Victoria Holt (39 page)

“But you forgive us?”

“Yes, I do, but remember…it was mean and cruel and wicked.”

“All right. I’ll tell Charlotte if she’s well enough.”

“Yes do, and tell her that I think you were two silly and immature girls…and that’s an end to the matter.”

“Oh, thank you, Miss Grant.”

After that she seemed to get quite fond of me and I liked her better too. She had been worried about that letter and that did show some finer feelings. I forgot how it had upset me and had really changed my feelings toward Jason; but it was a relief to know that at least that unsavory matter was cleared up.

During the next day Charlotte seemed a little better, but still very weak, and she hardly noticed that Eugenie was not in her room.

It was Eugenie’s second night in my room when I made the shattering discovery which was to open my eyes and make me realize that I was in the midst of some sinister and dangerous conspiracy.

Eugenie lay in her bed, ready for what seemed to be becoming a bedtime chat—a mark of our new relationship.

“Charlotte was all right during the day before she was so ill, and she was laughing and joking. She said she was going to see if she could jigjag the toboggan down the slopes the next day and to see if we could skate on the fish ponds. They were frozen then.”

“I hardly think Miss Hetherington would allow that.”

“We were sure she wouldn’t.”

“And you wouldn’t be so foolish as to attempt such a thing without first asking permission.”

“Oh no, Miss Grant, we shouldn’t have done that.”

“You do realize it could be very dangerous.”

“I think that was why Charlotte liked the idea. She was laughing about it. She was so well. She had a second helping of soup. She said it was too salty and it made her thirsty so later on she drank my milk as well as her own. I didn’t want mine. So it didn’t matter.”

I had been thinking of the girls’ attempting to skate on the fish ponds and was pulled up sharp.

“What did you say? She drank your milk?”

“Yes. She was so thirsty. The soup was too salty.”

I felt myself turn cold. Charlotte had drunk the milk intended for Eugenie and she had been ill as Eugenie had previously…when presumably Eugenie had drunk her own milk.

“Are you asleep, Miss Grant?”

“No…no,” I said faintly.

I was thinking of the milk which was served to the girls. Milk and two plain biscuits…the last thing before they retired to their rooms. I visualized the maids going round the tables and the tin of biscuits. The maids took it in turn to do this duty.

I heard myself say: “So…Charlotte drank your milk?”

“Yes. It shows she was all right because she drank her own as well.”

“Who gave you the milk? Do you remember?”

“No…It was one of the maids. I wasn’t noticing because Charlotte had this idea about skating on the ponds.”

“I wish you could remember.”

“Well, you don’t always notice the maids do you? They all look alike in their black dresses and white caps.”

I was thinking: Am I dreaming this? Eugenie sick three times…and when Charlotte drinks the milk intended for Eugenie she is ill. I wished Eugenie would stop chattering inconsequentially and would concentrate on this.

“She’s good fun and she’s clever. It did come out all right though we thought of it as a joke at first.”

“What?” I said absently.

“Oh, she knows a lot about old legends.” I realized then that she was talking about Elsa. “Do you believe in them, Miss Grant? She said if we went into the wood at full-moon time one of us would meet our future husband…and it happened to Fiona.”

“What?” I cried, sitting up.

“What’s wrong, Miss Grant?” asked Eugenie.

I must be careful, I thought. This is becoming frightening.

“Tell me more about that,” I said.

“It was May Day. That’s a special night for the old religions. Druids and all that, I think. Elsa said all sorts of things could happen on certain days and if we waited till the moon was full and went into the forest even in daytime, which was the only time we could go anyway, we’d meet a man…We laughed and didn’t believe it and we said we’d go into the woods and when we got back tell Elsa we had met a man, but when we went into the woods, there he was…”

My mouth was dry and I found it difficult to speak.

I said at last, “So you met this man and Fiona ran away with him.”

“Yes. It was so romantic.”

“Eugenie,” I said, “what was the name of the man you met in the woods.”

“It was Carl.”

“Carl What?”

“I never heard his other name. Fiona talked about him as Carl.”

“And you and Charlotte helped her to elope.”

“Yes, we did. On that night when we went to the Hall.”

“And you found a monk’s robe so that he could come to the Pageant?”

“It was so exciting. He had to see her that night to tell her what time she was to meet him. They were going to London first. We thought it was the most fantastic thing.”

“Eugenie,” I said quietly. “Miss Eccles says you have a real talent for drawing.”

“Oh does she? I love it. It’s my favorite subject. I wish I could do it all the time.”

“Could you draw me a picture of Fiona’s husband?”

“Oh…I could try. I’ll do it in the morning.”

“I want you to do it now.”

“No, Miss Grant! When I’m in bed?”

“Yes,” I said. “Now. I want to see it now.”

I got out of bed and found a pencil and paper. She sat up in bed and using a book as a prop, started to draw, screwing up her face in concentration.

“He’s very good-looking. It’s hard to do. It’s a bit like him though. Yes, he’s very good-looking. His hair is fair. It curls a bit…like that. His face…well, it’s different from other people’s faces. There’s a look in his eyes…I can’t get that.”

“Go on,” I said. “It’s coming.”

And so it was. The face that looked back at me bore a strong resemblance to that of the stranger in the forest.

I took it from her and put it carefully in a drawer. I was not sure what I was going to do now. I had made a discovery so startling that it numbed me.

I could not think what it meant.

“It’s funny you should want it now,” began Eugenie.

“It’s getting late,” I said. “I think we ought to go to sleep.”

She lay back and closed her eyes. “Good night, Miss Grant.”

“Good night, Eugenie.”

I was saying to myself, Fiona’s husband was Lydia’s husband. Lydia died skiing and he is teaching Fiona to ski. I was sure now that someone was trying to poison Eugenie, and that someone must be Elsa, who was deeply involved in this macabre affair.

I must act quickly. But how?

I did not sleep at all that night and the first thing in the morning I went to see Daisy. I had decided that I must lay the whole matter before her and I began by my account of meeting with the stranger in the forest. She listened in silence.

Then she said: “I think that you and I should go immediately to the Hall and tell Sir Jason this fantastic story. It seems that Eugenie may be in danger.”

I agreed and felt considerably better than I had during the night.

Early as it was we rode over to the Hall. Sir Jason was out riding, which he apparently did before breakfast, and when he returned was astonished to see us.

Miss Hetherington said: “You had better tell the story, Cordelia, just as you told it to me.”

So I did.

“It seems clear,” said Daisy, “that this maid of ours is connected in some way with the man who makes a practice of meeting girls in the forest and presumably sweeping them off their feet.”

“Clear enough,” said Jason. “It is obvious that he intended the same fate for you, Cordelia.”

“I think I know now why he disappeared so suddenly. It was when he learned that my aunt was selling up the Manor. He then went to Lydia and now Fiona. Is there any reason why there should be this attack on Eugenie?”

“I can think of one,” said Jason. “Fiona inherits the entire fortune which was left to the girls if her sister dies.”

“So Elsa is trying to dispose of Eugenie. How diabolical!”

“It will be Fiona’s turn next.”

“The man is a mass murderer!” said Daisy turning pale.

“I believe that is what is emerging,” I said. “His accomplice works at fashionable schools where wealthy young ladies will be. She selects the most desirable, tells them of legends and gets them to a spot where the man can emerge, sets out to charm and decide who shall be his next victim. Lydia had a small fortune. She died on the ski slopes. Do you realize he is teaching Fiona to ski?”

“My God!” said Jason. “We’ve got to find her.”

“How?” I asked. And we were all silent.

“He told me that he lived in a place in Suffolk,” I said. “I went to the place. He had told me his name was Edward Compton but the Comptons had been dead for twenty years. I imagine that he gave a name at random, but the fact that he chose that name and place shows he must have had a connection with it at some time. I think we ought to find out more about that family. In the meantime what are we going to do?”

“We’ve got to find Fiona,” repeated Jason.

“You went looking for her without success. There is one thing that occurs to me. Fiona appears to be safe while Eugenie lives. He wants the whole of the fortune…not merely half. That is Fiona’s safeguard.”

“I think Eugenie should be taken away,” said Daisy.

“I agree,” I said. “Elsa…if it is Elsa…has tried to poison her. I can see it now. She was trying to do it gradually so that when the final dose was administered it would appear that Eugenie had had a more virulent attack than those from which she had been suffering. Perhaps the dose taken by Charlotte was meant to be the final one. Charlotte has been very ill and it may well be that Eugenie, weakened as she was, would have succumbed.”

“It would be incredible if there was not so much evidence to make it plausible,” said Jason. “We’ve got to act promptly.”

“I wish I knew how,” I said.

“Let’s think. Let’s try to see all the implications. That man has Fiona. He has married her. We don’t know in what name. We don’t know where he is.”

“He was Mark Chessingham for Lydia Markham.”

“He wouldn’t use the same name again.”

“No. Eugenie says he was Carl Someone. She had never heard his surname.”

“What are we going to do, go raging round Europe again looking for a man named Carl with a wife named Fiona? Not very helpful, I’m afraid. I think we have to go to the police. This man has to be found quickly.”

“There is something that has occurred to me,” I said.

They looked at me expectantly. “Yes,” I said slowly, “Mrs. Baddicombe has her uses. I thought she was a silly old scandal-monger but I’m feeling quite fond of her just now. Elsa writes letters to someone abroad…She writes fairly regularly. He isn’t always in the same place because Elsa has to ask Mrs. Baddicombe the price of stamps, so our postmistress knows that she has been writing to Switzerland, France, Germany and Austria. She also knows the gender of the recipient of these letters. A man. Now if Elsa is writing letters to her accomplice, and I assume that that is who it is, it must be very likely that he is writing back to her.”

“I see,” said Daisy, looking at me with approval.

“If we could get hold of one of those letters it will tell us something.”

“It should be fairly easy to do that,” said Daisy. “As you know one of the men from the stables goes and collects the mail every day because it’s too far for the postman to come right out here. He usually leaves it with one of the maids. I can give instructions that he brings it straight to me.”

“I daresay Elsa is on the lookout for the return of the man with the post.”

“That can easily be dealt with,” said Daisy. “I will vary the man’s time of calling so that she suspects nothing. What do you think?” She was looking at Jason.

He said: “Yes, do that. But we can’t wait for posts. I shall go to London today and in the meantime I think Eugenie should come to the Hall.”

“We should have to have a good excuse for her doing so and a plausible tale to give the girls,” said Daisy.

“We could say that you have special guests you want her to meet and that she is breaking up a week or so before the rest of the school,” I added.

“We’ll manage something,” said Daisy. “What about Charlotte? I’m a little uneasy about her.”

“Let her be moved to the Hall. She is fit to travel now and she can keep Eugenie company. I think we shall have to explain to the girls…I mean Charlotte and Eugenie.”

Daisy looked at me. “You know them well.”

“I am not sure of that. But in Eugenie’s present mood I think I might be able to talk to her. As for Charlotte, she is too weak to argue. We could say we are taking them for a drive, get them to the Hall, and tell them they are to stay there.”

“I’ll leave that to you, Cordelia,” said Daisy, dismissing the matter with that air of breezy finality which she used when assigning difficult tasks to her employees.

“Bring her over this morning then,” said Jason. “I’m going to make arrangements to go to London to put something in motion. There is so little to go on.”

“I pin my faith on a letter,” I said. “I think there must be a fairly frequent correspondence.”

I went up to my room. Charlotte was sitting in a chair looking pale and listless. I asked how she was and she said she was feeling tired of being in her room all day.

“Would you like to go for a drive?” I asked.

She brightened and said she would.

“Then I’ll get Eugenie to come along with us.”

So far so good. I felt a great deal better now I was taking some action.

Eugenie was delighted to miss lessons and take a ride with Charlotte.

“Where are we going?” asked Eugenie.

“We’re going to the Hall.”

“To see Uncle Jason?”

“I don’t know whether he’s there.”

“He was yesterday,” said Eugenie.

“We’ll see,” I replied.

When we arrived at the Hall I went in with the two girls. Charlotte was clearly exhausted and I asked one of the servants to take us to a room which had been prepared for her.

“Am I going to lie down?” she asked.

“You feel like it, don’t you?”

“Just for a little while.”

“You can lie down and Eugenie and I will sit with you. I want to tell you both something.”

When she was lying down, I opened the connecting door between that and the next room which was also a bedroom.

I said: “Now I want you to listen to me carefully. You’re going to stay here for a while.”

“Stay here?” cried Eugenie. “What about school?”

“Well, you have both been very ill…mysteriously ill. We thought it would be better if you stayed here until break-up. Then I don’t know what Charlotte’s plans are but you’d be coming here in any case, Eugenie.”

“What will Miss Hetherington say?”

“She knows. In fact it is her idea and mine and your uncle’s. We want you to stay here because there may be something at school which is not good for you.”

They were silent, looking at each other, and I could see that neither of them was displeased to have the term cut short.

“I know what it is,” said Eugenie. “It’s drains.”

“Drains?”

“Yes, they make you ill sometimes. I was ill and so was Charlotte and they think we ought to get away. It’s something in our room, I expect. Below the window.”

I thought that was an easy way out as I did not want to tell them that we feared an attempt was being made on Eugenie’s life.

“Well, you’ll have a good time here together, and, Eugenie, you’ll look after Charlotte won’t you? You’ll find plenty to do.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

“What about
Romeo
and
Julie
t
?” asked Charlotte.

“Alas poor Romeo,” said Eugenie. “You were quite good, Charlotte. I could never get my lines right. Who’ll take our places?”

“I think it is being eliminated,” I said. “They’ll just have to do with
The
Merchant
of
Venice
.”

Charlotte looked regretful.

“You wouldn’t be well enough,” I said. “Think how you would have hated to see someone else do it.”

Realizing that, Charlotte could accept the decision. If Romeo was not Charlotte Mackay, then no one else should be.

I said: “I shall go back now. Your uncle will be here in a day or so, I believe, Eugenie.”

I left them and went back to school. When I told Daisy what had happened she was at first outraged by any question of the drains at her school being imperfect; but she soon recovered from that and realized that it was better than telling them the truth.

She said: “I feel very uneasy about that girl Elsa.”

“Yes, but I think it is imperative that she does not know we suspect anything. She need not find out for some little time that Eugenie and Charlotte have gone.”

“And when she does?”

“I think she may begin to wonder. We must be very watchful of her.”

“I should like to put her in custody right away.”

“On what evidence? It is mostly supposition. We must have proof. Let us hope we get that soon. In the meantime let us keep watch on Elsa.”

By the next day the girls were talking about the departure of Eugenie and Charlotte. I had explained that Charlotte needed recuperation and that Eugenie, who was her greatest friend, was with her. Elsa would quickly learn that, and I wondered what she would make of it. She might not be suspicious. On the other hand she would not be able to carry out her plan of murder…if we were right in supposing that was what she was doing.

Jason returned from London in two days. He had little hope of Fiona and her husband’s being found. It had been pointed out to him that they could be anywhere in Europe and that all the information we had was that he called himself Carl and his wife was Fiona.

I waylaid Elsa and tried to discover what she was thinking. She betrayed nothing and I could not help wondering whether I was mistaken about her. She had been at Schaffenbrucken and she was here. But certainly she would never have come to Colby if she had known I was here. She had told the story of meeting a man in the woods. Was it possible that that could be a coincidence? Oh no…it was too neat. She was involved. I was sure of that.

I asked if she was looking forward to going home at Christmas.

“Oh yes, to my sister’s place. It’s a long way from here. Up north.”

“Oh, where?”

“Newcastle.”

“That
is
a long way.”

“Yes, but she’s my only sister. Families have to stick together, don’t they? I’m lucky to have somewhere to go. You want to be with your family at Christmas time, don’t you? Teresa tells me she is going with you.”

“Oh yes…”

“I hope Miss Charlotte’s getting on all right.”

“I believe so.”

“Poor girl. She was bad. And Miss Eugenie’s with her. I’m glad of that. Thick as thieves, those two.”

She went on flicking her duster in the aimless way she had. It was difficult to suspect her.

It was the beginning of the Christmas week and we were breaking up on Wednesday. Rehearsals were over and the great day had come. It was just to be
The Merchant of Venice
which, Eileen said, was a blessing. Nobody seemed to think it was very strange that Charlotte had gone off to convalesce and that Eugenie had gone with her, and Eileen was delighted to be relieved of
Romeo and Juliet
.

Daisy sent for me and when I went to her study she was holding a letter in her hand. It was addressed to Miss Elsa Kracken and the postmark was Austria.

“I think,” she said, “that this may be what we have been waiting for. I haven’t opened it. I think we should be careful about that as it may well be necessary for her to have it and in that case she must not know that we have seen it. I therefore intend to steam it open very carefully and then if necessary we can reseal it.”

We sat down side by side and read the letter:

“Dear Sister,

“What disaster! But you must not blame yourself. These things will happen, and I have told you many times that if we do our best and things go wrong we are not to be blamed. But it was most unfortunate and I am a little alarmed. I sensed danger as soon as I learned that woman was there. Perhaps you should have left after we completed the first part of the plan. If you had we should have finished the project by now. That is what we are going to do. Give your notice at once and tell them that you will not be returning after Christmas. Say it is for family reasons. Make it all very natural. You understand that.

“I know when to say Enough. We will be content with what we have. Our little bird is well endowed and we will accept half because to attempt the rest is clearly dangerous. I shall settle this project once and for all. Perhaps it shall be the last and we shall buy our little mansion somewhere…anywhere. It will be a mansion as grand as Compton just like we used to dream about. But we shall be masters of it. It will not be for us as it was for our father. We shall not be the slaves of the rich. They shall be ours…