Penny nodded thoughtfully. “Were the grounds here really soaked with blood, back in the days of sacrifice? We were told the earth around the well was full of old bones.”

  “I doubt it,” said Catherine. “The old storytellers would add whatever juicy details they thought would attract an audience. But the past is full of mysteries. Particularly at Glenbury Hall.”

  “What’s your opinion of the well?” I said.

  “Some say the original Glenburys were called to this location by some unknown voice,” Catherine said carefully. “And that the family built first the well, and then the Hall, to protect whatever it was that summoned them. In return for wealth and power, of course.”

  “Which apparently ran out some time back,” I said.

  “Nothing lasts forever,” said Catherine.

  I leaned over the side of the well and peered down into a darkness so complete it defied even my eyes.

  “Why does it go down so deep?”

  “There are lots of stories about that,” said Catherine. “But really, nobody knows.”

  “Could Lord Ravensbrook be down there?” I said. “It would be the perfect place to dispose of a body.”

  “You’re not the first to suggest that,” said Catherine. “But how could anyone have dumped a body in there without being seen by the servants in the grounds?”

  “Servants might deny seeing anything, if they were paid or frightened enough,” said Penny.

  “Did anyone ever try to reach the bottom of the well to search for the missing lord?” I said.

  Catherine nodded quickly. “Various attempts were made to plumb its depths, particularly when someone started a rumour about hidden treasure, but they all failed. Tunnels and earthworks constantly collapsed, killing the workmen. Waters from the spring would rise up and flood the diggings. And after a while, that was the end of that.”

  “But surely, these days...” said Penny.

  “The well is unbelievably deep,” Catherine said flatly. “I’m not sure the bottom could be reached even now, with modern digging equipment.”

  “Someone could always climb down,” I said. “Or if the walls are tricky, they could be dropped in on the end of a rope.”

  “It’s been tried,” said Catherine. “After Ravensbrook disappeared, one of the Hall’s servants was lowered headfirst into the well by a rope tied around his ankles. The Glenburys knew it had to be done before the king sent agents to do it for them. If only to make sure Ravensbrook definitely was dead, and no longer a threat.

  “According to contemporary reports, the people at the top of the well became disturbed by how much rope they were having to play out, as their reluctant explorer descended further and further into the darkness. Suddenly the man started screaming to be pulled up, and when he was finally brought back into the light his hair was white, and his eyes were wild and staring. He kept babbling about the dark and the water, and the dark in the water....No promise of money or threats or violence could persuade him to go back down again. Or anyone else, after that.”

  “And of course once that story got around, the king’s agents wouldn’t be able to persuade anyone else to go down,” I said.

  “You think the Glenburys faked the story?” said Penny. “To scare off future investigations?”

  “I do seem to be spotting a pattern,” I said. “When you get right down to it, all of these stories serve the Glenburys by scaring off their enemies and preserving their privacy.”

  “Sometimes there really is something to be scared of in the dark,” said Catherine. “Local legend has it the well goes down as far as it does, because it has its roots in Hell.”

  “And we’re back to the Devil again,” I said. “How much of this stuff do you really believe?”

  She smiled suddenly. “I like to believe six impossible things before tea-time, every day. It makes the world so much more interesting.”

  “But you’re an historian,” I said. “Isn’t that all about the facts?”

  “I am large,” Catherine said grandly. “I contain multitudes. Some of whom aren’t speaking to each other.”

  “If this well is so deep,” said Penny, “how is Marion planning to retrieve the money the visitors drop into it?”

  “I don’t think she’s really thought it through, dear,” said Catherine.

  And then she paused and leaned in close, so she could speak confidentially. Even though there was no one else around.

  “I came here once, to pay the Hall a visit while it was empty. I live not far away these days, over in Marshford, and I thought someone should take a look. But one visit was enough to convince me this wasn’t the Hall I remembered. It felt as though the house wasn’t entirely empty, and that something was looking back at me. I couldn’t get out of the grounds fast enough.”

  “Does Arthur know you were here?” I said.

  Catherine shook her head. “I thought it best not to bother him. Afterwards, I paid a visit to The Smugglers Retreat. Because I really needed a drink. Everyone there was still scared of the Hall, even though it was empty. In fact, the general feeling seemed to be that the Hall might actually be more dangerous without a Glenbury in residence to keep it in check.”

  “Thank you for your assistance,” I said. “You can go back inside now.”

  Catherine looked a little shocked, at being dismissed so abruptly. “But there’s so much more I could tell you...”

  “You’ve given us more than enough to be going on with,” I said. “But now, Penny and I need to make a thorough search of the grounds.”

  Catherine gave me a searching look, to make sure I was serious, and then nodded briskly.

  “Very well, dear. I’ll go and wait by the front door. Just in case you need to ask me some more questions.”

  She turned her back on us with quiet dignity and headed for the front door. Penny and I started our search in front of the Hall, moving slowly along together and studying the ground carefully.

  “I’m not seeing any signs of digging,” I said. “Nothing to indicate a recent burial.”

  “Have you given up on finding Lucas Carr alive?” said Penny.

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “But it is something we should consider.”

  “Someone in the Hall would have noticed a grave being dug,” said Penny. “Unless you think everyone here is lying to us.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” I said.

  “But what possible motive could any of them have, for wanting to kill Lucas?” said Penny. “They’d never met him before today.”

  “So they say.”

  “But that brings us back to: why would they lie?”

  I grinned. “Does complicate things, doesn’t it?”

  And then I stopped, as something caught my eye. I knelt down and ran my hands across one particular piece of ground. I could just make out a shallow depression, as though something heavy had been set down there recently.

  “The grass here is flattened, and the earth feels compacted,” I said. “Like something hit the ground, hard. Possibly something that fell from a great height.”

  I got to my feet again, and we both looked up at the roof. The grotesque faces stared back at us, giving nothing away.

  “I’m not seeing any obvious gaps in the guttering,” said Penny. “Nothing to suggest a missing gargoyle. There’s no sign of any crumbling masonry that might have fallen. And again, I think people would have noticed.”

  “We’ll have to ask Arthur how best to gain access to the roof,” I said. “See if anything up there is damaged or missing.”

  “And look for clues?” Penny said hopefully. “You know how I love clues.”

  “A few would be helpful.”

  “What exactly would we be looking for?”

  “I think we’d know it when we saw it.”

  Penny and I resumed our search of the grounds. We moved steadily back and forth checking the lawn, the statues, and every shaped tree in the topiary walls. It took some time, and the last of the evening light was wearing out by the time we gave up.

  “These statues are starting to look increasingly sinister,” said Penny. “It’s the way they don’t have any eyes to follow you around. Are you getting the feeling that they’re crowding in around us...”

  “No,” I said firmly. “None of these statues have moved an inch. I memorised all their positions when we first entered the grounds.”

  Penny looked at me. “You memorised them.”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Self defence.”

  Penny shook her head. “Alien.”

  We walked back through the statues. Lights from a few of the ground-floor windows spilled out into the grounds, pushing back the gloom. Catherine was still waiting patiently by the front door, even though the evening had acquired a definite chill. She’d taken some knitting out of her carpet bag and was working industriously at something long and shapeless. She put it away as we approached.

  “Find anything interesting, dears?”

  “How well do you know Arthur?” I said bluntly.

  “I was a close friend of his parents,” said Catherine, entirely unaffected by my tone. “Paul and Mary were always great fun to be with, but they should never have had a child. They weren’t suited to be parents. But they saw it as their duty to continue the line, the house of Glenbury.”

  “Does Arthur have any brothers, or sisters?” I said.

  “Oh no, dear,” said Catherine. “Paul and Mary decided very quickly that one child was enough. They were away a lot when Arthur was growing up, leaving the poor lamb to be taken care of by the servants.”

  “If his parents didn’t want to look after him, why didn’t they send him off to boarding school?” said Penny.

  Catherine looked at her. “Is that what your parents did with you, dear?”

  “We’re not talking about me,” said Penny.

  Catherine shrugged. “Money was getting short by then, so Arthur was home-schooled by a series of inexpensive tutors. None of whom stuck around long. Arthur told me he was so lonely he tried sneaking out of the Hall and into town, hoping to make friends, only to find no one wanted anything to do with a Glenbury.”

  I studied her carefully. “Marion said Arthur’s parents mistreated him.”

  “Oh, they did, dear,” said Catherine. “But more through neglect and indifference, than anything else.”

  “They sound awful,” said Penny. “Why were you their friend?”

  “They weren’t awful, dear!” said Catherine. “Just so wrapped up in each other, they had no time for a child’s needs. Paul and Mary were very good company, back when we were young. Oh, the parties they used to throw! People would turn up from all over the county. You have to remember, the seventies was a very liberated time. Leave your clothes and inhibitions at the door and let the good times roll! I remember bowls full of car keys and condoms...” She laughed softly at the look on our faces. “You young people think you invented debauchery.”

  “Did Arthur know what was going on, at these parties?” said Penny.

  “Once he got to a certain age, there was no hiding it from him,” said Catherine. “Paul and Mary had to start holding their little get-togethers in other people’s houses, and there’s no denying they resented that. That’s why they spent so much of their time away from the Hall, leaving the boy to his own devices.”

  “But he had you for company,” I said.

  “When I was around.”

  “When you weren’t at the parties,” said Penny.

  “Well, quite,” Catherine said. “I was his aunt, not his nanny.”

  I didn’t have anything to say to that, so I led the way back inside Glenbury Hall.

  The lobby was brightly lit, but there was no sign of Arthur or his family. Catherine smiled wistfully around her.

  “It is good to be back. I always felt at home here.”

  “Really?” I said. “Isn’t that a bit odd, given how much the Hall freaks out everyone else?”

  She shrugged amiably. “Perhaps it’s because I always had such good times here.”

  “Can you show us around the ground floor?” I said.

  “Of course, dear,” said Catherine. “What would you like to see?”

  “You’re the expert,” I said. “Show us things we need to know.”

  Catherine grinned. “Just follow your native guide and pin your ears back.”

  She led us down a long gloomy corridor, pointing out one room after another. Most of the doors had been left standing ajar, as though inviting us to see for ourselves that nothing out of the ordinary was going on. The rooms held nothing but pieces of bulky furniture lurking under heavy dust sheets. Walls and floors had been left bare, and the floorboards creaked loudly under our weight, as though complaining at our presence.

  “Arthur and Marion could only afford to renovate a few of the rooms,” said Catherine, “so they concentrated on sprucing up the ones they thought the Historical Society would appreciate most. The Hall has fallen such a long way...It used to be so bright and cheerful here! So full of life! I remember running naked down this corridor with my friends, screaming with laughter, off our heads on the best wines and the best dope...It felt like the party would never end.

  “But of course it had to, eventually. A lot of the family treasures had already been sold off, to fund Paul and Mary’s lifestyle.”

  “Why was that?” said Penny.

  “The family fortunes were finally running out,” said Catherine. “They had no talent or skill for making more, and of course no one would lend to Glenburys.”

  “There’s always someone,” I said.

  “But Paul and Mary would never mortgage the Hall,” said Catherine. “Or take on any debt that would threaten it. So bit by bit, all the pretty things vanished, and as the settings got shabbier, so did the parties.”

  She pushed the thought firmly to one side and brightened up as she filled us in on the history of the house, and its family. She also seemed to have an endless supply of strange sightings and weird happenings. Of rooms that were sometimes there and sometimes not, and windows that occasionally showed views from the past.

  “Like the timeslip?” said Penny.

  “Exactly, dear. Time comes and goes, around Glenbury Hall. I sometimes think the family did something to break it.”

  Like the barman in The Smugglers Retreat, Catherine’s ghost stories didn’t involve the usual see-through ancestors, or animated suits of armour. Instead, she told subtler tales of people who looked into mirrors and saw someone else looking back at them. Of corridors that seemed to stretch away farther than they should, and guests who got the feeling there were more people in a room than they could account for. Dim figures seen walking the corridors at night, with horrid faces or none at all, and never making the slightest sound on the bare wooden floorboards.

  “Some are supposed to be past members of the Glenbury family,” said Catherine. “Walking these corridors because the sins they committed were so terrible, they’re condemned to haunt the scenes of their crimes forever.”

  “The barman at The Smugglers Retreat mentioned one apparition that couldn’t even walk,” I said. “He said: It crawls...”

  “Ah yes!” said Catherine, nodding enthusiastically. “One of the Hall’s most notorious legends. Lots of people claim to have seen a terrible figure crawling along on all fours...”

  “Why does it do that?” said Penny.

  “Shape-changing was just one of the charges laid against the family,” said Catherine. “And according to some accounts, this particular Glenbury hasn’t lost his taste for human flesh just because he’s dead.”

  “A ghost with an appetite?” I said. “Does he bring his own ghostly knife and fork?”

  Catherine looked at me reprovingly. “The dead aren’t just visions, in Glenbury Hall. The past has a strength all its own, that will not be denied. The dead can be a danger to the living, in this house.”

  “Was everybody in the Glenbury family mad or weird or evil?” said Penny.

  “Pretty much,” said Catherine. “They were very competitive.”

  “Mad, bad, and dangerous to encounter in the early hours,” I said. “Apart from your good friends Paul and Mary. And Arthur, of course.”

  Catherine peered into the shadows of the corridor before us, so she wouldn’t have to meet my gaze.

  “Even inherited evil can wear out, if it passes through enough generations.”

  “But not the ghosts,” said Penny. “They’re still here.”

  “And yet Marion insisted that she’s never seen anything weird, in all the time she’s been here,” I said.

  Catherine sniffed loudly. “I’m not surprised. Some people are just blind to the hidden world. A ghost could walk right up to Marion and stare her in the face, and she wouldn’t even know it was there.”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of that,” said Penny. “If something ghostly was happening to me, up close and personal, I’m pretty sure I’d want to know about it.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” said Catherine. “There are horrors and atrocities in this house that no one would want to see.”

  “You’re being vague again,” I said. “We need details.”

  “I don’t think you do, dear,” said Catherine. “Not really.”

  “It would take a lot to throw me,” I said. “I’ve seen more than my share of bad things.”

  “It’s true!” said Penny. “He really has. I was there with him, for some of them.”

  Catherine looked into our faces and nodded slowly. “I did get the feeling this wasn’t your first supernatural rodeo. Very well...There are supposed to be things in this house that started out as people, but weren’t at all human by the time they died. Or were put an end to. Certain members of the Glenbury family were said to have mated with things called up from the Pit, and only the offspring that could pass for human were allowed to survive.”

  “Really?” said Penny.

  “The Glenburys were accused of every sin under the sun, and some that could only be committed in the dark,” said Catherine. “And the worse the stories were, the more the Glenburys seemed to glory in them. They took a perverse pride in never denying anything.”

 

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