"Of course."
"And third, you must not follow the passageway in the other direction."
They nodded in unison. I breathed a sigh of relief. "I will not tell anyone about this place," I said. "If you obey the rules. If you do not—"
"We will!" Ned hastened to say. "Oh, we will. Hester—" The boy looked at me and his face twisted as though he were undergoing some inner struggle. "I—I'm glad you came here," he said finally.
I smiled. "So am I," I said. And, though my heart was troubled by the things I'd discovered, I meant it. I was glad to be at Grey Cliffs. I was also afraid.
* * * *
It was several days later that I found myself alone with Ned. Betty had taken the twins off to the village to see some old friends. I sat by the nursery fire, a book in my lap, and Ned played on the hearth with the dog.
"You really like dogs, don't you?" I said.
Ned nodded. "And horses." He looked up, his eyes shining. "They run so fast! It's wonder— Hester, what is it? What's wrong?"
In spite of myself I had let my face betray me. The mention of horses not only recalled my mother's fatal accident but also the incident on the moor. "I—I'm all right," I said.
Ned frowned. "You looked so scared." He thought for a moment. "Hester, are you afraid of horses?"
I thought about lying, but the boy would discover my secret eventually. Perhaps my telling him would engender some trust. "Yes," I said. "I am. Very much afraid."
"But, Hester, horses are so marvelous. So big and fast and—"
"One ran away with our carriage," I explained, "when I was younger than you. And my mother was killed."
Ned left the dog and came to put his arms around me. "I'm sorry. I bet you miss her."
"I do," I agreed. "Very much." I returned his hug. "As you must miss your mother."
The boy stiffened. "I don't—" Then he crumpled. "I miss her a lot," he said. "But I'm not supposed to talk about her."
"You can talk to me," I said. "About anything."
He sniffled. "I don't miss her so much since you came. You treat me nicer than she did." He drew back and looked me in the eye. "Hester, you don't have to be afraid of horses. They don't hurt you on purpose."
Something in the boy's face told me that people had hurt him. And he thought it was done on purpose.
"The thing is," Ned went on. "They get afraid, too, horses do, so then you have to move slowly. Let's go out to the stables. I'll show you and—"
"We'll see," I said hastily. I didn't want to go to the stables. I didn't want to see the new black horse, or any horse for that matter.
"I'd be—"
The twins appeared in the doorway, with Betty behind them. Ned gave me a conspiratorial look. "Just remember," he said and went back to the dog.
And I did remember. I knew Ned had given me good advice, but I did not follow it. I had too much else on my mind to consider my fear of horses pressing. And that was another mistake.
Chapter Twelve
The days continued to pass. The boys kept their discovery of the passageway a secret, even from Betty. I was pleased by that because I didn't see how the little maid could keep such word to herself. The servants were already very superstitious, whispering about seeing the ghost of the old earl and casting fearful looks over their shoulders wherever they went. If it were known, talk of such a passageway would spread rapidly and sooner or later Edward would hear of it.
I did not want that to happen. Things between us had been quite good. Since the day the horseman had attacked me on the moor, Edward had been most attentive. It was true that sometimes he was quiet, moody, even withdrawn. But he was never angry—at least not with me.
Still, much as I loved my husband, my nerves were on edge. I had the weirdest feeling that someone was watching me. Yet when I had that feeling I was always by myself, in my room or some other part of the castle. Sometimes I even whirled, thinking to catch someone there behind me. But there was never anyone there. Always I was alone. And yet always I felt that I was not.
Eventually the strain began to tell on me. One night about a week after the incident on the moor, Edward and I had gone up to our chamber early and were lying in the great bed talking.
Edward touched my cheek tenderly. "Hester, my love, you are looking peaked. Is something wrong? Are you feeling ill?"
"No," I said, pressing his hand to my lips. I paused, but I knew I should go on. "It's just that I have been hearing strange stories—about your father's ghost."
Edward snorted. "You know how servants are. They repeat every ridiculous story—and embellish it, too."
"Perhaps. But that doesn't account for the feeling I have—the feeling that I'm being watched."
His face paled. Even in the candlelight I could see that. "You're letting your imagination carry you away," he said. "No one can be watching you. How can you say such a thing?"
"I say it because I feel it," I replied. I hesitated, then forced myself to go on. "Edward?"
He traced the contour of my cheek, his fingers so warm, so tender. "Yes, love?"
"Do you think— Could it be—" I gulped. "Could your father be—"
Edward clasped me to him and even in my fear I felt my body respond to his. "Hester, there are no ghosts. Surely you know that."
"Perhaps not," I said, my lips against his chest. "But I know how I feel. And last week—on the moor—that was no boy playing pranks. That was a grown man! I know he tried to run me down!"
Edward's hard male body stiffened against mine. The silence in the room lengthened and lengthened. Finally he spoke. "Hester! My darling Hester. You must be mistaken. No one would want to harm you."
He seemed so sure that I did not try to persuade him otherwise. Besides, then he crushed me to him, his mouth covering mine with such passion that my body responded immediately. Still, even then, even as my body heated to his caresses, there remained the niggling questions in the back of my mind.
Why did Edward refuse to believe me? Why did he want to persuade me that I was not in any danger?
But there in his arms I felt so safe, so secure, that soon even the questions were forgotten.
* * * *
When he left my bed next morning, Edward turned to me with a frown. "Hester."
"Yes, Edward?" I stirred sleepily, gazing up at him with a fond smile.
His voice grew stern. "Do not ask the servants any more questions about my father."
"But Cousin Julia says—"
"Forget Cousin Julia!" Edward barked. "My father is dead. Dead!"
"Yes, Edward, I know." I was coming awake in a hurry, losing all my good feelings of joy and love. "But I was only trying to find out what—"
"Hester! Listen to me!" His voice grew harsher, full of rage.
No answering anger rose in me. Rather I felt a coldness sweep over me, a terrible coldness that struck to the bone. In his anger, Edward frightened me.
Thinking to appease him, I began again. "I only want to know—"
Edward turned back to the bed. His fingers closed around my wrist. In one swift movement he dragged me from the bed's safety to stand naked before him, shivering on the cold stone floor.
"No more!" he cried. And he shook me savagely. Once. Twice. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out at this indignity, but still a little whimper escaped me.
He stopped abruptly, his fierce expression fading to one of tenderness. "Hester, please, for God's sake! Don't pursue this thing."
And then to my utter bafflement, he lifted me tenderly in his arms and carried me to the bed, where with the utmost gentleness he put me down and pulled the coverlet up.
He stood, towering over me, a dark, faceless figure with the sunlight behind him. I thought with sudden fear of the horseman galloping toward me across the moor.
Edward was strong, said a voice in my head, a voice I could not silence. So powerful he could have shaken me into insensibility. So strong he could easily have moved the deadweight of an unconscious man.
Trembling overtook me then and I shivered between the sheets that were still warm from his beloved body.
He bent and dropped an affectionate kiss on my forehead, whispering, "God, Hester, if anything happened to you, I couldn't bear it."
A great rush of tenderness enfolded me—and with it a greater sense of shame. How could I have doubted this man who cared so much for me? The man in whose arms I had experienced so much passion? The man whose child might even that moment be growing within me?
Then he was gone, hurrying off to attend to estate business, and I was left to my usual pursuits.
* * * *
Late that afternoon, when lessons were over, I decided to take a short walk. I loved the boys dearly, but their continual company could be trying and sometimes I longed for a little peace and quiet, a little time just to myself.
Since it was late in the day and the light would soon be waning, I decided not to walk through the twisted oaks. Besides, I had no desire to be on the moor again—not alone at least.
But I did feel the need for some fresh air. So I took my hooded cloak from Hillyer and went out, walking around the castle. I had not yet been on the path that led to the cliffs beneath my window, the cliffs that overlooked the sea.
The sea, with its shifting moods, had always fascinated me. And I had always held a fondness for high places. The latter, perhaps, because of having followed a youthful Jeremy up many a tree. So that afternoon I stood entranced on the edge of the grey cliffs that gave the castle its name and stared down at the gleaming rocks below.
The sun had come out from behind the clouds and was lighting the sea. Glistening like ebony beneath the washing waves, the rocks below glowed with shimmering beauty.
But I was not deceived. Beautiful though they might appear, the rocks were also deadly. A slip off that cliff would be the end. No one could hope to survive such a brutal fall. No one.
The sun slid behind a cloud again, throwing the castle and the sea into dark shadow. Where before the sea had seemed inviting, sparkling and beautiful, now it threatened, cold and deadly. Instinctively I took a step backward.
And then I heard it. What sounded like the whine of a shell passing close by my head was followed almost immediately by the report of a pistol being fired.
Without even thinking, I fell to my knees, my heart leaping up in my throat. Thank God for the cloud and its shadow. The instinctive backward step had saved my life. Had I been standing right on the edge of the cliff when the shot startled me—
I sank lower still, huddling against the ground. But I was aware that I was all too visible, my black cloak against the grey rocks making me a clear target. I had no idea where he was and there was no cover near me. Completely at the attacker's mercy, I waited.
But no second shot came. Finally, slowly, I got to my feet and left the cliffs. But I could not leave behind the knowledge that this had been no accident. Someone had tried to kill me. Again!
* * * *
By the time I reached the front of the castle I was out of breath, but my trembling had ceased. I rearranged my clothing and tried to pull my countenance into an everyday expression. If only I had someone to confide in, someone to help me.
Of course, my first thought was to tell Edward, but he was still gone from the castle. And he had refused to believe that the rider on the moor meant me harm. Would he believe that someone had shot at me? Or would he try to pass off this, too, as a youthful prank or perhaps a figment of my imagination? I could not understand why, when he seemed so concerned for my well-being, he refused to acknowledge these attempts on my life.
I reached the front door and gave my cloak into Hillyer's waiting hands. 'The earl has just returned," he said. "He inquired as to your whereabouts."
My heart thudded in my throat. "Where is the earl now?"
Hillyer's expression remained composed. "I believe he went out to look for you."
My heart threatened to leap out of my mouth. Edward had known I was gone out for a walk. Edward could have— Stop it! I told myself severely. Edward would not do such a thing. He would not.
I started up the stairs, intent on reaching my room and freshening up before I faced my husband's discerning eyes. But I was not quite to the top when the front door opened again.
I paused. If I saw Edward, if I felt his strong arms around me, I could shake these nagging suspicions. I started to turn. But Edward was not alone.
"I told you, Robert," he snapped. "Nothing till quarter day. And if you've caused any more trouble in the village, there'll be nothing even then."
The front door closed with a thud. "You're a fool!" Robert cried, his tone sending chills over my flesh. "I'll have what's mine. One way or another, I'll have what's mine!"
I waited no longer, but hurried on up the stairs before either of them saw me.
Was it Robert? Could Robert be trying to kill me? To take some sort of revenge against the brother he thought was keeping his rightful inheritance from him?
But if it had been Robert, why hadn't he finished the job? That day on the moor I had been completely alone, defenseless. The horseman could have returned and easily dispatched me. And on the cliffs I had had no cover. He could have fired a second shot—a second shot that would have surely ended my life.
In the safety of my chamber I washed my face and tidied my clothes. My new gowns were lovely, but I could not appreciate the beauty of the sea-green silk I changed into.
I thought instead about the peculiar inhabitants of this castle. Which of them had stood to gain the most by killing the old earl? Which of them now wanted me and my questions out of the way?
Edward, of course, had been the one to inherit the title. But I refused to consider that the man I'd married, the man I'd come to love, could be a murderer. If a murderer existed in this castle, it had to be someone else.
Robert seemed likely. He was obviously angry at Edward for withholding his allowance. And he was next in line for the earlship. But that did not explain the attacks on me—or the old earl's murder. From what I could gather, Robert had felt some affection for the father that he was so much like. And killing him had only put Edward in power, it had not helped Robert.
I shook the pins out of my hair and began to redress it. What about Cousin Julia? What did she stand to gain? Her position in the castle depended on the present earl's generosity. No laws required those in power to provide for their less fortunate relations. But Cousin Julia seemed to have held a certain affection for the old earl, and surely if she had dispatched him, she would not keep telling people that he had been murdered.
I shook my head in frustration. The whole thing was such a tangle. What about Uncle Phillip? What had he gained from the old earl's demise? As far as I could tell, very little. He was far removed from the line of succession and his pastimes, eccentric as they might be, had so far as I could discern not met with the old earl's disapproval.
There were the servants, too. Of course I could not really imagine that one of them had dared to murder the old earl. Though there was something about Hillyer that inspired a certain dislike in me, I could not picture the man as a killer.
I sighed, inspected my redressed hair in the glass, and rose. I had no proof that the old earl had been murdered. Perhaps all that had happened since was coincidence. Still, my heart told me differently.
Too much had occurred. Someone wanted me to stop asking questions. But how could I? If the old earl had been murdered, the murderer was still at large. And if he had killed once, he might well kill again. I could not allow such a state of affairs to continue. I had the children to think of.
Chapter Thirteen
Satisfied that my appearance gave no hint of this second attack on my person, and wanting to avoid my husband's scrutiny, I went to look for the boys. I found Betty in the nursery—alone. As usual, she was close by the fire, humming under her breath. She looked up from her mending, smiling brightly and nodding. "Milady."
I looked around the room. "Where
are the boys?"
Betty grinned. 'Them scamps is off playing. They likes to play tag in the portrait gallery, it being so long and all. Poor tikes, 'tis hard on 'em now that the weather's turned cold. Boys has such high spirits. They must always be up and doing something, you know."
I nodded, but knew with chilling certainty that the boys were not playing tag in the gallery. They had probably gone into the secret passageway, to play games in the priest hole.
The thought made my heart begin to pound. Edward was already very angry. If he found the boys in the passageway, in defiance of his express orders, he would be incensed. He might even turn the twins out, to live who knew how. I could not allow such a thing to happen.
"Fine, " I mumbled, picking up a candle and turning hastily away. "I'll just go watch."
The portrait gallery was some distance from the nursery and by the time I reached it I was out of breath. It was deserted, of course, gloomy in the scant afternoon light. I hurried up to the painting of the old earl. Glancing around, I made sure there was no servant nearby to see me. Then with one hand I held my candle and with the other I tugged at the portrait.
Slowly it opened. Well back from the portal, a single candle flickered in its holder on the floor. I let out my breath in a sigh of relief. Evidently the boys had gone to the priest hole. With any luck I could get them safely out, undiscovered, before Edward knew anything of it.
Holding my candle carefully, I pulled the portrait closed behind me. The corridor was almost free of cobwebs now, but with the portrait in place the narrow walls closed in on me, making it hard for me to breathe—to think. Under normal circumstances I would not have entered this frightening place alone. But my fear for the twins' future made me braver. I had to find the boys, find them and get them back to the nursery before Edward discovered what they were about.
I had gone perhaps thirty or forty paces, trying to keep my nerves calm, trying to tell myself all would be well, when I heard the noise behind me. First the sound of footsteps. And then a laugh—a sinister, demonic laugh. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and gooseflesh rose on my arms. The ghost! The ghost had followed me into the passageway!
The Haunting of Grey Cliffs Page 10