Page 35 of Infamous

‘And that doesn’t soothe you?’ said Eddie, watching as Nash helped Captain Perkins spool rope with great enthusiasm, while the captain looked as if he’d quite like to keelhaul his employer.

‘GoodLord, no,’ said Kitty, shuddering. ‘Just close your eyes and pretend you’re half to three quarters sprung, swaying safely on dry land in liquor’s sweet embrace.’

‘Er .?.?.’ said Eddie. ‘All right.’

When Valentine shook the flask at her again, she thought it wisest to take it.

Chapter Fourteen

The journey was not quite as harrowing as Kitty had made out it would be.

For one thing, it only lasted fifteen minutes, aided by the stiff breeze that was apparently blowing them in just the right direction, if Nash’s knowledge of sailing was to be believed. Eddie had just become used to the rocking of the boat and the particular deafening quality of the bracing wind when Captain Perkins turned the vessel in readiness to dock it and Eddie got her first proper look at the island.

There was a small jetty, twin to the one on the mainland; it, too, looked ancient, and a bit nervous about the job it had been given. There had clearly been some other wooden structures next to it in the water but these had long rotted away, leaving only dark, jagged stumps rising up above the shallow breakers. A squat, grey stone building with overly decadent arched windows sat behind them – it must have been some sort of boathouse, although there was no obvious way for any boats within to reach the water. Beyond, endless trees and no sign of the house, although Eddie thought she could make out the start of a well-worn path through the woods.

Five pale figures were standing on the shore, clearly not keen to advance onto the jetty itself. As the boat drew closer, Eddie saw an elderly man and woman, standing close enough together that she presumed they might be married, a lady of about five-and-fifty in a very severe dress, a housemaid, and a young, broad man of around eighteen, who stood head and shoulders above the rest.

‘That cannot be youngHenry,’ said Nash, leaning so far out over the edge of the boat that Mr Akerele had to grab him by the back of his jacket lest he urgently acquaint himself with the lake bed. ‘Good God, I think it is. Liza, wasn’t he a .?.?. a shrimpish sort of thing, the last time we saw him?’

‘He would have been only thirteen or fourteen then,’ Liza said, shielding her eyes with one hand to get a better look at the shore. ‘He was already taller than you.’

‘Well, yes. He’s shrimp, I’m krill.’

‘Mr Nicholson,’ Captain Perkins said in his gravelly voice, nodding to the rope in his hand. ‘If you don’t mind.’

Nash clearly didn’t mind one bit – in fact, it had become obvious that he thought of himself as a seasoned sailor, even if Captain Perkins’ eyebrows vehemently disagreed. He was all too willing to roll up his shirtsleeves and grab at various ropes and pulleys until Mr Perkins forcefully put the correct ones into his hands. The young, robust man on the shore – Henry – bravely half-jogged down the dock to receive them, and Captain Perkins clapped him on the back in a surprisingly good-natured way as he climbed up out of the boat.

‘Miss Li,’ said Albert, offering Rose his hand; he managed to only look briefly surprised and then rearrange his face into pleasant neutrality when Kitty reached him first and took the proffered hand instead, stepping up onto the dock and sighing with obvious relief.

‘When we leave, I’ll thank you all to knock me out first with either a gallon of laudanum or a large mallet, whichever happens to be closer to hand.’

Once they had all clambered out of the boat and the staff had done a lot of bowing and curtseying, there was a brief silence as they considered the luggage-to-servants ratio. Henry, who seemed to be imbued with the strength and pectoral muscles of ten men, somehow managed a trunk in each hand, and strode off up the path through the trees with a promise to come back for the rest. When Albert tried to pick up Rose’s trunk, Nash held up a hand to stop him.

‘You can’t do that and rob him of his sport, the poor fellow lives for it. What else has he got all those muscles for? Leave it here. It’s hardly going to be stolen. We’re the only living creatures on this island apart from a few spare owls and lost voles.’

So it was sans luggage that they all followed Nash and Liza up the path, which sloped gently until it reached the treeline and then became rather steep. Somebody had recently cut back some of the undergrowth – Henry, probably, making use of his enormous biceps – but they were still under constant threat of being jabbed with stray branches or tripping over the roots that had encroached onto the track. The dog loped on ahead, frequently vanishing and reappearing in unexpected places, her nose to the ground. Daylight had already been dwindling when they stepped onto the boat, and the thick canopy of branches overhead made things even murkier.

‘Have you brought us here to kill us off one by one?’ Kitty asked Nash, sounding not the least bit worried, as if this might in fact be quite an interesting and entertaining outcome. She had hiked up her skirts, revealing pink stockings, and was marching determinedly at the front of the pack.

‘If that had been my plan, don’t you think I would have elbowed one of you off the boat midway across and blamed it on the boom?’

Kitty did have a point; the whole thing was starting to feel quite ominous as they trudged through the gloom with no signs of civilisation in any direction. Eddie lengthened her stride, trying to catch up with Rose so that she could mutter so in her ear, but as she drew nearer Albert offered Rose his arm and she took it, smiling gratefully at him. Eddie let herself fall back, and stayed resolutely silent for the rest of the walk, listening to the sound of the birds and the soft crunch of leaves and sticks underfoot.

Eventually the ground beneath them started to level out. They turned a corner and suddenly the house was right there in front of them, framed neatly through the opening in the trees.

Eddie’s first thought was that it was less a house and more acastle. It was three storeys tall, with small square turrets protruding at each corner, one of which was flying a couple of flags that had been so shredded by the elements that they looked like proudly displayed rags. The house felt strangely hollow, perhaps because almost all of the windows on the uppermost floors were shuttered, and the ones that weren’t were dark. Only the lower floors were lit; there was a small stone porch housing the front door, which was ajar and spilling yolk-gold light out onto the worn steps. As they approached, the wind picked up, and one of the flags gave up the ghost entirely and tore itself free, fluttering away across the short lawn and into the trees.

‘I love a bad omen,’ said Valentine.

Dayo laughed resignedly.

‘It is not an augury – the house is simply informing us that it knows we are entirely ungovernable,’ Nash said brightly.

Henry stepped out of the front door, not even slightly out of breath. The rest of the servants were still a little way behind the main party, struggling through the woods with as much luggage as they had been able to carry.

‘The fires are lit, sir.’

‘Very good, Henry,’ said Nash. ‘God, what have you been eating? Lesser men?’