Peril at Somner House

by Joanna Challis

  “Nothing like Max’s mixture.” Chuckling, Davis motioned toward the soundless sleeping Max. “Don’t worry. It’s merely a sleeping tonic, and you understand, don’t you, Daphne, that I have to put you to sleep. I can’t have you trying to escape, now can I?”

  “What do you intend to do with me?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he replied, honest. “Despite all of this, I am not a monster, nor have I committed a murder.”

  “Josh—”

  “Josh chose poorly. I trust you do not.”

  I sniffed the coffee under his watchful eye. A sleeping tonic, he said. Closing my eyes, I prayed and drank.

  “There’s a mat over there you can lie upon, and books for you to read. Consider this a…summer house. Max shan’t disturb you. I predict he’ll sleep well into the afternoon.”

  Davis left, locking the great door behind him.

  I began to feel the effects within moments. Dizzy and light-headed, I wandered around the chamber, searching for any means of escape.

  There was none.

  None but through that door and the one lone window, which Davis had barred. I saw a baby crow flap outside and fly high into the sky. I wished to be that bird, soaring to freedom. Rubbing my eyes, I sank down, defeated, onto the mattress. My head swam, and all my limbs felt like heavy stones. I lay flat and drifted off to some unknown place, hoping and praying for a miracle.

  “Hallo there. Daphne! Daphne, wake up!”

  Startled, I opened my eyes to see Max’s hazy face peering above me.

  He poked me. “Are you alive? Why are you here in this room with me? Are you staying?”

  “I’m staying…a little while,” I managed, attempting to rise. My head still pounded, and I put my hand to my throbbing temple.

  “Come on, sleepy head!” Pulling me to my feet, Max’s frenzied hand patted my back.

  I endeavored to adjust to my surroundings. What I assumed was late afternoon light filtered into the sad little chamber and I groaned. “They gave me something vile to drink.”

  Max stared at me. “They do that. Want to play pirates?”

  “Pirates?”

  “Yes, pirates.” He scowled. “Pete knows the game. Do you?”

  I digested this information. “Mr. Davis plays pirates with you?”

  “Sometimes he does, when he’s here.” Max bit his lower lip. “But I haven’t seen him for a while. He said he’s been busy. Busy,” he scoffed, “always busy, busy, busy.”

  I nodded through the daze.

  “Don’t be scared.” Max pinched my arm. “Nobody can hurt us. We’re safe. Safe and free!”

  He rolled across the floor and invited me to do the same.

  I declined.

  “You’re droll, Daphne. Are you a grisly old maid? Want to play cards? Bridge? Backgammon? They’re all around here somewhere.”

  I helped him as he ransacked a box. There was little else to occupy me and I didn’t wish to remain alone with my thoughts. I was trapped with a madman. “Is there any way out of here, Max? I want to go for a walk around the island.”

  Pausing in his frantic shaking of a box and chewing a knotted cord with his teeth, Max thought hard. “Timas. You’ve got to ask him. He’s the one who brings the food. He might let you go swimming. I always ask to go swimming but I’m not allowed.” His lower lip formed a sulk.

  “Max, do you remember Kate?”

  Piercing blue eyes scorched me. “Kate? Oh, her. She’s dead.”

  “Dead!” Is that the lie Davis spun him? “How did she die?”

  “She went out to sea in the boat and she never came back.”

  “She drowned?”

  He nodded, his eyes sad and wistful. I applauded Davis’s genius. He had brainwashed Max Trevalyan to believe his stories with childish simplicity.

  “Max, don’t you miss your home?”

  “Home,” he muttered, his brow narrowing. “Home’s here. I don’t have any other home. They took it.”

  “Who took it?”

  “The bank men.”

  “But what about Roderick, your brother? What happened to him?”

  “Rod’s gone to London to work. He’s busy, too. That’s why he hasn’t been to visit me. But he’ll come one day. And nobody plays pirates better than Rod.”

  “You used to play pirates with him near the cove at Somner House, didn’t you?”

  Max looked amazed.

  “Do you want to play the game?”

  To humor him, I sat alongside him on the floor. Jeanne and I had played something similar as children, on our endless beachside holidays.

  Max chose Blackbeard the pirate. I chose Raoul the pirate.

  “There’s no pirate called Raoul,” Max said testily.

  “There is. Or, in my story, there is. He’s a great pirate. Adventurous and dashing…”

  “Tell me more about Raoul the Pirate then,” a dubious Max demanded. “Where’d he come from? How did he become a pirate? What treasures does he have? What’s his ship called? Has he sailed to the Americas? Around Cape Horn? Who’s his first mate?”

  “Raoul the pirate was an orphan,” I began. “He was born of…a poor Spanish maid and a Romany gypsy. She had to give birth to him in the forest.”

  Max shook his head at the poor maid’s plight.

  “The labor was hardgoing and she lost a lot of blood. In a daze, she saw the towers to a great castle through the trees and thought that if only she could get her babe there, he’d have a better life than on the run from the murderous Russian hordes.”

  Max’s eyes rounded. “What happened to the baby?”

  “The lady of the castle found him. She was very sad, as she’d lost her only son and her heart had never recovered. So, when her servants brought her the baby, she took the child and raised him as her own. Her husband accepted the child and they told everyone Raoul was their nephew. They gave him the best education, sent him off to learn all manner of things from books to warfare—”

  “Yes, yes, but how did he become a pirate?”

  “Raoul was not happy. He longed for the sea. He’d never seen the ocean, only read about it. His aunt and uncle, knowing how much he longed for a sea journey, arranged one for him, and so he set off on his great adventure upon his own ship called the Liberty.”

  Max disapproved of the name. “Why Liberty? It doesn’t sound like a pirate ship.”

  “Liberty isn’t a pirate ship,” I reminded him. “When they sailed into the Indian Ocean they came under attack by Turkish pirates. The Liberty was captured and her treasures plundered. The captain took Raoul and his men and gave him a choice. They could serve him or die. All but one chose to live.”

  Max rubbed his eyes. “Raoul chose to die?”

  “No, but his first mate did, the man sent by his aunt and uncle to look after him. This man knew that death awaited him should he ever return to the kingdom without Raoul.”

  Max accepted this with total equanimity. “And then?”

  “And then,” I hastened, enjoying the spontaneous devising of his tale, “they sailed to Malta.”

  “Malta! Why Malta?”

  “Because the Turkish sultan’s envoy had business there. But little did he suspect that in Malta, Raoul would hijack another ship, take half his men, and transform himself into a pirate. The only means of escape was via the coast of Egypt, so he raised up his pirate flag and inspired fear in the heart of the populace for four years.”

  “Did he never want to go home?”

  “No. The pirate life appealed to Raoul as he had gypsy blood. He also feared no future existed for him at home, for his cousin, who was jealous of Raoul’s good fortune, was due to inherit the castle. So Raoul became a pirate and plundered the sea of its treasures, especially those fat Spanish galleons.”

  Smiling, Max said he liked Raoul the Pirate very much but grew frustrated trying to light candles. “It’s too dark. I don’t like it.” Snapping his fingers, he cursed in his patrol of the chamber. “Timas is late and I�
�m hungry. Are you hungry, Daphne? He should have brought dinner by now and we need fresh candles, too.”

  Night descended and my heart sunk with the last ray of fading light. “Perhaps nobody is coming?”

  “Oh, no,” returned my companion. “They never forget.”

  I failed to share his confidence. Throughout my story, I’d endeavored to keep my spirits up by examining the room and its contents, looking for anything useful that might break down the door. That door was the only way out.

  “Don’t look so glum,” Max grinned. “They’ll come. You’ll see.”

  “Have you ever tried to get out when they bring the food?”

  Max stared at me. “Get out? Why should I want to?”

  “If Raoul the pirate came for you, would you go?”

  A slow smile formed on his lips. I took the answer as yes as I stationed myself by the door. “I think someone’s coming,” I whispered, poised and tense, clutching the letter knife in my right hand. My heart raced ahead. Could a girl of my strength attack a man like Timas? Shaking, I knew I’d have to try to attack.

  What sounded like keys jingling scathed my ears.

  I swallowed hard. I could hear Timas’s heavy breathing through the door. Any moment, he’d insert the key…

  Max leapt to the door just as it opened, barring my way. Sliding to his knees, he beamed up at me as a tray slid at our feet and the door promptly closed.

  I shut my eyes, crushed. There would be no opportunity of escaping tonight. Joining Max on the floor, I wondered if Davis had drugged the food. Unlikely, considering he thought me safely locked up for the night with Max.

  In the cool of night, after we’d consumed the morsels of flat bread, cheese, and some kind of preserved meat ration, Max said, his voice barely above a whisper: “Daphne, do you think Raoul the pirate will visit us?”

  “I hope so, Max,” I replied, not allowing myself to believe it. “I hope so.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Crows pecking at the window awoke me.

  Shivering with the morning chill, I wrapped the old blanket tighter around me and drew to the light. Dawn bristled forth, and Max slept fitfully. Observing the spasmodic jerks, I guessed his body craved his next drug installment and I prepared for Davis’s return.

  I had no idea of how early he came in the mornings, but I imagined routine played a part in maintaining order. Keeping Max prisoner and in good humor suited Davis. It would have been much kinder to have killed him, I thought. What motivated Davis to keep him alive? Did he taunt Max? Or did Max’s utter dependency fulfill him in some demented way?

  “It’s a friendship you cannot understand,” Davis said, having brought Timas along to secure his entry into the tower. “Max is nothing without me. I have made him who he is.”

  “A drug-dependent crazy man?”

  Davis sent me a wearied look. “He would have died years ago if I hadn’t saved him. His life has always belonged to me.” Smiling, Davis administered Max’s medicine through a needle. “It’s empowering to have complete control over a life. I planned Max’s demise as meticulously as I planned his success. He won the medal because of me. He won Kate because of me. But he abused his success and so must pay the price.”

  “It’s a game to you, isn’t it? And Kate is the prize.” His expression changed and I raised a brow.

  “Some of the value of a prize loses its shine over time.”

  His words chilled me.

  “We’ll breakfast up at the boathouse to discuss your future. There…better, Maxie boy?”

  A serene glow emanated from my fellow prisoner and my spirits sank.

  “Sorry, m’dear.” Davis seized my hands. “Precautions are necessary.”

  “The rope burns my hands,” I complained weakly.

  Hauled to my feet, Davis shrugged. “It cannot be helped.”

  Lured by the promise of a good breakfast, Max thrust out his hands for Davis while grinning at me. My spirits sank further as Max’s hands were bound by the same rope as my own. Downcast, I complied when Davis tugged the rope. Sunshine beckoned and I closed my eyes when its warmth touched my face.

  “Steady now,” Davis ordered.

  I gazed down at my feet. Hope deserted me. The Major mustn’t have received my note otherwise he’d be here. He would have rescued us by now.

  Flinching at a jab at my side, I glared at Max. He had a dumb founded expression on his face as though trying to comprehend why I wasn’t happy. I gazed wistfully out to sea.

  “Raoul the pirate?” Max whispered.

  “No time for pirates now, Max,” Davis snapped.

  Disappointed, Max whistled his way up to the boathouse. I shivered. The boathouse appeared eerie in the pale light as Timas went to prepare breakfast.

  I must have looked terrified, for Max stepped in front of me to squeeze my hand.

  “We must escape,” I murmured urgently as Davis barked orders to Timas. “Raoul is coming for us.”

  “Now?” Max asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

  “Yes, now.”

  Hauled into the boathouse, I waited for the information to sink into his drug-induced head.

  “Sit down, you two. Breakfast is on its way.”

  “So is Raoul,” I expressed, spurring Max to action.

  Davis whipped around as Max’s fist thumped him to the ground. The hit was hard but Davis was an agile man. He shot to his feet, only to receive the second of Max’s punches.

  “Quick,” I said. “We must run.”

  I didn’t want to think about Timas. I prayed he hadn’t heard us from the back of the shed, but it was only a matter of time before Davis’s moans alerted him.

  Running out the door, Max managed to rip the rope from his hands as we stumbled down to the beach, spiraling down the narrow, steep path, not caring whether we slid as long as we reached the bottom.

  “No sign of the Liberty.” Max surveyed the scene. “But wait, I think there’s a boat!”

  I squinted into the light. I couldn’t see a thing, but Max dragged me into the freezing cold water. His strength surprised me. I faltered, gasping for breath.

  “We’ll have to swim,” he yelled, pulling me to him. “Hold on to to me. I’ll take us.”

  My feet left the bottom and I kicked hard. I wanted to help but I wasn’t a great swimmer and my hands were still tied. My urge to get away from Davis, however, provided enough motivation, especially when we heard the call from the island.

  It was Davis. Up on the headland.

  “He’s coming,” I said to Max.

  I darted a look whilst wading through the waters. Max hadn’t lied. There was a boat. Swallowing a mouthful of water, I dared not glance back but I heard Davis plunge in after us after firing a shot.

  “See, it is Raoul the pirate! Your stories do come true.” Laughing for joy, ignorant of Davis and his gun gaining on us, Max propelled us to the boat.

  Another shot fired and Max slumped, his grip slackening. Ducking underwater as another shot fired, I saw the blood swirling all around us, Max’s arms growing limp beside his body as he floated away.

  He pulled me with him and my terror began. I had to free my hands of my rope or I would sink to the bottom of the ocean. Kicking relentlessly, I thrust the rope knot binding my hands to the pocket of my skirt where I located the knife, praying I didn’t stab myself. I took a few turns and desperation clouded my judgment. My weight kept dragging me down and my legs grew tired. Where was the boat? Maybe they wouldn’t get to me in time? I tried again, this time not caring if the knife jabbed my hands. Salt water stung my eyes. I couldn’t see but I think I felt the rope finally giving way.

  My lungs sent me upward. Spitting the seawater out of my mouth, I searched for Davis. And there he was, his deathly grip around Max’s throat as the two silent corpses floated lifeless, once childhood friends, now companions in death.

  I bobbed there in the water, hearing the boat powering to me. The Major rode at the helm with Sir Marcus behind him. I c
ould have wept for joy, and in my weak relief I floundered, the seawater filling my lungs.

  I remember no more.

  Waking up amongst fluffy pillows, snug, warm, safe, and dry, I gulped down the warm liquid spooned to my lips.

  Kate mopped my brow while the Major administered the medicine. It tasted sweet and strong…like brandy.

  “Is she awake?”

  His head poking at the door, Sir Marcus trudged in.

  I didn’t recognize the room. I could still taste the salt in my mouth. I must have half drowned, I concluded, still bleary-eyed and hazy from the experience. I refused any more spoonfuls. My head swam and pounded and felt heavier than a boulder.

  Breezing over to me, Sir Marcus clapped a solid hand to my shoulders. “You’re a brave lass, a little foolhardy, it must be said, but a heroine nonetheless.”

  A heroine. I managed a wan smile. “You took your time. I might have drowned.”

  “Not the heroine I know.” Taking my small hand in his, the Major caressed it with his thumb.

  I wavered at the tender look in his eyes. “Is Davis…?”

  “Dead, yes.” Sir Marcus perched himself on the opposite side of my bed.

  The Major answered my next question for me. “They both drowned. We managed to drag Max safely onto the boat but Davis sank to the bottom of the sea.”

  “A fitting end for a villain,” I heard myself murmur before I recalled Kate’s presence in the room.

  “It’s all right,” her soft voice assured me. “It is best it ended this way. Max has his peace now and so does Davis. Poor Peter…I never knew….”

  “Angela? Does she know?”

  “Rod has gone to obtain her release and bring her to you.” She shuddered. “I still can’t believe that Peter—I can’t believe all that he did. It’s so wicked, so unlike him.”

  “Desperation breeds dangerous men,” the Major advised.

  “Thunder ’n turf, you have it all wrong!” Sir Marcus waved a hand. “The man’s a complete madman. Where’d he get that body, that’s what I’d like to know.”

  “He purchased it,” I said, relaying what Davis had told me. “It seems you can buy anything you want in those dark London alleys. Poor unfortunate wretch, whoever he is.”