The Midnight Rose (63 page)

Ari made his way downstairs, his head full of the new information he’d gleaned. He was still filled with a sensation of euphoria at the thought of Anahita’s being right all along. Although, who knew what had become of Moh once he had left Devon?

He suddenly thought of someone who might . . .

The other thing that was troubling him was Mrs. Trevathan’s very definite presumption that it would have been Mabel whom Rebecca had seen in the downstairs bedroom last night. Mabel herself had just told him she couldn’t walk, so how on earth could she manage to wander
the hall in the depths of the night? And as for describing her as partly senile, Ari knew he’d not met an elderly woman since Anahita who was clearly as compos mentis as Mabel was. Mrs. Trevathan was obviously lying. The question was, why?

•  •  •

Rebecca was dreaming, dreaming again of the singing, of the smell of the flowery perfume, of running away from Astbury and all the dangers it presented . . .

With a jolt, she awoke, opened her eyes and found her vision was blurred. She moved a hand to rub her eyes to try to clear them, but her arms seemed to be stuck fast behind her back and she longed to release them because they ached. The scent was strong, as strong as it had ever been, and in the dim light, the woman she’d seen before was here again.

I’m dreaming
, she thought,
I’m asleep and I’ll wake up and then she will be gone.

Some time later, Rebecca’s senses told her she
was
awake and she forced her eyes open. Thankfully, her vision had cleared and this time she could see the back of the woman she had seen the night before, sitting at her dressing table brushing her hair. She bent her neck and saw her own knees. She was sitting on a high-backed chair, and, as she tested out parts of her body, she found her arms were tied behind her and her ankles were strapped together beneath her. Still woozy, and with a headache that made the others she’d suffered from recently feel like a walk in the park, Rebecca struggled to collect her thoughts and find out where she was. Tilting her head slowly upward, her instincts immediately told her this was not her bedroom at Astbury Hall.

Rebecca closed her eyes. Slowly, her drugged brain released information: Anthony’s marriage proposal, his sudden aggressive kiss, her flight from Astbury Hall in search of the film crew on the moors, the cloth going over her face and then—blackness.

She tentatively opened her eyes again and studied the woman. She breathed deeply, knowing that the more oxygen she inhaled, the faster her brain would clear from whatever drug she’d been given. Whoever it was that was sitting at the dressing table in front of her was certainly not a frail old lady of over ninety. From the back, her frame was broad and sturdy.

Rebecca studied her own legs and saw that they were no longer
covered in jeans, but in the soft silk fabric of a skirt that skimmed her ankles. Surreptitiously moving her eye line up the front of her body, she saw the same material covered her upper torso too.

She was wearing a dress. Which meant that whoever this woman was, she had undressed her. A shudder of terror ran down Rebecca’s spine.

I will die, just like Violet, I know I will . . .

She closed her eyes, her head and heart pounding. An instinctive deep breath escaped her, despite her efforts to stifle any sound.

“I know you’re awake. I can see your eyelids twitching.” There was a sudden, tinkling laugh. “Open them and show me their beauty. You won’t come to any harm, I promise. My name is Alice, by the way. Just like in
Alice in Wonderland
.”

With every ounce of mental strength she possessed, Rebecca did as she’d been asked and saw that Alice had turned around to face her. She caught her breath in horror, for this was not a woman, but a ghoulish parody of femininity. The long, blond hair framed a face caked in badly applied makeup. Blue eyelids, false eyelashes covered in mascara, black liner around the entire eye. Bright red lipstick melted into the small cracks of aging skin, and vivid circles of pink blusher glowed on each cheek.

“There we are,” said Alice, smiling at her. “See?” She patted her hair. “Am I so scary?”

Rebecca persuaded her mouth to shape a “no.”

“Well, I do apologize for having to take such measures to keep you with me. It really wouldn’t have been right for you to have left. I hope you see that. You’re my new friend.”

Instinct told Rebecca she must simply agree with everything Alice said while she tried to understand what was happening and get her bearings.

“You poor thing, you look awfully pale, so I shall go downstairs and make you a nice cup of tea.”

Rebecca nodded again.

“Do answer me, my dear. Mummy always said it was rude not to.”

“Yes please,” Rebecca managed to say.

“Good-oh.” Alice stood up, and Rebecca realized how tall she was. From her lowly viewpoint, the woman towered above her. Her eyes followed Alice as she walked from the room, and saw that she wore an old-fashioned silk dress, not dissimilar to the one Rebecca herself had
also been dressed in. As Rebecca wrenched her head around as far as it would go to watch her leave, she saw enormous feet wedged into a pair of silk shoes.

“Oh God, oh God . . . ,” she breathed, begging her sluggish brain to make sense of what she’d just seen. Finally, having the freedom to turn her head, she looked around and saw she was in an unfamiliar bedroom. The old-fashioned brass bedstead had a patchwork quilt upon it and the closed curtains were sprigged with faded flowers. The dressing table was heaped with cosmetics lying on its marble surface. A bottle of the same perfume that had been in Violet’s room stood open.

Think, Rebecca, think . . .

She let out a sob of despair. She didn’t understand what was wanted from her.

And
who
was Alice?

She heard the heavy tread of footsteps approaching and turned her head back to where it had been.

“Here we are, I’ve made you a nice cup of tea. I’ll untie you and then you can drink it yourself,” Alice said as she put down two cups of tea on the dressing table, slopping most of the contents out as she did so. She came toward Rebecca, moving behind her to free her wrists, and then walked around the chair and bent down to untie her ankles. “I do hope I didn’t hurt you; it was only so that you didn’t fall off the chair while you were sleeping. I used a silk scarf so your wrists wouldn’t chafe. There we go, that’s better now, isn’t it?”

And as Alice turned her eyes toward her for a response, Rebecca realized exactly who she was.

•  •  •

Talk of the devil
, Ari thought as Mrs. Trevathan appeared along the bedroom corridor and looked at him anxiously.

“Have you seen Rebecca?” she asked him.

“I thought she was having dinner with Lord Anthony.”

“She was, but then she disappeared. I’ve checked her room and it seems she’s left, because all her belongings have gone, as has her suitcase.”

“Really?” Ari frowned. “Perhaps she finally decided she wanted to move to a hotel. I wouldn’t blame her, given the fright she had last night.”

“Yes, that occurred to me too,” said Mrs. Trevathan, “but I thought she might have asked you to take her.”

“Well, surely the person to ask is Lord Anthony himself? After all, he was the one having dinner with her.”

“Yes, but normally after dinner, he takes himself off to his bedroom and I don’t like to disturb him.”

Ari could see Mrs. Trevathan looked nervous. “Well, perhaps on this occasion, you can make an exception? If you show me where his bedroom is, I’ll go and ask him.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” she answered. “Perhaps first I should telephone Steve, the production manager, to see if he’s heard anything from her. He should be back at his hotel by now.”

“Good idea.” Ari nodded.

He watched her walk downstairs to the telephone in Anthony’s study. He went into Rebecca’s room and saw that it was indeed deserted; all of her things were gone. He left the room and followed Mrs. Trevathan downstairs to see if there was any news from Steve, but her frown told him immediately there wasn’t.

“He hasn’t heard a dicky bird, I’m afraid,” she said.

“If you could hand me a telephone directory, I’ll call the local hotels and see if she has arranged a room for herself,” said Ari.

Fifteen minutes later, Ari had drawn a blank on any establishment within twenty miles. Steve had called to say he’d had the same idea and result.

Ari paced up and down the small study. If Rebecca
had
decided to leave, he was sure she would have left him a message in his room, or, at the very least, told Mrs. Trevathan. She was simply too polite to walk out. And besides, who had driven her? Steve had said Graham hadn’t heard from her either. Unless she’d called a taxi herself.

“Any news?” Mrs. Trevathan asked as she came back into the study.

“No. It seems Rebecca has disappeared into thin air. I’m now seriously concerned, and I’m afraid that it’s time to ask Lord Anthony. He was, after all, the last person to see her.”

“He told me he didn’t want to be disturbed during dinner,” said Mrs. Trevathan suddenly, as if she was remembering.

“Really? Isn’t that unusual?”

“I—” Mrs. Trevathan sighed. “One never knows what’s going on in his lordship’s head.”

“Where’s his bedroom?” said Ari, marching from the study and
heading for the stairs. “Because if you don’t tell me, I’ll batter down every last door in this godforsaken mausoleum until I find him.”

“All right, all right,” said Mrs. Trevathan, close to tears. “I’ll take you to him.”

Walking along the corridor on the other side of the main staircase from the one he and Rebecca occupied, Mrs. Trevathan passed a number of doors and paused outside one toward the end of it.

“This is his suite,” she said. “Now, please wait along the corridor while I knock. I don’t want him to see you here if he opens the door. He really doesn’t like being disturbed by strangers at night and it’s more than my job’s worth to do so.”

Ari took a few steps backward. Satisfied, Mrs. Trevathan gave a rap on the door.

“Your lordship? Sorry to disturb you, but I need to speak with you urgently,” she said loudly.

There was no reply.

“He may be asleep,” said Mrs. Trevathan, glancing apprehensively at Ari. “I’ll try again.” She did so, but still got no response.

“You’ll have to go in and wake him up,” ordered Ari.

He watched the fear on Mrs. Trevathan’s face as she paused. “He really doesn’t like anyone entering his room without his permission.”

“For God’s sake, tell him it’s an emergency! And if you won’t, I will.” Ari took a step toward the door and instantly Mrs. Trevathan opened it herself.

“Wait there,” she said as she disappeared inside and closed the door behind her.

A few seconds later, she emerged. “He’s not in his room.”

Ari stared at her, not convinced.

“Listen, young man, I’m as worried about Rebecca’s disappearance as you are, and I am telling you now his lordship isn’t in there. Although it’s not unusual for him to take himself off on night walks.”

“And where would he usually take himself?”

“Oh, just off around the estate.”

“Mrs. Trevathan!” Ari’s patience finally ran out. “It’s well past midnight now and Rebecca is still missing. Now Anthony is apparently missing too. I’m worried enough to call the police right now.”

Mrs. Trevathan looked at him in horror. “Please! Don’t do that. I’m sure she’s fine. Perhaps she went with his lordship . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“I realize your loyalties are divided, but we’re both aware you know more than you’re saying. I saw your mother earlier, the woman you convinced me wandered the house at night. She told me herself that she can’t get about without a wheelchair. It wasn’t her that Rebecca saw the other night, was it? You were lying, Mrs. Trevathan. So, you have precisely thirty seconds to tell me where I can find Lord Anthony before I call the police!”

Ari walked swiftly along the landing and down the main staircase, and marched back into the study. Mrs. Trevathan hurried to catch up with him and entered the room panting with exertion. She watched as Ari lifted the receiver, his fingers paused above the dial. There was a standoff for a few seconds before Mrs. Trevathan capitulated.

“Stop, please . . .” Her voice trailed off as she collapsed in tears into a chair. “I knew that upsetting his routine would be bad for him. As long as he has peace and quiet and privacy, we can cope between us. It’s all this disruption that’s done it, I should have seen it coming.”

“Look, just tell me where they might be and I’m sure we can sort all this out without involving the police.”

Mrs. Trevathan gave a final breath of surrender.

“We’ll need to take your car.”

A
s she went through the ritual of drinking tea with Alice, a thousand thoughts ran through Rebecca’s mind. She made the polite responses Alice seemed to require to keep her happy, and Rebecca’s slowly awakening mind began to mull over the past few weeks and slot the answers into place.

“Isn’t this fun? We’re having a tea party together!”

“Yes.”

“Mummy simply worshipped you, you know, Violet,” Alice said. “She kept your suite of rooms pristine, she made sure the servants dusted them every day, had fresh linen put on your bed, flowers in all the vases. Of course, you were dead, but she always said I’d meet you one day. I think she meant in heaven, but here you are on earth! Isn’t that just lovely?”

“Yes,” Rebecca answered obediently.

“Of course, while you weren’t here, while you were up there, Mummy liked to pretend that
I
was Violet.” Alice stroked her hair. “Mummy always said I was the spitting image of you when I was a child. She grew my hair long and I wore it in pretty silk ribbons. She used to buy me the most beautiful dresses, sent from Harrods, just like this one I’m wearing now.”

“It’s very beautiful,” Rebecca said, having learned fast that Alice liked flattery.

“Thank you. It’s so nice to sit here and have a pleasant conversation with another young lady. Mummy was never keen on boys—or men, for that matter. Nasty, aggressive, smelly things, she always said. Much better to be a girl. I remember her telling me they were only useful for one thing, and I think we both know what that is, my dear.” Alice tittered and a genuine blush came to her cheeks.