The Midnight Peacock. Katherine Woodfine

Чтение книги онлайн.

      ‘Millicent Pennyfeather – but who’s that?’ asked Lil, looking up from the letter, her eyes bright with interest.

      ‘My old governess,’ explained Sophie. ‘I wrote to her a few months ago, before we got mixed up in the theft of the dragon painting, but the letter must have taken a long time to reach her out in India. I really wanted to know whether she knew anything about Papa spending time in Egypt: remember that photograph of him in Cairo? It doesn’t sound like she knows anything about that – but she has remembered something else that could be important.’

      ‘This Colonel Fairley?’ asked Lil.

      ‘Yes – and look where he lives.’

      ‘Alwick House near Norchester – but that’s –’ began Billy.

      ‘Exactly,’ said Sophie. ‘Alwick is the name of the village close to Winter Hall. If we go there for Christmas, then I could pay him a visit!’

      ‘And he might know something – perhaps about your father’s time in Egypt, or even how the Baron knew your parents!’ finished Lil, her voice ringing with excitement.

      Sophie nodded vigorously. What she did not say was that even if Colonel Fairley proved to know nothing at all about her father’s time in Egypt, and had never even heard of the Baron, it would be enough just to speak to someone who had been Papa’s friend. It was a long time since she had been able to talk to anyone who had known him. As Miss Pennyfeather reminded her in her letter, she had no relations at all that she knew of, and sometimes she felt very alone. Looking at the others, sitting across from her in the cosy office – Lil, bursting with excitement at this new discovery, Billy carefully examining the letter, Joe sitting quietly, scratching Daisy’s ears, and thinking it all through – she felt very grateful indeed for her friends.

      At that moment, Lil glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece and gave a little squeak of alarm. ‘Golly, Sophie – just look at the time! We ought to go, or we’ll be dreadfully late.’

      ‘Late? Where are you off to in such a rush?’ said Joe, as the two girls hustled into their coats and hats.

      ‘Oh – only our Sewing Society.’

      Billy dropped the letter. ‘Sewing Society!’ he exclaimed in a disgusted tone. He had made it quite clear that he couldn’t imagine why Sophie and Lil would waste their evenings, sitting around with a lot of girls, fussing over silly bits of stitching, when they could be doing something really interesting – like working on new cases, or at the least reading an exciting detective story, like one of his favourite Montgomery Baxter tales.

      ‘Whatever you may think, it’s jolly important,’ said Lil primly. ‘We’re helping Connie and the suffragettes. And as a matter of fact, you might find it more interesting than you’d think.’ She smirked slightly at Sophie as she said this, then, in a different tone of voice, she went on: ‘You two wouldn’t mind just quickly tidying away these tea things before you go, would you? We have to dash, and I know it’s important to keep the office tidy and smart and all that sort of thing. Oh, I say, thanks awfully.’

      With that, she sailed out of the door. Sophie grinned at the two boys, and then followed behind her.

      Billy and Joe exchanged glances over the mess of tea things they had left behind them.

      ‘Typical,’ muttered Billy, shaking his head. ‘That’s just absolutely typical.’

      Far from London, the snow was also falling on Winter Hall. When Tilly peeped out into the dark, she could see that the flakes were coming down thick and fast. She let the curtain fall back across her bedroom window, and scrambled gladly into bed under the weight of the heavy blankets.

      Her room was at the top of the house and was almost always cold, especially at this time of year. It was a very plain room, like all the maids’ bedrooms: simply furnished with two little beds, a chest of drawers, and a washstand. She shared with Sarah; under-housemaids and scullery maids were not considered important enough to have rooms to themselves. Now, she could hear the heavy sound of Sarah’s breathing in the next bed: she was already fast asleep after a long day of scrubbing and washing in the scullery. Tilly didn’t mind that; some nights she felt like talking, but tonight she wanted to think. She snuggled down under the covers, tucking her cold feet up underneath her, and thought back to that moment in the East Wing when her candle had snuffed out, and she’d been plunged into darkness.

      She admitted it to herself now: she had been frightened out of her life when that awful shadow had reached out towards her. She had even screamed – thank goodness no one had been around to hear her! But she’d managed to get up and scramble away, back down the passage. She hadn’t dared stop to catch her breath until she was back in the dazzling light of the hallway, with the door to the East Wing closed firmly behind her. She hadn’t even had the nerve to take a peep and see if that dark shape – whatever it was – had tried to follow her. Instead, she’d walked back as swiftly as she could to the servants’ quarters, trying to look cool and calm when a footman came by with the coffee tray for the Drawing Room.

      Of course, she hadn’t breathed so much as a word about what had happened to the others. She knew that Lizzie would crow over her about it for weeks if she did. Besides, she felt quite sure now that whatever it was she had seen, it must have a rational explanation. She knew there were no such things as ghosts – and that meant she had seen a person, someone СКАЧАТЬ