It was scary to think that in a remote place like this, the majority of the people could turn and attack one. But then if her family members were disappearing, she would also be desperate to find the culprit. They had just chosen the wrong man. The count wasn't responsible—he couldn't be. The old doubt she had laid to rest reasserted itself. He couldn't be; he was too outstanding a man for something like that. It had to be someone else, someone who was praying on this village.
"We are ready," Balog said. "Now we wait."
"Has this ever happened before? That the castle has been attacked?"
"When the count was a boy, the Russian Army came. The castle is strong, but Hungary not so strong. They burned the village, but never made it through the gate."
Estelle shuddered. The only thing that had happened in her village was the scandal when Mrs. Morrison ran off with Mr. Smith. Here, armies came through, countries were built anew and angry mobs attacked castles. This was such a tumultuous place.
"Sit," Balog said. "I will bring you Pálinka."
The last thing she wanted to do right now was drink an aperitif. What she really wanted was to run screaming through the castle, but that wouldn't serve anyone. Grudgingly, she sat down. There really wasn't anything she could do, for now. The count's countenance hadn't changed. He lay on the sofa, exactly as he had before. Now that she was sitting and listening, she could hear his breathing, almost as if he were asleep.
Chapter 32:
* * *
The villagers’ arrival was noisy. Their voices echoed off the walls in the courtyard, and they were soon banging on the main doors. Angry shouts proved their rage. In a way, Estelle couldn't blame them. They had the right to be angry for the crimes inflicted on them; it was just directed to the wrong place.
Saying that, having a baying mob at the door was rather disconcerting. She'd never known a feeling like it, being imprisoned inside with people calling for blood at the door. She had no emotional reference for how to deal with this. All she could do was sit in stunned disbelief. It was the most curious and helpless feeling. Logic could not compete with the anger that was raging in the hearts of the men outside. Right now, they didn't care about right or wrong; they wanted blood, and didn't care so much for justice.
The pálinka sat untouched in front of her. Every sound made her jump. More so when Thomas shot into the room.
"We're here," he said, breathlessly, his cheeks pink from exertion.
"How did you get in?" she said, still not believing they were here. She wasn't alone anymore and that made her feel hopeful.
"Apparently, there's an ingeniously hidden entrance," the professor said as he stepped into the salon, his eyes going immediately to the count, who still lay on the sofa where he'd been placed. Taking a step over, the professor looked down on the unconscious man. "They want him dead," he said.
Relief washed over Estelle. Help was here. This would all be sorted now and the danger would pass, leaving them unscathed. "We must stop this, stop them. You can speak to them, tell them they have it all wrong. They listen to you."
"Do they, though?"
"You have a good rapport with them."
"I do, obviously. They have accepted me and respect me. I'm just not convinced he is as innocent as you so loyally claim."
"He didn't conduct these crimes. It's not true."
"Of course it's true," the professor said with a sneer.
Surely the professor didn't think what the villagers were doing was just. He was a reasonable man, an educated man. "If there is any shred of evidence then a constable needs to be brought to investigate."
"But the old ways are so effective."
It was as if he was talking about some agricultural procedure. "Mobs are never effective. They become incensed beyond reason, uncaring for truth or facts. We brought you here to help," she accused.
The professor turned to her. "The villagers know that with the count gone, these disappearances will cease."
"But as he's not responsible, there's a good chance they won't. Then an innocent man would be dead."
"Believe me, that man was never innocent. He destroys lives. Your head is turned by romantic notions. Women have a tendency to be utterly stupid. A handsome face hides all sorts of monstrous thoughts. He's not going to marry you if that's what you think. Castle and jewels; that's what he tempts with, but he's only using you. You have to understand that. He deserves to die for his crimes."
Estelle refused to be distracted by his personal attacks and whatever he assumed was occurring between her and the count. The similarities to what was occurring was something she could not consider. "He has conducted no crimes. What proof do you have other than your own prejudice?"
Thomas was still and silent behind her. It might have been a grave mistake bringing the professor here and it was her fault. She had trusted him to come and help, but was now wondering if he was set on the opposite.
"In this very house," the professor said. "If this castle was searched properly I'm sure bodies will crop up. You can't hide bodies forever, not even a wife."
"He is not the person responsible for his wife's death. It was someone else." Why was he talking about this now? That had nothing to do with these girls' disappearance.
"Is that what he says, someone came along and killed his wife?"
"Apparently, he knows exactly who."
"Always finds someone to blame."
"He wasn't even here. You might twist things around, but some things can't be argued. She tried to say it was an accident, but people don't fall off bridges."
The professor made a smacking noise with his lips, as if this was all boring him. He glanced over at her. "You should have left," he said. "I did warn you, on several occasions too, but you were stupid and fell into his trap, didn't you? Did he tell you he loves you? That's how he uses women to do his bidding."
"He doesn't use anyone."
The professor snorted. "Of course he does. How do you think he had his wife killed? When it can get back to him, though, he doesn't like getting his hands dirty, instead urges young impressionable girls like you to perform his vicious acts. They'll do anything for him," the professor said bitterly. "Destroys them. And then he leaves them ravished, disgraced and destitute. Do you really think you're the only one? He's done this before, twisting everything around until you believe his mad protestations."
"You're speaking complete gibberish. His wife died because of a jealous woman. The countess was killed because this evil woman wanted her place."
The professor positively growled this time. "She was innocent and she was beautiful, and he destroyed her," he roared. "So thoroughly, she took her own life. Does that sound like evil to you? He did this," he said, pointing straight at the count.
Standing straighter, the professor seemed to draw breath and collect himself after the outburst.
"That's what this is about—Liliana," Estelle said, recalling the woman's name. "You knew her."
The professor gave her a look as if warning her. "He cannot be allowed to continue, when Liliana lies in the grave. My beautiful cousin. No. She was everything light and true. He killed her in no uncertain terms, by his consistent cruelty."
From his own confession, the professor did grudgingly admit that Liliana had killed the countess.
"She killed someone," Estelle stated.
"Under his influence."
"According to him because she was jealous. She tried to force him into marriage through seduction, took such risks as to expose herself in the process."
"Is that what he said? No, he discarded her when he was done with her. Ruined her completely. You think that was an accident? He didn't want his assassin sticking around and tarnishing his glorious name—the esteemed Drezasses. They have always been cruel, for centuries they have been a blight on this country and these people."
The whole scheme fit into place now. "You came here to destroy him."
"I came to expose him."
"You killed those gi
rls."
"No!" he roared, stamping his foot so Estelle violently startled. "He did. Everything comes back to his door."
"I don't believe you."
"Well, you wouldn't. You are under his spell. I had hoped you would be more intelligent, but you're a stupid creature. You should have drunk the wine, Miss Winstone. This would all have been so much easier if you had," he said. Something seemed to shift in his eyes.
Estelle stepped in front of Thomas, holding him behind her. Quickly, she whipped around and crouched in front of him. "Find someplace to hide," she urged. "Somewhere where no one will find you."
Thomas hesitated.
"Now."
"I can fight him."
The click of a pistol sent shivers down her spine, but Estelle refused to look away. "This is not the time for you to fight. Run."
Thomas seemed to consider for a moment, but to her relief, he did as she said.
Straightening herself, she turned back to the professor who was holding a pistol leveled at her. "I wish the boy no harm," he said leisurely. "I didn't wish you any harm either, but you have insisted on putting yourself in the middle. Most unfortunate for you, I'm afraid."
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Me? No, I don't kill anyone. I thought you understood that. I only wish those who do evil to meet their retribution."
A window broke somewhere in the castle, but Estelle refused to shift her eyes from the pistol on her. Her throat had gone completely dry and she was fairly sure the professor was utterly mad. "What are you going to do?"
"Well, they came all this way. It would be rude not to let them in, don't you think?"
"They will kill him."
"No doubt drag him out and hang him. I can't say I'm sorry. Like Thomas, you should run and hide. Perhaps they won't know you're here, or find you if you are diligent."
"You know he's not responsible for the crimes they think he is."
"There may not be any proof, but he is responsible for crimes and it is time he faces justice."
"You can't. It would be murder to let them in. Any grievances you have against him, you need to take up in a court of justice."
"There is no justice when it comes to men like him. They do as they please. Courts do as he wishes. That is the entire point. They are completely above the law, or think themselves so. But crimes cannot go unpunished. Like him, I will not be an agent of my own actions. Instead I will compel others to do my bidding."
"This was your doing," she said, realization finally hitting. "You are the one who has been telling them he's responsible."
"He is responsible. I thought we just covered this. Is your intelligence so poor you cannot remember a truth from one moment to the next?"
"You've been winding them up into a frenzy. Feeding them lies."
"And now it is time to unleash them," he said, as if talking about dogs. "I would run if I were you."
He walked past her and out into the corridor, making his way to the main entrance.
Chapter 33:
* * *
Panic flared in Estelle. She wanted to run after the professor and try to stop him, but she wondered if that was the best course of action. This was like watching a train crash in slow motion. Horrid things were about to be unleashed. Even if she remained unharmed, and that couldn't be relied upon, a travesty was about to occur. The urge to do something, to stop this, ripped through her, but she also felt frozen in shock and horror.
Angry Hungarian was spoken and it was inside the castle. For a moment, Estelle feared the door had already been flung open and a mob would rush into the salon any second, but she realized it was the professor and Balog arguing.
Balog was trying to stop the professor. In her heart, she understood that the professor was incensed enough that he wasn't going to listen to reason. Balog was old and frail, no match for the professor, but maybe this would buy some time.
Perhaps she should sneak up and incapacitate the professor while Balog distracted him. Hit him with something heavy. Quickly, she looked around for a weapon. She would have to knock him unconscious. It might kill him, but that was a risk she would have to take.
There was a vase that looked made of some green stone and she went to pick it up.
The sharp crack of a shot crashed into her ears and she shook with disbelief. The professor had fired his pistol. A crumpling noise came next and it had to be Balog. Estelle's horror only grew. The professor would kill anyone who stood in his way. Dealing with him wasn't an option. He would have that pistol reloaded well before she had a chance to knock him out.
Time was of the essence now if she was going to take any steps. The professor would have to find the key on Balog's body, then unbar the door. God, she prayed Balog wasn't dead.
She had to hide. The mob was coming as soon as the professor managed to open the door.
Running to the count, she frantically tapped his cheek, hoping it would wake him, but there was no sign of consciousness in him. His eyes were glazed and unmoving. The mob couldn't kill him. It would be an injustice on an unprecedented scale as far as she was concerned. There had to be something she could do. There was still time, but she didn't know how much.
Hiding place, hiding place, hiding place, she repeated in her head. It felt like her mind wasn't working, like an old, slow cart horse who refused to move.
There were apparently hiding places all over the castle. The mob would search every room in their frenzy, the only place they probably couldn't would be the hidden corridors. She just didn't know how to get into them. There was one she knew of, but it was in the library. Thomas had told her how to get into it.
The problem was that the library was on the other side of the corridor and the count was heavy. Without thinking further, she dragged the count off the settee and onto the floor. There was nothing for it but to drag him. There was also no guarantee she would get there in time, but she had to try.
The count was much too heavy, but she pulled with all her might, dragging him along the floor by his shoulders. Losing her balance, she fell and had to scramble up again, pulling him by an arm this time as it gave her legs more leverage to push.
Emerging out of the salon she saw the professor down by the main doors, turning the key in the lock. She was running out of time. If he looked over, he would see her and stop her escape, but he was too preoccupied with his task at that moment. She heard the lock slide open, the horrid sound echoing off the cavernous ceiling.
Her fear was that he would hear her dragging the count, but she made it to the other side of the corridor without him noticing. Now she was inside the library, but the count was still visible as she heard the bar being dropped on the floor.
Time was up, he was opening the doors. Pulling harder, she dragged her burden over to the book shelves. She could hear voices now, echoing as the lock had a moment before. It sounded like a dozen, maybe more. The professor spoke and she heard running footsteps.
Her fingers shook as she tried the book Thomas had told her about. If he'd lied, the count was dead and so was she, probably, but it gave, pulled back and she heard a catch give as the book pulled out. A crack in the bookshelf appeared and she had to maneuver the count out of the way.
Surely they were too late. The mob had to be seconds away if not less. She refused to give into the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. Keep going, she told herself. All is not lost until it's lost.
The count appeared even heavier now as she had no momentum to propel him, lying awkwardly as she pulled his upper body into the cavity, then grabbed the material of his legs and rolled him in.
It sounded like the crowd was already in the library and she grabbed the hidden door and pulled it closed. There were definitely footsteps close by now, but she continued to slide it into place until the catch closed.
She'd just shut the secret door with someone present in the library. They could have seen it or not. The library was such a large space they might have been distracted. There was no way of knowi
ng. If she had been seen, they would soon be beating down the door with an axe. She wouldn't know until that happened.
Her heavy breaths echoed off the walls. The space was dark and cold. Cobwebs hung down over her head and the hidden corridor led down into sheer darkness. The only light in the space came from a grill over the bookcase. She'd never noticed it there from the outside, but was infinitely grateful it was there now.
The eerie darkness around them was awful, but it was safe compared to the mob crashing around outside. The splintering of objects breaking filtered through, but she could barely hear over her own labored breath. She had to calm down or everyone would hear her lungs heaving.
Closing her mouth, she tried to breathe through her nose, but she needed too much air. A deep breath allowed her to calm herself a little. The count's head was in her lap and he looked just as peaceful as before, utterly unaware there was an angry mob rampaging through the castle.
The professor was screeching. She heard his voice along with others, and what other violence they were visiting on the count's property. A crash of glass was heard and Estelle knew that was the conservatory. She loved that conservatory and now they had ruined it.
Turning her thought to Thomas, she hoped he was safe. He knew the castle probably better than anyone and he had a capacity to make his way around it. Surely the crowd would not harm him even if they caught him. He was a mere boy. There had to be some voice of reason amongst the villagers that would intervene, even if the professor's madness had no end.
Footsteps sounded nearby. Someone must be walking near the bookcase. For a moment, she feared the professor knew where this passage was. Estelle stopped breathing and tried to listen. Her ears were ringing with the silence and intent focus. What she feared the most was the muted click of the door opening, but it didn't come.
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