Walking Into Murder (16 page)

“Can I go first?” Angelina asked in a loud whisper. Catherine nodded and pushed the child in front of her as they walked cautiously through trees. Absorbed in the game, Angelina was mercifully quiet, as was the train.

Laura listened for the sound of a car returning. After what seemed like a long time, it came. She veered closer to the track and peered through the bushes. It was the same car that had brought them here, and she thought Roger was driving, with Stewart beside him, but the windows were fogged up and she couldn’t see clearly.

She hurried back to Catherine and Angelina. They were sitting side by side on a log, and they looked up at her trustingly, waiting for her to tell them what to do next.

Laura felt a surge of panic. She was responsible for their safety, only there wasn’t any safety. Someone – perhaps that unseen guiding hand she had sensed – wanted them out of commission and wouldn’t give up until they were. At the same time, she had to get Angelina back to her family, and she had to find out what had happened to Thomas, for Catherine’s sake even more than her own. That meant she had to go back to the manor – the most dangerous place they could be. On the other hand, she mused, it was probably also the last place anyone would think to look for them.

An idea began to form in Laura’s mind, an idea that grew until it actually began to seem possible. True, it involved some risk, but mostly to her, and with some help she was sure it could be managed. Surely, someone would be willing to help them. But who?

The familiar faces of everyone she had met since she had come paraded through Laura’s mind. One at a time, she dismissed them for the possibility of collaboration, as in Dr. Banbury, or a tendency to talk too much, like Maude. Secrecy and the ability to act decisively were crucial to their success.

When she had finished her assessment, only two names were left: Nigel and the Baroness. Both were too intelligent not to be aware of any underhanded activities going on at Torrington Manor, but she didn’t think either of them would be an active participant in anything illegal. Nigel would help them to the best of his ability, but he was also very young, too young to be saddled with so much responsibility. She needed someone older, someone with authority. The grande dame was the only logical choice. Surely, a woman of that caliber wouldn’t condone the virtual kidnapping of her own granddaughter. The grande dame had too much integrity.

Catherine touched her arm lightly, jerking Laura back to the present. “Where to now?” she asked.

Laura grinned. “Somewhere unexpected,” she answered. “Somewhere no one would ever think to look.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Laura and Catherine and Angelina sat in the front seat of the first car behind the small steam engine. With an ear-splitting whistle and a noxious emission of black smoke, the train started off. Angelina hung on tightly to the railing, her face ecstatic. Behind her, rows of similarly entranced children were perched in their seats, surrounded by watchful caretakers.

“You’re right. No one would ever think to look for us here,” Catherine remarked as she removed her hands from her ears and the scarf from her face. It hadn’t been clean to begin with, but now it was black with soot. The train had a roof, which mercifully protected them from the continuing drizzle, but the sides were open. This had the effect of letting in uninterrupted fumes and noise as well as unrestricted views.

Laura laughed; then her face sobered. “I hope no one will think to look for us at our next port of call, either. It’s an unexpected place to go, certainly, but a lot will depend on luck.”

She had consulted the map and managed to work out a route to their next destination – Torrington Manor. As she had hoped, her memory had been accurate. The children’s train wound along a curving track from a station near the cottage until it reached a similar station to the east; then it turned around and went back to its starting point. Passengers could get on and off at either station, and the second station was less than a mile from the manor. They could walk from there.

Laura’s lips tightened. She still thought the manor was the last place anyone would think to look for them, but it was also the place where their enemies gathered. She comforted herself by recalling that the house was very large and that there must be plenty of empty rooms to hide in, if they could just get to them unseen. Besides, if her plan worked, no one would recognize them anyway.

Catherine’s voice broke into her reverie. “This was an inspiration!” she yelled as the train gathered speed, clattering noisily along its tracks after another deafening series of whistles. “Angelina actually lives up to her name in this setting.”

Laura smiled. It was true. Angelina’s face was transfixed with delight. The poor child probably didn’t get to indulge in children’s activities very often. It was hard to imagine Antonia or anyone else bringing her here, yet the little train was only a few minutes drive from Torrington Manor.

“Thanks,” she yelled back, pleased that this part of her plan was a success. As well as providing much needed transportation, the promise of a train ride had been the only way to persuade Angelina to keep walking. The major problem now, Laura realized, would be persuading her to get off the train again when they reached the halfway point.

Her assessment was correct. Angelina put up such a fuss when the time came that people began to stare. Fearful of attracting unwanted attention, Laura decided this was not the moment to press home lessons about how tantrums did not get the desired results. Instead, they returned to their starting point and embarked on a second trip, and when Angelina still showed no signs of cooperating, on a third. They had to wait until evening to put the rest of the plan into operation and this seemed as good a way to spend the time as any other, Laura reasoned, although distinctly dirtier.

“We’ve only got a short walk and then we’re there,” she said brightly when they finally extracted Angelina from the train after the third ride. Laura hoped she was right. She didn’t want to walk on the roads for fear of being seen, so she had decided to go cross-country, using map and compass for direction. It didn’t look very far, but with no clear walking path it was hard to tell.

Angelina regarded them mutinously. “I don’t want to walk anymore,” she stated, and sat down on the station bench, hands firmly clenched around its slats. Catherine sighed, unable to think of a solution. Laura remembered early hikes with her own children and had an inspiration.

“Do you have M& M’s or anything of that sort?” she whispered to Catherine.

“Only an old chocolate bar somewhere in my pack,” Catherine answered. “Why?”

“When my kids were little, I bribed them with M&M's at intervals, to keep them going,” Laura answered shamelessly. “We had to get them to the campground to spend the night, and that was the only way they were going to move any further.”

Catherine laughed. “Not so different than carrots for a horse or chunks of bread for the dogs,” she said. “I think it’s a great idea.”

She went back to Angelina. “I know you don’t want to walk any more,” she said, “but I have another game. It’s called the chocolate game. Every time ten whole minutes have passed, you get a chocolate reward if you keep walking all that time.”

Angelina hopped off the bench. “I bet ten whole minutes have already passed since we got off the train,” she ventured.

“But you haven’t been walking,” Laura countered. “Let’s get started right now, and then the ten minutes will be up even sooner.”

Angelina began to flag after five minutes but walked on gamely until the time came for the reward. Catherine reached into the depths of her pack and pulled out a squashed candy bar. Angelina regarded it dubiously.

“Is it good?”

“Marvelous,” Catherine assured her, and broke off a generous chunk.

Even a triple bribe, however, failed to move Angelina when they came to a thick swath of gorse and blackberry bushes. Laura could hardly blame her. The child’s legs were bare. Sighing, she heaved Angelina onto her back. The trouble with using a map and compass as guides, she realized belatedly, was that they had to walk in a straight line, and that could be downright hazardous. In the absence of a path, there was nothing gentle about this countryside.

Angelina was a solid child, and Laura was glad to put her down again when they reached some fences. She was also an unpredictable one. She scrambled expertly under the fences, looked appraisingly at the trickling streams that ran through the marshy ground ahead, and announced that she wanted to walk now. Splashing happily, she managed to get all of them very wet.

“As long as water doesn’t come in the form of rain, it’s acceptable,” Catherine commented in exasperation. “Where are we, anyway?”

Laura consulted her compass. They still seemed to be on course. “The manor should come into sight just over that next hill,” she answered with a confidence she wasn’t sure she felt.

They trudged up the hill; then staggered down unexpectedly steep cliffs on the other side, hanging on to trees or sliding on their backsides so they wouldn’t fall. At the bottom of the hill, they dragged themselves under yet another barbed wire fence and set off across the field it enclosed. A group of cows trotted over and stood blocking their way. The chimneys of Torrington Manor loomed tantalizingly beyond them.

Angelina approached a cow and stroked its nose. The animal put its head down, swiped it sideways in a sudden movement, and knocked Angelina off her feet. “Stupid bloody cow,” she screamed. “You’re not supposed to do that. Cows are supposed to eat grass!” She pushed the cow full in the face with a clenched fist. It turned and fled. The other cows followed, their hoofs thudding into the soft earth.

“I don’t like cows any more,” Angelina announced.

Catherine gulped. “I’m not sure I liked them all that well in the first place,” she admitted. “I think you were very brave, Angelina.”

Angelina looked surprised. “I was?” She considered the matter. “Since I was so brave, will you give me a piggy-back this time?”

Catherine consented, and sprinted to the next fence. The manor was just ahead now, and Laura’s nervousness increased. Maybe it had been a terrible idea to come here. What if the wrong person saw them or they couldn’t get in? And how were they to keep Angelina quiet while she figured out their next move?

Catherine proved equal to that task. “This is like one of Nigel’s mystery games,” she told Angelina. “We have to sneak around and not let anyone see us. We might even try to sneak into the house without anyone seeing us!”

“I know how to do that,” Angelina said confidently. “Nigel showed me. You have to go in through the cellar. It’s nasty down there, though.”

Laura was startled. That was an unexpected boon, if it was true.

“I bet your cellar is no worse than the one at the cottage,” Catherine said. “Besides, we’ll be there, too. We can all go together.”

“Okay,” Angelina agreed. “We have to go in there.” She pointed at an old-fashioned folding door that lay at an angle against the side of the house at ground level. Each side of the door had to be lifted up and then folded to the side to reach the cellar below. They would probably creak, Laura thought, and looked around nervously. No one was in sight, but someone could appear at any moment.

“Worth a try,” Catherine whispered. The sound of a car coming up the road decided them. Together, they scuttled to the house and heaved the heavy doors open, revealing a set of steep stairs. Holding Angelina between them, they went cautiously down; then reached back to pull the doors closed behind them. Immediately, the darkness was absolute. A musty smell so strong they had to struggle for breath enveloped them. Gasping, Laura fumbled for her flashlight and switched it on.

Angelina seemed unaffected by the dank atmosphere. “I want to hold the torch,” she stated, and held out her hand.

“You can if you promise to shine it all around,” Laura agreed. Angelina complied, moving the thin beam in a wavering circle. The cellar seemed to go on forever, stretching into the blackness like some medieval dungeon. And perhaps it was, Laura thought. Torrington Manor must be very old.

Catherine brought out her own flashlight and shone it more methodically around the huge space. On the far wall, rows and rows of slatted shelves held moldy-looking wine bottles that Laura suspected were magnificent vintages. She hoped they weren’t too old to drink. What a waste that would be!

A huge structure that looked like a trouser press except larger loomed against one wall. “Do you suppose it irons sheets?” Laura whispered.

“If people iron sheets,” Catherine replied, displaying a cavalier ignorance of how the sheets on the bed she had slept on last night had acquired their pristine smoothness. “There have to be stairs around here someplace,” she went on, moving her light around.

Laura saw a number of doors, some open, some closed, and wished she could search the rooms behind them. They might hold all manner of clues as well as junk. Later, she would come back and look into all of them.

Angelina corrected Catherine’s idea. “It’s not stairs, it’s a tunnel and then stairs,” she told them impatiently, as if they really ought to know. “You have to go through the tunnel first.”

A tunnel! Laura was thrilled. Maybe the manor really did have a secret passage, as Maude had suggested, built during one of the rebellions so the inhabitants of the house could hide or escape from their enemies. In books at least, there was often a door concealed in the paneling of one of the rooms from which steep stairs or a ladder led to the underground passage. Sometimes the passages led all the way from the house to a concealed exit in the rocks or some other secluded place.

“That’s pretty neat,” Catherine said enthusiastically. “I think a tunnel’s a great idea. Show us the way, Angelina. Let’s go!”

Gratified by their excitement, Angelina proudly led the way across the room, shining the torch in front of her. “You have to pull that away,” she told them, pointing to a large and very old chest of drawers. It looked as if it had stood undisturbed for hundreds of years, but when Catherine shone her light on it, Laura saw clear handprints in the dust on each side of the massive piece. Nigel must have moved it, so perhaps it wasn’t as heavy as it looked.

Beside it, looking distinctly out of place in this ancient setting, was a gleaming white freezer chest. A long extension cord snaked across the floor, suggesting that it was in use. Laura frowned at it, offended by its modernity, then turned her attention to the big bureau. Placing their hands firmly against its sides, she and Catherine managed to pivot it slowly out of the way. Behind it was a hole about four feet high. Laura’s enthusiasm waned. Did she really want to crawl through that? She had never liked being confined in small spaces.

Angelina darted into the hole and sped along, waving the torch wildly ahead of her. Catherine slipped off her backpack and followed at a slower pace, since she had to stoop and shove her pack in front of her. Laura had no choice but to follow. The others had the flashlights, and being left alone in this huge dark cellar was definitely worse than squeezing through a hole.

“Wait for me!” she called. The sound reverberated along the muddy walls but no answer came back. Bending over as far as she could, Laura crept into the dark space in a vain effort to catch up. She bumped her head hard, pulled it lower and bumped her back instead, and she kept tripping over her backpack. Her elbows scraped painfully against the sides of the hole, which was rocky as well as narrow, much too narrow to turn around in. Laura felt the beginnings of panic. There wasn’t much air in here, either. Almost none, in fact. It was already getting hard to breathe.

“Wait,” she called breathlessly. “I can’t see. You’ve got the lights.” This time there was an answer, and some of her panic receded.

“Sorry. I’ll try to shine mine back.” Catherine’s answer seemed to come from a great distance. A feeble glow lit up the ground ahead of Laura’s feet. She lumbered toward it, trying not to think about spiders or rats.

“This is horrible,” she muttered as she bumped her head for at least the tenth time. Dropping to her knees, she tried crawling instead, but that was worse since her knees and hands suffered as badly as the upper part of her body. She raised herself stiffly again and scrambled on, feeling like a stiff and exceptionally clumsy crab.

Catherine heard her labored breathing. “Almost there,” she said comfortingly. “It opens out up here.”

“If I could, I’d go backwards,” Laura rasped. “I don’t think I can stand much more of this.”

Fortunately for all of them, she didn’t have to. As Catherine had said, the passage opened out, revealing a ladder that led straight up into the darkness. It was a very old ladder with rungs that looked as it they could crumble at a touch. Laura eyed it warily.