Beguiled (2 page)

“What position was that?”

When Clara did not answer right away, Laura
Mayhew stretched her thin arm across the settee and took Clara’s cold hand in
hers. “Forgive my questioning you so closely. I’ve been lonely here before you
arrived and I do so enjoy discussing the minutia of life outside these walls. A
story such as yours is profoundly interesting. But I will not be offended if
you would rather not reply.”

“I shall tell you. I must tell someone.” Clara
felt her face grow hot. “M-m-my cousin is not a gentleman. We were betrothed; I
arrived at his estate for the wedding but he announced there would be no
wedding. He made me an offer of
another
kind instead.”

“Oh dear.
Oh, I see. That is terrible.
Terribly wicked.
He sounds a dreadful villain.” Miss Mayhew’s eyes were shrewd but not unkind. “Is
your cousin attractive by any chance?”

“Exceedingly so.”

“What happened?”

“I fell in love with him, I think,” Clara
said with dismay.

Laura Mayhew covered her mouth to muffle her
laughter.
“As we will do with handsome cousins who make us
villainous offers.”
Her eyes danced merrily. “My dear Louise was equally
smitten with her gentleman who was
not
a gentleman. Can I assume you were persuaded to accept his offer by his
significant physical charms?”

Clara could not help but smile, though she
was embarrassed. “I was ...
utterly
persuaded. But the romance was doomed from the start. What I experienced at the
chapel—the encounter with the supernatural—his dead wife stands between us. She
will not let him go, even in death.”

“Miss Hamilton, I am not convinced she
is
dead. A malevolent spirit would not
manifest in a physical attack. They are more likely to hurl objects or frighten
their victim to death. What proof did your cousin offer that his wife was dead?”

This was a novel idea. Clara raised her
head. “Her death must be written in the parish records. I did not think to ask
for proof. Why would he lie about such a thing?”

“To secure your betrothal,
of course.
It was the only way he could get you
alone to seduce you. Though I can’t think why he confessed to having a wife at
all. He must have hoped to gain something from it.”

“He did. I came to doubt my sanity. Perhaps
that was his intention all along.” Clara eyed her companion. “You seem to know
a great deal about the supernatural. Are you a spiritualist as well as a member
of the Royal Household?”

Laura’s smile was troubled. “I possess the
gift of second sight but it is not a gift I would wish upon anyone. I’m glad
when I can put it to good use.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I’ll
wager there is no record of Mrs. Reilly’s death because Mrs. Reilly is
not dead
. Your cousin could not marry
you, Miss Hamilton because he is
already
married.”

Clara tried to refute the theory but the
words would not come. A sick cold fear balled in her stomach. For all that
Branson had done to her—Clara had no illusions about the condition of his heart
or his character—she loved him still. She loved him to the centre of his being.

If the mad woman in the chapel wasn’t the ghost
of Branson’s dead wife, then he was still married and there was no hope of
happiness for her.

None at all.

London, the same day.

EDGAR WAS heartened to see Branson’s
solicitor, Mr. Schofield and the Director of Hamilton Trading Partners, Mr.
Blakely, chatting amiably in the Gentlemen’s Club when he arrived. The meeting
had been arranged rather hurriedly before Branson left for Somerset. Both men
rose and shook hands upon greeting Edgar and with the pleasantries out of the
way, he launched into his pitch.

Stick to business
matters only.
Edgar was reminded of Branson’s instruction. Men of business
will not concern themselves with Clara’s incarceration or Arthur’s sordid
history. They only want to know if there is profit to be made if they take
Branson’s offer.

When he finished speaking, Edgar thought it would be smooth
sailing from there on. It was an attractive proposition. Mr. Blakely had
another view.

“What your cousin has proposed is out of the question, sir,”
he said solemnly.
“Quite impossible.
Arthur Hamilton
has agreed to accept a loan from Captain Strachan. The transaction is well in
hand. I am to meet with the gentleman in a few hours time to accept the funds.”

Schofield spoke up. “Is it
acceptable
that Arthur Hamilton has embezzled funds from the
company and
nothing
is to be done
about it? Captain Strachan is an outsider to the family. How can investors
trust this man to vote in the best interest of the company? Mr. Blakely, you
must agree that the shareholders would benefit from Branson Hamilton’s
investment immensely in the long term.
And not just to put
the books right, but to restore good faith.”

“Good faith is it? Arthur Hamilton is also my friend. He has
informed me that Branson Hamilton’s only interest in this affair is to have his
uncle arrested! The ensuing scandal would destroy the value of the stock and
the company would collapse.”

“Yes, that was my cousin’s original intention,” Edgar cut in
quickly. “He had reason for his bitterness, the details of which I will not go
into—but his mind has changed in the past few weeks. My cousin is very fond of
my sister. Under her influence, he has come around to seeing the value of
preserving the company and our family name. The offer he makes is a
satisfactory one and will be in the best interest of the company.”

“What is this offer?” asked Blakely.

Edgar linked his hands over his chest, leaned back in his
chair and smiled.

“Mr. Branson Hamilton will restore the funds
borrowed
by my father. I have chosen the
term deliberately, gentlemen. There has been no criminal activity or willful
harm intended. My father made a mistake for which he is deeply regretful. In additional
to his financial backing, Branson has given me his full proxy. His voting
shares will be held by me to ensure the company is protected. Although I will
be acting as my cousin’s representative, my first priority will be Hamilton
Trading. Can you assure me that Captain Strachan will do the same?”

“He has agreed to all of this—Mr.
Branson
Hamilton?” Blakely gazed in astonishment at Mr. Schofield. “It
was my understanding there was no love lost between Arthur and his nephew. He’s
a clever man of business is Branson.” Blakely stroked his mustache
thoughtfully. “He would not make such an offer if there was not a great deal of
profit in it for his own interests.”

“I daresay you are correct, Mr. Blakely,” grunted Schofield.
“If my client regards Hamilton Trading as a desirable investment, I can assure
you the shareholders stand to make a great deal of money out of his interest in
the company.”

Nevertheless, Blakely appeared unwilling to be persuaded. “What
is the catch?”

Edgar had anticipated this. Branson warned him that men of
business always demand to know the conditions attached to any extraordinary
offer. This business of running a business had proven to be quite educational. He
crossed one leg over the other.

“The
catch
,
gentleman,” he said smoothly, “is that Arthur Hamilton is removed from the
Board of Directors and barred from participating in Hamilton Trading
operations. That is the condition of our offer. Do you accept?”

§

Windemere
, Somerset County

WINDEMERE PARISH Church was a homely stone
building, ancient and stalwart against the autumn sky. Its bell tower frowned
upon Branson, casting a shadow, as if it knew the business he was about was filled
with deceit. Vicar
Wimbley
was in the vestry. The look
he gave Branson when he entered was one of astonishment. The master of
Windemere
Hall was not a regular church-goer.

“Good afternoon, sir. I thought you were in London. What
brings you to our humble parish?”

There was no time for pleasantries. Branson got to the
point. “Vicar
Wimbley
, I need the parish records for
a brief length of time. I’ll return it to you tomorrow.”

“Well, I am usually delighted to be of service, but in this
instance, what you ask is impossible. The book cannot leave the premises, Master
Hamilton.”

Branson bit back an expletive. “If one were to make a
substantial donation to the church, could it leave the premises then?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am willing to pay for the privilege.” Branson reached for
his billfold. “It is a matter of life and death.”

“Sir, I do not comprehend your meaning,” the vicar
protested. “Please sit down and explain. Perhaps I can help you with your
problem. Whose life is at stake and how can our poor parish records help?”

Branson ground his teeth. His response was clipped and
bordered on rude. “Clara Hamilton has been wrongly committed to
Gateshead
Insane Asylum by her father. I need the records
to get her out. My aim is to prove that I am her husband and have the lawful
right to take her home.”

§

Gateshead Asylum, that same day.

“TELL ME about the vision, Clara.”

Clara Hamilton turned to Doctor Rutledge and blinked, momentarily
confused. She had become accustomed to white walls and the smell of
disinfectant; the doctor’s
panelled
office, furnished
with books and upholstered sofas had made her forget where she was for a brief
spell. Clara had been admiring the view from the doctor’s office when he
recalled her to the present.

“For moment, I thought I was in my father’s study back home.
You have such lovely things.” Her fingers grazed a porcelain vase and she saw
the doctor flinch. “Do not be alarmed. I have no desire to break anything. Your
ornaments are quite safe.”

“Please sit down, Clara. With regard to the vase you smashed
in your father’s study, I want to discuss the accusation you
levelled
against him at that time. According to the
analysis performed by Dr. Hargreaves, this delusion is a manifestation of a
vision you had in adolescence. I should like to discuss it in depth. You would
like too that wouldn’t you? Sit down, please.”

Dr. Rutledge was sitting in a leather chair behind his desk.
Clara imagined she was supposed to be reassured by his bland
demeanour
but she was not. Behind his paternal gaze was a
stranger analyzing every tick and shudder in her speech and every stumble in
logic. His first question was a trap. Denying the story was not possible, but
neither was revealing the full scope of her encounter with Grace Leeds.

“I have no objection, Doctor.” Clara sat down in a chair
opposite the desk and tried to appear sensible. “I was twelve years old,” she
began. “We were visiting
Windemere
Hall, the manor
home of my uncle, Leonard Hamilton. I went to the lake to take a swim. It was
there I saw a red dress floating on top of the water. The image had a strong
effect on me. I suppose I was quite disturbed by it.”

“What made you think it was a hallucination?”

“I didn’t at first. I thought someone had drowned.”

“Who did you believe had drowned, Clara?”

“A young lady who was visiting us from
Oxford.
Miss Grace Leeds. She had worn a red silk afternoon dress that
weekend.”

Clara caught the ends of her long hair and began twisting it
round her fingers. Matron had combed out her locks and tidied it off her face
and she was given a plain brown dress to make her presentable for the
appointment. Still, Clara felt she looked a fright, leaving her at a
disadvantage against the immaculately groomed Dr. Rutledge.

“You thought Miss Leeds had drowned and yet you did not go
for help.”

“No.” She recalled how she did not fetch help even as the
girl was being raped inside the summer house but knew better than to say so. “I
saw straight away that it was only a dress floating on the surface. There was
no body in the dress.”

“You became curious and ventured over to the summer house.”

“I can’t remember. I suppose I must have done.”

“That is not what you told your father. Your accusation was
very specific. You claimed you saw him inside the summer house attacking a
young woman by the name of Grace Leeds. You asserted that he had tossed her
dress into the lake to prevent her escape. It gave your father great pain to
relate this to me but he did so in the interest of seeing you well. Do you now
deny
making this statement?”

Clara bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. The anxiety was
returning despite her best efforts. If she told the truth, Arthur Hamilton
would confine her to
Gateshead
indefinitely. But a
lie was out of the question.

“I had a vision I came to believe really happened. Everything
I accused my father of was real to me at the time. He confirmed it himself. I
saw what I saw but I misinterpreted the scene. I was only twelve. I didn’t know
how men and women were with each other.”

“Are you referring to sexual intercourse?”

“Yes.” Clara felt her face go hot. “Arthur told me the act
was consensual. Grace was not in any danger. The misapprehension was all in my
mind.”

“Do you believe your father’s version of events, Clara?”

She lifted her eyes to the doctor and remembered Laura
Mayhew’s admonition.
Tell them whatever
they want to hear to get out of this place
. “Yes, yes, I do. I only wish he
had been honest with me years ago; I might have been spared a good deal of
anguish.”

Doctor Rutledge nodded, somberly stroking his beard. “There
is the source of your trouble. Your father’s private affairs were not your
concern. What you witnessed, disagreeable though it may be to a young girl, was
none of your business. He did not owe you an explanation—on the contrary—you
owed him your loyalty and devotion. A father has natural rights and authority
over his daughter until that authority is transferred to a husband. If you
cannot accept the natural order of woman’s place in the world, you will
continue to suffer, Clara.”

Clara nodded in quick agreement. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m
glad to have it explained to me so clearly. Thank you, Dr. Rutledge. When may I
be released now? I am quite myself again. I apologize for any upset I may have
caused during my illness. But as I am quite well again, I am eager to return
home.”

Rutledge frowned, leaned forward and placed his folded hands
on the desk. “We are a long way from recovery, I’m afraid. Your delusion is a
serious one; psycho-sexual in nature. I concur with Dr. Hargreaves’s initial
assessment but we must probe deeper to bring about a full recovery.”

Clara’s heart sank as Dr. Rutledge sat back in his chair and
he linked his fingers together. “I assure you what I saw was
not
a delusion. My father has confirmed
as much. Arthur claims the act was performed with Miss Leeds’s consent and I am
satisfied with his explanation. There is nothing more to be said from my
perspective.”

“I must disagree. What led you to view the act of sexual
intercourse between the girl and your father as violent?”

Clara hopped to her feet and paced the office. “Must I
relive that day? I have suffered enough these past seven years protecting my
father, but it seems he will not be satisfied until I say that Grace Leeds was
not raped after all. He is trying to bully me into saying she was clearly
enjoying herself when the scene I witnessed gave evidence to the contrary! No,
no, sir. You have made your position clear. You do not mean to recommend my
release. How much is my father paying you to hold me here? Never mind—do not
trouble yourself to deny it. You will not release me until I betray my
conscience, my heart, mind and soul and align myself to a lie!”

The doctor was unmoved. “This outburst has demonstrated the
severity of your psychological break with reality. It is my considered opinion
it will take many hours of therapeutic treatment to restore you to your right
mind.”

“Treatment?”
Clara froze at the
word. Alarm prickled the back of her neck. “What sort of treatment?”

“We shall begin with an ice bath to slow the brain and
central nervous system. This will break the cycle of reinforcement the
psychosis is feeding upon. If you continue to manifest unhealthy psycho-sexual tendencies,
then I shall seek permission from your father to perform a new procedure on
your brain, in which we relieve the pressure by drilling a hole into your
skull. This form of surgery is in its infancy but great success had been
reported.”

Clara moved swiftly to the door only to find it locked.
She realized with cold horror that she could be
committed to this institution for the rest of her life if her father desired
it, and more and more it was becoming clear that Arthur would do just that to
keep her quiet. With great effort, Clara turned and eyed the doctor coldly.