It was warm. She had not known that she was cold until she put it on. Nothing made you so cold as fear. She was very much afraid. She turned round from the wardrobe and made her way across the room to the door. And out of the door into the length of dark passage and along it to the landing.
On the landing itself she stopped. Darkness covered you. Darkness was safe. She couldn’t come out of its protection into the light and down the stairs and across the hall. She couldn’t – she couldn’t. The very thought of it made her limbs shake and brought the taste of fear up into her throat.
And then suddenly she thought about the back stairs. That was it. She would only have to cross this wide shadowy passage to the other side of the house, and the quicker she did it the better. Every moment that she stood and waited, the little courage that she had would be draining away. She mustn’t wait – she mustn’t wait at all. It was quite easy, there was no danger. Her heart banged against her side and she did it. Now she was across the dimly lighted space, and now the black mouth of the passage was open before her.
Every step she took away from the light made her safer. In her dark coat she couldn’t really be seen now. No one would look this way. The back stair went down two-thirds of the way along the passage. It was screened by a door. Sometimes the door stood open. Mattie was careless about leaving it. If Thomasina had come up last, it would be shut. It was open. Walking in the dark with what light there was getting fainter and fainter behind her, she came upon it, her fingers feeling along the wall. And then quite suddenly the edge of the door, and then nothing. The door was open, and there was no light – no light at all.
She slipped into the darkness, shut the door, and took a long breath. She did not know how frightened she had been until it was over. Now she stood for a moment, pulling herself together.
It was quite, quite dark. After a moment or two she began to move her foot half a step at a time. She thought there was a sort of landing there, taps and a sink on one side, and steps going down on the other. She had to be very careful. If she made a false step, anyone might hear her. She took two steps – three, with her hand before her – four – five – and then there was the stair-rail, and her foot poised over nothingness. Her hand touched the rail just in time to prevent a loss of balance. She gripped hard on the rail and went down. She wasn’t quite sure where the stair came out.
When she had reached the last of the steps she had to feel about her. There was another door, shut this time. She opened it and found herself in a dark passage. At that moment there came over her a desperate longing to be back in her room warm in her bed. It came and it went again. Afterwards she thought that was the last moment at which she could have drawn back. It was her opportunity, and she refused it. From then on she had no choice.
EIGHTEEN
IN THE STUDY Lilian Fancourt sat bolt upright on the sofa. Her expression was strained, her face very white. She was looking at the man who sat beside her, his whole appearance that of someone who is quite sure of himself. He said in an easy manner, ‘Come along, Lilian – what’s all the fuss about? I’m not going to eat her.’
Lilian brightened a little. She said, ‘N-no—’
He laughed.
‘Anyone would think I was asking you to do something dreadful, my dear.’
‘Oh, you’re not – are you!’
‘Of course I’m not. I’m only asking you to help me to restore a poor lost girl to her nearest relation. You’ve really no truck with her at all, you know. She’s not married to your nephew and never has been, and if I take her off in the middle of the night, well, she’s run away and that’s all there is to it. Next time she turns up, if she turns up at all, it’ll be as a blushing bride.’
Lilian gave him a curious frightened look.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I’ve said.’
‘What do you mean by saying “if she turns up at all”?’
‘Oh, just a manner of speaking.’
‘You wouldn’t hurt her – you don’t mean that!’
He laughed.
‘Look here, my dear, she’s got money, and if she was out of the way it would all go to Charity with a nice big C. You’ve known me a good long time. Have I ever struck you as being the sort of chump who would go out of his way to endow a charity?’
‘N-no – you haven’t.’ Lilian looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. It was curious to see him after – how long was it – fifteen years? No, it must be near twenty – but it might have been yesterday. She let her thoughts run back. He had always taken the high hand … She wouldn’t really have liked it. She and Harriet were better off as they were. And yet – and yet—
His voice cut in.
‘My dear girl, what’s all the fuss about?’
NINETEEN
ANNE WENT ON through the door into the hall. The light seemed frighteningly bright to her eyes which had accustomed themselves to the darkness. She had come out into the back part of the hall. What light there was came from the single jet turned low just inside the hall door. The first door on her right led into the dining-room, and beyond it, to the front of the house, was the room where they had sat after dinner. It was the room where Lilian had her writing-table. Light shone under the door. Straining, she thought she could catch the sound of voices. She stood still and listened. The murmur of voices went on.
And then she had a sudden fright. One of the voices rose, came nearer. She darted for the dining-room door. It was level with her. She was inside and the door held close in front of her – not shut but just held close. She stood there, her heart beating so loud that it seemed to her that anyone would be able to hear it and follow the sound and find her.
Moments passed. Her heart-beats quieted. And then when she could hear again there was sound coming, not through the door whose handle she clutched, but from behind her. She turned round. The door against which she had been leaning, the door into the hall, wasn’t shut. But the sound didn’t come from there. It came from in front of her on the right-hand side. It came from the next-door room, and she remembered that there was a door between the two rooms.
When the house was built all those years ago, when old Mr Fancourt was young, there had been gay parties in the house and provision made for guests to circulate. Lilian’s voice, explaining that of course they lived very differently now since the two wars, came to her.
‘Of course, we don’t remember its gay days. He wasn’t so young when he married our mother.’ Lilian’s high, affected voice came trailing out of her memory as she crossed the dark dining-room step by cautious step. She mustn’t make any noise at all or they would hear her as she could hear them.
She was about half-way across the room, her hands feeling before her and the carpet soft under her feet, when it came to her with paralysing suddenness that one of the people she could hear speaking next door was a man. It came to her with terrifying suddenness. From that moment when her own heart had quieted and she had really begun to listen, it had been Lilian’s voice to which she had been listening. And then suddenly there was a man speaking. It was strange to her, and yet not strange at all. It wasn’t Jim’s voice. Quite definitely it wasn’t his.
She went on moving slowly and carefully until she came to the door between the two rooms. Her hands groping in front of her felt the panels of the door. They came flat against it and stayed there. Her forehead came down between them and was pressed against the dark panel. She heard the man say, ‘You’d much better leave it all to me,’ and in that moment she knew that the man who was speaking was the man who had watched her in the garden. She had been on her knees planting the bulbs, and she had looked up and seen him. It swept out of her memory and caught her back. It took her a moment to shake it off and to come again to the dark room with her hands pressed against the door and her forehead leaning against it. It took her a moment to be where she was, not where she had been.
She came back and listened to the voices on the other side of the dark door. She must
have missed something, because what she heard was Lilian again – not what she said, but her voice leaving off as if she had been speaking and then had stopped. And quite clear on that again, the man’s voice, a little louder.
‘Dry up, will you! The less you know about this the better! You do what you’re told and that’s all you’ve got to bother about!’
‘I don’t think—’
‘You don’t need to think! You do just what you’re told and no harm will come to you! You start thinking, and before you know where you are you’ll be in difficulties! And if you get into difficulties, you can get out of them all on your own as far as I’m concerned!’
Then Lilian again.
‘Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. I wish you wouldn’t – you confuse me so – I only meant—’
He said, ‘Dry up! You’d better! When I want you to think or plan anything I’ll let you know! Which room is she in?’
‘Upstairs. But I don’t think—’
‘Dry up! I’ll take her now – no time like the present. She’s been here long enough – too long. If I’d thought for a moment… Now, look here—’
Anne seemed to come to herself. She had this minute – only this minute. It didn’t matter what they said, or what they were going to say, she had just this minute in which to save herself. Her hands, which were flat on the door, pushed her back from it. It was as if they had a life and energy of their own. They pushed her, and she was upright. And then the same curious force seemed to turn her and she retraced her steps. There was just one moment when she stopped. She was half-way to the door, and the man laughed. Everything in her went cold at the sound. She stopped and stood with her bare feet on the thick, warm carpet and felt the deadly cold pass over her. She did not know that the laugh might have driven her into headlong flight. If it had done that, nothing could have saved her. It was the age-old instinct to be still, not to move, that had saved her. She stood and waited. When her pulses had died down she moved on towards the door.
It was terrible to leave the dark room for the lighted hall. It was harder now than it had been. The thought went through her mind that if it was so hard as not to be possible she was lost. The fear of that struck into her and took her across the strip of lighted hall between the doorway of the dining-room and the door which led to the safe back stair.
When she was in the dark again, the terror that was upon her slackened a little. She came out upon the cross passage which ran through the house and made her way along it to the landing, and so back again to her room.
The room felt safe, but it wasn’t. Nothing under this roof was safe. Nothing at all. She began to dress herself. The clothes she put on struck cold against her. She felt in the cupboard and found her coat and skirt and the shirt which went with it. She must be quick – oh, she must be quick. And she didn’t dare to make a light, she didn’t dare. She put on her shoes and stockings, and the shirt, and the coat and skirt, the hat, and the top coat, and she was at the door.
The passage was dark and empty. Just one more effort and she would be free. A tune and the fragment of a song came into her mind as she stood there looking out at the dark passage brightening towards the landing, darkening again on the other side.
One more river and that’s the river of Jordan,
One more river, one more river to cross.
Suddenly she felt quick, and clear, and calm. She was going to get away, and nobody was going to stop her.
She went quietly along the brightening way, across the landing, and made her way along the passage to the stair down which she had gone before.
TWENTY
WHEN THE BACK door shut behind her all her pulses leapt. She stood for a moment, hardly able to draw breath, hardly able to think. And then her hand let go of the door-handle. She was out. She was free. She could go away and never come back again.
She began to move, to get away from the house. She wasn’t safe here – so near. And she must go carefully. No tripping over anything, no noise. She must take her time, step by step, step by cautious step. No use thinking what she was going to do. What she had to do now was to get away, to get as far as she could from the man, and from Lilian. She must keep her mind steadily on getting away.
The most dangerous part was the immediate part. She had to skirt the house and come out into the drive. She was on the path to the back door, the path on the east side of the house. Every day she had seen tradespeople come in and go round to the back. It was a driving road but a narrow one. There was a space to turn in behind the ornamental screen of cypress and rhododendron which hid the back door. If she followed this driving road it would bring her out on to the main road. She went on until she was clear of the yard, until her breath came easier, until she believed that she was really going to get away.
The back way out lay before her. She could go a little faster now, but not too fast. She came in herself, on the dreadful possibility that if she ran she might lose control. She had a terrible quick picture of herself running and screaming – screaming – She stood quite still and fought down the thing that wanted to run and scream. When it was under lock and key, she began to walk again. She did not dare to run.
She began to think what she must do. There were the trains, but she did not know when the last one went. And what would she do when she reached the other end? She didn’t know whether you were allowed to stop in the station. She didn’t even know if it would be safe to stop. Nothing was safe any more, even now, even here. Nothing was safe. She had a little time in hand and no more – just a little time whilst Lilian and the man sat talking – before they discovered that she had run away. She had a curious moment when she saw this time as a handful of jewels, bright and glistening. She had them, and she had nothing more at all. If she did not make good use of them they would dissolve and melt away and be utterly gone. They would not keep. She must use them now.
There was a sound in her ears. It was the sound of a car coming up behind her. It startled her broad awake out of her fancies and her dreams. She didn’t know where it came from, or where it was going to. It went past her, going very fast and with no thought of her at all. She stood for a moment and watched it go. Gradually the sound of it died away. The bright light was gone and she was all alone in the dark again. She began to run towards the station.
She didn’t know when it came to her, but it stopped her dead. One minute she was running with only one thought in her mind, to reach light, people, the station, and then all of a sudden she was standing still, checked as if by a wall. There wasn’t any wall, there wasn’t anything to stop her going on to the station except the fact that it was no good going on, because there wouldn’t be any train until 6.20 in the morning. It was Thomasina who had mentioned the 6.20 only yesterday, and she had laughed and said, ‘How frightfully early!’ But it wasn’t early enough – it wasn’t nearly early enough. It must be about twelve o’clock – perhaps half-past twelve. Six hours before any train would leave the station. What was she to do? She stood quite still and shuddered. But it wouldn’t do to stand still. At any moment they might find out that she had run away, and he would come after her. She made a great effort and looked about her.
The night was not dark. A little fitful moonlight and some cloud that veiled it from time to time. There was a house not very far away. She tried to think whose it could be. The house lay on the right of the road. On the left there were open fields with no hedge to screen her. If the man came down the road in a car looking for her he would see her on the field side. No use getting in there. She turned to the house. Suppose she were to knock them up – tell them the truth. She said, ‘I can’t,’ and was swamped by the unbelievable story she would have to tell. And he, the man – he would only have to say she was his niece, his sister, and she had lost her memory and given them all a terrible fright. She didn’t even know his name. He could make up anything he liked about her, he could put up a tale that anyone would believe, and she hadn’t so much as the shred of a fact to bring against him.
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If she could only get to Miss Silver – if she could get to Jim. And then like a dizzying blow the thought struck her. Jim – wasn’t he in this? Lilian was. Something pulled at her heart. If Jim was in on this betrayal, she might as well give up. And then, quick on that, she found herself defending him. He wasn’t in on it – he couldn’t be. There were reasons why he couldn’t be. She would think of them presently. Not now – it didn’t matter now. What mattered at the present moment was that she should get off the road before anyone found her there.
She went to the right and climbed up half a dozen steps to the front door of the house that stood there, and as she did so a car came up the road behind her, going slowly.
TWENTY-ONE
JIM FANCOURT WENT to Scotland Yard as soon as he got up to town. He walked in on Frank Abbott, who was writing, and said with hardly a preliminary, ‘She doesn’t know anything.’
Frank laid down his pen and lifted his eyebrows.
‘She?’ he said.
Jim frowned.
‘Anne – the other girl – the one who found her dead. I told you all about it.’
Frank’s brows went a little higher.
‘All?’he said.
‘All I knew. I’ve got a little more, but not much.’
‘What have you got?’
‘I went down and saw Anne. She identified the bead I showed you. It was one of a string round Anne Borrowdale’s neck. She said the string was broken. She says she saw the beads there in the cellar – she did see them. I told her about going to the house with Miss Silver, and it all fits. She doesn’t remember going down to the cellar. Her recollection begins half-way down the stairs like I told you. She went down, and made sure that the girl she saw was dead. I told you all that, didn’t I? And when she was sure, she wanted to get away, and I don’t blame her. Do you?’
‘No.’
The Girl in the Cellar (The Miss Silver Mysteries Book 32) Page 8