Mary Stewart - Nine Coaches Waiting

The red tail-light struck at my eyes like a dagger.

I said hoarsely: "There. William. Look, there."

He didn't answer, but I knew he'd seen it. Then it vanished and a moment later the blinding white swamped us again. Out into a patch of clear darkness, and then another cloud was on us, but this time thin, so that our yellow-dimmed lights made rainbows in it that wisped away along our wings, and we were through.

The car gathered speed up a steady straight. rise. And the fleeing red light was there, not three hundred yards ahead.

He didn't seem to be travelling so very fast. We were gaining, gaining rapidly. Two hundreds yards, a hundred and fifty… the gap dwindled. We were coming up fast. Too fast.

"It's only a lorry," said William, and lifted his foot.

We ran up close behind it and asked to be by.

It was one of those appalling monsters so common in France, far too high and wide for any road, and far too fast for their size. And it became obvious very soon that this one had no intention of allowing us the road. Ignoring the flickering of our lights it roared along, rocking a little on the bends, but never yielding an inch of the crown of the road.

I don't know how long we were behind it. It seemed a year. I sat with my nails driving holes into the palms of my hands, and my teeth savaging my lip while I stared with hatred at the dirty back-board of the lorry held in our lights. It was carrying gravel, which dripped through the cracks onto the road. Someone had chalked a face like a gremlin on the left-hand panel. To this day I can see the number-plate with the chip off the corner and read the number. 920-DE75… I stared at it without consciously seeing it at all, and thought of the Cadillac roaring on ahead, of Raoul and Léon and the terrible little scene that, unbelievably, was so soon to be acted out in the Valmy library.

I said again: "William…”

“If the Caddy passed him," said William calmly, "we can. Hold on."

There wasn't even a trace of impatience in his voice. He drew out to the left, flickered his lights again, and waited. The lorry lumbered on. We were on an up-grade now, and the lorry was slowing. It held the road, and once again we drew patiently in behind it.

So we went in procession up the hill. A sob rose and burst in my throat and I put the back of my hand hard against my teeth in an effort for self-control.

The lorry slowed, slowed again, and checked as it was rammed into bottom gear. We crawled towards the head of the rise.

The trees that crowned the hill-top swelled into light that soared towards us. Lights were coming up the other side of the hill, and coming fast. Their grey aurora spread, splayed brighter, lifted into gold. The lorry topped the crest of the road, black against the approaching glare, and swung sharply over to its right to make way for the oncoming car.

Our own lights flashed once, and dimmed. Something hit me in the small of the back as the Chevrolet shot forward like a torpedo into the gap.

Lights met lights with a clash that could be felt. Then we whipped to the right almost under the lorry's front bumper. I heard the yell of a horn and something that might have been a shout, but we were through with a little to spare and dropping downhill with the rush of a lift.

"Oh, you honey," said William affectionately to the car, and then sent me a grin. I had bitten the back of my hand but his breathing wasn't even ruffled. "It's nice," he said mildly, "to have the horses…"

The road lifted once more, to shake itself clear of mist. William's foot went down and those horses took hold. My eyes strained through the darkness ahead for that tell-tale light among the trees.

But no light showed till we rounded the curve where the road begins the long drop to the Valmy bridge, and saw the lurch and sway of lights that cut their way up the zigzag nearly half-a- mile ahead.

I must have made some small sound, for William gave me a glance and said: "Don't fret, my dear. They'll talk it over, surely?" But he didn't sound convinced, and neither was I. We'd both seen Raoul's face. And the way those distant headlights now slashed their way up the zigzag was some indication that the mood still held.

I saw them vanish at the top under the château's bright windows. William accelerated, and we shot down the last hill, met a wall of mist bonnet-high, slowed, sank down to second for the turn onto the bridge-and then stopped short, with brakes squealing.

I said breathlessly: "What is it?"

"Can two cars pass on that road?"

"The zigzag? No. But-"

He nodded towards it. I followed his gaze and said: "Oh, dear Lord," on a dreary little sob. A car had nosed its way down off the driveway and was taking the first hairpin with some caution. It got round, and came on its decorous way down…

"Where are you going?" asked William sharply.

I was fumbling with the door. "There's a path straight up from the bridge through the wood… steps… I think I could-"

He reached across and his hand closed over mine. "Don't be silly. You'd break your heart and I'd still be there before you. Sit still."

"But William-"

"My dear girl, I know. But there's nothing else to do." His voice was calm. "Look, he's nearly down. Sit still."

I was shaking uncontrollably. "Of course. It-it doesn't matter to you, does it?"

His eyes were grave and gentle. "And it does to you? It really does?"

I said nothing. The descending car swung round the last bend, and her lights sank towards the bridge. There was mist lying as it had lain that night.

William said gently: "I'm sorry, Linda."

The car was crossing the bridge, nosing through the mist. It paused, and moved out into the road with a lamentable crash of gears. William's hand shifted and the Chevrolet leaped for the gap and went over the bridge with the mist flying out from the headlamps like spray in the teeth of a destroyer.

For a fleeting second before the cliff cut it off from view I lifted my eyes and saw the Château Valmy, brightly lit against the night sky. That was what William meant; I knew it. The castle in the air, the Cinderella-dream-nonsense for a night. Banquets abroad by torchlight, music, sports, nine coaches waiting!

Not for you, Linda my girl. You get yourself back to Camden Town.

The Chevrolet lurched up and round the final curve, and skidded wildly as her wheels met the gravel of the drive. She came to a rocking halt just behind the parked Cadillac.

There was another car in the drive and a van of sorts, but I hardly noticed them. I had my door open before our wheels had shrieked to a stop, and was out and stumbling up the steps to the great door.

Seddon was in the hall. He started forward when he saw me and I heard him say: "Oh, Miss Martin-" but I fled past him as if he didn't exist, and down the long corridor that led to the library.

The door was slightly ajar and a light showed. As I reached it my panic courage spilt out of me like wine from a smashed glass and I stopped dead with my hands actually on the panels ready to push.

Inside the room there was no sound.

I pushed the door open softly, took three steps into the room, and stopped short.

There were several men in the room, but I only saw two of them.

Raoul de Valmy was standing with his back to the door, staring down at his father.

For once Léon de Valmy was not in his wheel-chair. He had fallen forward and out of it onto the floor. His body lay clumsily, pulled a little crooked by whatever harness he wore under his clothes. His head was turned to one side, his cheek against the carpet. His face was smooth, wiped clean of every line and shadow; beauty and evil had emptied themselves from it together. Now there was nothing there at all.

From where I was you could hardly see the blackened hole in the temple.