Moonstruck Masness

by Laurie McBain

  "Next time I come, I'd like to sample your brew," Sa­brina told her, snuggling the kitten under her chin.

  Mrs. Taylor made a mock frown. "Now what is that cat up to?" she demanded, nicking the kitten playfully under the chin. "She's a sweet-talking little rascal. Loves butter, and when I'm making it, tries to lick up all the cream be­fore I can get it into the churn. Nearly split her sides the other day, the little pig. Waddled out of here so full of cream her little tummy was fair to bursting." She threw back her head and laughed heartily.

  "What's her name?" Sabrina asked with a smile.

  "Well now, I don't rightly know, never got around to naming her," Mrs. Taylor admitted. "Would you like to name her?"

  "Oh yes, I think I'll call her Smudge because she has a little smudge of butter on her cheek," Sabrina proclaimed, rubbing the velvety black nose of the purring kitten who was asleep in her lap.

  "Charlie!" Will exclaimed from the doorway.

  "Hello, Will," Sabrina greeted him, casting him an inter­ested look. "I hear you've been sampling some of the vil­lage ale and gathering a little gossip."

  The big man shifted uncomfortably, a reluctant look crossing his face. He nodded his head and, avoiding Sa­brina's eyes, stuffed a large hunk of bread into his mouth and was unable to answer her query.

  Sabrina smiled. "You know that as soon as you've swal­lowed that mass you'll have to answer me and tell me what you've heard."

  Will swallowed with a gulp and stared out of the win­dow, an obstinate look on his broad features.

  "Come now, Will," Sabrina appealed. "You know I'll find out eventually. You might as well tell me and save me the time."

  "Will! You do as the Lady Sabrina asks. What's wrong with you?" Mrs. Taylor scolded.

  Will turned, and facing Sabrina with dogged resolution answered, "All I heard was that some gent was throwing a private party tonight."

  Sabrina's violet eyes brightened with interest as she looked expectantly at Will for further information. "Well?"

  "That's all," Will said perversely.

  Sabrina's eyes narrowed. "Since when have you bridled your tongue?" she demanded. "You usually talk yourself out of breath. Why are we so tongue-tied now?"

  "I didn't think we would be interested in this. It's not in our vicinity. You know we like to stay close to home where we know the countryside," Will explained reason­ably. "Besides, with John sick we're short a man."

  "I know, but that doesn't explain jour reluctance to tell me about this party. Who is the host and where is it?" Sa­brina asked curiously.

  "If you'll excuse me, Lady Sabrina, I'll take some of this coffee and warm bread up to John."

  Mrs. Taylor bustled out as she always did when they be­gan to talk privately.

  Will shrugged his massive shoulders. "It's the Davern es­tate. It's been empty for a long time, and it's just got a new owner, and he's giving a party for some of his friends at it. Supposedly brought in an army of servants to clean it up and now he's planning to do some entertaining."

  Sabrina watched Will's flushed face in puzzlement. "I still don't see why you were so reluctant to tell me this news? It is beyond where we usually work, but it does sound too good to pass up. However, I don't know. We've plenty of work hereabouts," she concluded.

  Will heaved a grateful sigh of relief. "Thought you'd feel that way," he grinned widely.

  "But why were you worried?" Sabrina asked in confu­sion.

  "Well, 'twas the scar-faced gent's man who told me. He's the new owner of that estate, and his man was in the tavern getting good and primed, and he tells me about this party his master's giving tonight. Ordering bottles of rum and wine, and—" He stopped abruptly as he saw the surprised, then determined expression on Sabrina's face. "Charlie, you ain't going to go, are you?" he said wor­riedly. "That's why I didn't want to tell you. I don't like it The scar-faced gent's bad news."

  "I would've thought you'd be the first to want to get revenge on the man who shot your brother?" Sabrina ac­cused him.

  Will doubled up his fists threateningly. "I'd like to draw and quarter him, but John's going to be all right, and I got this feeling about the scar-faced one. I don't think it'd be worth the price we'd have to pay."

  "I know you're not a coward, Will, but if you'd feel bet­ter not going tonight, then so be it. I'll not blame you, but I intend to go," Sabrina told him firmly.

  Will shook his head. "You know I won't let you go alone. You need me. Only wish we'd John, too."

  "Listen, Will, we're always in danger. Every time we ride out we risk capture and death. This is no different—except that we already know where we're going and who we're up against. The odds are in our favor more than if we stopped a coach on the open road. Don't worry, this will be one of our easiest and most rewarding jobs," Sabrina predicted with growing confidence. "To see our scar-faced friend's surprised face when we arrive unannounced at his private party. He'll pay for his misplaced courage of the other evening."

  Will nodded agreement worried indecision still evident on his face.

  "I must go, but I'd like to see John first," Sabrina told Mrs. Taylor who'd just returned to the kitchen. Sabrina put the fat kitten on the floor where it scampered off quickly to a basket near the fire and curled up again to fall immediately to sleep.

  John was propped up in a large feather bed, dwarfing the four posts that surrounded him. A quilted coverlet was pulled up over his nightshirt and he was staring moodily out of the casement window, his mug of coffee in one hand, when Sabrina and Mrs. Taylor, followed by Will, entered.

  "Charlie!" John exclaimed happily, then turned a bright red and sunk deeper beneath the quilt in embarrassment. "This is no place for a lady. Mam, you shouldn't have brought her in here," he complained.

  "Now when has anyone been able to tell the Lady Sa­brina what to do? She does as she pleases, as it should be," she berated the flustered John. "Be glad she even thought of a big turnip-head like you."

  "How are you feeling, John?" Sabrina inquired sin­cerely, perching on the edge of the bed.

  "Oh, fine, Charlie, just fine. Be up now if Mam would let me," he reassured her.

  "I brought you some playing cards, and Mary made you some gooseberry tarts, knowing you've a sweet tooth." Sa­brina dug into the basket she'd brought into the bedroom with her and placed next to her on the bed.

  John grinned sheepishly, his hazel eyes full of pleasure. "Well now, that's real kind of you, Charlie. And you thank the Lady Mary for her kindness, too," he added shyly, confirming Sabrina's suspicion that he secretly ad­mired Mary.

  "I will, John, and I know she'll be pleased to hear you're doing so much better. Now, I must be off." Sabrina gave Will a beckoning glance and left the room with him be­hind her.

  "Meet me in the orchard about nine. We don't want to arrive too early. We'll let the play get underway so the gentlemen will be well into their spirits and less inclined to heroics," Sabrina directed, then added with a specula­tive look in her eyes, "although I almost wish our scar-faced friend would try something. With little or no provo­cation I would run him through."

  Will shook his curly head in defeat. "I'll be there, but it seems a warning to me, with John laid up with a wound, and there being a full moon tonight and that gent that shot John being the one we're going to rob again. It adds up to trouble, if you asks me."

  Sabrina's mouth tightened ominously as she stood before the large man, her head only reaching the middle of his chest, her hands placed firmly on her hips. "I didn't know Will Taylor was a coward and frightened of his own shadow."

  Will's face burned red and his hands automatically dou­bled into fists as he controlled his temper.

  "Listen, Will," Sabrina cajoled, placing her small hand on Will's big, muscular forearm. "Mary would've said something if there was danger. You know she has the gift. She'd have felt something, and yet she's said nothing so far. Now don't worry." She patted the still rigid muscles of his arm and added truthfully, "You know I'd n
ot have an­other with me. I've complete trust and faith in you and your courage, Will. Forgive me?"

  Sabrina smiled up into his broad face that still mirrored the hurt she'd inflicted to his pride. He suddenly grinned sheepishly.

  "Sure, Charlie. I can't be mad at you, even though I know I shouldn't listen to you."

  Sabrina's smile deepened as she turned happily away, waving to Mrs. Taylor, who stood watching from the bed­room window. Climbing back into the gaily painted cart, she urged the horse down the path and onto the road that cut through the small village. The horse trotted along pull­ing the yellow-wheeled cart across the stone bridge that spanned the river as it meandered through the village. The brick and oak walls of the old mill towered over the bridge while the huge mill wheel turned noisily. Entering the village with its cobbled streets Sabrina drove slowly past the high-roofed, half-timbered houses and flower gardens, cheerful sunflowers standing tall above the rest as they nodded somnolently in the afternoon heat. She left the main road of the village before entering the busy marketplace and the tavern opposite that would be busily serving thirsty customers. She could see the tall tower of the church rising into the blue sky above the town until it was blocked out by the shade from the over­hanging boughs of chestnuts and elms bordering the road. In the distance, red bullocks grazed peacefully in green meadows of yellow cowslips and droopy-headed bluebells.

  A lazy afternoon, Sabrina thought idly as the cart jogged along the dusty road, the horse automatically turn­ing up the narrow, twisting road that led to Verrick House. But before leaving the main road, Sabrina's breath caught sharply as she recognized a troop of patrolling dragoons further down the road. Her gloved hands tightened unconsciously on the reins as she controlled the impulse to whip the horse into a gallop and send him out of reach of the King's men. She forced herself to loosen her grip and keep the horse trotting at a steady, even pace. Glancing curiously from beneath the wide brim of her hat, Sabrina watched the troop gallop past on the road, not recognizing the officer who rode ahead, one of the new ones brought in to capture her, she thought in amusement. He wouldn't be riding so proudly in the saddle after the many fruitless chases she would lead him on, she thought and breathed a sigh of relief as they rounded a bend and were hidden from sight.

  Nearing Verrick House the road narrowed and was bor­dered by oleanders and cherry laurel hedges. Guiding the cart along the drive she slowed as she entered the stable yard and an ostler came running forward to assist her. She entered the hall, and removing her bonnet climbed the stairs, her thoughts centered on this evening's activities. She would talk with Mary first, just to reassure herself; not that she herself was really worried about this evening.

  She found Mary in her room, sitting on the edge of her bed, a faraway look in her light gray eyes. Sabrina sat down beside her, taking one of her cold hands between her own and squeezing it softly.

  "Mary," she whispered. "Mary, it's me, Sabrina." She looked into Mary's eyes, trying to see what she was gazing at, but they stared through her, seeing something beyond the room. "Mary?"

  Mary's fingers gripped Sabrina's hands and she shivered, her eyes closing as she breathed a deep sigh. Sabrina

  waited patiently, knowing it would be a moment before Mary regained her composure.

  Mary's eyes opened slowly and she turned her head and smiled at Sabrina.

  "You knew, didn't you?" Sabrina asked.

  "Yes, I felt your questions and your doubts before I think even you did," she replied softly, the trance still holding her in its spell. "I have never felt quite this strange before."

  "What did you see?" Sabrina asked anxiously.

  "I saw a strange house, and a stranger."

  Sabrina gripped her hands together as she asked, "What did this stranger look like?"

  Mary frowned. "At first he frightened me, you see; he had a scar across his cheek, and I felt very nervous and uneasy."

  Sabrina stared down at her hands in her lap, nervously chewing her lower lip as she listened to Mary's startling in­formation—for she had never spoken of the scar-faced man before.

  "I'm worried about this man, and yet I don't feel the same cold, desolate ache that I did when Grandfather died." Mary laughed nervously. "I know it sounds insane and doesn't really make much sense, but what is going to happen, I feel, is inevitable." She looked to Sabrina for un­derstanding.

  Sabrina returned her stare gravely, nodding her head in acceptance. "Well, as long as you don't see me hanging from the gibbet, then all is well, because I shall be facing that scar-faced man this evening," she confessed reluc­tantly, "and unless he puts up one hell of a fight, then you can look for me around dawn."

  "So there really is a scar-faced man," Mary breathed in awe.

  "It's not really a disfiguring scar," Sabrina explained, "it just makes him look rakish, and he has a disposition to match. He's the one who fired at John."

  The worried look returned to Mary's face. "I wish I felt certain about this. How can I allow you to go riding off into danger, danger I know exists, and yet I can't really warn you against anything specific," she cried in disgust "Everything is so vague. I always see just enough to tanta­lize me, but never enough to do any good."

  "Yes, you do, Mary," Sabrina replied. "Remember when you warned us of the dragoons waiting on the hillside to ambush us? And the time Richard was lost and you knew exactly where to find him? Oh, Mary, you've been right so many times, don't despair now, just because you can't tell me everything."

  "But why do I see this scar-faced man? Who is he? And why is he important to us? He's always there, Sabrina. I hadn't told you earlier, but I've seen him before—in other dreams," Mary confessed. "But it doesn't make sense. Is he an enemy, or not?"

  "Of course he is. What else could he be?" Sabrina de­manded. "But he won't be troubling us further after tonight"

  Mary clasped her hands together tightly. "I hate it! I hate having the gift," she said tearfully. "I'm cursed. I want to be normal, Rina. I don't want to be different," Mary sobbed. "I think sometimes I'm a witch. Why do you love me? Why do you care about me? I only see evil."

  "Don't Mary. You're not evil. What you have is God-given. It has to be," Sabrina said persuasively, putting her arm around Mary's shaking shoulders.

  "Don't you remember the English ship you warned us of? The French captain still must say prayers to you for saving his skin. And remember the night you warned Will and John and me not to go on the highroad, and the next day two highwaymen who'd been caught by a patrol of dragoons that night were seen hanging from the gibbets. Your gift is good, Mary," Sabrina coaxed. "Now dry your tears and give me a smile. I'm tired of long faces about me. What with Will's woebegone faces, I'm out of all pa­tience with the lot of you."

  Mary gave her a watery smile and got to her feet, smoothing down her skirts. "You're right, Rina. I've been acting like a wretch these last few days, but everything will be all right. It has to be."

  Sabrina smiled in satisfaction. "I know it will. Have I failed yet? We've many more profitable years yet to come, you wait and see."

  Sabrina shook off her uneasiness as she and Will left their familiar countryside of valleys and woodlands, and through the dark of night under a full, yellow moon riding high in the sky they traveled across a desolate expanse of wild heath, then a forest of dense, black fir trees. Gradu­ally the whole atmosphere of the land began to change into a nightmarish quality. The stone villages surrounded by their high, thick, medieval walls had a fortressed look to them. The fields and lanes were a mazework of stone walls and fences that would impede a quick and facile es­cape. In the distance they could see dim silhouettes of the massive chimneys of isolated houses and groves of twisted elder and crab tree blown grotesquely out of shape by the winds dotted the hillsides.

  "I don't like it at all," Will spoke softly, his voice sound­ing like a clap of thunder in Sabrina's ears.

  She looked at his big bulk in the dark, its familiarity comforting her nervousness as h
er horse shied at a scuf­fling noise from the hidden underbrush.

  "It's too late now," Sabrina answered as she saw the triple chimneys of the house ahead. The gossiping servant had mentioned its odd appearance and the avenue of syc­amores lining the drive when he'd been drinking in the tavern.

  "It seems too quiet." Will frowned as he tried to see into the darkness enveloping the grounds.

  "It appears normal to me. See, there are lights coming from those windows, and anyway it's not a full household. It's just a small party, and they're still in the process of moving in," Sabrina reasoned aloud. "It's in our favor, Will. He and his friends, and a couple of servants. Mere child's play, eh, Will?"

  They made their way closer to the house, moving silently into the shadows, and, tethering their horses, crept close. Sabrina examined the house thoughtfully before whispering to Will, "You go to the window and stand ready to step in when I call. I'll slip around the side. I saw a window above, partially open, and I'll climb up the trel­lis and come down from upstairs. This way we'll have them between us. This window is locked, so you'll have to break it."

  "I don't like it. We shouldn't separate. I'll come up with you. We don't know the plans of the house, Charlie, or who's upstairs. No, I'll come with you," Will said ada­mantly.

  Sabrina shook her head. "And have the whole lot of them alerted as you crash down from the side of the house? You don't think that flimsy trellis will carry your weight? I'm light as a feather, but you're as big as an ox, Will, and about as noisy as one. No, this is our best plan. From the stairs I'll get an idea of the situation and be able to act."

  Leaving Will stationed at the lighted window, Sabrina crept silently to the side and climbed swiftly and noise­lessly up the clinging trellis. Entering the darkened room through the open window she cast a quick glance about her, taking in her surroundings. It was an unused bed­chamber. She could make out the cumbersome shape of a fourposter and chest of drawers. Moving across the room where a small ribbon of light seeped beneath the closed door, Sabrina opened it and carefully peered out into the wide gallery that was lighted by several wall sconces.