Thornhall Manor (5 page)

Chapter Nineteen

THE NIGHT AFTER ANOTHER FUNERAL

Having said goodbye to the last of the mourners, both John and Rebecca adjourned to the drawing room.

“It's been a long day, John.”

“Yes, Rebecca. I'm tired and very lonely. Today, seeing your mother and father, I realised for the first time how lonely they must have felt. We took your affection from them. It was wrong. I see that now. Things will never be the same, Rebecca. Material things mean nothing when you lose your nearest and dearest. My father used to have a saying, ‘Nothing lasts forever'. How true, Rebecca! I'm feeling sorry for myself. I don't think I'm going to be good company for you, my dear Rebecca. I've been thinking: go and stay at your parents' place for a few days. It will do you good. I'll be all right. Peter should be back soon.”

Chapter Twenty

AN APPEAL FOR HELP

Peter made the most of Rebecca's absence. Knowing how his uncle appreciated the care and kindness he showed to Kathleen, He felt he now had the opportunity to find out more about Thornhall Manor; he could then plan for the future.

Both men were deep in thought. John Wheeler was devastated by the loss of Kathleen; Peter Nesbit was wondering about the right time to ask questions.

The silence was broken by: “I miss Rebecca, Peter.”

“I'm sure you do, Uncle.”

“With Rebecca gone, and my dear wife Kathleen . . .”

Peter watched as the tears rolled down his uncle's face, revealing an emotion Peter found hard to understand.

Peter's thoughts were elsewhere. He was paying no attention to his uncle's conversation, but glanced around at the priceless paintings and family heirlooms. He was thinking, ‘Maybe one day - who knows? - this could all be mine.'

Suddenly: “Thank God for the children!”

“What children? I don't understand, Uncle.”

“I can see them now - Peter, Kathleen, Rebecca, William and Paul - playing by the river. They are no longer children. Rebecca is a beautiful young lady and the brothers are fine young men.”

“Are they related, Uncle?”

“No, but they're my family. Let me explain, Peter. When she lost the baby she longed for, Kathleen lost her reason for living. Days, weeks, she spent at that window, looking across the lawn. There was nothing I could do or say. I felt helpless until - it was something Roger said. He said, ‘She needs someone to care for.' I took his advice and went to Rose Cottage, wondering how my request would be received. Often over the years I'd look in at the cottage. They are estate tenants and we had become quite good friends. They had two sons, William (the eldest) and John. There was also a little girl, not related, named Rebecca, who had mysteriously joined the Foster family. It was this little girl that was in my thoughts. While I was talking to Ned, Mary entered the room, and she said how sorry they both were about my sad loss. I told them how Kathleen was spending hours just staring out of the window, and I asked them if they would allow Rebecca to stay a few days with Kathleen. I had an idea that maybe having a little girl in her care would help her. Ned and Mary were eager to help, but they told me it was not up to them to give permission. There was no looking back after that, Peter. That little girl took the place of the baby Kathleen lost. I used to watch them by that same window, playing on the lawn.”

Peter now realised he would need all his cunning if he were to be master of Thornhall Manor.

“I see you have a coloured servant, Uncle.”

“Oh, Samuel? He's no servant, but one of the family. I was with my brother Vincent. We'd been attending a shareholder's meeting in London, but our business was finished. We made our way to the local inn. A young boy ran past us, being chased by a villainous-looking brute. The boy tripped and this brute laid into the young lad unmercifully. Vincent took the brute by the scruff of his neck and threw him to the ground. ‘You have no right to attack me,' said the brute. ‘I'll have the law on you. He's been bought and paid for to work for me.' I took a handful of about twenty gold sovereigns from my pocket and handed them over. Then I helped the young lad to his feet. I asked him his name, but he never answered. He's been with me ever since.”

Chapter Twenty-One

REBECCA RETURNS TO THORNHALL MANOR

Watching the flames and the sparks from the burning log fire, it was hard for Rebecca to realise she'd been away so long. Looking around, many things reminded her of happy times gone by, but as the weeks passed she felt torn between the two - Thornhall Manor and Rose Cottage.

She could hear him saying, “I love you, Rebecca. Stay here. I've always loved you.”

No longer did she have a brotherly love for William, but a longing to be with him for ever.

“Rebecca, you must do what you think is right.”

“I'll leave tomorrow, Mother, for Thornhall Manor.”

“I'm sure you've made the right decision, my dear. William will understand.”

Rebecca knocked on the large oak door, then heard the sound of bolts being withdrawn. Slowly the door opened.

“Thank God, Rebecca, it's you. The master's had a stroke and is unable to talk.”

Tears filled her eyes when she saw his face twisted and his right arm hanging limply by his side. She gently kissed him on the cheek.

“You must leave, Rebecca, before he returns.”

Suddenly there was a thunderous noise and the screeching of bolts, followed by heavy footsteps.

“Who's leaving? You can't leave now, my dear. My uncle needs you. He needs looking after. Did you know that if anything happens to him, Thornhall Manor, the estate and a vast fortune will be yours - not mine? Can you imagine how I felt when he told me?”

She watched him strutting up and down, slashing the side of his breeches with his riding whip.

“Yes, Uncle. No, Uncle. What shall we do today, Kathleen? For what? A paltry 500 guineas a month! I've lost more than that on the turn of a card.”

Was this a dream? A nightmare? She hoped she would awake to find herself back at Rose Cottage.

From his waistcoat pocket he slowly took a slip of paper.

“I think this was meant for you: ‘Rebecca, come at once. I fear for the master. Don't come alone. Roger.' How fortunate that I happened upon Samuel when I did. The harm this note would have caused in the wrong hands!”

“Rebecca, open the door. Please open the door.”

“Go away, William. My place is here at the manor. I should never have gone to Rose Cottage. This is my home. Please go. I no longer love you. Please go.”

“Rebecca, I love you. Don't do this to me. Please open the door.”

Through her tears she could see Peter, pistol at the ready. As she turned and walked away, she could hear the sound of his voice fading into the distance: “Rebecca, Rebecca.”

“What a performance! My dear, you should have been an actress.”

As he pushed his way past Rebecca, she could smell the stench of alcohol. Roger was fearful for his young mistress. With Peter's heavy bouts of drinking, how long could she ward off his advances? And what had become of poor Samuel? Was there nothing he could do?

At Rose Cottage Mary and Ned were distraught.

“Why, Ned? Why did she go back? She seemed so happy here.”

“We done wrong, Mary. I see that now. We sacrificed our own happiness for Kathleen's, and in doing so we lost the love of our little girl. If it's her wish to remain at Thornhall Manor, then it's our sad loss once again.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

A SECRET PASSAGE

He could hear the squeaking staircase, the heavy stumbling footsteps passing his bedroom door, the turn of a key, a faint scream, then silence. He felt there was nothing he could do for Rebecca.

He could hear Peter's voice now as he rained blows upon his back with his riding whip: “Unlock that door again and I'll kill you.”

Roger realised that Peter was completely mad, but he found that by disguising his true feelings he was now allowed to attend to his master's needs.

“You are now the master of Thornhall Manor, sir,” he told Peter.

“Do you really think so, Roger?”

“Definitely, sir.”

Roger felt completely alone and utterly helpless as he watched this drunken swine night after night staggering up the stairs and along the corridor to Rebecca's bedroom. He poured himself a brandy and sat down with his head cradled in his hands and tears in his eyes.

‘Oh, God, how is this happening?'

His thoughts were interrupted by a tapping. His master needed him. To draw Roger's attention he'd tap with one finger on the chair's armrest. Going to him, Roger noticed he was trying to draw his attention to several books displayed above a bookcase. He tapped his finger seven times, stopped, then again seven times. An English dictionary,
Gardening for Beginners
,
Trees of the Countryside
,
Vineyards in Germany
,
Romans in Britain
,
Birds of Prey
,
The History of Thornhall Manor
. As Roger held this book in front of his master, there was a look of achievement in his eyes. He was trying to tell Roger something, but what?

Page One, Chapter One. ‘Thorn Valley, 1712'. Roger became engrossed, reading how in 1712 John's great-great-grandfather, William Wheeler, decided to clear away all the thorn bushes and build the manor, and how as a young man he travelled abroad, settling in Jamaica and making a vast fortune, and how he then decided to retire in England. It wasn't until 1717, with the manor completed and named, appropriately, Thornhall Manor, that sadly at the age of sixty-eight, two years after the completion, William Wheeler died of malaria. For a brief moment Roger forgot the nightmare going on around him until ‘tap, tap, tap', then silence, then ‘tap, tap, tap'.

“Is it Page Three, sir?”

‘Tap, tap, tap.'

“Chapter Three?”

The tapping stopped.

Quickly Roger turned to Page Twenty, Chapter Three: ‘Problems with Construction'. Although interesting reading, there was nothing significant until ‘It appears that whilst the manor was under construction William Wheeler insisted that an escape passage be incorporated. As far as is known, he never had reason to use it. However, his son on many occasions used the passage to evade the fury of irate husbands. . . .'

In over thirty years' service Roger had had no idea of the passage's existence. Its location was a closely guarded family secret. He continued reading, page after page, but he could find no clue about the passage's whereabouts.

He closed the book and a feeling of utter dismay came over him. How long would his master last without proper medical attention? ‘God knows what Rebecca's been going through!' he thought. He did not know whether Samuel was dead or alive. Roger looked at the large clock above the fireplace.

“It's past your bedtime, sir.”

How he enjoyed their one-sided conversations! Whether his master understood he had no idea.

Roger turned and picked up the book and was about to return it to the bookcase when he stopped.

‘I wonder.'

He returned to his master with the book, and pointed to the family coat of arms. He could see by the look in his master's eyes that the coat of arms was important in some way.

There were only two coats of arms on display at the manor, one over the entrance and the other on the right of the great fireplace. Could this small coat of arms be the key to the family's secret? The family motto was ‘Press on Regardless'.

Press on! Without a moment's thought he pressed hard. He had no idea of the surprise he was in for. At the side of the fireplace an oak panel slid behind the bookcase to reveal the entrance to a passageway.

Roger quickly regained his composure. He realised there was no going back now. He had to face whatever lay ahead.

He held his master's hand and kissed him gently on the forehead. Then, taking the lamp, he made his way into the dark passage. It was cold and damp with overhanging cobwebs. He found it frightening not knowing where it would lead. Holding the lamp high above his head, he could see that the passage turned to the right.

As he made his way along the dark corridor he thought, ‘I can't go on. What am I doing here? I must turn back. I'll be imprisoned.' To block these frightening thoughts out of his mind he thought of Rebecca, his master and Samuel. This gave him the courage he so badly needed at that time.

He had probably been in the passageway no more than ten minutes (it seemed more like ten years) before he came upon a small door. It took all his strength to prise it open. A few more steps and he left that terrifying experience behind him. He could hear the rain and see flashes of lightning. It wasn't long before he realised exactly where he was - the old prison room, said to be haunted. A sudden fear came over him. Someone or something had grabbed his ankle. He was terrified, unable to move.

It was a flash of lightning that enabled him to recognise Samuel - poor Samuel! - shackled and chained to the wall. The two men hugged each other.

“Oh, Samuel, you're alive. Thank God!”

“The key!” Samuel pointed to a large rusty nail from which hung the key.

As he unlocked Samuel's chains, he felt something run across his feet. It was a rat.

“Oh, Samuel, I thought I'd never see you again. Poor Samuel! How can anyone be so evil! Now, Samuel, if my mind serves me right, that door leads to the woods.”

The two of them, after a struggle, managed to open the door.

“Now, you make for the woods. Hide, and stay there while I go to get William. God willing, maybe with his help we can end this nightmare.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

THE RESCUE

Bang, Bang, Bang.

“All right - I'm coming.”

As he opened the door, Roger collapsed in his arms, drenched to the skin.

“Is William here?”

“I'm here,” William called from the stairs. “What's wrong?”

“It's Rebecca, William.”

William and his father helped Roger to his feet.

“You must go to her. She needs your help.”

“I don't understand.”

“She never meant a word of what she said to you. She had to tell you to go away to save your life. Peter would have killed you. He's mad, completely mad.”

“Who's mad?”

“It's all right, Mother. It's Roger. Get those wet clothes off him.”

Wrapped in a blanket, his clothes steaming in front of the fire, feeling slowly returned to his numbed fingers. He found it hard to put into words the evil he'd lived through.

“Roger, how is Rebecca?”

“I don't know. I don't know.”

William quickly buttoned his thick leather coat. The expression of disbelief on his parents' faces turned to fear as they watched William.

“No, William, that's not the way.”

“I'll kill him,” he said as he slipped a pistol into his belt.

With a drink in his hand and still unsteady on his feet, Peter descended the oak staircase.

“Roger! Roger! Where the hell is he? It's no good asking you, is it, Vincent? You couldn't tell me if you knew, could you? It was then he noticed the opening at the side of the bookcase. Standing there, his feeling of power seemed to melt away.

“So Roger has discovered the family's secret.” He'd learnt what Peter, with all his charm, could not prise from Kathleen.

He knew now it was only a matter of time before he'd be held accountable for his actions. His air of self-importance turned to fear and anger.

“If it's not to be me, then no one will be master of Thornhall Manor.”

He burst open the door of Rebecca's room and she lay limp in his arms as he carried her down the stairs and threw her on to the couch.

He pulled back the great bolts and opened the great oak door. He then harnessed the horses to the coach. On his return he smashed a lamp on the floor. A large puddle of oil spread and then ignited.

He picked up Rebecca, looked around then left.

Where was she? Rebecca had no idea. She could hear the cracking of a whip and feel the jolting up and down.

‘How did I get here? Where am I going?' She tried hard to remember. ‘My name? What's my name? Why are we travelling so fast?' She could see the trees flashing past.

She remembered no more except a terrific noise, then silence.

Galloping along the flooded highway, with the wind and rain lashing his face, William noticed the red glow in the sky. His worst fears seemed to have been realised.

“Oh, God, Rebecca!”

William reined in to steady his mount as two frightened horses bolted past, dragging their harnesses behind them. In the distance lay a coach on its side. He quickly dismounted. Rebecca had been thrown clear, but there was no movement from her when he knelt down, cradled her in his arms and brushed her thick fair hair from her face. How pale and thin she looked!

The crack of a twig underfoot alerted him, but too late. The whip cut deep into his face. Blow after blow rained down on him. He grabbed the whip with one hand and struck out with the other, knocking Peter to the ground. He lay there motionless, blood pouring from a cut across his forehead.