‘Extraordinary,’ said Leo, when Michael reached the part where Esther’s body had been cut down, and John Hurst had agreed to conceal the evidence.
‘That’s as far as I got,’ said Michael. ‘Then Nell turned up and the fire started, and everything was chaotic. I thought we’d read the last few pages now, but I think we’ll simply find they burned her body in the old furnace.’
‘You brought the journal with you?’ said Leo.
‘I did. I wasn’t going to leave it there. And,’ said Michael, taking the journal from his jacket pocket and setting it down on the table, ‘it’s a good thing I did, because it would either have been destroyed by fire or drenched to sodden illegibility by the firefighters.’ He looked at Nell. ‘It’s written by a woman,’ he said. ‘So it’s a woman’s “voice”.’
Nell stared at him, not immediately comprehending.
‘I suspect Michael thinks it would sound better if you read it,’ said Leo. ‘I agree.’
‘Well …’
‘Please.’
Nell made a gesture of acceptance, and reached for the book.
‘Her writing’s very clear,’ she said, after a moment. ‘All right, here goes.’ She reached out to tilt a small table lamp slightly nearer, then began to read the closing pages of Maria Porringer’s journal.
It was John Hurst who carried Esther down to the stone corridors beneath the Hall, and along to the furnace room. I went with him, of course.
We had told the children to stay in the hall, and most of them did so. It was only as we went down the steps that I saw two small shadows behind me, and realized that Rosie and Daisy Mabbley had followed us.
‘You are to go back upstairs at once,’ I said, sharply.
‘No,’ said Rosie with defiance, and Daisy shook her head. ‘We want to see that she’s gone. We want to make sure she can’t come back.’
‘She was evil,’ said Rosie. ‘She killed her own children.’
‘She chopped them up with a knife,’ put in Daisy, her voice trembling.
‘Dead people don’t come back,’ said Hurst, in an unexpectedly gentle voice. ‘And although she did that wicked thing, her mind was sick – very sick.’
‘Now do as you’re told,’ I said.
‘You can’t tell us what to do any longer.’ Rosie again, of course, very mutinous. ‘We don’t live here now.’
‘We’re going to live in London with our mother,’ affirmed Daisy.
‘Let them come with us,’ said Hurst, impatiently. ‘It’ll teach them a lesson if nothing else.’
So they came with us, walking down the steps and along the stone corridor. I had the oil lamp, and in fact it was useful to have the two girls with us, for Rosie was able to carry the second of the lamps.
We went past those silent rooms where condemned prisoners were once kept until their execution. Even to me it’s a bad place – I do not accept that emotions can linger in a building, but since coming to live at Deadlight Hall, there have been times, walking along that corridor for some ordinary domestic reason, when I have felt the weight of those prisoners’ fear and despair.
The furnace room is a dingy, dismal place, and if there had been any other means of heating I should have insisted that the furnace be ripped out by its roots, and the room closed off. But I do not think there was any other way, and as far as I could ever make out, the furnace and all its pipes are built into the structure of the building.
Hurst had fired the furnace effectively – I suspect he would be efficient at whatever he did – and it was roaring away, heat belching out, the scent of hot iron tainting the air. Scarlet fire showed all round the edges of the door.