"Who are you?" Simon demanded. He'd never seen the girl before. "What happened to Tillie?"
"Oh, sir! Why, she be gone, nigh on four, no five months now, same as t'others."
"What others? Who has gone?" he asked, making the girl more nervous than ever by the question.
"Why, ah, why the young mistress and t'others. The little ones and the Odells. Tillie, too. She went with them when they run away. I weren't here then, not when the accident happened, but I've heard tell 'twas horrible. Why, the cook, she still has nightmares--oh, no! Wait, sir! Ye can't be goin' up there!"
With his long strides, Simon Whitelaw wasted no time in reaching the top of the stairs. He quickly made his way along the corridor toward the great chamber, where he assumed the master of Highcross would be entertaining his visitors. Whether Hartwell Barclay was receiving or not, Simon Whitelaw was determined to have some explanations.
The door to the great chamber was slightly ajar when Simon approached it, and pausing just outside, he stood for a moment and listened to the conversation coming form within, and incredulous expression beginning to form on his face.
"I still think prudence dictates that charges should be brought against the Lily Christian. I have had some dealings in the past with witch trials, and I tell you now that the evidence points very strongly toward her being in league with the devil. A few hours under my questioning and I would have her confession to having practiced witchcraft while under this roof. Naturally, I would expect your cooperation in this matter, Master Martindale. As constable, you would, of course, figure greatly in the proceedings. Your name would become quite well known throughout the shire, indeed, throughout all of England. And, Doctor Wolton, as the family physician, your testimony will be most influential in indicting the witch."
Simon Whitelaw stepped closer and inched the door a shade wider. The footman was standing just inside, waiting for the opportunity to speak. He was partly blocking Simon's line of sight, but glancing around him Simon saw a rather plump, pompous-looking individual, dressed in somber clothing. He was gesturing wildly with his arms as he addressed two women, who were seated before him as if sitting in the front pew of a church. Two gentlemen, nodding their continual agreement, stood near the window.
"I can indeed testify to the strange incantations Lily Christian spoke while feverish just a year ago," the doctor promised.
"And, of course, I have investigated many strange occurrences since Lily Christian and her brother and sister arrived at Highcross," the constable was quick to confirm.
"Oh, Reverend Buxby, 'tis absolutely sinful what she has done," the whey-faced young woman sighed, staring in fascination at the parson. "I am indeed fearful of such bewitchments as you have described. I am certain 'twas she who caused me to fall and break my leg. And, of course, poor Hartwell . . ."
"Now, now, Mary Ann, calm yourself lest you faint from a lack of breath," Mistress Fordham cautioned her daughter, afraid she was going to start hiccupping any second.
"Oh, indeed, Mistress Mary Ann, I am positive she has bewitched this village. I will present such evidence against her that she will burn in the fires of hell!"
"Oh," Mary Ann whispered, catching her breath.
"Does she not have familiars? What of the horse she speaks with and that none but she could ride? What of those wild creatures from the New World where savages worship the devil and all manner of false idols? The unspeakable acts they perpetrate in the dark caverns of the underworld. Lewd dances and human sacrifice!"
"Ooohh."
"Mary! Mary! Calm yourself, now," Mistress Fordham warned her daughter, slapping her on each cheek to bring back the color.
"And how can you explain the ease of her escape?" the Reverend Buxby demanded, his face turning mottled with frustrated rage at having lost his intended victim. "Upon that dreadful night, she jumped upon the back of her familiar and raced into the sky, with lightning and thunder marking her path through the gates of hell. To some far distant place she was spirited. Not a sign of them could we find. Not a word heard concerning them. Not a sighting by any mortal being! Vanished into thin air. We have evidence, right here in this house, of her devilish lusts. To mislead us, she sent her instruments of Satan to mock us in our own house of worship. Upon sacred ground they came! Were we all not there to serve witness to their desecration of our holy place?
"Does she not float on water? Is there not proof of her sorcerer's ways in the heathen charms from the New World she wears with such wickedness? Have we all not heard the incantations she chants to her prince of darkness?" the reverend demanded, then, with hands folded complacently before him, he gazed at the doctor. "You have examined this Lily Christian. Perchance you remember seeing the devil's mark upon her person? It would indeed be irrefutable proof of her guilt."
"Well . . ." the doctor paused, a thoughtful look in his eye. "I might be able to recall such a mark. Naturally, I would have to examine her again."
"Indeed, doctor. Witches are clever at hiding so damning a mark where the devil has touched them. But Lily Christian will not be able to deny her sins after I've applied the proper sort of persuasion. Not many can stand for long having their heads tightly bound or their bodies stuck with pins, unless, of course they are guilty; then they feel no pain. Before I am finished, I would see her and that brother and sister of hers burn!"
"How dare you!" Simon Whitelaw cried out, storming into the room and startling the occupants so by his sudden appearance that Mary Ann Fordham screamed and began to weep hysterically, actually believing it was the devil himself. And even the Reverend Buxby had a moment's horror, thinking he had gone too far in his exhortations this time.
"Really, sir!" the affronted footman began, picking himself up from the floor where the rude young gentleman's shoulder had sent him sprawling. "I must protest!"
Simon Whitelaw ignored the fellow and faced the other occupants of the room, who still remained speechless. His expression was one of outrage as he stared at them. But his gaze centered on one man as he said, "You, sir, have much to answer for! I would have an explanation from you, Hartwell Barclay!"
Hartwell Barclay, sitting in a plush velvet armchair close to the hearth, his leg stretched out before him and supported on a small, upholstered footstool, opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to find anything to say.
Simon Whitelaw turned his wrathful indignation on the Reverend Buxby and the two gentlemen. And when he spoke, his cold, imperious voice sounded like a distant echo of Basil Whitelaw's when presenting a case to those he intended to deliver a scathing rebuttal to. "Before you begin this witch hunt of yours, I would caution you to remember exactly whom you are dealing with. The innocent child you would burn at the stake happens to be my sister, and the daughter of Sir Basil Whitelaw, once the trusted adviser to Elizabeth Tudor and longtime friend of William Cecil, Lord Burghley. My stepfather, Sir William Davies, is a highly placed member of court. My aunt, who happens to be exceedingly fond of Dulcie, is Lady Artemis Penmorley, wife of one of the wealthiest, most influential gentlemen in England. My uncle, Valentine Whitelaw, is one of Elizabeth's favorites and not without influence of his own. A privateer, whose exploits you may well have heard about, he has never had trouble dealing with the enemies of his queen," Simon Whitelaw boasted, conjuring up the image of a bloodthirsty pirate in the minds of the Fordham ladies.
"The witch you speak of has been received at court by Elizabeth. There is even talk that she is considering making Lily Christian one of her ladies-in-waiting. Her majesty would be most displeased to hear such false, slanderous rumors as you are spreading. And Sir Christopher Hatton, Thomas Sandrick-who was aboard the Madrigal when Lily Christian was rescued and is devoted to her-and Philip Sidney are all ardent admirers and would be eloquent, convincing voices raised in her defense. I am certain you know the Sidney name, since Philip Sidney's home, Penshurst, is here in this shire. He is a most respected member of court. I believe he intends to visit Highcross in the near future to see how
the young woman who so charmed him is faring," Simon added for good measure.
"So before you pursue beyond this room this witch hunt of yours, remember the powerful friends of Lily Christian you will have to challenge as well," Simon Whitelaw said, his voice quavering with his rage and fear, but he need not have worried, for his case had been most effectively presented.
Hartwell Barclay finally found his voice. Spreading his hands in supplication, his expression one of confounded innocence, he said, "Please, please, you misunderstand. As I have been trying to explain to the good reverend and the constable, who have my best interests at heart, there was no attempted murder. Good gracious no. The cook, an excitable woman, simply misunderstood when she entered Lily's chamber and found me unconscious in that tub."
When Hartwell Barclay saw Simon Whitelaw's expression, he quickly continued. "Oh, yes, indeed, I can see that you are wondering what I was doing in the dear girl's bedchamber, well, 'tis a long story," he said with a sickly grin.
"Ah, but I have plenty of time, Master Barclay," Simon said softly, causing Hartwell Barclay to reassess his opinion of this young man.
"Yes, well, the girl is prone to nightmares, and I merely had come to see if all was well. Let me remind you, young man, that I am her guardian. Upon entering the chamber, which, unfortunately, was being occupied at the time by young Dulcie and that—that--dog, as well as those other creatures, and the maid, although what she was doing in Lily's bed I still do not understand," he said with a ruminative rub of his chin, "I found myself involved in quite a ruckus. The silly creature thought I was trying to attack her. Bless me, what a fright she gave me when she started shrieking. Sounded like a banshee. Then that dog attacks me. Ought to be shot. Well, fleeing for my life, I stumbled into the tub, breaking my ankle when I twisted it and knocking myself unconscious. I still do not know where lily was during all of the commotion, but I understand she was in the room when the cook came running in, and the woman assumed some foul play.
"Naturally, when I regained consciousness, I told the authorities, who had been summoned by Hollings, the groom, that there had been a tragic misunderstand. Why, we had everything cleared up the very next day," he laughed dismissingly. "However, Lily, the dear child, thinking herself responsible for my death, had fled Highcross with the Odells and that slow-witted Tillie. If she hadn't started screaming, none of this would have happened. But these good people, and only out of their deep concern for my welfare, were hesitant to believe my story. They have had some suspicions in the past concerning Lily. A most eccentric young woman, you must admit. Thought I was merely trying to protect my wards and so they have continued to pursue the investigation of what happened that night. They continued to search the countryside. They questioned everyone. but no one had seen my frightened wards. But, as I was about to say before you entered so suddenly, I really must insist that the matter be dropped in its entirety," he concluded magnanimously. "Don't you agree, Reverend Buxby? Doctor Wolton? Constable Martindale? I wish to hear nothing further concerning this matter. I am certain you will agree with me?"
"Of course! An unfortunate mistake."
"Naturally! No other actions will be necessary. No charges have been filed. There are no warrants for their arrest. Best forgotten."
The Reverend Buxby was the only one who remained ominously still, but Simon suspected it was merely because he'd had all of the hot air knocked out of him.
"The dear girl. Such a tragic accident. If only she had come to me. Why, like a mother I am to her," Mistress Fordham sighed, handing her daughter another handkerchief. "Oh, do be quiet, Mary Ann!" she hushed her weeping daughter.
"B-but, Mama! You said if Lily Christian were out of the way, then I'd get to become Mistress of--"
"What nonsense, child!" Mistress Fordham sputtered, shaking the girl until she stared dazedly at her mother's flushed face. "You are becoming fretful again. I don't know what I am to do with you. Such a disappointment to me, both you and your brother."
Simon Whitelaw continued to stare at Hartwell Barclay, who was wiping the perspiration from his face with an oversized handkerchief. "When did this 'unfortunate affair' occur?"
"Why, uh, not too long ago," Hartwell Barclay answered, glancing around at the others, but they were all busy; the doctor picking lint off his sleeve, the constable straightening his hose with unusual care, while the reverend seemed lost in his next week's sermon.
"Not long ago?" Simon questioned politely. "I would think five months was rather a long time for your wards to be missing. Indeed, I am surprised, Master Barclay, that you have not found the opportunity of informing my family of this situation."
Hartwell Barclay cleared his throat. "I have been desperately ill. Not quite myself since the accident. I had hoped they would return before I had to send such disquieting news to your family." Hartwell Barclay explained. "I fear even to speculate upon what might have happened to the dear children traveling unescorted and unprotected across the countryside."
"You had better have the good reverend pray for you then, sir, as well as for himself and these other good folk, for if anything has happened to my sister, or Lily and Tristram, then you will wish you had died that night," Simon Whitelaw warned the astounded group, and turning on his heel, he walked from the great chamber.
Simon Whitelaw could not get out of Highcross fast enough. He was still shaking with anger when he vaulted down the steps into the courtyard. His horse was still standing where he'd left it, unattended, but as he mounted, a surly-looking groom crossed the yard.
"When I recognized ye enterin' the hall, didn't figure ye'd be stayin' long enough fer me to bother about yer mount," he greeted the young gentleman.
Simon stared down at the man, none too impressed by what he saw. "How perceptive of you."
"Well, don't know about that, whatever it be, but I ain't no fool, that much I can tell ye, and, maybe more, if'n the price was right, of course. A man has to take care o' himself 'cause no one else is."
"Quite."
"Yeah, well, reckon how I pretty much watch the comin's and goin's of anybody visitin' Highcross, I'd be the man with some o' the answers if'n I was asked the right questions," he said with a smug grin as he eyed the finely tooled leather of Simon's saddle. "Reckon a fancy young gentleman like yerself might find that kind o' information of interest. Reckon he might even be real grateful, if'n ye knows what I mean?"
"Hollings, isn't it?"
"Well, now, ye be real smart too. Always thought that about ye, Master Whitelaw. Always figured ye to be the smart one. Not like others I might mention," he said with a broad wink toward the house.
"What exactly can you tell me about the night, and the following morning, that Hartwell Barclay was thought to have been murdered?" Simon inquired as he took a small leather bag from his pocket and casually weighed it in his palm.
Hollings smiled. Wetting the dryness from his cracked lips, he said, after a conspiratorial glance around, "Reckon fer one ye ain't quite as bright as I was thinkin' if'n ye believe the master's tale o' havin' heard that pretty young Mistress Lily havin' a nightmare and wanting' to comfort her"
"You doubt the sincerity of such a statement?"
Hollings stared up at Simon Whitelaw as if staring at some strange creature. "Ye sure we both be Englishmen? Ain't never heard no one speak such words."
"He's lying?"
"Huh? Oh, sure. The master's been tryin' to get into that little lady's bed ever since she come home. Especially of late, since she's got so pretty. Ye oughta see the way he eyes her. Wouldn't mind that fer myself," he wheezed, laughing unpleasantly, but when he saw the expression on the young gentleman's face and realized the bag of money had been moved out of his reach, he hunched his shoulders and glared up at Simon Whitelaw. "Can't hang a man fer his thoughts. But the master, now, I bet if ye was to find the mistress, she might tell ye a thing or two different about that night."
"And where might I find Lily Christian?" Simon asked, lowering the bag close
r to the man's reach.
"Reckon she and them others had to have somewhere to hide, seein' how she thought they were being hunted down fer murderin' the master. And since ye didn't know about what happened until today, figure 'twas exactly what I been thinkin' all along, and the master never sent word to ye. At least, I never was sent to tell any o' ye folks about what happened here. So . . ."
"Yes, go on!"
"So . . . I reckon she went to find ol' Maire Lester. The old woman was the only one who ever cared about them three."
"Of course! The nurse. Lily was upset when she was dismissed. She would go to her for help. She knew that Uncle Valentine was out of the country, and Artemis is in Cornwall, and heavy with child by now, and Quinta is in Scotland. But why didn't she come to me?" he said, thinking aloud. "Of course! I'd told her when last I was here that I intended to study law, but thought I might travel to the Continent first. She didn't realize I'd changed my plans. Damn!"
"Uh, Master Whitelaw, haven't ye forgotten something?" Hollings reminded the young man, who still held the bag of money clutched in his fist.
"Where does this Maire Lester live?" Simon demanded, still holding the money out of the groom's reach.
"Well, I don't know that," Hollings whined, growing impatient, but as the tightfisted young gentleman continued to hold onto his purse, Hollings sighed, scratching his head of dirty, matted hair. "Well, s'pose I do recall her havin' some widowed sister livin' up north"
"Where up north?" Simon prodded.
"Could be Warwickshire."
"The village?"
"Ah, Master Whitelaw, now ye be askin' too much o' me. I can't be knowin' such things."
"IF you think a moment longer. I am certain you will remember, and what name you do give me had better be correct," Simon warned. While he'd been speaking, he had opened the purse and had allowed some of the coins to trickle into his palm.
"Said something about havin' a niece upriver in Coventry. 'Twould take at least a day or two to reach her from the farm. 'Twas just outside o' the village-now what was the name o' that place? A real funny-sounding name, 'twas. Two names? No, three! Like 'twas on something. The river. 'Twas on the river That's it! Let me see."
Wild Bells to the Wild Sky Page 41