*I must go home.'

*There may be complications. You need proper care.'

*Eppie mustn't go. Not there. Eppie you run after Gramps.'

*I won't leave you, Mam!'

Gabriel glanced at Eppie's anxious face. *We need to make Mrs Dunham comfortable. You'll find rugs in the carriage. Arrange them on a seat.'

She crossed to where the horses waited patiently, chomping on their bits. Fulke, smelling strongly of horse provender, glared at her as she stepped inside. Mud dripped from her sodden frock onto a rug and the padded seats.

Out of earshot of the others, Gabriel spoke softly to Martha. *There is nothing to worry about, Mrs Dunham. Mother knows about Eppie.'

*She knows?' Martha feared that if she did not die from this accident, she would surely perish from a massive heart palpitation.

*She knows that Eppie and I spend time together.'

*That is all?'

Gabriel's voice was so low it was scarcely audible. *What more is there to tell?'

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

STUCK UP A CHIMNEY.

Intimidated by the presence of the servants within, Eppie chose not to follow Martha through the grand front door into the house. So, here she lingered on a lawn divided by symmetrical paths and knee-high box hedges. Ugly stumps of yews stuck out of the lawn, forming a circle like a henge. To indulge Talia her mother had asked Alf, the head gardener, to shape the yews to look like wildwood creatures. Shortly after Talia's death, du Quesne had the trees felled. Lady Constance never forgave her husband for this barbarous act and, to aggravate him, refused to have the trunks removed.

A magical aura emanated from the wood henge, stillness like the silence of sleep, as though Talia were putting Eppie's mind at ease. Martha and the baby were going to be fine.

About the manor, with its stone mullion windows, was a marked gloominess. It appeared to have grown over the centuries, with bits added higgledy-piggledy. The Swan Chamber projected into a turret. Supported on stone pillars it looked like a giant's lantern. A Chilean potato tree with star-like purple flowers rambled up an ironwork trellis to the sill of the window. Eppie recalled Gabriel telling her about the climbing plant and her surprised response, *You grow potatoes up your house!'

Jackdaws cawed hideously, alighting upon the multitude of spiral-motif chimneys.

Climbing to an open doorway, she slumped beside a Grecian urn and smacked her shoes on the steps to remove mud. A ramp swept down one side of the steps, presumably for the ease of conveying her ladyship into the garden in her wheeled chair.

Spying Eppie, a freshly-starched chambermaid paced towards her, agitatedly wafting her apron. *Shoo. If Mrs Bellows sees ya she'll have a faint.'

Eppie stood up smartly, startled to see Molly Leiff working here.

*Have a faint if I see whom?' the housekeeper demanded in a stentorian voice.

*A gypsy girl's come a-begging, Mrs Bellows, m'am.'

Mrs Bellows shoved Molly to the side to make way for her tonnage. She stiffened in shock. *Goodness, what a filthy child. Be off this instance.'

Nervously, Eppie crunched her grime-hardened frock, lost for words.

*His lordship does not behold with giving charity to rapscallions. Go, or I will have the footmen set the dogs on you.'

Eppie lived in fear of du Quesne's mastiffs, and was about to run home.

Rubber wheels screeched upon the polished floor. *Thank you, that will be all, Mrs Bellows,' said Lady Constance du Quesne. *You may leave this to me.'

Eppie gaped in trepidation at the lady, making her face grubbier by rubbing tears into her cheeks. The convertible chair in which her ladyship sat had a reclining back and adjustable footrests, two large wheels at the sides and a smaller one behind. She was adorned in the finest black silk, her bodice fashioned in a crossover manner, her skirts trimmed with elaborate pleats. Notable amongst her attire was a black mourning cap, a black velvet ribbon choker with a tiny brooch inset illustrating a lily, and long black mitts with drawstring cuffs.

Lady Constance addressed a tall, good-looking liveried footman, *Duncan, is that you there?' Though he stood only a short distance away, beside a tall palm that dominated the corner of the vestibule, she appeared unable to recognise him with certainty. *My room feels like a Siberian winter. Arrange further supplies of coal immediately.' She rapped a wheel of her chair with her walking stick. *Come close, child. My son has informed me of your arrival.'

To appear presentable, Eppie prodded her smudged bonnet into shape and thrust it upon her head.

Agnes had the task of pushing her ladyship in her invalid-chair. *If you'll take my advice, your ladyship, I would not let this girl near you. She is heavily soiled.'

A hint of consternation was evident in Constance's voice. *That is something my son failed to divulge.'

Eppie plucked up courage. *Please, I'd like to see my mam.'

*Impossible,' Constance replied. *The doctor is with her. Molly, see to this child's ablutions.'

*'er what, ma'am?'

*Wash her.' On impulse, Constance added, *Inform Hannah that Miss Dunham will be joining Gabriel and I for refreshments.'

*Your husband would be most displeased to learn of you providing tea for one of his villagers,' Agnes advised.

*I shall amuse myself in any manner that appeals to me,' Constance answered dismissively.

Eppie felt a surge of warmth and familiarity towards this gentle woman. Her former beauty could be discerned in her graceful composure and flawless pink cheeks. From beneath her black mobcap poked wisps of brittle blonde hair. That she suffered from some malady was evident. Sunken in shrouded sockets, the light of her eyes was dimmed like glazed sapphires.

Lady Constance drifted into a state of reverie. *Only yesterday it seems was I brought to bed of a daughter, Genevieve.' Eppie gazed at the lady, awestruck. *She was a sister for Gabriel, to make up for the loss of my darling Talia.' Approaching footsteps broke her sombre thoughts. Although Molly only carried one cloth with which to dry Eppie after her wash, Lady Constance said, *Ah, here is the girl, with a great bale of linen it would seem.'

Molly curtseyed. *I've been below stairs, m'am, and set about boiling a cauldron of water to chuck Miss Eppie in.'

*You make it sound as though the child were a lobster. No doubt, if you hunt around, you will find some garment suitable for Miss Dunham. Agnes, I will take in a little air.'

*You had an alarming cramp in your hand earlier,' Agnes objected. *You would be well advised to rest.'

*Do not question my orders! Garden!'

Eppie followed Molly down a long corridor, off which ran servants rooms, including a stillroom and scullery.

Stepping into the kitchen, she was overwhelmed by its immensity. It looked as if it had been built for a giant. The windows appeared the height of the Town Hall in Litcombe. Several pies, which seemed the size of the circle seat around the mulberry tree, were laid upon a table that had drawers as big as coffins. Upon numerous shelves were rows of copper pans. Spoons longer than Eppie's arms hung from a rack.

She gazed sorrowfully at a turnspit dog, padding slowly in a wheel set within the inglenook fireplace. In a basket close by slept another dog, which she imagined would take over when the other one became too tired to walk any more.

*Turnips ain't turning the meat proper,' Molly said. *I wonder where Hannah's got. I'd better warn her.'

Approaching the Elizabethan staircase, they heard a babble of high-pitched female voices coming from the first floor, each person speaking over the other in a confused and troubled fashion.

Cloths laid upon the staircase were specked with coal dust. They leapt up the stairs and raced along the corridor.

*What's going on?' Molly asked as she and Eppie entered Robert du Quesne's study.

A huddle of boys, clutching soot-scrapers, stood before the hearth.

*A climbing-boy's stuck up the chimney,' answered Kizzie, the fair-faced, bright-eyed stillroom maid. *Up there's a maze of tunnels. It seems the lad tried to get away from the smoke by climbing along the ducts.'

Hannah folded her arms across her ample chest. *Normally, we have Jack Clavelle, a master chimney sweep. His lordship insists on a professional service. This querier,' she spoke disparagingly of a man who stood with his head up the chimney, listening to the plaintive cries of the child, *isn't a proper master. He roams around town ringing a bell or calling on houses in the countryside. He happened to come a-knocking after that jackdaw fell down her ladyship's chimney. Seeing as his lordship isn't here to complain, I saw no reason not to ask the man in. Now I regret it.'

*There's scraps of pot littered about the hearth,' the chimney sweep said.

At the memory of that voice, a shudder of remembrance of the spoon-hanging boy swept through Eppie.

Gilbert Crowe ground his heel into shattered pot in the hearth. *The gases from the coal have destroyed the lime mortar around yer chimney. The pot must've fallen away when the lad took hold of it.'

Leather-bound books were meticulously arranged like wheel spokes upon a round mahogany table. A bell jar containing a great-horned owl stood in the centre of the table. A dormouse dangled from its beak.

Pegged onto a wall behind the table was the skin and snarling head of a brown bear.

Lured by the bizarre spectacle of the animals, Eppie wandered around the room. She recognised the beaver, pelican, tarantula and moonfish from the sketches in Gabriel's books. The crocodile looked awkward, walking upright on its back legs.

Many creatures she had never seen. A huge white and grey bird with a hooked beak was labelled Mollymawk. Beside an assorted collection of snakes, frogs which floated in jars, parrots, and other exotic birds, was a grey-green spotted pike longer than the parlour table. It had to be the fish that Wakelin caught in Lynmere. Martha had spoken of it often. In its lower jaw it had large, sharp teeth, whilst in its upper jaw were hundreds of smaller teeth that pointed backwards to stop its prey escaping.

*Awful, aren't they,' Kizzie said. *Some were shot by his lordship on his hunting expeditions. Most of them he gets from sea explorers. A leather upholsterer stuffs them with rags and cotton.'

*What's this?' Eppie asked, spying a strange metal helmet.

*A scold's bridle. I reckon his lordship keeps it as a warning to her ladyship not to go spreading wicked clack about him. It don't discourage her, though.'

*Is there some trouble here?' Gabriel asked, looking in.

Eppie drew her eyes away from a sea-fish, its beak prolonged into a sword-like weapon.

Molly apologised to Gabriel, *When I lit the fire in your mother's chamber, I had no idea that a climbing-boy was up her ladyship's flue. Duncan made things worse by throwing on extra scuttles of coal.'

Whilst staying with Mr Grimley, Gabriel had heard from Priscilla, the housekeeper, that they could only afford to keep on one maid. Seeing as Molly hailed from Little Lubbock, Mr Grimley had recommended her to Mrs Bellows.

Mrs Bellows stomped along the passage. *Master Gabriel has only been here a short while and already his room is in frightful disarray. Oh, sorry, sir, I didn't realise you were in here.'

*Mr Crowe,' the boy cried. *Help! I think me arm's broke!'

Crowe gripped the white marble mantelpiece with his coal-blackened hands and roared up the chimney, *Throw yersen down this minute, else I'll break all the bones in your body.'

A climbing-boy, who shouldered a soot sack, offered, *I'll see if I can fetch *im down.'

*He ain't worth the risk,' Crowe answered. *I can see a scythe rammed up the chimney.'

*Put there by past generations as an offering to protect the house from witchcraft,' Mrs Bellows said.

*You don't mean to leave the boy up there?' Eppie asked as Crowe made to quit the study, soot drifting to the floor from his turk's head brush.

Gabriel knew Eppie was right. *We can't abandon him. I've a fear of heights, though I suppose I could try and climb up.'

*I do not think that is a sensible idea, Master Gabriel,' Mrs Bellows interjected.

*Do what ya like,' Crowe growled. *The lads and me ain't hanging about. After all this trouble I don't care to bump into his lordship. He's a tyrant, from what I've heard in town.'

*Come, Megan,' Hannah said, ushering the kitchen maid out of the study. *His lordship's venison will be done to a cinder if we don't look sharp.'

Mrs Bellows followed them. *Back to your chores the rest of you girls.'

Eppie peered up the chimney, her head a little to one side, straining to hear. It was so dark that she could see nothing. *He's gone very quiet. I hope he's all right. I'll see if I can get up.'

*You?' Gabriel looked staggered, but also guiltily relieved.

*A bit more muck on me won't make much difference. Though I hope I don't fall and flay myself on that scythe.'

Levering herself up with her knees and elbows she ascended slowly and painfully. The higher she climbed the more the haze of smoke caused her to wheeze. At one point it was such a squeeze that she became stuck and was terrified she would be up there forever. Reaching into a void, she gripped the boy's ankle. The smoke in the ducts was thickening, making her splutter helplessly. She shook the child, terrified that it was too late, that he was already dead. *Wake up. If you don't get out of here, you'll die.'

Groggily, the boy came to.

*We've no time to waste.'

*But my arm hurts.'

*This is your only chance. Lean on me. Shuffle down as best you can, using your bottom and feet.'

Tumbling into the hearth, Eppie cushioned the boy's fall.

Leaden steps were heard approaching, accompanied by the sound of a man making a gagging noise in his throat. Mr Crowe!

Feigning innocence, Eppie, Gabriel and Molly stood in a row before the desk, beneath which the climbing-boy crouched.

Smuts of soot puffed from Eppie's loose hair into her eyes, impairing her vision. *I tried.' She squinted at Crowe's filthy face. *I got halfway. The smoke was so thick that I couldn't breathe. The lad's dead for sure.'

*He weren't no use to me with broken bones, no how. Let her ladyship finish roasting him. Granted he's scrawny, but she'll get some crackling off him.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.