"Damn!" Matthew slammed his fist against the oak panelling. "How are we supposed to get in?"
"Stay calm. If there is a room behind here I'm sure Lord Alfred would have ensured it was possible for us to get in."
Charles began to run his fingertips over the rough, gnarled oak panelling. It was difficult to see anything clearly with what little light managed to find its way into the area.
"Shall I fetch a torch?"
"Good idea. In the meantime I'll keep searching."
"For what, exactly?"
"Well, if I find it I'll tell you."
Matthew vanished into the gloom on his quest for some illumination. Left alone, Charles continued to explore the panelling. Surely there must be some sort of doorway?
Suddenly, he froze. He had heard something. It was similar to the sound he'd heard in the library a couple of days ago. There it was again. That same scrabbling sound. James had thought it might be a rat. It didn't sound like a rat to Charles. He moved back into the shadows as he realised that someone was moving along one of the corridors in his direction. It was probably James, he told himself, yet his heart pounded with the feeling that something was not quite right. Should he stay concealed or confront this mysterious stranger? Before he had any more time to think a shape materialised out of the darkness and, before he quite knew what he was doing, he had stepped out in front of it.
The shape screamed and dropped a large stack of bed linen. "Oh, sir, you startled me!"
"Mrs Gillcarey, I'm so sorry." Charles stooped to help her pick up all the sheets and pillowcases, while she was clucking around like some old mother hen.
"Oh, that's alright, sir. My own silly fault, really. There now, no harm done." Tut-tutting to herself she gathered everything up. Then, with her arms full, she tried to blow the hair out of her eyes which had somehow fallen over her face in the excitement.
"I do apologise again, Mrs Gillcarey. It's just that I've been hearing some strange sounds during my stay at Heston Grange, and they have started to make me feel a little on edge."
Mrs Gillcarey laughed. It was a round, comfortable laugh.
"Ho ho ho. Well, Mr Seymour, sir, from time to time I have heard tales that this house has more than its fair share of spooks but you can take it from me that I've never seen any. No. Not even one. Anyway, if I did see something I think they'd probably be more frightened at the sight of me than the other way about!" She laughed again.
"Thank you, that's good to hear."
"Er… is there anything I can help you with, sir?"
"Well, actually, as a matter of fact, yes, perhaps you can help. I believe there may be a room on the other side of this wall. Would you happen to know anything about that?"
"Oh, certainly sir."
"You do?" Charles could hardly believe his ears.
"Yes, sir. There is a room behind there. It used to be occupied by Meg, the Lord and Lady's maid. She doesn't work here now though. After Lord Alfred lost his wife he felt he didn't need the services of a maid so she was let go. Still, she ain't done too badly out of it — His Lordship said she could stay in the Lodge, and that's where she's been from that day to this."
"How do I get into the room?"
"Through the door, sir." She spoke with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
"Hmm… quite so, Mrs Gillcarey. Er… where is it?"
"Oh, there I go forgetting my place! I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't waste your time by jesting, you being a busy man and all. The door's right here."
She stepped aside and pointed to a particular portion of panelling.
"That's it? That's the door?"
"Yes, sir. There's no handle, but you can see… just there… is a tiny keyhole."
Charles pushed against the panelling.
"It appears to be locked."
"Yes, sir, and the key has been missing for quite some time. No idea where it is."
"I suppose we could always just break it down."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that, sir. All this timber is very old. You start crashing and banging about, you're likely to bring the whole thing falling in."
Thinking back to the rickety bridge leading to the tower, Charles had to agree.
"Was there anything else, sir?"
"No, thank you. You've been very helpful."
She went on her way and was swallowed up by the darkness just as Matthew returned with a torch. Charles showed him the keyhole. It wasn't at all surprising that they had been unable to see it at first, hidden as it was positioned between two knots in the wood. Then he told him about his conversation with the Housekeeper and about Meg, the former maid.
"Well, she might be able to tell us where the key is," said Matthew, "and if she’s just in the Lodge at the end of the drive perhaps we should pay her a little visit."
Chapter 9
The afternoon had suddenly become much colder. Charles and Matthew walked down the long driveway towards the main gate and the lodge. They had considered using the car but decided the exercise would do them both good, having been cooped up inside for the last couple of days. It didn't occur to either of them that they had actually been getting plenty of exercise already as they worked their way all over the house in their search for clues. Furthermore, they hadn't quite realised just how far away the lodge was and now, as the wind picked up and the chill started to bite, they both privately wondered whether taking the car hadn't been such a bad idea after all. With collars turned up and hands thrust deeply into pockets they trudged along the unmetalled road and sighed with relief as the lodge at last came into view, with the high imposing gates to the outside world just beyond.
The lodge was a quaint, quintessentially English cottage with lattice windows. A white picket fence stood a few feet in front of it, with a gate opening onto a short pathway of crazy paving. This lead up to a panelled front door in which just one of the panels was made of glass, enabling the occupant to see who was visiting before opening the door. All the curtains were closed, but the glow from some lights within could be seen at their edges so Charles and Matthew approached the door and knocked. They waited for a few moments but there was no response. Matthew raised his fist to knock again, but just at that moment a small wrinkled face appeared in the glass panel and eyed them both. After pausing for only a moment, the head nodded in apparent satisfaction and disappeared, after which a bolt was drawn back and the door was opened. Charles stepped forward and offered his hand.
"Hello, my name is- "
"I'm glad you've finally arrived," she interrupted, sweetly. "I've been waiting for you. Come inside and I'll bring you your coffee."
Charles exchanged a puzzled glance with Matthew and, somewhat bemused, the two of them followed her in. She led the way into a small but comfortable sitting room containing sofas and chairs which were over stuffed, and ornaments of all kinds adorning shelves in every inch of available wall space. She motioned for them to be seated and then went through another door into her even smaller kitchen from where the sounds of cups and saucers rattling together could be heard, along with a kettle boiling. She came back a couple of minutes later carrying a tray.
"Here's your tea," she said. "Nice and hot, just the way you like it. Oh, now look at me! I forgot to bring any cake."
Before either man could speak, she beetled away and various kitchen-like sounds emanated once again. Returning a few moments later, she proudly announced, "Here we are, then. A nice selection of biscuits. Please help yourselves."
They began to sip their tea, and Matthew nibbled on a biscuit. Meg watched them attentively, a maternal smile on her tiny face, while Charles tried to think how to start the conversation. After a moment, he cleared his throat.