Haunted

by Barbara Cartland

  Charles’s room came first and he went into it.

  They then came to Mimosa’s.

  As she opened the door, she hesitated and suggested,

  “I think I would be happier if tonight Hunter slept with Jimmy. If somebody crept in and prevented him from calling out as they did last night, Hunter would wake you.”

  “That’s a good idea,” the Marquis agreed, “but will he stay with Jimmy?”

  Mimosa smiled.

  “If I tell him to.”

  She bent down to pat Hunter, who was standing beside her, and then said,

  “Go with Jimmy, Hunter. On guard! There’s a good dog!”

  For a moment Hunter hesitated, looking at her, longing to be with the Mistress he adored.

  Then Jimmy said,

  “Come on, Hunter! Come and sleep on my bed as you sometimes do at home.”

  “On guard, Hunter!” Mimosa called out again.

  The dog, with what seemed like a reproachful look at her, moved slowly towards Jimmy, who began to run ahead down the corridor.

  Hunter ran after him and Mimosa smiled at the Marquis.

  “Goodnight,” she sighed, “and thank you again for bringing us home safely.”

  As the Marquis walked away, he heard the key turn in the lock.

  Henson had everything arranged for Jimmy to sleep in the dressing room that opened directly into the Marquis’s bedroom and he was there waiting for them.

  “Help his Lordship into bed,” the Marquis said. “He is half-asleep already. Then, Henson, there will be no need for you to come back as I intend to read the newspapers before I go to bed.”

  “When I’ve ’ad me supper, my Lord, I’ll be back and see if there’s anythin’ I can do for you,” Henson said firmly.

  The Marquis did not argue, but picked up a newspaper and settled himself in an armchair.

  It took Henson only a few minutes to help Jimmy undress, then, having drawn the curtains, he came into the Marquis’s room leaving the door ajar.

  “I am sure there will be no trouble tonight,” the Marquis said, “but you have put my pistol by my bed?”

  “Yes, my Lord, and of course it’s loaded!”

  “Good!”

  When he was alone, instead of reading The Times, which he held in his hand, the Marquis rose to stand at the window looking out onto the garden.

  The sun was sinking, but there was still a vivid glow behind the trees and it was that quiet moment of dusk when the first evening star is coming out faintly in the translucence of the sky.

  There was no sound except for the high squeak of a bat and the last of the rooks going to roost in the oak trees in the Park.

  It seemed impossible, with everything so peaceful and beautiful, that there could be a villain like Norton Field plotting and planning to murder a young boy simply because he coveted his title.

  The Marquis felt his whole body tense with his determination to outwit him and yet he had to face the fact that so far it was only by a miraculous stroke of luck and not by any brilliance on his part that Norton Field had been unsuccessful.

  ‘What the devil do we do next?’ he asked himself.

  Then, as if he forced himself not to go on worrying, he sat down again in the armchair and, putting his feet up on a stool, deliberately opened the newspaper at the editorial page.

  *

  Mimosa was also gazing at the beauty of the last golden rays of the sun.

  She had pulled back the curtains from one of the high windows in her bedroom and pushed up the lower part of the window as far as it would go.

  Then she looked out thinking, as the Marquis had, how beautiful everything was and how it seemed impossible that there should be evil so near them and the menacing fingers of death when everything appeared to be so quiet and peaceful.

  ‘This is the third time that Jimmy has been saved,’ she thought to herself. ‘What will Cousin Norton try next?’

  She felt herself shiver at the thought of him, then turned from the window and started to undress.

  There was a small wardrobe room leading out of her bedroom that must have been designed originally as a powder closet.

  She took off her evening gown and hung it up, thinking as she did so how dull and ordinary she must have looked in it beside the treasures of Heron Hall and the distinguished appearance of the Marquis and Charles in their evening clothes.

  ‘Perhaps one day,’ she told herself, ‘when nothing intimidating is happening, I shall be able to buy a gown that I will not look so countrified and dull in wearing.’

  The only reason she wanted to look different was to make the Marquis admire her as he admired the beautiful women he associated with in London.

  She had heard about them from Henson, who had, of course, been very voluble on the subject.

  “His Lordship must find it very dull here in the country when he does not have a party,” Mimosa had said.

  “’E ’ad a large party just before you arrived, my Lady,” Henson answered.

  “Were the ladies very elegantly dressed and very beautiful?” Mimosa asked because she could not suppress her curiosity.

  “They glittered all over with diamonds like chandeliers,” Henson answered with a grin, “and wore gowns that must have cost a right mint of money!”

  “And were they witty and amusing?”

  “That’s the way they all starts,” Henson replied, “but they soon gets ’is Lordship yawnin’, then hey presto, they disappear out of ’is life and in comes another!”

  Mimosa had the idea that she should not allow Henson to talk to her like this, but she could not help finding it fascinating.

  She wanted to know more about the Marquis’s likes and dislikes, simply because she had never thought it possible that there could be a man like him.

  He was so clever and interesting and at the same time so kind and understanding.

  ‘No one else would have listened to me when I came here with such a fantastic story,’ she told herself, ‘and no one else would have cared for Jimmy and me as he is doing now.’

  She wondered what he actually thought about them both except as a challenge and, as Charles had said, a campaign.

  Then, as she closed the wardrobe door, she found herself thinking,

  ‘Perhaps if I had just one really pretty gown he would admire me.’

  She did not ask herself why that was what she wanted, but, when she walked back into her bedroom wearing only her nightgown, she was thinking of the Marquis.

  She gazed into the mirror seeing not her own, but his handsome face.

  She knew that she should sit down and brush her hair with a hundred strokes as her mother had taught her to do.

  Instead she walked again to the window to have one last look at the gold of the sky and the shadows growing longer under the trees before she climbed into bed.

  But, as she did so, the curtains that were drawn over the other window parted and a man came into the room.

  Mimosa made an effort to scream, but no sound would come to her lips as she saw that it was Norton Field who was confronting her.

  “Don’t make a sound. Mimosa,” he said sharply, “or I shall have to gag you again!”

  “What are you – doing? W-why are you – h-here?” Mimosa asked incoherently.

  “I want to talk to you and I think it is unlikely that we shall be disturbed.”

  There was a mocking note in his voice that made her feel that he was more menacing and more evil even than she remembered.

  Then, as she stood staring at him, her eyes wide and frightened, her hands instinctively going to her breasts, she realised as he looked at her that her nightgown was very thin and transparent and in the light from the window, very revealing.

  She looked quickly for her dressing gown, which a maid would have left for her over a chair, but with a smile that had something sinister about it, Norton Field said,

  “Get into bed Mimosa! I can talk to you there as well as anywhere else.”

&n
bsp; Because she was so terrified, she moved away from him in her bare feet and climbed into the huge four-poster bed pulling the sheets closely around her.

  He followed her across the room, taking off his coat on the way and throwing it down on a chair.

  When he reached her and sat on the side of the mattress, she felt herself shrink from him, feeling the evil vibrating towards her almost as if she could see it.

  Norton Field did not speak and after a moment Mimosa asked in a frightened whisper,

  “H-how did you – know we were – b-back here?”

  “I am not answering questions, Mimosa, but I will tell you what I intend to do.”

  She supposed that he was going to tell her how he now intended to kill Jimmy and she clasped her fingers so tightly together that they went white.

  “As you have prevented me from destroying Jimmy as I planned,” Norton Field said, “I now have another idea that I think might even commend itself to you!”

  She knew that he was mocking her once again and she managed to ask angrily,

  “How can you talk of – destroying Jimmy? It is – evil and wicked! And if you do – so you will be caught and hanged – which is what you deserve.”

  Norton Field laughed and it was not a pretty sound. “Quite a little spitfire! And actually I have to agree with you. Murder in the circumstances of your having brought the Most Noble Marquis into the picture might be rather dangerous. That is why I have something different to suggest, which will at least allow your precious brother to live a little longer than I first intended.”

  “What do you – mean? What – are you talking about?” Mimosa asked.

  “Today, when I left you to die, as you should have done in the wood,” Norton Field replied, “I thought it was rather a pity that anybody so attractive and with such a lovely body should just decompose.”

  “So it was – you who – touched me!”

  Now, as she remembered how she had felt a man’s hand move first down one side of her body and then the other, the colour came into her cheeks with embarrassment, because she had been wearing so little at the time.

  “Yes, it was me,” Norton Field said, “and it was then it struck me that I might have arranged things rather differently, which is what I am going to do now.”

  “And – what is – that?”

  Even as she asked the question, Mimosa shrank in fear from the answer.

  It would be something she did not wish to hear and she knew perceptively that it would be horrible, degrading and petrifying.

  “What I intend to do,” Norton Field leered, “is to marry you!”

  Whatever Mimosa had expected, it was not this and instinctively she sat more upright against her pillows and for a moment could only stare at him until she asked,

  “What are you – saying? Is this – some sort of a joke?”

  “It is no joke,” Norton Field replied. “Because you interfered with my arrangements, which I had thought to be foolproof, we will now tackle things in a slightly different way. I will marry you, Mimosa, and that will automatically make me, with you, Jimmy’s Guardian until he comes of age!

  “We will live comfortably in the style to which the Earls of Petersfield are accustomed. I will administer the estate and see that it becomes more productive than it is at the moment and I will in fact have nearly all the privileges of being the fifth Earl until that is what I actually become.”

  His eyes narrowed for a moment and, looking at him in horror Mimosa knew he was thinking that, long before Jimmy came of age, it would be quite easy for him by some means or other to arrange his death.

  There was silence and, knowing that Norton Field was waiting for her to speak, with what was a superhuman effort she defied him.

  “You must be crazy if you think for one moment I would – marry you!” she asserted. “I loathe and detest you! You are a criminal, a – murderer and sooner or later you will be – punished for your – crimes.”

  “I am not giving up and you will not prevent me from doing what I want,” he replied. “What is more, our relatives will think it a very sensible idea for you to have a husband like me, your cousin, to help you look after Jimmy and have the interests of the family at heart.”

  “The only interest you have is yourself,” Mimosa snapped, “and I know that you intend to take Jimmy’s place! Do you really think that as your – wife I would connive at anything so – horrible or so – wicked as to see my own brother – murdered?”

  “You are behaving as I expected,” Norton Field replied. “As I have already said, you have no choice. You will either agree to do what I want without making a fuss or I will force you to obey me.”

  “You may drag me to the altar – but you cannot make me say that I will be your wife,” Mimosa answered. “It would be a farce that would – soil the sacredness of the word for you to ask for the blessing of God – on your marriage!”

  Norton Field did not answer, but was looking at her with a sinister smile on his lips that made her more afraid than if he had raged at her.

  “And however clever you may be,” Mimosa said, “you cannot make me say – I will be your wife.”

  “You will say it when the time comes,” he replied, “and what is more I find it amusing that you are spitting at me like a wild cat. But I will tame you, make no mistake about that!

  He paused before he continued,

  “In the meantime, ask yourself why I have come to your room tonight.”

  The way he spoke swept for a moment anything she was about to say from her lips.

  Then, as she stared at him, her eyes dark with fear, he moved towards her and said,

  “After tonight, Mimosa, you will have no choice as to whether you will marry me because I shall already have made you mine!”

  Only as he said the last word did Mimosa know what he intended.

  With a swift movement for which she was completely unprepared he pulled the sheets away from her and flung himself on top of her.

  For a moment she could hardly believe it was happening.

  Then, as she felt the weight of his body and his hands tearing at her nightgown, she screamed and it was the sound of a terrified animal caught in a trap.

  *

  The Marquis finished reading the editorial page in The Times and the report of a debate in the House of Lords at which he himself should have been present.

  Then, as his hand went towards The Morning Post, he decided he might as well undress and get into bed.

  By now the light was fading outside, but he thought that he would not light the candles in case he attracted the flies.

  Instead he took off his evening coat and put it on a chair and was just removing his cravat when suddenly the door burst open and Henson rushed into the room.

  His breath was coming fitfully from between his lips as he exclaimed,

  “My Lord! My Lord!”

  “What is it?” the Marquis asked, turning from the mirror over the chest of drawers he had been undressing in front of.

  “I’ve discovered who’s bin informin’ Mr. Field of the young Lordship’s movements!”

  The Marquis was still.

  “Someone in the house?” he asked sharply.

  “The pantry boy, my Lord! It was ’im who let the men in last night by the door into the inner courtyard. I hears ’im jinglin’ the sovereigns in his pocket and I forced it out of ’im! And ’e says ’e’s received another five of them tonight for lettin’ Mr. Field into the ’ouse!”

  “He is in the house now? At this very moment?” the Marquis asked.

  “Yes, my Lord!”

  It was still hard for Henson to speak and he could only gasp,

  “Mr. Field’s with ’er Ladyship! He went to ’er room while you was at dinner!”

  For a moment the Marquis stared at Henson as if he felt that he could not have heard him aright.

  Then he moved swiftly across the bedroom, picked up the pistol beside his bed and ran out into the passage.

&
nbsp; As he did so, he remembered that he had heard Mimosa lock her door and realised that Norton Field must have been already concealed inside her room when she did so.

  He therefore opened the door of the boudoir, which was next to his own room and, moving carefully across it in the darkness because the curtains were drawn, he had almost reached the communicating door when he heard Mimosa screaming.

  He opened the door and, as he did so, Mimosa screamed again, not loudly but with the smothered sound of abject terror.

  Her voice came from the bed and, as the Marquis saw what was happening and Norton Field’s body lying on top of hers, he threw his pistol down onto a chair.

  He then sprang with the agility of an athlete at the man he had been wanting to catch.

  The Marquis was very strong and Norton Field was at a disadvantage in that he was facing down on the bed.

  Nevertheless he struggled violently until the Marquis, picking him up in his arms with a superhuman strength inspired by his fury at what he had seen, carried him bodily across the room and flung him out of the open window.

  Norton Field yelled as he did so and yelled again as he fell.

  Then, as he hit the ground, the Marquis did not wait to see what had happened to him, but turned back towards the bed.

  Mimosa was sitting up pulling her torn nightgown over her bare breasts, trembling violently with the shock of what had happened.

  The Marquis moved towards her and, as he did so, he realised that Henson had followed him in through the communicating door.

  “See to that swine outside, Henson!” the Marquis ordered sharply. “And whether he is dead or alive, get him off my property!”

  He knew that he did not have to explain to Henson why this was important.

  Without saying a word, the valet ran across the room in front of the Marquis, unlocked the bedroom door leading to the passage and went out closing it behind him.

  The Marquis reached Mimosa and, as he looked down at her in what was now a very dim light, he said,

  “It is all right! He will never trouble you again. You must try to forget that this has happened.”

  It was not what he said, but the kindness in his voice that penetrated through the horror that had left Mimosa quivering with fear.