AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“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.”
“I didn’t meet anyone on the stairs, so she must still be here somewhere. Make sure the front door is locked and search the house,” ordered an energetic female voice. “As for you, Walter, go upstairs at once and put something on to cover your hairy legs. Not a nice sight first thing in the morning.”
I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I’d hidden in here about a million times when I was little, but I’d never been so scared of being found. Cautiously, so as not to make any noise that might give me away, I squeezed farther in among the junk. A spider ran over my arm, such a big one that I almost screeched with fright.
“Lester, Mr. Jenkins, and Tott, you search the ground floor and the cellars. Mary and I will search the first floor. Clarrie, guard the back door, and, Helen, you watch the front door.”
“Suppose she tries getting out through the kitchen?”
“She’d have to get past Mrs. Craine and her iron pans first. Look in the cupboards under the stairs and behind all the curtains.”
I was finished.
Oh, dammit. This was all just so—so surreal!
Here I was sitting in my pajamas in a cupboard, surrounded by fat spiders, dusty furniture, and—oh, my God, was that by any chance a stuffed crocodile?—and waiting to be arrested for theft. And all because Sir Isaac Newton had gotten his stupid sums wrong.
I felt so angry and helpless that I started crying. Maybe these people would feel sorry for me when they found me. The crocodile’s glass eyes sparkled mockingly in the dim light. There were footsteps to be heard all over the house now. Dust from the steps was falling into my eyes.
But then I felt that tugging sensation in my stomach again. I’d never been so glad of it. The crocodile blurred before my eyes, everything spun wildly, and all was quiet again. And pitch-dark.
I heaved a huge sigh. Don’t panic, I thought. Presumably I’d traveled home again. And I was probably now stuck among the junk under these steps in our own time. When the place also had fat spiders in it.
Something soft touched my face. In a panic, I flailed my arms and hauled my legs out from under a chest of drawers. There was a rumbling sound, boards creaked, an old lamp fell over. That’s to say, I thought it was a lamp, but I couldn’t see a thing. I could wriggle out, however. Relieved, I made my way to the cupboard door and crawled out of hiding. It was still dark outside the cupboard as well, but I could just about see the outline of the banisters, the tall windows, the sparkling chandeliers.
And a figure coming toward me. The beam of a flashlight dazzled me.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound would come out.
“Were you looking for anything in particular in that cubbyhole, Miss Gwyneth?” asked the figure. It was Mr. Bernard. “I’ll be happy to help you find it.”
“I, er … I…” I still felt breathless. It was the fright I’d had affecting my lungs. “What are you doing down here, Mr. Bernard?”
“I heard a noise,” said Mr. Bernard, with great dignity. “You seem to be a little—well, dusty.”
