Menfreya in the Morning (35 page)

Bevil went to Lansella the next day. I didn’t go. I couldn’t

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bear to face everyone who I knew would be talking about my “death.” I would wait awhile, I promised myself, until the talk had died down.

Fanny came in with my breakfast tray. She said I shouldn’t hurry to get up.

She looked extraordinarily drawn. I was sure that the Hamforth shock had frightened her as much as it had me.

“Fanny,” I said, “you mustn’t worry.”

“Worry!” she said. “I’m well nigh out of my mind for wondering what’s the right thing to do-“

“Do you think we ought to tell about the lemon barley? Everything seems different now.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” said Fanny nodding at the tray. “I went down to the kitchen and cooked it myself.”

“Oh, Fanny, I’m safe while you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t let no harm come to you.”

“You see, Fanny. I’m being warned. Who would warn me?”

Her face screwed as though she were going to cry.

“Did someone stop the clock to warn me? Did they send that letter to Hamforth’s to warn me? Then it looks as if whoever did these things wants me to be prepared. It wouldn’t be the same one who wanted me dead, would it?”

She spread out her hands and stared down at them, shaking her head.

Suddenly she stopped and looked at me sharply. There’s something I’ve got to tell you. It’s that Miss Trelarken. You can always tell. I can see it in her face. It does something to a woman. I know, I tell you.**

“Know what?”

“I went into her room this morning. The little boy came down to the kitchen before she was up. I took him back, and she was there without her dress. In her petticoat she was. She always wears those full skirts, but in her petticoat you could see.”

I stared at Fanny.

“I swear it’s true,” she said, “that Miss Trelarken is going to have a child.”

“Fanny, it’s not possible.**

“I’d say it was.”

“No,” I said. “No.” I felt sick with the horror of it I couldn’t bear to read the suspicions and conclusions in Fanny’s eyes. “It was growing so like that other story that it was be-

coming like a nightmare. The pregnant governess. The wife in the way. What had she said? “They would hate each other. They would want to murder each other.”

It couldn’t be so. I had become obsessed by the governess story. And then suddenly I remembered how she had stood dose to me on the parapet before she had fainted,

It was true, of course. Jessica Trelarken, like the governess in the story, was going to have a child.

Evil thoughts crowded into my mind. Was the ghost on the island, seen by the girls, Bevil—keeping a secret tryst with his mistress? Hadn’t he always used the island for his youthful adventures? I imagined the desperation of lovers, the whispered conversations, the hopes, the fears. And then … the poisoned lemon barley. Jenny had died through taking arsenic, which she had presumably procured through her theatrical friends. And Jessica? I knew now that her complexion, so perfectly smooth, so fresh yet somehow translucent, was like Jenny’s had been. Did Jessica have arsenic in her possession, as Jenny had had? How could she get it? Easily. Her father would use it in making up his medicines, and a quantity of it could have been in his dispensary at the time of his death. Jessica would have known what it was. She would have read of Jenny’s experiments and might well have tried some herself. What was more natural than that a woman who saw the effect of her beauty on all around her should attempt to enhance it?

If Jessica had arsenic hi her possession, it was reasonable to suppose that some belonging to her had found its way into my lemon barley.

She had hankered after my position when she came to Menfreya—and now perhaps, if Fanny were right, she desperately needed it And how could she attain it while I stood there to prevent her?

Was Jessica trying to kill me?

Then who had warned me? Surely someone who knew what she was trying to do. But then why not tell me simply. Why go to such lengths as stopping the clock and sending the undertaker to measure me for my coffin?

There was only one answer. Whoever was trying to warn me did not want to disclose his—or her—identity.

A’Lee’s mischievous face came into my mind. Could it be? He had always been my friend. Perhaps he had seen them on the island. Was he not the one who had brought

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them over on the night they had been caught there? The thoughts whirled around and Fanny sat by my bed, frowning as she pulled at the corners of her apron.

Luncheon was a quiet meal that day. I shared it with Sir EndeUon and Lady Menfrey; they were subdued, as we had all been since the Hamforth affair. Jessica had lunch in the nursery with Benedict for which I was glad; I was sure if I saw her my looks might betray the suspicions which Fanny had started in my mind. William Lister did not join us; he was busy in the study, and Bevil had not returned from Lamella. I supposed that the new development hinted at by the Prime Minister’s invitation was being discussed.

I went back to my room after luncheon. Menfreya was quiet at that hour. The servants were all in their own quarters; my parents-in-law were resting. Jessica remained in the nursery with Benedict, and WUliam was at work.

There was a knock on my door, and Fanny came in.

She said: “I’m going over to the island. Would you come with me? I did want to talk to you about some of the work over there. Besides …”

I had talked to Fanny a great deal about my projects for the island house, and she bad been wholeheartedly in favor. I guessed she would be a great help to me when I started my holiday scheme. Perhaps, I thought, she wanted to discuss something with me, but it was more likely that she wanted me to be with her.

“Put on a warm coat,” she said. “The wind’s that chilly. Here. Wrap yourself up welt You go on ahead. Ill catch up.”

Before I had reached the shore she was with me. We pushed out the boat and rowed over.

I smiled sadly at her and said: “Fanny, the fact is you don’t want me out of your sight, do you?1*

“That’s about it,” she said. “But there’s things I want you to see over there.”

I tried to draw my thoughts away from fears and think of the summer when the house would be full of children. It seemed a long way in the future.

“I could put up six little beds in the big front bedroom,” I said; “and then there are the other bedrooms. The island will seem a paradise to them. We shall have to make a rule

that they don’t attempt to row themselves to the mainland without an adult though.”

Fanny was nodding, pleased to see my thoughts moving in a new direction.

As we walked up to the house Fanny said: “When I was hi the kitchen the other day I noticed this here cellar. You can lift up one of the stone flags. You’d hardly notice it was any different from the others … unless you knew. But that was the idea, of course. You come along and I’ll show you.”

Fanny stood at the door of the house overlooking the sea and Menfreya, as though momentarily reluctant to tear herself away.

“It’s a sight,” she admitted grudgingly.

And a sight it was even on this January day, with the sea a darkish green crimped with frothy waves. I stood with her, looking back to Menfreya—gray, almost menacing in the afternoon light.

Fanny’s eyes were gleaming with an expression I did not understand.

“Come on in. I want you to see this cellar.”

I followed her into the kitchen, where with some effort she lifted the flagstone. “You’ve got to understand it,” she said, “It’s not easy to open.” Having exposed a cavity in the floor, she turned to a cupboard and taking out an iron candlestick stuck in a candle and lighted it.

“There are some stone steps leading down into this cellar,” she said. “I’m going to have a look.”

“You must be careful, Fanny.”

“I’ll be careful all right. It’s where they used to hide the kegs of whiskey, Jem Tomrit told me.”

“He told you?”

“Yes, he toid me. You remember how upset he was when he thought there was a ghost on the island. He saw a man there … clear as he saw me, he told me. He said it was a ghost of one of them that had been drowned at sea. Here, hold this candle a minute. Give it to me when I’m down.”

She descended and held out her hand for the candle. I heard her exclamation when I handed it to her. “Oh, I say!”

“I’m coming to have a look.”

“You take care. These steps are steep. Give me your hand.”

I descended four or five steps and saw that Fanny was

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right. We were in a sort of cellar. I saw there were several more steps to be descended as I peered down.

I went down a few steps to stare into the darkness below me when suddenly there was a thud, and the shaft of light which had come through the trap door from the kitchen disappeared. I looked behind me.

“The trap door has fallen, shutting us in!” I said. “Yes, Miss Harriet” Her voice was soothing. “Don’t worry. It’ll be all right” “It*s so dark.”

“Your eyes will get accustomed to the gloom in a minute.”

I descended a few more steps, and it was as though my foot was seized in an icy grip. Water!

“Fanny,” I cautioned. “Be careful. There’s water down here.1*

“It gets flooded by the high tides.”

“Well, the thing is to get that door open and let in some light This candle’s not much good.”

“Look over there,” said Fanny. “There’s light over there.** “Why, yes. It’s coming through a grating.” That grating is in the garden. It was overgrown by brambles till I cleared them away.** “Why?”

“I thought it best” **So you knew about this, Fanny?”

“Oh yes, I knew. I told you I went to see Jem Tomrit I used to sit with him and make him talk to me. He was worried. You see, he thought the ghosts had come back to the island … the ghosts of dead men, and he was afraid they’d come to haunt him” “Why should they?’

“Because he was a murderer of men. This was where they used to bring the smuggled goods, and when the excise men was on their tracks they’d lure them here. They used to let them search the place, and they’d leave the trap door not exactly open but so as it could be seen there was a trap door there. Down they’d go… never to come out alive,** “It’s a horrible place. I’ve seen enough of it” “Well, when the tide’s high the water comes in. It comes through that grating, see … That’s what it’s put there for.

This was built with an express purpose, so Jem Tomrit told me. Do you know what today is?”

Today, Fanny?”

“Well, this Jem Tomrit told me a lot, he did. There’s times when the tide comes up higher than ever. It’s called spring tide, and there’s a reason for it. The moon and the sun or something. Don’t ask me. It happens at this time of the year, seemingly. Well, it’ll be tonight at half past eight”

I had begun to shiver—not so much with the cold dampness of this place but by the strangeness of Fanny.

**At spring tide this cellar is flooded right up to the top.”

“Fanny,” I said, “let’s get out of this place. It’s damp and cold. We’ll explore it properly later.”

“How are we going to get out?” she asked.

“The way we came in, of course.”

“It’s a snap lock. It shuts itself. You can only open it from outside. The smugglers saw to that”

“That’s absurd.”

“I’m only saying what Jem Tomrit told me.”

“Then somebody’s shut us in.”

**Yes,” she said slowly, “someone’s shut us in.” She sat down on one of the steps and covered her face with the hand which was not holding the candle. “I had to be with you. I couldn’t leave you alone.”

“Fanny,” I said, “ydegu know something you haven’t told me.”

“Yes, Miss Harriet”

“You know that someone is trying to kill me?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re trying to stop them. But what are we doing here? Are you telling me that someone has shut us in this place?”

She rocked herself to and fro.

“You’ll drop the candle,” I said. I was not completely frightened yet, because Fanny was beside me. It was like waking from a strange nightmare during my childhood and screaming. Fanny had come to comfort me then; her presence meant security. She gave me that reassurance now.

“You knew about this place,” I said, “because Jem Tomrit told you. You say it’s flooded at high tide, and tonight there’s a spring tide. That’s at eighty-thirty. It’s not four yet. We’ll get out before high tide. We shall be missed.”

“Who’d think of looking here?”

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“There’s another thing that struck me. If the water floods this place at high tide, where does it go afterwards? A certain amount sinks into the sandy floor, I suppose, but wouldn’t there be much more water than this?”

“There was a big stone over the grating. Jem Tomrit told me how they used to take it away when they’d got prisoners here. Then they’d bail out after.”

“There’s no big stone over the grating now,” I said.

“It was hidden by brambles … and it’s been taken away. So now it’s how it used to be when this cellar was used for murder.”

“Fanny,” I said, “you’re not being very clear. You say you cleared the brambles. Then who took the stone away? Who shut the trap door just then? Fanny! Somebody is in this house now. They heard us go into the kitchen. They knew we had come down here and they shut us in!”

“He was here,” she said. “That was what frightened the wits out of Jem Tomrit. He saw him and he thought it was the ghost of a dead excise man, but it weren’t It were my Billy.”

“Your Billy. But Billy died years and years ago … before I was born.”

“Billy loved me true, but there was one he loved better. It was the sea. The sea was his mistress, and he’d leave me for her. You ought to have heard him talk about the sea. You knew then what he loved best. When he went away he said: ‘Don’t be frightened, Fanny. I’ll come back for you … Fll come back one day. I’ll take you to sea with me, one day. You wait for that, Fanny … and you be ready when the time comes.* Then suddenly it came to me what he meant. There’d be a sign. And now it’s come.”