The Madness (11 page)

Over the last couple of Sundays Noah had taken so well to the sea that he could manage a few strokes in the shallows now. He had got into the habit of bringing a flannel shirt with him, which he would change into behind a rock.
Their
rock; the one he always waited by.

Marnie thought about last Sunday. It had been the best so far. She and Noah had got carried away in the joy of it all and had forgotten to be quiet. They’d made so much noise, whooping and hollering in the waves, that they’d woken one of the workers. He’d come out of his shack, waving a lamp across the beach and shouting, ‘Who’s there?’

Marnie and Noah had ducked down in the water so the waves lapped their chins. The lamplight crossed inches in front of their faces. They gripped each other’s hands under the water and stifled their laughter until eventually they heard the man’s footsteps crunching back up the beach. Then they snorted water from their nostrils and shushed each other as they waded back to shore. They’d dressed quickly, Noah behind one rock and Marnie behind another. They didn’t speak until they were back on the esplanade.

‘That was close,’ Noah had said, his face flushed with excitement. ‘Imagine if he had seen our faces peering at him from between the waves! He would have thought we were a two-headed sea monster, or a couple of lunatics from Bristol Asylum at the very least!’ He giggled like a small child.

The adventure had warmed Marnie through to her bones. She knew Noah felt the same way too. His eyes had sparkled at her. ‘You are so different when you are in the sea, Marnie,’ he said. ‘I have never seen anyone look so alive. It is as though you were born to it.’

Marnie looked at him solemnly. ‘But I was born to it.’

Noah laughed and bowed deeply. ‘Indeed! Now, I must go. And so must you.’

Marnie watched him as he walked away. She rested on her stick, her heart full of something she couldn’t name. Then Noah had suddenly stopped and shouted back at her, ‘Are you sure your father didn’t catch you in one of his nets, little mermaid?’ She heard him laughing to himself as he strode off back to the manor. She stayed, gazing at his figure until it disappeared into the distance.

Marnie turned to face the sea. ‘Is it right what he said, Pa?’ she had whispered, careful not to wake another worker. ‘Did you catch me in one of your nets?’ She liked the thought of that. She liked that Noah talked of Pa too. It made him seem real, and it made Marnie more certain than ever that he would be coming back to her soon. Pa would come home. She just knew it.

The distant toll of the church bells brought Marnie back to the present. She lay still on her mattress, counting the ten strikes. Not long to go now. All was quiet in the cottage and she knew she would have no trouble sneaking out.

It was wild down on the beach. The towering steam-crane creaked as the wind battered its body and the workers’ shacks shivered in protest. As she walked past the half-built pier she spied the dark figure of Noah, his hands buried in the depths of a long overcoat. Her hair lashed across her face as she hurried to meet him.

‘Not a night for swimming, surely?’ he shouted to her above the roar of the wind.

‘Maybe not!’ she agreed. ‘It’s best to leave the sea be when it’s in this mood.’ She turned her face to the sea-wind and the full force of the elements took her breath away. ‘See how magnificent it is!’ she hollered.

Noah came to stand by her side. ‘You are quite mad!’ he said, laughing. He held his arms out and the wind caught under his coat and blew it open. It sailed behind him like a cloak. ‘Whayyy!’ he shouted. ‘I feel I am riding an unbroken stallion!’

They stood in silence for a while, and Marnie marvelled at how much her life had changed. Having a friend like Noah made everything seem so good. He didn’t care about her leg. He seemed to like her for who she was, not what she was, and that meant everything to Marnie.

Noah nudged her. ‘Come back to the manor with me.’

‘What, now?’ said Marnie.

‘Why not?’ said Noah. ‘It is time you saw something of my life.’

It was an effort for Marnie to walk up the old road that led to the manor. It wound uphill, out of the village, and was strewn with small rocks and peppered with potholes. After she’d stumbled a couple of times Noah came to her side, and without saying a word, he offered her his arm. Marnie wasn’t used to being helped and although she was grateful, she couldn’t bring herself to thank him. They walked in silence. An owl hooted in the distance and the wind blew through the trees that lined the road.

‘It is not far now,’ said Noah. ‘Look. Can you see the light burning in the south porch?’

Marnie looked up, and sure enough there was a yellow haze glowing softly through the trees. They walked through an open pair of tall iron gates. Marnie saw the bulk of the manor in front of her, silhouetted against the night sky.

‘We will go around the side. To the servants’ entrance,’ said Noah. ‘The Grand door will be locked by now.’

Marnie saw a couple of lights burning in the upstairs windows. ‘Who’s up at this hour?’ she asked.

‘That will be Mother,’ said Noah. ‘She has trouble sleeping these days. She is most likely reading.’

‘And the other window?’

‘Clarissa. She is Mother’s lady’s maid. She won’t be sleeping if Mother is not.’ Noah pointed to a bigger window in the centre of the upper floor. ‘And that is my bedchamber,’ he said. ‘I have the best view of any room. I can see over the village and right out to sea. If I had a spyglass, I imagine I could even see you on the beach.’

It was a strange notion and Marnie fell silent again. She could scarcely believe she was about to enter the mysterious Clevedon Manor. The de Clevedons had lived at the manor for hundreds of years, although it had lain empty for as long as Marnie could remember. Until Noah and his mother had come back, it had been many years since any of the family had paid a visit. Marnie knew of no one who had ever been inside. The manor’s servants were sent to the village for goods, but kept themselves to themselves and never gossiped with the locals. The villagers talked of the de Clevedons in hushed tones, as if they were royalty or something. Marnie was awestruck. She felt as though she was about to enter the palace of Queen Victoria herself.

Marnie followed Noah to a small wooden door, set deep in the old stone walls. He opened it and motioned for her to follow him. Marnie held her breath. She pictured velvet curtains, carved oak furniture, huge fires and jewelled treasures; riches beyond her wildest dreams. It was pitch black inside. The air was musty and cold and Marnie’s stick clicked on the stone floors. She shivered. It wasn’t how she imagined it at all and disappointment flooded through her. Then, as if he’d read her thoughts, Noah whispered to her, ‘This is only the screens passage. The oldest part of the manor. It leads to the kitchens and the buttery and the larder. But I will take you through to the Great Hall first.’ He pushed open a door to his side and Marnie immediately smelled a change in the air; a smoky warmth of candle wax and burnt logs.

‘Wait here and I will see if there are enough embers in the fire to light a spill,’ said Noah. She heard his footsteps cross the hall and as she peered into the shadows she saw a flickering light growing bigger and bigger. Noah’s face, lit up by the flame of a thick creamy candle, came towards her. ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘Come and see the Great Hall!’

Marnie saw nothing at first but shadows and shapes. Then, as Noah busied himself lighting more candles, the Great Hall gradually revealed itself to her. It was vast; the vaulted ceiling so high, the top of it disappeared from view. There were beautiful tapestries hanging down the walls and a whole gallery of portraits. The stern faces of dozens of men and women stared down at Marnie from within their gilt frames.

‘Who are all these people?’ she asked in a whisper.

‘Mostly my family,’ said Noah. ‘My grandfather, great-grandfather, even my great-great-grandfather! Some of their wives too, and cousins, of course. There are some friends here too. Have you heard of Tennyson, the poet, and William Thackeray, the celebrated writer?’

Marnie shook her head.

‘You have not heard of
Vanity Fair
?’

Again, Marnie shook her head. ‘What’s a Vanity Fair?’ she asked. ‘Is it like a May Fair?’

Noah laughed. ‘No, you silly thing!
Vanity Fair
is the title of Thackeray’s great novel. He is famous throughout the whole of England for it.’

Marnie flushed furiously. ‘Well, he’s not famous here, is he? And why should I care about such things as that, anyway?’

Noah’s eyes danced with amusement. ‘Calm yourself,’ he said. ‘I only answered your question as to who is in these portraits.’

Marnie turned away from him and walked towards the fireplace. She hadn’t meant to be sharp with Noah, and it wasn’t his fault she’d been made to feel stupid. She wasn’t sure what to feel at the moment, or how to act. All of this had stunned her and knocked the wind from her sails. Being inside the manor was astonishing enough, but seeing all those faces looking down at her, and knowing that Noah had such a family, filled Marnie with envy. What must it be like to go all the way back in time and know exactly where you came from and who you belonged to? Marnie wished she had a picture of her pa. The tiniest miniature would do. Just so she could look into his face.

Marnie stood in front of the fireplace. It was so huge that the remaining embers in the fire basket looked lost. She swore the fireplace was bigger by far than the whole of a bathing machine. She could walk into it and live inside quite comfortably.

‘Shall we go to the kitchens?’ Noah’s voice beside her made her jump.

‘The kitchens?’ said Marnie.

‘Yes. I need to check on Prince and I think we could both do with a hot drink, don’t you?’

Marnie followed the light of Noah’s candle back into the screens passage. As they walked along, Marnie smelled the history seeping from the stone walls. She held out her hand and touched the cold stone and imagined how many others had laid a hand on the same spot. Was she the very first?

‘Here we are,’ said Noah. He swung open a heavy wooden door and light flooded out into the passage. ‘Hetty. You may go to bed now,’ Noah called out.

‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’ Marnie heard a girl’s voice and the scraping of a chair.

After a moment Noah turned to her. ‘Come. We have the kitchens to ourselves now.’

‘Who was that?’ asked Marnie as she followed Noah into the kitchen.

‘Hetty,’ said Noah. ‘Remember I told you about her? She is the parlour maid. Although she has had to take on more duties since we have come here. We do not need a full staff with only Mother and me, and no guests to entertain. Hetty is more of a maid-of-all-works at the moment.’

‘But you have plenty of other servants too,’ said Marnie, remembering the gaggle of maids and footmen on the beach when Lady de Clevedon had first come to bathe.

‘Yes, I suppose we do,’ said Noah. ‘We have Clarissa, of course, Mother’s lady’s maid, and Sally the cook, and Mr Todd, or the Toad as I call him. He is Father’s old butler. He oversees the servants here. It keeps him occupied in his old age. There are a couple of footmen too, and a stable boy. There may be one or two other maids, I do not know! I confess I rarely see them. They are like invisible mice that run around keeping everything in order.’

As they walked through into the heart of the kitchen, Marnie saw the wolfhound lying in front of the fire. He whined and came bounding over at the sound of Noah’s voice. ‘Sshush,’ said Noah, stroking him under his muzzle. The hound growled low in his throat and edged towards Marnie. ‘Stop that!’ Noah ordered. ‘Come, Prince. Come,’ he said. He took Marnie’s hand and held it under the hound’s nose. ‘See? It is only Marnie. You remember her from the beach, don’t you? She is our friend.’

The hound’s growl turned to a whine of pleasure as Marnie rubbed behind his ears.

‘He is a wise dog,’ said Noah. ‘He remembers you well. Now  …  the kettle is still hot. Would you care for some tea? And a slice of Sally’s seed cake?’

They sat together at the end of an enormous wooden table. Marnie sat stiffly, listening for the sound of footsteps or the groan of a door. She knew she shouldn’t be there, a girl like her supping with a proper young gentleman! But somehow it felt right; like part of her had always belonged.

Noah poured her tea from a white china pot and served her a slice of the softest, sweetest cake she had ever eaten. They sat until the teapot was empty and Noah told her of his life in London. How his days were filled with visitors and outings to the theatre. How he studied under a private tutor, and of the dances that were held almost every week in the houses of his father’s wealthy friends.

‘You can’t imagine how tedious it has been coming here,’ Noah said. ‘No friends, no amusements. Until I met you, of course. You have made my stay here so much more bearable.’

Marnie swallowed down a smile. She didn’t want Noah to see how much his words pleased her. ‘Will you have to go back to London, then?’ She caught her breath as she waited for his answer.

‘I will have to go back some time,’ said Noah. ‘I
want
to go back. But only when Mother is well again. And I cannot tell you when that will be.’

‘I didn’t know she was still sick,’ said Marnie. ‘It’s a shame Ma can’t give her another dipping. That would sort her out.’