Victoria Holt (26 page)

“And of course you did and saw the Devil.”

“Yes and no. I came, but His Satanic Majesty did not deign to put in an appearance on that night.”

“I am sure Miss Barston would love to see it. Shall we go down to her?”

“I have instructed Mrs. Keel regarding Miss Barston.”

“There doesn’t seem to be anything much to see up here,” I said. “Apart from the legend it might be an ordinary apartment.”

“There is so much I want you to see.”

“Well, show me.”

“It is a matter of understanding. You know how very much I am attracted by you.”

“I have noticed that you are inclined to appear rather frequently.”

“How else could I get you to realize what a fine fellow I am?”

“You don’t have to appear so frequently to keep me informed of that. I am constantly hearing of you. As we have said before, you are the main topic of conversation in the neighborhood. But what I can only call your waylaying me and contriving meetings like this is rather embarrassing. You must really understand that I am not one of your Mrs. Martindales or Miss Lyons…”

“Good heavens!” he said. “That goes back a long way.”

“You can be sure it was duly noted when it occurred.”

“Obviously, Hilda Lyons, a pretty little thing but no conversationalist.”

“She was a schoolmistress, I believe. Understandably she lacked the glamour of someone like Mrs. Martindale.”

“Not necessarily. Take Miss Grant for instance.”

“It is her future which interests me most.”

“And me,” he said, looking earnest suddenly.

I stood up but he was beside me. He put an arm about me.

“Please…don’t touch me.”

He took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him.

“You have a tremulous mouth,” he said. “It betrays you.” Then he kissed me. He frightened me. I felt he was going to crush my body. It was such a violent embrace.

I fought him off.

“You are insufferably—” I panted.

“Which is rather nice, eh?”

“Please do not use those tactics with me.”

“I know you are not Mrs. Martindale nor yet Miss Lyons. You are far more attractive…far more passionate…far more desirable than either.”

“Your past mistresses are of no interest to me.”

“You do not always speak the truth, do you? I thought schoolmistresses were supposed to. I’ll tell you something. They are of the utmost interest to you.”

“Do you always tell people what they must think, what they must do?”

“Always.”

“Not in this case.”

“I realize I shall have to work hard on it.”

“And bring no results. I am going down now. And please do not bring me here again on false pretenses. I shall not come. You may take what revenge you like. I am not coming when you beckon.”

“Then I shall have to resort to pleading.”

“Nothing will make me come here again.”

“Don’t make rash vows, Cordelia, because you are the sort of woman who would hate to break them. Come and sit down. I promise I won’t kiss you, touch you, or do anything which could cause offense while we talk.”

“Please say what you have to say and say it quickly.”

“You are a very attractive girl. You have all the social graces. After all, didn’t you spend—how many years was it?—at that place in Switzerland? Perhaps it has done something. I don’t know. I suppose that firmness of character, that unswerving desire to do what is right, were there all the time. What they have done is turn you into a young lady who would grace any circles.”

“Well?”

“Even a place like this.”

“Really!” I said with sarcasm.

“I mean it.”

“Then I am indeed flattered, and on that note I will take my departure.”

“I have not finished yet and as you have learned at that magnificent place whose name for the moment escapes me, young ladies do not move away when their hosts are speaking to them. They stay and listen and appear to be animated; in fact they give the impression of paying attention even though their thoughts are far away. Is that correct?”

“It is.”

“Then follow the rules of the school. I might even marry you.”

“Really, sir. Your condescension overwhelms me. But I should have to decline.”

“Why?”

“I should have thought that was obvious, and polite young ladies never talk of unpleasant matters.”

“Look at this place. You would be in your element. After all what was the business of Schaffenbrucken if not to prepare you to take your place at the head of some rich man’s table?”

“So you
have
remembered the name. I am so glad. That was indeed the purpose of Schaffenbrucken, but there are always the rogue pupils who are meant for another destiny.”

“You mean schoolteaching?”

“In some cases obviously yes.”

“Don’t be foolish, Cordelia. You are not going to teach silly girls all your life, are you? Are you going to be another Miss Hetherington?”

“Miss Hetherington is a very great lady. If I were like her, I should think I had done rather well.”

“Nonsense. You’re not a schoolmarm underneath. Don’t think I don’t know women.”

“I think you know a great deal about them…physically. Mentally I imagine you know very little. Certainly you do not seem to know much about me.”

“You’d be surprised. You are at the moment the virgin schoolmistress…prim, clinging to conventions, completely ignorant of the world. My dear Cordelia, beneath that schoolmistress is a passionate woman eager to escape…to life.”

I laughed and he laughed with me, but he said with feigned reproach: “You find me amusing?”

“Very. And I know your interest in me is directed to one goal.”

“You are right.”

“And that goal is seduction. Do you have formulae? This one for Marcia Martindale. This for Miss Lyons. Now here is Cordelia Grant. Which number for her?”

“You are very cynical. Don’t you give me credit for any deep feelings?”

“No.”

“My dear girl, you do delight me, you know. Really, I would marry you.”

“Aren’t you being rather rash. A penniless schoolmistress…”

“I have no need of money.”

“Nor have I. I am content with what I have. So you see it is no use your bringing me here and in your satanic manner showing me the riches which would be mine.”

“Everyone likes riches.”

“One can do much with money, yes. But in this case think of the price one would have to pay to be Lady Verringer, and grace your halls. You!”

“You are unconvincing. You are trembling with excitement at the prospect.”

“That’s not excitement,” I retorted. “It’s rage.”

I rose but he gripped my arm firmly and forced me to sit down.

“You know my problem. I need an heir. A son…”

“I have heard that mentioned too.”

“I want a son. I would marry you if you would give me a son.”

I stared at him incredulously and then I said: “Oh…I understand now. You want proof before you commit yourself. How wise! Other people marry and hope for children, but that is not the way of the Verringers. Am I right?” I burst out laughing. “I can’t help it,” I went on. “I just pictured your chosen women…kept at Rooks’ Rest until they showed what they could do. Like a harem or a Restoration play perhaps. Imagine it.”

He was trying not to laugh but he couldn’t help it and for a moment we gave ourselves up to our mirth.

I said: “It will be most amusing. At present you only have one there. That’s very tame. I can see them all in various stages. Who shall produce a boy and win the prize? Poor Marcia. Hers was only a girl. What a shame!”

I had seized the opportunity and made for the door. He was there before me and stood with his back to it facing me.

He said: “Cordelia, I want you. I fall more and more in love with you every time we meet. It’s important to me.”

“I should like to join Miss Barston.”

He stood aside and I tried to open the door. It was locked.

I turned to him; he was smiling at me and I thought: Yes, because I saw the purpose in his face, and I knew he was even capable…of this.

“Well,” he said, mockingly. “What now?”

“You will open this door,” I said, trying to sound firm but being somewhat unconvincing I was afraid.

“No, Miss Grant, I will not.”

“Let me out of here at once.”

“No, Miss Grant.”

“You lured me up here.”

“You came willingly with my housekeeper.”

“What is she…a sort of procuress?”

“She is obedient to my wishes as I expect all my servants to be. You are not so calm now, are you, Cordelia? Do I sense little tremors of expectation? I will show you what you were meant to be. We’ll call forth that wonderful passionate woman. We’ll let her sweep aside the prim schoolmistress.”

“You will let me out of here at once.”

He shook his head. “I have wanted you for a long time. I wanted you…willing.”

“Willing? Do you think…”

“Once you really know how happy I can make you, yes. But you are rather stubborn, aren’t you. That schoolmistress facade is quite formidable. I began to see that I should have to help you break out.”

With trembling hands I looked at the watch which was pinned to my blouse.

“Always the time!” he said. “What do we care for time on occasions like this?”

“I should be leaving now.”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t you realize…”

“I realize one thing. It obsesses me. I want you and if you are so stubborn as to turn away from what is the best thing for you I shall have to insist on bringing you to reason.”

“I hate you,” I said. “Can’t you see that? You expect every woman to fall into your arms. Not this one. And if you dare touch me you are acting like a criminal and I shall see that you are punished for it.”

“What fire!” he taunted. “What rage! Cordelia, you and I are lovers…”

“Haters for my part,” I spat out.

“If you are going to fight…fight. But you will soon see how much stronger I am than you. Come, let me take your coat. You look flushed and overheated. My dear love, Cordelia, you are going to be so happy…
We
both are.”

He was forcing me out of my coat. I kicked out at him and he laughed.

“Are you really capable of this,” I stammered. “I am not one of your servants, you know, nor one of your tenants who are afraid to stand up to you. My family will avenge this and so will I. Rape is not within the law, Jason Verringer, even for men like you.”

He took me by the shoulders and laughed at me.

“I would insist that you came here willingly, that you provoked me, enticed me, which is true.”

“You are a fiend.”

“I warned you of my great ancestor.”

Catching him suddenly off his guard, I broke away from him. I ran to the window. There were no bars across this one. He was close behind me and in desperation I beat on the glass with my bare hands.

The glass shattered. The blood ran down my arms onto the sleeves of my dress, spattering my bodice.

“Oh my God,” he cried. He was sobered. “Oh, Cordelia,” he went on almost sadly. “Do you hate me so much?”

I felt bewildered. My emotions were so mixed that I did not know what I felt. I was afraid of him, yes, but at the same time I wanted to be with him. It was a thought I would not admit into my mind but I did believe half of me wanted him to carry me into the room with the barred windows. Yet I had made this futile attempt to break the windows to escape. I was brought face to face with the fact that I did not know myself.

He was looking at my bleeding hands and his mood had changed. It was all tenderness now. He said: “Oh, Cordelia, my dear Cordelia!” and held me against him for a few seconds. I drew away from him. I could feel the tears on my cheeks. I wanted him to hold me tightly and to tell me that in some ways he knew me better than I knew myself. I was not the practical schoolmistress I made myself out to be. There was some part of me striving to get out.

He had taken my hands in his. “These must be attended to immediately,” he said.

He put an arm about me and led me to the door; and taking a key from his pocket unlocked it.

We went downstairs. Mrs. Keel came out of the library with Miss Barston behind her.

Miss Barston said: “We shall be late, Miss Grant. Oh…” She had seen my wounds.

“There’s been an accident,” said Jason Verringer. “Miss Grant cut her hands on a window. Mrs. Keel, get something to put on this…some bandages…You have some lotions…”

“Yes, Sir Jason.”

I sat down in a chair. I was aware of Miss Barston’s scrutiny. Jason was quite calm. I was amazed and my anger against him returned.

“You do look queer, Miss Grant,” said Miss Barston. “You have cut yourself badly…”

“I don’t think it is as bad as it looks,” said Jason. “When the blood is washed away we’ll see what harm has been done. The cuts don’t appear to be so very deep. The great thing is to clean the wounds. Mrs. Keel is quite knowledgeable about these things. There are often such accidents in the kitchen and she always manages to deal with them. How do you feel, Miss Grant? Ah, you look better now. Mrs. Keel won’t be long.” He turned to Miss Barston. “I was showing Miss Grant one of the apartments tied up in our family legends…We were saying you would be interested to see it. Then this happened. I’ll send someone over to Miss Hetherington to tell her you’ll be a little late returning. Then you can wait and go back with Miss Grant in the carriage. Miss Grant is certain to feel a little shaken after this. One of the grooms can take your horses over when he goes with the message to Miss Hetherington.”

How neatly he explained everything and how lightly he managed to introduce normality into the incident. I admired him while I deplored his expert manner in extricating us from an embarrassing situation. No doubt he had had a great deal of practice. I hated him for his suggestion and for his attempt to force me, and I was really rather amazed that he had so quickly given up his intentions at the sight of my blood.

I hated him, I assured myself vehemently…far too vehemently.

***

I was completely shattered by the experience and could not bring myself to talk of it. I answered questions as briefly as I could. Sir Jason had been showing me some of the apartments; I had unthinkingly put out my hands and broken the glass, cutting myself. Yes, certainly I had felt most embarrassed. I did not know whether it was particularly valuable glass. Yes, I must have put my hands out with some force. No, Sir Jason did not seem put out. He was most concerned about the damage I had done to myself. His housekeeper had bound up my wounds after carefully washing them and applying something; and Sir Jason had sent us back in his carriage.