The Wicked and Wonderful Miss Merlin (17 page)

Reassured, Robert judged that he might leave her for an hour or so.  He asked the maid who had been waiting on her to peep in occasionally and to send for the doctor if she noticed anything untoward. She assured him that she had just come from Miss Merlin’s room and that she was resting peacefully.

Robert left the house and hailed a passing cab to drive him to the magistrate’s home, where he was fortunate enough to find Sir John Marks at home.  He inquired a point of law, and asked where Fenton had been taken.

‘He was violent and had to be restrained,’ Fenton said frowning.  ‘This is a serious matter for he made an attempt on your life and that of a lady – however, I doubt that he will ever be considered fit to stand trial.’

‘What do you mean?’ Robert was puzzled.

‘A doctor was summoned before it was decided where he should be held and it was decided that he was a danger to himself and others.  He has therefore been sent to a house for the protection of the insane.’

‘My God!’ Robert was astounded.  ‘That is terrible.  I had no idea he was so far gone.  I thought his hatred was for me…’

‘He was babbling, raging and foaming at the mouth,’ Sir John said.  ‘That was why I had the doctors called to him.  He spoke of witchcraft, devil worship and ritual murder but when we asked why he had attacked you and Miss Merlin, he denied it and spoke of his voices, which he claimed were telling him to destroy evil where he saw it.’

‘Then I am very sorry for him,’ Robert said.  ‘Thank you for being frank with me, sir.  I had hoped I might speak with him – see if there was a way that this situation might be rectified.  For a man of Fenton’s standing to be accused of murder…it was of his wife and family that I thought.  I would not have pressed charges if he gave his word to end this foolish feud of his.’

‘I fear you could not take his word.  Doctor Adamson is advanced in such medicine and he says that dementia of this kind is almost always incurable and can only become worse.  Once the poor fellow would have been treated with hot coals and blisters to drive the devil out, but at least he will be spared such torment.  He will merely be restrained, locked in a padded cell so that he can do no harm to himself or others.’

‘Then I must put all thought of reconciliation from my mind,’ Robert said.  ‘I can only say that I am sorry for him.  I think death would have been kinder.’

‘I agree with you,’ Sir John said, ‘but it is not for us to make the law.  The law says that such creatures should be kept alive until such time as a cure can be found for what ails them.’

After some more exchanges on the plight of such pitiful creatures, Robert shook his hand and left.  He was thoughtful on his way home.  His first thought had been to avoid pain for others, to find some way to put Fenton out of harm’s way without shaming his family.  There was no way that he could prevent that now, for his wife would learn that her husband had been pronounced mad and his children would live beneath its shadow.

At least he could be sure that Samantha was in no danger from Fenton.  The episode was over, though it left a bitter taste.

He would have liked to know exactly why Fenton had taken against him.  Was it something to do with Marianne – or merely the dementia in Fenton’s mind that had conjured some vile imagining against him.

Samantha was right.  He must put it all from his mind and move on.

‘We shall meet again soon,’ Samantha said as she kissed Eleanor’s cheek and shook Toby by the hand.  ‘I know you will enjoy your stay with Toby’s family, my dear, and when you return to us, I shall have finished my business at the school and our wedding will take place in a few weeks.’

‘I am so pleased for you,’ Eleanor said.  ‘It is right that you and Robert should be married before us, because Toby has a lot of relatives he wants us to visit and that will take some weeks.  We shall return to Brough House for your wedding and then go visiting again.  When you return from your wedding trip, you can help me plan my wedding.’

‘It will be my pleasure,’ Samantha said and kissed her again before stepping back to wave them off.’

‘They have gone then,’ Robert said as he came out of the house to join her.  ‘I was making sure that everything had been packed and thanking the staff here for taking good care of us.’

‘Are we ready to leave?’ Samantha asked as his chaise was brought round to the front of the house.  ‘I have arranged for my trunks to be sent to your home, Robert.  I need only a small bag for most of my things remain at Merlin Hall and must be packed before I come down to you in the country.’

Robert was to deliver her to her school and then go on to London, where he had business – business long neglected that had become urgent and needed his attention.

‘I would much prefer to stay with you,’ he said, ‘but I know you will have much to do, people to see and business to keep you busy.  In two weeks I shall return for you and we will return to my home together.’

Their wedding was planned for the following week, by which time Eleanor would have returned from her visit to Toby’s parents.

‘Yes, quite ready,’ Robert said and handed her into his chaise.  He gave the word to his groom and he let go of the horses’ head before leaping up at the back.

They had just turned the corner when a cab drew up outside and a man jumped down.  He banged urgently on the front door and asked for Lord Brough, but was told that his lordship had left for London.  Perplexed, the man scratched his head, looked at the message that he had been told to deliver urgently and then offered it to the maid.

‘Have this sent on to him urgently,’ he said.  ‘I have other messages to deliver.’

Turning away, he left the maid staring at the sealed letter in dismay.  The housekeeper was out and she had no idea where to send Lord Brough’s letter.  Slipping it into her apron pocket, she closed the door.  She would give it to the housekeeper when she returned.

Samantha looked around her parlour and smothered a sigh.  She had been very happy here and it was a wrench to leave it in some ways, but already her personal things had been packed into wooden cases and were awaiting the wagon to collect them and take them to her new home.  She would miss this place and all the people she had gathered about her, and of course her pupils.  There had been tears from some of the girls as well as congratulations on her engagement and coming marriage, some of which had been shed by Samantha. Miss Anne Hampden had been so disappointed that she would never join that special circle of girls to take tea with Samantha and begged to be told the story of the wishing well.

Samantha had told her that it was just a pretty fairytale, because now that she would no longer be here to explain why it might be foolish to ask the lady of the well for too much, she thought it best that the story should be forgotten.

However, she would miss her visits to the well and decided that she would pay one last visit to the well to say goodbye.  Not at midnight for she did not wish to ask anything of the lady.  All she could ever want of life was to be hers; a husband she loved, security and hopefully children of her own.

Robert was due to come down the next day and she would not want to be away from the house for there would be many last minute things to do, people to say goodbye to.  She would visit the well this afternoon and say goodbye to the lady, who had been a friend to her these many years.

She spoke to the English teacher, Miss Henderson as she walked through the hall, telling her that she was going for a walk in the woods.

‘I shall be back in time for tea with the girls,’ she said.  ‘It was to be her farewell tea and she had invited all the girls she considered to be sensible and almost ready to leave for the wider world.

Leaving the house, she walked across her lawns towards the wood.  Although it was a very warm day she was immediately aware of the coolness of the wood and shivered, thinking that she ought to have brought a warmer shawl with her.

She would not go back for it now.  Here and there were patches of sunlight filtering through the thick canopy, and gradually the icy feeling at the back of her neck disappeared and she was comfortable again.

In summer the floor of the wood was dry and debris crackled beneath her feet.  In spring there were many wild flowers and herbs growing in secret corners but now most were done, though here and there she saw patches of bright colour where either berries or fungi had sprung up.  The bright orange berries were poisonous as was the sap of the foxglove, which was the only flower she saw in clumps as she made her way towards the well.

Coming out of a patch of sunlight to the well, she could not see it properly at first and thought she imagined a dark shadow hovering above it, but then as her eyes became accustomed to the light it had gone.

Samantha shook herself, ignoring the ice at her nape.  She had never found the well menacing before.  The lady was her friend.  She had come to say goodbye to a friend, because it was doubtful that she would visit the well again – at least not for a long time.

She had no wishes that needed to be granted, except perhaps a general one for her girls.  Smiling to herself, she approached the well and threw a coin into its deep waters.

‘Thank you, my sweet lady,’ she said in a clear voice.  ‘I have come to say farewell and to ask you to watch over all my friends, as you have watched over me.  I have come to thank you and to tell you that I  shall never forget.’

Samantha was surprised to hear the music she had heard before; it was not singing nor the sighing of the wind, but a high pure sound that filled her heart and brought tears to her eyes.

She moved closer, leaning against the old stonework, her eyes closed as she allowed the music to surround her, feeling its beauty, its protection and its love.  This was a beautiful farewell, more than she could ever have expected or dreamed of, and she felt safe, cared for, her spirits lifted.  Smiling, she let herself drift off to a place of dreams and saw herself with three beautiful children at her feet and Robert striding towards her…

Robert drove like a madman, pushing his horses to the limit.  He had left London the moment Sir John’s letter came to his hand and he had read of Fenton’s escape from the house of protection for the insane.  The doctors had thought him much better, recovering from what might have been just a temporary infliction, but then he had overcome his nurse, left the man bleeding on the floor of his cell, taking his keys and letting himself out into the main hospital.  Someone had seen him leaving the building and tried to restrict him, only to be struck down with a heavy candlestick, his head cut open.  Sir John had sent word to Robert immediately for they feared Fenton might seek him out – or more worryingly Miss Merlin.  In his rage he had said something about destroying evil and a witch. In his fear for her, Robert had started out immediately but he could not travel fast enough.  If Fenton reached her before he did…she was vulnerable for it was unlikely that the madman would attack her in public again.  He would no doubt try to catch her at some vulnerable moment.  Robert could only pray that he was in time to warn her.  The last thing Samantha must do was to visit her precious wishing well.  Alone in the woods, she would be at Fenton’s mercy…

He raced up the drive to her house and jumped out, throwing his reins to his groom with the terse instruction to look after the horses.  Going swiftly into the house, he asked for Miss Merlin and was met with blank stares.  No one knew where she was, but one young woman thought she had gone for a walk.

The wishing well.  She had gone to say goodbye to her lady of the well.  Robert felt as if a voice were telling him, directing him as he turned and walked in the direction of the woods.  He had a terrible feeling that he might already be too late.

Fenton was here.  He knew it instinctively, quickening his stride.  Unsure of which way to turn, Robert paused for a moment, hoping to find some clue – flattened bracken, anything that might show him which direction she had taken.  And then he heard it…the sweetest sound he had ever heard.  It wasn’t exactly singing and it might have been the wind, except that there was no wind.

Guided by instinct, he followed the sound.  If he was wrong…but no, something was pulling him, drawing him on and he knew that he would find Samantha and that she was in danger…

Samantha opened her eyes and saw him.  He was staring at her, a look of menace on his face.  His appearance was wild, his hair lank and greasy, his face, hands and clothes smeared with dark stains that she thought might have been blood.

‘Protect me,’ she whispered.  ‘My God, what has happened to this poor man?’

‘Witch…’ he muttered and she saw his eyes roll feverishly.  ‘Bewitched…you shall not get away this time…I trusted you, loved you and you betrayed me.’

Who did he think she was?  Samantha stood as if turned to stone.  The music was louder than before, she still felt its protection wrapped about her and was no afraid.

‘Who betrayed you?’ she asked softly.

‘You did,’ he muttered.  ‘You said you loved me and then…I learned that you had been his mistress…a man old enough to be your father.’  Fenton took a step towards her.  ‘I killed you.  I came to your bed as you slept in you fever and I held the pillow over your face…but now you are here and I must kill you again…’