Capturing Sir Dunnicliffe (The Star Elite Series) (27 page)

It seemed incredible that the old woman was the person who had been trying to murder her. Surely, she wasn’t strong enough to try to strangle her, and it was equally incredible that she was driving the carriage that had nearly run her over. So what was going on?

“You are your mother’s daughter,” Mrs Partridge spat, her voice laced with venom. “We hate witches in this village. There is no place for your kind here.”

“My kind?” Harriett gasped, feeling her stomach drop. There was a slight tingling in her mouth, and sweat had
broken out on her brow. She didn’t think she had eaten any, but whatever Mrs Partridge had put into the buns was strong enough to have an immediate effect on her. Luckily, she hadn’t swallowed any of the substance, and the effects she was experiencing were mild compared to her previous experience with the poisoned pie, but it was enough to warn her not to eat any more.

“
Your trickery and whorishness is shameful. You bring the village and all of us into disrepute with your wanton ways. Your mother was just the same; threw herself at that Simon de Mattingley, who didn’t have the strength to deny her. He was never the same after that, and destroyed poor Estelle’s heart, he did. We were all glad to see the back of Helena when she died. My mama said we had to get rid of you, but you wouldn’t go.”

“Nobody told me that you wanted me to go,” Harriett reasoned.

“Because they are all frightened of you and your hexes and potions.” Mrs Partridge seemed to have turned into a different person. Harriett could almost see the physical changes in her face, which had grown florid as it sharpened. It was the dribble of spittle coming from the side of her mouth, and the wildness in her eyes, that really frightened Harriett, who began to wonder how she was going to get out of the house without being stabbed by the wicked looking knitting needles now clenched in Mrs Partridge’s fist.

“I don’t do hexes,” Harriett protested
.

“You are a witch. You have no place tainting the people in the village,” Mrs Partridge argued.

“So you tried to poison me with the apple pie.”

“Phah! It was easy. Dropped a bit in the top and you were too stupid to know, but didn’t put enough in it obviously.” Her eyes were almost feral as they stared maliciously across the table.

Outwardly, Harriett tried to remain calm and relaxed. Inwardly she was trying desperately to think of a way to get out of the cottage so she could shriek for help, and hope that one of the Star Elite was around too hear her.

“So it was you who strangled me,” it wasn’t a question.

“I nearly succeeded – if it wasn’t for that lecherous beast of yours who turned up when he did.”

Harriett felt her stomach churn at the realisation that evil had visited her not once, but twice.

“Hugo isn’t a lecherous beast.” For the life of her, Harriett had no idea why she felt the need to make that last comment, but it helped to distract Mrs Partridge who, for the time being, was willing to furnish Harriett with all of the facts.

“He is no better than your father. They sleep with witches, and you are a hoyden. No better than your mother. You don’t deserve to live in a village like Padstow; tainting everyone with your evil potions.”

“The buns yesterday-” Harriett paused and waited.

“Weren’t poisoned. I know that man of yours
is suspicious of everyone. But he isn’t here now, so there is nothing stopping you eating that.” She nodded once toward the bun she pushed across the table at Harriett.

“No, I am not,” Harriett declared flatly, shoving the bun back across the table.

She realised she had made a huge mistake when Mrs Partridge let out a hideous wail and launched herself across the table at her.

Immediately
jumping out of her chair, her ears burning with the curses the older woman was shouting, she lifted a chair and threw it in the path of the older woman as she lurched around the table at her, needles pointed dangerously at Harriett’s face.

If she could get outside, s
he could make a run for freedom while screaming for whoever was supposed to be on watch to come and help. She could only hope that one of the Star Elite were on watch as they were supposed to be.

“I didn’t want your bloody potions
, but you insisted on feeding the vile stuff down my throat anyway.” Mrs Partridge ranted. “Do you know what it is like to be forced to take something you don’t want? Something that tastes vile and that you know is going to kill you?” Her voice rose as she spoke until she was bellowing.

“They are only herbs,” Harriett gasped, pushing another chair in the older woman’s path, carefully backing toward the door.

“You won’t get out of there; I’ve locked it.” Mrs Partridge’s voice was cruel and matter-of-fact.

Harriett daren’t move her eyes from the bulk of the woman before her, because she knew that the woman was waiting for the opportunity to lunge at her with the wicked looking needles. She could outrun an old woman, but she couldn’t do it skewere
d.

For each step she took backward, the older woman took another step forward in a macabre dance around the large kitchen table. Ha
rriett tried to move toward the door, only for Mrs Partridge to shove the table roughly forward, blocking her exit. While the other woman was still leaning over the table, Harriett took the opportunity to run into the hallway, slamming the hall door behind her before heading into her bedroom. She briefly considered going into her workroom but there was little in there she could use to block the door. At least in her bedroom, there was the bed.

Slamming the door to her room she wedged a chair against it before sliding her bed across the door. Mrs Partridge was
screaming and was trying to shove the door open, despite the physical barrier, only to be pushed backward when Harriett wedged the heavy weight of the iron bed against her. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud. Although it prevented Mrs Partridge from entering, it did little to dull the profanities being screeched at her through the thick wood.

She was trembling by the time she lifted the latch on the window and climbed out. Heaving a huge sigh of relief, she was considering whether to run down into the village or head for the woods and go straight to the Manor, when the slamming of the front door
made her jump.

It was enough to spur Harriett into flight and
, without thinking, she headed toward the Manor in the hope that at least one of the Star Elite was on watch in the woods and would come to her aid.

She hadn’t counted
on Mrs Partridge being so quick-thinking to come through the hedge directly into her path, leaving Harriett no choice but to veer toward the cliff path at the front of her house.

It was rarely used by the villagers as it was steep and narrow, winding dangerously down the steep, rugged cliffs toward the small cove. The tides turned swiftly in the cove, and more than once people had been caught out and left stranded to be swallowed by the voracious sea. It was enough for the villagers to use the smaller, friendlier paths leading to the beaches on the other side of the village
.

Until now, their reluctance to use the dangerous slopes had suited Harriett. It had afforded her the ability to venture down to the cove when the tide was out, and search for seaweed and shells undisturbed by curious locals. Now though, she wished there was at least one villager around who could help her. She wondered where the Star Elite watch was. Hadn’t they seen her leave the cottage?

Lifting her skirts, she ran for her life, her breath sawing in and out. She needed to lengthen her stride and put some distance between her and Mrs Partridge.

S
he could still hear the woman’s heavy footsteps behind her, along with the wild mutterings and curses she was throwing at Harriet’s back as they ran. Harriett studied the split in the path ahead of them and had two choices. She could either run further along the cliff path, to the farm around the coast in the hope that someone would be at home to help her, or she could take the downward path onto the shale beach. The uneven surface might be enough to slow Mrs Partridge down. Harriett could use the beach to try to skirt around the other woman. She was sure she could run up the hill far quicker than the older woman, whom she could hear panting heavily behind her.

In the e
nd, she didn’t get that far. At the very top of the path, she saw someone running toward her, and gasped at the sight of Rupert, gun drawn and pointing toward the woman.

“Stop right there!” h
e shouted, slowing his pace as he approached them.

Harriett
started to run toward him, only to be drawn to an abrupt halt by a fierce grip on her upper arm. She cried aloud as the sharp point of a knitting needle dug cruelly into her side. 

“Let her go,” Rupert demanded
as he neared them. His gun was pointed at the old woman. Mrs Partridge tried to hide behind Harriett, only for Rupert to move to the side to maintain his clear shot.

“What are you goi
ng to do?” Mrs Partridge gasped. “Shoot an old lady?”

“She’s the one who tried to poison me,” Harriett gasped.
“I think she was the one who tried to run me over too.”

“That wasn’t me, you stupid bitch,” Mrs Partridge spat. “Although I wish it was. You see what I mean? Nobody wants you here; we all hate you!”

“No they don’t,” Rupert argued.

“Shut up!” Mrs Partridge spat, jabbing the needles further into her side. Harriett shifted infinitesimally to one side to ease the discomfort. Her eyes met and held Rupert’s for a moment. She almost thought he was trying to tell her something and realised that if she had any chance of walking away from this, she had to play her part in giving him clear access to the old woman behind her.

“Let her go this instant,” Rupert tone was as dark and contemptuous as his glare. There was something sinister in his stare that even Mrs Partridge couldn’t ignore.

“She’s a witch.
We all want the witch to die.” The older woman’s voice was reasonable, clearly expecting him to agree.

“You are the only one evil enough to want that,” Rupert spat, his eyes
locked on the woman. Her face warned him that she had lost control of her sanity and was not only reckless, but unpredictable.

“I’m not evil. My mama was right in saying that the villagers should have driven her witch of a mother out when she put a spell on that poor de Mattingley. He didn’t stand a chance. Ruined his marriage, she did
, and this one isn’t any better. Cut from the same cloth, she is, whoring herself for that other man.” Her voice screeched, dipped and trembled with maniacal fury.

Harriett gasped. Over Rupert’s shoulder she caught sight of Hugo running toward them. Her gaze locked on him as relief swept through her. Her attention snapped back to Rupert at his next words.

“Let her go,” Rupert warned. “I’m not going to keep asking you. It’s your final chance; let her go or I shoot you.”

“I’ll kill her first.”

“Move!” Rupert shouted.

His sudden outburst made Harriett jerk and she didn’t have
a chance to think before the loud retort from Rupert’s gun blasted past her ears. She lunged to the side, landing on the ground with a thud.

She immediately rolled over and watched in horror as the woman looked down at the growing red stain on her arm. Rupert moved to Harriett’s side and squatted down
, placing one hand on her shoulder, silently asking her to keep down. They both watched as Mrs Partridge teetered and staggered backward. Her arms windmilled as she teetered on the very edge of the cliff. Wide eyes met Harriett’s for one brief moment as Mrs Partridge’s feet began to slide on the loose rocks. Immediately she dropped to her knees but was unable to stop herself sliding over the edge.

Clawing hands grasped uselessly at the grass in front of her
, but she could do little to stop her own weight dragging her down to her death. Spiteful eyes locked onto Harriett who found her ankles gripped cruelly in a relentless hold that dragged her toward the precipice.

Harriett cried out and
began to claw the ground. She reached desperate hands out to Rupert, who immediately grasped her arms. Digging his heels into the ground, he used his body weight to stop Harriett’s slide, unfortunately trapping her in a strange tug-of-war.

H
ugo didn’t think he would ever forget the sight of Harriett being dragged toward the jagged cliff edge, and certain death.

Harriett could hear the loud crashing of the surf against the rocks far below and began to pray. The pain in her legs was unbearable, and she fough
t the urge to insist the men let go so she could relieve the ache. The old woman spat epithets as she clawed at Harriet’s legs in an effort to save herself from her watery fate.

Hugo wanted to help hold Harriett, but knew that both men on her arms, and Mrs Partridge on her legs was putting untold strain on Harriett. She could die from the pressure they were putting her body under. Instead he moved beside Rupert, clasping Harriett’s arms and replacing Rupert’s hold. Gritting his teeth, he dug his heels in and tried to ignore the desperate pleading in Harriett’s tearful gaze as she stared at him.