Sarah Rayne - What Lies Beneath

‘Please stop, please …’ she gasped.

He seemed not to hear her; he went on, sweating and gasping. Once she thought he faltered and the feeling of hard intrusive masculinity lessened slightly, but then he gave a bellow of triumph and jerked convulsively. Pain tore through Serena and the shadowy room spun dizzily around her, then she was aware of him lumbering off the bed. She half sat up, pulling the robe around her. Her assailant was crouching in a corner of the room; in the dimness she could see him turning his head from side to side, as if bewildered, shrinking from the thin moonlight and covering his face with his hands.

Something akin to pity sliced through Serena, but moving slowly so as not to alarm him into making another move, she got off the bed, and went to the door. He flinched like a child expecting a blow, but he did not move and she reached shakily for the key, which was still in the lock. It turned, and Serena opened the door and almost fell onto the narrow landing beyond. She pulled the door shut, managed to lock it, and leaned back against it, gasping and trembling. But it’s all right, said her mind. He’s locked in again and I’ve got the key he had. Oh God, how did he get that key? I’ll have to find out about that. But I don’t need to do that tonight. I don’t need to raise the alarm. I can go back to my room.

She went shakily down the narrow stairs and she was almost at the bottom when footsteps came up the main stairway, and Crispian appeared, a mug of something in one hand. He saw her at once, and stopped, clearly puzzled as to why his mother should be coming down from the attics at this hour. As Serena moved forward, Crispian’s eyes widened in horror and she realized, too late, that her robe was torn and her hair was probably in wild disarray.

‘Dear God, what on earth’s happened?’ he said, setting down the mug on the floor and coming towards her. He took her arms. ‘You’re hurt – it’s the intruder come back, isn’t it?’

‘No—’

‘Then what’s happened?’ His eyes went past her to the stair. ‘What’s up there?’ he said. ‘What are you hiding?’

‘Nothing. Crispian, please don’t…’ But he was already ascending the stairs, taking them two at a time, and it was then that Serena realized her own key was still on the floor where she had dropped it. Would he see it? Yes, of course he would. She went up the stairs after him but it was already too late. Crispian had indeed seen the key and he had seen the thick, new-looking lock on the door. He had picked up the key and unlocked the door before Serena could stop him.

She cried out, ‘Crispian – no! Don’t!’ but he was already stepping into the room. Serena saw him pause and peer through the shadowy dimness, and then grope, almost automatically, to find the light switch.

Light flooded the room, and fell cruelly and revealingly across the face of the man who was still huddled in the corner, his face turned away. Crispian gave a start of horror and, as he stood staring, Julius Cadence, his father, gave a cry of anguish and cowered back, covering his face with his hands.

Crispian thought he would be ashamed for the rest of his life of the instinct that sent him stumbling out of the dreadful room. But he had been unprepared for what the sudden light revealed, and such sick horror swept over him that he had to get out at once.

For several moments he was afraid he was actually going to be sick – all that wine at the party! – but he filled the bathroom basin with cold water and thrust his head into it. As he emerged, dripping wet and gasping, he was dimly aware of Flagg’s voice calling from downstairs, and of his mother saying that nothing was wrong, please to go back to bed. He dried his face and hair, his mind still seeing the nightmare thing cowering in the corner of the bedroom, the thing that was unmistakably his father despite…

His face, thought Crispian, horrified. Oh God, what did that to his face?

He took a deep breath, and went along to his mother’s bedroom. She was sitting in the chair by the window, and, although there were marks of strain around her eyes, she seemed perfectly composed. She had put on another robe and was examining her reflection in a small hand-mirror, tucking a stray lock of hair inside a hairpin, as if the only thing that mattered at the moment was her appearance. Crispian saw she was doing what she always did: pretending everything was all right, presenting a determinedly unruffled appearance.

He asked a bit awkwardly, ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m quite all right. But I’m sorry you had to see that, Crispian.’

‘So am I.’ He sat on the edge of the windowsill. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ he said flatly.

‘He has these spells from time to time,’ said Serena defensively. ‘For most of the time he’s perfectly all right. I dare say he works too hard. Cadences doesn’t run itself; you’ve all said that more than once.’

Crispian thought: but Cadences didn’t do that to him. It didn’t turn him into that cringing, hunched-over thing I saw. And his face…

He said carefully, ‘Why does he have to be locked up?’

‘He gets confused,’ said Serena. ‘He’s not a young man any longer. He was over thirty when we married, you know. I was just seventeen – a child bride. People said it was a very romantic match.’ She was watching him from the corners of her eyes to see how he was taking this.

‘He attacked you,’ said Crispian.

‘Not exactly. When he’s confused he mistakes people he knows for enemies.’

‘He’s not only confused, he’s dangerous.’

‘Oh, no,’ she said at once, but Crispian knew she was lying.

‘He must be dangerous or you’d never have made that arrangement about the attic room.’

‘Dr Martlet thought it was best at the times when he’s unwell,’ said Serena. ‘I shouldn’t have gone up there at such a late hour, that’s all. I startled him.’

‘I thought there was an intruder earlier,’ said Crispian slowly. ‘Flagg pretended to search. But it was my father I saw, wasn’t it? How did he get out?’

‘I don’t know. He must have got hold of a key. Perhaps Flagg was careless sometime.’

‘I didn’t recognize him,’ said Crispian. ‘It was dark and he was trying to hide…’ Trying to hide, said his mind. Because his face… Oh God, yes, of course he was trying to hide from the light. He said, ‘How long has he been like this?’

‘I really can’t remember,’ said Serena. It was the dismissive tone she always used if anyone made reference to something she considered indelicate; Crispian knew that tone and he knew there was no arguing against it. But she seemed unharmed and she did not appear especially worried. Was that because she was accustomed to this kind of behaviour? To the fact that her husband had apparently to be locked away for fear he might attack people? It was purest gothic; the mad relative in the attic. But if he really was mad, what was the alternative? Some bleak asylum? And what if it got out that the head of Cadences Bank was locked away, insane and dangerous? Crispian was not sure if he could cope with this.

He said, ‘Would you mind if I talked to Dr Martlet about him?’

‘Must you?’ Alarm showed in Serena’s eyes.

‘I think I must.’

‘Very well, if you feel it’s necessary.’ She got up. ‘And now, I think I would like to go back to bed. We can talk again tomorrow.’

‘Yes, of course.’

As he crossed the room to the door, she said suddenly, ‘Crispian.’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m glad you’re home.’

Entries From an Undated Journal

Everyone was glad Crispian was home. They all danced and fussed round him – you would have thought it was the Second Coming or a State visit at the very least.