The Spook nodded. ‘You seem very interested in words and their meanings today, lad.’
‘I do find place names interesting,’ I told him. ‘Especially County ones, and the way their meaning sometimes changes over time. It’s funny how the word Pendle once meant “hill”. But now we use that word with it and call it Pendle Hill.’
There was another place name that had been lurking in my mind since I first read it in Mam’s instructions – the Wardstone, a hill that lay to the east of Caster, which I hadn’t even known existed. Why did it carry my name? Was it just a coincidence that the ritual to destroy the Fiend had to be carried out there? My mind immediately turned to Alice and the terrible things that had to be done to her. Shuddering, I thrust the thought to the back of my mind and forced myself to concentrate on what the Spook was saying.
‘That’s true enough. And you’re right – places sometimes have very old names from an era when the word meant something totally different. Their origins are lost in the mists of time.’
Suddenly I realized that it was very quiet; unnaturally so. I was about to mention it to my master, but before I could speak he halted and pointed ahead to what must surely be the home of Mistress Fresque.
‘Well, lad, I’ve never seen anything quite like that before. I’m no architect, but I know what’s pleasing to the eye, and that house is a very odd mixture of styles.’
It was large, with the central part built in the shape of a letter E, like many grand County mansions. But other sections had been added in a higgledy-piggledy manner, as if each new owner had felt compelled to build on, giving no thought to what already existed; many different types of stone and brick had been used, and the towers and turrets lacked any symmetry – there was no sense of balance and harmony at all. But there was something else that added to my sense of disquiet.
It was the trees, which crowded in around the house as if demanding entry. Most people would have cleared the saplings when they first started to sprout, or at least cut them back. But nothing had been done at all. Trees draped their branches over the roof or leaned against the walls as if trying to push them over. One had even grown right out of the path outside the front door. Anyone leaving or entering the house would have to step around it. It was gloomy too; the sun could not find a way through the leaf canopy.
‘The place has been badly neglected,’ said the Spook. ‘I hope the library is in better condition! Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough.’
It was surprising to see the house in such a state. Judd had said that Mistress Fresque was a practical woman. So why would she allow the trees to grow up like that? It didn’t make sense.
There was no surrounding wall or gate; the path we’d been using continued right up to the front door. Walking round the tree that blocked his path, the Spook went up and rapped on it twice.
There was no answer so he tried again. Once more I noticed how quiet it was. It was a real contrast to my master’s house at Chipenden which, at this time of year, was surrounded by bird-song. It was as if something huge and threatening was lurking nearby, sending all the forest creatures into hiding.
I was just about to comment on this to my master when I heard footsteps approaching the door. Then a key was turned in the lock and it slowly opened inwards. A girl was standing before us, holding a candle in one hand and a big bunch of keys in the other. She was slim and pretty and couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen years of age. She was dressed simply in a black dress that came down to her ankles; it contrasted with her long, reddish fair hair, which was pulled back from her forehead by a coronet in the current fashion of well-to-do County women. Her face was very pale but her lips were painted red, and at the sight of us they widened into a smile and all my former unease evaporated away.
‘Good afternoon,’ she said in greeting. ‘You must be John Gregory and his apprentice, Thomas Ward. I have heard so much about you. I am Mistress Fresque, but please use my first name. Call me Cosmina.’
I was immediately struck by her accent. She spoke English well but undoubtedly came from Romania, as Judd had explained. And despite her obvious youth, her eyes seemed to hold the experience and assurance of a much older woman.
‘We are pleased to be here,’ said the Spook, ‘and are very much looking forward to examining your store of books. Judd Brinscall guided us here but had to leave on business.’
‘Well, he is my guest, so we’ll see him later – and you are most welcome. I bid you enter . . . ’ With those words she stepped aside, and the Spook and I crossed the threshold into the gloomy interior.
‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘I will show you to the library.’
She turned on her heel and led us down a passageway lined with a wainscot painted a dark glossy brown. Right at the end, directly facing us, was an oval door. She selected a key from the bunch and turned it in the lock, and we followed her inside. Immediately I heard the Spook gasp in astonishment.
We were in a vast round tower and its walls were fitted with curved wooden shelves whose every inch was occupied by books. In the centre was a round oaken table, its surface highly polished, and three chairs. There was another door directly opposite the one we had come through.
This was an atrium, a circular space that extended right up to the conical roof. I glimpsed other floors – maybe six or seven – each furnished with books in the same way. The library must have contained thousands of books, and it was many times larger than the Spook’s one at Chipenden.
‘You are the owner of this vast library?’ he asked in astonishment.
‘Nobody can ever truly own a library such as this,’ Mistress Fresque replied. ‘It is a legacy from the past. I am just its keeper and preserver.’
The Spook nodded. He understood that. That was exactly the position he had taken towards his own library. It wasn’t about ownership; it had been about keeping it safe for the use of future generations of spooks. Now it was gone, and he felt its loss keenly. I was really pleased for my master: now he might be able to start restocking it.
‘I am the librarian, but I have the right to lend books or sell any which I consider surplus to requirements,’ the girl went on.
‘May I ask what percentage of this large collection of books actually relates to the dark?’ asked the Spook.
‘Approximately one seventh,’ Mistress Fresque replied. ‘In fact, the whole of this lowest floor. Why don’t you examine the books at your leisure? I will bring you some refreshments.’