Виктория Холт - Lord of the Far Island

I went to that room on the ground floor which led from the hall and which my mother had used and in which I had found her sketchbook. There was a certain comfort in sitting on the old settle and thinking about my mother, who had run away, taking me with her—and thinking of Silva too.

How unhappy Silva must have been when she took the boat out! Was it really a gesture, as the threat to throw herself from the castle walls had been? It was frustrated love. I gathered that much from the notebooks. For the first time in her life she was loved ... or deceived into thinking she was.

Could it have been that someone had pretended to be in love with her... perhaps because she was her father's daughter ... his eldest daughter, who it was thought would inherit the Island; and had that someone discovered that my father doubted whether she was his daughter and had left the Island to someone else... myself?

Jago's face rose before me, intense, passionate, those heavy-lidded eyes which were not always easy to understand. He fascinated me and excited me; I wanted to be with him, to learn the truth about him—no matter how dangerous that might prove to be. I had always been adventurous and never one to take the safe road; and now it was as though Jago was beckoning me to go to him, to discover how far my suspicions were rooted in truth, to find the vital answer to the question: Does he want me or the Island? The answer to that might be that he wanted us both, which I knew he would freely admit. The real question was: Did he want to be the sole possessor of the Island? What did I really know of Jago except the overwhelming truth that he was exciting to know!

I almost wished Slack had not found the boat. How much more comfortable it would have been if I had dismissed the idea that I had seen grains of sugar and there had not been the evidence of that drilled hole.

Don't be a fool, I admonished myself. What's the good of being in love and finding life exciting if someone is planning to remove you from it?

As I deliberately refused to think of Jago as the one who had drilled that hole in the boat, hoping that I would not return, my thoughts went to Michael Hydrock, who had been so kind to me and seemed to enjoy my company so much. What if Michael had been the one with whom Silva had fallen in love? Then I thought of Jenifry and Gwennol, who had shown so clearly that my friendship with Michael did not please them.

Gwennol was a passionate girl. She would love fiercely and hate in the same way. They had the Devil in them, this branch of the Kellaway family—Jago's branch. That was how the legend went. Jago might want the Island but Gwennol wanted Michael Hydrock.

It was all too mysterious and complicated—but I could not rid myself of the thought that I was in danger.

If only my mother had talked to me! If only I had come to the Island earlier, I might have met Silva.

I pictured my mother here in this room, going to the cupboard, taking out her painting materials and then going out to paint a scene of the castle or the Island, or perhaps to do a portrait. Where had she seen the dream room? That was yet another mystery.

And as I sat there brooding I heard a sound and such was the state to which I had reduced myself that immediately a cold shiver ran down my spine. I stared at the door, which was slowly pushed open. I don't know what I was expecting. My fear was due to my conviction that someone was planning to murder me, I supposed, and was therefore understandable. But it was only Slack standing there.

"Oh, it be you, Miss Ellen," he whispered. "I did wonder. I knew someone was here like. It be a good spot to be when there's trouble about."

"What an odd thing to say. What do you mean by that, Slack?"

"Oh, just that it be good to be in this room like."

"What's so special about this room?"

"Miss Silva, her did come here. Her'd come and sit on that there settle, just as you be sitting now. I could shut me eyes and it would be like you was Miss Silva sitting there."

"How did you know she came here?"

"Me eyes did tell me so."

"My mother used to come here too. It seems that it's a sort of refuge."

"What be that, Miss Ellen?"

"A place you come to when you're pondering about something, when you're not quite sure what you ought to do."

"Aye," he said. "It be such a place... ." He paused and wrinkled his brow. It was as though he wanted to tell me something and did not know how to express it.

"Yes, Slack," I prompted.

"You be watchful, won't 'ee?"

"You've said that before, Slack."

"Aye, 'tis so. I know you should be watchful."

"It would be easier if I knew what to watch for."

He nodded. "If you be feared sometimes, Miss Ellen, you come here. I'll be watchful for 'ee."

"Come here? To this room?"

"Come to me first and then come to the room. Then I'd know you was here. That would be best."

I looked at him intently and again wondered if people were right when they said he was "lacking."

"Why, Slack?"

" 'Tis best," he said. " 'Twas what I told Miss Silva."

"So she came here and you came too."

He nodded. "Miss Silva, her trusted me, her did. You trust me too, Miss Ellen."

"I do, Slack."

He put his finger to his lips. "Here," he whispered. "In this room. That would be best."

"Why?" I asked.

"When the time do come."

Poor Slack, I thought, I really believe he is a little mad.

"Isn't it time to feed the pigeons?" I asked.

" 'Tis five minutes off feeding time."

"Then let's not keep them waiting." I stood up.

He smiled and repeated: "When the time do come."

The sea was being roughened up by a wind which was blowing straight in from the southwest and a boat was bobbing about on the waves which were threatening to envelop it. I left the cove and climbed the cliff, where I found a spot among the gorse and bracken. It was easier to think up here away from the castle.

I was wearing a cape of greenish hue which could be a good protection against the wind and if the sun came out I could throw it open; so it was a useful sort of garment. Sitting there, in this green cape, I merged into the landscape.

I watched the boat coming in and as a man stepped out into the shallow water the fancy came to me that there was something familiar about him. I was sure I had seen him somewhere before.

Then I heard Jago's voice and seconds later he rode into the cove and down to the shore.

He cried out: "How dare you come here like this? What do you want?"

I couldn't hear the man's answer. He evidently lacked Jago's resonant voice. I could see that Jago was very angry and the notion that I had seen the man before was stronger than ever.

The wind had dropped for a moment and I heard him say: "I have to talk to you."

"I don't want you here," said Jago. "You know very well you had no right to come."

The man was gesticulating and the wind had started to moan again so that I could not hear what he was saying.

Then I heard Jago's voice again: "I have business to attend to. I'm late now. What can you be thinking of...to come here?"

The man was speaking earnestly and I was frustrated because I could not hear his words.

"All right," said Jago. "I'll see you tonight. Keep yourself out of the way till then. I don't want you seen at the castle. Wait a minute though.... I'll see you in the dungeons. We'll be out of the way there. Make sure you're at the west door at nine o'clock. I'll join you there but you're wasting your time. You'll get nothing more. Where are you going now?" The man said something. "Go back to the inn then," said Jago. "Stay in your room there till tonight. You'll be sorry if you disobey, I tell you."

With that he turned his horse and rode out of the cove.

The man stood looking after him. Then he looked up at the cliff. I shrank into the bracken but I was certain he had not seen me; but as he had lifted his face I saw it clearly and with a sudden shock I realized who he was.