The adulteress (31 page)

I knelt down and touched it. It was firmly entrenched and it looked as though it had been put there not so very long ago because the grass had not grown round it.

How strange. I wondered who had put it there.

I stood there puzzled. Had it been there when Gerard and I had met here? It could hardly have been. Of course the grass could have hidden it. But there was very little grass growing just at that spot.

It was almost as though it marked a grave.

I stood up. I was beginning to feel very uneasy, and I had a great desire to get away. I felt I was walking rather blindly into something of which I was beginning to get a glimmer of understanding. I had a great desire to get away from this place.

I walked across the stretch of grass and stepped over the palings. I listened. I fancied that I heard a movement somewhere. It was just that uncanny feeling that I was being watched.

I started to run. It was not very far to Eversleigh, about fifteen minutes walk perhaps, but I always took the shortcut through the wood. It was scarcely a wood. Just a little stretch where the trees grew close together.

I made for it and as I entered wondered if I should have gone round by the road. It was foolish. The sight of that crucifix had unnerved me. I knew there was some meaning behind it.

Suddenly the realization came to me. I had been observed. I was now being followed. For what reason? I felt the goosepim-ples rising on my skin. This was real fear. I heard a footstep behind me and started to run.

I was thankful that the trees were thinning and I would soon be in the open. I ran as fast as I could and when I had put some distance between myself and the last of the trees, I turned.

A man was emerging from the wood. This was my pursuer. Dickon!

He sauntered up to me.

"Hello, Zipporah," he said.

I said breathlessly: "You've just come through the wood."

He nodded, smiling at me, and I fancied there was an odd flicker in his eyes.

"Did you see anyone in there?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

I stammered: "I wondered. . . . People don't often use that stretch of wood."

"There might have been someone," he said. "Are you going back to the house?"

I said I was.

"I'll walk with you." He fell in by my side. I was very much aware of him and I was still trembling a little from my scare. I refrained from mentioning my feelings to him. I thought: He was my pursuer. Why was he frightening me? Was it just his mischief?

Then I noticed there was something different about the swing of his coat. Dickon was fast becoming a man of fashion and perhaps this was why I noticed that his coat bulged a little. He was carrying something in an inner pocket.

A sudden gust of wind made his coat swing open, and because I was really wondering what he carried I happened to glance down at that moment.

It was a pistol.

I was really shaken. What was he doing with a pistol? And why did he not call to me in the wood? He must have been aware that I was running away. Yet he had emerged casually sauntering as though there was nothing unusual about chasing people in woods. I had noticed lately a change in him. There was a hard glitter in his eyes which might have indicated a certain pleasure, as though he were engaged in some activity which intrigued him. I had put this down to his renewed acquaintance with Evalina and perhaps involvements with some of the Eversleigh serving girls who might seem more attractive than those at Clavering. They would be different and I imagined Dickon would like variety in his seductions.

But I was unsure of him now. Amorous encounters were second nature to him. I had a fancy that he was involved in something other than those.

Why should he be carrying a pistol? To shoot. . . . what? Rabbits? Birds? For what purpose except the lust to kill? He

had no need of food. That was plentifully supplied by Jessie, and he was a man whose sports would be conducted indoors rather than out.

Where did he get the pistol? There was a gun room at Eversleigh, of course.

So disturbed was I that I went to find it. I was not quite sure where it was. Nobody had pointed it out to me but I had some idea.

I found it. It was a small room but there were guns of all sorts there. It was impossible for me to see if any were missing. But of course it was from this room that he would have taken the pistol. Or he might have brought it with him in case he needed it on the journey.

Perhaps then there was nothing unusual about his having a pistol in his possession. Perhaps I was trying to make something out of nothing. Quite clearly I was getting a little overwrought and should go back to Clavering.

When I was in my room there was a knock on the door and when I called "Come in" Jessie entered.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, Mistress Ransome," she said, "but I have a message for you from Amos Carew. He says he'd be obliged if you would call on him tomorrow afternoon. He'll be at the house between three and four and if that's not convenient to you would you please name another time."

"I can certainly see him tomorrow," I said.

"That's settled then," she smiled.

I said: "I hope you're feeling better now, and have got over that little scare."

"I don't know what got into me. It must have been a trick of the light . . . and that kitchen girl having said she saw something put it into my head. Well, I'm downright ashamed. I am that. It's not like me, I can tell you."

"We're all surprised in ourselves sometimes," I said.

She nodded. "I'll get a message over to Amos," she told me.

That night I was disturbed again. There was someone in the house who made nocturnal visits. I was wakened again and saw that it was two o'clock—the same time as before.

First the awareness that someone was below and then the creak of a door and the sound of stealthy footsteps.

It was either Dickon or Amos, I told myself. Their amorous

adventures were really no concern of mine. I turned over and went to sleep.

The following afternoon I walked to Amos Carew's house. It was the first time I had called there but I knew exactly where it was as Jethro had pointed it out to me very shortly after I had arrived on my first visit.

It was a pleasant house with a lawn in front and a porch in which pots of flowers were growing.

Before I had time to knock Amos Carew opened the door.

He took me into a sitting room which was comfortably furnished, though not large, and bade me be seated.

He said: "It was good of you to come, Mistress Ransome."

"Not at all. I have been wondering what it is you want to see me about."

He looked at me in rather an embarrassed fashion and said: "It's not easy to explain."

"I am sure that you will, though," I said.

"It's . . . er . . . things at the Court."

"Oh yes?"

"They can't go on the way they are. I mean his lordship is growing weaker ... in spite of what the doctor says."

"He seems to me to be in a very weak condition."

"Well, what bothers me ... is what is to happen if he was to go. I'm sorry to seem . . . hard like . . . but I was thinking of my position here. It bothers me a bit. A man has to think of his future."

"I understand that."

"Well, when his lordship goes this passes to you."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"Oh, his lordship has explained it to Jessie. There was not much he kept from her . . . when he was well enough, that was. ... I daresay she wonders too. It could be hard on her . . . and on me."

"I understand. But I really think it is a matter which will have to be decided later. You see, it may be that my uncle has changed his mind. I don't think we can make arrangements about something which has not come to pass."

"Jessie says that he has left it all to you, and she would know. It was just that I had it in mind that if I could put a word in for myself to you . . ."

"If it happens as you say I am sure my husband and I would

not want to turn good people away. I can't make promises about something which is not mine. One never knows what will happen."

He nodded gravely.

"I want to show you how well I keep the place . . . inside and out. I've done wonders with my bit of garden at the back. I even supply vegetables to the Court. ... I was hoping you'd take a look at it."

"I am absolutely sure that everything is in perfect order."

"But you will look at it, won't you?"

I said I would.

"Then I'll show you the garden."

We went through a passage to the garden and he led me out toward some fruit trees. I was struck by the quietness of all about me.

I said: "You appear to be very isolated here in spite of the fact that you are not far from the Court."

He didn't answer. There was a strange look in his eyes. The thought suddenly struck me that he had brought me here for a purpose other than to speak of his future, and an unaccountable cold fear took possession of me. This was the man who was Jessie's lover, who had calculatedly brought her here to become Uncle Carl's mistress, to fleece him of what she could. They must have planned it together. They were unscrupulous people. I had a great desire to say a hasty good-bye to him and go back to the Court as fast as I could and when I was there pack my bags and go home to Jean-Louis, to Lottie, to my mother and Sabrina.

He said: "Come and look at the trees. I'm going to get some good fruit there this year."

His voice sounded different . . . strained in some way.

I hesitated. Something told me to get away.

And then suddenly I heard a noise. Someone was knocking on the door. Then I heard a familiar voice. Dickon's! And he was coming toward us.

"I did knock. But the door was open. Oh . . . hello, Zip-porah. Amos, I came over to talk to you."

"I'm busy," said Amos.

"Oh, all right. I'll wait. Looking at the garden, are you? He's very proud of his garden, Zipporah."

I noticed the bulge in his coat. So he was still carrying the pistol.

"I wanted to ask Amos a few questions about the tenants," he said.

"Then I will leave you two to talk," I answered.

Dickon almost leered at me. "I'm not driving you away, I hope."

"No, no," I assured him. "I was on the point of leaving."

Amos looked resigned and I wasn't sure whether he was angry or relieved. I could imagine that Dickon might be becoming a nuisance to him.

As I walked back to the Court I thought how often Dickon seemed to be where I was. I could almost believe he was following me. However, on this occasion I had been quite pleased to see him. I was really quite alarmed in that garden alone with Amos Carew. There seemed to be no logical reason why I should have been. I think the fact was that the situation here was beginning to upset me more than I had believed possible.

I really wanted to get away . . . back to normality. There was nothing else I could do here.

When I came into the hall Jessie was there. She started when she saw me and turned a shade paler.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Yes. . . . Did you see Amos?"

"Yes, I saw him."

"And . . . was everything all right?"

I raised my eyebrows. It was not the first time I had resented her interrogations and felt an irresistible urge to remind her of her position.

"We had our talk," I said and walked past her.

I could feel her staring after me.

I went to my room thinking about Amos Carew. It was natural that he should be worried about his position, for it was quite clear that Uncle Carl could not live much longer in the state he was in. I think I had allowed myself to grow too fanciful. I was as bad as Jessie with her ghost.

I had one or two sewing-jobs to do. I could have given them to one of the maids but preferred to do them myself. There was a tear in my skirt where I had caught it on a bramble— not much but it should be done at once—and a button was half off my dressing gown and the stitches in a petticoat had come undone. I would do them this afternoon. I had no sewing

material and I knew that the maids went to Jessie's room to get them.

I knocked at the door. There was no answer so I went in. My eyes went at once to that blank space on the wall. That was where the crucifix had hung. It was no longer there. Of course it wasn't. It was in the haunted patch and Jessie was the one who had put it there.

I forgot all about the sewing materials and went back to my room.

What did this mean? I asked myself. Why should she have taken the crucifix from her wall to put it in the wasteland?

It meant that there was a grave there in the wasteland. Whose? Wild thoughts chased each other through my brain. A possibility had occurred to me.

I had to find the answer.

One thing was becoming certain: I was in the midst of intrigue and what was shown to me was not the true state of affairs.

I wished there was someone whose help I could ask. I wished the Forsters were there, or that calm practical-looking doctor. Could I go to him? No! The people to whom I should go were Rosen, Stead and Rosen. Mr. Rosen already knew of the rather unconventional menage at Eversleigh Court.

What could I say? The housekeeper has put her crucifix in the wasteland . . . ?

I would have to have more tangible evidence than that.

I must think about this clearly, reason it out. I must know the best thing to do. I went over everything that had happened. The strangeness of the atmosphere in this house. But I had felt that on my very first visit.

It would soon be suppertime and I must face them all; after that there would be my visit to the sick room. I must be watchful. I must not be so easily gullible. I must realize that I was here with scheming, unscrupulous people. And what part was Dickon playing in all this? He was devious and I was an enemy. I really must discover all I could and then go to Mr. Rosen.

I suppose I had been right about the crucifix. That might be some sort of clue. We would go to the wasteland and we would dig up and discover why Jessie behaved as though a grave was there.

I had been right about the crucifix, hadn't I? I hadn't imagined it.

That was absurd. I had seen clearly that space on the wall with the nail protruding where the crucifix had hung, but I had to make sure. I had to look again. I was going to creep along to Jessie's room when she was not there, open the door and take a quick look.

Opportunity came about half an hour before supper. It was safe then because Jessie was always in the kitchen at that time supervising the meal. That was something which was too important to be left entirely to others.

I was ready. I heard her go downstairs and slipped up to her room. Quickly, silently I opened the door.

I stared. The crucifix was in its place on the wall.

I could not believe it. I was sure earlier that day it had not been there.

Could I trust myself? Was my imagination betraying me?

I felt very alarmed.

Tomorrow, I promised myself, I will go to the wasteland. If the crucifix is there then it was not Jessie's and I must have imagined I saw that blank wall. How could I? I was a practical woman of common sense, or so I had always believed.

What was happening to me in this strange place? Why did I fear I was being followed in the woods? Why did I see something sinister in Dickon because he happened to be where I was a great deal lately? Why should I feel this increasing menace just because he carried a pistol with him?

It was night—restless, uneasy night. I had got through the evening tolerably well. Although Dr. Cabel did say at supper: "You are very thoughtful this evening, Mistress Ransome."

I said I was feeling a little tired and would retire early.

I had not seen Uncle Carl that evening. Dr. Cabel had said he was no worse but just very very tired and he was sleeping deeply so it was not wise to waken him even to see me.

"It must be something in the air," he said. "You are both tired today. It's the weather. It can have that effect."

I had made my excuse to retire early and I did so.

But not to sleep. I had made up my mind that the next day I was going to see Mr. Rosen. There was one thing I wanted to do first and that was ascertain that the crucifix was no longer on the wasteland. Whether it was or not I should go straightaway to Mr. Rosen.

I would ask what I should do before going home, for I was determined to go home soon.

I was still wide awake at half past one when I heard movements similar to those which I had heard before. I got out of bed and went to the window and waited. It was not long before a figure emerged from the house. It was a man in a long cloak who was certainly not Amos or Dickon. Then who?

I watched him walk across the lawn. Then an idea came to me. I put on my dressing gown and opening my door stood for a second or so listening. Then I went down the short staircase to the corridor in which was Uncle Carl's room.

I sped along to it. I turned the handle and went in. There was enough moonlight to show me the furniture, the four-poster bed . . . with the curtains half drawn as they always had been.

I went to the bed. I think I had half expected what I saw. The bed was empty.

Events suddenly slipped into place like a jigsaw puzzle.

My earlier suspicions were proved to be founded in truth. The man in the bed had not been my uncle.

I looked round the room. I opened one of the cupboards. Clothes were hanging there. There was a shelf on which were various pots and pads and brushes . . . such as I imagined were used by actors.

Actors! They had been playing a drama . . . comedy ... a farce . . . whatever, it was for my benefit.

They were actors ... all of them . . . the doctor, the man in the bed . . . and Jessie knew it. She was one of them.

I had the proof I needed now. I could go along to Mr. Rosen tomorrow with the evidence I had gathered.

In another cupboard were playing cards. I smiled grimly. That was how they whiled away the time when they were not coaching this man for the part of Lord Eversleigh, while they were waiting for the moment when they would play their little scene for me.

They were ingenious people and they would be desperate. They must not know that I had uncovered their little plot before I had seen Mr. Rosen.

Shortly the bogus Lord Eversleigh would be returning. I imagined he took exercise at night for clearly he could not go out during the day.

I was aware that if anyone found me here I should be in acute danger. If they were bold enough to work out such a devious plan how far would they carry it?

In sudden panic I went swiftly to the door. I looked out into the corridor. All was quiet.

I crossed the corridor to the window and because of the heavy curtains I believed I could conceal myself there.

I went over and tried it. Yes, I could satisfy myself that no part of me was visible. I would now await the return of the actor who had played Uncle Carl in the piece.

I was cold and cramped through having to conceal myself, but I was rewarded.

Soon after two o'clock there was the familiar creak of the door followed by the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs.