” And then, madam.”
I looked at the clock over the fireplace and saw that it was seven o’clock.
” You will be missed, if you stay here much longer. I will go back to bed. You will bring my breakfast in the ordinary way. I shall want very little to eat. Bring my hot water earlier. I want to think what I ought to do next.”
” Yes, madam,” she said.
And she left me.
Ruth came to my room to see how I was.
” You look exhausted,” she said. ” Yesterday was too much for you.”
” I do feel tired,” I admitted.
” I should stay in your room all day. I’ll keep them away. Then perhaps you’ll feel well enough to join us this evening There will only be the family; and Simon and Hagar will be leaving early to-morrow morning. The carriage always comes for them sharp at nine-thirty on the day after Boxing Day.”
” Yes. I should like to rest awhile,” I said.
All that day I lay on my bed and thought about the events 231 which had led up to my discovery of the robe. I went over everything, beginning with my meeting with Gabriel and Friday. Gabriel knew there had been an attempt on his life in the ruins, and he was afraid. He had hoped that I would be able to help him—at least there would be two of us to fight whatever threatened him. Then there was the night before he died, when Friday had heard someone in the corridor. It would have been that night when Gabriel met his death, but for Friday.
Friday had obviously been killed so that he could not again give the warning. Sarah knew this and had conveyed it on her tapestry. How much more did she know? So Gabriel had died and I had been of little interest to the murderer until it was disclosed that I was to have a child. The idea to make me seem mad must have come when Dr. Smith thought it his duty to tell the family that there was a Catherine Corder in Worstwhistle.
What a diabolical mind was behind that plot! I did not believe the idea was to send me to Worstwhistle, but to build up a case of insanity against me and then possibly stage my suicide before the child was born.
Why was I thinking of the plot in the past tense? It still existed.
And when my would-be murderer discovered that his robe was missing, what would he do? Perhaps he would think there was need for prompt action.
I was undecided. Perhaps I should go back to Glen House. But how could I do this in secret? If I announced my intention I could expect immediate action. I was certain that I should not be allowed to leave this house.
I thought of them . Luke and Simon. I tried not to think of Simon.
It was Luke, I told myself. It must be Luke. And Damaris was helping them.
Damaris! But had I not learned something last night of the relationship between Damaris and Simoni My thoughts went round and round like a mouse in a cage. I had the robe; I should have been triumphant if I could have shared my knowledge with Simon.
But what could I ever share with Simon now?
I was wishing again, as I had wished when I let the water from the Knaresborough Well trickle on my hands: ” Not Simon. Oh, please, not Simon!”
I joined the family at dinner. Simon was attentive and appeared anxious on my behalf and, although I had told myself that I would give no sign of my changed feelings 232 towards him, I could not help a coolness creeping into my manner.
He was next to me at dinner, which we took in the hall as we had on the previous night.
” I am disappointed,” he told me, ” that I’ve had no opportunity of being with you to-day. I had planned that we should take a drive together … you, my grandmother and myself.”
“Would not the weather have been too cold for her?”
” Perhaps, but she would not admit it. She, too, was disappointed.”
” You should have made up a party with the others.”
” You know that would not have been the same thing at all.”
” Perhaps Damans would have accompanied you.”
He laughed, and lowered his voice. ” I have something to tell you about that.”
I looked at him interrogatively.
” Because,” he added, ” you obviously noticed. It is often necessary to go by devious ways to reach a certain goal.”
” You are talking in riddles.”
“Which is not inappropriate. We have a riddle to solve.”
I tamed away because I fancied Luke was trying to listen to our conversation; but fortunately Aunt Sarah was talking loudly about Christmases of the past, and although she was repeating what she had said yesterday she seemed determined that no one should miss a word.
After dinner we retired to the first-floor drawing-room, and there were no other visitors that night. I talked to Sir Matthew and would not leave his side, although I could see that Simon was growing exasperated with me.
I left the company early and had not been in my room more than five minutes when there was a knock on the door.
” Come in,” I called, and Sarah entered.
She smiled at me conspiratorially and whispered as though to excuse the intrusion: “Well, you were interested. That’s why …”
” What do you mean?” I asked.
” I’ve started to fill it in.”
My thoughts immediately went to the half-finished piece of tapestry which she had showed me when I was last in her room. She was watching me and her face seemed suddenly full of knowledge.
” Can I see it?” y^ ” Of course. That’s why 1 came. Will you come back with me?”
I rose eagerly and when we were in the corridor she put her fingers to her lips. ” Don’t want anyone to hear us,” she said.
“They’re still in the first-floor drawing-room. It’s early yet … for a Boxing night.
All very well for you to retire early. That’s on account of your condition. But the others . “
We mounted the stairs and went through to her wing. It was very silent in this part of the house and I shivered whether with cold or apprehension, I was not sure.
She led the way to her tapestry room, and she was now as excited as a child with a new toy which she wants to show off. She lighted several candles from the one she was carrying; then, setting that one down, she ran to the cupboard. She took out the canvas and held it in front of her as she had on another occasion. I could not see very clearly although it was obvious that the blank side had now been filled in with some thing. I picked up a candle and held it close to the canvas. Then I saw the outline of a drawing.
I looked closer. On one side were the dead bodies of Gabriel and Friday, and on the other a faint pencil drawing This was of another building, and the effect was that of looking through barred windows into a room which was like a prison cell. In that cell was the vague outline of a woman who held something in her arms. I felt a thrill of horror as I realised this was meant to be a baby.
I looked into Sarah’s face. Illumined as it was by the lighl of the candles, all shadows and lines seemed to be eliminated ; she was rejuvenated more than that; she seemed not quite human. I longed to know what secrets, what motives lay behind those calm eyes which could at times seem so simple, at others so wise.
” I suppose that figure is myself?” I said.
She nodded. ” You saw the baby, did you? You see, the baby is born.”
” But we seem to be in a sort of prison.”
” I think it would feel like being in prison.”
” Aunt Sarah, what would feel like being in prison?”
” There,” she said. ” That place.”
I understood. ” That’s all cleared up,” I explained. ” II was all a mistake. The doctor made a mistake. There is no need to think of that any more.”
” But it’s here.” she insisted. ” It’s here in the picture.” 234 “
That’s because you don’t know all that’s happened.”
She shook her head almost petulantly, and my apprehension increased. I knew she moved quietly about the house. listening from secret places; and then quietly in this room she recorded the family’s history. The history of the Rockwells was the most important thing in her life.
That was why she spent hours over her exquisite tapestry. Here in this room she was supreme, a sort of goddess looking on at the follies of her creatures; elsewhere she was of no account—merely poor Sarah, who was a little simple.
I was foolish to allow myself to be upset by the vague ideas which circulated in her wandering mind.
” In a prison,” she murmured, ” there has to be a jail or I can see him. He’s all in black, but he has his back to me and his hood makes it impossible to recognise him.”
“The monki” I spoke lightly for I could think of that creature without fear now.
She came up to me and looked into my face. ” The monk is very near you, Catherine,” she said. ” The monk is waiting for you, waiting to catch you. You should not think the monk is not near … and coming nearer.”
” You know who it is!” I accused her.
” It’s a lovely night,” she answered. ” The stars are wonderful.
There is frost in the air, and, Catherine, the view is beautiful from the balcony.”
I drew away from her.
” You’re right,” I said. ” It is cold here. I think I should go back to my room.”
“Wait awhile, Catherine.”
” I think I should go.”
I went to the door but she had caught my robe and was clinging to it.
I had begun to shiver again, but this time not with cold.
“The candle,” she said.
“You’ll need one. Take mine.”
Still holding my robe, she drew me into the room. She picked up one of the lighted candles and thrust it into my hand. I grasped it and, disengaging myself, hurried along the corridor, ‘half expecting her to pursue me.
I was breathless when I reached the sanctuary of my room and my apprehension remained with me. I could not dismiss Sarah’s ramblings from my mind because I was certain that there was some meaning hidden within them.
How uncertain I was on that night 1 I longed to confide in someone.
When I was with Simon I could not help but 23’? trust him and I doubted my ability to resist him; I believed that if I told him what I had discovered and he gave me a plausible explanation, I should be only too glad to meet him half-way. Readily would I believe any story he could tell me if only it would exonerate him from the murder of Gabriel and from the attempted murder of me and my child.
I believed that night that I dared not listen to Simon. I had to remain aloof. For the first time I could not trust my own good sense.
I was at the mercy of my feelings for this man. It was humiliating, and yet in a way it was exhiliarating, because love must always be like that. And I learned that night, if I had not known it before, that I was in love with Simon.
The next day Simon and Hagar left Kirkland Revels. I said good-bye warmly to Hagar, coolly to Simon. He was aware of my changed attitude and it seemed to amuse him. I thought: Can he really be as cynical as that?
When they had left I went to my room. I wanted to be quiet and formulate some plan. I knew that I must act quickly, because it might be that already the robe had been missed.
The only person in whom I could confide was Mary Jane and what could she do to help me? Still, at such a time it was a comfort to confide in anybody. I thought of going to Sir Matthew, showing him what I had discovered, and asking him to make up a party to explore the passage between the house and the Abbey. Ruth? Could I tell Ruth? I was not sure of Ruth and it would not have surprised me to learn that she—although not the prime mover in the plot against me-was not unaware of what was going on. Sarah? What sense could one hope to get from Sarah? And Luke . I still clung to my belief that Luke was my real enemy.
I could not make up my mind.
I was in my room trying to come to some decision when I noticed an envelope lying on the floor by the door. I hurried to it and picked it up. There was nothing written on it. I opened my door, hoping to find someone hurrying away, but there was no one there; the letter might have been quietly pushed under my door some minutes before I had noticed it.
I shut my door and slit the envelope. There was a single sheet of paper inside; and on it was written in a shaky handwriting :
” Go back to your old horn without delay. You are in imminent danger.”
I stared at it. I did not know the handwriting and I wondered whether the shakiness was a method of disguising it, for the letter was unsigned and there was no address on the paper.
Who had pushed the letter under my door? And what did it mean? Was it yet another trick?
But there was something tangible about a piece of paper. No one could say I had imagined this.
I went to the window and looked out. Then my heart began to hammer wildly because I saw someone hurrying away from the house and I recognised her Damaris!
I suspected Damans of working against me. How could I do otherwise when she had been with me and had seen the monk, and then had declared she had not?
I looked back at the paper. I would not let myself believe that she was working with Simon in this. And yet the position was desperate. I must look at the facts; I must face the truth. I had seen them together on Christmas night, and what had been implied by their words shocked me deeply. But I couldn’t believe this of Simon. My common sense might try to insist that I did, but my ridiculous feminine emotions refused to be convinced.