The Phantom Portrait Read online

  They were all gathered in Lord Fawley’s wonderful library. Bunty was wrapped in a thick woollen blanket, and a huge fire crackled in the grate. Lord Rorston stood by his daughter, running his hands through his hair and looking utterly distraught.

  Maximilian was being dried off rather too roughly by one of the maids. He could feel his fur being pulled into all sorts of directions and was sure that he was going to look a sight by the time she had finished.

  “And this magnificent cat really knew that you were in danger, my dear?” Lord Fawley was saying to Sylvia.

  Sylvia nodded. “Oh yes. Max is a genius. He has a real nose for mystery.”

  Lord Fawley murmured “quite wonderful” under his breath. Maximilian tried to look as noble as it was possible to look when one’s hair is sticking out at all angles.

  “So the Moonrise was hidden in the theatre all these years,” said Arabella. “What a shame it’s probably at the bottom of our lake. Still, no one got hurt. That’s the main thing.” She looked across at Bunty as she said this and it was clear to Maximilian that someone had got hurt. Arabella had lost her best friend.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked, her voice breaking a little.

  The girl had been staring wordlessly at the fire, refusing all attempts by her father to get her to drink some hot, sweet tea or eat a little cake. She stirred and glared at Arabella.

  “Why should you always have the nice things?” she snapped. “Do you know why Daddy really agreed to do this silly archive work for your father? It was because we need the money. We’ve been selling everything. The pearl necklace Mummy left for me, our car. We only still have the plane because no one wants to buy it. No one had seen your tiara in years. No one would miss it. Why shouldn’t I keep it? It was me that found it! It was all there in the Viscountess’s diary. She didn’t go over to the theatre to burn the silly thing down. She went to hide her diamonds so no one would find them. Well, I found them!”

  A tear ran down Arabella’s cheek. “Oh, Bunts,” she sobbed. “Why didn’t you just ask for help?”

  Maximilian watched Bunty. In the garden she had been so vicious and cruel, but now she seemed like a frightened young girl. He could still see the flash of the blade as she pressed the knife against Sylvia’s neck and feel the pain of being thrown against the floor, but in spite of everything he felt a little sorry for her.

  Lord Fawley put a hand on Lord Rorston’s shoulder. “We’ll do our best for her, Rorston,” he said. “I’m sure we can keep all this out of the papers. We’ve been friends for years, after all. If we can just recover the portrait…”

  Maximilian gave his “nothing could be simpler” miaow and dashed from the room. It took him a while to get up to the first floor and back, dragging the heavy canvas behind him. While he made his way across the Great Hall he was sure that he heard cries above him, but he shook the thought away as just nonsense. When they were back in London he would be very happy never to hear the word “ghost” again.

  When he got back to the library, Lord Rorston was pulling a coat on to Bunty, and Lord Fawley was directing one of his footmen to drive them to a hotel in the nearest town. Maximilian dragged the painting to the middle of the room and nudged it with his nose to unroll it.

  “Max, you marvel!” Sylvia exclaimed as everyone stared at the Viscountess’s portrait spread out on the library floor. “Where was it? Oh, how I wish you could talk.”

  Max decided that this was not the time to point out that he could talk and that the problem was that Sylvia could not understand him. Instead, he glared very pointedly at Bunty. The girl buttoned up the coat and pushed a lank piece of hair out of her face.

  “It was in my room,” she said sullenly. “I didn’t damage it, if that’s what you’re all thinking.”

  Lord Rorston shook his head sadly.

  “I feel very responsible,” he said. “The girls tell me that Bunty learned of the tiara in the Viscountess’s diary. If I’d done my job properly and read the diary myself instead of letting her read it, it would have been me who stumbled across the truth about the diamonds, not Bunty, poor girl.”

  The mention of the diary reminded Maximilian of Oscar. Did he still have the page that revealed where the jewels were hidden? And was he safe after Bunty had hurt his paw so badly? Max glanced up to one of the windows, where he thought Oscar might be hiding, but there was no sign of him. As he looked back to Sylvia, who was patting Arabella’s hand, his attention was drawn to a movement behind one of the curtains draped across the long room to keep the draughts out. A black face peered round and Oscar stepped into the library. At first, Maximilian thought that he was carrying the scrap of the diary, but then there was a flash in the lamplight and he realised that Oscar was carrying something else altogether. He walked across the room towards Arabella, limping a little from the wound on his leg. He was dripping wet, his sleek black fur bedraggled and sopping. When he reached Arabella he dropped the scrap in her lap, making her recoil a little at how wet it was. Then Sylvia saw what Oscar had brought them.

  “That’s from my dress,” she cried. “It’s the diamonds!” Arabella’s face lit up and she smoothed the fabric across her lap, marvelling at how the stones made the light dance around the room.

  “Is this one of your cats too?” asked Lord Fawley.

  Mrs Garland shook her head. “He looks oddly familiar, but no, he’s not ours,” she said.

  Maximilian placed himself next to Oscar and miaowed his “this is my best friend, Oscar, and I couldn’t have solved this crime without him” miaow.

  “Well, Max likes him, so that’s good enough for us,” said Sylvia.

  “And he rescued my diamonds,” declared Arabella.

  “Don’t forget Max’s contribution,” said Sylvia. “He found where Bunty had hidden the portrait – that must be why he came after Bunty when she took me into the rose garden. He knew she was up to no good.”

  “And he rescued you,” said Agnes. “And he fished Bunty out of the lake, even though she didn’t really deserve it. He’s a marvel, he really is.”

  “It was you dressing up as Lady Celine, wasn’t it?” Sylvia said, eyeing Bunty keenly. “Were you trying to frighten us away from the theatre so you could hunt for the diamonds?” Bunty did not meet Sylvia’s gaze.

  “I wonder if Max knew that it was really Bunty dressing up, not a ghost,” Agnes said.

  Maximilian miaowed his “of course I did” miaow, but he was drowned out by Lord Rorston giving out a shout of alarm.

  “The ghost! Oh my goodness, Antonio!” he cried. “We were in the middle of rehearsing a surprise for you at midnight, my dear, and I completely forgot about him.”

  The rest of the room looked after Lord Rorston in confusion as he dashed out to rescue the Great Furigo from the ceiling of the Great Hall.

  “You did it again, Maximilian,” Oscar said as they walked together down to the lake for the firework display. The rest of the guests hardly seemed to have missed their host and hostess. They had been enjoying the fire jugglers and the orchestra and the wonderful cocktail bar. Everyone had lost track of time and there was much delight when Lord Fawley announced that it was almost time to take their masks off.

  Maximilian smiled. “We did it again. We almost made a terrible mistake and accused the wrong person, but we worked it out in the end.”

  “And still a night of party-going to enjoy,” said Oscar. “I think we might have earned some of that salmon now, don’t you?”

  Maximilian grinned and the two friends turned to head for the marquee, but Maximilian felt himself lifted into the air.

  “No so fast, Max,” Sylvia laughed. “We have a surprise for you.”

  “You too, puss,” said Agnes, hauling a horrified Oscar into her arms. Maximilian stifled a laugh. He was used to being snatched up by the humans but Oscar looked most affronted.

  At the side of the lake, Lord Fawley stood with his arm round Arabella. The crowd of party guests waited politely, expecting a speec
h from their host. As Sylvia and Agnes arrived, Lord Fawley reached for a champagne glass from a footman waiting nearby.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight a precious family heirloom has been restored to us. I cannot go into the details, but the thanks for this fortunate event are due entirely to these two splendid cats, Maximilian and his friend … erm…”

  He looked at Agnes, but she only shrugged. “We don’t know his name, sorry.”

  “Well, I give you a toast to Maximilian and friend,” finished Lord Fawley.

  “To Maximilian and friend,” repeated the party guests, a little taken aback. They had never been called upon to toast a cat before.

  Maximilian looked across at Oscar and raised a paw in toast to him. “To Oscar,” he said. “A true friend.”

  “Likewise,” replied Oscar.

  The guests drained their glasses and turned to watch as the fireworks on the lake were lit and the sky above Fawley Castle exploded with colour and sound.

  “Where’s your friend, Max?” Sylvia said, loading her case into the car that would take her and Agnes back to London. They had all slept rather late after the party, and the company hadn’t begun to pack their costumes and props into boxes until almost noon. Sylvia bundled Maximilian into the seat next to Agnes, who was lazing in the back, her head lolling on a pillow.

  Maximilian miaowed his “but we can’t go without Oscar” miaow and heard an answering miaow from the inside of the car. A dark shadow in the corner uncurled itself and a green eye winked at him.

  Sylvia looked back at the house and waved at Arabella, who came over to say goodbye.

  “Are you super excited?” she asked. “I’d be over the moon if it were me. Papa is always promising we’ll go but somehow we never get round to it.”

  Sylvia stared at her. “Excited about what?” she said.

  Arabella gasped. “Oh gosh,” she said. “I hope I haven’t let the cat out of the bag.”

  Maximilian let out his “we don’t use that expression, it isn’t polite” miaow but Arabella did not notice. Instead, she turned and called to Lord Fawley.

  “Papa, is the trip meant to be a surprise? I think I’ve just given the game away.”

  They were joined by Lord Fawley and Monsieur Lavroche.

  “Well, you may as well know,” Monsieur Lavroche said. “We have had an invitation from an old friend to join her in Paris this spring.”

  Agnes’s eyes grew as round as saucers. “Paris!” she breathed. “Oh, how romantic. Will we see the Eiffel Tower?”

  Monsieur Lavroche nodded. “I’m sure there will be time for a little sightseeing. I myself intend to visit some of my family while I am there, and I’m sure our hostess will want to show us round her beautiful city.”

  Sylvia’s brow puckered. “Someone we know who lives in France,” she murmured.

  “Madame Emerald!” miaowed Maximilian.

  “Madame Emerald,” said Monsieur Lavroche at the same time. “She wishes to see you all again very much.”

  “Madame Emerald the singer?” Arabella asked, sounding most impressed.

  “She’s Max’s biggest fan,” Sylvia said. “He rescued her from a kidnapper last year and foiled an imposter who was impersonating her. I’m sure she’s going to make a huge fuss of him. He’ll come back from Paris even more conceited than he is already, won’t you, Max!”

  Arabella leaned into the car and stroked Maximilian’s head. “He’s wonderful,” she said. “You’re so lucky to have him.”

  “We are,” Sylvia agreed. “He’s the cleverest cat in the world. We would never have realised what Bunty was up to without him.”

  As they pulled out of the castle gates Agnes said, “There’s one thing we never did solve. How on earth did Bunty manage to make herself disappear that night in the gallery when she was dressed up as the Viscountess?”

  Sylvia puzzled over this. “Any ideas, Max, old thing?” she said, nuzzling Maximilian’s head. “I’ll bet you and your clever friend have solved that one too.”

  Maximilian looked at Oscar, but he only shrugged. “Sorry, old friend, but it was the diamonds or the diary when I jumped into that lake. I thought Arabella would prefer her jewels so I dropped the diary and when I got out of the lake it had blown away. The Viscountess’s secret passageway will just have to remain a secret, unless Bunty ever tells, of course. I wonder if they’ll ever work out how it was done,”

  “Possibly,” said Maximilian. “The humans aren’t always as unintelligent as we think. Not as clever as us cats, of course. We solved another mystery. We’re becoming quite good at this.”

  “And a Paris trip to look forward to,” said Oscar. “Did I ever tell you about the last time I was in Paris…”

  Maximilian smiled. He doubted that Oscar had ever been to Paris in his life, but he settled back in the seat and listened to his good friend tell another wonderful story as the car picked up speed on the open roads and carried them away to whatever adventure awaited them next.

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  The Dramatis Personae was just a fancy way of saying “cast list” in old theatre programmes. They were included so that all the people who helped put the show on could be seen as the fabulous people they were. So here is the list of important people who helped bring Max and Oscar’s latest adventure to you. Please join me in giving them a big round of applause.

  The Extraordinarily Excellent Editors

  Kirsty Stansfield and Fiona Scoble, thank you for taking what I give you and showing me how to make it the best it can be. Thank you for making editing one of the most fun parts of the journey and for the encouraging comments in the margins that make me smile.

  The Dazzling Designers

  Nicola Theobald and Elisabetta Barbazza, thank you for making Max look his absolute best and for covers that make me cheer with delight.

  The Amazing Agent

  Joanna Moult, thank you for championing Max and cheering me on and always being there with great advice and endless support.

  The Astounding Artist

  Nicola Kinnear, thank you bringing Max to life with your incredible pictures. They are always perfect and I love them all.

  The Fantastic Friends

  My gorgeous Prime-Writers, thank you to the best writing group in the world. Thank you to everyone who worked through puzzles and mysteries with me over scones. Thank you to Rebecca Mascull for talking me through how an early twentieth century plane would work (all errors are entirely mine). Thank you to Debbie Moon for taking me round stately homes and listening to me talk about this series seemingly endlessly.

  The Brilliant Booksquads

  Booksellers, book bloggers and teachers who have read Max and shared him with readers, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you do. A special tail-whisk from Max to all of you.

  The Fabulous Family

  Liz (this one’s for you, remember all those ghostly movies we would watch together), Mum, Pete, Rick and Seren, I love you all.

  The Heroic Husband

  Neil, thank you for so many cups of tea, for endless encouragement and for just being amazing.

  Love you. xxx

  So there are my important people.

  Take a bow, everyone. You are all incredible and this book would not exist without you.

  Sarah xx

  Copyright

  First published 2018 by Nosy Crow Ltd

  The Crow’s Nest, 14 Baden Place, Crosby Row

  London SE1 1YW

  www.nosycrow.com

  ISBN: 978 1 78800 052 9

  Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd

  Text copyright © Sarah Todd Taylor, 2018

  Illustrations © Nicola Kinnear, 2018

  The right of Sarah Todd Taylor and Nicola Kinnear to be identified as the author and illustrator respectively has been asserted.

  All rights reserved

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherw
ise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of Nosy Crow Ltd.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book will be available from the British Library

  Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A.

  Papers used by Nosy Crow are made from wood grown in sustainable forests.

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