Виктория Холт - The Mask of the Enchantress

"So I see," said Malcolm.

I looked at him warily. He was the same as ever. None would have guessed that he could be capable of planning cold-blooded murder.

I tried to remember what I had heard of Garth. He was the son of Elizabeth Larkham, who had been companion to Emerald when Anabel lived at the castle. He paid periodic visits to the castle still.

We went in to dinner.

"How did you like Australia?" Garth asked me,

I told him I had enjoyed it till the tragedy.

"The tragedy?" Of course, I thought, he wouldn't have heard.

I said: "The island where my father lived was destroyed by a volcano which erupted."

"That was rather dramatic, wasn't it?"

"It was tragic," I said; and I was aware of the tremor in my voice.

"And you escaped luckily."

"I was in Australia when it happened."

"Trust you," said Garth.

"Now, Garth," said Emerald, "no sparring. I know how you two are when you have been together five minutes."

"We'll behave, won't we, Susannah?"

"We'll try," I added.

He asked several questions about the island and I answered with an emotion which I could not suppress. Then Malcolm changed the subject to that of the castle and we all joined in. I gathered that Malcolm did not like Garth very much, and I fancied the feeling was mutual. Once or twice I caught Garth's eyes on me and he looked as though he were puzzled.

I was getting more and more uneasy, for he was assessing me.

"She's changed," he said at length. "Do you think so, Malcolm?"

"Susannah?" answered Malcolm. "Oh yes, indeed she has. A visit to Australia had a marked effect on her."

"It was a considerable adventure," I reminded them, "and in view of what happened ..."

"Yes, in view of what happened," said Garth slowly.

"Susannah is proving herself to be an excellent custodian ... or should we say seneschal," said Malcolm. He turned to me, smiling. "I must say I was a little surprised."

"You didn't have much of an opinion of me then?" I murmured.

"I can't say that I had. I never thought you'd give the time and thought to the job. I didn't think you'd be interested enough in the tenants."

"So she is proving a model of virtue, is she?" said Garth. "I must say that shakes me."

"Garth, please ..." said Emerald.

"All right, all right," said Garth. "Only I must say that the very thought of Susannah's sprouting wings amuses me. I'll have to get used to it, I suppose. What did you do, Susannah? Turn over a new leaf, repent the folly of your ways ... or what?"

"I am interested in everything about the castle naturally."

"Yes, you always were ... in a way. And now ... coming into possession ... I suppose makes a difference."

Somehow I got through that uneasy dinner hour. As we rose from the table Malcolm said: "I haven't seen much of you these last few days. Where have you been hiding?"

"I haven't been feeling very well," I told him.

A solicitous look came into his eyes. "You involve yourself too much with these people. A little is all very well ..."

"I'm all right," I insisted. "Just a little tired."

I went up to my room.

I was thinking: I can't go on like this. Something will have to happen. I toyed with the idea of going down to Malcolm now and telling him what I knew. Perhaps I should confess to Emerald.

I took off my dress and put on a dressing gown. I sat at my mirror staring at my reflection as though for some inspiration as to what I should do next. The mask of Susannah was still on my face. But I fancied it had slipped a little.

I heard footsteps in the corridor. They paused at my door and it was opened.

Garth stood there.

He was grinning at me. He came towards me and his eyes did not leave my face as he approached.

"I don't know who you are," he said, "but there is one thing I do know and that is that you are not Susannah."

I stood up. "Will you please leave my room," I said.

"No," he replied. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing here pretending to be Susannah? Looking a little like her, yes. But you can't fool me. You're a fraud. Who are you, I say?"

I did not answer. He took me by the shoulders and forced my head back. He brought his face close to mine.

"If anybody knows Susannah, I do. I know every inch of Susannah. Where is she? What have you done with her? Where have you come from?"

"Let me go," I cried.

"When you tell me."

"I ... I am Susannah."

"You're a liar. What's happened to you then? You've become a saint, have you? So good to all the people. Winning the approval of second cousin Malcolm. What's the idea? You say you are Susannah. Then let's continue where we left off, shall we? Come, Susannah, you were never so retiring before. Do you realize how long it is since we were together?" He had pulled me to him and started kissing me ... in a violent, savage sort of way. He tore at my dressing gown. He seemed to be working himself into a frenzy.

"Stop," I cried.

He paused and there was something demoniacal in his laughter.

"If you're Susannah," he said, "show me. You were never exactly shy. Insatiable, that was you, Susannah. You know you wanted me as much as I wanted you. That's why it was such fun."

I cried: "Let me go. I am not Susannah."

He released me. "Ah," he said, "now you are going to tell me the truth. Where is Susannah?"

"Susannah is dead. She died in the volcanic eruption on Vulcan Island."

"And who in God's name are you?"

"Her half sister."

"Lord save us. You're Anabel's brat. Anabel's and Joel's."

"They were my parents."

"And you were with them on that island... ."

"Yes. Susannah came. I went to Australia to attend a friend's wedding and while I was there the volcano erupted. It killed everyone on the island."

"And so ... you took her place." He looked at me with something like admiration. "Clever girl!" he added. "Clever little girl!"

"Now you will tell them, I suppose. I've confessed. And I'm glad. I can't go on with this."

"A good plan," he said, eying me speculatively. "You took possession of the castle, didn't you? One in the eye for Malcolm.

What a joke!" He started to laugh. "Esmond died and that gave the castle to Susannah ... and then little bastard sister comes along and decides she'll have it. I call that rich. I like it in a way. But it's not foolproof, is it, and when Susannah's constant lover and devoted slave comes along he finds a cuckoo in the nest."

I knew then that he was the writer of those letters. He frightened me.

"It was wicked of me," I said. "I realize that now. I'm going to tell them and I shall go away."

"You could be prosecuted for fraud, you little schemer. No, you mustn't confess. That's silly. I shan't give you away. I'll think of some way round this. So she's dead, is she? Susannah! She was a witch. She was an enchantress. You'll never be that, my dear little impostor. You haven't got what she had. Who else ever had? Oh, Susannah ... I was thinking that tonight would be what it used to be. Why did she want to go to that wretched island? ..." He was genuinely moved. He brightened suddenly. "Never let misfortune overwhelm you," he went on. "Never cry over what's done and dead and gone. I'm not going to, I promise you. You've got the castle now. All right then. I might let you keep it ... if you'll share it with me."

"What do you mean?"

"Susannah and I were going to be married when Esmond died."

"You ... you killed Esmond."

He gripped my wrist. "Never say that out loud. Esmond died. He had a recurrence of a former illness. This last time he did not recover."

It was all sickening. I was learning so much, but there was one piece of knowledge which gladdened my heart: I had made a mistake about the man who had written those letters; it was not Malcolm but Garth.