Frost Hollow Hall (9 page)

‘I just hope they’ll have me,’ I said.

‘You’ve swept a floor before, haven’t you?’

‘’Course!’

‘Well then.’

‘Trouble is, things is changed.’

‘So I heard,’ said Will.

My heart sank. ‘What’ve you heard?’

‘That your pa and sister are gone away, and times is hard.’

News travelled fast in Frostcombe. But at least he’d spared me the gory details. It hurt enough already; I couldn’t bear for someone as smug as Will Potter to point out all that was wrong with my family.

‘If I mess it up, we’ll be in the workhouse,’ I said. ‘Ma’s counting on me.’

‘So’s Kit Barrington,’ he said, sharp as you like. ‘Or so you say.’

‘I don’t need
you
telling
me
, ta very much!’

‘Get amongst them Barringtons, then,’ said Will. ‘Find out what makes them tick.’

‘It in’t that easy. If they catch me snooping, I’ll be done for!’

‘Then make sure they don’t. Keep your gob shut and your eyes open.’

It was all very well for Will to dish out advice, when he didn’t have to lift a finger himself.

‘Just be careful, that’s all,’ he said, suddenly serious.

‘Since when did you care?’

We fell silent for a moment, then his face lit up with a grin.

‘You’ve changed your hair, haven’t you?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ I said, patting it gently. ‘Is it all right still?’

‘It looked better before, if you ask me.’

Oaf.

I thumped him.

*

The gates to the Hall were actually open for once. A man in a greatcoat was in the process of leading his pony and trap through them. He stopped to peer at us as we approached.

‘You bound for the Hall, too?’ he said.

‘Ta, but we’ll walk,’ said Will.

I stopped dead in my tracks. ‘You in’t coming with me!’

‘Oh yes I am,’ Will said, tucking his arm through mine. ‘I know them down there, remember?’

I yanked my arm free. ‘And a fat lot of help it was last time.’ I turned to the driver. ‘Thank you. A ride would be grand.’

Will frowned. ‘Now just a . . .’

‘I’m going by myself,’ I said, firmly.

Will gave me a long look. Then, without so much as a goodbye, he turned smartly on his heel. I felt a strange pang as I watched him go, like he was my last link with home and I’d not been quite fair with him. Moments later he was out of sight completely.

There wasn’t time to fret. The driver had already pulled the gates almost shut and was waiting for me to join him. I grabbed my skirts and squeezed through the gap. He heaved the gates shut behind us. My heart began to thud.

‘All aboard then,’ said the driver.

I climbed into the trap and had barely sat down when the cart shot forward, flinging me backwards. We set off at a right pace. The cart spun over the packed snow, hurling me one way, then the other. I gripped the seat hard; it was all I could do to stay on board. Icy air stung my eyes, hair whipped my face. On and on we raced through a blur of trees. I gritted my teeth and hung on tight as I could.

And then the driver heaved on his reins. The cart slowed to walking pace and stopped. Before us the road went downhill sharply and the woods gave way to grand lines of trees on either side of the drive.

‘There ’tis,’ said the driver, nodding into the valley. ‘The grandest house in the county.’

I followed his gaze and gasped out loud.
What an eyeful it was!

On a day like today, the frost hollow business was as clear as anything. Already at the top of the valley the snow had started to thaw, and yet deep at the bottom everything was still thick white. Sat right in the coldest frostiest spot of all was the house itself. For the first time I got a real sense of its vastness.

Frost Hollow Hall? Frost Hollow
palace
more like!

It was shaped like a capital E with the middle bit missing. The house was made of grey stone, and was finer than any I’d ever clapped eyes on. The roof was a jumble of chimney pots and little slanty windows, all white with snow like a fairytale castle. I bet the place was full of narrow stairways and secret passages, waiting to be explored.

Off beyond the gardens was a familiar-looking path, leading through yew trees to what had to be the family graveyard. There was no sign of Kit’s stone angel from up here, though. Everything was hidden by the dark trees.

And where was the lake?

I leaned forward on my seat, shivering with cold and excitement.

There it was, set back beyond the graveyard, half screened by those great trees. It still had that dull grey look to it, like something solid and steady. Only I knew now not to be fooled.

‘That’s the lake, in’t it?’ I said, trying to sound casual.

‘Aye.’ The driver flicked the reins. We started moving again.

‘It won’t thaw out ’til spring,’ he said. ‘’Specially not this winter.’

‘And the family? What do they use it for?’

‘You’ll know the story. You’re a Frostcombe girl. Now leave it be.’

I felt him staring at me. I kept my eyes on the road.

Soon we arrived at the side of the Hall. Up close it was just as handsome. The drive had been cleared at the front of the house, so that snow was heaped up either side. There were three floors to the house, four if you counted the attics, which meant a heck of a lot of windows. Each was made of old, watery glass, split into little panes. On the ground floor the shutters were already open, though the rooms were in shadow so I couldn’t quite see inside.

A lump formed in my throat. One day this would’ve all been Kit’s.
Should’ve
been.

‘I’m headed for the stable block,’ said the driver, cutting through my sad thoughts. ‘You want the servants’ entrance.’ He pointed over his shoulder at the cobbled yard I recognised from yesterday. ‘Grey door. By the railings. Can’t miss it.’

‘Ta very much,’ I said, and jumped down.

The cart pulled away, leaving me alone in the driveway. I glanced up at the house again and began to feel uneasy. This whole place felt sad.
Bleak
. I scanned the windows. Each one stared back at me, blank and cold.

Then I saw a movement. The drapes twitched at a large window on the first floor. A dark shape stepped back from the glass, disappearing from sight. The shivers ran through me.

Someone had been up there, watching.

14

Interview with the Housekeeper

I made my way to the servants’ entrance. By now I felt sicker than ever. Five icy steps down and the door was in front of me. I did a quick tidy of my hair and knocked on the door. Breathed deep. And waited.

No one came.

I tried again, louder this time, and stepped back, smoothing my skirts.

Where were they all? A big house like this and no one to answer a blasted door?

I stamped my feet and blew on my hands. Maybe they’d just not heard me.

Either way, it was too cold to stand there dithering. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The flagstone passageway and high windows were just as I remembered. Though it was daylight now, gas jets still burned on the walls. My nerve wavered, but I made myself keep going, past the laundry room and the butler’s pantry. This time the glass door was shut and the lamps turned down low.

Where
was
everyone?

I kept going, heart thudding. I turned the corner.

‘Oh!’ I stopped dead.

Up ahead was Mrs Jessop. Her tall, dark shape filled the passageway. She saw me and froze.

‘Do my eyes deceive me, or is this Tilly Higgins again?’

‘Please ma’am, I’ve come about the job.’

She came towards me like a vapour. My knees shook hard.

‘The housemaid’s job?
You
?’ She laughed in disbelief. ‘You’re persistent, I’ll grant you that.’

She peered at me closely and seemed to mull something over. I waited, head bowed, praying Cook had been right, that they
were
short-staffed and needed extra hands. I didn’t fancy my chances otherwise.

Mrs Jessop sighed deeply. ‘Come with me.’

I followed her down another corridor, so narrow that her skirts brushed against the walls as she walked. The keys at her hip caught my eye. There had to be twenty there at least, all shapes and sizes, some tarnished, some gleaming. One for every room in the house, I reckoned.

We went up some stone steps, then she reached for her keys and unlocked the door in front of us. We entered a smallish room with painted walls and a patterned carpet on the floor. An oil lamp hung from the ceiling, which made the air smell thick and close and filled the room with yellow light. As Mrs Jessop turned to stoke the fire, a set of shelves on the wall caught my eye. They were stacked high with notebooks. Each had a date on its spine, like ‘October ’78’ or ‘June ’79’, and seemed to be arranged in date order. And beneath the shelves was a wide, uncluttered desk, where more notebooks sat in tidy piles.

Mrs Jessop then selected one – a small, brown cardboard-covered thing – and took a seat in the corner near the fire. She told me to stand by the desk where she could see me properly. I folded my hands and bowed my head again. I hoped she wouldn’t notice how I trembled.

Mrs Jessop opened her notebook. ‘So, tell me. Why should I hire you as my new housemaid?’

I looked up. She stared at me, unblinking. Her eyes were black.

‘Um, well,’ I swallowed. ‘I am a good worker.’

‘And where do you work currently?’

‘Um . . . with Miss Fletcher at the school.’

Though I hoped she wouldn’t bother checking this fact. Miss Fletcher had wanted me in bright and early today. Instead, I’d gone after another job. It didn’t exactly look good.

‘That may be so,’ said Mrs Jessop. ‘I shall be contacting her for your character.’

Drat
, I thought, as she scribbled something down.

‘There are other matters to be considered, Tilly.’

I lowered my gaze.

‘Twice you’ve been caught trespassing in the last week alone. And now you’re asking for a job?’

I felt myself go red. I didn’t have a cat in hell’s chance, did I? I was stupid to even be here.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve wasted your time.’

I went to go. Thoughts of Ma, the landlord and Kit all rushed into my head at once, and I felt so ill and low I hardly knew what I’d do next.

‘Stop right there, young lady,’ said Mrs Jessop. ‘I haven’t dismissed you yet.’

I groaned silently and turned to face her again.
Go on then, put me out of my misery, once and for all.

‘I want a sensible girl who pulls her weight, not some troublemaker. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Mrs Jessop.’

A rustling of skirts and she was stood beside me. She smelled clean and sharp like beeswax.

‘Now,’ she said, stepping even closer. ‘Open wide.’

‘Sorry?’

Her hand shot out and gripped my jaw. I pulled back but her fingers dug harder into my flesh so I couldn’t move an inch.

‘Your teeth,’ she said. ‘I need to see them.’

It hurt to struggle, and I couldn’t breathe right with her hand clamped tight round my face. I stood still. She loomed over me, all bony and pale, just like before. Only this time, I kept my eyes wide open and saw how she looked at me, tipping her head this way and that, like I was an insect trapped in a jar.

Finally, she let go. ‘Good. Now hold your hands out.’

She peered at my nails and fingers, then turned my hands over to examine the palms.

‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Nothing a good scrub won’t put right.’

‘But I had a wash this morning!’

She tutted, which made me go red again. Then she returned to her seat and wrote something down in her book.

‘You don’t have any followers?’ she said, peering at me under her brows.

‘Followers?’

‘Young men of your acquaintance, village boys who’ll come calling for you and making a nuisance of themselves. Only we don’t allow that sort of thing.’

‘No, Mrs Jessop.’

‘Not even that butcher’s boy?’

‘Most definitely not!’ I said, a little too hotly.

She pulled a face like she didn’t quite believe me, then pressed her fingers to her lips and frowned.

‘Very well, it’s a week’s trial. You’ll be paid five shillings next Wednesday. Any nonsense and you’re out.’

I could hardly believe my own ears.

‘Oh thank you, thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise!’

I rushed forwards her like a daft thing, catching my foot on the corner of the carpet so I stumbled against her desk. Notebooks, pens, cards all slid to the floor.

‘Heck, I’m sorry!’

I fell to my knees to gather up the mess. In a flash, Mrs Jessop was beside me, her skirt hem inches from my face.
Spotless black merino. Not a speck, not a hair upon it.
As I glanced up, she looked at me almost kindly. Then her face darkened.

‘Give me that notebook.’

I looked down at the book in my hand. It didn’t seem much, just an old tatty thing. Its pages were open and covered in tiny handwriting. I passed it to her without a second glance.

‘Now get up, for goodness’ sake!’

Tutting loudly, she turned to tidy the desk. My heart was in my mouth. She was bound to change her mind now and send me packing. But instead she said, ‘Did you bring any things with you?’

I shook my head.

‘Does your mother know you’re here?’

‘Yes. But she don’t know I’m staying,’ I said.

That soft look crossed her face again. Then she squared her shoulders and headed for the door

‘We’ll get a message to your mother,’ Mrs Jessop said, briskly. ‘And now you can join the others. They’re having their break in the servants’ hall.’

15

Below Stairs

I followed Mrs Jessop down yet another passageway. We went through a door into a well-lit room, where eight, maybe ten people were gathered round one end of a long table. Tea was being poured, plates of buttered bread passed round. At first glance, it looked proper cosy, and my poor stomach rumbled at the sight of such a lovely meal. Yet despite a good fire, the room was chill. It felt big and bare, and not altogether welcoming. The people sat with their backs to us, speaking in low voices.