The Strange Fate of Kitty Easton Read Online Free PDF

the terrors of the unknown might be represented in something abstract and mysterious. The window faced west, so the memories embodied in it would always be illuminated by the setting sun.

Chapter Three
    When Laurence returned to the house, Eleanor directed him to William’s makeshift office beyond the butler’s pantry. The old brick floor was worn smooth and William seemed able to manoeuvre around it with ease.
    William’s delight at Laurence’s reaction to the porch of St Barbara’s was tangible. ‘It’s breathtaking, isn’t it? Gloriously pagan. I was determined to drag you down here without letting on. I’ve found no record of it but I’m limited to the library here of course.’
    He spun his chair and pointed to a large plan of the village pinned on the wall.
    ‘And now to the mundane. These are the cottages we’re working on. No repairs since the last century. No running water. Outdoor wells, earth closets. Even the old vicarage,’ and he waved a snooker cue to indicate a larger property in its own garden standing back from the others, ‘was frozen—and I use the word aptly—in the 1850s. Little wonder they couldn’t find a new incumbent. It’s completely derelict now, though it must have been quite a fine building. Elsewhere, some decaying thatch. We’ve had to wait for a thatcher and his lad from Avebury. Generally: well, glad as I am to be here, nothing really needs an architect—a good foreman could see to it. Severe damp mostly. Rotten timbers. There was one place in one of the cottages where we might have had a lethal accident any minute. We lifted worm-eaten boards at the foot of the stair to find a deep well. Nobody had known about it. The two little boys there were given to jumping from halfway up the stairs to the ground. They could have gone through any minute. We blocked it up. There was a nasty moment when they hauled out some bones. Julian was ashen—and we never told Lydia. But they were identified as the remains of a dog.’
    Laurence nodded. ‘The well wasn’t found in the search, then?’
    ‘I’m sorry?’
    ‘For the child? For Kitty Easton before the war? They didn’t discover the well then?’
    ‘Evidently not.’ William sat back in his chair and shook his head. ‘You know, everybody talks of what a thorough search it was—with lakes drained, ponds and rivers dragged, every barn and outhouse scoured. Melancholy business. But for all that, they will have overlooked as many places as they explored.’
    He appeared to be considering his own words even as he spoke.
    ‘The child—what’s left of her, if anything—might not be very far away at all. Easton—the house, the village, the surrounding land—is full of forgotten corners. I’ve seen some even without leaving this chair. Disused buildings. Sealed spaces. Water. The well we revealed was just one of them.’
    He gestured to the other side of the room where three maps, apparently of different ages, had been pinned up.
    ‘The plans are pretty rudimentary. I can tell you that any excavation here carries its own grim dramas.’
    Laurence said, ‘Is Julian aware of the possibilities?’
    ‘All too aware, I think, though in some ways I suspect finding her now would be a relief for him.’
    Laurence could understand that. He wondered whether the shadow of Kitty Easton would ever lift while the current occupants of Easton were alive. They might have stood a chance if a body had ever been found, but her unknown fate prompted constant speculation. He had been guilty of it himself since he first heard of her disappearance.
    Suddenly William leaned forward, eagerly. ‘Enough of that. Now for the symbol of restoration. The maze. A little mystery, a small challenge, a need to engage the mind as well as the eye, is as good a thing in gardens as it is in architecture. Or, indeed, in women.’
    His face looked almost boyish. Laurence laughed in contemplation of the challenging but unmysterious Eleanor.
    ‘I mean, I know you