Dead of Winter, The by Priestley Chris

Author:Priestley, Chris [Priestley, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Horror, Mystery, Juvenile
ISBN: 9781599908212
Publisher: Bloomsbury UK
Published: 2010-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

I was awoken by Edith tapping at my door, and was surprised when I heard her walk in and gasp in astonishment. As I raised myself up to look at her, I saw anger on her face for the first time.

‘Sir!’ she said crossly. ‘What have you done?’

‘Done?’ I said blearily. ‘Whatever’s the …’

But then I saw what it was had made Edith so vexed. The floor was strewn all about with spare bedding from the blanket box, my clothes and all manner of things, as if a whirlwind had passed through the room.

‘It’s me that will have to clear this up,’ said Edith tightly. ‘If Miss Charlotte sees it …’

She began to sob. It took me a few moments to gather my thoughts. My door had been locked. The key was still where I had put it the night before. How? How?

‘I shall clear it up, Edith,’ I said. ‘I promise. Miss Charlotte won’t have anything to complain of.’

‘I suppose it was a fine joke to play on me, then,’ she said between sobs.

‘It wasn’t a joke,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, Edith. Truly.’

Edith sighed.

‘I shall come back later when you’re at breakfast, sir,’ she said, and hurriedly left.

Though I stared at the litter around the room in horrible wonder for some minutes, by the time I had tidied up and got dressed to go down to breakfast I had calmed myself a little. I had hoped to wake up to the realisation that I had simply fallen asleep after going to bed exhausted and dreamt the whole thing. It certainly had the flavour of a nightmare.

But it had clearly not been a dream. Somebody had been outside my door. Somebody had tried the handle. Somebody had run away before I could catch them. Somebody had come back when I was asleep and done this to my room. The idea of someone there when I was asleep was horrible.

I walked down the stairs and into the hall as Charlotte appeared from the drawing room. She moved towards me with her usual silent grace. She was wearing a dress of deepest blue and of a satin sheen and it shimmered like sunlit water as she moved.

‘I trust you slept well, Michael,’ she said, clicking her fingernails together rhythmically.

‘I’m afraid not,’ I said, still reeling from the sight that had greeted me.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said, laying a stiff hand on my shoulder. ‘Are you not comfortable here?’

What was I to answer to a question like that? I smiled as best as I could and said, ‘Yes, of course.’

‘I hope we did not disturb you in the night?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think so …’ I said, wondering what she could mean.

‘I’m afraid that Sir Stephen was taken ill again,’ she said. ‘He was very agitated indeed. He was so looking forward to your visit, Michael, but I fear you may see little of him during the remainder of your stay.’

That would hardly present a problem to me, I thought to myself, and yet it made a mockery of his insistence that I be in that house over Christmas.

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