by Deryn Lake
Anger possessed the lieutenant; anger that he had been foolish enough to get himself into this position; anger that Edward Jarvis had probably seen through his masquerade and at any moment would set upon him. Then he thought of his credo, that provided the majority benefited in the end it mattered little how the ends were achieved. Pulling a pistol from somewhere deep in his disguise, he put it to Edward’s head and hissed, ‘Count yourself dead if you so much as sneeze. As far as I’m concerned you can keep quiet for the rest of this journey.’ Then he brought the butt of the gun down on the hapless man’s skull and watched as Edward silently fell from his horse onto the cliff path. Looking hastily round, Jekyll saw that he had been unobserved and without even pausing continued his journey downwards to the beach.
The galleys were coming in from the offshore lugger and the lieutenant saw the men break cover and begin to run into the shallows to grab the long rope. He realised that the other carts were beginning to rumble forward and he followed suit, wondering how long it would be before somebody found the unconscious Edward.
The sea was washing round the cart’s wheels and the sound of men heaving barrels out of the surf drowned every other noise, so that when a pair of hands abruptly dragged Jekyll down from the cart and onto the sand he was totally taken by surprise. He looked up to see Edward, blood streaming down his face, raising his bat aloft.
‘I don’t know who you are,’ the smuggler said savagely, ‘but nobody does that to me. When you wake up, my friend, you’ll be with Davy Jones.’
The lieutenant knew no more as Edward’s bat crashed down onto his head, knocking the sea and the sky and the stars into one great whirring mass of oblivion.
Forty-two
Suddenly high summer came to the village and valley. In the early mornings fingers of mist lay over the land telling of the great heat to come later in the day and, as the sun rose in splendour, the landscape was bathed in a sharp, brilliant light in which, by afternoon, it was almost too fierce to venture forth. The dark woods were drenched in sunlight and larks rose high in the summer air above the hot cornfields. Only the clear-flowing river, dappling coolly over stones and moss, retained its sharp, fresh currents and chill little ripples.
The residents of the palace remained in the shade. Philadelphia, wearing muslin and a straw hat, swung gently to and fro in the arbour, George, sweating profusely beneath his wig, pushing the swing in a somewhat bored and distracted manner. Lucy sat in the shadow of the trees, reading aloud to her father who slept with his mouth wide open. Beneath the great oak, Nizel could be spied painting more slowly than usual, while Thomas, clad, for him, in the total disarray of a short coat, breeches and cap, played tennis half-heartedly with his brother the Vicar of Mayfield, who had come to call.
Pleading that she must get more air, Henrietta requested a carriage be brought round and, kissing Lucy firmly on the cheek, said that she really did not need anyone to accompany her and stepped inside, telling the coachman that she would like to catch the breeze that blew on the high ground above Sharnden. Once out of sight of the palace gates, however, Henrietta announced that she had changed her mind and that she would pay a call on Mr Langham. And there she proceeded in what she hoped was reasonable secrecy.
The footman who answered the door directed her to wait in an ante-room and it was from the elegant silence of this chamber that Henrietta distinctly heard a murmured conversation in the saloon, followed by feet hurrying up the curving staircase, and then a door opening and closing upstairs. She smiled to herself. It would seem that Nicholas was right and that Jacob Challice was hiding out at Luckhurst Hall.
A few moments later the door opened and John Langham hurried in, apologising for not receiving her at once. With a great show of innocence, Henrietta replied that she hoped it was not inconvenient as he obviously had other callers and, when he protested that he was alone, looked surprised.
They then proceeded into the saloon and awaited the arrival of the tea tray, and it was not until this ceremony had been enacted that Henrietta finally said, ‘Mr Langham, I have come to hold you to a promise you made.’
He looked slightly puzzled. ‘What promise was that, Miss Trevor?’
‘You once told me of a technique in which your patients entered a dream state, and agreed that one day you would conduct the experiment on me. I am wondering if, as we are all staying indoors to get out of the heat, this afternoon might be possible?’
John Langham hesitated, then said, ‘Miss Trevor, before I consent to do so I think I should warn you that, since we spoke last, there has been a new development involving this technique. A development that I do not consider completely without risk.’
Henrietta looked puzzled. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr Langham.’
‘I do not understand completely myself.’
‘Can you describe the development to me?’
John Langham proceeded to tell her about his experiments, omitting to say who the subjects had been. Henrietta’s face grew more and more incredulous as he spoke, until she finally burst out, ‘But that is against all the teachings of the Church, Mr Langham. How could such a thing be possible?’
‘I have thought about that too, my dear, and I think there is a solution.’
‘Which is?’
‘That if it is so, if a human soul really does experience more lives than one, then perhaps each life is an effort to draw nearer to perfection.’
‘And if that fails, if only a meaningless life is led, the soul must come back and learn everything all over again?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered John Langham, leaning back in his chair. ‘But it would make an enormous kind of sense.’
There was a long pause during which Henrietta stared out of the window at the golden afternoon, wondering if she had ever seen such a sight before with eyes that had once belonged in a different face. Finally she said, ‘Have you experienced this phenomenon yourself, Mr Langham?’
‘Alas not.’
Henrietta stared at him. ‘But you say it is likely we meet the same people again? That they are our companions throughout the entire journey?’
‘Certain indications lead me to believe this, yes. It is possible that promises made, oaths sworn a thousand years ago, might yet be kept.’
Henrietta stood up, a look of determination about her. ‘Mr Langham, I am so intrigued that I implore you to try the technique with me. If there is an element of risk, then I can only say that every time one journeys forth in a carriage after dark one hazards.’
Both thought of Challice at these words and Henrietta wondered if he sat upstairs, hidden from the world, but knowing she was there and longing to see her; while the surgeon hoped that the highwayman would not be so foolish as to show himself.
Langham stood up too. ‘Miss Trevor, we will conduct the experiment. I am afraid that I am very easily persuaded.’
She smiled as they went through to his private room and he drew the curtains against the brilliant day. At once the place became like a mysterious cool cavern, one shaft of light, full of whirling specks, throwing a splash of gold onto the Turkey carpet. John’s writing desk suddenly seemed to loom large and heavy in the gloom and it was almost a relief for Henrietta to lie prone upon the sofa and close her eyes, wondering as she did so what strange journey she was about to make.
The surgeon’s voice, with its vibrant, insistent quality, began to penetrate her consciousness and Henrietta frowned to herself. The experiment was not going to work. For some reason she was going to find it impossible to participate in the extraordinary sequence of events which John Langham had described to her.
She heard him give instructions and vaguely tried to follow them, thinking there was little point in saying it was no use until he had finished speaking. She thought, too, that there seemed no purpose in moving when it was so much easier and more practical to remain lying down. In fact the warmth and comfort of staying still began to sweep over her until she no longer had any wish to get up.
She gasped and heard John say, ‘What is it, Henrietta? What can you see?’
From Miss Trevor’s mouth a gruff voice answered.
‘I can see Jenna. I am seeing her as if for the very first time. I always thought her a beanpole but I was wrong. She is beautiful, glorious. I realise now that I love her.’
‘Who are you?’
‘Benjamin Mist, carpenter of Maighfield. And she is Jenna Casselowe. I must marry her, I have to marry her. She is my soulmate and at last I know it.’
John Langham watched in disbelief as over Henrietta Trevor’s well-brought-up features came an expression that combined not only love and adoration but also the dawning of desire.
‘Is such a thing possible?’ he murmured to himself as Benjamin Mist, talking through the girl, spoke the first hesitant words of village courtship.
*
Henrietta recognised the writing on the letter at once. She also recognised the same dirty urchin, who this time came to the door of the palace and for his trouble was rewarded with food from the kitchens, there being leftovers of the evening snack — some game pie, a pudding with a suet crust containing pigeons and liver, and a dish of kidneys and oysters.
The child, having washed this down with ale and finished off with apple tart and cheese, left the palace with his stomach bulging, while the note was taken up to Henrietta on a silver salver, where she sat playing backgammon with the Baker family.
Lucy, ever observant, noticed that Miss Trevor — who had returned late from her afternoon drive looking somewhat pale — did not break the seal but kept the letter intact to read in private. At that Miss Baker leapt to the conclusion that Nicholas Grey was corresponding with her young guest, and hoped fervently that no unsuitable love affair was about to take place.
But Henrietta gave no hint as to the identity of her mysterious correspondent, despite several bright-eyed glances from Lucy, and when the company finally made for their various rooms at eleven o’clock, Miss Baker had to content herself with being enormously intrigued. A situation made even worse when next day she swept into the breakfast room, full of morning sunshine and the smell of toast, to discover that Henrietta had not yet returned from her early ride.
In a rare moment of annoyance, Lucy turned to her sister-in-law and said, ‘I cannot think what possesses Henrietta sometimes. Why, she seems hardly to enjoy our company, she is out and about so much.’
‘I envy her,’ answered Philadelphia, sighing. ‘If I did not suffer so with nervous attacks I should spend far more time out of doors. Wouldn’t I George?’
He patted her head without looking up from his newspaper. ‘Yes, my dear. Certainly. Of course.’
Furious, Lucy answered, ‘But Henrietta is a guest here. You might think she would spend a certain amount of time with her hosts.’
‘She does,’ said Thomas, coming into the room yawning. ‘She beat me at backgammon last night. You can’t blame the girl if she wants to get out on her own sometimes. It must be fairly repressive at Glynde with nine younger children and a widowed mother for company.’
‘Far less repressive,’ answered Lucy sharply, ‘than being stuck in Mayfield with a family of eight to bring up.’
They all looked at her astonished, except for George who still had not emerged from behind his paper.
‘It’s a good thing Father can’t hear you,’ said Nizel eventually, breaking his customary silence.
‘And why is that?’ His sister’s chin was dangerously high.
‘Because he would be bound to remind you of your duty.’
‘Duty be damned,’ shouted Lucy, rising to her feet and throwing her napkin on to the floor in disgust. ‘I have given all of you the best years of my life. I have sacrificed everything only to see two sisters marry before me and two brothers not bother to marry at all, so comfortable is it for them to be waited on hand and foot by that maid-of-all-work, that drudge, that less than the dust creature — Lucy Baker. Now get on with it, all of you. I am ordering the carriage and going out for the day. Philadelphia, you are in charge of running the house. Good-morning.’
And with that she swept out leaving behind her a sea of astonished faces. George lowered his paper, aware of the sudden silence. ‘Anything wrong?’ he said, and was more than mortified when Philadelphia, in a noisy flood of tears, threw her spoon at him before slipping slowly beneath the table in a dead faint.
*
Challice was waiting for her as Henrietta had known he would. There, in the midst of that tidal wave of blue, his black-coated figure stood beside his horse, looking anxiously about him. When he saw her, he ran forward, his arms outstretched. They kissed eagerly and Challice drew Henrietta down to sit beside him in a little glade by a quiet dew-pond.
‘Are you hurt?’ she said. ‘I have been so worried ever since I heard you were shot.’
‘I’ve recovered,’ he answered. ‘It was bad at the time but Mr Langham took the bullet out for me. Though say nothing of that or a good man might be in trouble.’
‘I shall say nothing,’ Henrietta answered, and then laughed. ‘But I knew you were there anyway.’
‘How?’
‘Nicholas Grey told me. And beside I called at Luckhurst Hall yesterday and sensed your presence in the house.’
Jacob sat up straight, looking puzzled. ‘Grey told you. How the Devil did he know?’
‘He did not say. He simply asked me to give you a message and said I would find you at John Langham’s house.’
‘So he knows you see me? What game does that cunning bastard play that he sends messages to me through you and yet does not come to arrest me? I don’t trust him at all.’
‘I do,’ answered Henrietta roundly, moving away slightly. ‘I think he is one of the best people ever born. He told me he wanted you to have a chance of escape, yet said to warn you that forces he could not control were massing against you. I think he is the most honest man in the world.’
A look of amused annoyance crossed Challice’s hard features.
‘I see that you have a very soft spot for him indeed. Am I to take it that my attentions are no longer welcome?’
Henrietta blushed furiously. ‘Of course not. I like Nicholas Grey as a friend, that is all.’
‘And what of me? Am I just a friend to you? If so, you must tell me now and save me future pain.’
‘How can you speak of the future when you know we have none?’
‘I know nothing of the kind,’ Challice answered. ‘One day we will be together always, not enduring secret meetings like this.’
‘Please,’ she said, ‘don’t make the little time we have together unhappy. Can we not be joyful?’
For answer he drew her into his arms again, kissing her gently and holding her so close to him that she could feel every beat of his heart. The kisses grew in strength until they became almost frantic and it was then that Henrietta realised if she did not draw away from him she would have no choice but to go on, to become his, to unite her body with Challice’s and yield up all that was girlish and childish about her.
Not quite sure of herself she half pushed him away, but he ignored her, holding her all the harder, kissing her all the more. Suddenly she ceased to care what happened, wanting him to take her to womanhood, forgetting who they were and that their love could never be sealed by marriage. She slipped beneath him, then opened her eyes wide in shock as he roughly pushed his way into her. The pain was agonising, ruthless, and in the strangest way, glorious.
Henrietta bit her lip as Challice moved rhythmically and steadily, consummating his love with strength and passion. Th
en after a few moments she began to feel pleasure herself and it was then that she started to move with him, curving her back upwards and holding him close to her. Far away, she was aware of something like an explosion that drew ever nearer until it finally burst within her, leaving her gasping and crying and trembling with awareness, taken over the brink with a sensation she would never have believed possible.
When it was all over, when every exquisite feeling had finally died away, they sat up, leaning against the trunk of a tree. Jacob smoked his pipe quietly, while Henrietta entwined her fingers with his, listening to his heart and loving him.
‘Is it always like this?’ she said eventually. ‘For everyone?’
‘No,’ he answered, looking at her seriously. ‘It can be the most miserable experience in the world.’
‘I can hardly believe it.’
Jacob turned her face to his, his fingers gentle beneath her chin. ‘I’m afraid it’s true. But we’ll speak no more of that. Tell me Grey’s warning. Is it that I should move to another patch?’
‘Yes. He believes that you are in danger as long as you stay here.’ She turned on him a curious face. ‘Jacob, while you were in Mr Langham’s care did he put you in a dream state?’
Challice looked guarded. ‘He told me not to speak of it.’
‘You may talk frankly with me because he tried the same experiment. Only in my case it failed. Nothing happened at all.’
‘Nothing?’
‘I simply lay on his couch, felt drowsy, then got up again. Did anything happen to you?’
‘Oh yes,’ answered Jacob slowly. ‘A great deal.’
‘Will you tell me of it?’
‘One day,’ he said quietly. ‘But this is not the time. Rather let me ask you if you hate me for what has taken place?’
‘How could I?’ she answered. ‘I felt when you took me that it was something I had been waiting for all my life.’
Challice looked at her with a very strange expression on his face as he said, ‘And so did I.’
*
Beneath Lieutenant Jekyll’s piercing stare, Nicholas Grey dropped his gaze, wishing for the thousandth time that he had never become involved with the bounty hunters.