The Time of the Hunter's Moon

by Victoria Holt

  She turned so white I thought she was going to faint. She clutched at the banister and stared at me. I might have been a ghost.

  “Why,” she stammered. “It’s…er.”

  “Cordelia Grant. We met at Schaffenbrucken.”

  “Cordelia Grant.” She whispered my name. “Why…of course.”

  “I confess I am not so surprised as you are,” I said. “Miss Hetherington did tell me that someone named Elsa was coming and that she had worked at Schaffenbrucken. I thought of you, but didn’t really believe it possibly could be.”

  The color was returning to her face. She was smiling and looked more like the jolly girl I had known.

  “Well, fancy that. The age of miracles is not past. What are you doing here?”

  “Working,” I told her. “I’m teaching.”

  “Oh, but I thought…”

  “It all changed. When I left school I had to find a post. My aunt knew Miss Hetherington and I came here.”

  “Well, I never did!”

  She started to laugh. “They were good days at Schaffenbrucken,” she said.

  “Oh yes. You remember the girls…”

  “Your special friends. There was that French girl and the German girl and that Lydia…wasn’t that her name?”

  “Yes, I think Frieda and Monique will be leaving this year. Probably have left by now. I wrote to Lydia but I didn’t hear from her.”

  “Too busy with her affairs, I daresay.”

  “Well, she left Schaffenbrucken soon after I did, I gathered.”

  “Oh, did she now?”

  “But Elsa, where have you sprung from?”

  “I came to England. I left the term after you did. I got a job over here…that didn’t last so long and then I applied for this. What a life!”

  “Miss Hetherington is rather particular. You’ll have to do your work properly.”

  “Do you mean I didn’t at Schaffenbrucken?”

  “I only remember your doing a lot more talking than anyone else.”

  “Oh, this is like the old days. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.”

  “You looked as if you’d seen a ghost a moment ago.”

  “I was shaken all of a heap, as they say. It was such a surprise. Now I’m realizing what a nice one it is.”

  “Well, I shall be seeing you about, Elsa.”

  “I’m looking forward to getting to know the girls. It was you girls that I liked at Schaffenbrucken.”

  “Miss Hetherington won’t want you to be too friendly with them.”

  Elsa winked at me and went downstairs.

  ***

  Sir Jason sent a message over to the school to say that he had discovered some very interesting information which he thought would be very useful when compiling the commentaries for the pageant. If Miss Grant would care to come over he would be delighted to show them to her.

  Daisy called me to her study to tell me. She immediately noticed my embarrassment.

  She said: “I think you ought to go, but take Miss Barston with you. I do think he is trying to become too friendly and one has to be careful. I haven’t told you about Miss Lyons, have I? That was some years ago. She was a pretty dainty little thing. She taught dancing—that was before Mr. Bathurst’s time. Sir Jason noticed her. I don’t know what happened. He pursued her a bit and the poor child was most unworldly. She must have believed all he told her. She was very unhappy when she discovered the sort of relationship he was after. Of course his fancy for her was only passing. You and I know what such men are, but poor Hilda Lyons believed in beautiful romance. She became quite depressed and almost suicidal. I had to send her away—and in the middle of term! You are a different kettle of fish.” She smiled with rare humor. “Not that I am really comparing you with that useful object. It is just in the nature of the metaphor. I know you will take great care. He has a fancy for you but you are not in the least like poor Hilda…or that Martindale woman for that matter. He evidently likes variety and has all his lines in the river at once…if you know what I mean.”

  “I think I understand very well,” I said. “I think, too, that I know how to deal with Sir Jason.”

  “The rather annoying part of all this is that we have to, as they say, keep on the right side of him. If he became spiteful…imagine what he could do.”

  “In spite of his many failings I don’t think he would be that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, I was thinking of all the gossip in the town about him over his wife’s death and his association with Mrs. Martindale. He knows it and yet he is very lenient with those people. I suppose he could put the fear of God into them if he wanted to.”

  “H’m,” said Daisy. “Well, my dear, you can’t very well refuse to go and Miss Barston will be a good chaperone.”

  “I’ll go over this afternoon.”

  “That’s right. If you go about two you can be back at four. I believe you have a class at four thirty.”

  “Yes. The last of the day.”

  The matter was closed as far as Daisy was concerned. I must admit that I was not altogether displeased to be riding over to the Hall although every day it seemed I learned something more about him and it was mostly derogatory. Now the dainty pretty Hilda Lyons had put in an appearance.

  Mrs. Keel greeted us. No doubt she had her instructions.

  “I was to take you to the rooms which Sir Jason particularly wanted you to see. He will be with you in five or ten minutes.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Keel.”

  “He will be glad Miss Barston has come. He has something special to show her. It is in the library. I’ll take you there, Miss Barston, and then you can join Miss Grant when you have seen them.”

  “I shall be most interested to see whatever it is,” said Miss Barston.

  Mrs. Keel took us to the library where several old manuscripts were laid out on the table. Miss Barston was immediately absorbed.

  “I’ll just take Miss Grant up and come for you later, Miss Barston, when you’ve had time to look through those papers. There are some drawings there of costumes…last century, I think Sir Jason said. Miss Grant, will you come with me?”

  I followed her out of the library. We went along a corridor and came to a stone staircase.

  “I don’t know whether you have been to this part of the house before, Miss Grant.”

  I said I hadn’t.

  “This staircase leads to a set of apartments which we don’t use. They have a historical significance, Sir Jason says.”

  “How interesting.”

  Mrs. Keel opened a door. I was in a long low room with heavy beams across the ceiling. The windows were small but we were at the top of the house and it was fairly light.

  “It’s quite an apartment,” said Mrs. Keel. “A little separate from the rest of the house. I’ll bring Miss Barston up when she’s finished with the drawings.”

  She went out leaving me a little uneasy. Miss Barston had come as chaperone and I was already separated from her.

  What could he possibly want to show me up here?

  I walked round the place. It was like a sitting room with heavily carved chairs and a settle. I saw a communicating door. It led to a bedroom. In this was a four-poster bed, a court cupboard and some chairs. I was startled to see that the windows were barred. They made it look like a prison.

  I thought I should find my way down to Miss Barston and we would see what we had to see here together.

  I came out of the bedroom and there he was smiling at me.

  I said as calmly as I could: “Good afternoon. Mrs. Keel brought me up here.”

  “I know. I saw you coming with your companion, so I arranged for her to go to the library.”

  “What is it you want to show me in this place?”

  “Did you notice anything unusual about it?”

  “Only that the windows in there are barred.”

  “It was a sort of prison at one time. Come and sit down.” He led me to the settle and
we sat side by side. I was aware of him very close and it made a tension in the atmosphere. What a fool I had been to allow myself to be separated from Miss Barston. I had walked straight into the trap, aware all the time that it was being set for me. There was something about Mrs. Keel that was so conventional that she made everything appear so normal. She had done this once before.

  “Well, why have you brought me here?”

  “I knew you’d want to see it. You were so interested when I told you the story.”

  “What story was that?”

  “About our devilish ancestors. This is said to be the apartment where our satanic prisoner was kept when the wicked Verringer was trying to force him to marry his daughter. It’s called the Devil’s Den.”

  “Very interesting,” I said. “Is that all you wanted to show me?”

  “I have a great deal to show you.”

  “Then I am sure Miss Barston will be interested too. Shouldn’t she be brought up?”

  “You wouldn’t spoil her pleasure in those magnificent drawings. These rooms are used on certain occasions only. Would you like me to tell you about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “There is said to be a certain quality…an aura…about them. Perhaps you can sense it.”

  I looked round the room. What I was aware of was the isolation, and those bars across the window of the bedroom gave it a somewhat sinister atmosphere.

  “There is said to be an aphrodisiacal ambience in these rooms…something which was left by the Devil when he honored us.”

  I laughed to hide my uneasiness. I was embarrassed that he should talk to me in this manner and I guessed he was leading up to something which put me on my guard and yet at the same time excited me. There was something about him which was different from anyone else I had ever known and while it alarmed me it fascinated me.

  “The story goes back into the past,” he went on. “If childless couples slept here, it was said, they were sure of…fertility. Such an important person as the Devil couldn’t live somewhere for even a short space of time without leaving something behind, could he?”

  “Well, I suppose if you believe that sort of thing it is very interesting.”

  “You would believe, wouldn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “What about your stranger in the forest. You see, at some time we all have odd inexplicable experiences. Mrs. Keel always comes up here with the servants when they clean. She says the silly girls imagine things. One of them said she saw the Devil and he forced her to get into the bed with him. It turned out to be that she had been sporting with one of the stable boys and as he would have none of it, the Devil seemed a good substitute.”

  “You see, people fit these legends to suit themselves.”

  “My brother and I used to come up here sometimes. We stayed here one night…just to show we were not afraid. Then he wagered me that I wouldn’t sleep here alone.”

  “And of course you did and saw the Devil.”

  “Yes and no. I came, but His Satanic Majesty did not deign to put in an appearance on that night.”

  “I am sure Miss Barston would love to see it. Shall we go down to her?”

  “I have instructed Mrs. Keel regarding Miss Barston.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be anything much to see up here,” I said. “Apart from the legend it might be an ordinary apartment.”

  “There is so much I want you to see.”

  “Well, show me.”

  “It is a matter of understanding. You know how very much I am attracted by you.”

  “I have noticed that you are inclined to appear rather frequently.”

  “How else could I get you to realize what a fine fellow I am?”

  “You don’t have to appear so frequently to keep me informed of that. I am constantly hearing of you. As we have said before, you are the main topic of conversation in the neighborhood. But what I can only call your waylaying me and contriving meetings like this is rather embarrassing. You must really understand that I am not one of your Mrs. Martindales or Miss Lyons…”

  “Good heavens!” he said. “That goes back a long way.”

  “You can be sure it was duly noted when it occurred.”

  “Obviously, Hilda Lyons, a pretty little thing but no conversationalist.”

  “She was a schoolmistress, I believe. Understandably she lacked the glamour of someone like Mrs. Martindale.”

  “Not necessarily. Take Miss Grant for instance.”

  “It is her future which interests me most.”

  “And me,” he said, looking earnest suddenly.

  I stood up but he was beside me. He put an arm about me.

  “Please…don’t touch me.”

  He took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him.

  “You have a tremulous mouth,” he said. “It betrays you.” Then he kissed me. He frightened me. I felt he was going to crush my body. It was such a violent embrace.

  I fought him off.

  “You are insufferably—” I panted.

  “Which is rather nice, eh?”

  “Please do not use those tactics with me.”

  “I know you are not Mrs. Martindale nor yet Miss Lyons. You are far more attractive…far more passionate…far more desirable than either.”

  “Your past mistresses are of no interest to me.”

  “You do not always speak the truth, do you? I thought schoolmistresses were supposed to. I’ll tell you something. They are of the utmost interest to you.”

  “Do you always tell people what they must think, what they must do?”

  “Always.”

  “Not in this case.”

  “I realize I shall have to work hard on it.”

  “And bring no results. I am going down now. And please do not bring me here again on false pretenses. I shall not come. You may take what revenge you like. I am not coming when you beckon.”

  “Then I shall have to resort to pleading.”

  “Nothing will make me come here again.”

  “Don’t make rash vows, Cordelia, because you are the sort of woman who would hate to break them. Come and sit down. I promise I won’t kiss you, touch you, or do anything which could cause offense while we talk.”

  “Please say what you have to say and say it quickly.”

  “You are a very attractive girl. You have all the social graces. After all, didn’t you spend—how many years was it?—at that place in Switzerland? Perhaps it has done something. I don’t know. I suppose that firmness of character, that unswerving desire to do what is right, were there all the time. What they have done is turn you into a young lady who would grace any circles.”

  “Well?”

  “Even a place like this.”

  “Really!” I said with sarcasm.

  “I mean it.”

  “Then I am indeed flattered, and on that note I will take my departure.”

  “I have not finished yet and as you have learned at that magnificent place whose name for the moment escapes me, young ladies do not move away when their hosts are speaking to them. They stay and listen and appear to be animated; in fact they give the impression of paying attention even though their thoughts are far away. Is that correct?”

  “It is.”

  “Then follow the rules of the school. I might even marry you.”

  “Really, sir. Your condescension overwhelms me. But I should have to decline.”

  “Why?”

  “I should have thought that was obvious, and polite young ladies never talk of unpleasant matters.”

  “Look at this place. You would be in your element. After all what was the business of Schaffenbrucken if not to prepare you to take your place at the head of some rich man’s table?”

  “So you have remembered the name. I am so glad. That was indeed the purpose of Schaffenbrucken, but there are always the rogue pupils who are meant for another destiny.”

  “You mean schoolteaching?”

  “In some cases obviously yes.
”

  “Don’t be foolish, Cordelia. You are not going to teach silly girls all your life, are you? Are you going to be another Miss Hetherington?”

  “Miss Hetherington is a very great lady. If I were like her, I should think I had done rather well.”

  “Nonsense. You’re not a schoolmarm underneath. Don’t think I don’t know women.”

  “I think you know a great deal about them…physically. Mentally I imagine you know very little. Certainly you do not seem to know much about me.”

  “You’d be surprised. You are at the moment the virgin schoolmistress…prim, clinging to conventions, completely ignorant of the world. My dear Cordelia, beneath that schoolmistress is a passionate woman eager to escape…to life.”

  I laughed and he laughed with me, but he said with feigned reproach: “You find me amusing?”

  “Very. And I know your interest in me is directed to one goal.”

  “You are right.”

  “And that goal is seduction. Do you have formulae? This one for Marcia Martindale. This for Miss Lyons. Now here is Cordelia Grant. Which number for her?”

  “You are very cynical. Don’t you give me credit for any deep feelings?”

  “No.”

  “My dear girl, you do delight me, you know. Really, I would marry you.”

  “Aren’t you being rather rash. A penniless schoolmistress…”

  “I have no need of money.”

  “Nor have I. I am content with what I have. So you see it is no use your bringing me here and in your satanic manner showing me the riches which would be mine.”

  “Everyone likes riches.”

  “One can do much with money, yes. But in this case think of the price one would have to pay to be Lady Verringer, and grace your halls. You!”

  “You are unconvincing. You are trembling with excitement at the prospect.”

  “That’s not excitement,” I retorted. “It’s rage.”

  I rose but he gripped my arm firmly and forced me to sit down.

  “You know my problem. I need an heir. A son…”

  “I have heard that mentioned too.”

  “I want a son. I would marry you if you would give me a son.”

  I stared at him incredulously and then I said: “Oh…I understand now. You want proof before you commit yourself. How wise! Other people marry and hope for children, but that is not the way of the Verringers. Am I right?” I burst out laughing. “I can’t help it,” I went on. “I just pictured your chosen women…kept at Rooks’ Rest until they showed what they could do. Like a harem or a Restoration play perhaps. Imagine it.”