Виктория Холт - Menfreya in the Morning

“Now you’re not supposed to talk.”

“I can’t rest until I know. How did you get there, Bevil?”

“I came looking for you.”

“But why ... why …”

“Good God, you don’t imagine I’d let you get lost, do you?”

“But how did you know?”

“Never mind now. I’m here. I found you. And you’re safe.”

“Bevil, you’re glad?”

He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it passionately. No words could have told me more than that quick gesture. It was enough to set me at rest I closed my eyes.

It was some hours later when they recovered Fanny’s body. They had tried to save her but it was impossible.

When they had opened the trap door she had been with me. They had distinctly seen her. She had slipped, they said, and disappeared; but I knew that she had not wanted to be brought out of the cellar alive.

My poor, loving Fanny! When, I wondered, had the madness started to canker her brain? Was it with those early tragedies—the loss of husband and child? Poor Fanny, the gentle murderess who bad killed for love. I had heard of murder for gain, for jealousy, before, ‘but never for love.

And how had Bevil come in time? Because he had not intended to let the matter of the undertaker pass. He was going to find out who sent it; he wanted to know why. He had questioned Hamforth and come to the conclusion that, if he could find the letter, he would have a piece of tangible evidence in his hands, and he would not rest until he knew who had written it.

Jessica remembered seeing Fanny in the hall when she was talking to Hamforth, so Bevil sent for Fanny, who could not be found.

And where was I? Bevil wanted to know. It was soon discovered that I, too, was missing.

Bevil, Jessica and William Lister had sat in the library talking over the affair of the undertaker.

Why, they asked each other, had Fanny done such a thing?

For they were certain it was Fanny, since it seemed very possible that she had taken the letter. And why should she want to if not to prevent its being traced to her? And why should Fanny write such a letter?

Jessica supplied the information that Fanny had been visiting Jem Tomrit and that Mrs. Henniker, bis daughter, was uneasy about it. The old man talked constantly of the past, since he had had that scare seeing ghosts on the island, and it wasn’t good for him. She had always believed that Jem could live to a hundred as far as his body was concerned; it was his conscience that was worrying her—and him—for it wouldn’t let him sleep at night lately. He talked too—wandering in his mind—and had said that he and his mates had murdered some excise men by locking them in the underground cellar and letting them drown.

Bevil said: “We’re going to see Jem Tomrit”

So they did, and Bevil made him talk. Fanny had been asking questions about the house on the island; again and again he had told her the story of the murdered excise men who had been lured into the cellar and left to drown.

“We’re going to the island … gale or no gale,” said Bevil.

He didn’t know, of course, that Fanny’s plan was that we should die together. Bevil merely thought that we had gone exploring and that the snap lock might have shut us in.

Back to Menfreya, to find one of the boats missing. The sea by this time was high, and the tide coming in fast But they came over somehow. Bevil and William lister and Jessica.

And they brought me out in time.

I lay in bed on the island thinking about it. They say that when you drown, your life passes before your eyes in pictures. Well, I had come near to drowning, and now I lay still, thinking of scenes from the past.

Gwennan had gone, and something of the old life disappeared with her. It would be the same with the passing of Fanny.

But Bevil was left to me. I owed my life to Bevil—to his determination, his energy, his will to save me.

Yet … by saving me he would lose Jessica.

That was the thought which uplifted me like a buoy in a raging sea of doubt.

If he had wanted to be rid of me, what an excellent opportunity he had had!

We had to stay the night on the island, for the storm grew more fierce. Never have I heard such wind, never known such an angry sea.

Bevil came to the room to tell me that there was no hope of leaving for Menfreya till morning.

“In any case,” he said, “you’re not fit to go. You have to rest.”

“I slept in this room once before,” I said. “Years and years ago … It was when I ran away from home.”

He smiled at me indulgently. I could see how glad he was that I was safe. “You seem to have a talent for doing crazy things.”

“And the next evening,” I said, “you came over here. Do you remember? You found me under a dust sheet in this very room.”

He wrinkled his eyes, trying to remember.

“You had brought a girl over. I’m afraid I interrupted that little romance.”

He laughed. “What a memory you have!”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“For interrupting then … and now.”

“What, hi God’s name … ” His brow was wrinkled, as though he were truly mystified.

“Jessica is very beautiful and she would have made an excellent M.P.’s wife.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t. It’s odd how people blurt out things at odd moments. While we were coming over in the boat … and I thought we’d never get there and the sea was hell … she told me she was going to marry Leveret That … the marriage was necessarily going to be somewhat soon and quiet.”

“You mean …”

“It’s true. They’ve been using the island as a rendezvous, and that’s the reason for the mysterious lights and figures that have been seen here.”

“So it was Harry!”

“Yes. And she more or less admitted that she’d been helping him for months. A sort of spy in the enemy camp. That time when the boat slipped away it was engineered at Harry’s request, with the help of that old rascal A’Lee … to make a scandal for me … if you please. His tactics will have to be better than that if he ever gets into politics,”

“If,” I said happily.

“Not in Lansella, eh, Harriet Menfrey?”

I could sense his happiness, and it was because I was safe. For a moment I forgot everything else—the terrible loss of my beloved Fanny, the nightmare hours before her death … so much that needed to be explained.

At length Bevil said: “Good God, I believe you thought that I actually …”

“You and Jessica,” I said. “Well, it wasn't such a wild conclusion to arrive at in view of . ..”

He was serious; then he said: “Poor Harriet! I’m afraid you have a lot to put up with. The fact is I’m a very imperfect specimen,”

“L too,” I said.

“Ill take you as you are. Will you, Harriet, take me?”

“It sounds like something out of the marriage service.”

“It’s appropriate. That’s what we’re talking about … being married.”

He bent over and kissed me, and it was as though we had sealed a bargain.

It was sometime afterwards before events fell into place and the picture was clear. I mourned Fanny for a long time—and still do. How I wish that she had not lost her reason. I wish that she could have been the nurse to my children that I always imagined she would be. I think that I could have nursed her through that terrible time if only we could both have been rescued. It was her fear for me which sent her toppling over the edge of sanity into madness. I believe that when her body was poisoned, as it assuredly was, her mind was tampered with too. There was tangible evidence, so we thought, of the desire of someone in the house to kill me, and it was this which had decided Fanny that when Billy was calling her she must take me with her.