Goth Girl and the Wuthering Fright Read online

  38

  a talented singer in possession of a good voice must be in want of a musical production,’ Fancyday recited from the first page of her book, before closing the book with a flourish and tossing it on to the Dalmatian divan. ‘It’s all about Elizabeth Bonnett, a simple country girl with a song in her heart who meets a dashing

  39

  dancing master, Mr Darcy-Bussell.’ Fancyday waltzed around the dressing room, using one of Ada’s frocks as an imaginary partner. When she reached the door she gave a little gasp and dropped the frock on the floor. ‘I almost forgot!’ she exclaimed. ‘Quire practice tonight! I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Ada!’ Fancyday danced out of the dressing room, across the bedroom and out of the door, narrowly avoiding Ruby the outer-pantry maid, who was coming in. Ruby was holding a tray with Ada’s supper on it. She looked wide-eyed and anxious. ‘If you don’t mind, Ada,’ she said, ‘I’ll put this down here by the fire and get back to the pantry

  40

  before those ghostly ladies appear.’ ‘The two Tudor Annes?’ said Ada. ‘I heard they died after an argument over cricket. One hit the other over the head with a bat and then slipped on a ball and fell down the stairs. I’m not sure which was which, but I’ll try to find out.’ ‘If you do, you can tell us at the next meeting of the Attic Club,’ said Ruby hastily, putting the tray on the more-than-occasional table and hurrying from the room. A moment later Ada heard a little scream and the sound of Ruby’s footsteps clattering down the stairs as the two

  41

  Tudor Annes called, ‘Howzat!’ after her in ghostly voices. The Attic Club met once a week in secret in the attics of Ghastly-Gorm Hall to share observations and discoveries. Emily and William Cabbage had founded the club and Ada and Ruby were members, along with Arthur Halford the hobby-horse groom and Kingsley the chimney caretaker. They wrote down their findings in The Chimney Pot – Journal of the Attic Club. Ruby was very shy and the ghosts of Ghastly-Gorm Hall scared her, but she was brave in other ways, not least in working for Mrs Beat’em the cook, who shouted at her kitchen maids and often made them cry. Ada finished tidying up after her lady’s maid and sat down in front of the fire for supper. Mrs Beat’em’s roast beef and Ghastlyshire pudding was delicious and her burbleberry syllabub was perfect. Outside the snow was still falling and Ada hoped it wouldn’t be too deep for Fancyday’s donkey and trap.

  42

  This cold weather was a nuisance for some, thought Ada, but it made Ghastly-Gorm look rather beautiful and it was almost Christmas after all. She gave a little shiver of excitement. Tomorrow she would see Emily and hear all about school. When Ada had eaten her supper she went into her dressing room and opened the wardrobe. She rummaged around inside and pulled out a bag of wool her French governess, Marianne Delacroix, had given her, and two knitting needles. *

  43

  45

  That evening and most of the next day Ada sat in her bedroom in front of the fire, knitting. The only sounds were the crackle of the logs on the fire and the clickety-click of the ‘lefarge’ knitting needles. A small boy had arrived mid-morning with a note from Fancyday telling Ada that her donkey was refusing to leave his stable so she wouldn’t be coming to work today. That was just as well, thought Ada, because she was too busy to tidy up after her. As the great-uncle clock struck three, Ada put down the knitting needles and set off for the Chinese drawing room.

  46

  47

  When she arrived, Ada found Dr Cabbage and the three library monkeys waiting for her. ‘There you are, Miss Goth!’ exclaimed Charles Cabbage. He was a little out of breath because he’d been spinning his hooligan hoop. William, Heath and Robinson each had small hoops of their own and were busy spinning them around their middles. ‘It keeps them warm,’ explained Dr Cabbage. ‘I hope these will keep them even warmer,’ said Ada, holding up the three suits she’d knitted. ‘I also had time to make them some Gothkerchiefs just like my father’s,’ she added, handing out the clothes. The monkeys seemed delighted, even though, when they tried them on, the suits were a little too big. She helped them tie their Gothkerchiefs and stood back to admire the result . . .

  49

  50

  ‘Excellent!’ declared Dr Cabbage. ‘You must wrap up warm yourself, Miss Goth.’ ‘I must?’ said Ada. ‘Yes.’ Dr Cabbage smiled. ‘If you want to come with us to meet the Ghastlyshire mail coach. Emily and William are coming home today and, what’s more, we have to pick up the entrants of the literary dog show!’

  51

  Chapter Four he five of them set off for the little hamlet of Gormless in Charles Cabbage’s ‘Difference Engine’. It was a steam-driven traction engine with a shovel-shaped seat and a steering wheel at the front and a tall funnel at the back. The Difference Engine was quite slow and noisy but had no difficulty ploughing through the snow as it trundled down the drive and out of the gates. ‘Hold on tight!’ shouted Dr Cabbage as he turned the steering wheel furiously. Next to him, Ada gathered her cape around her shoulders and grasped the handrail as the Difference Engine began very, very slowly to turn. Dr Cabbage energetically turned the steering wheel back again, breathing heavily, as they inched around the corner.

  53

  ‘We weathered that one!’ Dr Cabbage said delightedly as the engine slowly straightened its course. Smoke belched out of the funnel, and steam hissed inside the boiler as they chugged slowly down the country lane. ‘Faster than a flying goose!’ laughed Dr Cabbage, gripping the steering wheel. ‘I feel the need,’ he chuckled as the engine trundled on, ‘the need for speed!’ An hour later they arrived at the little hamlet of Gormless. Even in the snow it would have taken half that time on foot, but Ada didn’t want to hurt Charles Cabbage’s feelings by saying anything. Besides, the shovel-shaped seat was very comfortable and the warmth from the boiler was lovely. Beside her, William, Heath and Robinson had curled up in the folds of her cape and fallen asleep. As they arrived in Gormless, Ada heard music. Standing outside their cottages, the inhabitants of Gormless were listening to the village band, who were lined up beside the duck pond, which

  54

  was frozen solid. The Ambridge sisters were singing a traditional song called ‘Galumphing Grizelda’ while the parson of Gormless St Hilda’s, Dean Torville, skated around and around the pond on one leg. It all looked like a lot of fun. ‘Prepare yourselves!’ shouted Dr Cabbage, tugging on a large brake lever with all his might. The Difference Engine came to an extremely slow halt. ‘Phew!’ exclaimed Dr Cabbage, pulling out a spotted handkerchief and mopping his face. ‘That was a close call!’

  55

  They had come to a stop in front of a large, rather run-down building with lots of windows and doors. In front of it, a post with a sign hanging from it read: Ada woke the monkeys, and just as she was climbing down from the Difference Engine a large stagecoach pulled by six horses thundered over the top of the hill. It was packed inside and out with passengers, sitting on each other’s laps, grasping their luggage and hats and holding

  56

  on to handrails and hanging straps for all they were worth. Three coachmen in tall top hats sat up front, blowing long coaching horns which drowned out the sound of the Gormless Quire by the duck pond and clearly distracted Dean Torville who skidded across the ice and ploughed head first into a snow bank. The stagecoach swerved past the sign and came to a skidding halt in front of the coaching inn. The doors of the inn flew open and the yard filled with stable

  58

  boys, who began unhitching the horses while the passengers climbed down from the coach. Over the shouts of the stable hands and the chatter of the passengers Ada could hear excited barking and yapping. She walked around the back of the coach and saw it was pulling a trailer. The trailer had five compartments and sitting in each one, wagging its tail and barking, was a different dog, each with a name tag attached to its collar. ‘Flossie . . . Ivanhoe . . . Emma . . . Boodles . . . Carlo,’ Ada read. ‘Ada!’ At the sound of her name being called, Ada looked round to
see Emily Cabbage making

  59

  crowded yard towards her. Dr Cabbage and the monkeys were following. ‘Emily!’ Ada exclaimed and threw her arms around her friend. ‘It’s so good to see you!’ ‘It’s lovely to see you too, Ada,’ said Emily, hugging her, then stepping back. ‘Did you get my letter?’

  ‘Just yesterday,’ said Ada. ‘It got mixed up among the papers on your father’s desk . . .’ ‘So you know I made some new friends! Oh, and Ada, you must forgive me,’ Emily continued, leading Ada towards one of the many doorways of the Gormless George, ‘I took the liberty of inviting my new friends to Ghastly-Gorm Hall for the literary dog show – they were so excited when they heard about it. They love poets and writers!’ She paused and looked worried. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ ‘Of course not. I’d love to meet your new friends,’ said Ada as brightly as she could, though she couldn’t help being a little jealous. Emily hugged Ada again and then grabbed her hand and stepped inside. Ada had never been in a coaching inn before and was fascinated to see what one looked like inside. She wasn’t sure her father would approve, so she decided that she wouldn’t tell him. Looking around, she saw that they were in a tiny room

  61

  filled with gentlemen sitting at small tables trying to read their newspapers without elbowing each other in the ribs or knocking over foaming drinks in tin mugs. A sign on the wall said ‘Pickwick Snug – no cat swinging’. ‘Excuse me . . . excuse me . . . pardon me,’ said Emily politely, weaving her way across the crowded room and through another door. Ada followed and found herself in another tiny room, full of ladies trying to powder their faces without getting in each other’s way. A sign on the wall said ‘Powder Room – no cat swinging’. Beyond that room were ‘The Smoking Room –

  62

  no cat swinging’, which had an extremely smoky fireplace, ‘The Tap Room – no cat swinging’, which had very, very noisy floorboards, and ‘The Waiting Room – no cat swinging’, which was full of waiters. Each room was equally small and crowded. After a lot of ‘Excuse me’s, ‘Pardon me’s and ‘Was that your foot? I’m so sorry’s, Ada and Emily entered ‘The Long Waiting Room’, which was a narrow corridor filled with passengers from the Ghastlyshire mail coach trying to find places to sit.

  63

  ‘Why does the Gormless George have so many rooms,’ gasped Ada, who was quite red in the face from struggling through the crowds, ‘and why do they all have to be so small?’ ‘I suppose it makes it more difficult to swing a cat,’ said Emily with a shrug.* They made their way over to a corner where three figures were perched on a windowsill resting their feet on their luggage, three travelling trunks with ‘C.V.’, ‘E.V.’ and ‘A.V.’ stencilled on the sides. ‘Allow me to introduce my school friends Charlotte, Emily and Anne Vicarage,’ said Emily. ‘This is my best friend, Ada,’ she told them. ‘Very pleased to meet you,’ said Ada politely. The Vicarage sisters didn’t reply. They were wearing large bonnets that cast their faces in shadow so Ada wasn’t sure if they’d heard her. ‘They’re very shy,’ said Emily, tapping

  *The indoor sport of taking a cat and swinging it by the tail at a row of mouse-shaped skittles is extremely cruel and takes up a lot of space, as do goat throwing and sheep bowling, which can only be done in large barns.

  64

  each of them on the knee in turn, so they looked up, ‘and they’re wearing their sonnet-bonnets. They made their own,’ she explained, ‘after they saw the bonnet you gave me.’ Charlotte, Emily and Anne Vicarage looked back at Ada, their blue eyes glinting from the depths of their bonnets, like

  little owls peering out from a hole in a tree. Then, reaching up, they each unclipped a sheet of paper from the lining of their bonnets and wrote on them with a pencil, which they passed between them. They held up the little pieces of paper. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Goth.’ ‘Thank you for having us to stay. We’re very excited about the literary dog show.’ ‘The novelists (and poet) are over there!’

  67

  Emily leaned over and whispered confidentially in Ada’s ear, ‘It’s a little odd at first, but you soon get used to it.’

  68

  Chapter Five s they left the Gormless George they saw that the mail coach* had left and the dog cart was now hitched to the Difference Engine, which was standing in the yard hissing and rattling as it slowly built up a head of steam. There was a crowd of strangely dressed people standing around in the yard, and Ada realized they must be the contestants of the literary dog show, the owners of the dogs. ‘Well, ladies and gentlemen of letters,’ said Dr Cabbage to the crowd, ‘thanks to the new age of steam I’ll get us back to Ghastly-Gorm Hall in no time! All aboard!’ He climbed up into the driving seat, while Ada, Emily and the Vicarage sisters settled themselves in the shovel-shaped seat beside him. Each sister had a monkey in her lap, which

  *The next stop for the Ghastlyshire mail coach is the wool town of Baa-Baachester in the next county. Dean Torville learned to skate at the theological college there, with his good friend Anthony Wallop.

  69

  they were silently making a fuss of – tickling tummies, stroking tails and patting heads. ‘It’ll be a wee bit of a squeeze, kind sir,’ said a little man with a rather large head and very bushy white eyebrows. He was dressed from head to foot in tartan except for his waistcoat, which was white and covered in ink stains. A clutch of inky quills stuck out from the headband of his tartan top hat.

  70

  The Vicarage sisters wriggled with excitement and held out notes to Ada: ‘Like knights errant of old, Ivanhoe and I will venture forth on foot in quest of castle Goth . . .’ Sir Walter waved his walking stick in the direction of Ghastly-Gorm Hall. He opened a door in the dog cart and a large thin dog leaped out and ran around and around him, excitedly wagging its tail. ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged,’ said a rather stern-looking lady stepping forward

  71

  to stand next to Sir Walter Splott, ‘that an ambulatory perambulation is always in want of canine sagacity. We’ll all walk.’ The Vicarage sisters held up signs that read: There was a squeal of delight from over by the duck pond where the Ambridge sisters were helping Dean Torville take off his skates. Fancyday dropped the dean’s foot in her excitement, knocking him off balance and

  72

  sending him head first back into a snowdrift. ‘Plain Austen – the lady novelist!’ she exclaimed, rushing across the yard with her sisters, Bathsheba and Tess, close behind. ‘I’d know your prose anywhere!’ ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged that in plain speaking no other scriptress possesses my prestidigitation on the printed page,’ said Plain Austen. The Vicarage sisters held up another translation. This one read: ‘You’re here for the dog show?’ asked Fancyday. ‘The very same.’ Plain Austen opened the dog cart and released her dog. ‘This is Emma, a Hampshire Blue Bloodhound of impeccable breeding and singular wit.’ ‘She’s lovely!’ said Fancyday as the wrinkly-faced dog snuffled at the hem of her dress.

  73

  A well-dressed gentleman with rather unruly hair and the biggest neckerchief Ada had ever seen stepped forward. ‘William Timepiece Thackeray, at your service,’ he said. At the first sight of him, the Ambridge sisters swooned and completely forgot about Plain Austen, who appeared rather disgruntled. ‘High-society satirist,’ he went on smoothly, taking each sister’s hand in turn and kissing it. ‘Show-off,’ muttered Sir Walter.

  74

  William Timepiece Thackeray opened the dog cart and whistled. ‘Boodles, Mayfair Bulldog,’ he announced as a heavyset dog lumbered out. ‘Blue blood, of course. I heard you ladies singing – veritable sirens of song all three of you, what-what?’ Fancyday and her sisters blushed with delight. ‘If it was down to me, you’d be gracing the

  75

  London stage, not the edge of a frozen pond, what-what?’ ‘Well, it isn’t down to you, sir,’ said Dean Torville icily. He had managed to pull himself out of the snow bank and looked decidedly chilly. ‘I’ll expect yo
u at quire practice,’ he told the sisters before disappearing inside the Gormless George. The clatter and twang of unlikely instruments being tripped over came from the Pickwick Snug where the Gormless village band was attempting to find a place to sit. ‘Country music always makes me want to dance!’ exclaimed a young lady in gentlemen’s