nodded and quickly walked from the drawing room. I sat back and took a long breath as I glanced around the sumptuous room. My friend would no doubt insist that I stay on with them. As a treasured friend and sister. It was sure to be a perfectly pleasant life.
Oh, but the Clock Diamond. And Rebecca. I could not forget my mission. At first light, I would return to the Snagsbys and demand the necklace back. Failing that, I would find a way to steal it, before they could use it again on another unsuspecting victim. But for tonight, I would allow myself a brief window of rest and fine food.
I closed my eyes. But the sound of sobbing out in the hall brought me quickly to my feet. I hurried out and found a maid carrying a tray up the stairs, crying like a rainstorm. It was Bertha, who had been so helpful on my last visit.
‘Whatever’s the matter, dear?’
It turned out that her mother had taken ill. And all she wanted to do was rush home to care for her, but first she had to serve Baron Dumbleby his coffee and read to him until he nodded off.
‘Here, give it to me,’ I said, taking the tray from her hands. ‘You go home to your mother and I will take the coffee to the Baron. I practically live here now.’
Bertha hurried away, wiping her eyes, and I made my way upstairs to the Baron’s private quarters.
I found the little aristocrat in his bed, propped up on a small mountain of satin pillows, fast asleep. His teeth were in a jar beside the bed and as he breathed in and out, his lips would sink into his mouth, then shoot out, flapping with abandon. It was delightful.
As I set the tray down beside the bed, he roused. His head lifted from the pillow then fell back again. Though still groggy, he seemed to recognise me. ‘Has she gone?’
‘Who, dear?’
‘Anastasia,’ he whispered. ‘I cannot bear to hear her … she will not stop.’
I frowned. The poor thing was still half asleep. ‘You are confused, Baron Dumbleby.’
‘She came back,’ said the old man, and his milky eyes stared intently into the darkness. ‘She came back to this house.’
‘Yes, I know all about that,’ I said, sitting on the bed beside him. ‘Do not ask me how – Bertha swore me to secrecy and I’m a girl of my word.’
Baron Dumbleby looked startled. ‘You know about Anastasia?’
‘Yes, dear, I just said as much.’
His trembling hand reached for mine. ‘We only wanted the truth about Sebastian – you understand, don’t you? We had no choice …’
‘No choice about what, dear?’
‘A year had passed without a word,’ said the Baron, ‘and then she turned up and told us such a tale – she was delirious.’
‘Who? Anastasia?’
‘That’s right.’ Estelle had come into the bedroom chamber. She stood with her back to the fire, a blue nightdress in her arms. ‘Anastasia told my mother that she and Sebastian had been married and that my brother was dead – my mother turned her away at the door.’
My mind was a fog. I was tired and hungry. It was hard to make sense of what I was being told. ‘Anastasia told your mother that Sebastian was dead?’
Estelle nodded curtly and threw the nightdress aside.
‘But if you knew …’ I stood up and let Baron Dumbleby’s hand slip from mine. ‘Why did you pretend that your mother had not set eyes on Anastasia since she dismissed her?’
‘Because she is a liar!’ hissed Estelle. ‘My mother searched the whole of England and could not find any record of a marriage between them.’ The girl looked at me with something like hatred. ‘I remember her sitting down on the stairs in the hall and telling my mother a story so absurd only a lunatic would believe a word of it.’
‘McCloud was our very best maid,’ declared the Baron, making no sense at all.
‘Hush, Uncle,’ said Estelle firmly, walking towards the bed.
The Baron chuckled. ‘Her name was McGrath, of course, but from the first moment Lady Vivian clapped eyes on her and saw that birthmark under her eye, shaped just like a cloud, it had to be McCloud!’
Something did not add up. I gazed at Estelle. ‘You said that when Anastasia came back your mother turned her away at the door, yet just now you said she was sitting on the stairs in the hall telling her tale.’
‘What does it matter?’ came the terse reply. ‘She sat on the stairs and spun a ridiculous story about being from some faraway world, cursed by a terrible plague.’
I gasped.
‘She wanted my mother to believe that when she was forced to return to this other world, Sebastian had followed her, even though he knew it would cost him his life.’ Estelle laughed coldly. ‘It was the ravings of a lunatic.’
Could it be? Was Anastasia – the mysterious lodger of whom no record could be found – from Prospa? It was shocking. But in a strange sort of way it made sense.
‘Sebastian loved her so much,’ I muttered to myself, ‘that he put on the Clock Diamond and went after her.’
Estelle lunged at me. ‘How do you know about that foolish necklace? It doesn’t exist! It is all lies!’ She shook me rather violently. ‘You saw her, didn’t you?’
I pushed the unhinged girl away. ‘Saw who, you mad cow?’ I patted down my filthy apron with great dignity. ‘As for the foolish necklace, if I weren’t sworn to secrecy, I would tell you that it certainly exists and that there is every chance that Anastasia’s story was utterly true.’
‘You are as deranged as she is!’ spat the girl.
‘The child will have no name,’ said Baron Dumbleby sadly.
I saw blind panic flash across Estelle’s face. ‘He is half asleep, his mind is confused.’
But it was already too late. ‘Anastasia was with child?’ I asked.
‘Don’t be absurd,’ said Estelle.
‘I didn’t see her after it was over,’ said the old man, his voice shaking, ‘but I heard her, for she would not stop that haunting –’
‘She wanted money,’ said Estelle, silencing her uncle again, ‘and my mother knew that Sebastian would never have married her. Yes, she carried a child, but it could not have been his and she was thrown out on to the street.’
But I didn’t believe her. That is why I turned my back on Estelle and looked at her uncle instead. ‘Anastasia had the baby here, didn’t she? That is what you meant when you said you didn’t see her after it was over.’
‘Do not speak, Uncle,’ ordered Estelle. ‘She means to use your words against us.’
But the Baron would not be stopped – he had a story and he meant to tell it. ‘The baby was coming as she sat on the stairs – what else was there to do? She was taken down to the basement where the child was born.’
‘And then?’ I said eagerly.
‘The only way to get her to speak the truth was …’ Baron Dumbleby shuddered, closing his eyes. ‘It was cruel, but the newborn was the only weapon. If she would just tell us what really happened to Sebastian she could have her child.’
I was shaking my head in disbelief. ‘You took her baby away?’
‘What else was my mother to do?’ said Estelle, pacing about the bedroom. ‘This girl claimed to be from another world, she claimed my brother and she had married there, and that he had perished. She was clearly insane and had no business caring for a child.’
My legs seemed to give way and I found myself slumping on the edge of the bed. ‘The baby – you gave it back to her, didn’t you?’
Estelle gave no answer.
‘McCloud was our very best maid!’ cried the Baron. ‘She took the infant away with two hundred pounds and orders not to return until we sent for her.’
My heart was a mallet trying to crack open my chest. Was such cruelty possible? But, of course, it was. ‘Where is the child now?’
‘McCloud promised to love it as her own,’ said the Baron meekly. ‘She had longed for a baby so the child would be well cared for … the child would not suffer.’
‘They settled in Wales,’ said Estelle stiffly. ‘Mother did not wish to correspond with her, but I wrote this past winter and received a note back saying that she and the baby had left there seven years ago, leaving no forwarding address.’
‘And Anastasia,’ I said, ‘what of her?’
‘How should I know?’ snapped Estelle. ‘Mother told her that as soon as she confessed the truth about what she had done, we would return her child. She went on her way and we haven’t heard from her since.’
‘But surely – ?’
I stopped. My mind was circling back. To just a few minutes before. Something I had heard, but not listened to. It was as if the words were threads that had looped themselves into just the right holes, until it was possible to step back and see the finished tapestry. I jumped up off the bed and crouched down beside the Baron.
‘Listen to me,’ I said urgently.
The old man opened his eyes.
‘You said you could not bear to hear her – you were speaking of Anastasia, weren’t you?’
‘She would not stop,’ cried the old man. ‘Her voice carried up from the basement.’
‘Be silent, Uncle!’ Estelle came up behind me, trying to wrench me away. ‘Leave him alone – he is old and feeble of mind.’
I freed myself from her grasp with a small amount of slapping. Kept my gaze firmly on Baron Dumbleby. ‘What was it she would not stop, dear? What did you hear that haunts you so?’
‘Hush, Uncle!’ cried Estelle.
The Baron did not heed her, for he was somewhere far away. His dry lips, which had been sunken into his mouth, pushed out. Then a shaky but unmistakable melody came up and out of him.
‘Mmmm mm mmmm mm,’ he hummed.
‘Sleep and Dream, my Sweet’. The very tune I had heard day and night from my cell at Lashwood. They had separated Anastasia from her baby, then locked her away in Lashwood all these years.
I wanted to weep, but there wasn’t time.
‘You heard her, didn’t you?’ Estelle pulled me roughly to my feet, seizing my shoulders. ‘You heard her humming when you were at Lashwood?’
‘Yes,’ came my faint reply.
‘And you wonder why my mother had her locked away?’ Estelle’s eyes were wild and ferocious. ‘Every week for twelve years my mother would visit her and ask for the truth – offering her freedom if she admitted what she had done.’ She lifted her head defiantly. ‘And now I do the same.’
‘What you are doing is horrid! A child needs its mother and a mother needs her child!’ I pulled my arm free and took a shaky breath. ‘Your brother is dead, dear. You must accept it and stop punishing Anastasia – she did not kill him, I know that for a fact.’
‘She took him away and she must pay the price,’ came the cold reply.
I walked past the hateful girl and headed for the door. ‘I will tell the world what you have done – Anastasia does not belong in that place any more than I did.’
A door banged down below. Then came the sound of raised voices. Followed by hurried footsteps.
‘She is here!’ cried Estelle at the top of her lungs. She lunged at me, grabbing my wrist. ‘Please hurry, she has threatened me with a knife!’
I pulled free and ran.