Secrets of the Highwayman (18 page)

Eddie was wound up, and in his enthusiasm for his pet subject he forgot to avoid Melanie. His eyes clashed with hers, and for a moment he didn’t seem to know where he was. He shook his head like a bear waking from hibernation and cleared his throat, fixing his gaze on Nathaniel.

“Remember, Pengorren was a monster. He must have decided that Nathaniel wasn’t worth the effort anymore. Anyway, by then he had what he wanted. He’d taken everything that belonged to Nathaniel, and now it only remained for him to get rid of the heir. So he had him shot.”

You don’t know the half of it,
Melanie thought, feeling for Nathaniel.

“
The Raven’s Curse
asserts Nathaniel was shot by Sir Arthur Tregilly’s coachman,” Nathaniel said without much passion. “Don’t you agree with Trewartha?”

“Well, I know that’s what Trewartha says,” Eddie agreed, looking smug, “but I’ve managed to find some of the contemporaneous statements made by the witnesses at the scene. They were in the archives at Truro, mixed in with some other file, almost as if someone didn’t want them to be found,” he added darkly. “Didn’t stop me, though. I’ve read the statement from Tregilly’s coachman, and he denies he ever shot the Raven. He says he fired his gun when they were first held up, but only into the air. He knew it was Nathaniel, everyone did, and they didn’t want to shoot him dead and face Pengorren
afterward. He goes on to say that when the Raven fell, he was facing the coach, and the shot came out of the woods at his back. He died at the scene, and he couldn’t speak at all, so there was no way he could have delivered any last-minute curses. It’s all rot.”

Nathaniel sat very still. “So you believe it was Pengorren alone who killed Nathaniel?”

“Definitely.

Melanie moved closer to his chair and rested a hand on the back of it, trying to offer what comfort she could by her presence without doing what she really wanted to do—curl up on his knee and give him a hug.

“It works, doesn’t it? You can see what I’m getting at.” Eddie was almost bouncing up and down he was so excited to be finally discussing his theory. “I think someone set him up. I think that when the robbery took place someone else knew what was about to happen and had already taken up position in the woods. I’ve read a couple of Sir Arthur Tregilly’s diaries, and he claimed he knew the truth. Unfortunately, he pegged out before he could do more than hint at it.”

He was serious, and he’d done his research. Melanie had to admire him for it. “So you believe it was a planned execution?” Her fingers crept over the back of the chair and touched Nathaniel’s hair.

“Yes. Pengorren had a pretty good life afterward, didn’t he? Did well for himself for a nobody from nowhere.”

Abruptly Nathaniel got to his feet and tossed the manuscript onto his chair. His eyes met Melanie’s and,
despite the tension of the moment and the pallor of Nathaniel’s face, she felt the attraction between them like yesterday’s storm. Building. Images of naked flesh flashed through her mind, and she bit her lip. His gaze zeroed in on her mouth, and his eyes went dark.

He must have realized the inappropriateness of it, too, because he shook his head. But he managed a reassuring half smile before he turned to Eddie. His voice was measured and calm, although Melanie could hear the depth of emotion behind it. Nathaniel Raven was speaking from the heart.

“I think the Raven was confused. He’d been to war, he’d been wounded, then his father had died in an accident and his mother was planning to marry someone she hardly knew. He wasn’t thinking clearly; he’d never had to be the man of the house before. Of course he acted impulsively. Of course he should have waited Pengorren out, played him at his own game. But remember, Nathaniel was an impulsive character, not used to waiting for the right moment or thinking too deeply. He went with his instincts.”

Eddie pursed his lips. “Yeah, I can see what you mean. The Raven is a hero around here, or an antihero, anyway. I could write him as a tragic hero, a straight character who didn’t work out the sort of creep Pengorren was until it was too late. Yes, I like it.”

“Lovely,” Melanie muttered under her breath.

“What about Sophie?” Nathaniel asked abruptly. “What happened to Pengorren’s second wife?”

“Madhouse,” Eddie said, with a grimace. “Went
totally bonkers after her son was born. They locked her up, and she died in there a few years later. By that time Pengorren had filled the house with his women and was more or less living the life of a sheik with his harem. And yet he was still respected, still liked, and still the magistrate for the district!”

“Everyone was blinded by Pengorren? You must admit, Edward, Pengorren had an amazing ability to persuade people to believe in him and to love him.”

“Glamour,” Eddie said.

“Glamour?”
Nathaniel repeated, and frowned. He glanced at Melanie, but she shrugged, as confused as him. “Explain yourself, Edward.”

“Glamour is the magical quality that faeries are supposed to possess. They wrap it around themselves like a cloak, and us normal human beings can’t see through it. Instead, we only see what the faery wants us to see. In Pengorren’s case, that would be a handsome and friendly man who is honorable and generous. A man everybody loves and admires. A man the women can’t resist. That’s your glamour in action.”

“But Eddie,” Melanie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You can’t be suggesting that Pengorren was a…a…”

“I’m not. I’m just pointing out the comparison. Many psychopaths have charisma, glamour. They attract people to them and then—”

Downstairs a door banged. “Melanie!?” a voice drifted upward.

Melanie felt her mouth fall open and closed it.

“Melanie!” the voice was louder this time. Quick, light footsteps started on the stairs. “Melanie, where on earth are you…? Oh!”

The voice had reached the door.

Melanie turned and said, with as much sangfroid as she could manage, “Hello Suzie. You made good time.”

Suzie was thin and fair-haired, older than
Melanie by about five years, but they were very similar in looks. Or they had been, Nathaniel supposed, until Melanie began to change…

Glamour.

He tried the word out. It made sense considering Pengorren’s behavior and the way people responded to him. Eddie didn’t know the full story, so he wouldn’t realize that something like a magic spell was entirely possible when it came to Major Pengorren.

“I know, I know.” Suzie gave Melanie a crooked but very attractive smile. “I shouldn’t have come, and you’re cross with me, but I was worried about you. After your phone call, I…I remembered something. I don’t know why I didn’t remember it before, but anyway I thought it was better to come down here and tell you face-to-face.”

“You mean you were nosy and wanted to see where I was and what I was up to,” Melanie retorted, but there
was no animosity in her voice, just affection and a hint of weary relief. They were close then. Nathaniel remembered Sophie with an aching heart.

“That, too,” Suzie admitted. She noticed Eddie, and tilted her head to one side as if she wasn’t quite sure what she was dealing with. “Who’s this then?”

“Eddie,” Eddie introduced himself, holding out his hand. “I’m the caretaker.”

Suzie took his hand, inspecting his bright shirt with the native girls in grass skirts dancing all over it, and then lifting her clever gaze to his good-natured face. Her smile said she liked what she saw. “Hello, Eddie,” she said.

“And this is Nathaniel,” Melanie went on, sounding stilted, as if this was an awkward situation for her. “Nathaniel, this is my sister, Suzie.”

She felt very nervous, which was ridiculous. In the circumstances it shouldn’t matter to her whether or not Suzie approved of Nathaniel or hated him on sight. It never had before. But this time it did.

Nathaniel gave her a smile, just a brief softening of his mouth and eyes. It’s all right, that smile seemed to say. I understand.

She watched as he walked over to Suzie. He moved so gracefully, so beautifully, and—from the wondering expression on Suzie’s face—he must have been wearing his most charming smile. Melanie was tempted to tell her sister that she could look, but she couldn’t touch.

He’s mine.

The thought was comforting and frightening at the same time.

“How do you do?” Nathaniel had taken Suzie’s hand, holding it between both of his as he smiled down at her.

“Oh. Good,” Suzie managed, with a glazed look in her blue eyes.

“Gets all the birds, does he? Not fair, is it?” Melanie jumped, as Eddie muttered in her ear. She didn’t hear him sidle up to her

“You’re not so bad yourself, Eddie,” she retorted quietly. “And just so you know, Suzie likes a man who can make her laugh.”

He gave her a doubtful look, as if he thought she might be having a go at him. But it was true, Suzie loved a joke, and Eddie’s was the sort of easygoing, friendly personality she enjoyed in a man. The brooding, handsome ones always broke her heart.

Nathaniel let go of Suzie’s hand, but she was still smiling up at him dreamily. Melanie decided it was time to ask some questions.

“Suzie, you said you had something to tell me?”

Suzie blinked, and then she was across the room in a gust of vanilla perfume. Her arms were thin, but they were strong, and she held Melanie tightly. Melanie closed her eyes, and for a moment she was safe, a child again, who believed Suzie could save her from all the monsters under the bed.

As they separated Suzie, held her away and frowned at her. “What have you done to yourself?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s something up,” Suzie insisted, “and I want to know what it is. What’s going on, Melanie?”

Melanie hesitated. “You first.” She led her sister over
to the chair Eddie had just vacated. Suzie flopped down and surveyed the room.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” she said, with a grin that made her look about fourteen years old. There was something familiar about her face and her windblown curls, but Melanie couldn’t place it. And then her smile faded and she pushed up the sleeves of her jade green blouse. “All right, this is the thing. I remembered it after you rang, and it seemed important, too important to wait. Maybe I’m wrong, and if I am, then you can put me back in my Bug and send me home. But, Melanie, just hear me out first. Okay?”

Melanie realized that Nathaniel had come to stand beside her. His shoulder brushed against hers and fireworks went off in her head. She stepped away, concentrating on Suzie. “Okay. Tell me.”

“Um”—Suzie looked at the two men—“are you sure? Do you want them to hear? Not that it’s anything I wouldn’t say in company.”

“Just say it.”

“Well, it was that name—Pengorren. It set off bells in my head. I knew I’d heard it before somewhere, and then I remembered. It was our mom. She used to talk about the wealthy Pengorren family down in Cornwall, with their great big house and their servants. When they lost everything, Mom and Dad, she used to say she’d go and see them and beg for her share. Dad scoffed at her, of course, said she was out of her head. “They won’t give you anything,” he used to say, “not when you’re just some byblow from way back.” You see, that was the thing. Mom said she was related to the Pengorrens, that
we came from a bastard child born to a servant girl and the master. Happened a lot in the old days. No sexual harassment laws back then.”

Melanie felt the room begin to rock under her feet.

Eddie snorted a laugh, then look embarrassed when the other two turned to him. “Sorry. I wasn’t laughing at…It’s just that there seem to be a lot of us Pengorren byblows about.”

“What, you as well, Eddie?” Suzie asked, eyes shining. “Maybe we should form a Pengorren’s Bastards Club—”

“I don’t see what there is to be proud of,” Melanie burst out, and swallowed. She felt sick. She put her hand over her mouth.

Suzie was on her feet. “Sis?”

“You’re saying,” Melanie went on, “that we’re blood relatives of Pengorren? Is that what you’re telling me?”

She was Pengorren’s
blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh.

This was it. This was the answer to the puzzle that the queen of the between-worlds had set them. She could help Nathaniel destroy Pengorren because she was intimately connected to him.

“Oh God…”

Her gaze found Nathaniel’s, and she read the shock in his eyes, but she couldn’t speak her thoughts aloud. She didn’t want to give them that power.

“Melanie?” Suzie was talking to her.

And then Nathaniel’s arms came around her. He was holding her, and Melanie could feel herself trembling, the shudders running through her, her legs shaking and
weak, as the sexual attraction fought with her feelings of horror. And through it all, Nathaniel was holding her up.

Pengorren was in her head. Pengorren, grinning up at her, saying
Melanie.
Pengorren, who could make people love him despite his cruel and criminal behavior, just by looking into their eyes.
Glamour.
Pengorren, traveling through time, using her to…to what? Make himself young again?
Live again?

“I see it now,” Melanie whispered into Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Coming here…I started it all up. This is my fault.”

“No,” he murmured against her hair, rocking her. “No, Melanie. It was meant to happen. You didn’t start it up, you’re here to put an end to it.”

“Melanie, please!” Suzie’s shrill voice broke through their private conversation. “What’s the matter? Will someone tell me what’s going on here?”

Melanie pulled away from Nathaniel, trembling, out of control. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice rising. “Suzie, you have to go. It’s not safe for you here.”

Suzie had Pengorren’s blood, too. It explained her fascination with ancient sites and dancing in the freezing cold of midwinter solstice. She was part of that world, the world of magic and glamour and immortality. More so than Melanie had ever been or wanted to be.

Until now.

“If I leave, then you’re coming with me,” Suzie retorted, frightened but standing solid. “I’m not going
anywhere without you. Now, come on, Melanie, tell me what this is about? You’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared,” Melanie whispered. “My God, Suzie, you should be bloody scared!”

“Melanie—”

But Melanie turned and fled the room.

She ran toward her bedroom with the thought of locking herself in, like a child safe in the womb, where nothing bad could get at her. But the bad things were in her head, and she knew as she reached her door that she’d never escape them by running. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear the sounds at first. When she did her steps slowed until they stopped altogether, and she realized she was holding her breath. Listening.

Soft sighs and moans, rhythmic creaks and thuds. Just the same as before. Except that this time Melanie wasn’t dreaming, she was wide-awake.

Pengorren.

Oh no, not again. Not so soon. Her heart began to stutter, and she felt light-headed. She didn’t want to see, she didn’t want to know. But at the same time she was angry, so very angry. Pengorren had hijacked her life, her mundane, ordinary life. She wouldn’t let him frighten her with his tricks, not this time.

Before she could change her mind Melanie reached for her doorknob. Instantly, the sounds grew more intense, the moaning almost constant, as if the walls themselves were saturated with the sounds of the man and
woman making love and were replaying the scene for her benefit all these years later.

“Hew,” a female voice gasped from inside the bedroom. “I love you so, Hew…”

Melanie opened the door and stepped in.

This time Pengorren was more or less fully dressed as he lay on top of the woman. His face was buried in her bosom and her fingers were clutching at his shoulders as she climbed to her peak. Fair curly hair and young; it was Dorrie again.

Pengorren moved upon her steadily, almost mechanically, without passion. There was nothing erotic about the scene, nothing arousing, it was just sweaty and brutal.

Pengorren suddenly reared up, opening his jaws, and then bit Dorrie hard on her breast.

She screamed, twisting, struggling, but he didn’t stop. He bit harder, as if her pain excited him.

“You’ll hurt the babe, Hew,” she moaned, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please, Hew…”

“Stop it,” Melanie whispered, then louder, “Stop it, you evil bastard!”

Pengorren let her go. He lifted his head, and there was a fleck of blood on his lips, but his ruddy and handsome face was calm and purposeful, while his blue eyes gleamed with awareness. He was looking
at
her, and then he grinned.

“This is what you have to look forward to,” he said, as if Dorrie didn’t exist, as if it was only Pengorren and Melanie. “Real power, complete power. Can’t you feel it, Melanie? Growing inside you.”

“No, I don’t want that. I don’t want to be like you. I’m not like you.”

“But you are, my dear.
Flesh of my flesh—
”

“No!” There were an antique jug and basin on the table by the bed, the sort that used to be used for washing before bathrooms were invented. She reached for the jug, so furious she no longer felt in control of her actions, wanting only to strike out and destroy him.

He laughed, and his image flickered, fading.

By the time she’d swung the jug he was all but gone. It bounced harmlessly on the mattress. Pengorren hadn’t even been here. It was just his essence. The real Pengorren was somewhere else altogether.

Tears stung her eyes. She felt no better for her loss of control, she hadn’t gained anything. The worst of it was she’d seen the expression in his eyes, just before he vanished.

Satisfaction.