A Battle of Brains (8 page)

She was in fact feeling rather tired and she would have liked to have gone to sleep.

Instead, she kept reading her book just in case she dozed off and would wake up to find it was morning.

Then at last she heard a loud voice in the distance.  She knew that Mr. Watson was now coming up the stairs, very likely with the help of her stepfather and he was certainly making a lot of noise about it.

His voice seemed to be echoing round the walls of Yolanda's bedroom.

He passed her door.

Now she could hear her stepfather's voice speaking in a somewhat soothing tone – as if he was trying to make Cecil Watson walk more steadily.

Then at last Yolanda heard them go into his room on the other side of the corridor.

A few minutes later her stepfather went to his room at the far end of the corridor.

Yolanda realised that his valet would be waiting up for him, so she listened for when he passed her door.

As he did so, he was speaking in a muffled voice to someone beside him and when a man answered, she knew that Cecil Watson's valet had joined him.

Now there was complete silence.  

Still Yolanda waited breathlessly as she wanted to make quite certain that there was no question of the valet returning or Mr. Watson not being asleep.

Half an hour must have passed.  

Finally she concluded that if she did not go into the boudoir now, she would fall asleep.

She climbed out of bed as quietly as possible and opened the drawer of her dressing table where she had put the key.

Then, very cautiously, she opened her bedroom door.

As she expected, the lights in the passage had been dimmed, but every third sconce still held a lighted candle.

Her stepfather was already planning to have gaslight installed in the house, but it entailed a great deal of disruption.

Therefore he had decided that he would not have it introduced until he was staying in London for a long time.

Yolanda actually preferred candles and loved eating in the dining room by candlelight.

Now in her feet bare, because she thought it would be quieter, she tiptoed down the passage holding a candle.

Very cautiously she opened the door into the boudoir attached to Mr. Watson's bedroom.

As she anticipated the lights had been turned out.

Her candle would provide her with enough light to see what she was looking for.

When she entered the boudoir, it seemed dark and gloomy with the curtains pulled over the windows.

So she lit another candle from her own and placed both of them side by side on the writing desk.

Her stepfather had been right.

He had said that the despatch case that Mr. Watson had brought with him would have been put either on or by the desk.

It was in fact lying on top of a blotter and Yolanda thought that would make it easier to open.

She bent to insert the key into the lock hoping there would be no difficulties.

She found it turned quite easily.

As she opened the hood of the case, she thought that her stepfather must have a collection of keys – perhaps he had one for every well-known make of despatch case.

He could therefore pry into the correspondence of every guest who stayed with him.  It certainly made things easier to obtain whatever information he wanted.

It seemed such an extraordinary way to behave and it was something Yolanda had never heard of before.

Now the case was open and she could see that there were a large number of papers inside it.

There were so many that she thought it would take a long time to find what she wanted.

She picked up a handful of papers.

Suddenly the door behind her was flung open.

Yolanda turned round terrified.

Mr. Watson was standing there with the light from his bedroom behind him.

He was wearing only a silk nightshirt.

For a moment he stared at her and then he asked in a thick voice,

“What do you want?  What are you doing here?”

Yolanda moved forward so that he should not see the open case behind her.

“I just – came in,” she stammered in a frightened voice, “to see that you have – everything you – want.”

“Everything I want?  I thought that was what I had,” he slurred in a drunken tone.  “Now I see you, I know
you
are what I want!”

As he spoke, he lurched forward towards her.

Realising what he had implied, Yolanda turned to run away.

But she was too late.

With unexpected swiftness Mr. Watson caught hold of her arm.

He pulled her against his chest.

“You're pretty, so damned pretty!” he slurred at her hoarsely.  “I was thinking over dinner that I could do with you and now you've come to me – that's just what I want!”

“Let me go!” Yolanda cried out.  “
Let me go!
”

She tried to struggle against him, but he was very large and she was very small.

Her struggles were having no effect on him and his arms held her completely captive.

Then she realised that he was trying to kiss her and she thrashed her head feverishly from side to side.

“Let me go!” she begged, but he laughed.

“You're what I've been wanting,” he gurgled, “but I didn't know it till now.  Lucky, that's what I am, always lucky and what can be luckier than to have you.”

He was pulling her, as he spoke, out of the boudoir and into his bedroom.

Yolanda realised that he was taking her towards his bed.

She gave a scream of sheer horror.

“Let me go!  
Let me go
!”

Now she was beating her fists against his chest.

But he merely laughed and it was a discordant and unpleasant laugh.

Then he muttered,

“Do you think that I'd let go of something the Gods have sent me?  Now do stop being so coy and we'll enjoy ourselves.”

By this time he had dragged Yolanda to the bed and she knew that he was going to push her down onto it.

She struggled wildly.

As he was so unsteady, she thought for a moment that she could force herself free of him.

Then, with what seemed to be a superhuman effort, he pushed her back onto the bed.

She screamed and screamed.

He threw himself violently on top of her and for a moment he almost made it impossible for her to breathe.

Then she felt him tearing at her dressing gown.

She screamed and screamed again.

She heard her nightgown tear and felt him pulling it away from her neck.

It was then that the door of the bedroom burst open.

“What the devil is going on in here?” she heard her stepfather demand furiously.

Yolanda howled again.

Mr. Garrack quickly realised what was happening.

In two strides he reached the bed and pulled Cecil Watson off Yolanda's body.

As Watson tried to struggle, he hit him hard on the jaw and he fell to the ground.

Mr. Garrack then picked up Yolanda who was still screaming.

“It's all right, Yolanda, it's all right, you are safe.  He will not hurt you now.”

She was shaking all over.

Because she was so obviously incapable of standing, her stepfather carried her out of the room into the corridor.

Now she was crying helplessly like a child who had been hurt.

As he walked with her towards her room, he said soothingly,

“It's all over.  He has not hurt you and I will see he does not come near you again.”

It was impossible for Yolanda to answer.

He had to put her down for a moment as he opened her bedroom door.

She was in a state of shock and would have fallen to the ground if he had not held her up with one arm.

When the door was open, Mr. Garrack had to pick her up again as he realised she was incapable of walking.

He laid her down on her own bed and in the light of the little candelabra he could see the tears running down her cheeks, streaming from her closed eyes.

He also saw how the top part of her dressing gown had been torn away from her neck.

He was, however, more concerned by her face than anything else.

She was deadly pale and her body was shaking.

He sat down beside the bed holding both her hands in his.

“It's all right!” he told her gently.  “It's all right and something that will
never
happen again!  Can I fetch you something to drink?”

Yolanda gave a gasp and then opened her eyes.

“
Save me
!  Oh, please do save me!” she called out desperately, her voice rising as she spoke.  “Save me!”

“I have saved you,” her stepfather insisted.  “You are perfectly safe now and I promise you he shall not come near you again.  It's all over.”

Yolanda clutched hold of his hand.

“He is
horrible
– beastly,” she muttered in a voice that did not sound like her own.

“I know that, but you have to be sensible and realise that he is drunk and you are a very pretty girl.  He was not thinking about who you are, just that you were a woman and in his room.”

His words seemed to reach her for the first time.

After a moment Yolanda opened her eyes, still holding frantically on to his hands.

“I am so – frightened,” she managed to stammer.

“I know you are, Yolanda, but now there is just no need.  I want you to go to sleep and forget all about what has happened.”

“He is so disgusting – and so repulsive!  I could not fight him, he was too strong!”

“I know that, but I expect by the morning he will forget what he has done.  He had more than enough drink to make him unconscious – or so I thought.”

Now there was an angry note in his voice.  He had thought when he brought Cecil Watson up to bed, he was too drunk to do anything but fall asleep.

He had been mistaken and now he was furious with himself that this drama should have occurred.

Very gently he released his hands from Yolanda's.

Then he rearranged the bed so that he could pull the bedclothes over her.

She was still wearing her blue dressing gown and he thought it best for her to sleep in it, as she should not move about more than was absolutely necessary.

Now she was quieter, but he noticed that her body was still trembling.

Although she had opened her eyes, she kept closing them – it was as if she was terrified of what she might see.

Mr. Garrack pushed her hair back very gently from her forehead.

“Now will you be all right if I leave you alone to sleep?  Or would you rather I asked someone to come and stay with you?  It will have to be one of the maids.”

“
No
!  No!  I don't want anyone!  But you will not let him come near me again?”

“No, of course not, Yolanda, I tell you what I will do. I will leave you, but I will lock you in.  Then tomorrow morning before the maid wakens you, I will come and open the door.”

“You will – lock my – door,” Yolanda repeated slowly.

She was forcing herself to fully understand what he would do.

“I will lock the door and I will take the key away, so no one can come near you.  Is that what you want?”

“Yes!  Yes!  Then I shall be safe!”

“You will be safe,” he said firmly.  “But, just in case you are still scared, I will leave the door of my room open.  If you scream loudly I shall hear you.”

“I will try to go to sleep,” Yolanda promised with an effort.

“That is most sensible of you and everything will seem better in the morning.  Now, don't be frightened any more because there is no need for it.”

He rose to his feet.

Then he pondered for a moment, walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains so that the moonlight could pour in.

Yolanda could see the stars from her bed.

“That will give you a little light.  Now, would you like me to leave the candles or blow them out?”

“You are quite sure that the door will be locked?” Yolanda repeated in an agitated voice.

“Shut and locked.”

“Then please blow out the candles and I will look at the stars.”

“I want you to close your eyes and go to sleep.  I am so very sorry that this has happened and you will have to forgive me.”

He did not wait for her to answer.

He walked across the room and opened the door.

“Goodnight, Yolanda.  Remember you are safe.”

He went out and she heard the key turn in the lock.

Then she hid her face in the pillow and burst into tears.

“How is Lady Yolanda?” Mr. Garrack asked of his housekeeper.

“She's very poorly, sir.  She won't get up, but just lies in bed staring at the ceiling.”

“Do you think she is really ill?”

The housekeeper shook her head.

“I don't know what it is, sir.  I talks to Emily who's her lady's maid and she says something about her Ladyship going back to a Convent where she's been abroad.”

Mr. Garrack's lips tightened.

He was silent for a moment and then he said,

“Tell her Ladyship that I wish to see her at twelve o'clock and it is very important.”

“I'll tell her, sir.”

When he was by himself in his study, Mr. Garrack sat for some minutes thinking.

Over his long career he had coped with all types of different men and invariably, even though at times it was difficult, he always got his own way.

He recognised that Yolanda was still suffering from shock, even though her encounter with Cecil Watson was now over three days ago.

She had not come out of her bedroom since.

She had merely sent messages to say that she was tired and was resting.

Now from what the housekeeper had just told him, Mr. Garrack thought that he must do something, although he was not certain what it should be.

It was exactly twelve o'clock when the door of his study opened and Yolanda entered.