Castle of Shadows (8 page)

‘First,’ said Peter. ‘You need to know that Alistair Windlass is loved by the people.’

‘I’ve seen the newspapers,’ Charlie said.

‘He is an illusionist! He distracts them with impossible promises: he will stop the recession and make the crops grow, he will single-handedly see off the Esceanians! And all the time he is robbing the Exchequer in order to fund secret scientific laboratories and bribe Esceanian officials.

‘All but the very rich have suffered. Food is scarce. People cannot afford to buy clothes, educate their children, or even pay for a doctor.’ He paused, closed his eyes. When he opened them, he became even more animated. But Charlie saw that the lines etched around
his eyes and on his forehead had deepened. Something had happened to this man. Something bad.

‘There is no longer any pretence of democratic rule,’ Peter continued. ‘When your father became ill, Windlass dissolved Parliament and set up that abomination that sits in its place. He is the paymaster for our military, and their loyalty resides in their wallets! The newspapers print what he dictates or the presses do not run. And the people cheer him! Once they stop believing his promises, they will have nothing left.

‘Those who can see through the illusions and have courage enough, agitate and plot. Some blame the monarchy for our ills and dream of revolution and Utopianism.’

Beside Nell, Joseph stirred, frowning across the table at Peter.

‘I am a pragmatist,’ the Resistance leader continued. ‘Human nature is not perfectible. You only have to look across the Esceanian sea to observe the inevitable result of revolution. And Windlass would sell us to the Emperor!’ His voice grew acid with scorn. ‘He is their man, bought and paid for. That is why I formed the Resistance. Quale will not become part of the Esceanian Empire if I can help it!

‘My question, ma’am, is this. Will you help me to defeat the Prime Minister? We are not a threat to your father, or your own right to inherit the throne. I give you my word of honour.’ His bright eyes held hers with their
intensity. She felt an instinctive liking for this man, but she had liked Windlass too, and the last time she had trusted someone… She glanced at Tobias, caught his eye. He gave an almost invisible shrug.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I believe you.’ She took the letter from her pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Peter. His eyes travelled slowly over the contents, and his body tensed, like a cat which has just spotted an unwary bird. A smile curled across his face. ‘I thank you, Your Highness. We have a chance.’

‘Less than you think,’ said Tobias. ‘Windlass has seen that letter.’

Peter’s eyes flicked up, fastened on hers. ‘Is this true?’

She nodded.

‘When?’

‘Eight days ago,’ she said.

‘
And you’re only just now coming to us?
Even without a head start…’ He clenched the letter in his fist, jumped up from the table and began to pace.

‘I didn’t know you existed before yesterday!’ Charlie cried. She stood, took a hesitant step after him, swallowing as guilt thickened in her throat. ‘He may have found nothing.’

Peter whirled to face her. ‘Alistair Windlass? My dear Princess, do not underestimate him. He will be on Bettina’s trail already. He is a ruthless spymaster and does not tolerate inefficiency. But…there is still a slight chance. On the other hand…’ His funny, mobile face took on a
calculating look. Charlie felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. ‘You are, yourself, a node of power. Do you understand my meaning?’

It was all too familiar. A pawn. A tool. And she had liked this man! ‘You mean I could be useful to you. Because of who I am!’ She didn’t quite manage to keep the anger and hurt out of her voice. His eyes caught hers and softened. He shrugged and smiled, as though they shared a joke that was both sad and funny.

‘Indeed, Your Highness. Insurrection. A princess of Quale would make a valuable figurehead in a rebellion against the Prime Minister.’ He shrugged again. ‘Alas, we are not well enough armed for that, nor are we professional soldiers. It would be suicide. The army obeys the Prime Minister.’ He frowned. ‘Still, I am reluctant to let you slip back under his control. It might be safer to keep you. And it would certainly unsettle Mr Windlass. There is also the possibility of treating with the Durch and the Bohemians. Perhaps the North Islanders. With you in our hands, we might be able to rally Quale’s former allies, although I admit the chance is remote…unless we can secure this weapon that Windlass seeks…but on the whole… No, I am not inclined to let you return to the Castle.’

‘That’s for Charlie to decide,’ Tobias said. He had moved to stand beside her. ‘We came here in good faith, and we’re leaving when
we
choose, not you!’

Peter’s eyes swivelled to Tobias. ‘I suggest, Master
Petch, that you hold your tongue!’ His voice was cold; his eyes colder.

Charlie sensed danger. A thief, no matter how talented, was of less use to the Resistance than a princess.

‘Leave him alone, Peter!’ cried Nell. ‘He’s right. It’s kidnapping! I won’t have nothing to do with it!’

Tobias lurched forward. Charlie grabbed his arm and pulled him back. ‘I thought you wanted to beat Windlass!’ she shouted at Peter. ‘Well, you won’t do it unless you stop being so
very
stupid!’

His attention switched to her. Her temper didn’t improve when she saw that he looked amused. ‘You have another suggestion, Your Highness?’

‘Yes! You need spies in the Castle. That’s why you sent Nell there. That’s why you asked Tobias to pick locks for you, though I doubt he’ll want to now! But you can do better. If you want someone to spy on the Prime Minister, use me!’

He blinked. ‘I am intrigued. Carry on.’

‘The Prime Minister has decided that I will make a useful puppet. He’s teaching me Statecraft three times a week. He wants to show me off to the people to try and keep them loyal to the monarchy and keep them from turning to such as you.’ She paused for breath. Her heart was thumping hard. ‘I’ll do a deal with you. You want to know about this weapon Windlass is trying to make. I’ll find out whatever I can. You help me find Bettina and my mother. Do your part, and I’ll do mine. Is it a deal?’

Peter gazed at her, his eyes thoughtful. ‘The weapon is the key. Windlass wants it more than anything and, therefore, I will do anything to stop him getting it.’ He bowed, a sweeping courtier’s obeisance. It was beautifully done, and she guessed his profession at last: he was an actor. He straightened, grinning. ‘Agreed, Your Highness. Welcome to the Resistance!’

‘I ain’t gonna turn thief for that jumped-up jackanapes!’ Tobias snarled as he climbed into the carriage for the return trip through the tunnel.

‘I’m sorry!’ Nell was standing at the steam engine controls. It had taken half an hour to build up enough pressure in the boiler. They were all ratty with nerves, terrified that someone would spot the smoke rising from the chimney of a building which should be unoccupied. ‘Try to understand. We’ve lost so many people lately to Windlass’s spies. Peter has to be careful. Or we’ll all end up dead…or shipped off to the penal colonies.’

‘Yes, please shut up about it!’ snapped Charlie. It was nearly dawn. She was exhausted, and she still had to go back through the tunnel. ‘The only thing that matters is beating the Prime Minister.’ She grabbed Tobias’s hand and held it tight as the carriage slipped forward into darkness.

By the time they had emerged at the other end he had relented. ‘I did say I’d work with the Devil himself against Windlass.’

‘I know. Why?’

He ignored her question, squatting to open the firebox door on the Castle’s steam engine. ‘Good. That’ll
be cold by morning. O’Dair won’t know we used it; unless she weighs the coal every day. Wouldn’t put it past her.’

‘I asked you a question,’ said Charlie.

‘So?’ He turned round, wiping his hands on his trousers. ‘Don’t mean I got to answer it.’

‘Why do you hate Windlass? Why get involved at all? And don’t tell me it’s to do Nell a favour. You don’t do favours.’

He looked at her, his head cocked to one side. She waited for him to tell her to mind her own business. ‘You don’t know anything about me, Charlie. You don’t know if I do favours or not. I’m helping the Resistance because Windlass is rotten and what he’s doing is rotten. If you see someone doing something wrong and you can stop ’em, then you ought to have a go. That’s all. There’s no mystery. Now, let’s get out of here. I got to be at work in two hours!’ He marched out the door, taking the lantern with him. Charlie ran to keep up. Peter was right: Tobias was a good liar. But she hadn’t believed a word.

She raced through the Castle, cursing the long, heavy skirts of her new dress and the shiny black boots that skittered on the floor and sent her sliding out of control whenever she rounded a corner. She was looking for Nell, and she only had half an hour before she was due in the Prime Minister’s office for her first lesson in Statecraft. The idea of meeting Windlass again terrified her: how could she look him in the eyes and pretend she didn’t
know what he had done? But she didn’t have time to worry about it now.

She was pelting along a second-floor corridor when a voice rang out. ‘Do that again, Alfie Postlethwaite, and I’ll break your nose for you!’ She had found Nell Sorrell. Charlie heard the sound of a hand striking flesh and a gasp of pain. She pushed through a half-open door and was confronted with the spectacle of the gawky footman cowering and cringing as Nell boxed his ears, delivering a ringing slap to one side of his head and then the other.

‘Leave off, Nell, do!’ he moaned, dancing away and rubbing his ears with large, red-knuckled hands. ‘It were only a little kiss.’

‘Well you can go and kiss the Castle hounds! But don’t you dare kiss me again, you great lummox, or I’ll give you worse than that!’ Nell’s cap was askew, her brown hair tumbled about her flushed face, and her eyes flashed golden sparks.

Charlie jumped up and down in delight. ‘Hit him again!’

Both servants turned, both dropped their mouths open. Nell grinned, but Alfred blushed until his spots turned purple.

‘Go away, Alfie,’ Nell said. ‘You got no business here.’

‘Nor has she!’ Alfred muttered, scowling. But he left.

‘Well, Charlie?’ Nell walked to the dressing table and stood, tucking her hair in her cap and straightening her apron. ‘Is Tobias with us?’

‘Yes. That’s what I came to tell you. We’re going to search Windlass’s office tonight. See what we can find out about the weapon.’

‘Both of you?’ Nell turned from the mirror, frowning. ‘I don’t like it. You shouldn’t be involved in all this sneaking about and spying. It isn’t safe. I better go instead.’

‘I’m going. I may not know much about my mother’s research, but I know more than you or Tobias.’

‘You’re just a kid.’

‘Tobias is only a year older!’

‘Yes. But he’s a Petch.’

‘I’m going, and you can’t stop me.’

Nell sighed. ‘All right. No point all three of us clumping around in the dark. Just promise to be careful. And let me know what you find out. We’ll need to set up regular meeting times. Tuesdays and Thursdays, after your lessons, starting tomorrow. I’ll be waiting in the room next to the schoolroom. If anyone asks where you’ve been, you can say the Professor kept you late. Now get out of here. O’Dair is particular about her bedroom.’

Nell picked up a feather duster and began dabbing at the ornaments on the marble overmantel. Charlie disliked the Rosamund suite, with its pink and gilt wallpaper and thick cream carpet patterned with roses. O’Dair was welcome to it. At the thought of the housekeeper, the scent of oil of cloves and mothballs wafted through the room. Charlie shuddered and turned to go.

Mrs O’Dair stood in the open door, Alfie quivering behind her like a skinny shadow. At Charlie’s gasp, Nell turned from the fireplace and curtsied. ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ she said. ‘Nearly done.’

O’Dair advanced into the room. A muscular hand swooped out and caught Charlie by the wrist. The hand twisted, and Charlie winced. She glared up at the housekeeper, determined not to make a sound, not even if O’Dair broke her arm. ‘What is this creature doing in my bedroom?’ O’Dair shoved Charlie towards Nell.

Nell looked through Charlie as though she was invisible. ‘If you mean Princess Charlotte, ma’am, she wandered in here a few minutes ago. I couldn’t say why. Didn’t feel it was my place to ask. Perhaps she was searching for you? With her mother gone away and all, I expect the poor child looks to you for comfort and guidance. ’Twould only be natural.’ Nell smiled at Mrs O’Dair, seeming not to notice the housekeeper’s face turning the colour of stewed plum pudding.

‘And I see that you are as thick-witted as that seamstress aunt of yours! Stupidity must run in your family!’ spat O’Dair. She grabbed Charlie’s shoulders and began to shake her. ‘Why are you in my bedroom? Tell me the truth!’

Charlie stared up at the housekeeper. She didn’t dare look at Nell. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her brain seemed to have stopped. What possible reason could she have for being here? ‘I…I d-don’t––’

‘Check her pockets, ma’am!’ hissed Alfie, wriggling from one skinny, black-clad leg to the other in his excitement. ‘She put manure in my boots. She’s up to some such mischief, I’ll be bound!’

Charlie looked from O’Dair’s furious face to Alfie’s spiteful one. She could have kissed him. ‘I wouldn’t!’ She cringed with pretended guilt. ‘I never would, Mrs O’Dair. It isn’t true!’

Mrs O’Dair’s great prow of a nose sniffed. The nostrils flared. ‘Not manure, no.’ Her thick fingers felt in Charlie’s pockets. She pulled out a crusty handkerchief, an ancient apple core, a withered conker, a pencil stub and a silver thruppence. O’Dair scowled at the things nestling in the bowl of her palm. She plucked out the thruppence and shoved the rest at Charlie. ‘Nothing,’ she growled. ‘But I’ve no doubt you had mischief in mind. Not this time, my girl! No fancy dinner in the dining room for you tonight. You’ll have bread and water in your bedroom. I shall instruct the kitchen. Go!’

Charlie was five minutes late for her lesson with the Prime Minister. She stood outside his office door, waiting while the guard announced her, and felt sick. He would take one look at her face and know that she hated him. Her palms and armpits prickled with sweat.

She kept her head down as she entered. Her heart was thumping. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Her boots clattered across the floor as she
scurried to the chair in front of Windlass’s desk. She was aware of his eyes on her the whole time.

‘Are you quite well, Charlie? You seem out of breath, and you look pale.’

How dare he pretend to be some sort of adopted uncle, full of concern and kindness, when he was responsible for her mother’s disappearance and her father’s illness? Hatred swallowed her fear. She would pay him out if it took the rest of her life!

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, lifting her head, making herself look him in the eyes. ‘I was running because I was late.’

‘And why were you late?’

‘The Professor was explaining Latin declensions. It was so interesting that we forgot the time.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m pleased you find Latin grammar so fascinating.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘And I’m pleased to see you suitably dressed. Do you like your new clothes?’

She hated her new clothes. There were too many layers and too many buttons. Her dress was made of thick moss-green wool with a scratchy lace collar and cuffs. It had taken her twenty minutes to button her new boots. She also hated being tidy and clean. Her scalp ached from tugging her hairbrush through tangles, and she had scraped and scrubbed her fingernails until the ends were as white as Mr Moleglass’s handkerchief. She had been
rubbing them against her dress all morning, trying to wear away the naked feeling.

‘Well?’ Windlass sat on the end of his desk, his arms crossed. His face was serious, but she thought he was probably laughing inside.

Very well. She would tell him the truth. Perhaps it would amuse him even further. All the safer for her if he thought her a figure of fun. ‘It isn’t fair!’ she said.

‘Many things are not,’ he agreed. ‘Which one did you have in mind? I’m not particularly fond of boiled tongue myself. But the cook keeps sending it.’

He
was
laughing at her. Indignation surged through her. She didn’t have to pretend now. ‘Not that. That’s stupid! Clothes! Girls’ clothes! Would you like to have to wear long skirts? With petticoats?’

His eyes widened in surprise. He put a hand over his mouth and gazed down at his trousers of soft grey wool, chalk-striped with palest blue. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, I can’t say I would.’

‘Well?’ she snapped. ‘Why should I have to just because I’m a girl? You can’t run or climb properly in skirts. Trousers are much more practical.’

Windlass stared at her over his hand. ‘I have to agree with you,’ he said. ‘However.’ He removed his hand, and his face was even more solemn. ‘We do not live in a logical world. We are bound by custom and prejudice and…’ he smiled at her ‘…Etiquette. I think it most sensible of you to wish to wear trousers, Your Highness. However, that
wish must remain unfulfilled. And no, it isn’t fair. If it’s any comfort, you look charming.’

‘That’s no comfort at all,’ Charlie snapped. ‘In fact, it makes it worse.’

‘Spoken like your mother’s child,’ said Alistair Windlass. He leapt to his feet and picked up the hamper resting beside his desk. I think we’ll picnic in the library today.’ He strode to the door and flung it open. ‘Come along!’ He disappeared without a backward glance. Charlie took a last look around the room she hoped to break into that very night, jumped off her chair, and followed.

‘What do you know about Esceania?’

Deeply embedded in the squashy cushions of one of the library sofas, Charlie peered over her ham sandwich at the Prime Minister. The bite of ham and bread seemed to swell in her mouth until she could barely chew, let alone speak. Windlass was leaning against one of the library tables, twirling the globe that stood upon it. He waited for her to answer his question. She sensed his impatience, although his expression did not change, and his fingers continued to stroke the globe.

She swallowed the lump of sandwich, trying to remember everything Professor Meadowsweet had told her about Esceania. ‘Um…’ she said. Windlass’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she felt a chill slide down her back. The gently teasing man of fifteen minutes ago had vanished. This Alistair Windlass expected clever answers
to his questions. He expected her to be her mother’s daughter and, much as she hated him, part of her wanted to prove that she was. ‘I-it’s our nearest neighbour,’ she stammered. ‘Our ally in the Lascauxian Alliance, along with the Durch Principalities. We conquered the Western Hemisphere in the Saltpetre War of 17…’ her voice trailed off. She had forgotten the year.

‘Of 1773. Good as far as it goes, which isn’t very far. What do you actually
know
of Esceania?’ His silver eyes glinted at her.

‘I know that Esceania is the greatest imperial power in the world. That our alliance is one of convenience. I think…’ She paused. This was getting into dangerous territory. ‘I think we shouldn’t trust them.’

‘Why not?’ he snapped.

‘Because…because their empire is expanding. Ours is shrinking. They’re growing stronger than us. And if we let them get too strong…’ She hesitated, looked into Windlass’s eyes. ‘…they’ll invade.’

He smiled, gave the globe a vicious twist that set it whirling and rattling on its stand, then clamped his fingers on its painted face and stopped it dead. ‘Excellent. You’re not just Meadowsweet’s parrot – you can think! You’re right. Esceania seeks to dominate the world. Our job is to prevent that. How?’

Her mouth fell open. ‘I-I don’t know! We need to build up our army, our navy. Form new alliances with other countries––’

‘Too late! The past five years of recession mean that our resources are stretched beyond what the country can bear. All our old allies are either already in Esceania’s thrall or too frightened to offer even a show of resistance. We’re on our own, and the threat grows ever nearer.’ Windlass leant forward. ‘What we need, Charlie, is a scientific breakthrough. We need a new technology of war.’

Her heart was hammering in her chest. This was it. This was what her mother had created and ran from. This was what the Resistance wanted. She swallowed and prayed her voice wouldn’t wobble. ‘And do you have one?’

He smiled at her. ‘Not yet. But I shall. I don’t intend to fail.’