Виктория Холт - The Mask of the Enchantress

He must know that Susannah was dead, and he was a murderer. He was a clever actor. He must be to be able to delude me as he did. He cared for the castle. Of course it was for the castle he had done what he had.

And yet why did he not claim it now?

With Susannah dead, he could inherit. Why had he not exposed me?

Thoughts chased themselves round and round in my head. I did not sleep at all that night. I just lay there tossing and turning, waiting for the dawn.

I was filled with fear. I knew that some terrible climax was about to break.

I saw no one at breakfast. I went out to the woods. I could not face Malcolm. It seemed to me that he, no less than I, had been wearing a mask. When that strong and pleasant face was removed, what was beneath it? Something cold and cunning, shrewd, cruel, sensual and murderous.

I could not bear it. I had been so utterly deceived. I wanted to stop thinking of him, and yet I could not. I had already allowed my feelings to become too much involved. Moreover, I was not merely a girl who had put her trust in a man—a cynical man, capable of the vilest deeds—I was one who was herself tainted by dishonesty.

What a fool I had been! What a tangled web I had woven, and I was at the center of this mystery, intrigue and murder.

I must make things appear normal.

I returned to the castle for luncheon. Malcolm, I was thankful to see, was not there. He had left word to say that he was lunching with Jeff Carleton.

Emerald and I lunched alone.

I listened to an account of her sleepless night and her inability to rest her back. Then I heard her saying: "I've written to Garth to tell him you're here. It's such a long time since he's been. He probably feels disinclined to come here now that his mother has gone."

After luncheon I went out again. I went into the woods and lay there, looking at the castle and thinking again of that magic day of my childhood. I suppose that was when it all started.

But how different I was now from that young and innocent child!

When I went back to the house Janet was in my room putting some things she had washed away in a drawer.

"My goodness," she said. "You look as if you've lost a sovereign and found a penny piece."

"I'm all right," I replied. "I'm a bit tired. I didn't sleep well last night."

She studied me in that way which I deeply resented.

"I'd say you didn't! Anything wrong, Miss Susannah?"

"No," I said blithely. "Nothing at all."

She nodded and went on putting the things away.

I heard the arrival of a rider in the distance. I went to my window and saw Malcolm. He pulled up his horse and paused for a moment looking at the castle. I could imagine the satisfaction on his face. He loved the castle as Susannah had, and as I was beginning to. It was haunted, this castle, haunted by the people who had lived in it—mainly the family of Mateland to which Malcolm, Susannah and I all belonged.

We loved the castle for a hundred reasons, not only because it had been the family home for generations but because of the spell it cast on us so that we would lie and cheat for possession of it—and some of us would do murder.

I did not go down to dinner. I pleaded a headache. I could not face Malcolm ... yet.

Janet brought up my supper on a tray.

"I don't want anything," I told her.

"Come on," she retorted as though I were two years old. "Whatever the trouble, it's best not to face it on an empty stomach."

She was watching me anxiously. Sometimes I thought Janet really cared about me.

The night brought me no comfort.

When finally I reached what should have been blessed oblivion I was haunted by dreams of terror in which Esmond, Malcolm, Susannah and myself were involved.

In the morning I got up early and went down and tried to eat a little breakfast. While I toyed with the food, Chaston came in to tell me that Jack Chivers had come to see me. He was waiting outside and seemed very upset.

"I told him, Miss Susannah, that I would not disturb you at breakfast," said Chaston, "but he said it was so important and about his wife, so he prevailed on me to come to you."

"His wife!" I cried. "Oh, certainly you should disturb me. I'll see Jack Chivers at once."

"Very good, Miss Susannah. Should I bring him in?"

"Yes, please. Immediately."

Jack came into the hall. I took him at once into one of the small rooms. I thought he had come to tell me that Leah's pains had started, and I was worried because the baby was by no means due.

"What is it, Jack?" I asked.

"It's Leah, miss. She's quite upset."

"The baby ..."

"No, not the baby, miss. She says she must see you. She says will you come as soon as you can."

"Certainly I will, Jack. What is it about?"

"She wants to tell you herself, Miss Susannah. If you could come ..."

I was dressed for riding so I said we should go at once, and I rode over to the cottage with him.

Leah was sitting at the table looking very pale and frightened.

"Why, Leah," I asked, "what has happened?"

"It's my father," she told me. "He got it out of me."

"Got what, Leah? What do you mean?"

"He threatened to beat me, Miss Susannah. I would never have told ... particularly now. ... I wouldn't have. But I was frightened ... not so much for me as for the baby. I told him everything and he said he'd get even... ."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him about you ... and Saul."

"What about me ... and Saul?"

"Miss Susannah, he said he'd just about kill me if I didn't tell. I had to tell, miss. I had to because of the little 'un."

"Of course you had to ... but what?"

"I can't make it out, miss. It's like someone else come in her place. It's like you ain't Miss Susannah any more. You're good. I can see it, miss. It must have been a devil what possessed you. It's been drawn out now, ain't it, miss? I know they can do that. You're good now, miss. I ain't never going to forget what you done for me and Jack ... and the baby. Nor will Jack. But I had to tell him. ... I had to tell him what you was while you had them devils in you."

"But what did you tell him, Leah?"

"All I knew... . My Uncle Saul was tormented, he was. He said his soul was lost. He'd go to hell. He used to talk to me. He always talked to me. He's saved me many a beating. He was good, Uncle Saul was ... but there's no standing against the Devil, miss ... and you had the Devil in you then."

"Please, Leah, will you tell me what you told your father."

"It was what Uncle Saul had told me. I'd seen you ... I'd seen you go in the barn together and stay there ... and then you'd come out and you'd be all laughing. It was the devils laughing, I know now, but then I thought you were just a wicked ... wicked witch. And Uncle Saul would be all shining in the face and looking as though he'd been with the angels ... till he remembered and then he was well nigh fit to do away with himself."

"Oh, God help me," I murmured.

"He used to talk to me. He talked to me the night afore he did it. He was in the field working and I took out his cold tea and bacon sandwich. We sat by the hedge and he said to me: 1 can't stand it, Leah. I'll have to get out... I've sinned. Most terrible I've sinned. I can't see no way out. The wages of sin is death, Leah, and I've earned them wages.' That's what he said to me, miss. The Devil tempted me,' he said. And I said, 'Yes. Miss Susannah. She is the Devil.' Then he started to tremble and he said, 1 can't turn away from her, Leah. When she's not there I know it's wicked and when she's there it's only her.' I said to him, 'Ask forgiveness and don't sin again.' He said, 'But I've sinned, Leah. I've sinned as you don't know.' I said, "Yes, you've sinned, but people do sin like that. Look at Annie Draper. She got a baby and after that she married Farmer Smedley and she goes to church regular now and she's reckoned to be quite good. It's what they call repenting their sins. You can repent, Uncle Saul.' He kept shaking his head. Then he said it had gone too far. I had to find some comfort for him. I kept saying, 'It's the same thing, Uncle Saul. Whether it was with Miss Susannah like you ... or a passing peddler like Annie Smedley.' But he wouldn't have it. Then he said this terrible thing. He said, 'It's worse than that. It's worse than fornication and that's enough to send me to hell. It's murder. Leah, that's what it is. She's asked me to help her do away with Mr. Esmond. She can't abide him. She's not going to marry him. You see, she wants the castle but not him.' I said, 'What do you mean? What's castle folks' affairs to do with you?" And he said, 'It's Miss Susannah. I've got to do what she asks. You don't understand. I've got to. I've done it. And there's only one way out.' I didn't know quite what he meant, miss ... not until next day when they found him hanging in the barn."