The Other Cathy (31 page)

She stood hesitating a moment longer. Then something
caught her attention, not a movement but a sound – a faint
jingle of saddlery. Emma turned her head against the wind to
hear better, and there it was again. So while she had been gazing out far across the open moor Matthew had been near
at hand all the time, screened from her sight by the tumbled
mass of Black Scar Rocks. She moved a few steps to look down
over the edge of the Abraham Stone and show herself. But
below her there was just her own mare, placidly chewing at a
tuft of benty grass. She called to him, as loudly as she could
into the teeth of the wind.

‘Matthew! I’m up here, on the Abraham Stone.’

There was only silence and she called again, fearful now
that her imagination had tricked her; that the sound of
Matthew’s approach had been conjured up out of her des
perate longing for his presence.

‘Matthew!’ she shouted despairingly. ‘Do hurry, there’s so much I have to tell you.’

She was starting down the stone stairway when the horseman emerged from behind a shoulder of rock – not Matthew,
but Randolph Hardaker. His glance took in the situation,
measured it, then with a wave, he swung down from the
saddle and began to climb the step-stones.

A silent scream rose in Emma’s throat and she shrank back from him, her legs rigid with fear. As he gained the top,
fastidiously dusting the knees of his dark trousers, she sum
moned all her courage in an effort to appear calm and un
afraid.

‘Uncle Randolph! How did you know I was here?’

‘There’s no mystery about it, lass. After our visitors had
left I looked for you, but you were nowhere to be found. Then
I chanced to notice you from the window, heading for the
moor on Kirstie. It seemed prudent – in view of your extreme distress – to follow at a little distance to ensure that you came
to no harm.’ He regarded her challengingly, his dark eyes
narrow beneath his heavy brows. ‘It transpires that you were
hoping to meet Sutcliffe, but as you see he is not here. So instead you had better confide to me the things you were
planning to tell him.’

Standing before her he seemed immensely tall and menac
ing, and as Emma cowered from him the naked terror in her eyes was final confirmation to Randolph that she must know
all.

‘What did the old woman tell you, lass?’ He spoke encouragingly, but when she did not answer he became im
patient. ‘Come now, it is too late for pretence, Emma, too late
for both of us. These things you’ve been hearing about me, you surely cannot find it in your heart to blame me?’

Emma’s anger and bitterness broke through her fear of
him.

‘You think I do not blame you for killing my father? You
think I do not blame you for allowing an innocent man to
pay the price of
your
crime? If you honestly believe that, you
must be insane.’

He studied her face, weighing her words in his mind.

‘So Ursly did not tell you everything she knew! I wonder why? If she’d told you this final thing, the beginning and end
of it all, you would have understood and forgiven me.’ After
a pause, he added softly, ‘You’re mistaken in thinking that I
killed your father, Emma.’

‘But you did, you did!’ she cried. ‘And that pedlar, Johnny
Gone-tomorrow, you killed him too!’

‘So you’ve guessed about that. But I had to do it, Emma,
don’t you see? I couldn’t be expected to spare a worthless ruffian like him, knowing that every day he lived would be a
constant threat to me – even if I purchased his silence tem
porarily. It was no moment for qualms; his death was the price of my peace of mind. How confoundedly unfair to have him
appear on the scene when I’d thought everything had blown
over long ago, and no harm done —’

‘No harm done!’ she screamed at him. ‘When Matthew
Sutcliffe was forced to endure all those years of brutal treat
ment in Australia! When you robbed my mother of a husband, and me of a father!’

‘Sutcliffe has done very well for himself out of it, you can’t
deny that. He’s made himself a fortune, and come back play
ing the gentleman. Not that I blame the fellow. What’s money
for
,
after all? And when it comes to you and your mother, Emma, let me tell you that neither of you lost anything of
value when my brother Hugh died. He was no true Hardaker,
he was weak and ineffectual, dominated by his twin sister.
Even the much-vaunted condensing engine he claimed the
credit for wasn’t his invention at all. But this I think you
know already – it can only have been you who removed that
draft of the patent specification bearing Arnold Sutcliffe’s
name.’

‘You
knew
it was in that book?’

‘Of course I knew, I put it there myself. I found it in your
mother’s deed box.’

‘But – but how?’ she faltered. ‘Matthew established that it
couldn’t have been you who broke the deed box open,’

His brows knit together in a frown. ‘I’ve no idea what
you’re talking about! I went through the deed box when you
first came to live at Bracklegarth Hall in order to remove anything which might possibly incriminate me, and I came across
the specification. Though it didn’t affect me one way or the
other I hid it away in one of Hugh’s books, thinking that some
day it might come in useful, if only to prove that Matthew
Sutcliffe indeed had a strong motive for killing Hugh, in the
unlikely event of the question ever being raised again.’

Emma stared at him, choked by her feeling of disgust. This
man she had so respected, regarded with such gratitude and affection – he was vicious, without principle and unspeakably evil. Was he intending to kill her, too, she wondered with
a rush of panic? What was to prevent him, he who had killed so mercilessly before? And up here on Black Scar Rocks it
would be only too easy – an unfortunate accident! Or perhaps
he might suggest that poor Emma’s mind was deranged by the
loss of her young cousin, and she had deliberately flung her
self over the edge.

Glancing around her, Emma frantically sought a way of
escape. But she knew it was impossible. Randolph made a movement towards her, his hand outstretched in what seemed
like a gesture of appeal. Instinctively Emma stepped back from
him, and he froze into stillness.

‘Don’t! Don’t go any nearer that edge, for God’s sake, or
you’ll fall. Emma, you mustn’t be afraid of me.’

She flicked a look over her shoulder and found she was
very near the scarp’s sheer drop. Where she was standing
seemed dizzyingly high, towering above the heather-clad moor;
and an infinity away from Bythorpe with its crowded houses
and people. She returned her gaze to Randolph and saw that
he had remained motionless, watchful, as if afraid that the
smallest movement on his part might drive her to a disastrous
fall. Yet what could he want of her, if not her death?

‘Why did you quarrel with my father?’ she said wretchedly. ‘Why did you kill him?’

‘You’ve got it quite wrong —’ Randolph broke off, then be
gan again. ‘You cannot think that I
intended
to kill Hugh, it was an accident. He raised his hand against me, and I’ll allow no man to do that.’

‘Are you pretending that he meant to attack you?’

‘He was crazed with anger. Hugh was very conscious of his
shortcomings, and was always trying to impress people with his cleverness. Against my better judgment Hugh persuaded
me to experiment with a new type of power loom, but it gave
unending trouble with broken wefts, involving costly delays
in our production of broadcloth. That night Hugh was desperately trying to make it work efficiently to prove that he’d
been right all along and I’d been wrong. I was returning home
from the village when I saw a light at the mill, and I guessed
it was Hugh putting in some work on the sly. So I went in to
confront him, to point out that he wasn’t deceiving me, that
the cursed machine was useless, and it was the last time I was
going to pay heed to
his
advice.’ Randolph passed a hand
across his brow. ‘One thing led to another, and the situation
got out of control. But I never meant to kill him, Emma, that
I swear. It was an accident.’

‘He was still alive when you went off and left him lying
there,’ she said with loathing. ‘If you’d called in Uncle Paget
at once, his life might have been saved.’

‘I didn’t realise that at the time. Hugh looked dead to me. To be honest, I suppose I panicked. I got out of the mill as
fast as I could and just wandered around aimlessly, wondering
what I was going to do. I was passing High Banks when I saw
a light in Paget’s study, and an idea flashed into my mind. If
Dr Paget Eade stated that I’d been with him at the time of Hugh’s death it would ensure no awkward questions were asked. I didn’t ring the doorbell but tapped on the window
pane, and Paget himself let me in. Fortunately, both Jane and the servant had already gone to bed, so they were in no posi
tion to say at what time I’d arrived.’

‘And Uncle Paget agreed to this monstrous lie?’ Emma
gasped. ‘No, I don’t believe it. Whatever his faults, he was a
man of honour.’

‘You must believe me, Emma, you must have faith in me. I
could see nothing beyond the peril I was in, and I sought a way out. It came to me in that instant that I knew something
about Paget which he would not want disclosed. Yes, child,
something highly discreditable about that man of honour! It was no moment for scruples, I had to use what weapons I possessed – can I be blamed for that?’

‘You mean you coerced Uncle Paget into supporting you,
with threats to expose him if he didn’t? It was vile of you,
vile!’

‘So I was vile, but not Paget? Let me tell you what he had
done, that man whose memory you hold in such high esteem.
His marriage to your Aunt Jane was a sham, no real marriage at all, for he already had a wife. I learned the fact by sheer chance
through meeting someone who’d known Paget in his young days before he entered the army. It emerged that the woman
had soon tired of him and became the mistress of an actor in a troupe of strolling players, running away with him when they
moved on. She was still alive, I discovered, when Paget wed my sister.’

‘And poor Aunt Jane didn’t know about her?’

‘No, and Paget was desperate that she shouldn’t! Don’t look
at me like that, Emma. I would never have told Jane, but the
threat was enough to persuade Paget. We waited together in his study until after midnight, when a messenger came run
ning for the doctor, saying that Mr Hugh Hardaker had been
found dead at the mill by the watchman.’

He fell silent, observing her keenly, trying to gauge her re
action to his words. Over his shoulder Emma noticed a kestrel
hovering motionless upon the wind, and she envied the bird
its ability to soar free in the pure, clean air. Suddenly it dived after some unseen prey, disappearing behind one of the dark
pinnacles of rock.

Randolph went on more slowly, ‘If I’d known how things
were going to work out, I’d never have gone to Paget and
involved him. I would have spared myself the constant anxiety
that one day in his cups he might say something incriminat
ing. When Sutcliffe returned to Bythorpe six weeks ago Paget
was terrified out of his wits. I had to remind him forcibly that
he was in this affair as deeply as I was, and had as much to
lose. Having kept silent at the time when Sutcliffe was ar
rested and convicted, having done nothing to confute all that fortuitous evidence which piled up against him, Paget had become, as they say, my accessory after the fact.’

‘No wonder Uncle Paget turned to drink!’

Randolph gave a black frown at the memory. ‘The fool! I
told him repeatedly that he was in no danger as long as he
kept his head, but Paget couldn’t face up to the situation like a man. He had to seek refuge in alcohol.’

Repelled by such callousness, Emma could almost feel a kind of compassion for her dead uncle.

‘Feeling as you do,’ she flung at Randolph scathingly, ‘I
wonder that you troubled to organise the search for Uncle Paget the other night.

‘I am Randolph Hardaker. I could not be seen to stand by
while a member of my family was lost on the moor.’ He gave a
rueful shrug. ‘I began to regret it, though, when Paget started
blabbering. I feared that at any moment he might say too much.’

‘So it was fortunate for you that he died so soon!’

‘Fortunate? You could put it like that.’

It was the expression in his eyes that gave Emma the clue.

‘You
killed Uncle Paget,
you
smothered him!’ she cried
with sudden total conviction. ‘Yet I don’t see how it was possible. He spoke to Aunt Jane at the very last.’