The Midnight Peacock. Katherine Woodfine

a little squeak of alarm. ‘Golly, Sophie – just look at the time! We ought to go, or we’ll be dreadfully late.’

      ‘Late? Where are you off to in such a rush?’ said Joe, as the two girls hustled into their coats and hats.

      ‘Oh – only our Sewing Society.’

      Billy dropped the letter. ‘Sewing Society!’ he exclaimed in a disgusted tone. He had made it quite clear that he couldn’t imagine why Sophie and Lil would waste their evenings, sitting around with a lot of girls, fussing over silly bits of stitching, when they could be doing something really interesting – like working on new cases, or at the least reading an exciting detective story, like one of his favourite Montgomery Baxter tales.

      ‘Whatever you may think, it’s jolly important,’ said Lil primly. ‘We’re helping Connie and the suffragettes. And as a matter of fact, you might find it more interesting than you’d think.’ She smirked slightly at Sophie as she said this, then, in a different tone of voice, she went on: ‘You two wouldn’t mind just quickly tidying away these tea things before you go, would you? We have to dash, and I know it’s important to keep the office tidy and smart and all that sort of thing. Oh, I say, thanks awfully.’

      With that, she sailed out of the door. Sophie grinned at the two boys, and then followed behind her.

      Billy and Joe exchanged glances over the mess of tea things they had left behind them.

      ‘Typical,’ muttered Billy, shaking his head. ‘That’s just absolutely typical.’

      Far from London, the snow was also falling on Winter Hall. When Tilly peeped out into the dark, she could see that the flakes were coming down thick and fast. She let the curtain fall back across her bedroom window, and scrambled gladly into bed under the weight of the heavy blankets.

      Her room was at the top of the house and was almost always cold, especially at this time of year. It was a very plain room, like all the maids’ bedrooms: simply furnished with two little beds, a chest of drawers, and a washstand. She shared with Sarah; under-housemaids and scullery maids were not considered important enough to have rooms to themselves. Now, she could hear the heavy sound of Sarah’s breathing in the next bed: she was already fast asleep after a long day of scrubbing and washing in the scullery. Tilly didn’t mind that; some nights she felt like talking, but tonight she wanted to think. She snuggled down under the covers, tucking her cold feet up underneath her, and thought back to that moment in the East Wing when her candle had snuffed out, and she’d been plunged into darkness.

      She admitted it to herself now: she had been frightened out of her life when that awful shadow had reached out towards her. She had even screamed – thank goodness no one had been around to hear her! But she’d managed to get up and scramble away, back down the passage. She hadn’t dared stop to catch her breath until she was back in the dazzling light of the hallway, with the door to the East Wing closed firmly behind her. She hadn’t even had the nerve to take a peep and see if that dark shape – whatever it was – had tried to follow her. Instead, she’d walked back as swiftly as she could to the servants’ quarters, trying to look cool and calm when a footman came by with the coffee tray for the Drawing Room.

      Of course, she hadn’t breathed so much as a word about what had happened to the others. She knew that Lizzie would crow over her about it for weeks if she did. Besides, she felt quite sure now that whatever it was she had seen, it must have a rational explanation. She knew there were no such things as ghosts – and that meant she had seen a person, someone who was trying to frighten her.

      Strolling back into the Servants’ Hall as though nothing unusual had happened, she’d carelessly tossed the duster over in Lizzie’s direction – but it didn’t have at all the effect she had expected. In fact, the other housemaid paid her no attention whatsoever. William, His Lordship’s valet, had come in with news about the Christmas house party, and everyone was gathered round him, hanging on to his every word. Christmas at Winter Hall was always a grand affair, and the servants were all eager to know who would be attending this year.

      As Tilly joined the little circle, she saw that Charlie, the under-footman was there, and she stared at him through narrowed eyes. There was no doubt that frightening the life out of her and Lizzie was exactly the sort of idiotic thing he’d find hilarious. But if he’d been pretending to be a ghost in the East Wing five minutes ago, however had he managed to get back below stairs before her? At that moment, Charlie caught her staring and gave her a cheeky wink. What was that supposed to mean, she wondered indignantly? Was it meant to be some kind of acknowledgement of what he had done?

      ‘It’s such a shame that Miss Helen won’t be joining us for Christmas,’ Lizzie was saying.

      ‘She’s Mrs Godwin now,’ William corrected her. ‘And of course, she’ll be spending Christmas with her husband and children. That’s quite right and proper. But Mr Vincent is here – and Miss Leonora will be coming home from Town tomorrow.’

      Miss Leo! Tilly forgot all about the ghost for a second, as her stomach gave an excited flip of gladness. It would be wonderful to have Miss Leo home again.

      ‘Also arriving tomorrow is the Countess of Alconborough, and with her, the Whiteley family – Mr Charles Whiteley, Mrs Isabel Whiteley and Miss Veronica Whiteley,’ announced William importantly. There was an interested murmur at this. The Dowager Countess of Alconborough was a familiar face at Winter Hall – but the Whiteley family were new.

      ‘That’s three ladies’ maids, then – and likely a valet too, for the gentleman,’ said Emma, the head housemaid, whose mind ran on very practical lines. ‘Who are they, these Whiteleys?’

      ‘Mr Whiteley is in the mining business,’ went on William, his tone making it evident that business was to be considered a little coarse and improper. ‘Mrs Whiteley is his second wife – and before she married, she was Miss Isabel Hampton-Lacey, of the Staffordshire Hampton-Laceys.’

      They all nodded approvingly at this. Knowing the ins and outs of all the society families was an important part of working at Winter Hall: Mrs Dawes’ copy of Debrett’s was even more well-thumbed than Her Ladyship’s own.

      ‘Miss Veronica is his daughter from his first marriage,’ William explained. ‘She is about Miss Leonora’s age – or perhaps a little older – and she made her debut this summer. I believe she is a very pretty young lady, with a large fortune.’

      Lizzie pounced on this at once: ‘I’ll bet you they’re thinking about a match for Mr Vincent!’

      ‘Surely they’ll not be thinking of marrying him off just yet, poor fellow,’ said Charlie.

      Ella giggled. ‘Ooh – I wish they’d marry him off to me!’ she exclaimed. ‘I think Mr Vincent is ever so handsome!’

      Ma came bustling in from the kitchen, just in time to overhear this last remark. ‘That’s quite enough of that sort of thing,’ she said at once. ‘Mrs Dawes would have your guts for garters if she heard you talking like that, miss – and well you know it. Besides, we’ve got plenty to do without standing around gossiping. William, you’d better finish clearing the Dining Room – and Sarah, there’s a stack of washing-up waiting for you in the scullery. Give her a hand with the drying, will you, Tilly love? I don’t want butterfingers here breaking His Lordship’s best brandy glasses.’ But she patted Sarah gently on the shoulder as she said it: Ma’s bark was generally much worse than her bite.

      Tilly followed Sarah through into the kitchen, rather glad to have an excuse to get away and think. But as she carefully dried the glasses and put them away in their proper place, all she felt sure of was that the apparition in the passageway couldn’t possibly have been a prank of Charlie’s. He was only a lad – he might be tall, but he was too much like a beanpole to have been that big threatening figure, with its heavy plodding footsteps. Besides, he’d never have been able to beat her back to the Servants’ Hall.

      Now, as she lay in bed, she decided three things. First of all, she would go back to the East Wing tomorrow morning, and have a good look