The Countess (16 page)

I asked her about her family and was told that she was one of the Hildon Dale Redbreasts, and her family had been in Yorkshire since the Vikings came from the sea, to rape, pillage, and settle. Yes, she said, it was likely her ancestors had some of that raping and pillaging blood in their veins.

I moved ever so slowly, planning to steer her eventually to what I wanted to talk about. When I handed her my teacup for a refill, I said, “Have you ever experienced any unpleasantness in The Blue Room, Mrs. Redbreast? Recognized, perhaps, that something was different in that room?”

She dropped her cup she was so startled. Fast as a snake, I managed to snag it in the air just before it hit her shiny oak floor. Thank God it was empty. I set the cup down and said calmly, “Do tell me about it, Mrs. Redbreast. I am the mistress here now, not Lady Caroline or her ghost. Tell me what you have seen or heard or experienced in that room or in other rooms, like the one where Mrs. Thomas was found napping on the floor.”

Mrs. Redbreast was a very large woman, on the shadowy side of middle age, but still handsome. Her black hair was streaked with white, but it was thick
and well styled. It was her face, though, that held me, her eyes. They were as dark as her hair and, at the moment, frightened.

Of all things, she began wringing her hands. I was swimming into very deep waters here.

I merely smiled at her. “Mrs. Redbreast, I am new here. My husband has given me something of a history of the family, but not nearly enough. I ask you to help me understand.”

“My lady,” she said slowly, “what happened yesterday was a shock to all of us.”

“A greater shock to Mrs. Thomas.”

“Oh, yes, the poor lady. But she fell asleep, that was all there was to it, just a nap, in the middle of the day, and door wasn't locked.”

“I'm very sure it wasn't by the time the gentlemen of the house were there to try it. But that isn't the point, is it? I am now the Countess of Devbridge, Mrs. Redbreast. There's no going back from that. This is now my home. Doubtless you've also heard all about what I reported happening to me last night.”

Oh, yes, she had heard, and I could imagine all the speculation going on below stairs. Very possibly all the servants were beginning to wonder if the earl hadn't married another Caroline. Well, I had changed my tack with the family. I would not, however, change with the servants. Servants knew everything, and they loved to talk. They were a part of the family, and everything that happened concerned them. They were my best bet at finding things out. Goodness, there was much wariness, or was it fear? in those dark eyes of hers.

Push her, I thought, and so I leaned toward her and clasped one of her large hands between mine. I
looked her right in the eye. “There is a malignant presence in the Black Chamber. There was something altogether different in that small empty room Mrs. Thomas went into. However, I simply don't know about the old woman who was in The Blue Room last night. Help me, Mrs. Redbreast. I don't wish to die in this house or perhaps lose my mind, as did Lady Caroline.”

Mrs. Redbreast pulled her hand away and rose very quickly for one of her size. She walked to the windows, and whipped back the dark blue draperies as if she were angry at them. Then she slowly turned back to me.

“Lady Caroline brought her madness with her, inside her. You are very sane, my lady. Now that you have admitted to the family that what happened last night must have been some sort of a nightmare, then no one could think otherwise.”

True enough, I thought. I smiled at her. “No, indeed not. Tell me about Lady Caroline.”

“After she killed herself, the poor lady, stories began to pop up, always spoken in whispers, about her returning to The Blue Room. I didn't want to believe them. Who wants to live in a house where there are spirits roaming about?”

“I don't want to,” I said, then nothing more, just waited.

“I finally went there myself, slept in that large bed, and I swear to you nothing happened. I slept very well, better than usual. And when I awoke I felt calm, perhaps even unusually calm.”

“Perhaps as if someone had watched over you that night, someone who liked you and had no wish to hurt you or frighten you?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes, that's exactly how I felt. There have been so many stories, and perhaps I believe some of them, but I would never admit that to his lordship. If the poor lady returns occasionally to that bedchamber, it is because she spent most of her time there and it is familiar to her.”

“Did Caroline spend a lot of time in that other small room that now stands completely empty?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Redbreast said. “It was her own private music room. She played her harp there, so beautifully she played, and the sweet sounds drifted from those windows. Everyone would smile and look up when they heard her playing her harp. Some have heard the harp over the years.”

“Why is the room empty?”

“His lordship had all the furnishings removed. I believe Lady Caroline's lovely harp is in one of the attics. No one goes in there anymore.”

“Because the door is kept locked?”

“Yes, that's exactly why. I open it once a week so that one of the maids can dust. But there is nothing more, my lady, I swear it to you. As to what happened last night, I don't know, I simply don't know. There are spirits, every great house has them, but it is something else when a spirit actually threatens you. No one would appreciate that happening.”

“Then it will remain a bad dream, Mrs. Redbreast, because anything else isn't acceptable.” I stood then. “I want to thank you. You have greatly eased my mind. That horrible misshapen old woman who came at me last night with Master John's knife, I will forget about it soon enough. Yes, that is the wisest course to follow.”

“But consider what happened to you yesterday,
my lady, so many dreadful things, and this is a new home. Something like that must of course seem utterly real, for you are there, trapped in the middle of it, so frightened it nearly swamps you.”

She'd hit that on the head. “Yes, all that,” I said, and walked to her door. I turned. “I hope that nothing more enters my dreams.” And, I thought, as I left her standing there, her hands clasped over her ample bosom, that more than likely she would doubtless tell the servants at dinner that who knew what had really happened to the new Countess of Devbridge in the middle of the previous night? Ah, who knew? A dream, an aberration, perhaps a vision? Who knew? The servants would talk and speculate, and perhaps one of them would know something and I would hear it.

I had never felt so alone in my life.

I
t was John who found me standing yet again in the middle of the small, empty room—Caroline's music room. I was thinking that Mrs. Redbreast had forgotten to lock the door again after all the commotion yesterday.

He came into the room. I didn't have to see or hear to know that it was him. There was a new spark in the air itself.

“I was told that you have changed your tale. Now you are agreeing with everyone that the old woman in your room last night was all a nightmare.”

“That's right,” I said easily as I turned to face him. I didn't move from the window. I wanted to keep my distance from him, particularly after last night.

“Well, then, if you truly believe it was some sort of dream, then there doesn't seem to be any reason for you to hie yourself back to London and to safety.”

“No, a knife in a dream can't stab you.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

I smiled at him then. “If one were to wonder,
however, why it took you so very long to open your bedchamber door, I wonder what you would say?”

“I was naked.”

I looked down at his body. I simply couldn't help myself. And he knew, damn him, he knew what he had evoked in my mind.

“Yes, you do know of naked men, don't you, Andy? And it distresses you.” Then he shrugged. “It doesn't matter. As I said, when you pounded on my door, I was naked and thus had to get my britches on.”

My eyes were strictly on his face now, and they would stay there.

I said, “Lawrence told me that Caroline resented you and Thomas. She wanted to bear the heir, you see.”

He accepted my shift and said readily enough, “I just don't remember. Caroline was—” He paused and looked toward the long windows, perhaps seeing something that was no longer there.

“Was what?”

“She was like a fairy princess. I was a boy, all of twelve years old. Thomas and I had only lived here for about six months before Uncle Lawrence married her. Neither of us minded in the least. Caroline was kind, it seemed, and her laughter was the sweetest sound I had ever heard in my young boy's life. There was something else, of course. She was all of eight years my senior. Even then Uncle Lawrence wanted a very young wife.”

“You saw nothing at all wrong with her?”

“You're speaking of her madness. That came later, after she and my uncle had been married awhile, perhaps a year or so. I remember the servants
wondering aloud at some of the strange things they had been told she had done. I remember Uncle Lawrence telling me that my stepmother wasn't feeling well. And I can remember telling him that she was breeding and that was obviously why she wasn't feeling well. I told him that ladies occasionally vomited when they were breeding.”

“You, a twelve-year-old boy, knew that? Actually said that to your uncle?”

“Oh, I was thirteen then, perhaps fourteen. Yes, I told him that, and I got clouted for it. To be honest, I remember Caroline as laughing, as carefree, nothing more, nothing less. But I was rarely here during their marriage or afterward. Are you jealous of my uncle's second wife?”

I didn't say anything. I stared at him hard now, and said, “If one were to imagine, just for a moment, mind you, that the old woman really happened last night, it occurs to me that you are the only person in Devbridge Manor who would like to see me long gone from here.”

“Yes, that's quite true. You don't belong here, not as my uncle Lawrence's nubile young wife, who sleeps alone in her own bedchamber while he sleeps alone in the master's suite.”

“It is none of your affair what either of us does.”

There was that flash of anger or violence in his dark eyes. I couldn't miss it this time, it was dark and intense and deep as a well, and I felt it like a blow. “If I could,” he said, his voice low and savage as he turned to leave, “I would throw you in a carriage and drive you to London right now. But you know, Andy, I would never call you an abomination. Isn't that what the old woman said?”

And then he was gone before I could say anything.

I turned back to the window. I don't know how long I stood there, not really thinking, just being there to absorb anything that might be in this strange room when she called out to me from the doorway. For one instant, I believed it was Caroline, come here now to find me in her room.

“I hope you are feeling well today, Andy.”

Naturally it wasn't Caroline.

“Judith,” I said as I turned around. I was pleased to see her. There was no guile, nothing at all hidden beneath her sweet girl's face. “I am fine, thank you.”

“I was worried about you, Andy. So was Miss Gillbank. She said what happened to you was perfectly dreadful. She said she didn't think she would have had the courage to dash to the bedchamber door like you did.”

“I think all of us find we can do just about anything when we are forced into it.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“This was your mother's music room, wasn't it?”

Judith nodded and began walking around the empty room, touching her fingertips to the wall here and there. “That's what Mrs. Redbreast told me. She said my mother played the harp so very beautifully. I don't appear to have any of her talent. Miss Gillbank says I should just keep practicing, but I know she believes it's hopeless. Andy, what happened last night, do you really believe now that it was a nightmare?”

“Well, that's what everyone else believes, so perhaps it is what really happened.”

“That was well said, but you didn't say anything.”

It was not as easy to lie to her as I had to everyone
else. “You will keep this to yourself, Judith, all right?”

Her eyes grew larger, and she stepped right up to me. “What? I swear I'll not tell a soul.”

“The old woman last night was very real.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because George saw her. He saw her clearly because he barked his head off, nearly leapt out of my arms to attack her. A dog doesn't bark at someone else's nightmare.”

“Oh, goodness, you're right. There is no doubt then. Did you tell Father that?”

“No, I didn't. Listen to me, Judith. Adults don't like to believe in things that cannot be readily explained. It makes them nervous, uncertain. Even if I told them about George, they wouldn't like it. They would prefer to believe that I made that up, too.”

“But you didn't. Have you decided what you are going to do?”

“I smiled at her and managed to speak the truth at the same time. It was difficult. “You mean, am I going to leave Devbridge Manor before I'm made to pay for all of it?”

“That's what the old woman said to you?”

“Yes, and a lot more besides.”

“What is it you are supposed to pay for?”

“I don't know. But I remember that I am also the evil that revisits this house. Does that make any sense at all to you?”

She shook her head. Perhaps I was speaking too frankly to her, but I felt she deserved the truth. “I wish I could think of something,” she said then, and walked to join me by the window. “I used to stand here and watch the gardeners scythe the front lawn.
The sweet grass smells came right up through the open window. It was summer then, of course. I don't want you to leave, Andy, but I know that you must be frightened by all this.”

“I don't want to leave, either. I am the mistress here now. Most would say that I belong here.”

“Then, what are we going to do?”

It was we now, not just me and George. She stuck out her hand, and I took it. “Would you like to come with me to The Blue Room? Perhaps we can find out who scared me so badly last night. It was John's knife the old woman had. Then later, the knife was back in its place, in John's collection, sitting in its velvet case. How did that happen do you think?”

“Oh, no, you don't believe it was John who disguised himself as that horrid old woman and came into your bedchamber?”

“It was his knife. When I ran down the hall and pounded on his bedchamber door, it took him time to open the door. I wonder why.”

“Oh, dear, you're wondering if it took him awhile to shuck off that tangled gray wig and that old woman's gown?”

“And replace that Moorish knife of his back in its glass case.”

“But, Andy, if he was in your room and he didn't chase you down the hall, then how could he have gotten back to his bedchamber to answer your knock?”

“That's an excellent question, isn't it? There's more, Judith. I locked my bedchamber door before I went to bed.”

She cocked her head at me, a thick tress of blond hair falling like a curtain down her cheek. “I don't
understand. No, wait.” Then Judith, that very proper little girl who made wagers, whistled. “Another way into The Blue Room? A secret passage? That's what you are thinking, isn't it? Oh, goodness, Andy, a dark narrow passage that winds throughout the house. Oh, my.”

“There is another possibility. The ledge outside the windows. It's wide enough so someone could make their way along it and then climb back into another room.” I wasn't about to tell her that this was how her mother had escaped to make her way to the north tower and kill herself.

“I would rather have a secret passageway,” Judith said, and bounded out of the room with me following more slowly behind her. Actually, I thought, I would prefer a secret passageway myself. Was it a mistake to take her into my confidence? I didn't think so, but nothing made sense here at Devbridge Manor. At least since I had arrived here.

“You've never heard anyone speak of any passageways? Your father? Brantley? Anyone?”

“No,” she said, clearly disappointed. “But if there is one that opens into The Blue Room, we will find it. But you know, Andy, Father is the one to ask. Surely he would know, would he not?”

“Very probably.” But I couldn't very well ask Lawrence about secret passageways and such. Of course he would know, but if I asked, then he would know that I hadn't changed my tale at all. He would know that I firmly believed the old woman was as real as he was.

“Don't you ask him, Judith. Let's just keep this between ourselves for the time being. Now, you and I can spend some time hunting up that passageway.
All right?” She agreed, very quickly. I couldn't remember if a twelve-year-old girl could be counted on to keep mum about anything.

I opened the door and walked into The Blue Room. George was sleeping in front of the fireplace. He cracked open an eye, saw Judith, obviously remembered that she adored him, and got lazily to his paws, taking his time to stretch out each leg. But he didn't bark.

“Evidently Brantley has been giving him more lessons,” I said, still amazed. “That is why he isn't barking his head off now.” I watched Judith walk to George, go down on her knees, and say in the most worshipful voice, “Have you missed me, George? Should you like to come and sleep with me one night? I'll sneak down to the kitchen and bring you anything you would like.” She raised her face to me. “Can he be bribed, Andy?”

“In an instant,” I said. “He adores crispy bacon. You feed him that, and he is yours.”

George licked Judith's hand, and allowed his acolyte to pick him up in her arms. He had no shame.

Judith laughed, and George licked her face until his tongue must be dry. She said then, “Why were you standing alone in Mother's music room, Andy?”

“Like you, I enjoy the prospect from the front window. I'm also considering making use of it myself. Perhaps I can make it a study, where I can write letters and such.”

She nodded. She didn't care one way or the other. To be expected, since her mother had died shortly after birthing her.

“This is a large room,” I said. “I believe I'll start on the wall with the fireplace.”

Judith gently set George back onto the rug that lay in front of the fireplace. He went back to sleep, and I'd swear that mutt had a grin on his ugly little face.