by Jane Godman
“This is Baron Karol.” Eddie’s voice seemed to come to me from the end of a long tunnel. “Baron, this is my fiancée, Dita Varga. As I explained when we met, she is a countrywoman of yours, so I expect you will have a great deal to talk about.” He seemed to feel the circumstance was a matter for some congratulation. In something approaching a trance, I gave my hand to the man who stepped forward. He was big and bearlike, handsome in a blond, boyish manner that did not survive comparison with the sleek beauty of the Jago men. As he pressed warm lips to my fingertips, he gave me a wolfish smile of triumph.
“I told you I would find you, my jewel,” Sandor said in a pleasantly conversational tone. He spoke in our own language. “You were foolish to try and hide from me.”
“Baron?” I asked him, also in Hungarian. “You have new aspirations to grandeur, I see.”
He laughed delightedly. “When I learned you were to be a countess one day, I decided to elevate myself to your chosen level. It was easy to dupe this aristocratic fool you have chosen.” The smile faded, and the man I knew and feared showed himself briefly in the darkening of his expression. “The time has come for us to finish with this nonsense.”
“I have invited the baron to stay with us for a few days before he leaves again for Hungary. I knew you would not object, Mama,” Eddie informed Lucy. She inclined her head gracefully in welcome, and Sandor turned his attention to her. He could be very charming—when he chose. I was aware of Cad watching my face closely, and I did my best to retrain my features into an expression of serenity.
“Are you in England on business, Baron?” Lucy asked, and Sandor went to sit next to her.
“I am indeed, my lady,” he said. “I came in search of a certain property of mine, a treasure that was bequeathed to me by a dear friend and that I had sadly mislaid. I have been seeking it for some time.” He had always called me his “jewel” or his “treasure,” ever since I was a child. His calm assumption that I was one of his possessions infuriated me. He knew it and was at pains to use the term all the more in order to annoy me.
“You don’t seem particularly pleased at this encounter with one of your countrymen.” Cad’s voice close to my ear made me start slightly. “Had you met the baron before today?”
“What makes you ask that?” Carefully, I evaded his question.
“The way you spoke to each other,” he explained. “I don’t understand your language, but you did not address each other with the formality of strangers. On the contrary, the depth of emotion in your tone resonated with familiarity.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you,” I said coldly. “There is no mystery here. I do not know Baron Karol.”
A strange, fey gleam lit his eyes and unnerved me. “Perhaps not,” he said coolly, “but do you know our unexpected guest?”
I bit my lip but was prevented from replying when Eleanor came into the room, blushing prettily and apologising for being so late. Sandor bowed low over her hand, his eyes full of admiration. A shy smile trembled on her lips, and she raised worshipful blue eyes to his face. The rest of us looked on as, in that brief heartbeat of time, Eleanor appeared to tumble headlong in love with the most notorious, bloodthirsty—yet undoubtedly charming—villain in all Europe.
The room was redolent with hidden tensions. I was aware of Lucy studying Eddie with concern, Tynan watching Sandor, Cad watching me, Sandor also casting glances my way and Eddie’s annoyance as he observed Eleanor flirting with Sandor. Suddenly, I was wearied by the undercurrents in this seemingly bland domestic scene. Dear God, save me from Tenebris moods and unrelenting Jago intrigue!
Tynan drew me to one side as the others made their way toward the dining room for lunch. “Am I correct in assuming that Eddie’s affable new acquaintance is none other than the Sandor Karol we have discussed?”
I nodded, biting my lip again to keep it from trembling. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, and, although his smile was gentle, I sensed a steely resolve behind his gentlemanly facade. “At least you now know exactly where he is. The waiting is over.”
“But I would not, for all the world, have brought him to your home.”
“I was under the impression that it was my son and heir who brought him, Miss Varga, not you.” The familiar amber twinkle lit his eyes. He offered me his arm and we began to follow the others. “Don’t look so worried, my dear. Trust me to know how to deal with this man when the time comes. Let us not denounce him and send him packing just yet. We will play the ‘baron’s’ game just a little longer.”
* * *
“Leave Eleanor alone,” I told Sandor at the first opportunity. I found it hard to believe I was standing in the elegant parlour of Athal House facing the man whose menacing presence had haunted my life for so long. Although my heart was pounding, I was less afraid than I had imagined I would be. In a way, I wished this encounter had come sooner. I was no longer a frightened young girl. Tenebris had made me aware that there were monsters in this world even more fearful than Sandor. I thought of Lucy and Tynan and their enduring love, despite the horrors that life had thrown at them. “You don’t want her, so stop playing this odious game.”
“Of course I don’t want her,” he said contemptuously. “What man would choose the insipid primrose when he can have the rose?”
“The one who is wise enough to accept that the rose is not his to claim?” I asked caustically, and he laughed.
“You are a rose in truth, Judita. But never fear, I will strip away those thorns.”
“You don’t own me, Sandor. You never did and you never will. Accept it.”
“That is not true,” he persisted stubbornly. “I am Liviu’s heir. All that was his passed to me.”
“I am not a possession!” I declared. “I do not belong to any man!” The declaration instantly summoned Cad’s implacable image into my mind. I dismissed it with difficulty. “My father had no right to promise me to you, but I renounce that promise.”
His features set hard in the brutal cast I had seen so many times. “I watched you grow, Judita. Or should I become used to calling you ‘Dita’ from now on? I always knew I had to have you. As you grew into a woman, your beauty haunted my dreams like the jewels Liviu kept in his vault. I warned you—that day in Elek when Liviu named me as his heir before all the men—not to fight me. I told you then that if you dared to even dream of giving your body to another man, I would tear the flesh from his face with my bare hands and see how much you liked his kisses then. Luckily for you—or perhaps for them—I have not heard stories of any lovers. But when I look at you now and see your vibrancy and sensuality, I find it hard to believe you have remained celibate. There will be time enough to discuss the matter further and take what action is needed when we are gone from here. You have already pushed me to the limit of my patience. I have not hunted you across Europe because I am your devoted slave. I have done it to prove to you that I will never give you up.”
The word “hunted” made me shiver. I knew his mania for me bordered on hatred. Sandor would kill me without flinching. I could almost feel his hands closing on my throat.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“When I arrived in Paris, I set my men to work. They told me there was some talk in the bars and cafés of a woman who possessed beauty and grace beyond perfection. I knew, when I heard those descriptions for myself, that they spoke of you, my treasure. You name was linked with an Englishman named Eddie Jago, who proved surprisingly easy to find. A few drinks later and it was as if we had been friends for life. Within the hour, I had myself an invitation to his ancestral home. He is a fool.” His face softened as he gazed at me. “He does not love you, my jewel, this man you have chosen. This Eddie Jago.” I felt a tingle of relief. At least he had not guessed the truth. He must never suspect it. “The only warmth in his eyes when they look on your face is of friendship. And you are more his mother than his lover.” It was an echo of the words Cad had spoken. “I came here to kill him, but there i
s no need. He is no threat to me. You are still mine. When I leave this place you will be with me. I would prefer it to be willingly, but it doesn’t matter. You will come anyway.”
I gave a groan of pure frustration and swung on my heel, walking straight into Cad’s unyielding frame. He caught my upper arms to steady me and, as always, his touch made me want to throw myself into his arms in the most wanton, undignified manner imaginable. I restrained myself. Cad was watching Sandor over the top of my head, his expression enigmatic, his jaw tight. My mind raced back over the words Sandor and I had just exchanged. But we had spoken in Hungarian. There was no way Cad could know what we had said.
I saw Sandor’s eyes narrow slightly as they flickered from Cad’s face to mine. Later, when we were alone once more, he drew me to one side and said in a low voice, “Make no mistake, my jewel. Don’t play games with me or I will be forced to give you a little taste of what you have done to me. I will show you how it feels to lose someone you value.” Foolishly, my fear at the time was that he might be speaking of Cad.
* * *
Inspector Miller, his long face wearing the mask of a man living a nightmare, spent over an hour in Tynan’s study. Tynan relayed the details of their discussion after dinner that night. We were all present except Eleanor and Sandor, a fact that I could see was troubling Lucy. Tynan explained that another body had been found close to the railway line in Wadebridge. It was not, as was first suspected, Nellie Smith. The dead woman was a known prostitute, but there could be no doubt that the same man who had murdered Amy Winton was responsible.
“You will all be aware that Cad has come under some scrutiny from Miller because he was the last person to see Amy Winton alive.”
“I was not the last person to see her alive,” Cad said deliberately, lifting his gaze from the fire, which he had been studying intently. “The last person to see that poor child alive ripped her apart with a knife.”
“And was it you?” I was surprised at the depth of venom in Eddie’s voice. A sneer thinned his lips. “Did you do that to her, Cad?”
“You know I didn’t do it, Ed,” Cad replied calmly, returning his brother’s stare steadily. An ugly flush stained Eddie’s cheeks, but he maintained his belligerent, challenging stance.
“We all know Cad didn’t do it,” Lucy reproached, diffusing the taut atmosphere.
“Nevertheless, we also know how rumours spread, particularly where our family is concerned.” Tynan regained control of the conversation once more. “Take care, my son,” he spoke directly to Cad. “If you were not a Jago, I believe that Miller would be taking a more forceful approach toward you.”
“Then we must do all we can to help him find the sick bastard who is responsible,” Cad stated firmly. “Mustn’t we, Ed?” Eddie nodded a terse agreement, although he still appeared hostile. I wondered, with a queasy feeling tugging at my insides, if he really believed Cad could commit such atrocities. His face told me he did, and my nausea intensified.
“Where is Eleanor?” Lucy asked at last.
“I believe she challenged the baron—” Did I imagine the slight, sardonic emphasis Cad placed on that word? “—to a few frames of billiards earlier. Shall we go and see how the game is unfolding, Ed? Dita?”
When we entered the large games room at the rear of the house, Eleanor was just bending over the table preparing to take a shot. Sandor was demonstrating how to take the shot, standing beside her with one arm holding her tight about the waist and the other clasping her hand as it held the cue. A furious expletive burst from Eddie’s lips and he charged toward them. Eleanor looked up with a welcoming smile. She and Sandor moved apart without embarrassment.
“Oh, Eddie, have you come to help me?” Eleanor asked, and her brother’s fury subsided somewhat. “I’m very much afraid to have to say this about one of your countrymen, Dita, but I fear the baron here may be a dreadful cheat!”
“How shocking,” Cad murmured to me as, bristling like a protective guard dog, Eddie went over to join the game. “What sort of person would attempt to live out a lie, Dita? Can you imagine?” He fixed a deceptively innocent gaze onto my face as he contemplated the question.
After agonising for several days, I took my burgeoning suspicions to Tynan, expecting him to either laugh or dismiss them as madness. Christmas was looming and the house was heaving with activity. Nevertheless, he listened with his usual courtesy. “So you see,” I explained anxiously watching his face, “I can’t help wondering if these murders might somehow be linked to me. And, if that is the case, it must be Sandor who is responsible for them.”
“I understand what you are saying about his obsession with you. I have been watching him and it is obvious. He never takes his eyes from your face, which does not bode well for my poor daughter. But why would his desire for you lead him to murder these other young women?” Tynan asked.
I shrugged. “Because he is evil. Because he can. Because he wants to warn me, show me what he can do. Because—oh, with Sandor, who knows? I have heard terrible stories of him killing men for sport. He would not flinch at this.”
He was silent, staring out the window for a long time. “Karol wasn’t here when those girls were murdered,” he said.
“Not openly,” I agreed. “But if it was intended to be a warning to me, he knew I would make the connection to him eventually. He may even have ordered someone to come down to Cornwall to do it.”
“You think his men would murder young girls at his command?” he enquired. “And in such an appalling manner? Is he really capable of something so foul?”
“He is capable of anything.” I bit my lip, picturing him with his arm about Eleanor’s waist. “And because of me, he came here and met your family.” I could never sufficiently regret that fact.
“My house and family have survived worse than Karol,” he said. I knew he was thinking of Arwen Jago and, more recently, his own uncle, Uther. “I still don’t see why you are so convinced that the murders have something to do with you.”
“Perhaps I would not have thought it, except that when I lived in Paris, six girls were murdered there,” I said. His brows drew together. “I don’t know the details, so I can’t say for sure if there was a connection. I may be allowing my imagination to run riot without reason.”
“I will make some enquiries about Paris,” he said. “And Karol will be gone from Tenebris before Christmas.”
“Yes,” I said doubtfully. I knew Sandor was determined to take me away with him. If I didn’t go willingly, he would take me by force. Having found me at last, he would not give up easily. Although I tried to prepare for any eventuality, I also knew how devious he could be.
* * *
Eleanor’s school friend, Victoria Cadwallader, arrived amid a flurry of activity and girlish giggling. She was planning to stay for three nights on her way to visit the family of her betrothed in Truro for Christmas. Her forthcoming wedding, to an up-and-coming solicitor with political aspirations, was the subject of extensive discussion between the two friends. Vicky, as she liked to be known, eyed me with wide-eyed admiration and seemed inclined to be intimidated by me. She was also reduced to girlish blushes and perpetual eyelash fluttering by the presence of the handsome Jago brothers and Sandor’s boyish charm.
It was the second day of Vicky’s visit, and the air was throat-cuttingly icy. Day and night had ceased to exist, and the world was a constant twilight of looming snow. Light faded to dank nothingness and the moon forgot to hide her face from daytime. Glistening, blue-tinged fog hung so low that the trees had no tops. The wind slapped our faces and bit the tips of our fingers and toes. We had bravely—or perhaps foolishly—escaped the confines of the house while the weather still allowed.
Porter informed me, in accents of deep gloom, that a snow moon was on the wax. When I asked what that meant, he had sighed heavily. “Cut off from the world, miss. That’s what we’ll be. One year it was nigh on three months before the drifts cleared.”
“At school, we were
so close and alike that some of the teachers thought we were sisters,” Eleanor informed me as the three of us strolled along the cliff top toward the village path. They linked my arms one on each side, with a natural, easy assumption that reminded me poignantly that I had never known the camaraderie of female friendship.
“You do look quite similar,” I agreed. It was true in the sense that they were both small, fair and slender. But Eleanor was strikingly pretty while Vicky was, I thought, quite plain, with a long narrow nose and teeth that were too prominent for her thin lips.
“You never told me how very good-looking your brothers are,” Vicky said with a titter.
“Are engaged ladies supposed to notice such things?” Eleanor asked.
“Oh, marriage has nothing whatsoever to do with fun!” Vicky declared, in the tones of a would-be sophisticate. “The most fashionable ladies all take lovers, you know. I do pity you, Eleanor dear, because single girls do not have the same freedom. We all know how fatal it would be to ruin your reputation before you have found yourself a husband.” I saw the deep flush that tinged Eleanor’s cheeks, but Vicky continued unabashed. “Of course, your older brother has already been claimed by Miss Varga here.” She nipped my arm playfully. “So perhaps I should turn my attentions to your other brother. I must say, Mr Cad Jago does have the most devilish air about him! I have always wondered what it would be like to be seduced by a rake.” She gave a theatrical shudder. “And then there is Baron Karol, who seems most gentlemanly and charming, for a foreigner. Really, Eleanor, I had no idea that this visit would prove to be so interesting!”
Deciding I preferred my own company to any further speculation about Cad’s sexual prowess, I left them to continue their walk into the village and took the perpendicular path toward the inland clearing known as Lucia’s Glade. The bare woods rang out the death knell of the year and freezing rain started to patter against the hood of my cloak. A biting wind tugged at my skirts and stung my face. My hands were numb inside my kid leather gloves, and I wriggled my toes within the snug depths of my boots. An icy blast, harsh enough to make me stagger, threw me off balance, and my feet skittered wildly on the frosty leaves that lined the path. My arms windmilled, and I tottered wildly for a moment until a pair of strong hands caught me about the waist from behind and held me upright. With a flutter of alarm, I thought of Amy Winton, Nellie Smith and those nameless girls in Paris. Why had I been so stupid as to wander off alone?