Emerald

by Emerald (retail) (epub)

  There was a pitiful sound from outside on the balcony, and for a moment my spine tingled with fear before I realised that somehow Fluffy had been shut outside. Smiling, I went and pulled back the curtain, turning the key in the lock and swinging the door open.

  ‘Come on, puss,’ I said, hesitating as the coldness of the night air gusted in. The silly cat remained where he was, crying for attention, his small white back arched as he stood on the rail, waiting for me to carry him indoors.

  With a sigh, I moved forward. But at the same time Fluffy changed his mind and took a flying leap, landing a few inches from my feet. He was poised for a moment, his bright eyes luminous as they stared at me, and then he was plunging downwards through the large hole that appeared suddenly in the boards. I screamed shrilly and stared at the terrace below, where I could just see the small still body.

  I don’t know who it was who took me inside and closed the door, or who pulled a blanket across my shoulders as I sat huddled on the bed. But a drink was thrust into my hands and, with tears streaming down my face, I obediently sipped the hot liquid.

  ‘Come along, Charlotte; feet up, and I’ll pull the clothes over you.’

  I think it was Wenna who coaxed me into bed, but I kept my eyes tightly shut, and soon a delicious feeling of weariness crept over me and I slept.

  * * *

  My mouth was dry when I awoke, and Greyson, sensing my discomfort, moved from my bedside and rang the bell.

  ‘Charlotte, poor little Charlotte.’ He stared at me from across the room, and his expression was hard to read. ‘Misfortune seems to be dogging your footsteps very persistently.’

  ‘I struggled to sit up. ‘Someone is trying to kill me,’ I said flatly. ‘And last night they very nearly succeeded.’

  He returned to my bedside. ‘Have you any ideas about it? Did you see anyone at all lurking around your rooms?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘I would have mentioned, wouldn’t I?’

  Greyson shrugged. ‘You’ve been behaving so oddly, I don’t really know what to think.’

  I stared at him. ‘I’ve been behaving oddly? That’s rich, that is! Do you deny that it is only since my aunt died that attempts have been made on my life?’ I frowned at him. ‘Come to think of it, as soon as you turned up on the scene.’

  ‘I’ve only your word for that,’ Greyson said calmly. ‘I never saw you in my life before. You could be an impostor, planted by someone in Aunt Grace’s house.’

  I stared at him for a moment, my mouth open, the enormity of what he was saying taking a long time to sink in.

  ‘That’s stupid!’ I said. ‘What about the servants? They knew me.’

  Greyson shook his head. ‘If you were an impostor, you would have paid people well to act as servants for you.’

  I was almost blustering in my indignation. ‘But am I trying to take my own life, then?’

  Greyson stood up and smiled coolly down at me. ‘You must admit to having a remarkable number of lucky escapes, Charlotte dear. Not one of the attempts has been successful, has it?’

  He didn’t wait for an answer, which was just as well, because I was speechless with fury.

  ‘And take those emeralds. They disappeared from the family many years ago, along with the locket that you now wear around your neck and which you lied to me about.’

  My hand went to the thin chain. It was still in place. I leaned back on the pillows and looked up at Greyson.

  ‘Why are you so worried about my identity? Even if I was an impostor, there would be lean pickings for me now that you’ve taken Winston from me. What would I have here at the Plas? Uncle’s charity. Would anyone be foolish enough to act a part for so little gain?’

  ‘You almost make me believe you know nothing more,’ Greyson said, a glimmer of a smile in his eyes.

  ‘What about your conduct, then? Is that what you would call normal?’ I demanded, suddenly coldly angry. ‘First you turned up in the woods where I was attacked, and then when Jess was murdered, you pretended to be hurt when you were not!’ I stared at him, but his expression didn’t change. ‘William had you spotted for a fake straight away, and he heard one of the cutthroats saying you weren’t to be harmed.’

  Greyson’s eyebrows rose, and he tapped his boot as if considering what I’d just said.

  ‘What about your friend Edmund?’ he said suddenly. I looked at him in bewilderment, wondering at the change in the conversation.

  ‘What about him?’ I asked, wishing that I were miles away in the peace and quiet of the rolling hills and fields of Winston.

  ‘Is the man the simpleton he appears, or is he after something?’ He sat down astride a chair and crossed his arms, watching me closely.

  ‘He wants to marry me, that’s all,’ I said wearily. ‘So you see, Greyson, there is no need for me to play a part. I’d have more as Edmund’s wife than I’d ever have as your cousin.’

  ‘Well, we’ll leave it for now,’ he said, rising. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. Your boy friend has gone off this morning without even saying goodbye. I wonder what cooled his ardour so quickly.’

  He threw a white envelope down on the sheets.

  ‘He did leave you this,’ he added.

  I unfolded the paper. It didn’t take me long to read the few untidy lines Edmund had scrawled, telling me he thought it time that Uncle Tom were told of the events that were taking place at Plas Melyn. I looked up at Greyson, wondering if he had read it, and saw from the smile in his dark eyes that he had.

  I bit my lip and crumpled the paper into a ball, throwing it in the direction of the fireplace. It fell short and landed on the floor at Greyson’s feet. He kicked at it contemptuously and turned on his heel.

  ‘I’d take things easy if I were you. Last night couldn’t have been very pleasant for you, whoever planned it.’

  He went out, pulling the door quietly shut behind him, and I clenched my fists until my nails drew blood, longing to strike the smile from his handsome face.

  * * *

  I pulled on my cloak and left the house, my feet sinking into the crisp dry snow. The wind brought tears to my eyes, but I needed to be away from the atmosphere of suspicion that seemed to hang over the house.

  I walked down to the water’s edge, noticing with a sense of excitement that the tide was low, exposing a row of flat steppingstones that led out to the island.

  Quickly, before I could feel afraid, I stepped out onto the first stone, and then there was no turning back. I knew I had to see the place for myself.

  Rapidly I crossed the stones, which were treacherous under the light dusting of snow that still clung to them, and then I reached the island. Close to, it was flatter and longer than I’d first imagined. From the shore, it had looked like a mere hump in the water. The grass was spongy under my feet, but when I pressed forward the ground became hard, and here and there I could see the greyness of rock beneath the coarse grass.

  It took only a few minutes for me to assure myself that there were no crosses, no mysterious openings, and certainly nowhere a woman in a black dress could suddenly appear from.

  Well, at least I had looked; now I’d better get back before the tide came in. The day, which had been dull to start with, began to darken with clouds that threatened still more snow. I stopped for a moment to watch the progress of the clouds as they chased rapidly across the sky, and from a long way off, I thought I heard my name called.

  There it was again – as faint as the cry of a bird, but definitely my name! I turned to look at the shore and was confused by the lighted windows from the house that somehow made me feel very much alone. Then I saw an arm waving frantically, beckoning me back.

  I hurried to the steppingstones and saw, to my amazement, that the water was already swirling around them, sucking noisily at the rocks as momentarily the waves receded, only to return again even more forcefully.

  Quickly I stepped out and almost immediately lost my footing, falling down hard on one knee. I didn’t pause to thi
nk about it. I pushed myself up from the icy water and hurried on, feeling as though there were a dragon at my back.

  I couldn’t blame anyone but myself, I thought ruefully as I fell at last onto the coldness of the shore and lay for a moment in the snow, trying to get hack my breath. I looked toward the house, expecting to see Wenna running down to where I lay, but the gardens were empty.

  I got to my feet and scrambled up the slope. One thing was sure: the voice I’d heard calling was Wenna’s, and I knew I would have a lecture on my foolhardiness. However, she didn’t say a word. In fact, she seemed surprised to see me in such a dishevelled state.

  ‘Charlotte, what on earth have you been up to?’ she demanded, taking my soaking cloak away from me.

  I went to the fire and tried to warm some life back into my numbed fingers.

  ‘You know what I’ve been doing,’ I said impatiently. ‘You called me to warn me that the tide was coming in quickly.’

  Her face was devoid of any expression. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, shaking her head.

  I sat down, my legs suddenly weak.

  ‘Wenna, weren’t you out there on the shore just now, waving to me?’

  ‘I haven’t moved from this room, Charlotte,’ she said faintly. She couldn’t take her eyes from my face, and I knew I must be as pale as she was.

  ‘It was your voice,’ I said doggedly. ‘And then when I looked up, I saw you waving to me.’

  She stood up so suddenly that her sewing box spilled out onto the floor. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea. You’ll feel better with something warm inside you.’

  Her hands were shaking so much she could hardly hold the jug of water, and at last I rose and took it away from her, pushing her back into her chair.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ I said, suddenly filled with a calm I couldn’t begin to understand. ‘And then, Wenna, you must tell me everything.’

  She covered her face with her hands, and I could tell by the shaking of her shoulders that she was crying.

  I handed her the cup and seated myself opposite her, and after a few minutes she pulled herself together. She stretched her hand out and covered mine, her eyes large and luminous, staring at me oddly.

  ‘You are not an impostor, are you, Charlotte?’

  I was too surprised to answer. I just sat there, shaking my head.

  ‘I feel it in my bones, and I’ve told Greyson that. He has to be careful, though, you see; so much responsibility.’

  ‘Wenna,’ I said gently, ‘you are not making sense.’

  The room was growing dark, and I wanted to move away to light the candles. But she still held me in a strong grip.

  ‘My sister,’ she said softly, ‘was your mother.’ I suppose I should have been surprised, but strangely enough, I wasn’t. I just sat looking at Wenna through the gloom, waiting for her to continue.

  ‘I wanted to keep you here and bring you up, but it wasn’t proper; you had to be brought up like a lady, because of your father’s position. Then he died, just after your mother did. I don’t think he could face life without her.’

  I was touched at the emotion in her voice, but I needed facts, concrete evidence to prove to myself who I was and what had been the circumstances of my birth.

  ‘My mother,’ I said, ‘when she died, did she leave any letters? Any documents at all?’

  I knew I was grasping at straws, but I desperately wanted to prove that my parents had been married. I wasn’t willing to accept the stigma of illegitimacy.

  ‘She didn’t have time to leave anything,’ Wenna said simply. ‘She was drowned one day, out there on the island. There was nothing anyone could do.’

  She caught my hand more tightly. ‘She must be coming back to see you.’

  Wenna’s voice was so matter-of-fact that she might have been discussing what meat we should have for our next meal. I tried to see her face, but the room was so dark now that only the glow from the fire relieved the gloom.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I was almost afraid to ask the question, though I almost expected what came next.

  ‘That’s why I’m sure you are no impostor,’ Wenna said gently. ‘The emeralds and the locket. They have been missing all these years, and yet now they turn up unexpectedly. It was she calling you from the shore. She didn’t want history to repeat itself.’

  I jerked my hand away.

  ‘I must light the candles,’ I said quickly.

  The room came to life, and Wenna brushed back the strands of hair that were clinging to her face. I shivered, wondering what she’d say if I told her about the other things that had happened: my escape from the passages, and then the woman, dark hair blowing, standing out there on the island. The cross. The bobbing light. Was it possible I’d imagined it all?

  Wenna was watching me. ‘You’ve seen her other times, haven’t you?’

  There was no point in denying it. ‘I’ve seen someone, I thought it was you.’ I drank my tea quickly, wondering if I was going mad.

  Wenna was about to say more when the door swung open and Greyson breezed in, his cheeks flushed with the cold.

  ‘What an atmosphere in here!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s as if someone had just died.’

  I shivered at his choice of words and looked at Wenna as if to protect her from hurt, but to my amazement, she was her usual serene self once more, her hair smooth and her hands still and tranquil against her dress.

  ‘You’ll need something hot, then.’ She smiled up at him, and he returned her smile, going to the fire and throwing more logs on it, stirring up a shower of sparks as he pushed the heel of his boot against the coals to move them.

  I sat down and stared into my cup. My instinct to get away from the Plas had been a good one. Something very strange was happening there, and I felt that I wasn’t going to come out of it too well.

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to my room,’ I said quietly.

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning after breakfast, Greyson brought me my cloak.

  ‘Put it on, Charlotte. I’m taking you for a drive.’ He smiled at me so charmingly that I immediately mistrusted his motives.

  ‘Why do you intend to take me out?’ I spoke more curtly than I’d meant to, but his expression didn’t change.

  ‘Dear Charlotte,’ he said, ‘you accept invitations so charmingly.’

  ‘What gives you the impression I’m accepting?’ I asked, turning my back on him and walking into the drawing room.

  He came after me. ‘Well, look, the sun is coming out and the snow has started to melt. Surely you would like to enjoy the countryside?’

  I gazed through the window; the sun was gilding the water of the estuary so that it looked like gold.

  ‘Drives with you into the country seem not without their dangers,’ I said, and shivered, as I could see again in my mind’s eye Jess in my green velvet, dead on the road.

  ‘Look upon it as a challenge,’ Greyson said. ‘I am going to see some old friends of Father’s. They remember the family well – all the family.’

  I couldn’t fail to see the significance of his words, and I turned to look at him.

  ‘You think they’d recognise me from when I was a baby? They would have to have extraordinary powers of memory for that.’

  ‘Are you coming or not?’ Greyson said, his eyes watching my every move.

  ‘I’ll come,’ I said quickly. ‘I may learn something to my advantage.’

  ‘Such as what?’ Greyson asked coolly.

  I took my cloak from his hand and walked past him.

  ‘If we don’t start soon, it will be too late to travel anywhere,’ I said, and led the way out into the yard, where the coach was waiting.

  For some reason, Greyson chose to sit next to me. We seemed isolated from the rest of the world, and I felt a lift of my heart as his hand accidentally brushed against mine.

  ‘It’s a great pity,’ he said, half turning to look at me.

  I looked away from him through the window to
where the mountains rose above the road in sparkling white splendour.

  ‘What is a pity?’ I asked, though somehow I already knew what he was going to say.

  ‘That we should have met in these circumstances.’ He took my hand deliberately, and his fingers were gentle and firm. ‘I think I could easily fall in love with you, Charlotte.’ His voice was soft, and I was acutely aware of his nearness.

  ‘Is that your idea of a compliment?’ I tried to sound angry, but my voice would hardly function.

  ‘What are you, Charlotte – innocent or merely a victim of circumstances? That’s what I’d like to know.’

  I drew my hand away impatiently. ‘If only I knew what you were talking about!’ I felt the hot colour rise to my cheeks. ‘What should I be guilty of? Please let me into the secret.’

  He sighed, but didn’t move away, though I tried to get right into the comer of the seat. My heart was beating hard, and tears burned behind my lids.

  ‘It will be all right if old Mrs Grifiths can tell me that you really are Charlotte; then I’ll confide in you. I’ll tell you everything I know myself.’

  ‘How can she prove anything?’ I asked, bewildered. ‘I’ve lived in Winston with Aunt Grace for as long as I can remember.’

  He took my fingers in his once more. ‘She’ll know,’ he said, ‘and until then, we might just as well enjoy our day out. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘I agree,’ I said ruefully. ‘I don’t see there’s much else I can do!’

  The coach jerked to a halt, and the horses pawed the ground, scenting water.

  ‘Here, let me help you down. I think you will like eating in this tavern. It is reputed to be several hundred years old.’

  We went inside; across the roof stretched great thick beams of wood darkened by smoke and age. The walls were of thick rough stone, and a glowing fire filled the enormous hearth.

  ‘It’s lovely!’ I said, and meant it.

  I was hungry, and the chicken pie had a warm mouth-watering crust that melted between the teeth. Greyson smiled encouragingly, and I couldn’t resist a jibe.