by Nicola Slade
‘What – what do you mean?’ Sibella sounded farther away. Had she moved to the other side of the tower? Charlotte wondered. She found herself nodding in approval; that’s right, she thought, keep her talking. It was only too clear now that whatever the truth of the matter Lady Granville was definitely sounding dangerous, even more so as she responded to the timid question.
‘You did not drink the punch,’ she said in a cold, level voice. ‘Everyone knew that Barnard Richmond was brewing up some kind of wassail at the behest of his vulgar little wife, so it was easy enough for a garden-lover to think of a remedy. “If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out,” she declaimed suddenly, her voice rising, “Pluck it out.”’
As Charlotte digested this remark, Lady Granville snapped at Sibella. ‘Why did you not drink the punch?’ she demanded, ‘I made sure you took the glass. I have been experimenting for years, drying seeds, trying new varieties of plants, and last year I dried some seeds from Queen Eleanor’s yew, though I had no real thought of using them, knowing how deadly they can be. When Cole told me you were to be at the manor I made up a tiny packet of seeds, and tucked it into my pocket. There was a gossiping crowd at the table and nobody paid the slightest attention to me so it was the work of a moment to whisk out the packet and sprinkle the seeds into a glass for you. I did have a fancy to suit my potion to the season and indeed, had intended to add a handful of berries to the wassail, holly and mistletoe and the last berries of the yew. They would have looked handsome floating on top of the brew but I decided it was too dangerous. You took the glass, but why did your sister drink it, and not you?’
There it was; Charlotte heaved a shaky sigh. She had been right all along. Right about Verena’s death being suspicious, and right about the reason. But wrong about the real mother of the child. Sibella! It was Sibella who had given up her baby to Lady Granville, and it was Sibella who should have died.
What in the world am I to do now? Charlotte was racked by indecision. Lady Granville had stopped talking in that chilly, rational tone and from the sound of it she was pacing round the roof of the turret. Was there time to go for help? Charlotte thought not.
I’ve heard enough, she concluded. Enough to warrant going up there and trying to rescue Sibella, but how am I to do that? It would be foolish to assume Lady Granville is unarmed but I daren’t leave the ruins to look for some kind of weapon. If only her ladyship’s love of historical accuracy ran to halberds and pikes hung on the walls of her ruined castle.
Suddenly a solution sprang to mind. Something so ludicrous that an hysterical giggle almost escaped her lips in spite of the gravity of the situation, but rack her brains as she might, nothing else offered, not even a stone to throw. She crept back down to Melicent and bent beside her.
‘Lady Granville is – is very angry about something,’ she whispered, ignoring the other woman’s gasp of disbelief. ‘I know, but it’s true and I’m afraid she is beside herself and means to harm Miss Armstrong. I, er, I believe she’s having some kind of seizure, or a fit of mania or something and moreover, I’m afraid she might harm the pair of us if she stumbles over us, as she may well do at any moment. I need something to use as a weapon, in case she attacks us and – listen, Melicent, and whatever you do, don’t scream – the only thing I can think of, is your false leg.’
Foresight made her clap her hand across Melicent’s mouth to stifle the outcry, and she went on in a rapid whisper. ‘I know it’s dreadful, but I assure you, I’ve thought and thought and I can’t see any other solution. I daren’t leave you here unprotected….’ She smiled in involuntarily sympathy as she felt Melicent’s heartfelt shiver of agreement, and pressed home her argument. ‘Just shut your eyes and I’ll fish under your crinoline and try to extricate your leg. If the harness is broken it shouldn’t be too difficult and – goodness, I had no idea I was still carrying my reticule, what in heaven’s name was I thinking.’ She sighed with relief. ‘My embroidery scissors are in it. They were my godmother’s, the only memento of her that I have.’ (And wouldn’t Lady Meg have hooted with delight had she been privy to the use her goddaughter was making of her keepsake?)
Mercifully the gravity of their situation seemed to have penetrated Melicent’s muddled consciousness so that she made no demur when Charlotte reached under the puce skirts and fiddled with the harness. A few moments as she sawed at the leather, and the leg was free. As she tugged it out from under Melicent’s crinoline, Char surprised them both by giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
‘Bless you, Melicent,’ she whispered, in a warmer, more affectionate voice than she had ever used to the former governess, words she had never thought to hear herself say. ‘You’re being very brave; let’s hope we can save the day between us.’
There was no time for further exchanges and armed with her makeshift weapon, Charlotte sped back up the spiral staircase, only to hear her own name spoken.
Lady Granville still sounded rational as she confided to her reluctant audience, ‘In case some mischance led the finger of suspicion to point in my direction, I made sure that young Mrs Richmond could testify that I was distraught at the thought that there had been at least three attempts on my son’s life. That being so, there could naturally be no question of my involvement in any other incident.’
The voice tailed off into a murmur and Charlotte took a deep breath. It’s now or never, she told herself, devoutly praying that it could be never, but knowing she had passed the point where she had a choice.
‘You foolish creature,’ Lady Granville sounded calm again, but there was still that distinct menace in her voice. ‘You’ll fall, of course, and I shall be distraught. Oh heavens,’ she affected a sob. ‘I shall weep and say the young lady was so insistent when she heard about the ruins, that I could not disappoint her, but somehow she tripped – just there; yes, by the break in the battlements, so tragic – and before I could reach out to her, she fell. Such a sad, unfortunate accident.…’
‘I don’t think so,’ Charlotte stood at the top of the stair, the artificial leg concealed in the folds of her skirt. ‘Lady Granville, I think you should allow Miss Armstrong to go down, if you please. By the stairs, that is,’ she added. ‘Not by the means you have just suggested.’
The moon came out from behind a cloud and shone down on the two women on the tower; shock and anger on the elder’s face, dawning hope in the younger. For a moment all three stood in frozen silence then Charlotte swallowed. ‘I think you should be aware that I’ve just found Miss Cole’s body,’ she said, and watched with fearful interest to see how Lady Granville reacted.
‘Do you think to alarm me by telling me that?’ She shook her head. ‘The woman clearly had a sentimental impulse to wander round the garden one last time before deserting her post and I suppose she tripped, or had a heart attack, or something similar. I found her last night just before the snow, but I had other matters on my mind, so it seemed sensible to leave her there.’
She turned to Charlotte and, although she had shown no apparent interest in the fate of her erstwhile companion, there was now real pain in her expression. ‘And now Mrs Richmond, you tiresome girl, you will have to fall too. It will be clear that you made a valiant but vain attempt to pull Miss Armstrong back from the brink.’ She shook her head, in genuine regret. ‘I thought I had put you off the scent, you know, by masking my intention. I made an outcry at the church, and when that foolish old man was felled by indigestion.’
‘But you didn’t even know me,’ protested Charlotte. ‘That time in the church, we had barely spoken, apart from when Lily introduced us. Why should you wish to deceive me?’
‘You – your sister-in-law – anyone at all. It made no difference to me, as long as I was able to instil some suspicion in case my plan went wrong. Indeed I wish it had not been you, I liked you so much, Mrs Richmond. We could have been friends, for I have seldom met with such intelligent understanding when it came to my garden, but now.…’
Lady Granville’s attention was held for
the moment by Charlotte, who noticed out of the corner of her eye that Sibella was edging her way towards the spiral stair, her back up against the parapet. Charlotte dared not make a sound, or any movement herself, but she approved wholeheartedly of what Sibella was up to. Only a few more feet and the enraged older woman would be between Sibella and Charlotte. Surely there must be some way to deflect her maddened strength?
Sibella stumbled and for a moment Charlotte thought her heart would stop. She hastily broke the silence, to draw Lady Granville’s attention to her.
‘It’s what you told me about history, isn’t it?’ Charlotte stammered a little, but Lady Granville stared at her, a glint of interest lighting her face. ‘You said history teaches us how to solve problems. You felt you were like Eleanor of Aquitaine, wife of Henry II, didn’t you? The Queen of England who is said to have poisoned her husband’s mistress, Rosamond of Woodstock.’
Her diversion seemed to be working, as the older woman nodded almost in approval, so Charlotte ventured another question as Sibella resumed her stealthy progress. Only a little further….
‘Does Lord Granville know about all this?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice even, ‘about Oz and Sibella?’
‘What?’ Lady Granville stared at her in patent astonishment. ‘Are you mad, girl? Of course he does not. We led separate lives, in many ways. He held a position in the government and I devoted myself to my garden and my tours of famous abbeys and shrines.
‘My maid discovered this wretched young woman’s secret, though not the name of the child’s father. That was left to me to deduce, knowing as I did my husband’s taste in young women. I had noticed his increasingly admiring glances in her direction so it was not difficult. The only other people who were privy to the business were my late maid and Cole.’ She broke off for a moment and clicked her tongue. ‘Dunster was nearly 80 and senile so I couldn’t trust her loose tongue. I was up here one day last week and spotted her limping up the drive. She stopped for a rest immediately below me so I dropped one of these small ornamental cannonballs on her head.’ Lady Granville sounded indifferent as she continued, ‘I’m a good shot with a ball but either way, killed or maimed, Dunster would be a threat no longer. Cole was here in the garden so I sent her out to bring the ball back here, but she turned out to be a fool and a dangerous fool at that, so I had to silence her too. She was proud of herself, like a dog bringing me a bone, as she told me yesterday how she stuck a hatpin into that pony’s flank at the church. She hoped to make it bolt and get rid of you that way.’ She cast a darkling glance at Sibella who shuddered. Lady Granville heaved a dramatic sigh as she went on,
‘When I found out that there was to be a child fathered by my husband it seemed the answer to my prayers. I knew my husband could have no suspicion as I had never refused his occasional demands, so there was no danger that he would question what I told him.’
Her voice rose and she turned back to Sibella. ‘I watched you tonight.’ Her voice grated, harsh with emotion. ‘Vile, ungrateful creature, you were making overtures to Osbert, talking to him, making him like you. My son. You were going to turn him against me, but I can’t allow that. I’ll kill you first.’
Taking Charlotte off her guard, Lady Granville sprang towards Sibella, hands reaching out for the younger woman. ‘He is mine. Mine alone.’
As Sibella, gasping denials, recoiled and fought to pull aside the hands that were clawing at her throat, Charlotte recollected Melicent’s artificial leg. She grasped the foot and swung the makeshift weapon like a bat, seized by the memory of her conversation about sports with Oz, and with her stepfather’s laughing injunction in her ear, ‘Hit her for six, young Char!’
Sibella’s harsh gasping filled the air as she was forced to the stone floor, so Charlotte raised her makeshift weapon and smashed it down with all her force on to Lady Granville’s arm. At the same moment a familiar yowling reached her ears and the unkempt ginger cat leaped up, dancing on its hind legs, to bat at the leather strap dangling from the harness on Melicent’s leg.
Sibella managed to struggle back to her feet, pale and terrified, and she and Charlotte faced up to Lady Granville, who, sobbing with pain and cradling her right arm, began to stumble backwards. The cat abandoned its chase of the exciting flapping thing and advanced towards the maddened woman, as it renewed its plaintive cries for food, for love, for attention.
Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw light spilling out from the glass door to the garden and, with a sob of thankfulness, heard a familiar, much loved voice calling her.
‘Char? Are you still out here in the cold? Bless the girl, what folly is this?’
Barnard, dear Barnard, had come to find her. She did not dare call out to him, but she turned to her erstwhile hostess.
‘Please, Lady Granville,’ she implored. ‘The squire is heading this way. Come down from the tower, this can all be forgotten. Sibella and I will swear never to speak of this again.’ She hesitated and, seeing her stalwart brother-in-law, clearly visible as he looked irritably around him, she whispered, ‘Please, Lady Granville, for Oz’s sake?’
The older woman glanced down into her garden and towards the house, then the cat, emboldened by the sudden silence up on the tower, began to rub its head against her skirt.
As she shrank away, she turned her ravaged face towards Charlotte, tears glistening in her dark, tortured eyes. ‘My son,’ she whispered. ‘My little, little son.’
And then she jumped.
Chapter 15
IN THE AFTERMATH of St Stephen’s Day and all it had brought, Charlotte found herself fully occupied, first and foremost with comforting Oz Granville, bereft of the only mother he had ever known. His father too, asked constantly for her opinion on this course of action and that. How to word the announcement of Lady Granville’s death? What order of service should be chosen? Did Charlotte think this hymn or that one would be appropriate? And which day did Charlotte consider would be most suitable for the funeral.
To her dying day, Charlotte was to recall her relief that Barnard had obeyed the summons passed on to him by the footman. When the air was rent by Charlotte’s cry of distress, along with a tremulous scream from Sibella, as they lunged in vain to try to halt Lady Granville’s leap, Barnard broke into a run, followed by Dr Perry who had accompanied him to the door, saying he too would enjoy some fresh air.
Almost gibbering from shock, she reached for Sibella, both of them desperate for human comfort, and Charlotte, even though her teeth were chattering, managed to impress upon Sibella that they must say Lady Granville had tripped over the cat and fallen through the broken part of the battlement.
‘We must never, ever tell anyone what really happened,’ she whispered, shivering as she did so. ‘I’ll get hold of Melicent too and swear her to secrecy, though I don’t think she can have heard anything that was said.’
There was no time for more. Barnard was leaping up the stairs two at a time, exclaiming as he encountered his sister’s former governess. ‘What the devil? Wait there, Melicent,’ he barked, as though the poor creature had a choice, Charlotte shivered. ‘Char?’ In two strides Barnard crossed the icy roof and folded her in his arms. ‘What in God’s name has happened here?’ He gave her a little shake. ‘I couldn’t see what happened exactly but when I saw a woman tumbling from the roof, for one ghastly moment, Char, I thought it was you.’
Charlotte found it impossible to stop shaking but she managed to summon enough presence of mind to stammer out some kind of explanation.
‘Lady G – Granville, she fell. Oh, Barnard, she went over the edge, by the broken wall.’ He held her tightly in his left arm and, in a gesture that spoke volumes of his kind heart, reached out his other hand to pull Sibella Armstrong into his warm, safe embrace. ‘It’s so icy and then the cat, the cat must have been curious and come up to see what we were doing, but she didn’t like cats. She told me so the other day so she just kept going backwards….’
At this point Charlotte burst into
a storm of sobs, broken only by a sudden cry. ‘Oh, Barnard, you mustn’t let Oz see her, it’s too dreadful. Make them keep him indoors, he mustn’t come out.’
He barked an order to the bewildered pair of servants at the foot of the keep and turned back to the two women. ‘You must come down now, Char, and you too, Miss Armstrong. You’ll catch your death….’ He coughed and continued briskly, ‘Yes, yes, don’t worry, Char. They’ll keep the boy indoors, but Lord Granville has been called for. And don’t fret about Melicent, poor soul, we’ll get her carried indoors and Dr Perry can take a look at her.’
Charlotte barely comprehended her journey from the top of the tower to the warm sitting room she had left only half an hour before, but when she was laid on a sofa and wrapped in shawls and blankets, she sat up with a startled cry.
‘Oh, Dr Perry,’ she was glad to see him in the doorway. ‘How could I have forgotten? You must send some men out to the far corner of the garden. I found Miss Cole’s body there, she’s by the stream.’ She began to stammer, then Lady Granville’s voice rang in her ears and she knew what she had to say. ‘I think she must have packed her trunk, and written her note, then decided on a last look round the garden before leaving. It’s the only explanation. She must have slipped and the heavy snow covered her.’
‘Good God.’ The doctor frowned fiercely at her and hastened to the outer door where she heard him issuing abrupt orders. He returned and came to feel her pulse. ‘Aye, well, you’ll do, Char, with a night’s sleep, but what a mare’s nest it all is.’ He stared down at her, pursing his lips. ‘So that’s what you’re telling me, is it? Her ladyship fell when she backed away from the cat, and Miss Cole either had some kind of seizure or she fell and knocked herself silly, then froze to death?’
