The Blue Eyed Witch

by Barbara Cartland

  The Marquis was determined, as he had never been determined about anything in his life, that he would bring to the gallows the man who had tried to destroy anything so exquisite, if it was the last thing he ever did.

  *

  When the Marquis looked at the two men who had tried to abduct Idylla the night before, he found them sorry-looking creatures.

  Blood had dripped down on their faces from the blows he had inflicted on them and, having passed the night trussed up by the nightwatchmen, they were stiff and looked, with their unshaven dirty faces, extremely unprepossessing.

  He found, as he had expected, that they had little of consequence to tell him.

  They had come from the slums of Shoreditch. There they had met a gentleman in an inn, who had promised them ten pounds each if they would steal away a young woman on whom he had set his fancy.

  The gentleman had told them exactly what they were to do and had provided them with a cart and a horse in which they were to drive Idylla, gagged and bound, to Lowring Creek.

  The cart and the horse had been found where they had left it tied to a tree in the park and, although he questioned and cross-questioned the two men and later they were interrogated by the High Sheriff himself, the Marquis was certain that they could tell him little more than they had done already.

  The High Sheriff ordered them to be conveyed to Chelmsford where they would be put in prison awaiting trial.

  Then the Marquis took Colonel Trumble into the library and told him the whole story leading up to the moment when he had seen Idylla being let down from the balcony of her bedroom into the garden.

  “It was a clever idea, my Lord!” the Colonel said. “And it was certainly not thought out by those scallywag we have been talking to.”

  “There is a mastermind behind this,” the Marquis said. “A man activated not only by hatred but also, I am convinced, by greed!”

  “What makes you think that, my Lord?” the Colonel asked.

  “What I am going to tell you is of course confidential,” the Marquis replied, “and for the moment based merely on supposition. I have no proof and it is going to be difficult to find it, but I am absolutely convinced that when I do, this fiend who has disposed of the Vicar of Gore and very nearly his granddaughter as well, will receive the sentence of death he so rightly deserves!”

  “Tell me exactly what it is you suspect,” the Colonel asked.

  The Marquis told him.

  *

  They talked together for over an hour and, when the High Sheriff left The Castle, the Marquis walked with him to the front door.

  “It is pleasant to meet you, my Lord,” Colonel Trumble said, “and I am delighted that you are staying here. I have always admired The Castle and have longed for the day when it would be opened and its owner in residence.”

  “I see I have been very remiss in not coming to Essex more often,” the Marquis replied. “I suppose in a way it was because I was so happy here as a boy – I was afraid that if I returned, I might be disappointed.”

  “And have you been?” the Colonel enquired.

  “On the contrary, I have found it more enjoyable than ever before!” the Marquis replied.

  “Then I hope you will stay a long time and come again. I expect Roger Clarke has already told you that we have had a good nesting season?”

  The Marquis smiled.

  “I have already informed Clarke that he may expect me in September, and I hope, Colonel, that you will join me in several shoots.”

  “I should be delighted to accept any invitation your Lordship may extend to me,” the High Sheriff said with sincerity.

  As he drove away in his smart carriage that bore the Sheriff’s arms on the door, Colonel Trumble was smiling.

  The Marquis went upstairs to Idylla’s bedroom.

  She was dressed and sitting outside on the balcony and he knew by the expression on her face that she had been waiting anxiously for his appearance.

  “What has happened?” she asked. “I thought you would never come and tell me!”

  “There is unfortunately very little to tell,” the Marquis answered.

  He thought as he sat down beside her that despite the terror of the night before she looked amazingly beautiful and not unduly perturbed.

  Then his eyes met hers and he understood.

  He could not be mistaken in recognising when a woman was happy because he was with her. The light in Idylla’s eyes, the soft curve of her lips, and the faint flush on her pale cheeks told him without words exactly what she was feeling.

  “Before we talk about anything else,” he suggested, “I want to know how well you slept and how you feel this morning.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to see that Nanny was not in the bedroom and could overhear.

  “When I left you very early this morning, you were sleeping peacefully and, I hope, dreaming of me.”

  The colour which rose in her face was very attractive.

  “I think I was – dreaming of you,” she answered, “because when I awoke I was no longer – frightened, but happy – very happy!”

  “And you are happy now?” he asked.

  “Now that you are here,” she answered. “It just seemed a long time – while I was waiting.”

  “It seemed a long time to me too,” the Marquis answered truthfully, “but I had to give you time to get dressed and I also had to talk to the High Sheriff.”

  “You told him about Grandpapa?”

  “He already knew. It had been reported to him officially that the Vicar of Gore and his granddaughter were missing, but he had not taken the information seriously. He explained to me that a great number of people go on holidays or are called away to dying relatives without informing anyone of their destination.” “Of course,” Idylla murmured.

  “Now he will send one of his officials to the Vicarage,” the Marquis said. “He will inform your grandfather’s parishioners of what has happened and ensure that the house is locked so that nothing can be stolen.” “I don’t think anyone from the village would steal from us.” Then after a moment in a different tone she asked, “They have not – found – Grandpapa’s body?” “Not yet, but the High Sheriff is going to make enquiries. As you know, the tide might have taken his body out to sea, in which case it might be cast up on another shore.”

  “I – understand.” “There is one thing I wanted to ask you, Idylla. Where does your grandfather keep the Church Register? The one in which is written all the births, deaths, and marriages.”

  “In the Vestry,” Idylla answered. “You will find it in a drawer at the bottom of a wardrobe where Grandpapa hung his surplice.”

  “Thank you. That is what I wanted to know,” the Marquis replied.

  “Why are you interested?” she asked.

  “That is something I hope to explain to you later. For the moment, I want you – and it is very important, Idylla, to try to get well as quickly as possible.”

  “But I am well. Nanny said that if it had not been for what happened last night, she was going to suggest that I went for a walk in the garden.”

  She looked into the Marquis’s eyes and added, “I did so want you to show me the flowers and where you played when you were a little boy.”

  “We will do that tomorrow,” the Marquis promised. “But get well quickly, because I have some other important plans for us both.”

  “Something we can do together?” she asked eagerly. “Together!” he answered.

  He bent forward as he spoke and took her hand in his.

  “It is too soon and I meant to wait. But after what happened last night I am so afraid of losing you, of your disappearing when I am not actually touching you and holding you in my arms.”

  He felt a little quiver run through her. Then he said, “Will you marry me, Idylla?”

  He saw her eyes widen. He knew that this was something she had not expected him to say even though he was sure that she loved him.

  As if the full significance of wha
t he had asked swept over her like a wave in the sea, there was a dazzling light in her eyes and a radiance in her face that made her look even more beautiful than before.

  “It is very – wonderful of you to ask me to be your wife – but you know I cannot – accept.”

  “Why not?” the Marquis enquired. “I love you, Idylla, and let me tell you that I have never before asked any woman to be my wife! I have never loved anyone, my darling, as I love you!”

  She did not answer and after a moment he said, “When I ran downstairs last night to prevent those men from carrying you away, I knew that if I lost you I would have lost everything that really mattered to me in life.”

  A faint smile touched his lips as he went on, “I would have lost ‘perfection’, something which I have sought always, only to be disappointed. How could I have guessed or even imagined, I should find it in rescuing a witch from being ducked in the village pond?”

  There was a little silence and then Idylla said hesitatingly, “It is – because you have sought – perfection and because everything you do is – perfect that I cannot – marry you.”

  “I don’t understand.” “I have remembered my name and I know now I am not a witch,” Idylla said, “but I don’t know the name of my – father. I cannot – now that I think about it, even be – sure that he and Mama were – married to each other!”

  She bent her head as she spoke and the Marquis knew it was to hide the colour that now rose almost painfully from her small chin up to her forehead.

  “How could you,” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper, “who are so important – so distinguished – marry a love child?”

  There was a tenderness in the Marquis’s eyes that had never been there before.

  “If you are thinking for me, Idylla,” he said, “which I know you are, let me assure you that however you may have been born, whoever your parents may be, I should feel honoured and fortunate above all men if you consented to be my wife. But I want to tell you something.”

  Idylla’s head was still bent and after a moment he said, “Look at me, my darling, and listen to what I have to say.”

  Obediently she raised her head and her blue eyes looked into his.

  “I am convinced in my own mind,” he said, “that not only were your father and mother married, but that he was of distinguished birth, a man of whom you can well be proud. But this is something that has to be proved and that is why I am asking you, my beloved, to trust me – just trust me a little longer, until there is no more mystery to trouble and upset you.”

  Idylla drew in her breath and once again the light was back in her eyes.

  “I love you!” she said. “You know I love you! But I would not do anything to – harm you, and I know that, because you are who you are – to marry me as things are at the moment would be wrong – very wrong. You might – regret it.”

  “I would never regret marrying you,” the Marquis insisted. “You are all I have dreamt of or imagined might exist somewhere in the world, if only I could find it. But I do understand what you are trying to say to me.”

  He looked at her searchingly as if he would impress her loveliness on his mind. Then he said, “I cannot believe that anyone can be so perfect in every way and that is why I will never rest, Idylla, until you belong to me completely and absolutely!”

  “That is what I want,” she whispered, “but I am thinking for – you.

  “In a way no one has ever thought for me before,” the Marquis answered.

  He knew as he spoke that no woman could be more unselfish or more high-principled, than to deny her heart simply because she thought it might harm him socially.

  “We are going to be married!” he said masterfully. “You are going to belong to me, my lovely one, and all the terrible things that have happened to you will be forgotten.”

  “But at the moment,” Idylla replied in a very small voice, “the man who – killed Grandpapa is still waiting to – kill me!”

  She gave an exclamation that was like a cry.

  “In doing so he might harm you. You must promise me to be careful – very careful! Supposing – ”

  She gave a little gasp of fear.

  “Supposing, because you prevented me from being – drowned as a witch and being – abducted last night, he now tries to take his – vengeance on – you?”

  “So you are afraid for me rather than for yourself!” the Marquis said in a voice that had an incredulous note in it. “Oh, my sweet, could anyone be so entrancing, so angelic, in every way?”

  He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them passionately one after the other. Then, as he felt a tremor run through her and knew he excited her, his lips found hers.

  It was a kiss as perfect and even more ecstatic in a different way than the one they had exchanged the night before.

  Now the Marquis’s lips were more possessive, more demanding, and, as he felt Idylla respond to his need of her, there was a glint of fire in his eyes.

  “I love you! God, how I love you!” he cried. “Let’s be married at once, my precious. Why should we wait?”

  “Please – please – don’t tempt me,” Idylla pleaded. “I know I must do what is right for – you. You cannot marry me until I know who my father – was.”

  She hid her face against his shoulder. Then she added in a very small childlike voice, “S-suppose – we never – find out?”

  “Then I must either wait for you until we are old and grey and too decrepit to walk up the aisle,” the Marquis asserted with a touch of laughter in his voice, “or I shall have to carry you away by sheer force and make you my wife whether you consent or not!”

  She gave a little choked laugh, but, when she raised her head, she said seriously, “Please – please don’t make it more – difficult for me than it is already to say – ‘no’ to you. I did not know a man could be so – magnificent – and yet so – considerate and gentle.”

  “I shall never be anything else to you,” the Marquis said and she knew it was a vow as sacred as if he had made it in front of the altar.

  *

  Later that evening, Roger Clarke came into the library where the Marquis was waiting for him, carrying a large leather-bound book in his arms.

  “You have found it!” the Marquis exclaimed, rising from the desk where he had been writing.

  “I have found it, my Lord, exactly where you said it would be,” Roger Clarke replied.

  He set the book down on the desk and went on, “The High Sheriff’s men were waiting when I arrived. I did not think you would wish to tell Miss Idylla, my Lord, but the Vicarage has been ransacked from the basement to the attic!”

  “Ransacked?” the Marquis exclaimed. “But why and by whom?”

  “The villagers were protesting that they had nothing to do with it and did not even know it had occurred. The woman who works there, a Mrs. Laver, said it had been done at night. She had locked up the house after she found that the Vicar and Miss Idylla had vanished, but someone had got in by breaking one of the windows. It was quite obvious, my Lord, there had been a systematic search.”

  “Had anything been taken?” the Marquis asked.

  “Mrs. Laver thought not. The silver was there and a few trinkets belonging to Miss Idylla. The china and pictures were not disturbed, but every drawer in the place had been thrown to the floor, every cupboard opened and every book pulled from the bookcases!”

  “Then I have a feeling,” the Marquis said slowly, “that what I am looking for in this Register will not be there.”

  He opened the leather-bound book as he spoke.

  The records went back over fifty years and he turned over the pages impatiently until he came to the years after 1780.

  Then he went very slowly until near 1781 and 1782 both the pages were missing.

  They had obviously been torn out carefully, but there were still tiny pieces of the stiff paper in the binding to mark the place where they had been.

  “I am afraid, my Lord, it was a
wasted journey,” Roger Clarke remarked.

  “Not wasted,” the Marquis said, “it only confirms what I expected to have happened.”

  The young man waited as if hoping that the Marquis would enlighten him further, but he merely closed the register and said, “I should be grateful, Clarke, if you would take this back at your convenience, but I should put it in a place of safety. The village will not wish to lose a record of such importance to those who feature in it.”

  “Is there anything I can do in the Vicarage itself, my Lord?”

  “I don’t think so,” the Marquis answered. “I imagine Mrs. Laver, or whatever her name is, will gradually tidy it up and, as you have already guessed, I shall not speak about it to Miss Idylla. It would only upset her and there is no point in her knowing what has happened.”

  “I suppose not – until she returns,” Roger Clarke said.

  “If she returns,” the Marquis murmured enigmatically.

  *

  The Marquis had luncheon with Idylla on the balcony in the sunshine.

  He made her laugh and they talked of many things, but not of the problem that occupied both their minds almost to the exclusion of all else.

  The Marquis decided that the less said in front of the servants about last night, the better.

  He knew that Nanny and through her the whole household thought the attempt to kidnap Idylla had been by someone local who was still convinced that she was a witch.

  “The ignorant heathens in this part of the world,” Nanny said scornfully, “are so afraid of magic that they themselves become demons in trying to stamp it out.”

  “Whatever the reason for such behaviour,” the Marquis replied quietly, “it is something that will not occur again at The Castle. I have already arranged with Mr. Clarke that there will be two men patrolling the grounds with dogs every night. Everyone can therefore sleep peacefully in their beds, unless of course the dogs keep them awake by barking!”

  He smiled as he spoke, but Nanny said seriously, “I’ll not have them witch-hunters nor anyone else making Miss Idylla ill again. I’ve got her well and well she’ll stay or I’ll know the reason why!”

  “That’s right, Nanny,” the Marquis approved, “and I shall want to know the reason why too, so the less everyone talks about it the better!”