The Beasts of Clawstone Castle Read Online Free PDF Page B

was happening inside the castle was very worrying indeed. Because the Honourable Olive had been right: more and more visitors came to Trembellow and fewer and fewer came to Clawstone.
    But it wasn’t till she went upstairs to help Aunt Emily sort out the things for the gift shop that Madlyn saw that something would have to be done.
    Emily was sitting on the bed. Beside her on the quilt were the three lavender bags, the tea cosy made of Uncle George’s pyjamas, a glove with four fingers, and a bookmark stuck with pressed periwinkle flowers.
    And Emily was crying.
    When she saw Madlyn she hurriedly dabbed her eyes but it wasn’t easy to fool Madlyn, who came and put her arm round Emily’s shoulders and said, ‘What is it, Aunt Emily? What’s the matter?’
    Emily waved an arm at the treasures on the counterpane.
    ‘Nothing has sold, Madlyn. Nothing. Not one thing. And I’m so tired, and I can’t think of anything else to make. It’s all hopeless, and it will break George’s heart if we have to sell the park. He seems to think the cows came to him from God.’ She groped for a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘Before they opened up Trembellow we could just keep going, but now. . .’
    Madlyn moved the lavender bags and sat down beside her aunt. Part of her was feeling rather cross. She had so many friends at school that she worried about and cared about, and there were her parents and Rollo. Loving people is hard work and she had not intended to start caring about her ancient aunt.
    But she did care about her – and now it seemed that something would have to be done.
    Only what? What would bring visitors flocking to Clawstone? Not more lavender bags, that was for sure, not more burnt scones or tea cosies . . . What would turn people away from Trembellow and bring them to Clawstone?
    When she went to bed that night Madlyn tossed and turned for hours, racking her brains . . . Then suddenly she sat up in bed. Of course. She should have thought of it before. It was obvious.
    When she had an idea now, Madlyn discussed it with Ned.
    ‘Well, I suppose you’re right. But I don’t know where we’d get them from. There aren’t any in the village as far as I know.’
    ‘Why not? You’d think there’d be plenty. People must have drowned in the horse pond or been murdered in dark lanes or buried in the wrong graves.’
    Ned was pondering. ‘I dare say, but I suppose this is a quiet sort of place and they just stayed in the ground or wherever.’
    ‘I’ll have to ask Cousin Howard,’ said Madlyn. ‘He must know.’
    Ned looked at her sidways. ‘I’d better come with you. He can be a bit moody like.’
    ‘All right. I’d be glad if you would, actually. I’ve never talked to him properly and Aunt Emily doesn’t realize that I know what he is.’
    Cousin Howard was in his library and not pleased to be disturbed. They had brought Rollo also, and when he saw the three children he hurried away quickly and vanished through the door that led into his bedroom.
    But this time the children took no notice. ‘Please, Cousin Howard, we need your help,’ said Madlyn. ‘We really need it.’
    Cousin Howard reappeared through the door. He was wearing his usual dressing gown and leather slippers, and his face, which was always pale, had turned quite white with panic and alarm.
    ‘I’m not . . . I don’t talk to people I don’t know . . .’ he mumbled. ‘I don’t talk to people that I do know. I don’t talk.’
    He took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. He had the long scholarly features of the Percivals, and his straggly grey hair was badly in need of cutting.
    Howard had lived most of his life at Clawstone, but like all the Percival men he had been sent away to boarding school when he was a boy, where he had been most unhappy . . .
    ‘What’s the point of Percival, can anyone tell me?’ one of the prefects had sneered when he first saw Howard. ‘I mean, what’s he for ?’
    No one knew the answer to that,