Doctor Who_ Ghost Light - Marc Platt [61]
There was a noise from the drawing room. Josiah readied himself to meet his guest.
‘Good evening, Josiah,’ said the Doctor, with a knowing grin. He escorted Control to the table, saw the tureen and hissed to Ace, who had entered with Redvers, ‘Don’t touch the soup.’
Josiah saw Control and exploded with anger. ‘Get that creature out of here! Get it out!’
The Doctor firmly guided Control to a place at the table.
‘Go on Control, knock ‘em dead!’ muttered Ace.
Control looked proudly across at Josiah and enunciated in sedate but gravelly tones. ‘Control has her freeness now, squire.’
Ace cheered. ‘Yeah! I knew you could do it!’
The knuckles of Josiah’s fists whitened with anger.
‘What’s this?’ he demanded.
‘I’m surprised you remember Control,’ said the Doctor.
‘It’s so long since you had her locked up.’
‘Where’s Gwendoline?’ Josiah had endured enough insults from uninvited guests. But before the Doctor could answer, Control cut in. ‘Better orf without you, guv’nor!’
Ace giggled, but Josiah levelled a finger at the real cause of his predicament. ‘You win this move Doctor, but I will riot suffer that animal at my table!’
Redvers had remained silent until now, but there were limits beyond which discourtesy could not be stretched.
‘That, sir, is no way to speak in front of a ladylike,’ he warned.
Josiah looked startled at this reprimand and Ace, loving every minute of the tyrant’s humiliation, chipped in, ‘Oi, Jungle Jim, I’m here too, you know.’
Control nodded graciously to Redvers and reassured her champion, ‘No one hurting Control. Control looking after self, thanking you. Not in gutter now!’ The last remark was aimed at Josiah, who scowled poisonously.
‘Who was it who said Earthmen never invite their ancestors round for dinner?’ pondered the Doctor. He slipped from his place and approached Mrs Pritchard, who had been puzzling over the difference in numbers of places set for dinner and guests who had arrived.
‘Lady Pritchard,’ he said and saw a momentary flicker of recognition in her eyes. He fished the locket from his jacket and handed it to her. ‘I found this. I think it’s your daughter Gwendoline’s, but it’s got your portrait in too.
You see?’
Lady Margaret’s hardened glare seemed to thaw as she gazed at the sepia portraits in their frames. She stepped back in confusion as a long-bolted door in her corridored mind suddenly swung wide open and let in the air and the light. She once had a daughter. Perhaps still...
‘Quite a resemblance,’ added the Doctor. ‘You and Sir George must have had a happy family before the cuckoo invaded your nest.’
A single forgotten, frozen tear melted in her eye.
‘Gwendoline,’ she choked. And worst of all, she had bolted the cold, dark door on her memories herself. She ran from the room.
‘Mrs Pritchard!’ yelled Josiah. ‘You are not dismissed!’
Redvers retaliated instinctively. ‘Let her go, sir. The lioness always protects her cubs.’
Ace had leaned forward to stir the contents of the tureen. Something glinted in the brown liquid.
‘No soup, Ace!’ reprimanded the Doctor. She dropped the ladle.
‘There’s no way out of this for you, Doctor!’ warned Josiah.
The Doctor was unruffled. ‘Oh, I knew it was a trap as soon as I walked into it.’ He indicated the empty place at the far end of the table. ‘Unfortunately, your guest of honour seems to have let you down.’
‘You’ve been blown out,’ jeered Ace. ‘Too bad.’
With a smack, Josiah brought a silver serving spoon down on an iridescent goliath beetle that was crossing the table. ‘Light will come,’ he said.
Instinct drew Lady Margaret up through the house to her daughter’s bedroom. She found a young woman there, sitting forlornly on the bed, but one look at the portrait confirmed that this was indeed her daughter. She called Gwendoline’s name, but there was