13 Treasures Page 10

  All was quiet on the second floor of the house, though this did nothing to quell her nerves. She made her way to the darkened alcove with the tapestry concealing the servants’ staircase, and sat down, waiting.

  Seconds after she had sunk into the chair, a door flew open at the other end of the landing. Slow, unsteady footsteps came padding in her direction. She did not have to see the person to know it was Amos; the labored breathing that grew louder with every step confirmed it was him. She watched from the alcove as the old man’s elongated shadow stretched before her, edging forward until his stooped frame came into view.

  She was not prepared for the sight of him. Since the last time she had seen him he seemed to have aged more than a decade. His face was sunken, his cheeks hollow and his body wizened. He had several days’ worth of gray stubble, and many years’ worth of scraggly white hair.

  He moved with difficulty, his mad eyes fixed and staring. He did not see Tanya, motionless in the shadows. She did not even realize she had been holding her breath until he passed her, slamming the bathroom door, and it was then the thought occurred to her how odd it was for someone so frail-looking to have so much pent-up aggression.

  “Tanya! Over here,” came Fabian’s voice.

  Tanya eased herself out of the chair cautiously, hardly daring to move.

  “Where are you?”

  “Over here, quickly!”

  His voice was coming from a gloomy corridor just beyond the bathroom. Hastily, Tanya tiptoed past, knowing that any second Amos could open the door and see her. She found Fabian waiting anxiously behind a door adjacent to the bathroom.

  “In here,” he said, opening the door wider for her to step through. He closed it just as the toilet in the bathroom flushed.

  “Why are we standing in the dark?” Tanya asked, her eyes flitting about nervously.

  “Quiet,” Fabian whispered. They listened to the floorboards creaking as Amos went back to his room. Once Tanya’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she glanced about the room. It had not been used in some time. There was no carpet or curtains, and the lightbulb was bare. The only furniture was a rickety bed and a crooked old wardrobe with one door.

  “Why are we in the dark?” Tanya repeated, still shivering slightly. She could not seem to get warm.

  “Because we’re not supposed to be up here,” said Fabian. “If I put the light on it could be seen from under the door or through the window.” He sat down on the floor, motioning for Tanya to do the same.

  “What’s going on?” she said.

  Fabian closed his eyes tightly. “The newspaper clipping you found—what exactly did it say?”

  “I told you,” said Tanya.

  “Tell me again.”

  “It said that a fourteen-year-old girl named Morwenna Bloom disappeared in Hangman’s Wood, and everyone thought she had fallen into the catacombs. Oh, and that she was a reverend’s daughter.”

  “That’s all?”

  “It’s all I can remember.”

  “It didn’t mention anything about a boy… who saw her?”

  Tanya went quiet for a moment.

  “Yes,” she admitted at last. “I remember now. There was something about a local boy. It said he was the last person ever to see her, and that she was standing by the catacombs. Then it said he was questioned by the police but released without charge.” She stopped and watched Fabian in the muted moonlight streaming in through the window. His pale face was troubled.

  “What’s all this about, Fabian? Do you know who he was?”

  Fabian lowered his head and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Yes. Only I wish I didn’t. It… it was my grandfather. It was Amos.”

  A terrible silence hung in the air. Outside, an owl hooted. Downstairs, a door slammed in the hallway.

  “Fabian!” Warwick bellowed.

  Tanya glanced at Fabian in alarm. He held a finger to his lips, his eyes glittering in the dim light.

  “Fabian!”

  Footsteps thundered on the first-floor staircase. A door slammed. Then another.

  “What does he want?” said Tanya. “He only saw you a few minutes ago!”

  “Don’t worry,” said Fabian. “He won’t come up here.”

  The creaking of the second-floor staircase told them he was wrong. Keys jangled and more doors opened and slammed shut. Warwick’s voice grew nearer—and angrier.

  “FABIAN!”

  Amos began to shriek in his room, disrupted by the noise.

  “Get under the bed!” Fabian hissed.

  The two of them scrambled beneath the low bed with difficulty and huddled together. The floorboards in the narrow space underneath were coated in a heavy layer of dust, and to Tanya’s horror an enormous black spider lurked in a cobweb right in front of her face.

  “I can’t stay under here!”

  “We don’t have any other option!” Fabian said fiercely.

  “But—”

  “Quiet!”

  Tanya bit her lip and forced her eyes away. A broken spring dug into her head and tangled in her hair, and she could smell the musty dampness of the mattress above. It smelled like it had been peed on, but whether by animal or human Tanya could not tell. Fabian tensed up beside her as Warwick entered the room next door, leaving seconds later. His footsteps drew nearer. Tanya’s breath caught in her throat as Warwick slowly, deliberately paused outside. The door swung open violently, and the light from the hallway streamed in.

  Warwick entered the room breathing heavily, coming so close to their hiding place that Tanya could see the clumps of mud on his boots. He snapped on the light switch. Fortunately it was broken. He swore and turned it off again, taking another slow step toward the bed. It was then that Tanya knew what it was to be paralyzed by fear. All she could feel was her heart thudding in her rib cage, pounding erratically until she was convinced she could hear it. For a split second, the ridiculous notion that Warwick too could hear it entered her mind. She waited, not even daring to breathe; expecting any minute now for him to kneel down and see them. Instead he turned abruptly and left, banging the door behind him.

  Tanya released the breath she had been holding, and felt Fabian sag with relief next to her. They listened as Warwick strode across the landing from room to room, checking each one. Eventually he went downstairs, where his footsteps faded altogether. All that was left for them to hear was Amos’s ranting.

  Tanya eased herself out from under the bed, glad that Warwick was safely out of the way for the time being. Fabian, however, did not look at all relieved. He raked a hand nervously through his straw-colored hair.

  “We don’t have much time. He won’t stop looking until he finds me.”

  “Hurry up and tell me what this is about, then,” said Tanya, her teeth starting to chatter.

  “All right,” said Fabian, looking uncomfortable. “Here goes. On… on the evening Morwenna disappeared, nobody was concerned when she was a little later to return home than usual. She’d lived in these parts her whole life, and she knew the woods well enough not to get lost in them. It was only when it started to get dark that her parents began to worry, because Morwenna hated the dark and never stayed out after nightfall.

  “When they found out she wasn’t with Florence, they panicked. They got a search party together of friends and neighbors, and went into the woods to look for her, thinking that maybe she had hurt herself and couldn’t make it back.

  “After hours of searching the hunt was abandoned. The next day rescuers were lowered into the catacombs to look for her, but there was no sign. Then the police had a tip-off. A churchgoer had seen Morwenna entering the woods on the evening of her disappearance with a boy a couple of years older than her.”

  Fabian paused. “Amos fit the description exactly. He was even wearing the same clothes when they came for him.” He stopped speaking and looked down at his hands. Tanya followed his gaze and noticed for the first time that his fingernails were bitten back.

  “They
questioned him,” said Fabian. “They wanted to know why he hadn’t come forward. He told them he was scared of what people might think, what they might say. He said he had been passing through the woods and seen her, but that was all there was to it. He didn’t know any more than anyone else. In the end they had to release him; they had no other evidence to link him to her disappearance.

  “As for Morwenna, well… you know the rest. It was like she just vanished off the face of the earth. Her family moved away a few years later, when it was clear she wasn’t coming back. And things changed for Amos after that, too. People began to avoid him.”

  “But why?” Tanya asked. “You said there was no evidence against him.”

  “That doesn’t stop people talking, or insinuating, or accusing. There were rumors, suggestions that he was involved somehow—that he’d pushed her… or killed her first then disposed of her body in the catacombs.”

  “But why?” Tanya asked. “What would his motive be?”

  “It was common knowledge that Amos had… had a thing for her. They’d been seeing each other for a few weeks, apparently. But Morwenna had broken it off—and broken his heart.” Fabian hung his head miserably. “People thought he was angry and frustrated, that he might have followed her, tried to get her to change her mind. Maybe they had a fight. Or maybe he wanted… he tried to… oh, I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  But he did know, and so did Tanya. But neither of them wanted to say it.

  “For the people of Tickey End suspicion was just as good as proof, because an accusation sticks. People will always look at you wondering if there’s a possibility you really did do it.”

  “Why didn’t he just leave?” said Tanya. “Move away, and start over again?”

  “Why should he?” said Fabian. “Why should he leave when he did nothing wrong?” His voice faltered. “Besides, it would only have fueled the rumors. He didn’t want to appear to be running away.” He looked into Tanya’s face, his eyes pleading for understanding.

  “Can you imagine how it must feel to have people look at you, wondering if you’re a killer? Can you imagine how Warwick must have felt, growing up known as the son of a murderer? I’ve seen the looks he gets from people in Tickey End. All his life he’s had to put up with the stares… and the comments. They still talk about it, even now.”

  It was a terrible thought. A small part of Tanya suddenly pitied Warwick. No wonder he was so curt and unfriendly. People had made him that way. And now she could see why Fabian never brought any friends back to the manor: no one wanted to be associated with those living there.

  “Amos never found another job after that. Nobody wanted to employ him. That’s why he ended up staying at Elvesden Manor for so many years. When he eventually married, it was to a Danish girl called Elsa who didn’t speak much English, and the marriage only lasted until just after Warwick was born. As soon as she heard the rumors she left, leaving Amos to raise my father alone. And now he grows older and madder with every day.”

  Tanya felt an unexpected lump come to her throat.

  “The thing is,” said Fabian, “I was always convinced of his innocence. But after today, I—I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

  Tanya stared at him in horror.

  “You can’t be serious? You think… you think he did it? That he killed her?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” said Fabian. “Ever since I saw that photograph all sorts of things have been going through my mind.”

  “What things?”

  Fabian bit his lip. “Horrible things. Do you… do you believe in… ghosts?”

  “You think the girl in the woods was a ghost?”

  “All I do know is the girl in the woods was the same girl in the photograph—which doesn’t make sense. If Morwenna Bloom was alive she would be in her mid-sixties by now.”

  “Maybe it was just a girl who looked a lot like her,” Tanya suggested, not wanting to accept Fabian’s explanation.

  Even though he was clearly worried, Fabian still managed to give Tanya the scornful look that always made her feel about five years old.

  “She would have to be her twin to look that much like her. Which still wouldn’t make sense.” His brow furrowed. “For argument’s sake, let’s say she was a ghost.”

  “All right,” said Tanya reluctantly.

  “She was taking us somewhere. Maybe she was trying to show us something?”

  “She said she was helping us to find Oberon.”

  “She can’t have been,” said Fabian. “He was already with Warwick.”

  “Then it must have been another dog—she was mistaken….”

  Fabian was not listening. “Ghosts linger on earth because they have unfinished business, right? Morwenna Bloom vanished all those years ago, and still, nobody knows what happened to her. What if she did die in those woods? What if the girl we saw was Morwenna’s ghost? Maybe she was trying to tell us what happened to her… or lead us to her… her… remains.”

  “She didn’t look like a ghost,” said Tanya. “She looked as real as you and me. And anyway, why now? Why us?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that too,” said Fabian in a small voice. “And the only reason I can think of why she would show herself to us is because of the family link—I’m Amos’s grandson. Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe she’s trying to tell us that he did kill her all those years ago. Maybe she can’t move on until justice is done.”

  Tanya fell silent. In a horrible way, what Fabian was saying made sense. Plus she could think of nothing else to explain the mysterious girl. A shiver ran down her spine.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Fabian gritted his teeth. “We’ll have to go back into the woods. If she found us once she can find us again.”

  Tanya paled. “We can’t. We’ll get into so much trouble if we get caught—you saw how angry your father was!”

  “We won’t get caught,” said Fabian. “We’ll plan it all first.”

  “I really don’t know about this….”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Tanya shook her head.

  “I’m not going to rest until I find the truth,” said Fabian. “We’re going back into the forest the first chance we get. And this time we’ll find out what really happened to her.”

  11

  Moonlight streamed through the open curtains and spilled into the room, penetrating its darkness and washing it with silver. The night had grown warmer in the past couple of hours, and the window was thrown wide open in an attempt to draw any kind of breeze in, but there was none. The scent of the roses in the courtyard below was heavy and sweet, drifting up from the gardens to sit sluggishly in the room.

  Tanya lay on top of the bedclothes, in thin pajamas that were turned inside out. They were sticking to her uncomfortably. She was wide awake, though this had less to do with the heat and more to do with what Fabian had told her earlier in the evening. In addition, Warwick had fixed the grandfather clock on the landing once more; for all night its mocking chimes had kept her awake while reminding her of how little sleep she was likely to get. The last set of chimes had marked two o’clock in the morning, and she knew that even if she got to sleep now it would only be about four hours before Amos woke her.

  Her skin crawled at the thought of him, shuffling about on the floor above muttering to himself and goodness knew what else. It had been years since he’d had any real contact with the outside world. Horrible thoughts began to crowd her mind.

  What if Amos had been involved in Morwenna Bloom’s disappearance? What if the old man upstairs was a murderer? And then another idea popped into her head. Maybe she and Fabian were not the only ones to have explored the servants’ staircase recently. Maybe Amos had realized Tanya was visiting and had decided to take a little wander…

  All of a sudden the moonlight was not enough. Tanya fought the urge to turn on the bedside lamp, and then did it anyway, berating herself for being so babyish—but the light never came
on. Cursing, and no longer bothered if anyone were to see the light under her door, she got up and crossed the room, snapping the main light switch on. Nothing.

  The realization hit her that this had happened before, more than once. Power outages were all too common at the manor, and she knew from experience that it was usually hours rather than minutes before the electricity was reconnected. Her grandmother was usually well prepared, stashing a generous supply of candles in the rooms most often used, but Tanya already knew with a sinking feeling that in this room there were none. It wasn’t used often enough, and she had not seen any when she had unpacked her things and put them away.

  She clenched her eyes shut and tried to think. There would be candles downstairs in the kitchen. Florence always kept a supply under the sink, along with a few spare boxes of matches. She would go down, grab a few, and then return to her room and read until she was sleepy. And she would remain in bed until she was good and ready to get up, whether her grandmother liked it or not and whether or not Amos shouted the place down. If it came to it she would say she was feeling unwell. That way she could get some rest and avoid them all: her grandmother, Warwick, and Fabian.

  More able to focus now that she had a plan, Tanya located her slippers and crept out of the room. In the silence of the sleeping house every noise she made seemed monumental. Every step, every creak of the floorboards beneath her made her cringe and pause.

  In the kitchen, Oberon thumped his tail in greeting and rose from his blanket by the hearth. Tanya knelt and made a fuss of him, briefly comforted. He smelled of marrow bone, and there were pieces of a chewed-up boot of Warwick’s in his basket.

  She gave him an extra pat while making a mental note to dispose of the evidence, then began to search under the sink for the candles and matches. She gathered several, and after locating a brass candlestick shoved to the back of the cupboard, pushed a candle firmly into it and lit the wick. Instantly, the kitchen was lit with a golden glow. Tanya took a step toward the door, ready to creep back upstairs—but something made her pause. Frowning, she held the candle aloft.

  On the countertop there were four pieces of bread, placed neatly in a square on the chopping board. Three of them had been buttered. Next to them was a tub of spread, with a knife wedged halfway in at an angle. As Tanya took another step she saw a small parcel of tinfoil, partially opened to reveal that it was full of beef left over from dinner. A ripe tomato sat on the chopping board, waiting to be sliced. Tanya placed her hand on the foil containing the meat. It was cold, like it had not been out of the fridge for long.