The Girl in the Garden

Chapter 12

It was well past midnight when Ben decided it was safe to sneak out. Lolly would be the one most likely to find them since her room was off the kitchen. "That's probably a good thing," Ben said as they discussed their plan. "I think she's the only one who wouldn't get mad at us."

Sparrow smiled in agreement and said, "We could just tell her we're looking for a snack, and I bet she'd actually be happy about us being out of bed."

They tiptoed past her bedroom and quietly navigated the dark kitchen. They were halfway to the front stairs when Ben was startled by the sound of a stifled snore. He held out an arm to stop Sparrow from going any further and pointed to a hulking lump that was asleep on the table. Lolly had apparently poured herself a glass of brandy, as evidenced by the beveled crystal bottle by her head and the matching glass in her hand.

"She's out cold," Sparrow said, "I've seen her like this before. She won't wake up."

Ben continued with caution, leading the way up the stairs to the front hall. He put his hands against the heavy door and held his breath as he swung it open. During his days at the manor, Ben never noticed how loud the door was, but in the stillness of the quiet night, it let out a squeal that echoed in the high ceiling.

Ben glanced back when the door was open to see if Ms. Herrier had been roused by the sound, then quickly ushered Sparrow outside with him. He eased the door closed and smiled at his friend. "Oh wow, we're out."

"Of course we are," Sparrow said, "I knew you could get us out here, now let's go."

They rushed off across the overgrown grounds towards the conservatory, and Ben crouched down next to the closest broken window. He glanced inside and said, "I don't see Mr. Willoughs in there. There's no light on or anything."

Ben held out his hands to hoist Sparrow into the window and heard Sparrow tumble to the floor inside. He angrily hushed his friend, and Sparrow grumbled, "If you were more gentle I wouldn't have fallen."

"Well, if you were more graceful!" Ben whipped back.

"I'm graceful."

"Whatever," Ben said and reached his hands up into the window frame. "Just be quiet and help me up."

Sparrow's hands grabbed hold of Ben's, and Ben scrambled against the side of the building as he felt himself being pulled up off the ground. They tumbled backward into the room, and Ben shushed Sparrow before he could complain. "Listen, do you hear anything?"

From their uncomfortable position in a pile, Ben and Sparrow listened for any sign that their commotion roused the groundskeeper, but all they heard was silence. Ben got to his feet and helped Sparrow do the same.

"Where should we start?" Sparrow asked.

Ben thought about the day he peered in through the conservatory windows. He felt like it would be good to do a thorough search, but he also felt like the room that had been burned most probably wouldn't reveal much more than charred furniture and ruined walls.

"Let's split up," Ben pointed towards the room that had been the epicenter of the fire. Wanting to have a better chance than his friend at being something worthwhile, he said, "I think you should start that way. I'll go down here."

Sparrow nodded, and they went their separate ways. Ben found himself quietly stepping down a narrow hallway and came out into a dark room that he recognized as the first room he'd peered into when he was snooping. What surprised him, though, was the sight of Mr. Willoughs sitting on the floor in the corner.

Ben's first instinct was to run, but then he realized something strange. The old man had his back to the corner of the room, and his long, skinny legs were bent up in front of him with his arms resting on his knees. Despite what looked like a less than comfortable position, Mr. Willoughs' head was leaning forward, and he appeared to be fast asleep.