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“I’m so tired of getting up at the crack of dawn,” one voice was saying. “Walter can sleep until nine in the morning. Not us! I should’ve stayed on the farm milking cows.”
“Walter’s on duty half the night, Clarrie. Your cap’s crooked,” said the second voice. “Tuck your hair neatly under it, or Mrs. Mason will be cross.”
“She’s always cross anyway,” grumbled the first voice.
“There are much stricter housekeepers, Clarrie dear. Come on, or we’ll be late. Mary went downstairs fifteen minutes ago.”
“Yes, and she made her bed first. Always busy, always neat, just the way Mrs. Mason likes her housemaids. Mary does it on purpose. Have you felt her blanket? It’s ever so soft. That’s not fair!”
I had to get out of here, fast. But where could I go? Good thing I knew my way around the house.
“I’ve been given a horrid scratchy blanket,” Clarrie’s voice complained.
“You’ll be glad of it in winter. Come along.”
The door handle was pressed down. I raced over to the built-in cupboard, flung the door open, and shut it again after me, just as the door of Nick’s room opened.
“I don’t see why I have to have a scratchy blanket and Mary gets a nice soft one,” Clarrie’s voice went on. “It’s so unfair. Betty can go out into the country with Lady Montrose, and we have to spend all summer in the stuffy city air.”
“You really should try not to complain so much, Clarrie.”
I agreed with the other woman. This girl Clarrie was a real Moaning Minnie.
I heard the two of them go downstairs and breathed a sigh of relief. That was a close one! But now what? Should I just wait in the cupboard until I traveled back again? That was probably the safest thing to do. Sighing, I crossed my arms.
Behind me in the darkness, someone grunted.
I froze with horror. What, for heaven’s sake, was that?
“Is that you, Clarrie?” asked a voice from the shelf where the clean sheets were stacked. It was a male voice. “Did I oversleep?”
Heavens above! Someone actually slept in this cupboard! What a way to treat a person!
“Clarrie? Mary? Who’s that?” asked the voice. Its owner sounded more awake now. There were noises in the cupboard. A hand reached out and touched my back. I wasn’t hanging about, waiting for it to grab hold of me—I opened the cupboard door and ran for it.
“Stop! Stay where you are!”
I looked back over my shoulder. A young man in a long white shirt emerged from the cupboard to catch me.
I ran downstairs. Where on earth was I going to hide now? The footsteps of the man from the cupboard came closer, and he was shouting, “Stop, thief!”
Thief? I couldn’t believe my ears. What was I supposed to have stolen? His nightcap or something?
Luckily I could have run down these stairs even in my sleep. I was already familiar with every single step. I raced down two flights of stairs at the speed of light, and then past Great-great-great-great-great-uncle Hugh’s portrait—leaving it behind on my left with some regret, because the secret door behind it would have been a great way to get out of this stupid situation. But the doorknob always jammed slightly, and in the time I’d have needed to get the door open, the man in the nightshirt would have caught up with me. No, I needed a better place to hide.
On the first floor I almost collided with a housemaid carrying a big jug. She squealed as I raced past, then dropped the jug, just like in a scene from a film. Water splashed to the floor, along with broken china.
I hoped my pursuer would slip and fall on it—like in a farce. He wouldn’t get past the water and broken china too quickly, anyway. I made use of my start on him to run down the steps to the musicians’ gallery, open the door to the little storage space under it, and crouch inside. It was dusty and untidy in here, the same as in my own time, and full of cobwebs. A little light fell in through the gaps between the steps, enough for me to see that at least there wasn’t anyone sleeping in this cupboard. It was crammed with old junk, just like in the twenty-first century.
Above me, I heard loud voices. The man in the nightshirt was talking to the poor housemaid who had dropped the jug.
“The girl must be a thief! I never saw her here in the house before.”
Other voices joined in.
“She ran on down. Maybe there’s a whole pack of them here.”
“Please, Mrs. Mason, I couldn’t help it. The thief just ran into me. I expect they’re after her ladyship’s jewels.”
