The Lost Ones. Anita Frank
bedside light. I don’t know what compelled me to pick up the lead soldier, but I did, slipping it into my cardigan pocket before I left the room.
Receiving no reply when I tapped lightly on Madeleine’s door, I surmised she must already be taking breakfast so I hurried to join her.
I descended into the gloom of the hall, quickly crossing the chilly cavern into the bleak corridor beyond, the echo of my footsteps softening as marble gave way to polished wood. I had only proceeded a short way when a rapid swishing of skirts revealed I was being pursued. My heart leapt into my mouth as Mrs Henge called my name.
‘Goodness! Mrs Henge, you quite startled me!’
Her face remained impassive. ‘Miss Marcham, I did not mean to alarm you.’
I laughed at my own skittishness, but she met my self-deprecatory humour with a flicker of disdain. I flushed.
‘Was there something you wanted?’
‘I merely wished to check that you had settled in and have everything you need.’
‘I do indeed, thank you.’
She expressed her satisfaction with a slight nod. She folded her hands before her. ‘If I may be so bold, Miss Marcham, may I say how pleased I am to have Mrs Brightwell with us. I very much hope she will, in time, come to see Greyswick as her home and feel some fondness for it.’
‘You make it sound as if Mrs Brightwell doesn’t like it here.’
‘Sometimes, it seems, Mrs Brightwell is not – comfortable – here.’
I could see how Madeleine might struggle to feel ‘comfortable’ in the house her mother-in-law continued to reign over like a grand matriarch, but I found it interesting that Mrs Henge had also detected Madeleine’s disquiet. For the first time, I had a proper opportunity to study Greyswick’s housekeeper, now she was finally out in the open and no longer draped in shade. She was not as ancient as I had first perceived, though I suspected her late middle years were calling. The heavy set of her features, her Roman nose and broad chin suggested she had never enjoyed great beauty. Her hair was a uniform grey and her skin had long lost the suppleness of youth. It sagged now, weary lines fanning from her eyes, while deep channels carved down the sides of her mouth. The one extraordinary feature she did possess, however, were her eyes. They were the clearest grey I had ever seen, like thick sheets of pond ice, with only the merest hint of colour in their transparency. I wondered what treacherous depths they concealed.
‘My sister tells me you have been with the family for a long time, Mrs Henge.’
Her lips quirked in a way that felt strangely measured, practised somehow. ‘I have indeed, miss. I was with Sir Arthur from the time he was a young man just starting to make his way in the world. It has been an honour and a privilege to serve in such an esteemed family for all these years. I hope I may continue to serve long after the next generation arrives.’
‘An old retainer is a highly valued asset.’
I thought of how I cherished dear Brown and Mrs Scrivens. I so often took their service for granted, and yet I knew they were completely irreplaceable, and much loved. Swelled with tenderness, I laid my hand on Mrs Henge’s arm, but she flinched at the unanticipated touch, and I quickly withdrew it, somewhat embarrassed.
‘They are very lucky to have you, Mrs Henge,’ I said, hoping to mitigate for any discomfort I may have caused.
‘Annie is being most helpful, miss.’ I think both of us welcomed the change of subject. ‘She’s a queer sort, if you don’t mind me saying, but she’s a good worker, I’ll give her that.’
‘Well, it’s a strange house to her, Mrs Henge, and she is not the most experienced of girls, but I’m sure she’ll do her best.’ I thought of Mrs Scrivens’ concerns. ‘She has a few foibles, but we all have our idiosyncrasies after all. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m hoping to catch my sister at breakfast.’
‘Mrs Brightwell is indeed still in the dining room, Miss Marcham. Lady Brightwell and Miss Scott have already left for the day.’
‘What busy lives they lead,’ I observed dryly.
It was impossible to read the housekeeper’s leaden expression. She offered a courteous dip of her head and turned back to the hall. I remembered the toy soldier and was about to call after her but then decided not to. It was probably nothing more than a foolish prank by the housemaid, and I had no desire to get the girl into trouble. Perhaps I would have a quiet word with her myself, if Annie was disinclined to do so, or indeed if I found myself in receipt of another such bedtime gift. I pressed on to the dining room.
Madeleine shuffled round in her chair to beam at me as I entered.
‘There you are at last! Did you sleep well? I slept wonderfully – I knew I would rest better with you here.’
She caught my hand as I leant down to kiss her and brought it to her lips. I was heartened to see her restored to her usual humour. She chattered merrily as I helped myself to bacon, eggs and kidney. Deciding to indulge, I slipped a muffin onto my plate.
Madeleine was very keen to visit the local town as there were a number of purchases she needed to make and required my advice. I was quite happy to fall in with whatever plans she had and we decided to take the omnibus, as Lady Brightwell had already commandeered the car.
I was full to bursting by the time I popped the last morsel of jam-slathered muffin into my mouth. Madeleine had been fidgeting to be gone for the last five minutes, and the moment my lips closed she pushed back her chair.
‘Come along, Stella, we simply can’t miss the ’bus.’
Still chewing, I got to my feet, and as I did so, I felt the weight of the toy soldier pull at my pocket.
‘Oh! I almost forgot, I had the most peculiar bedfellow last night.’
Madeleine burst out laughing. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Grinning, I ceremoniously stood the figure on the table. The smile froze on Madeleine’s face as the spark faded from her eyes. The edges of her mouth relaxed until her lips were pressed into a thin line.
‘Where did you find him?’
I fought a sense of foreboding as I offered my response. She nodded distractedly, before flinging her napkin onto him.
‘I can’t stand the things.’ She turned on her heel, her movements taut as she strode for the door. ‘Anyway, we’d best hurry. That omnibus won’t wait for us.’
I made several attempts to broach the subject of the soldier throughout the course of the morning, but Madeleine was always quick to change the subject. Her demeanour remained cheery and light, but I couldn’t help noticing a strain about her eyes and a tension to her smile, that hadn’t been evident before the figure’s appearance. I found the whole situation most curious.
It was late afternoon before we clambered down from the ’bus and began the long walk up the drive to the house. Madeleine grew quieter as we approached the grey mansion.
Mrs Henge must have been watching for us – she hauled open the front door before we reached the top step. She stood in patient attendance as we unburdened ourselves of hats, coats and parcels.
‘I am quite worn out from all that,’ Madeleine confessed. Her subdued manner was reflected in her pale cheeks and dull eyes. ‘I think I might take a lie down for a while. Will you come up with me?’
We used the last of our reserves to climb the vast staircase, too drained even for conversation. As we entered the corridor leading to our rooms our steps faltered to a standstill. Annie Burrows was crouched outside my bedroom door. There was a furtiveness about her which immediately aroused my suspicion. It appeared I was not alone: Madeleine tensed beside me.
Noticing our arrival, the young maid shot up. She dipped a brief curtsy, before scuttling past us, her right hand clenched by her side. We watched her disappear through the servants’