Chapter 9 Ormdale
Chapter nine
Ormdale
When Una regained consciousness, she was on the floor of the muniments room, in a circle of lamplight and worried faces.
Kneeling on the floor beside her were Janushek and Pip, and higher up she could make out the craggy features of their estate manager, Alfred Dugdale, and his wife.
Una felt groggy but strangely calm. She turned her head and saw there was a dark stain on the floor beside her.
“I did need rescuing, after all, Janushek,” she said, with a mouth that felt woolly.
“This blood is not yours, little one,” said Janushek.
“Oh. I did hit him, then,“ she concluded, amazed.
“There, you see? What did I tell you?” Janushek’s tone was light, but it had a grim edge to it. “Do you have any tightness in your chest?”
Una often felt tightness in her chest, but at the present… She shook her head.
“The reliquary!” she gasped. “Did he take it?”
They all looked at each other.
“You were attacked with chloral,” said Janushek. “We found the bottle. Did you see the person who did it?”
“I didn’t see him, exactly, but he spoke to me,“ said Una slowly. “It was James Anderson. At least—that’s what he said his name was. I don’t suppose he was.
He didn’t care about the quetzalcoatl, and he knew far too much about scones, and didn’t drink cordial.
I think he was from Devon. And I think he’d been in Africa, and got hurt there.
Perhaps that’s where it all went wrong for him.
But I don’t know why he cared about Saint George so much.
I don’t suppose he was devout after all, since he did that to me. ”
It was all sensible, but it came out in such a way that everyone exchanged worried looks.
“Shall we move her now, gentlemen?” said Mrs Alfred. “I think it is quite safe, and she will be more comfortable elsewhere.”
“But the relic!” Una insisted. “Please!”
“Where is it kept?” Janushek asked.
Una pointed to the box.
“It’s locked,” Janushek said. “That is what he was after?“ He looked puzzled.
Una put a hand to her head. Nothing made sense at all.
Janushek slipped an arm under her shoulder.
“Dugdale should carry me,” Una protested, for Janushek was not a tall man. “I am heavier than I look.”
Janushek laughed. “Still telling us all what to do?”
“I’ll carry her,” said Pip, and Una was whisked up in her half brother’s arms. It was surprisingly comforting.
Why hadn’t she told him she cared more for him than she’d ever cared for her own brother? Perhaps she should do it now. But she was very dizzy and not sure if this would be the right thing to say.
“You ought to rest, dear,” said Mrs Alfred, arranging the coverlet over Una. “You ought to stay very quiet until we’ve had the doctor here.”
“May I have something to drink?” asked Una.
“Of course,” said Mrs Alfred, putting Una’s keys on the side table. Una had the idea that there was something important about those keys, but she could not remember what it was.
Dugdale looked at Janushek. “I’m going to go rouse the magistrate.”
Janushek got up and said something in a serious undertone to Dugdale, which Pip heard but Una did not.
“I can stay with her,” offered Pip.
The room was very quiet when they left. Pip settled into a chair.
“How did you know what happened, Pip?”
“Oolong fetched me,” Pip answered.
Now Una’s chest did feel tight. The last she had seen Oolong, he had been defending her, and she hadn’t even thought to inquire what had become of him.
“Oh, Pip!” she cried. “He wasn’t hurt, was he?”
“Not to speak of. Just thoroughly fagged after going all the way to find me. I left him with Mam. He’ll be all right; I’m sure she’ll bring him over later.”
There was silence.
“Una, something awful happened.” Pip’s voice sounded thin.
“Something awful?” repeated Una.
She had been attacked at midnight by a thief in a fake moustache, but somehow, something yet more terrible than that had happened, because it seemed to bother Pip more. What could it be?
“It wasn’t the squire,” Pip said, and he was quite pale.
“What are you talking about?” Una asked.
“I don’t think—no. I know. I’m not your brother.“ He looked down, as if ashamed. “Mam told me, after supper.”
“Not my brother?” Una stared at him. “Then who are you?”
He laughed bitterly. “Even more of a nobody than I imagined, I suppose. What a joke!”
Una squinted at him. “But this won’t do, Pip. When Molly in the village was expecting her baby too soon, they just had the wedding earlier. But you were raised here, and given lessons with us, for some reason.“ She shook her head and then regretted it. “Ugh, my head!”
Pip blinked at her. “Oh. I’m sorry. Don’t worry about it for now. Just rest.” He picked up a book and sat back in the chair, but a moment later he shut it, his eyes brighter. “You really think there’s something more to it?”
“Of course there is,” Una said with a yawn, and just then Mrs Alfred came in with a tray.
“Yes,” she heard Pip repeat to himself, “of course there is.”
As soon as she’d swallowed some of the brandy-and-water, she was exhausted.
“Mrs Alfred,” she blurted, though she could hardly speak with weariness, “someone must go down to the village to see if the paper has run out yet at the ticket booth for Monday morning, I meant to do it yesterday.”
“It’s all right, old girl,” said Pip, and he squeezed her hand with a laugh. “Fancy worrying about something like that!”
Mrs Alfred looked from her to Pip with the kind of blank expression that usually meant she was anything but blank on the inside, but Una, for once in her life, was entirely incapable of imagining what another person was thinking, and fell asleep.