The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Romance (23 page)

Forty-Five

V
eronica paced up and down in front of the fire. Her thoughts whirled around one painful issue: Rafe was dangerous. He had a split personality, one side caring and warm, the other----violent. Cruel. Perverse. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

And the twins... Little monsters!

She must find a way to leave Belden House without being noticed.

The clock gonged six times. Veronica stepped out onto her balcony in time to see the twins walking, one behind the other, with a long branch balanced between their shoulders, and tied to that branch by its hooves, was the dead deer. Their white clothes were spattered with blood.

They'd been wolves.

It was horrible.

Enough!

With stately, ceremonial strides, the twins disappeared under the rim of her balcony, and entered the house.

  Afraid she would fly apart, her fear of Rafe clashing with her need to get out, Veronica circled her room, then hurried to her door and turned the knob.

It was locked.

She put her ear to the door and listened to the twins coming up the stairs. She imagined them passing her door, blind as automatons, unaware that their father had locked her in. She heard Wolfgang panting along behind them; his tail thumped against her door.

He'd found his pack all right.

A key was turning in the lock. Veronica backed away warily as the door swung open.

The glare of candlelight preceded Mrs. Twig into the room. Flaring candle branch held aloft, she gaze was level, her posture commanding.

“Miss Everly.” A very old looking key dangled from her hand.

Veronica narrowed her eyes at the housekeeper. “Yes?”

“The children are changing their clothes. When they are finished, I want you to come with us to the safe rooms upstairs.”

“The room with no windows.”

“Yes.”

Veronica backed away. "I'll not be locked in. Not up there."

"You won't be. It's Jack who must go in. I need your help tonight." Mrs. Twig gave her a look the suggested the reason should be understood without saying.

“But I can’t, Mrs. Twig. Mr. Rafe expressly forbids me to leave my rooms.”

Mrs. Twig scowled. “He must have been in a tizzy. He knows we need your help tonight.” She went around the corner to Jacqueline's closed door and called. “Jack, are you ready yet?”

A muffled shout of
almost
came back. Scowling, Mrs. Twig returned to Veronica.

“What do you need me for, Mrs. Twig?"

"To see to the children."

"To see to what? Why?"

Mrs. Twig's breath stuttered. She looked down as if her stomach were upset.

Veronica pressed on. She was tired of her questions being evaded. "First you must tell me something. Those coffins… who died?”

Mrs. Twig bit her lip. “No one, Miss Everly.”

Veronica checked her temper. "Are you telling me that Mr. Rafe has invested in two silver coffins for no reason?"

"No, I'm not telling you that." Mrs. Twig's breath hitched. "Are you ready, Jack?" she called through the wall of Jacqueline's room.

Veronica's voice rose. "I heard Mr. Rafe order you to lock him in the tower earlier today. Why?”

Before Mrs. Twig could respond, the twins appeared, dressed in identical white robes. They looked like little angels, down to the steady, unearthly gaze of their green topaz eyes. But what kind of angels?

"We heard you quarrelling," they said as one. "Please don't."

Veronica heaved a sigh and fell back against the wall, glaring at Mrs. Twig.

“Come, Miss Everly,” Mrs. Twig said, herding the children in front of her.

Veronica balked. “Why?”

“Please come. You don’t want to know why. But you must do as I ask. You must.”

Full of misgivings, Veronica followed Mrs. Twig. Maybe she'd at least get another piece of the puzzle.

They crossed the landing, and went down the long gallery overlooking the vestibule to the stairway leading up to the third story. Their reflections in huge mirror on the end wall, looked like miniatures in a haunted doll's house.

The twins stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to look up at Mrs. Twig. Their eyes were round with fear.

“Where are we going?” they both asked, their voices strangely echoing each other.

“To a place where you will be safe.  Miss Everly will stay in her rooms, at full attention.” Mrs. Twig gave Veronica a hard stare. Veronica glared back. She would not be intimidated.

“She'll not stay with us?” The twins moved closer to Veronica, clutching her skirt possessively.

“No, no, no. But she will know where you are and make sure everything is all right.”

The twins glanced up the stairs to the third floor as if they were frightened of the
rooms up there.

The sounds of panting and the ticking of claws signaled the presence of Wolfgang. Veronica watched the dog approach them in the mirror.

"What about Wolfgang?" the twins asked.

"We'll post him outside the door."

"We want him inside with us." Again, the echoing effect.

"I don't think so," said Mrs. Twig,

The dog barked and trotted over to the twins. One of the twins kneeled down to hug him close.

“Why can’t they stay in their own rooms?” Ver
onica asked. "I'd be much nearer."

“They need to be somewhere
safe
, Miss Everly.”

Safe, safe, safe
, Veronica thought. “Safe from what?”

"From knocking into the furniture, breaking things. Hurting themselves." Then, as if she spoke to herself, "It may also be best that their exact location is not known. Come along children. Miss Everly?"

Veronica gave up the fight and followed the housekeeper up the stairs.

Mrs. Twig was wise to bring the candles, for the stairs grew darker as they climbed. They stopped at a corner landing where the steps turned up to the fourth floor. A large window of thick stained glass semi-brightened the back wall, and right in the ell where the back wall met the wall along the stairs, were two stone steps and a polished oaken door.

"This is the room you told me about when I first arrived," Veronica said. "The one with no windows."

"Yes."

Mrs. Twig handed the candles to Veronica, unlocked the door, and guided the twins into a room that smelled as if it hadn’t been aired out in centuries.

The light struggled to illuminate the gloom, but the twins glowed like white lamps in the darkness. Rose damask glimmered on the walls around a dead fireplace. The floorboards still held the sheen of polish all the way to three tall windows glowing dimly in the curve of the far wall. A crystal chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling. Otherwise the room was empty.

"It's a tower room." Veronica whispered. "I suppose that explains the odd placement of the door."

“It used to be beautifully furnished,” said Mrs. Twig. “It was a lady’s boudoir, at one time, with a large bedstead and hangings. That row of three tall windows opens out onto a balcony. The room with no windows is
inside
of this one. And the secret room, just above, has a window that can’t be seen from the outside. It’s all built in a sort of... spiral."

“What happened to the furniture?” Veronica asked. It seemed a bit cruel to leave the
children alone in this dismal, empty shell of a place. If any part of the house were haunted, it would have to be these rooms.

“Mr. Rafe sold it all off. He’s been forced to sell many of our treasures.”

"Not enough of them," Veronica muttered.

The twins had wandered into the windowless room. Now they came out, looking resigned. Their hands looked odd, the fingers stiff and twitching. For the first time, Veronica noticed how pointed their fingernails were.

“We don’t like being closed up in a box,” said one.

Veronica certainly sympathized. She was about to speak when Mrs. Twig flashed her a warning look.

“Now, Jack, you shall have to stay here tonight, locked in that windowless room to prevent you jumping out.”

"Jumping out?" Veronica gasped.

“No! No!” they both cried.

“We shall come up to the door periodically to make sure you are all right. Wolfgang will stand guard, but no one will come
in to you until morning.”

“No one will come in here,” said one, looking into the eyes of the other. "We'll be alone."

"In here," said the other.

“What about the deer?” said the other to Mrs. Twig.

The twins' faces, shining white in the glow of the candlelight, were so exactly alike that they hardly seemed human. An odd slant was coming into their eyes. Glancing at their hands, Veronica saw their palms were filled with white fur now, and their fingernails had grown longer, and more pointed.

Mrs. Twig glanced uneasily at Veronica who hoped that the horror of watching the twins change did not show on her face.

“Janet is bringing something up to you. She should be on her way now. You must stay in the windowless room tonight, I don't want to worry about you.”

They glared at Mrs. Twig as if they hated her. The housekeeper looked taken aback. Her voice went hoarse. "I'm sorry, Jack, but you know how necessary this is."

Veronica had never seen the eyes of the twins glitter like this before, never sensed that they might turn on Mrs. Twig. Veronica stepped back, but Mrs. Twig grabbed her arm.

"You take these candles while I lock the door. Stay put. Those stairs are pitch black this time of night.

Veronica took the candles and waited reluctantly on the landing. Indeed, the stairs were dark. Without candles, one would not be able to see one foot before the other. The light flashed nervously over the walls as Mrs. Twig herded the twins into the windowless room and secured the door. The children's voices bounced around the empty room, forsaken and forlorn.

Mrs. Twig was brisk. “Take those candles, Miss Everly, and find your way back to your rooms."

“What will
you
do for light?”

“I will wait here for Janet. She will bring her own. I don’t want you to take a wrong turning in the house. Especially not tonight.”

“What about the twins?”

“Your room is close enough below. If you hear anything strange, don’t be alarmed
. Just come and get me. Everything shall be under control. If you must, just call up the stairs. Let them know you're here for them. But don’t go in, under any circumstances. Do not go in.”

"All right, Mrs. Twig."

"And if you see anything unusual, call for me."

"As you wish."

Veronica turned down the stairs. Moving along the gallery, she met an unfamiliar girl with a fluttering candle branch that spattered the huge mirror with golden light. Janet followed behind her, wheeling a large covered serving platter of polished pewter.

The deer
.

Veronica shivered. They passed each other without saying a word.

*

Forty-Six

V
eronica arrived in her rooms oppressed by a great melancholy. Fingering the keys to the upstairs room, wondering what she was doing with them, she went out onto her balcony. The sky was so black, it was as if there had never been any rain. Behind the ruined bell tower, the two tall cypress trees rose like horns above the woods. The full moon shone between them, large with mist.

Profound, poetic humors wafted through Veronica's mind. It was difficult to understand how something as remote and clear and
wonderful as the moon could induce madness and chaos. But she was beginning to feel how it could. And it would. Tonight.

Stiff with tension, she went in and sat by her struggling fire. The
Bestiary was on the ottoman, waiting with its great tongue of red silk, to teach her things she did not want to know: Lycanthropy and the mural of Saint Lupine, who was really Sovay, leading her pack of wolves.

Lupine... Lupus...

The fire sizzled up. The flames jumped and flashed as if they would leap from the hearth, throwing a dazzle of light over
The Book of Unholy Beasts.

The Bestiary was on the ottoman. W
ith a sigh of acquiescence, Veronica picked it and held it on her lap.

Homini Lupus...Lupa... the lady in yellow.

She found a page of the translation with a note attached, just under the ones describing werewolves.

The Magical Personality

In order to make his magic more effective, the Magician must shed his ordinary personality for one greater than himself. To this end he creates a Persona, a character who embodies the attributes that the magician needs in order to affect the magical outcome he desires. This Persona, or Magical Personality, is a vehicle in which he may travel to other worlds, a robe of power before which the demonic realm must kneel.

The note appended to this page was
a drawing of a picture Veronica had seen before: a lady in a yellow gown in the jaws of a wolf.

"I was right. Sovay and Saint Lupine are one and the same," she whispered.

By putting this bit of information right under the description of the werewolf and adding this drawing of Saint Lupine, it seemed Rafe was trying to tell her, without spelling it out, that Saint Lupine was Sovay's magical personality.

She read a little further:
If over-used, the Magical Personality may overshadow that of the magician. It may take on a life of its own. Such is the danger of the Devil's Work.

Veronica laid her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to think any more, but sleep was impossible. The door was open now. Maybe she should pack her bags and slip away at dawn, before anyone could stop her.

A thump on the wall startled her. The dog was barking, whining. He must have come downstairs, desperate for a walk. She would have taken him, but she'd been ordered to stay inside. What would Rafe do if her caught her out outside? Would he strike her with his fist? Would he lock her in for good?

It saddened her to be afraid of Rafe, to feel this
threat, this dread. It was possible that, on a night like this, he was trying to protect her. He knew something she didn't. She'd yet to see how the full moon affected him. It was unthinkable that he might be like the twins.

What i
f there were deaths reported in the news tomorrow... of people mistaken for wolves?  Realizing how tired she was, she closed her eyes and tried to empty her mind.

Soft cries wafted through the house. The twins were calling
to her
.

Grabbing the
keys and a candle branch, she hurried out to the corridor and started down the gallery.

"I'm coming Jack!" she shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

With unsteady hands, Veronica grasped the banister and looked up into the darkness. Wolfgang was up there, pawing at the door and whining to be let in.

A long, low growl drifted down then faded.

Bang! Smash!

“Jack, hold on! I’m coming. Just a second.”

That tune was starting in her head again, making it difficult to think. Drawn by an urgency she could not resist, Veronica started up the stairs.

“Don’t, Miss Everly!  Stop!” Mrs. Twig shouted up from below. "You're not to go in."

"But I heard a crash. What if they've been hurt?" she shouted down.

Mrs. Twig looked about to swoon. “I'm sure they've heard you, Miss Everly. Now, please, come down.”

A moan filled the house, like a low relentless wind. Wolfgang began barking and lunging at the door.

"Mrs. Twig! I think we should..."

"No! Come down!"

Veronica tore herself away, and hurried down the gallery to the stairs.

Howls fell down from the twins' room, high-pitched and eerie. Veronica froze. No human being could make that sound. Only a wolf could sound like that.  

Wolfgang howled back, and scrabbled at the door.

The tune grew in Veronica's mind grew louder, more insistent. With a voice that didn't feel, or sound, like her own, she called down.

"The dog wants to go in to them, Mrs. Twig. He seems quite mad."

Mrs. Twig raised her voice. “Leave him. Come downstairs!”

The house was freezing, as if all the fires had gone out. Veronica hurried into her room to grab a shawl. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she looked out the window. The moon had risen higher between the two cypress trees, shedding its light on the ruined chapel and the bell tower. 

The bell began to toll.

Wrapping her shawl tight, Veronica ran down the stairs. Mrs. Twig's face was a grimace of determination. She handed Veronica
another ring of keys.

"What are the
se for?"

“You must help me with something. I want you to go to Mr. Croft. Tell him to come immediately and make sure the windows of that room up there are secure. He'll have to do it from the outside. He'll need a ladder. I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. But... All of those rooms should have been built without windows.
All
of them.”

"But, Mrs. Twig, Mr. Rafe told me not to leave the house."

"But I have to stay here. I am better prepared to guard the door."

"The door. Guard it from what? From her?'

"Yes."

A high wind blew up out of nowhere, swirling around the house, smashing branches down from the trees. Veronica swallowed hard. She didn't want to go out. It seemed she could see black striations in the wind, flying like a hail of arrows.

"That wind, Mrs. Twig..."

"Its not a natural wind," Mrs. Twig murmured, her eyes darting around in the gloom. "It's a magical attack."

Veronica swallowed hard. It was true. They knew all about such things. “Why must I go for Mr. Croft? I thought you locked the twins in the windowless room.”

Mrs. Twig’s face was grim. “I did. But those sounds you heard.... I'm not sure the door held out. It's old and weak... and they are strong.”

“Where is he? Where is Mr. Croft?”

“He should be in the cottage beyond the stables. Go through the house and find the service door at the far end of the servants’ quarters. You’ll see the lane to
Pitchfork Cottage
. Hurry.”