Mistress of the Moor: A gripping gothic romance mystery

by Abigail Clements

  ‘Good evening, Barton,’ I said. ‘I will have Mr. Attwood on my right and Mr. Henry on my left.’

  ‘Very good, Miss Emma,’ he replied. ‘I hope you will pardon my mentioning it, Miss Emma, but I was informed that you had been feeling unwell. I trust that you are now quite recovered?’

  ‘Thank you, Barton, I am feeling much better,’ I replied.

  Having attended to my duties in the dining room, I returned to the withdrawing room. I had only been there a moment or two when I heard the gong sound in the hall. Dr. Harrison came in.

  ‘Really, Miss Waldron, I must protest,’ she said, coming straight to the point. ‘I gave you certain advice and you seem to have ignored everything I said. You must understand that I cannot hold myself responsible for ‒’

  ‘Dr. Harrison,’ I interrupted her calmly, ‘I thank you for your concern. As to responsibility, I fully accept that myself, and I quite understand that if I should choose to ignore your advice, I do so entirely at my own risk. Now, shall we say no more about it?’

  Her eyes blazed. It was obvious that she was making an effort to control herself. That she had a temper, I knew well. The incident in Uncle Joshua’s room had proved that. I looked at the anger in her face. Could she be the one? Perhaps; it was so hard to suspect either of the others. And what could be her motive? Perhaps she feared that my presence at Goathlands might reduce her influence over Uncle Joshua? If she wanted to control my uncle, it would be for a reason known only to herself. If this was the truth, he really did need me here; it made my presence in the house even more important.

  ‘I did not want to be forced into this position, Miss Waldron,’ she said. ‘But unless you are sensible and do as I suggest, I shall be forced to a point where I shall have no alternative other than to lay the whole matter before your uncle, even though it may cause him some distress.’

  This was one thing I could not permit. ‘Doctor,’ I replied firmly, ‘I absolutely forbid you to say anything on this matter. I will not have Sir Joshua worried.’

  She was clearly very angry at my reply and was about to say something, but was prevented by the arrival of Henry.

  ‘Good evening, ladies,’ he said, smiling gaily. ‘Would either of you care for an aperitif?’

  ‘Thank you, we would not,’ Dr. Harrison declined for both of us.

  ‘I will answer for myself, doctor, if you don’t mind,’ I said coldly.

  ‘Well, coz?’ said Henry, smiling that strange crooked smile of his. ‘I think it would do you good.’

  ‘I will take a very small glass of sherry wine,’ I said defiantly.

  ‘That’s new, I must say,’ said Henry. I do not think that Henry had really expected me to take anything.

  ‘I have never known you to take an aperitif,’ he continued. ‘Amontillado?’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, having no idea what he meant.

  It was quite true, I had never taken a drink before a meal. Underneath my brave exterior there was a very frightened little girl trying to get out. I had heard gentlemen remark on occasion that a small quantity of alcoholic beverage was a help under trying circumstances. I had been forced into a situation where I should be able to put their theory to the test.

  I looked at Henry closely as he handed my glass to me. His smile was not really crooked, more whimsical. No, not Henry. He, in spite of all his weaknesses, had been so kind and considerate toward me, and had not Uncle Joshua assured me that it was Henry’s wish that I should come to Goathlands? If that was true, then he would need to be evil beyond belief to have wanted me here only so that he might destroy me.

  ‘Your health, coz.’ He raised his glass.

  I sipped my sherry wine. I must say that it gave a most pleasant feeling of warmth, though I did not altogether approve of the taste. I glanced towards Doctor Harrison; she sat there grimly, silent and disapproving. Henry seemed, if anything, amused by the situation. I looked round as Roger came into the room.

  ‘Good heavens, Emma,’ he said, looking at my glass. ‘You’ll get tight. I heard that you were not well, there’s nothing serious, is there?’

  His last question was directed partially to Dr. Harrison.

  ‘Miss Waldron is being very ‒’

  I stopped the doctor before she could say ‘foolish.’

  ‘I suppose that I should feel flattered by all this concern over my health,’ I remarked. ‘But I am really quite well and would be grateful if the subject were discussed no further.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said with mock meekness. ‘I hear and obey. Dry sherry, please, Henry.’

  As Roger got his drink, I took a good look at him. Of all three present, I knew him least well. Yet, I could not help feeling strangely attracted to this seemingly gay, flamboyant man. Henry was in a formal dinner jacket, the sort of thing one would expect, but not Roger. He was wearing a normal dinner suit, but his coat was a deep purple velvet smoking jacket with silk facings and black silk cord embroidery. His hair was just a little too long, and that unruly forelock kept falling across his brow and constantly being pushed back into position. Was it conceivable that this charming overgrown schoolboy was the one?

  But then, it is said that the devil himself has infinite charm. I was determined that I should not jump to conclusions. As, sadly, it had to be someone, I should have preferred it to be Dr. Harrison, but that was only because I did not like her, and I must not let personal prejudice colour my judgement. I had to keep my resolve, keep a completely open mind and watch and wait.

  ‘I think I am of a mind to go riding tomorrow,’ I said quite deliberately.

  ‘I doubt if that would be wise, Miss Waldron,’ said Dr. Harrison.

  ‘Where were you thinking of going?’ asked Roger.

  ‘Just around the estate,’ I replied.

  ‘You’d better be careful if you are going out tomorrow,’ said Henry. ‘Ormerod will be burning stubble in the bottom field if the weather holds.’

  ‘In that case, it might be nice to ride over and see him,’ I said.

  Further discussion of my proposed ride was halted by the arrival of Barton, who announced that dinner was served. I went over to Roger.

  ‘Would you do me the honour of taking me in?’ I asked him.

  ‘It would be a privilege,’ he replied, offering me his arm.

  I laid my hand on his. As I have said before, his were big peasant’s hands, strong and firm with skin like sandpaper, quite out of keeping with the rest of his appearance, which was cultured and gentle. As we approached the dining room and Henry and Dr. Harrison stood aside to allow us to precede them, I felt an urge to move closer to Roger than propriety would allow. Of course, I did no such thing. In truth, I found his presence strangely though pleasantly disturbing.

  It was almost with regret that I took my hand away and allowed him to seat me. Roger went to his place, Henry mumbled a perfunctory grace, and Barton commenced serving the meal.

  When we ladies withdrew after dinner, Dr. Harrison immediately left me. I realized that she had not spoken a word since we had gone in to eat. She must have been very angry with me. I nibbled at a bonbon and poured myself a cup of coffee. I noticed that my hand was trembling slightly as I did this. Though I was quite proud of my performance thus far, I was well aware that it was a performance and that the threat and the fear were still very much there.

  I was sitting alone when Roger and Henry, having finished their cigars, came to join me.

  ‘What, no doctor?’ asked Roger.

  ‘I don’t think she was feeling too well, she retired early,’ I replied as I poured their coffee.

  I handed them their cups, aware that both men were watching me intently. What, I wondered, had they been discussing in there?

  ‘Would you care for a turn around the house before retiring?’ Henry asked me.

  ‘I’ll come too, if I may,’ Roger said before I had a chance to reply.

  I would have dearly loved to have done that. It was a beautiful night and Goathlands wa
s a very romantic spot on such an evening. I knew that I could not do it; the strain was beginning to tell. Perhaps if Roger had asked me alone?

  ‘Thank you so much,’ I replied. ‘It has been a very tiring day and I really feel that I should like to go to bed now, so if you will excuse me …’

  We said our good nights, and I left them and went up to my rooms.

  When I arrived there, I found Letty busy with warming pans.

  ‘Oh, miss,’ she said when she saw me. ‘I’m so glad to see you so much better after your turn.’

  ‘Dear Letty,’ I replied. ‘You were very good to me today, I shall not forget it, I promise you.’

  ‘That’s nothing, miss,’ she said. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘There is one thing. Will you be seeing either of the grooms tonight?’

  ‘There’s one of them, Arthur, he wants to take me for a walk, miss.’

  ‘Well, you be careful with your Arthur, Letty,’ I warned.

  ‘Oh, I haven’t decided to go yet.’

  ‘Well, it is your business, Letty,’ I said.

  ‘Not if Mr. Barton catches me it isn’t, miss.’

  ‘Well, in any case, I want you to give Arthur a message for me.’ I knew that Ormerod would have gone back to his cottage by that time, so I had to send my instructions to the groom. ‘Will you tell your Arthur that I shall be riding Honey tomorrow morning, so I should like him to bring him in and groom him before ten o’clock. And tell him to let Mr. Ormerod know.’

  ‘I’ll do that, miss. Now if Mr. Barton catches me I’ll be able to tell him that I’m just delivering a message from the mistress.’

  ‘All right, Letty,’ I said, laughing. ‘That will be all, except don’t bring the morning tea tomorrow, I want to sleep right through.’

  I had actually laughed. I watched Letty go with a smile; that child was good to me. I should have to make a few discreet inquiries about this Arthur and see if he was good for Letty.

  What a day it had been. I think that in the last twelve hours I had been through every emotion I had ever known. Now that I was alone at last, I wondered what the morrow would bring.

  I undressed slowly, thinking, I must sit for a while in my dressing gown, before the fire. I locked the outer door and sat down, looking into the flames. It did not work, however. There was no relaxation, and I knew that what I needed most of all was rest. Anyway, I thought, they all knew what I intended to do tomorrow, and I would do it, but I would be on my guard and watching every moment.

  Perhaps tomorrow I would discover the identity of my enemy, or perhaps …? But I was not going to think about that.

  I went to bed and slept without dream or disturbance.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next morning I awoke and stretched my body luxuriously as consciousness came to me. I got out of bed, put on my dressing gown, and opened the curtains. The hands of my bedroom clock pointed to ten o’clock. I had slept for twelve hours. Physically, I felt refreshed and well; the last vestiges of the aches and pains from my fall had gone. Mentally, I felt alert, and my determination to follow my plan was as strong as ever. I was still nervous and had to admit that I was rather frightened at the thought that, by telling everyone what I intended to do today, I had made of myself a willing target. Of course, there was always the other side of the coin: perhaps, for just those reasons, my assailant might decide not to try anything.

  As I dressed in my riding habit, once more beautiful thanks to Letty’s ministrations, I planned my route. If Ormerod was going to burn the stubble in the bottom field, he would need a breeze from the north or east. As far as I could tell from looking out of my window, he had this. A north-easterly would mean that the fire would travel in the direction of Blawath Beck, where it would burn itself out, thus being quite safe. He would probably light a strip parallel with the stream and about fifteen yards away from the bank. He would burn this first in order to create a fire break. He would then move back and burn off the remaining width of the field in two sections. I decided that I would first ride round the boundary and then watch some of the burning from the top of Northdale Scar.

  I left my rooms and made for the dining room, where I found, as I had expected, that breakfast had long been cleared away. I decided that I would go down to the kitchen, as I had so often done as a child, and see what I could wheedle out of Mrs. Jollyman. When I arrived, I found Letty sitting at the big white kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea. She jumped up as I entered.

  ‘Was you looking for me, Miss Emma?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t know you was up yet, can I get you anything?’

  ‘It’s all right, Letty,’ I replied. ‘I would like some breakfast, but I think I had better ask cook myself.’

  I was sufficiently aware of the hierarchy below stairs to realize that asking Letty to produce breakfast for me down there was like asking her to commit high treason.

  ‘Please, miss,’ she said, ‘I told Arthur about your horse, miss.’

  ‘Good, then I expect that it will be ready for me,’ I said as Mrs. Jollyman came in carrying a basket of vegetables.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs. Jollyman,’ I greeted her.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Emma,’ she replied, placing her basket on the table. ‘And what can we do for you today?’

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to find me a bit to eat. I missed breakfast,’ I added by way of explanation.

  ‘Slept in, eh?’ said Mrs. Jollyman, hands on hips and adopting that expression of mock ferocity which I had learned to ignore at the age of four.

  ‘Yes, I slept in,’ I answered meekly.

  ‘Shall I bring you something up, miss?’ asked Letty.

  ‘You will do no such thing, my girl,’ snapped Mrs. Jollyman. ‘Just set a place for your mistress at the table here while I cook her some breakfast.’

  I watched as, using just one hand, she broke two eggs into the frying pan and placed a thick slice of home cured York ham on the grill. I could see that I was not going to eat any lunch. When we were children, we always had been able to beg a meal off Mrs. Jollyman, but we would feel the sharp edge of her tongue if we should dare to leave any scraps on our plates. I was amused to find that this had been so bred into me that I knew that whatever Mrs. Jollyman placed before me, I would eat in its entirety. A mug of strong tea and a thick slice of freshly baked bread and butter completed my breakfast.

  Feeling somewhat overfed, I thanked Mrs. Jollyman and left the house in the direction of the stables.

  The big barn was open when I arrived there, and Kittiwake was standing outside. Roger was sitting in the cockpit with a row of tools laid out in front of him. He hailed me as I was passing.

  ‘Just going, or have you been?’ he asked.

  ‘Just got out of bed,’ I replied.

  ‘Lucky you,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been at this since eight and I daren’t stop; look.’ He pointed in the direction of the house.

  I was just able to make out a shape at Uncle Joshua’s window. I waved in his direction, and he waved back in reply.

  ‘Which way are you going?’ asked Roger.

  ‘Round the boundary to Northdale Scar. I’ll watch the burning from there and then come home,’ I replied.

  ‘I might wander out in that direction and meet you after I have finished here,’ said Roger.

  ‘Are you going to ride?’ I asked.

  ‘No, no, I think I shall walk,’ he answered.

  ‘Well, I must get along,’ I said. ‘Where is Basil?’

  ‘You’re all right going through the barn,’ replied Roger. ‘He’s in his kennel. He wouldn’t touch you anyway, he’s all bark and no bite.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ll wait until I know him better before I take any chances with him.’

  I carried on to the stables, where I found Arthur waiting for me.

  ‘I saw you coming, miss. Shall I tack up Honey? He’s all ready,’ said Arthur.

  I told him to go ahead, and he disappeared
into Honey’s loose box. He seemed to be rather a long time, so I went over to the box and looked in. Arthur was looking at the leathers under the saddle flap.

  ‘What are you doing, Arthur?’ I asked.

  ‘Sorry to be so long, miss, but Mr. Ormerod told me that I was not to hand the horse over to you until I had inspected every inch of tack and every stitch.’

  I was glad to hear that Ormerod was not taking any chances.

  ‘He told me that if you had an accident he would beat the living daylights out of me,’ concluded Arthur.

  He led Honey out. I pulled the girth up another hole, and Arthur led him over to the mounting block. It seemed that the privilege of giving me a leg up was reserved to Ormerod alone.

  I mounted and was just about to move off when Arthur interrupted me.

  ‘Excuse me, miss, I almost forgot. Mr. Ormerod asked me to give you this.’ He handed me an apple.

  Dear Ormerod, he had thought of everything. Honey, being the creature he was, was quite aware of this transaction and of its implications. He stretched his head back toward me and started to turn in a tight left hand circle, no doubt hoping to catch up with himself. I knew that I should not have given the apple to him then, but I did. I had the feeling that it would probably be much easier to accede to Honey’s request than to spend the next hour arguing about it. He munched the apple while I sat waiting; he managed to drop half. Arthur retrieved it and informed me that I was spoiling Honey.

  The pre-ride ritual having been completed to Honey’s satisfaction, we set off down Howl Moor in the direction of Nelly Ayre Fosse, retracing our steps of Wednesday. As I rode along at a brisk trot, I began to feel free again. It was marvellous to feel the cool autumn breeze in my hair, and to breathe in the beautiful clean smell of the clear Yorkshire air, which was spiced with just the faintest tang of the sea. Both of these things helped me to relax and to enjoy my ride.