The Trouble at Wakeley Court (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 8) (21 page)

‘Then let’s stop talking about it and go and look for her,’ said Violet with sudden decision. ‘We can’t go chasing across the country after her, but at the very least we can search around here. The grounds are big enough, after all. She might be anywhere.’

‘Well, she’s not in the lake, at any rate,’ said Barbara. ‘Look here, it’s too dark to go out now, but we might scout around inside for a bit. It’s always possible that she’s hiding somewhere in the building.’

‘All right. Where shall we look first?’

‘Well, there’s no use in searching any of the downstairs rooms, is there?’ said Barbara. ‘They’re all in use. And the servants are in and out of their quarters all day long, so there’d be nowhere to hide in that part of the building.’

‘What about a cupboard?’ said Violet. ‘A cupboard would make a good hiding-place.’

‘Not for three days,’ said Barbara. ‘No, if she’s anywhere indoors she’ll be upstairs, probably in the attics. Let’s go and look there, shall we? No—first we’ll need a torch. I’ll run up and get one, and meet you by the door to the attic stairs.’

‘Where is it?’ said Violet. ‘I’ve never been. And I thought the attics were out of bounds to us girls. Didn’t you promise that you wouldn’t go up again?’

Barbara regarded her pityingly.

‘Yes, I did,’ she said, ‘but this is important. Look here, you do know that we’ll have to break a rule or two if we’re going to find Florrie, don’t you?’

‘Ye-es,’ said Violet doubtfully.

‘Well, come on, then,’ said Barbara.

Five minutes later they were standing at the foot of the stairs to the third floor corridor, which, as Violet had pointed out, the girls were forbidden to enter. It was home to the kitchen-maids and the cook, and at present was likely to be quite deserted since the servants would all still be clearing up after dinner.

‘It’s up here,’ said Barbara and put a foot on the bottom stair. No sooner had she done so than they heard a sharp voice addressing them and they jumped. It was Miss Finch, who had just come out of a room to their left.

‘Girls!’ she said. ‘What do you think you’re doing? You know perfectly well that you are not allowed to enter this part of the building. Violet, I am surprised at you. I’m afraid this will mean a black mark for you both.’

Violet went a deep pink but held her tongue as Miss Finch escorted the two of them back downstairs, scolding all the while, then gave them some lines and forbade them from leaving the Fourth Form common-room for the rest of the evening.

‘But what were you doing going up to the attics anyway?’ said Melisande Bartlett-Hendry in surprise, when she heard what had happened. ‘It’ll be pitch dark up there, and you know it’s haunted.’

‘Of course it’s not haunted,’ said Barbara. ‘I told you, that was me banging about.’

‘What, all yesterday?’ said Melisande.

‘Don’t be silly,’ said Barbara. ‘I was here yesterday. You saw me.’

‘Well, then, it must have been the ghost,’ said Melisande triumphantly. ‘Bessie said they’ve heard all sorts of mysterious noises coming from upstairs lately. Cook said it was probably bats but Bessie thinks it’s far too loud for that, and she’s certain the place is haunted. All the maids are terrified—I dare say I should be myself if I had to sleep on the third floor.’

She then returned to her French composition and Barbara and Violet glanced at each other.

‘We simply have to get up to the attics,’ said Barbara in a low voice.

‘But what about Miss Finch?’ said Violet. ‘Her room is at the bottom of the stairs. She’ll see us if we try again.’

‘She might not be there,’ said Barbara. ‘I’ll just slip along and have a look.’

She returned a minute or two later, shaking her head.

‘It’s no good,’ she said. ‘She’s in there with the door wide open, marking books. I shouldn’t be surprised if she suspects we’re up to something.’

To their annoyance, Miss Finch remained firmly in place for the rest of the evening, and when the bell rang for bed-time Barbara and Violet had no choice but to go up with the rest of the girls.

‘Don’t undress,’ said Barbara. ‘We’ll have to do it tonight.’

‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’ said Violet, whose initial enthusiasm for rebellion was rapidly wearing off.

‘But what if she’s hurt?’ said Barbara. ‘I’m sure she’d have come out by now if she could have. Listen, it won’t take long at all, I’m sure of it. We’ll just go up and have a quick look around, and if she’s there we’ll bring her down here or fetch help if we need to. It’ll be as easy as anything.’

‘But it’ll be dark. Wouldn’t it make more sense to tell one of the teachers about it instead?’ said Violet.

‘We’ve already tried. You’ve seen for yourself what Miss Finch thinks of our ideas. Why should any of the others listen to us when she won’t? No,’ said Barbara firmly, ‘this is the only way.’

There was no deterring Barbara when she had a plan in her head, and so Violet reluctantly agreed. Barbara promised to wake her up at two o’clock or thereabouts, and shortly afterwards the lights went out in the Fourth Form dormitory, with two of the girls still fully dressed under the bedclothes, and one of them, at least, looking forward to a night-time adventure.

Alas! For as the poet says, even the best laid plans may go awry. Barbara had gone to sleep, telling herself firmly several times to wake up at two o’clock, but when she did finally awaken and look at her watch, she found to her dismay that it was after five. If they were going to search the attics they would have to hurry before the servants got up and spotted them. She slipped out of bed as quietly as possible and shook Violet awake, and they both tiptoed out of the dorm. Within a very few minutes they were creeping along the third floor passage, listening carefully for the sound of anyone stirring, but all they could hear was snoring coming from one of the rooms. Barbara flashed her torch towards the end of the corridor and pointed. In a little recess to the right was a low, narrow door.

‘There,’ she whispered. ‘It creaks, so be careful.’

She led the way to the door, turned the handle and pushed it open very slowly, but even so it emitted a low groan. They froze and listened, but no-one came. Behind the door the darkness was complete, and Violet clutched nervously at Barbara’s arm.

‘Don’t leave me,’ she said.

‘Didn’t you bring a torch?’ said Barbara.

‘I haven’t got one,’ said Violet.

Barbara rolled her eyes in the gloom but merely said, ‘There are stairs here. I’ll go first. Tread carefully.’

The stairs were steep and narrow and creaked a little, and they ascended as quietly as they could. At the top it was slightly less dark and the air was cooler and fresher, and as Barbara waved the torch around Violet saw that they had emerged into a large space under the roof of the building. As might have been expected, the place was full of stuff: broken chairs, old desks, piles of boxes and other assorted oddments that had been brought up here to be left and forgotten about.

‘Don’t walk too heavily,’ said Barbara. ‘Remember the servants are sleeping below.’

‘There doesn’t seem to be anything up here,’ said Violet.

‘No,’ agreed Barbara, ‘but I’ll just take a quick look around in case she’s asleep, or something.’

She took a few steps and swept the darkest corners of the room with her torch, but saw nothing.

‘Shall we go down now?’ said Violet, who was frightened but did not like to admit it.

‘There’s another room over there,’ said Barbara. ‘That’s the way out onto the roof.’

Violet looked towards where she had pointed and saw another door in a far wall, and realized that this was not the only attic room. Barbara was already heading towards the door, and Violet followed hurriedly, stumbling over a broken stool as she did so.

‘Shh!’ hissed Barbara.

‘Sorry,’ whispered Violet, but Barbara was flapping at her to be quiet. They stopped and listened. Was it their imagination, or had there been an answering thump when Violet had made the noise? At that moment, Violet would quite happily have made a run for it back down the stairs, but Barbara was pressing on and so she had no choice but to follow or be left in the dark. They went through the door together and found themselves in a smaller room. This one was empty.

‘That’s the way out to the roof,’ said Barbara, waving her torch at a small flight of steps with a door at the top. ‘It’s locked now so we can’t get out.’ She glanced about. ‘There’s nothing in here. The last room is through there. Oh!’

‘What is it?’ said Violet nervously.

‘Look,’ said Barbara. She crept across and shone her torch on a door of only five feet in height which was set into the very darkest corner of the opposite wall. Violet followed and gazed at the thing Barbara was indicating. It was the door handle, which had evidently come loose and fallen off. The two girls stared at each other and Barbara placed a finger over her lips. They listened, and as they did so they heard an unmistakable scraping sound coming from the other side, which made them both jump and clutch each other.

‘Somebody’s in there!’ whispered Violet, terrified.

Even Barbara was quailing slightly by now. She hesitated, then took a deep breath, set her jaw and knocked gently. The scraping noise stopped immediately, to be replaced by utter silence.

‘No answer,’ she said.

Violet pulled herself together with an effort.

‘You’ve probably terrified the life out of whoever it is,’ she said. She tapped on the door and hissed, ‘Florrie! Are you in there?’

There was a squeak of surprise and the sound of someone scrambling to their feet.

‘Who’s that?’ came Florrie’s quavering voice. ‘Barbara, is that you?’

‘Yes,’ said Barbara in relief. ‘How on earth did you get in there? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!’

‘I can’t get out,’ said Florrie. ‘The handle fell off the door and I’ve been stuck here for simply ages. I knocked and yelled but nobody came. Please get me out.’

‘I’m trying,’ said Barbara, who had picked up the door handle and was attempting vainly to put it back on. ‘It’s no use. Something’s broken off here and it won’t fit on. Can’t you open it from your side?’

‘Do you suppose I’d still be here if I could?’ said Florrie, sounding exasperated. ‘The whole thing fell apart when I shut the door and trapped me inside.’

‘Just a second, then,’ said Barbara.

‘How are we going to get it open?’ said Violet. ‘That bit there is completely snapped.’

‘We might break the door down,’ suggested Barbara.

‘I’ve already tried that,’ said Florrie from the other side. ‘It’s no use. It’s completely solid.’

‘Then we’ll need some tools to get this lock off,’ said Violet. ‘Where can we get them?’

Barbara thought for a second, then an idea came to her.

‘William!’ she said. ‘Let’s go and fetch William.’

‘Your aunt’s chauffeur?’ said Violet. ‘The American?’

‘She’s not my aunt, she’s my godmother,’ said Barbara. ‘Listen, Flo,’ she said through the door. ‘We’re going to get William to fix the door for us. We’ll be back as soon as we can.’

‘Can he be trusted?’ said Florrie, and her voice sounded suddenly frightened.

‘Of course he can,’ said Barbara. ‘Now, don’t worry—we’ll be back in a trice, I promise.’

In no time at all Barbara and Violet were hurrying across the lawn to the coach-house.

‘We can’t just barge in there,’ said Barbara when they arrived. She scooped up a handful of gravel and threw it at the top window. Most of it missed, but some hit its target, and within a minute or two William appeared at the window, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Barbara beckoned vigorously and he nodded and turned away. Two minutes later he emerged from the building in his shirt-sleeves.

‘What’s all this?’ he said. ‘Oughtn’t you two to be in bed?’

‘We’ve found her, but the handle fell off and she’s been there for days so you’ll need to bring a screwdriver or something,’ said Barbara breathlessly.

William raised his eyebrows and looked to Violet for a translation.

‘Florrie is stuck in the attic,’ she said. ‘Could you help us get her out, please?’

‘What were you doing in the attic at this time of night?’ said William. ‘I can’t join in your tricks, Miss Barbara, you know that. I’ll get into all kinds of trouble if I get caught.’

‘It’s not a trick, I promise,’ said Barbara. ‘Florrie’s been missing for days and nobody seems to care because of Irina, so we went to look for her ourselves and now we’ve found her and she’s locked in and needs our help.
Do
please come. If we go and get Miss Finch she’ll just give us a terrible scolding for going up there, and then even if she does listen to us all she’ll do is fetch you or someone else anyway, and by that time another few hours will have gone by and perhaps Flo will have starved to death by then. Besides, we promised her we’d be back in a minute.’

William looked at the two girls’ worried faces and relented.

‘All right, then,’ he said. ‘I’ll come. But you’d better not be kidding me.’

The girls assured him of their sincerity, and he disappeared inside and returned, wearing his jacket this time, and carrying a small roll of tools and a torch, which he shoved in his pocket.

‘The attics are up here, through the servants’ quarters,’ said Barbara, when they reached the stairs to the third floor. ‘Be careful not to wake the kitchen-maids up.’

‘I’m going to be in big trouble if they catch me up here,’ muttered William, glancing about nervously.

‘Well, then, keep quiet and they won’t,’ said Barbara.

They reached the door at the end of the third floor passage without incident, and climbed the attic stairs.

‘Are you still there, Florrie?’ said Barbara, knocking on the door of the end room.

‘Where else would I be?’ came an impatient voice.

‘We’ve brought William. He’s going to get the door open. You’d better stand back in case he has to kick it down.’

‘No need for that,’ said William, examining the lock by the light of his torch. ‘I reckon a couple of minutes ought to do the job.’

He set to work, and within a very short time something clanged to the floor and the door swung open. They peered into the room and saw a white-faced and very grubby Florrie shielding her eyes against the light of their torches. She was holding something in her hand. It was a small but lethal-looking knife.