Виктория Холт - The Mask of the Enchantress

"He's dead," he said quietly.

There was a terrible silence in the barn. The light from the lantern shone on that macabre scene. From the rafters the horrible scarecrow dangled, his face turning towards us ... with the red gash in its face where the mouth should have been.

And on the floor lay Garth.

Jacob Cringle covered his face with his hands and began to sob. "I've killed him. I've killed him. I've done murder. 'Twas Satan's work."

Malcolm said nothing for a moment. I thought the terrible silence was going on and on. It was like a nightmare. I could not believe it was real. I was desperately hoping that I should wake up soon.

Then Malcolm spoke. "Something has to be done ... and quickly."

Jacob lowered his hands and stared at him. Malcolm was pale; he looked grim and determined.

"He's dead," he said. "There's no doubt of it."

"And I killed him," whispered Jacob. "Damned forever, I be."

"You killed him defending yourself," said Malcolm. "If you hadn't killed him he would have killed you. That's self-defense and no crime. We have to act quickly. Now listen to me, Jacob.

You've let your lust for revenge get the better of your good sense. You're a good man at heart, Jacob, and you'd be a better one if you were not so self-righteous. We've got to act at once. I've thought of this rather quickly, so it may have flaws. On the face of it, it seems it might work. You're going to help me."

"W-what, sir?"

"After tonight you shall have a lease on the farm for yourself and your children, and you shall have the equipment to make the farm prosperous again. This lady is not Miss Susannah Mateland. She has been masquerading as the owner of the castle. You will understand in due course. But there could be trouble. A man has been killed tonight and no matter how it happened there will be questions asked and blame attached. You and I are going to set fire to this barn, Jacob. We are going to wipe out all trace of what happened tonight. Well leave the lantern here among the hay. The fire has to seem accidental. Two people are going to appear to have died in the fire. Garth Larkham and this lady. This will be the end of Susannah Mateland as well as Garth Larkham."

He turned to me. "Listen carefully. You will go back to the castle, take as much money as you can lay your hands on. Take my horse, not your own. Leave yours here. Try not to be seen, but if you are, act naturally. Don't let it be seen that you are riding my horse, so don't take it to the stables. Tether it in the woods while you return to the castle. When you have taken the money come back to my horse and ride to Denborough station. It is a distance of twenty miles. Stay at the inn there and leave my horse. I will collect it tomorrow. Take the train to London. There is one at six in the morning. And when you are in London you will assume your real identity ... and lose yourself."

I felt desperately unhappy. My masquerade was over and so was everything that was worthwhile to me. I could hear the coldness in his voice. He despised me.

He had, of course, every reason to. But at least he was giving me a chance to escape.

He said: "Give me that ring you are wearing."

I stammered: "My father gave it to me."

"Give it to me," he went on sternly. "And your belt and your brooch."

With trembling fingers I drew them off and gave them to him.

"They will provide some evidence of your presence here in the burned-out barn, even though they won't find your body. Well, Jacob, what do you say?"

"I'll do as you say, sir. 'Tis true I had no intent to kill him. It just went off."

"I think he intended to kill you, Jacob, to silence you forever. Give me the pistol. It comes from the castle. I'll take it back." He turned to me. "What are you waiting for? Count yourself fortunate. It's time you were off."

I moved away. He called after me: "You know what to do. It's imperative not to make a mistake. Get out ... unseen if you possibly can ... and don't forget, take the six o'clock train to London."

I stumbled out as though in a daze. I took his horse and rode back to the castle.

No one saw me as I went to my room. Janet was there, looking very agitated.

"I sent him off after you," she said. "I showed him Jacob's note and told him who you were."

"Oh, Janet," I said, "it's the end. I'm going away ... tonight."

"Tonight!" she cried.

"Yes. You'll hear what happened. Garth is dead. But it's all going to seem different from what it actually was. And I'm to go right away ... away from you all, Janet."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you can't. It wouldn't work if you did. I've got to disappear and people have to think I was burned to death in the barn with Garth."

"I don't understand all this," said Janet.

"You will... and you'll know the truth. It's the end. It has to be the end. I must obey him. He said I was not to delay but to get away quickly. I must go. I must take what money I can. I'm going to London. I have to make a new life for myself."

Janet ran out of the room while I collected what money I could. It was not a great deal but with care it would last a few months. Janet came back with a bag full of sovereigns and a cameo brooch.

"Take them," she said. "And let me know what happens. Write to me. Promise. No ... swear. Always let me know where you are. The brooch was given to me by Anabel. It'll fetch a nice little bit."

"I can't take this, Janet."

"You can and I'll be mortally offended if you don't. Take it ... and let me know where you are ... always."

"I will, Janet."

"That's a solemn vow."

She put her arms round me and we clung together for a few moments. It was the first time I had ever seen Janet show great emotion.

Then I left the castle. I went to that spot where I had tethered Malcolm's horse. I stopped only for a moment to look back at the castle shimmering ghostlike in the moonlight.

As I turned and rode away I saw a conflagration on the other side of the woods. I could smell the acrid burning and I knew that the barn was now on fire. It was destroying the evidence of what had happened that night. Garth was dead; Susannah was dead. The masquerade was over.

Three months have passed.

I suppose I am not unfortunate. Mrs. Christopher is good to me. I arise every morning at six-thirty, make her tea, take it in to her, draw the blinds and ask if she has had a good night. Then I have my breakfast, which is brought to me by one of the maids, a little grudgingly, for she does not see why she should be asked to wait on the companion. Then I help Mrs. Christopher with her toilet. She is crippled with rheumatism and finds walking painful. After that I take her out for her morning ride in her Bath chair. I walk along the promenade, for we are in Bournemouth, and she stops and chats with acquaintances while I stand by and sometimes get a bleak good morning addressed to me.

Then I take her back. And in the afternoon while she rests, I exercise the pekinese, who is a bad-tempered creature and about as fond of me as I am of him, which means there is a state of armed neutrality between us which could break into open warfare at any moment. I go to the lending library and choose books—romantic tales of love and passion—which please Mrs. Christopher. These in due course I read to her.

So the days drift by.

Mrs. Christopher is a kindly woman who tries to make life easy for those about her; and I appreciate this, having spent three weeks in the employ of a rich dowager in Belgrave Square. I was what she called her "social secretary," which consisted of a variety of tasks, all of which were expected to be performed with the utmost speed and efficiency all at once. I think I might have endured the work but what I could not stand was the dowager's imperious temper. So I resigned and by great good luck found Mrs. Christopher.