Immortal (12 page)

But I didn’t know whether he would want that.
Dearest Evie, sweet Evie, wonderful Evie…
Since our ride out to the old fort, Sebastian had been kind and attentive and affectionate, but he hadn’t touched me again or put his arms around me. And he had never kissed me, not even a peck on the cheek.

Why not? I kept asking myself. Was I unattractive to him? And what had really happened with that other girl? As we glided farther out onto the deep lake, a horrible thought flashed across my mind.

The girl Sebastian had once known might have been poor dead Laura.

Laura. Of course. That would explain why he had been hanging around on the night I had first come down to the lake. He must have been keeping vigil over the spot where Laura had died. It was Laura who had drawn Sebastian to the lake, not me. It all made sense now. I had been sleeping in Laura’s bed, taking her place at the school, and now I was with the boy she had left behind.
I hope she haunts your every step.

So that was why he was determined to view me only as a friend. After all, how could I compete with the idealized memory of a tragic victim? But what had he meant about hurting the girl he had known? How would that fit in with Laura? Maybe they had quarreled before she died; maybe he blamed himself somehow.

“You’re very quiet,” said Sebastian, letting the oars hang motionless over the edge of the boat. “Do you want to go back?”

“No, I’m fine,” I lied. “I was just thinking.”

“What? Tell me.”

I struck out randomly at the first thing that came into my head.

“I miss my home. This lake and the gardens and the hills, they all seem—I don’t know—too still. Stifling, somehow. I wish we could walk by the sea when the waves are angry and the wind is racing. I can’t really explain, but I feel different there…free.”

“I’d like that.” He smiled. “I’d love to walk on the beach with you.”

“We could walk and sail and swim.” My voice cracked with longing. My mind was on fire, and my body ached with restless, unnamed desires. I tried to pull myself together, to be sensible Evie again. “At least I have one day of freedom tomorrow,” I said. “My class is going for a walk over the moors.”

“So Mrs. Hartle’s prisoners are going to be let out, are they? And where is she letting her poor captives wander?”

“We’re going to visit an old house—Fairfax Hall. Do you know it?”

Sebastian began to row back to the overhanging laurels at the side of the lake.

“Sure,” he said, almost too carelessly. “Everyone around here knows the place. Poor Evie, if that’s tomorrow’s big excitement you’ll be disappointed. It’s a dull old house full of other people’s memories, that’s all.”

He tied the rope around a thick branch and jumped out of the boat, splashing his boots in the mud at the edge of the lake. Then he turned and lifted me onto the grass. For one moment we clung to each other like lovers.

“Evie,” he said urgently. “Promise me something.”

“Of course, what is it?”

“If you hear anything…in the village…anything bad about me, you’d still trust me, wouldn’t you? You’d still come to see me like this? Promise?” He held me even tighter. My heart thudded against his.

“I promise,” I said. “I promise.”

Sebastian stepped back, pale and tense. “I have to go now.”

“Why?” I asked. “Don’t go yet.”

“I must,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, Evie.” He began to stride away over the dark lawns.

“Sebastian, wait! When will I see you?”

“Tomorrow night,” he called back. “And remember—you gave me your promise!”

I felt chilled right through to the bone. Why would anyone try to turn me against Sebastian? Perhaps he really had done something to hurt Laura. Perhaps it was common knowledge among his friends in the village, and he was worried that I would find out. Perhaps I was an absolute idiot to have anything to do with him at all. I set off wearily, anxious to get back to the dorm.

When I reached the stable yard, something looked different. I paused. The green door that led into the servants’ quarters had swung open. Strange, I thought. I was sure I had closed it carefully.

Everything in the yard was quiet, apart from the occasional swish of a horse’s tail. I crept across the cobblestones and slipped though the door. Then it banged shut behind me, and I heard a key grate in the lock. I whipped around and tugged at the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. Someone had locked me in.

Panic leaped up in me like a sheet of fire.

“Who’s there?” I called. “Open the door!” But there was no answer, only the soft sound of footsteps outside. Fumbling wildly on the floor, I felt for Helen’s flashlight. It was gone. Of course it was gone, and I knew who had taken it—Celeste. She must have set up this stunt; it would be so like her….

Think, Evie, think.

I had to get back to the dorm before Celeste got hold of one of the mistresses. The faintest gleam of light spilled through a skylight above the door into the old passageway. It would have to be enough.

It was easy to tell myself to keep calm, but the farther I went, the darker it got. Soon I was groping along in dense blackness, feeling the wall as my only guide. I could hear rustling noises, scampering and whispering in the dark. There was the faint swish of a skirt and the clatter of boots as I passed the old kitchens.
Can’t you hear their voices
? I dreaded to feel the touch of a long-dead hand on my arm.
Don’t be stupid,
I kept saying to myself.
It’s only your
imagination; the dark can’t hurt you…it can’t.

I found the narrow entrance to the servants’ stairs and climbed them in total blindness. As I counted the steps with sobbing breaths, I was convinced that another girl’s light footsteps were following me.
Swish-swish-swish:
The sound of her skirt was getting nearer.

At last I could see a crack of light ahead, the outline of the door to the dormitory corridor. I fell upon the handle just in time to hear the bolt being pushed home on the other side. Celeste must have run unseen up the main stairs and cut me off.

My efforts had been for nothing. I was locked inside the old servants’ wing, trapped, just as she had intended. I sank to the floor, my back against the door, trying to breathe. There was no one following me, I told myself frantically. I was alone. All I had to do was wait until morning, when Helen would surely unbolt the door and find me here.

Breathe…just breathe.

I remembered the words of an old song that Frankie had sung when I was a little girl.

The night is dark, but day is near,

Hush, little baby, do not fear….

The night is dark,
I repeated over and over again,
the night is dark
, until I thought I would scream. Then the door behind me rattled, and someone opened it. I fell into the corridor, expecting to see Celeste. But it wasn’t Celeste who had opened the door.

It was Miss Scratton. And standing next to her was Helen.

Twenty-one

I

had been totally wrong about Celeste. She’d had nothing to do with what had happened on the stairs. It was Helen who had betrayed me to Miss Scratton.

After we had finally gotten to bed, I had whispered to her angrily, “Why did you do that?” She had mumbled that I would understand one day. I was furious, but for once I agreed with Celeste: Helen Black was completely nuts. And now, thanks to her, I was in disgrace.

“I cannot express how disappointed I am in you, Evie,” Miss Scratton declared the next day. The whole class was waiting by the Abbey’s imposing front door, coats and hats tugged by the November wind. Miss Dalrymple was there too, decked out in walking boots and holding a map. “It was very silly of you to go wandering down those old stairs in the middle of the night. You could easily have fallen and broken an ankle. The High Mistress will not be pleased when she hears about this.”

Celeste shot a look of triumph at India and Sophie.

“This is the second demerit you have acquired in your short time at Wyldcliffe. Let it be the last!” I took the crimson card that Miss Scratton gave me and stuffed it in my pocket. “The other girls will not speak to you today, and you will walk to Fairfax Hall at my side. Think yourself lucky that you are allowed to come on the outing at all.”

I hung back from the others. Sarah shrugged sympathetically but didn’t dare speak to me.

“Now, girls,” said Miss Scratton, “it’s a long walk, and we don’t want to be late. Miss Dalrymple, if you would kindly lead the way.” The class began to head down the drive.

“Oh, wait!” Sarah exclaimed. “Where’s Helen?”

“Helen is not well. She will not be joining us.”

I glanced up. The infirmary was on the second floor, overlooking the drive.

I thought I caught a glimpse of Helen’s fragile features at the window. But I was distracted by Miss Scratton hovering at my side, looking sterner than ever.

“Listen, Evie,” she said. “This is really important. You can’t get another demerit. Is that clear?” Then she stiffened and looked over her shoulder. The High Mistress, Mrs. Hartle, was standing on the top step by the front door, watching us silently. I felt as though someone had poured ice water down my neck.

“Your behavior has been quite disgraceful, Evie Johnson,” Miss Scratton announced in a loud voice. “Now keep up with me.”

We followed the others to the school gates. Instead of turning down to the village and the gloomy church, as we did on Sundays, we took the path that led up to the moors. Miss Dalrymple went on ahead, pointing out the site of the old fort where I had ridden with Sebastian. I didn’t listen. I was puzzling over what Miss Scratton had just said. Had she simply been telling me off—or was there some other warning behind her words?

I looked up at her fiercely plain face, and it struck me that there was some kind of tension between her and Mrs. Hartle. Perhaps Miss Scratton had wanted the job of High Mistress herself? That wasn’t any of my concern, though. All I cared about was that Miss Scratton had accepted my garbled explanation the night before about feeling faint and wanting to get some fresh air in the yard. I’d pretended that I’d used the back stairs so I wouldn’t disturb anybody, then got shut in by accident.

As we started to climb higher over rough ground, I wondered if Helen knew why I had been out on the grounds at night. And if she did know about Sebastian, would she tell Mrs. Hartle? Then I would be in real trouble. I could imagine the frost in Mrs. Hartle’s voice, the quiet triumph.
I never wanted to accept you into the school.

Dad would be so upset if they kicked me out. I couldn’t let him down like that. Secretly, I felt slightly ashamed. After all, I had come to Wyldcliffe to help Dad, not add to his troubles. I was in school to learn, not to chase after a boy with blue eyes. Something would have to change. I couldn’t bear to stop seeing Sebastian, but there had to be some other way of meeting that wouldn’t break any more rules.

The path began to snake down the other side of the ridge to a wooded hollow below. Miss Dalrymple trotted out facts about limestone outcrops and the ancient mines that had left a honeycomb of tunnels and shafts under the hills. The girls crowded around her, asking questions and admiring the view. Miss Dalrymple turned and smiled rather unpleasantly, her cheeks pink and plump in the wind.

“Miss Scratton, don’t you think dear Evie could join the rest of us? It would be a pity for her not to enjoy the day’s adventure.”

“Evie had enough adventures last night,” said Miss Scratton icily. “She will stay under my supervision.”

Strangely enough, I was glad of her reply. Miss Dalrymple looked annoyed for a fraction of a second, then shooed the class along, lecturing them enthusiastically about our surroundings. But Miss Scratton and I walked behind them in silence.

Twenty-two

F

airfax Hall was not what I had expected. I had grown used to the somber gray buildings of the Abbey, but the Hall, behind its thick screen of laurels, was a gracious house made of light stone, with an elegant pillared facade. It looked out of place on the side of the rugged moors. But that wasn’t the main surprise. As we trooped down the driveway, we saw two police cars parked outside the door. The museum director came rushing out to meet us.

“Oh, it’s such a shame,” she began hurriedly. “I tried to call you, Miss Scratton, but the school said you had already set off, so it was too late to let you know.”

“Let us know what?” replied Miss Scratton.

“About this terrible break-in. I can’t quite believe it yet. The whole place has been ransacked.” The poor woman looked on the verge of tears, and kept pushing her glasses nervously into place.

“Oh, dear, has anything been stolen?” asked Miss Dalrymple.

“That’s the strange thing,” said the museum lady. “Everything has been turned upside down, but we think that only one item has actually been stolen.”

“And what was that?” asked Miss Scratton sharply. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Not at all. I suppose it will all be in the local paper anyway. It was a portrait, not terribly valuable, but of great interest: a member of the Fairfax family, a fascinating character. Oh, dear…I’d better get back to the police—and you’ve walked all this way for nothing. I’m afraid no one is allowed to come in while the police are examining everything.”

A few of the girls let out groans at the news.

“But we can’t go back to school right away, can we, Miss Scratton?” asked Sophie.

“No,” agreed Miss Scratton. “It’s too far to walk back without a rest, and the bus I have arranged for us won’t arrive for a couple of hours. We’ll just have to wait here until it comes.”

The woman from the Hall looked heartbroken at the idea that we were being deprived of the chance to see her beloved museum.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear,” she said. “Of course, I’ll have to check with the police, but perhaps you could at least walk around the gardens. Even at this time of the year they are full of interesting specimens. They were laid out in the nineteenth century by Sir Edward Fairfax and are considered a very fine example…Oh, dear, please excuse me.”