by Rachel Secor
“No wonder Alex was livid. His livelihood and future are threatened by Garth’s return,” Katherine stated.
Just then a door slammed at the end of the corridor. The women looked at each other in fear and hastily replaced the document in the valise and behind the curtain again.
Looking out into the hallway, Katherine called, “David, is that you?”
But there wasn’t any response.
“Let’s get out of here,” May-Jewel suggested. “It might be Alex coming back.”
They hastened from there and back into Katherine’s room.
Once the door was closed behind them, May-Jewel admitted, “In the beginning Alex was so charming, almost lovable. And in spite of everything, I still find it difficult to think of him as a murderer.”
“In light of what we’ve just read, I find it less difficult to believe,” Katherine’s voice was cold and hard. “I wouldn’t hesitate to consider that he had planned to do away with both of us from the very beginning. The promised wealth of the shipping line and the prospect of the emeralds would satisfy anyone, even a greedy man like Alex. I just wonder how he came by the poison that killed Charles.”
“Poor Charles to die like that. What kind of person would poison such an old man? Who would plan such actions just for gain? I don’t want to think it might be Alex, but…” She toyed absentmindedly with her necklace. Suddenly a tightness formed in May-Jewel’s throat. Her face blanched, and she sank onto the bed.
“What is it? What did you just think of?” Katherine sat down next to her.
“You remember when we were in the garden, the time we told Alex that I lost my broach? He remarked that my mother was a ‘charming woman’ or something like that?” She started to shake as the pieces seemed to fall into place. “Then the night that he tried to have me join his scheme to take Wistmere away from you, he touched with my necklace and said, ‘It looks better on you than on the old woman.’”
“You think he knew your mother? But how could that be?”
“This necklace was a gift from Aunt Constance to my mother, and it was passed onto me when Mother died. A portrait of my Aunt wearing that very necklace hung on the wall of her house, the house where mother died. Alex couldn’t have known what it looked like on her unless he had been to my aunt’s house and seen that picture!” It was suddenly so clear to May-Jewel. The friend Mother had gone to see in Florida had to be Alex! Had Robbie sent him there? Had he been wooing her? Was he there at the time of the fire? Could he have caused the fire?
Katherine rose and moved to stand before the fireplace, May-Jewel’s words playing in her mind. Could Alex have planned to rid his path of all of Robert’s heirs, of his mistresses and their children? She didn’t like Alex, but she wasn’t sure that he was capable of such a heinous plot. Yet Charles was dead. Maybe it wasn’t because he knew Garth or because he read that letter. Maybe it was something else! Did Charles guess that Alex was guilty of a murderous act? Was he responsible for Angelique’s death in a fire? A fire!
“My mother died in a fire too.” Katherine’s face paled, and she shuddered. “It couldn’t be a coincidence that both our mothers died the same way.”
May-Jewel picked up the heart-shaped pin cushion from the silky pile of material. Engrossed in thought, she fidgeted with it. “I think Alexander Fleming has more to account for than Charles’ death. I think he killed… ouch!” she cried, dropping the cushion and sticking her finger in her mouth. “Those horrid little pins!”
“Let me see.” Taking her sister’s hand, Katherine observed, “Oh, it’s only a scratch. Go on with what were you saying.”
Using her handkerchief, May-Jewel blotted the tiny dots of blood that had oozed on her finger. “I - I don’t remember what I was saying,” she uttered, suddenly feeling confused and dizzy. Katherine resumed her conversation, but May-Jewel couldn’t understand her for her words sounded slurred and hollow. May-Jewel fanned her face for suddenly the room became like an oven. The heat rose within her temples and then boiled until she thought her head would explode, and she couldn’t think. Somewhere, far beyond her, May-Jewel heard her name, and she tried to focus on the woman’s face that floated before her. The voice seemed to swell into a thunderous roar then squeeze into a piercing whistle. A searing fire blazed in May-Jewel’s chest, and she moved her mouth to cry out, but no sound came forth. She pushed herself off the bed and away from the woman, whose face seemed to stretch into grotesque shapes.
Katherine watched in horror as her sister floundered about the room. She grabbed her shoulders. “May-Jewel, what’s the matter with you? What’s wrong?”
May-Jewel broke from Katherine’s grasp, her mouth frozen in a silent scream, her eyes seeing only threatening forms and shadows. She violently shoved Katherine, who fell against the stone mantle of the fireplace, knocking the wind from her.
Driven by the hadean heat that ravaged her body and the strident sounds exploding in her brain, May-Jewel staggered from the room, down the stairs, and out of the manor.
Her feet slowed as she entered the garden. Flashes of images now floated before her eyes. Suddenly, strands of music entered her consciousness, and she followed the sound to the gazebo. The notes heightened her sensibility, and she stood weaving to their rhythm. A silvery wash of light pierced the murky darkness that had surrounded her. She stared at the scene that materialized before her, watching as a platinum-gowned spectre and a tinseled phantom danced out of the shadows like paper dolls spinning in the wind. May-Jewel wanted to dance with them. She stumbled up the steps and entered the black and silver scene. Immediately, as if her uninvited presence disrupted the pulse of time, the dancing pair stood motionless. The phantom turned his hollow eyes unto her, his arms held out. A veil of recognition dipped in her fevered mind.
“Robbie!”
The heat that had forced her from the manor and seared her soul was suddenly replaced by a wave of coolness. The music rose to a deafening pitch as lifeless arms swept her about the gazebo. Faster and faster they spun her. The insufferable heat blazed again in her body until even the soles of her feet seemed to burn as they touched the wooden deck of the gazebo. The phantom held her tighter, his gloved hand seeming to sear her flesh as his rigid fingers, like hot iron nails, dug into her ribs. Briny droplets like acid, rolled down his cheeks, peeling strips of flesh from his gray face.
Flailing her empty arms about, May-Jewel spun around. Her own frantic dance continued until the music was drowned out by a sudden crack of thunder as the gazebo floor gave way from beneath her. Sharp protruding stones and blunted ledges of earth punched her unconscious form as she plummeted past their ancient hands toward the bottom of the well.
Chapter Fourteen
Catching her breath, Katherine rose and hurried after her sister. She exited the manor in time to hear the sound of splintering wood. Running into the garden, she stared in horror at the collapsed structure.
“May-Jewel!”
Inching slowly on her hands and knees, Katherine made her way to the edge of the gaping hole. But she drew back, choking, blinded by the dirt that swirled in the air about her. She couldn’t even see her sister, let alone rescue her. Tears of anguish burned her eyes. The longer she stared at the hole, the more she fought hysteria.
“Help! Help! Someone help me!” She screamed.
She knew she needed to get help. But she also knew that the only other person around was Brice, and she hesitated to call upon him. But he was better than no one. Katherine raced back toward the manor and almost collided with the vicar as he rounded the corner.
“David!” she cried, her heart almost bursting with thankfulness. “Oh, where have you been?”
“I’m sorry, Katherine, but I had to leave to-”
“Never mind that now,” she interrupted. “We need a rope! May-Jewel’s fallen down the well!”
“The well? Where?”
Katherine led him back to the remains of the gazebo. David looked at the hole and without another word, turned
and ran toward the barn. A short time later he returned, rope and lantern in hand.
“Oh, hurry, please!” Katherine cried, wringing her hands in frustration and fear. “We have to save her!”
Lying on his stomach, David inched his way toward the jagged edge of the broken floor to peer down into the dark hole as the dust settled.
“Can you see her? Is she alive? How far down she is?”
“The well seems awfully deep,” David replied. “I can’t really see her.” He scooted back. Then he secured the lantern to the rope and, moving back again, he lowered it into the hole.
“Can you see her now? Is she alive?”
“I can see her, but she’s not moving.” He moved away from the opening. “Let me think a minute.”
Katherine, beside herself with anxiety, screamed, “How are we going to get to her?”
“I have an idea.” David pulled the rope back up and removed the lantern from it. He then tossed an end of the rope over the main beam of the gazebo’s roof. Fastening its end around the gazebo’s side support post, he threw the other end into the abyss. Removing one side of his belt, he threaded it through the lantern’s handle and refastened the leather to his hip. The lantern dangled but remained attached. Taking hold of the loose rope, he eased himself over the boards and inched into the well.
“Oh, David, be careful!”
“Don’t worry,” she heard him say. And, “A little prayer right now wouldn’t hurt.”
Katherine watched him disappear into the darkness. She prayed frantically and paced, anxiously waiting for some word from him. After what seemed like eternity, she heard his voice again. Katherine leaned as close to the hole as she dared.
“She’s alive! She’s caught on a rock ledge above the water table.”
“Oh, thank God,” Katherine breathed. As the rope grew taunt and vibrated, she realized that David was climbing back up. As he appeared near the top, Katherine grabbed his hand to help him out.
“Let me catch my breath a minute,” he said as he leaned against the railing.
“How are we to get her out?” Katherine asked.
“I’ve tied the rope around her waist and under her arms. We can haul her up… if the main beam doesn’t split,” he looked up at it. He then moved to brace his feet against the top step of the gazebo. Grabbing the rope, he started to pull.
“Let me help!” Katherine cried. Then wrapping her skirt about her hands, she grabbed a hold of the rope behind him and began to take up the slack. Though her arms felt as if they were being pulled from her body, she thought only to save her sister. Finally a dark, dirt-covered mass of curls emerged level with the rim of the well.
A loud crack warned that the weight of her body was taking its toll on the wood. They pulled gently on the line until May-Jewel’s body slowly rose above the jagged boards.
“We got her!” David yelled. “Go around and pull her to you, if you can. That beam won’t hold much longer!”
Grabbing onto May-Jewel’s dress, Katherine pulled her away from the edge and locked her arms about her waist. But the rope got caught on a notch and wouldn’t release. Katherine teetered precariously on the edge of the well. She struggled to maintain her hold on May-Jewel and at the same time keep her balance.
“David!” She screamed. “Release the rope or we’ll both fall into the well!”
“It’s hooked on the beam!” He cried as he whipped the rope violently to try to free it. “Hold on! I think it’s coming free!”
With a snap and a jerk of the line, the tension released. Katherine and May-Jewel fell back onto the secured part of the deck.
Leaning over her sister’s face, Katherine cried, “She’s breathing! Hurry, let’s take her inside!”
The vicar released the rope that was holding May-Jewel and lifted her into his arms. Katherine preceded him into the manor, opening the doors before him as he carried May-Jewel in. Reaching Katherine’s chamber, he placed the unconscious woman on the bed.
“Brice’s in the stable. If he’s sober enough, send him to get the doctor! I’ll try to find out the extent of her injuries.”
“All right, and I’ll find some more blankets. She should be kept from slipping into shock.” David hurried from the room.
As soon as he left, Katherine took a cloth and, wetting it in the nearby basin, began to remove the dirt that covered May-Jewel’s face. Gingerly she then lifted May-Jewel’s arms and felt them and her hands for any broken bones. She did the same to May-Jewel’s legs and feet. “Oh, thank God,” Katherine sighed, for she didn’t find anything broken. But she knew she would have to wait for the doctor to find out if there was anything internally broken or injured. Katherine then covered her comatose sister with the only blanket there.
“Wake up, May-Jewel,” she pleaded. “Please don’t leave me. Please don’t die.”
May-Jewel, looking like a fragile child, her ashen face half covered by dark curls and bloody scraps, remained unresponsive.
While waiting for David to return, Katherine did what she could for May-Jewel, and then replenished the fire, coaxing it into a bright blaze to warm the room. Her thoughts centered on her sister. Once Wistmere had been her dream, now, as she sat staring at May-Jewel, she knew it had become her nightmare.
A rap on the door interrupted her thoughts. She was surprised to see Molly there with a kettle in her hand. “I were coomin’ back for me medicine an’ found the vicar in the kitchen fetchin’ some water. He said to tell ye he couldna find Brice, so he went ta fetch the doctor himself.” Her eyes fell on the bed. “What’s happened to the Mistress?”
“She fell down the well above the gazebo.”
Molly’s face registered shock. “Oh, poor lamb!”
“I’m thankful you’re here, Molly. You can be of great assistance.”
Together they carefully removed May-Jewel’s dirty and torn outer clothing. Puckered, ripped skin and blue discolorations, already turning black, quivered under the warmth of the moist cloth as Katherine bathed May-Jewel’s arms and legs. Having done all she could, Katherine dried her hands. Her eyes fell on the blue material that was to be May-Jewel’s new dress.
“She’ll be fine,” Katherine uttered, trying to convince herself, although her sister looked anything but fine.
“Aye that she will.” Molly replied, patting Katherine’s hand. “Dunna be worrin’ yourself. Do ye be knowin’ how she coom ta be in the well?”
Tearfully Katherine shook her head and crossed the room. She saw the pin cushion on the floor and picked it up. Something gnawed at her as she stared at the tiny pillow. Sticking through its multi-punctured side were three very large pins. She frowned. “These aren’t mine,” she whispered more to herself than Molly. “I don’t have pins that size.” As she extracted them from the cushion, she recalled May-Jewel pricking her finger just before she ran out of the room.
Katherine moved to study the pins in the daylight. Their shafts were tarnished a strange, deep brassy color. She compared them to several other pins, but these three alone were different. She moved to the bed and, examining her sister’s hand, she saw three festered eruptions on May-Jewel’s finger that she hadn’t noticed before.
Could she have gotten those wounds when she fell down the well, Katherine wondered. Or were they the result of being punctured by these pins?
In an instant, Katherine knew that May-Jewel had been drugged or poisoned! But by whom? One word formed in her mind… Selina! Katherine was sure then that the pins had been meant for her and not May-Jewel. But it was her sister who had fallen prey to the maleficent servant’s continued attempts to harm Katherine. Selina! But why? Why does she hate us so? And where is she that she has such access to the manor? Frustration and fear almost overwhelmed Katherine as she paced before the bed. She knew that she couldn’t just sit there any longer. She had to find this woman and put a stop to her murderous intentions.
“Molly, Vicar Hawes should be back soon with the doctor. You stay here. Don’t leave Mistress Bel
wood unguarded for one moment! Not one single moment!” Katherine started for the door. “And don’t let anyone come in except the doctor or David, I mean Vicar Hawes. Not even Brice! Understand?”
“Aye, but Mistress, I seen Brice goin’ inta the gallery when I were comin’ up the stairs.”
“What would he be doing in the gallery?”
“I dunna know, Mistress. The man’s gyte.” She touched her head. “He’s daft, if ye know what I mean.”
Katherine opened the door. “Remember, Molly, no one’s to come in except the doctor or the vicar.”
“Aye, Mistress. Dunna worry aboot me lockin’ the door. I’m afeared ta be here, I be tellin’ ye. And if the poor babe t’were na ailin’, I’d be back ta me home right now.”
With a slight smile and a nod of understanding, Katherine closed the door behind her and entered the dim hallway. She heard the bolt being thrown and knew she needn’t worry about May-Jewel and Molly now. A thin ray of the late afternoon sun filtered through the narrow window at the corridor’s end. The manor was deathly quiet. Fear crept into her thoughts. What was Brice doing in the manor without being summoned? What was he doing in the gallery? Did the stableman have anything to do with what was going on? She moved down the hall, her heart beating with urgency. Now she had to locate Brice and Selina. As she approached the top of the steps, a series of thumps, heavier than footsteps, echoed through the stillness. An icy sensation ran down her back. Her heart pounded to her throat, and she turned to look behind her but saw nothing.
“David?”
The only reply to her throaty whisper was the tinkling of the crystal droplets on the chandelier from a breeze that blew in through the open front door. Katherine swiftly descended the stairs and entered the gallery. Brice wasn’t there, but the narrow door to the wine cellar was ajar, moving to and fro with the drafty breath of the manor. She had no choice but to follow Brice’s flight. Taking an already lit candle from the sconce, she placed her trembling hand on the doorknob and, opening the door fully, she walked through it.
