The Irish Witch

by Dennis Wheatley

  Others declared that to continue the fight would result in civil war, and that now he had been deposed as Emperor he had no right to demand their allegiance.

  At that he burst out furiously, ‘You want repose! You are seeking peace for your own ease, but the army is still loyal and will obey me.’

  ‘No,’ retorted Ney bluntly. ‘It will obey its commanders.’

  At that Napoleon gave way in despair. The Marshals trooped out of the room and Roger went with them. He had seen enough to know that anything he had meant to say was now redundant. The attitude of the Marshals made it clear that they would no longer lead their men into battle; so Napoleon was finished. With these welcome tidings he returned to Paris.

  On that same day, April 6th, Talleyrand submitted to the Chamber a Constitutional Charter, which was duly adopted. It summoned to the throne Louis Stanislas Xavier, brother of the late King, on his swearing to adhere to the constitutional rights and liberties of the people, contained in the document.

  After further negotiations with the Allies concerning conditions, Napoleon signed an abdication in accordance with their wishes. He was to keep the title of Emperor, but—at the insistence of the Czar, in preference to various other places suggested—exiled to the island of Elba with his own guard of four hundred—later increased to one thousand—troops. The Empress was to be given three Italian duchies, and her son would bear the title of Duke of Parma, that being the largest of the three. An annual income of two million francs was to be divided equally between Napoleon and Marie Louise and two and a half million francs allotted to the other Bonapartes between them.

  Louis XVIII, then fifty-nine years of age, was immensely fat and severely afflicted with gout. Just at this time he was suffering so greatly from a bout that it was impossible for him to leave England. In consequence it was arranged that his brother, the Comte d’Artois, should enter Paris as his representative and Lieutenant General of the Kingdom on April 12th. The ratification of the Treaty of Fontainebleau, as Napoleon’s abdication was termed, was fixed for the 11th.

  Roger, relaxed and happy now that peace had at last been restored after all these years, was greatly looking forward to getting home and henceforth leading a life of carefree ease. But he decided to stay on for a week or so in Paris, to witness the entry of the Comte d’Artois and join in the celebrations of the Restoration.

  He was not destined to do so. On the 9th Lord Castlereagh arrived to sign the Treaty on behalf of Britain, on the 11th. That night he attended a reception given by the Czar at Talleyrand’s. On seeing Roger he came up to him and said, ‘Before I left London the Duchess of Kew came to see me. She had reason to believe that I should find you here, and asked me, if I did, to give you this letter.’

  Having thanked the Foreign Minister, Roger tore the envelope open. It contained only a brief note:

  ‘Roger my Heart,

  ‘I am distraught with worry. I have reason to believe both Susan and Charles have fallen into evil hands and are in great peril. I beg you, by your love for me, to hasten to my assistance without a moment’s delay.

  ‘Ever your Georgina.’

  Half an hour later, in one of Talleyrand’s coaches, drawn by six horses, Roger was on his way to Calais.

  23

  Lost, Stolen or Strayed

  The speed with which the coach covered the one hundred and fifty miles to Calais served no useful purpose, because when Roger reached the port a storm was raging. News of Napoleon’s surrender had reached the city two days earlier and now that the war was over Roger had no need to seek out a smuggler; so had the weather been even moderate any skipper would have been willing to run him across the Straits for a few gold pieces. But a fierce wind, coupled with a Spring tide, rendered any attempt to cross the Channel suicidal.

  Angry and intensely worried, he drove to the best inn, ate a belated breakfast; then, not having slept during his journey, went straight to bed. When he woke late in the afternoon his mind immediately resumed the futile speculations with which it had been plagued all through the night.

  What could be the trouble that had caused Georgina to send for him so urgently? Into whose hands had Susan and Charles fallen? At first, the coupling of their names had puzzled him, because he had believed Charles to be with Wellington’s army somewhere in south-western France. But only through Charles could Georgina have learned that from the Pyrenees he had returned to Paris at Talleyrand’s request, and so might be found through him by Lord Castlereagh. Charles could have sent her that information in a letter, but it seemed more probable that, for some reason, he had gone to England. But why should the two young people be in peril? And from whom, or what?

  In vain Roger racked his brains. The answer to this mystery could be found only across the Channel, and one glance through the window showed that while he slept there had been no improvement in the weather.

  It was not until the afternoon of the following day, the 11th, that the sea subsided to an oily swell. Regardless of price, Roger had already arranged for a yacht, said to be the fastest in the harbour, to take him over, and the wind being favourable it arrived off Dover in the early hours of the morning. But the customs men at Dover having for so long had no dealings with French vessels, Roger’s landing was delayed until, by threats of reporting this obstruction to the Admiralty, a senior official had been got out of bed and taken responsibility for his being allowed to come ashore. By the time he had roused an innkeeper, hired a coach and been driven to London it was well past midday.

  Feeling certain that, having sent for him, Georgina would not be in the country but hopefully awaiting his arrival in London, he had himself driven straight to Kew House. He proved right in that, and was shown up to her. Dishevelled and unshaven as he was she gave a cry of joy when he entered her boudoir, ran forward, threw her arms about him and burst into tears.

  ‘There, there, my sweet,’ he soothed her, clasping her to him. ‘I would have been here two days since, but for the accursed weather. Tell me now, what has occurred to cause you such distress?’

  ‘’Tis Susan and Charles,’ she sobbed. ‘They are both become Satanists.’

  ‘Oh, come!’ he expostulated. ‘That is more than I can credit.’

  ‘’Tis so,’ she insisted. ‘There is no other explanation for their conduct.’

  Putting an arm round her waist he led her to a sofa, pulled her down beside him and said, ‘I beg you, my love, calm yourself and tell me all from the beginning.’

  Dabbing at her eyes with a scrap of lace handkerchief, Georgina drew a deep breath, then said more quietly, ‘’Tis all the fault of that little vixen, Jemima, Maureen Luggala’s daughter. I could kill her. Soon after Charles went to the war she and Susan became bosom friends. When we were in London they went everywhere together. Scarce a day passed without their seeing each other. The girl had good manners, an amusing if somewhat bitter wit, and her name had never been linked with any scandal, so I made no objection to their friendship. Then in February Lady Luggala decided to return to her home in Dublin for a while, and invited Susan to go over on a visit. To pleasure Susan I had had Jemima to stay both at Stillwaters and Newmarket, so ’twas only a return of hospitality, and Susan had never been to Ireland. I agreed to her going with them.

  ‘The visit was to have been for a fortnight, but early in March Susan wrote to me that she was enjoying herself so greatly in Dublin that she wished to stay on a while longer. I replied that she could, but must be back by the middle of the mouth, to choose stuffs and have her clothes made for the coming season. She replied, again postponing her return. I wrote insisting that she should be back by the 24th. Then, to my amazement, she defied me and calmly stated that ’twas her intention to pass the summer in Ireland.

  ‘On the day that I received her missive, Charles arrived unexpectedly from France. The Duke had sent him home with despatches describing d’Angoulême’s enthusiastic reception in Bordeaux. Naturally he was upset by Susan’s behaviour and wrote to her himself. A reply
came four days later, but not from Susan. It was from Lady Luggala, and when we read it we were both amazed and horrified.

  ‘She blamed herself bitterly for not having taken more serious notice of the way in which the two girls had been spending much of their time. They had become interested in mesmerism and were regularly attending meetings of a society to do with the occult. Susan had said nothing to her of my letters telling her she must come home, and she had been happy to have her stay on. Then, when she learned what the girls had been doing she had forbade them to go to further meetings. To her utter consternation they then revealed to her that they had both been initiated and had become witches themselves.’

  ‘God’s death!’ Roger exclaimed. ‘I no longer wonder at finding you in such a state.’

  ‘But even that is not the worst,’ Georgina began to sob again. ‘There was a violent quarrel, the girls refused to listen to reason. They packed their things and, although Maureen Luggala did her best to prevent them, they left the house.’

  ‘What, to go to this witch?’

  ‘One can only suppose so. But that is not all. When we read Maureen’s letter, Charles was distraught. He left immediately for Ireland, to go in search of Susan and bring her back.’

  ‘That must have been three weeks ago. Surely by now he would have traced the girls. What news has he sent you of his endeavours to do so?’

  ‘None. And ’tis that which puts a crown upon my misery. After some days, hearing nothing from him, I wrote to Lady Luggala. Her reply reached me early this month. She said he had not been to her house, and she has heard nothing of his being in Dublin. He, as well as both the girls, has completely disappeared. In my extremity my thoughts naturally turned to you. Charles had told me that, when you left him at the Duke’s headquarters, you were about to return to Paris and stay again with Talleyrand. It was common knowledge that Lord Castlereagh was crossing to France to sign the Treaty, so I asked him to take my note to you. From fear it might fall into wrong hands and so blacken Susan’s reputation I dared not give particulars of this awful business, but I knew that my appeal to you would not be in vain.’

  ‘I lost not a moment. In fact I left in the midst of a reception and, as I have said, would have been here early yesterday but for the weather.’ Roger paused a moment, then went on with a frown, ‘That two credulous young females should have allowed themselves to fall under the spell of some evil woman of strong personality is deplorable, but not remarkable. It is Charles’s disappearance that is so inexplicable. Had he been a courier or servant and met his death in an accident, little notice would have been taken; but as an Earl his death could not fail to have been reported in the news sheets.’

  Georgina sighed. ‘Alas, there is a possible explanation, though the thought of it fills me with horror.’

  ‘Whatever it may be, you must tell me of it.’

  ‘When I showed him Maureen Luggala’s letter about the two girls having become witches, he made a confession to me. The autumn before last a friend of his introduced him to an occult circle known as the New Hell Fire Club. He said that he took no particular interest in the ceremonies that were performed there, but joined the club for the excitement of participating afterwards in orgies in which partners were drawn by lots and both men and women remained masked. After midnight on last year’s New Year’s Eve he left a ball that I gave in Berkeley Square to attend a meeting of the club. Unknown to him Susan also left the ball with a Captain Hawksbury. She was under the impression that he meant to take her for an hour or two to a normal private party, but he took her to this club.’

  ‘What!’ Roger exclaimed, his blue eyes flashing with anger. ‘By God, I’ll kill him for this.’

  ‘You are spared the trouble. He was killed last summer in a brawl. But fortunately Susan came to no harm. Before the orgy was due to start, the witch who ran the place stripped herself naked and began to perform some lecherous act with her high priest and a negro. In horrified disgust Susan demanded that Hawksbury should take her away. He refused. There was an altercation. She was masked, but Charles was near by and recognised her voice. After a fight, by a miracle he got her out of the house.’

  ‘Praise be for that! But what you tell me explains your fear for Charles. He may have told you that he joined the Hell Fire Club only for the excitement of having masked women who neither needed elaborate courting nor were ordinary whores, out of reluctance to admit that he had actually become a Satanist.’

  Georgina nodded. ‘Yes. That is the thought that so appals me. He may have found the girls with the witch and been persuaded to join them.’

  ‘Think you this Lady Luggala was telling the truth and the whole truth, in the letters she wrote you? What sort of woman is she?’

  ‘I have no reason to doubt it. She is the widow of an Irish baronet and, I should say, comes herself from a reputable family. She is about my age and quite good-looking, but self-centred, somewhat vain and not overburdened with brains.’

  ‘It seems then reasonably plausible that she would not have concerned herself greatly about the girls’ doings, so allowed them to go where they pleased, with no more than an occasional question.’

  ‘I am sure that is so from her attitude toward her daughter. Jemima was much the stronger character, and had quite a temper. Susan once told me Maureen often let Jemima have her own way rather than risk a scene.’

  ‘Then, apart from negligence, it would appear that no blame in this awful affair attaches to Lady Luggala. But I shall want her address, so that I may call on and question her as soon as I get to Dublin.’

  From a casket on a nearby buhl table Georgina took a packet of letters, and said, ‘Here are those from Susan as well as Maureen Luggala’s. You had best read them all.’

  Roger did so in the sequence of the dates on which they had been written. As he handed them back, he remarked, ‘There is something about Susan’s last letter that strikes me as a little queer. It is her usual scrawl, so they were all penned by her without a doubt, but somehow the phraseology strikes me as out of keeping with her character, and she does not show the great affection we know her to have for you.’

  ‘That struck me, too,’ Georgina nodded. ‘In fact, when I received the last one from her I re-read them all, and I had a feeling that it might have been dictated.’

  ‘’Tis just possible. You say this girl Jemima has a very strong character, and has great influence over her. If they have been monkeying with mesmerism she may have achieved control over Susan’s mind. I’d not be surprised if that were not the root of the whole trouble.’

  Changing the subject he went on, ‘I’d be on the Bristol coach this evening had I not been away all these months from poor little Mary. As things are, I know you’ll understand if I delay to spend tonight with her, and set out for Dublin tomorrow. How fares it with her, or have you not seen her recently?’

  Georgina hesitated a moment. ‘Until this present trouble arose I’ve not been in London since January. And I did not run across her during the little season. I gather she goes very seldom into society these days.’

  ‘Ah, well, it will be a fine surprise for her that I am come home at last, and now the war is over soon be able to settle down with her for good. I’ve kept the coach I hired below, and if you’ll forgive me, sweet, I’ll now be on my way to Richmond.’

  ‘If you must, dear heart, but you have travelled overnight from Dover, and will be travelling again tomorrow. ’Tis not for selfish reasons I suggest it, but would it not be best for you to dismiss your coach and take mine later? Meanwhile, lie down and nap in a bedroom here for an hour or so, then let me send you on your way fortified with a good meal.’

  Although Roger had managed to prevent himself from being seasick during the crossing, he had felt far from well, and the hours of jolting in the hired coach had fatigued him, so he saw the sense in Georgina’s proposal and smilingly agreed to it.

  No sooner was he stretched out on a bed than he fell sound asleep, and would have slept on h
ad not Georgina come to wake him at three o’clock. Over their early dinner they agreed not to mention Susan or Charles, and he gave an account of his last, hectic days in France before Napoleon’s abdication. By four o’clock they had taken a fond leave of each other, and he left Kew House in her coach.

  In a little under an hour the coach was within a hundred yards of Thatched House Lodge. Putting his head out of the window, Roger called up to the coachman, ‘Drive straight into the stable yard, then you can water the horses and take a mug of ale with my man before you drive back.’

  At the sound of the horses’ hooves on the cobbles of the yard, old Dan Izzard came running down from his quarters over the coach-house, and as Roger alighted cried happily:

  ‘Why, bless me, ’tis the master! I been hopin’ now the war be over ye’d soon be home agin.’

  Roger shook the smiling ex-smuggler warmly by the hand. ‘’Tis good to see you, Dan, and soon now you’ll be sick of the sight of me for ever lounging about the place. How is Her Ladyship?’

  The smile left Dan’s wrinkled face, and his glance shifted slightly as he replied, ‘Oh, she be pretty well; but I don’t see much o’ her these days. She don’t ride no more and scarce ever drives out. The horses be eatin’ they’s heads off.’

  During his drive from London Roger’s mind had been entirely occupied with worry about Susan and Charles, so he had thought no more of Georgina’s vague reply to his enquiry about Mary. Now, with a frown, he turned quickly away, strode across the yard and entered the house by the back door.

  A maid was sitting knitting in the kitchen. She came quickly to her feet, and he acknowledged with a nod the bob she made him, then walked through the dining room to the drawing room. There was no-one there. Crossing the hall, he looked into the small sitting room. There was no-one there, either. As he turned away, his housekeeper, Mrs. Muffet, came down the stairs. Her eyes widened on seeing him, then she forced a smile and greeted him pleasantly. He also forced a smile as he replied, then asked curtly: