might not have been the real owner of the school! Which would mean that Henry wouldn’t have inherited it. This could change everything!” I felt amazed that we’d found a secret about Mr Bartholomew so soon after his death. It was just what we needed – almost as if our mother had known, somehow.
Ariadne nodded. “Keep reading,” she said.
5
I think the rumours might be true. I have done all the research I can. Rookwood was owned by an old family for centuries – how did it pass to him? One minute he was merely the headmaster; the next, I read in the newspaper that the place has always belonged to him. Something is very wrong here. I fear that the only evidence may be inside Rookwood.
6
I have made a grave mistake. I should never have gone back to that school.
Ivy gasped.
I paused and raised my eyebrows.
“She came back here?” my twin exclaimed. “I never thought …” She trailed off, speechless.
Mortimer agreed to take me there again. He thinks I have a strange fascination, but he didn’t argue. This time I left him at the Fox and Hounds with his friend while I went to the school. Walking down that long driveway brought back years of memories I had tried to forget. I told the secretary that I was a prospective parent and she let me look around. Every step along the corridor felt dangerous, but I had to search for evidence. I made it to the library and I found some documents on the history of the building. But that was all. I searched other places, even the secret places I had known long ago, trying to look like an interested parent whenever anyone set eyes on me. But there was nothing.
As I went to leave, I saw him – the headmaster, Mr Bartholomew. He was striding down the hallway towards me. He met my eye for a split second, and my blood turned to frost. I quickly faced away and ducked into a nearby classroom. I still do not know if he saw me, and if he did … whether he knew I was the girl that had challenged him all those years ago. The one witness to Emmie’s murder.
I am afraid, though, that he does know. I am afraid that he will find out who I am and where I live. How could I have been so foolish? This is not for me to solve, not now that I am happy and safe and married. If I am to defeat him, I cannot be reckless. I need to be stronger. I need a plan.
That was all she had written. There were no more pages of Ariadne’s translation. I frowned. “She had all of this, and she never managed to take Mr Bartholomew down?”
“But we did,” Ivy said.
I looked up at my twin. She wasn’t meeting my eye, but I could see a tear glistening on her cheek. I knew how she felt. We’d been the ones who’d got justice for our mother and her friend. We’d finally stopped him.
If only she could have known back then that she’d finally be vindicated. I hated the thought that she’d died without finishing what she’d started, feeling that she’d failed. I curled my fist tightly round the pages.
“This is important,” Ariadne said. “Perhaps your mother was on to something. If Mr Bartholomew didn’t really own the school, then who did it belong to? Could it have been this family that she talked of?”
“Hmm.” I sniffed. I was trying to pretend I wasn’t on the verge of tears.
Ariadne’s eyes glittered in the light. She pulled out the remaining pages – they must have been the documents that our mother had found. They were a little yellow, folded very small and covered with curly handwriting that looked many years old. “I read these as well. It wasn’t easy.”
I squinted at them. Even some of the spellings looked unfamiliar, but I could make out the word Rookwood. “Anything useful?”
“It talks about the Lord and Lady of Rookwood. It’s a bit of their family history and the history of the house, how it was originally built in the sixteen hundreds and expanded and changed over the years. It’s all rather fascinating—”
“Summarise?” I said impatiently. Ivy rolled her eyes at me.
“Well,” Ariadne said, “I think what your mother was trying to get across was that this same family, the Woottons, owned the house for many generations. It was always passed down to the eldest child or, if there wasn’t one, to a cousin. It was supposed to stay in the family. So how did it end up in the hands of Mr Bartholomew?”
“Perhaps there was no one else left,” Ivy suggested, running her fingertips over the paper. “And he was given it because he wanted to run the school.”
“It sounds like that’s what Mr Bartholomew wanted everyone to think,” I said. “But what’s the truth?”
Ivy smiled sadly. “It’s been so long. I don’t know if we’ll be able to find out.” Ariadne gave a silent nod in response.
I stared into the candle flame for a moment, and I felt a flicker inside myself too. A spark of something. Something that would never go out.
“No, come on,” I said, looking back and forth between my twin and our best friend. “This is us we’re talking about. If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s finding the truth.”
“But after all these years—” Ariadne started.
“We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again. The Whispers. Miss Fox. Rose’s family. We’ve uncovered all their secrets, haven’t we?” I told them. A grin spread across my face. “The truth can’t hide forever.”
There was a man standing several doors down, and he appeared to be having some sort of confrontation with Matron.
“Never heard anything so ridiculous in my life!” she was shouting, waving her arms about. She still had her dressing gown on and hair rollers in. “These are girls’ dormitories!”
There were other heads peering out of doors too. Everyone wanted to know what was going on.
“I appreciate that, madam,” the man said. He was short, with silver hair and spectacles, and he was carrying a clipboard. “But I’ve been employed to do a full inspection of the building.”
Matron shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t care what you’ve been employed to do! I’m not letting you walk around these rooms, certainly not while they’re occupied. And preferably not at all! What gives you the right?”
The man didn’t seem to be particularly concerned by Matron’s outburst. He looked slowly from his clipboard to his watch, not meeting her eye. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I have my orders from the owner.”
Scarlet leant round me. “He doesn’t sound particularly sorry,” she whispered.
She was right. He didn’t.
“You can’t be serious,” Matron said, flapping her arms. “When the headmistress hears about this—”
“When the headmistress owns the school, she can give the orders,” the man replied. “But for now I really must insist that you let me inspect the rooms.”
I