I had to know. I had to know it was not a neurosis, not an over-strained imagination. I could never sleep otherwise. I was certain someone was prowling in the west wing, and I had to investigate. That determination was even stronger than the fear that caused my whole body to shiver.
Opening the door as quietly as possible, I slipped out into the hall. It was probably Susie, I reasoned, having a clandestine meeting with Johnny Stone … or Brence staggering around in a drunken stupor. The hall was a nest of moving shadows, and it was cold, the wind whistling through the ruins and blowing through the opening. The skirt of my robe billowed. My loose hair spilled over my face in soft waving strands. I pushed them back and crept slowly along the hall until I reached the doorway that led into the ruined wing.
I saw a black sky sprinkled with frosty stars, broken walls silhouetted against it. My pulse was racing, and I felt sure I would collapse with fear. Perhaps I was still asleep. Perhaps this was still part of the nightmare. Stepping over stones, moving alongside half-standing walls, I entered the labyrinth of ruined rooms, jagged walls standing at crazy angles, some completely fallen, replaced by piles of stones higher than my head.
“Susie! Is that you?” I called.
The wind caught the words, shattered them.
“Brence?”
Whispers all around me, but no footsteps now, no sound but the sound of the wind and my own pounding heartbeat. There was someone here. I could sense it. Someone was watching me, waiting. I stopped, leaning against a shoulder-high wall, and then I saw the light. It was very dim, barely visible, a spot of yellow that vanished quickly, swinging out of sight. Someone carring a hooded lantern, I thought. The lights. Johnny had mentioned the lights. The villagers thought the west wing was haunted, but ghosts didn’t carry swinging lanterns.
I felt as though something had called me, but I was awake now, not in a trance as I had been in the library. My conscious mind had given the directions. I listened, and there were no footsteps, no lights, only the sensation of being watched. I could almost feel the eyes touching me, and the fear was tangible, gripping me with physical force.
The ruins were splattered with moonlight. At the end of what would have been the main hall I could see a curving stone staircase climbing up into empty air, broken off abruptly, leading nowhere. Beyond it were dark caves, rooms that had retained their ceilings. The second story had been completely demolished, but part of the first remained, crumbled, shattered, buried in rubble
I stood there for perhaps ten minutes, perhaps two, time without meaning in this eerie world of rubble and ruin, and then I crept forward, frowning. I was not so frightened now. I could have been mistaken after all. I might have imagined the footsteps and the eyes watching me, a continuation of the nightmare that had awakened me. I walked toward the point where I had seen the light. Seen, or imagined I saw? What would anyone be doing in the ruins at this hour? A thief could not hope to find anything here. He would be stealthily hunting the silver in the dining room.
I stepped through a still-standing doorway and found myself in a damp, clammy cave that had once been a room. The sky was gone. The moonlight vanished. Shadows stirred, the wind soaring through the cracked walls with a sound like breathing, heavy breathing, someone leaning against the wall and breathing heavily. It was so real, so … I froze statue-still. It was not the wind. Someone was in the room. I could see a dark form merging into the darkness, the shape barely silhouetted against the lighter darkness behind it. I could feel the presence, the evil, and the eyes were watching me again.
A tremor went through my body. I could feel my knees grow weak.
Please wake up, I prayed. Please, please wake up.
The dark form disengaged itself from the shadows. I heard the pebbles rolling underfoot as it moved toward me. I cried out, but the sound was a tight croak. I managed to turn and stumble toward the door, and then the explosion of pain crashed against the side of my head and lights dazzled me and I went hurtling down into oblivion.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I was drifting through the blackness, floating without effort, and it was pleasant, serene and relaxing. Only on occasion did I surface, and then everything was blurred, colors melting, shapes dissolving. I was vaguely aware of Susie’s face, and someone put cool cloths on my forehead. Oblivion was sweet, and I was free to drift on and on in the calm black world where no effort was required. Later, the voices began to speak, but they were fuzzy and distorted and seemed to come from a long way off.
“She was walking in her sleep. She stumbled and fell, knocked her head against a stone.” It was my guardian. His voice was strained.
Later: “Charles, what if she—”
“Shut up! The maid may return at any moment.”
Time passed, flowing blackly.
“She doesn’t wake up, Madame. She smiles occasionally, and sometimes she looks at me, but she won’t wake up—” It was Susie. “Will she be all right?”
“The doctor says it’s merely a slight concussion.”
Later, much later: “And how is she today?” The voice was brusque and businesslike.
“She sat in the chair while I changed the sheets. She drank the broth and the warm milk. She seemed to relax more after you gave her that drug.”
“She’s coming round. No danger. She’ll have to stay in bed for several days. Complete rest. Absolute quiet.”
Black waves rose and fell, slipping away, and the room was a whirl of blurry colors spinning slowly, growing steady, coming into focus. I was alone. There was a tray by the bedside and a long velvet cord hanging from the ceiling. I closed my eyes and drifted back into the serene black comfort waiting to embrace me.
Jamintha smiled. She was vague and misty, and I knew she was a dream creature, her voice in my mind. “I promised to come. I said we would be together. Don’t worry, Jane. Don’t worry.”
Sunshine spilled into the room, bright and sparkling. I sat up with a start. My forehead was damp and clammy, and my head ached painfully. I was weary, so weary I could hardly reach for the cord and pull it. I felt as though I had been hiking over the moors for days on end without resting. I pulled the cord, and in a few moments Susie came into the room, smiling pleasantly.
“Yes, Miss Jane?” she said. She seemed perfectly normal. There was no concern in her eyes.
“What—what is today?”
“Wednesday, Ma’am. Naturally. Will you be wanting your breakfast now? Cook has made some marvelous scones, and she brought a jar of cherry marmalade up from the pantry especially for you.”
“Wednesday?” I said.
“You’re looking much better this morning. Doctor Green said it would take at least a week for you to get your color back.”
“A week has passed?”
“A week and a half,” she said brightly. “Of course, you’ll have to stay in bed for a long time and build up your strength, but your fever is gone. So is the bruise.”
I touched the side of my head, just above my left ear. It was tender and sore, but not really painful.
“How long was I unconscious?”
“Three days. You don’t remember?”
“I—I wasn’t sure,” I said, trying to hide my bewilderment.
“It’s a glorious day, isn’t it?” she remarked, stepping to the window to relish the sunshine. “Oh, by the way, I gave Johnny your note. He says to tell you he’s glad you’re feeling so much better. It was thoughtful of him to send those flowers. They’re beginning to wilt. I guess I’d better take them out.”
On the dresser set a vase of blue and purple wildflowers, the blooms drooping sadly, a few petals scattered on the surface of the dresser. Susie took the flowers out of the vase and stepped to the door.
“I’ll be getting your breakfast now, Miss Jane. Is there anything else you need?”
“No—no, that will be all,” I replied.
When Susie returned, I asked her to sit with me while I ate my breakfast, and I questioned her carefully, casually, withou
t seeming to do so. She babbled merrily, supplying vital information without being aware that she was doing so. After a while she left, taking the breakfast tray with her, and I thought about what I had learned.
I had been sleepwalking on Saturday night. I had fallen and struck my head on a stone. I was unconscious for three days, but a week ago I had revived, to all appearances completely conscious and coherent. Doctor Green had informed my guardian that I needed absolute quiet and that it might be necessary for me to rest and recuperate for several weeks. Charles Danver had had the bell cord installed in my bedroom. If I needed anything, I had merely to pull it and Susie would come. The rest of the time I would be left alone.
During the past week, I had seen the doctor twice. He was pleased with my condition, pleased with the way Susie was taking care of me. Johnny had sent flowers, and I had written him a thank you note. I had talked to Susie in a totally rational manner. I had even read a couple of books, abandoning the French history for something lighter, novels by Marie Corelli which Charles Danver had purchased at the stationer’s shop in Danmoor.
The week was lost. I remembered none of it. I remembered leaving my bedroom that Saturday night, and I knew I hadn’t been sleepwalking. I remembered the ruins vividly, the fear I had felt, and then everything seemed to blur. A dark form? Shadows? I dimly remembered going into the ruined room. I had heard something, something … beyond that my mind was blank. I didn’t know what had happened, but I was convinced there was another explanation.
I was exhausted and thinking required far too much effort. I closed my eyes, eager to recapture the pleasant oblivion. It was several hours before I woke up again. The sun was going down, the bedroom filled with a golden-red light. Someone was knocking on the door. I sat up, rubbing my eyes. The knocking continued.
“Come in,” I called weakly.
Charles Danver stepped into the bedroom. He carried a parcel wrapped in brown paper. He wore a brown and yellow check tweed suit and a dark yellow vest, and his handsome face was lined with fatigue. His dark eyes were grave as he looked at me, and his hair was as tousled as ever, curling thickly at the back of his neck and tumbling over his forehead. In the confined area of the room, he seemed even larger, his presence overwhelming and disturbing.
“The maid says you’re much better,” he remarked. His voice was heavy, solemn.
I nodded, smiling a feeble smile.
“I would have come to see you sooner. I’ve been very busy at the mill this past week. The men are growing slack. I have to keep an eye on them constantly if I want things to run smoothly.”
Propped up against the headboard, two fluffy pillows behind my back, I looked at Charles Danver with nervous eyes. His presence here made me uncomfortable. He radiated ruddy health and strength. Weak, confined to the bed, I felt vulnerable, at the mercy of a superior force, a small woods creature closed in with a magnificent lion.
“I’ve brought you some more novels,” he said gravely. “Did you enjoy the others?”
“Yes. It was—thoughtful of you to buy them for me.”
He stepped over to place the parcel on the bedside table. He was very near now, his legs almost touching the side of the bed. I noticed the way the yellow vest stretched tightly across the slightly thickening waist, the way his large hands hung at his sides, the powerful fingers loosely cupped. The pungent leathery male odor was strong. I drew back against the pillows, gripping the sheets nervously.
“You seem uneasy,” he said.
“I’m—I’m just so very tired.”
“That’s natural. You’ll be weak for some time. Doctor Green said you were to have no visitors, but I’m breaking his rule. I wanted to see for myself that you were really progressing.”
He had come for another reason. I sensed it.
“Does your head still hurt?”
“It—throbs some. I just want to sleep—”
“I won’t stay long. What were you doing wandering around in the ruins, Jane?”
“I suppose I was—sleepwalking,” I said carefully.
“You don’t remember anything about that night?”
“I don’t remember anything,” I lied. “Susie said I fell down and hit my head.”
He sighed deeply, his chest heaving. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought a look of relief passed over his face. He straightened up and tugged at the lapels of his jacket, ready to leave now. He glanced around the room as though distracted, forgetting all about me. He walked over to the door with a preoccupied expression, opened it and then turned around.
“You won’t be disturbed again,” he said in a bored voice. “You must try and regain your strength. Stay in bed. Rest. Don’t try to get up until you’re absolutely sure you’re ready.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
“The girl will see that you have everything you need. Green says she’s a fine nurse.”
He left. I knew he had come because he wanted to know if I remembered what had happened that night in the west wing. Satisfied that I didn’t remember anything, he had put the matter out of his mind. Was he afraid that I might remember? Did he know what had happened? I frowned, my head aching painfully. Another mystery. Another suspicion. I couldn’t think about it now. Later … later when I felt stronger.
The days that followed were peculiar. I seemed to sleep most of the time, and when I was awake I was still weary, as though I’d had no sleep at all. The headaches continued, a dull throbbing at times, at times excruciatingly painful. I felt foggy and drowsy, disconnected. My dreams were disturbing. I kept seeing a beautiful blonde woman with a strand of stars, and there was a scream, someone running and then … I could never remember the rest of the dream, but it left me trembling. I dreamed about Jamintha, too, vivid dreams that were sharp and clear when I was sleeping, but misty and vague when I awoke.
I saw no one but Susie, and she only came when I rang for her.
She was excited about the fair. The date was fast approaching, and she was looking forward to it with great eagerness. She had made a new dress for the occasion and insisted on modeling it for me. Her tarnished gold curls bouncing, she whirled around, holding out the skirt. The dress was dark gold muslin patterned with tiny brown and yellow flowers, worn over several yellow petticoats. It was extremely tight at the waist and the neckline was decidedly immodest, much too low.
“Wait till Johnny sees me in this!” she exclaimed, admiring herself in the mirror. “He won’t be able to contain himself, and that’s the truth. Do you think it’s terribly brazen, Miss Jane?”
“Well—”
“I worked ever so hard making it.”
“You look charming, Susie.”
She smiled a merry smile and toyed with the full skirt. “I do wish you were able to go,” she said. “I know you can’t, but I’d like to see you enjoying yourself. You just stay in here all alone, sleeping so much, reading those books. Sometimes hours and hours go by and you don’t ring. I worry about you, truly I do. Many’s the time I’ve wanted to come in to check on you, but I was afraid you’d be asleep and I’d disturb you.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Susie, but I do need my rest. Doctor Green says I just require peace and quiet for a while. I’ll get better.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said pertly. “I’ll just go fetch you a glass of warm milk now, Miss. You’re looking a bit peaky, and I’m sure I’ve worn you out with my silly chatter.”
Three more days passed. I did not seem to be improving at all, and Doctor Green came again. He examined me at length, told me there was nothing to worry about and left a bottle of medicine with Susie. I took it dutifully, and it alleviated the headache considerably, although I was still extremely weak and tired. I did not wake up the next day until almost six o’clock in the afternoon. Susie was in a state when I finally rang.
“I put my ear against the door and listened several times,” she said, “and it was so quiet! I could almost have believed the room was empty. You must have slept soundly, Mis
s Jane.”
“It was probably the medicine,” I replied.
“I imagine so. We’ve had quite an exciting day, Miss Jane. I was going about my business this morning, polishing the silver, when—”
I paid scarce attention to her prattle. I was trying to remember the dream. I had been walking through the woods beyond Danver Hall. I had been creeping stealthily down the hall. It had been so real, so vivid, but now it blurred and dissolved and I couldn’t recall anything else. My head was throbbing only slightly, the ache almost completely gone, but I felt weaker than ever.
“—and I stood right there with my hands on my hips and told her, I said ‘Search my room, go ahead, but if you do I’m packing immediately and that’s no idle threat.’ Cook was as outraged as I was. She’s a love, an absolute dear, but when she gets her temper up—”
“What are you talking about, Susie?”
“Cook and I were both ready to walk out, I don’t mind telling you. We work hard, both of us, and we both have to put up with a lot. Cook slaves in the kitchen, and I’m supposed to pick up after everyone and do the dusting and the polishing and the scrubbing and—well, I was simply livid and she knew it.”
“What happened?” I said impatiently.
“Weren’t you listening? Someone stole Madame’s pin money—over fifty pounds, it was. She kept it in a little lacquer chest on her dresser, and when she opened it this morning the money was missing. Had a fit, she did. Claimed Cook or I had stolen it. Let me tell you, that was a mistake! Cook turned red as a beet when Madame demanded to search our rooms, and I told her, I said—”
“Did she search your rooms?” I interrupted.
“Not likely, she didn’t. ‘You open that door, Madame, and I pack up here and now,’ I said, and she knew I wasn’t bluffing. Mister Charles heard all the commotion and came to see what was going on. ‘I’ll not be called a thief!’ Cook yelled, and Madame was almost hysterical herself by that time. Mister Charles had his hands full.”
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