The motor car clattered up the drive and snorted to a halt outside the great front door, which had been hewn from old English oak two centuries earlier. Ormerod helped me down from my seat.
‘Thou art to go straight in, Miss Emma. Thou will find Sir Joshua in the library.’
We went into the oak-panelled hall, which was half-obscured by the shadows cast by the flickering gas jets as they strove to take over from the fast fading day. I removed my motoring coat and the sou’wester and handed them to Ormerod.
‘Ormerod, can you tell me …’ I ventured.
‘No, miss, it’s better that thou go straight in.’ I suggested that it might be more polite if I were to freshen up first, but he would have none of it. He took the coat and the sou’wester and left me standing before the library door. I tapped lightly.
‘Come.’
I opened the door and entered the room. At the far end was a log fire flickering in the grate. This was flanked by two wing chairs, both of which were turned three-quarters toward the fire. On the arm of the right-hand chair, I could see a hand.
‘Uncle Josh?’
‘Emma, my dear, I want you to stay where you are for a moment. No, don’t come closer until I tell you.’ I had taken a pace towards him. ‘Emma, I wish that I could spare you this, but I cannot, and within the next thirty seconds you are going to receive a shock. Now please understand that I don’t mind whatever your reaction may be. You may scream, faint, or display any other expression of disgust or alarm. This is something which face you must, for you are going to have to live with it for as long as you are here at Goathlands. Do you understand?’
‘Not really, Uncle,’ I replied hesitantly. ‘But I shall try to.’
‘That will be sufficient for the moment. Now I want you to walk straight over to the fire, turn, and face me. And Emma, don’t be too afraid of what you will see.’
Slowly, nervously, I walked to the fireplace and gripped the mantelpiece with my hands.
‘Look, Emma, look!’
It was a command. I took a deep breath and turned.
For the first time in my life, I fainted.
Chapter Two
‘Welcome home, cousin.’
Henry was bending over me, his handsome face looking positively boyish in the firelight. I tensed in the chair in which I was sitting and stared toward the one which had been occupied by Uncle Joshua.
‘Don’t worry, Emma, he’s gone.’ Henry smiled sympathetically. ‘He won’t come back until you are ready. Here, drink this. Come now, it is purely medicinal.’
He handed me a glass of brandy, pressing it into my hand. ‘Go on now, you need it.’
I sipped the brandy and tried to collect my thoughts. Was it true? Was that mass of purple scar tissue really my father’s brother? In the fleeting glimpse I had had, I had been unable to take in any details but it was horrible … horrible.
‘Hello, Henry.’ I tried to smile. ‘Did I … was it really Uncle Josh?’
‘Oh yes, it was him, all right.’
‘But nobody told me. I never knew. When, how did it happen?’
‘In the fire. He’s been like that for two years. For weeks after it happened we just waited for him to die, but he didn’t. He refused to. Day after day, only his will stood between him and the grave, and when he finally recovered sufficiently to look at himself in a mirror, it was only his will that kept him from going mad. He has never been out-of-doors since, and he swears that no one outside of his family will ever look upon his face for as long as he lives.’
I did not reply. Henry seemed to be very understanding; he stood in silence while I sipped my brandy. I glanced at his face, which was devoid of any expression. When he caught my eye, a faint smile flickered across his lips. Was he laughing at me? Was it a smile of sympathetic friendship? Or was he mocking me for my squeamishness? I did not know, but I had to prove myself. ‘Henry,’ I said, ‘ask him to come back.’
‘Are you sure?’ he queried.
‘Quite sure,’ I replied. ‘It was unkind of me to lose control as I did. I must see him right away. Now.’
‘Very well, if you insist.’ His smile strengthened. Was it sardonic? How I wished I could answer that.
‘Are you trying to prove something?’ he asked. ‘This can wait till morning, you know. He will quite understand.’
‘Yes, Henry, I am trying to prove something, and it cannot wait till morning. It must be now.’
‘Whatever you wish,’ said Henry, again with that enigmatic smile, and he was gone.
I was alone in the library; it was probably the room that I knew least in the whole house. In Grandfather’s day it had been his inner sanctum, into which children did not intrude. I had never felt really comfortable in the library and now … The thing I had seen, could that really be my dear Uncle Joshua? Now I was committed to facing him again. I knew that I was right in insisting that it had to be now. For if I did not see him then, I knew that nothing in the wide world would persuade me to spend a single night in that house.
The fleeting glimpse I had had of my uncle had left no clear impression in my mind’s eye. I knew only that he looked horrible, but, knowing that, I felt that I should now be able to accept the physical fact and see beneath the surface to the kindly, jolly man I used to know. My thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the door.
‘Come in,’ I said, thinking that it was rather strange of Henry to knock. But it was not Henry who answered my summons; it was a woman I had never seen before. She was tall and thin. Her features were flat, almost oriental; she had small eyes set wide apart, thin lips, and black hair drawn severely back from her forehead into a bun at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a black satin gown which had starched lace cuffs and a Tudor ruff. The severity of her dress was relieved by a single cameo on her bosom which I immediately recognized as having belonged to my aunt. She was dressed rather as one would expect a housekeeper to dress, and though Goathlands was large, it had never to my knowledge boasted a housekeeper.
‘Miss Waldron?’ In contrast to her severe appearance, her voice was low and soft, as well as being extremely cultured. ‘I am Susan Harrison. Henry told me that you wanted to see Sir Joshua immediately. If you would care to accompany me, I will take you to him.’
Who was she? She had referred to Cousin Henry by his first name; this alone indicated that she was more than a servant. I resolved to ask her straight out. It was somewhat forward of me, no doubt, but I had no desire to be plagued by more mysteries.
‘Miss Harrison?’ I questioned. ‘It is “Miss”, is it not?’ The woman nodded, smiling a little. I continued, ‘May I be so presumptuous as to inquire as to your position in this house? I hope I do not offend by asking you, but I have been away for some years and I should like to find out as quickly as possible who people are. You’re not a guest, are you?’ I had couched my rather rude question in the most inoffensive terms that I could think of on the spur of the moment.
She remained smiling faintly as I spoke. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘I am not a guest. I am a doctor.’ Observing my puzzled expression, she added, ‘I am a doctor of medicine. I live at Goathlands and I attend Sir Joshua, as well, of course, as anyone else in the house who should need my services. You seem surprised.’
I was completely taken aback. I had of course heard that there were such persons as lady doctors. There must have been a dozen or more throughout the country, but I had never met one, nor had I ever expected to meet one. And certainly not a lady doctor who was attending a male patient, and that no other than my uncle.
‘I think we had better go and see Sir Joshua now,’ she continued. ‘He is expecting you, and he retires early. Anyhow, you and I can talk after dinner. Will you come with me now, please?’
‘Yes, of course, Miss … er … Doctor,’ I murmured, feeling somewhat embarrassed at granting that title to another woman.
As we walked through the corridors toward the rebuilt west wing, I discovered that Uncle Josh had had an apartment con
structed there for his own use, and that he seldom ventured beyond it. Dr. Harrison informed me that the only other room in the house which he ever visited was the library, and that only when he wanted some text which was not easily explainable to her.
When we reached the door of his sitting room, she stopped and turned to me. Her tone had lost its softness and her voice had become quite firm, almost hard in fact. ‘Remember,’ she said, ‘he is not a pretty sight, but this is something you are going to live with. I don’t want him hurt by any display of emotion.’ And then, almost echoing my own thoughts, she said, ‘The kindest thing you can do is to ignore his disfigurement and treat him just as you would if he looked the same as when last you saw him.’
There was great authority in her voice, and I felt a little afraid of her. However, I felt that this was probably a good thing, since it made me feel much less afraid of what I was about to see.
‘I’ll be all right,’ I said.
‘Good,’ she replied. ‘He will ring if I should be needed. You can go in now.’ And with that she was gone. She didn’t seem to walk away; she just turned on her heel and disappeared in the shadows of the corridor where we stood.
I was now alone and on the threshold of looking again upon that fearsome mass of scar tissue which had been my beloved uncle. For a moment, panic welled within me. I wanted to turn and fly, to find Ormerod and beg him to take me away from Goathlands for good. But the feeling was momentary. What kind of a person was I, to place so high a value on physical beauty? The man I was going to see was Uncle Joshua, the same Uncle Josh who used to piggy-back me around the nursery, who used to press an illegal piece of chocolate into my hand when I had already had my ration for the day. What sort of a person was I, to let a mere physical deformity turn me from one I had always loved?
I raised my hand to tap upon the door, but before it could fall, a voice from within the room interrupted me.
‘Emma, don’t run away; please come in. I did not lie when I said that I needed you.’
I took a deep breath and turned the doorknob. The glass felt cold to the touch, for my hands were very hot. I walked into the room.
He was standing with his back to the fire as I entered. I held my head high and looked straight at him. I swallowed and tried hard to smile, all the time feeling the tears welling in my eyes. I ran my tongue over my dry lips and opened my mouth to greet him, but no word came.
How can I describe him? The left side of his face was almost as it had been, but the right side was completely covered with mottled purple scars. His right ear had gone completely, and his poor right eye stared sightlessly from a jagged hole. The right side of his scalp was completely bald, made all the more revolting by the tufts of hair still remaining on his good side. I understood now that Henry had not been exaggerating when he suggested that a weaker man might have gone mad at the first sight of what had once been his face.
‘Take a good look, Emma, for in this I can spare you nothing.’ Only the left side of his mouth moved as he spoke. ‘But remember, no pity. Pity is a weak emotion, and it is strength that I need from you.’
‘Yes, Uncle Josh,’ I answered weakly.
‘Welcome home, my dear,’ he said, and tried to smile a greeting. ‘Come and sit down. I am not going to ask you to stay for more than a moment. I do know that I am not a very handsome sight, and I am also aware that our first meeting was a great shock to you. Would you care to join me in a glass of sherry?’ And as I started to protest, he said, ‘You will find two glasses already poured on that table over there; forgive me, I’m sorry.’
He had indicated the table in question with his right hand, which until now, had been behind his back. There was no hand but just a smooth stump where the hand had once been.
‘That’s all right, Uncle,’ I replied, feeling my self-control creeping back. ‘And I should love to drink a glass of sherry with you.’
‘Good girl,’ he said, and indicated his handless arm. ‘This is, of course, the reason that I must have someone to do my writing for me. Thank you,’ he said as I handed him the glass. ‘We have only a few minutes before the dressing-gong, and I am sure you must be hungry after your journey.’
‘If you don’t mind, I would rather not go down to dinner tonight. It has been a very exhausting day, and I should like to retire early. Perhaps a sandwich and a glass of warm milk in my room?’ I did not of course tell him that the shock of seeing him in his present condition had entirely sapped any reserves of energy I might have possessed.
‘Just as you wish, my dear.’ Almost as though he had read my thoughts, he added, ‘And seeing me has made the thought of polite table talk an embarrassment, eh?’
For a few moments we sipped our sherry in silence. I got the feeling that Uncle Joshua wanted me to use this first meeting merely to accustom myself to his appearance. This opinion was confirmed when after a long moment of silence he said, ‘Emma, I am not going to talk to you tonight. We shall meet again at ten-thirty tomorrow morning when we can discuss at length what I need of you. I am sure that you would prefer that we do it that way.’
‘Whatever you say, Uncle Josh,’ I replied. The conflict between fatigue and curiosity was quite overwhelming, but I was quite sure that he was right. In my heart I welcomed his suggestion.
‘I shall arrange for Barton to take milk and sandwiches to your rooms. By the way, have you seen them yet?’
‘No, Uncle. Shall I not be going back to my old room?’ I asked.
‘You are to have your grandmother’s bedroom and sitting room in the east wing. I think you will be quite at home there. I arranged for some of your own furniture to be moved in to make it more familiar.’
‘That was very kind and thoughtful,’ I replied. ‘But you need not have bothered. My old room would have been perfectly satisfactory. I was very fond of it, you know.’
‘Emma, for as long as you care to stay here, I want you to regard yourself as mistress of Goathlands. That is why you are to occupy those rooms. As far as the house is concerned, you will have an entirely free hand, and … But here I am chattering away, and unless I am mistaken, that is the dressing-gong I hear. Would you be so kind as to ring?’
I pulled the tapestry bell pull, which was close to my left hand. Within a moment, Dr. Harrison came into the room.
‘Emma has decided not to dine tonight and is going to her rooms now. Would you tell Barton to take warm milk and sandwiches up before he serves dinner?’
‘Of course,’ replied Dr. Harrison. ‘Are you ready now, Miss Waldron?’
I looked at Uncle Josh, who nodded faintly. I rose, feeling a little uncomfortable. Had the doctor not been present I think I might have had the courage to kiss his poor scarred brow. On the other hand, her presence saved me from making a gesture which may have been an embarrassment to both of us.
‘Doctor,’ I said, ‘I know the way very well. I am sure that I can find my grandmother’s room. There is really no need for you to bother.’ I smiled at her, trying not to make it sound like a snub. In this I fear I failed, but I really did want to be alone and I found the lady doctor a strangely dominant person.
‘Just as you wish, Miss Waldron,’ she replied, with no hint of her feelings in the soft tones of her voice.
‘Good night, Uncle,’ I said. ‘Ten-thirty?’ He nodded, and I left the room.
Goathlands is a substantial, though not an enormous, house. I walked slowly along the corridors and through the hall, up the main staircase and onto the second floor of the east wing, which housed my grandparents’ apartments. I remembered my grandmother’s rooms well; the entrance to them was through the second door along the main corridor. As a child I had always regarded it as a great treat to take afternoon tea with her in her sitting room. As I entered, I could almost see her surrounded by the silver tea service, the cucumber sandwiches, and the little cakes covered with pink icing with a cherry in the centre of each one.
I went through into the bedroom. Here an old and familiar sight met my gaze
, for lying on the covers, his head on the pillow, was my dear Nana. Nana was my teddy bear; my father had given him to me on my third birthday. He was much bigger than I was at the time, and he was soft and cuddly and I loved him. How kind of someone to remember this and put him there.
The lights were on, and a wave of nostalgia crept over me as I looked at the familiar flowered wallpaper, the chintzes and the curtains all a mass of pink roses, the dressing table wearing its pretty rosebud farthingale, and Grandmama’s great four-poster bed with its lace hangings and scalloped baldachino. In the sitting room, the rosewood table, the regency chairs, and the lovely, soft, comfortable chesterfield all conjured up memories of a wonderfully happy childhood.
I started fantasizing. I could hear Grandmama’s voice again as she patted the chesterfield and bade me sit beside her. I remembered the soft tread of my nanny’s feet as she came to collect me and return me to the nursery at the end of what was always one of the happiest hours of the day. Grandmama played a very vital part in my childhood. I never knew my mother, since she died when I was born, but no one could have ever been more of a mother to me than my darling Grandmama.
There was a tap on the door of the sitting room, and Barton came in with my tray. Here was another old friend, another link with the past. As a young man he had entered service with my grandfather and had gone to the Boer War as my father’s batman. After my father was killed, Barton had returned to Goathlands, where now he was Uncle Joshua’s butler. He greeted me warmly, and I responded in like manner. Then I asked him whether the water was hot, as I wished to take a bath after my journey.
‘Oh, yes, Miss Emma,’ he replied. ‘You’ll never go short of hot water here. And by the way, Miss, Sir Joshua has ordered me to engage a personal maid for you. Would you like me to send her up so you can meet her?’
I did not want to appear unkind, but I really was tired. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I shall bathe and go straight to bed,’ I replied.
Mistress of the Moor: A gripping gothic romance mystery Page 2