“In the end, Oscar told her himself. He was forced to do so when Felicity became pregnant, because she naturally expected Oscar to marry her at once. He was very much averse to the idea of getting married, but he put it to Nadine that there was little else he could do in the circumstances. Nadine could not bear the prospect, however. She regarded Oscar as her property, and she wasn’t prepared to let any other woman have a claim on him. And so, being Nadine, she decided to dispose of Felicity.”
Very faintly, I asked, “How did she ... ?”
“She had to wait for a suitable opportunity, but the day came when you and your mother were out of the way, Sarah—you had gone to the dentist in Barnstaple. Felicity went riding alone, and Nadine followed her, and—” Thirza broke off, and I saw that her eyes were again misting with tears. “Don’t make me tell you, I beseech you. Nadine was always so strong, she had fingers like steel. Sometimes, if she was angry with me, she used to make me cry.”
A violent shivering took hold of me. With chilling clarity, I pictured the scene on the lonely moor. My poor sister quite unsuspecting as Nadine approached her in a friendly manner. Then, suddenly, Nadine’s vicious fingers tightening around her throat...
Thirza’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way off.
“Nadine had chosen her spot near the old mine at Rockham Combe. She dragged Felicity—Felicity’s body—to the head of the mine shaft and—and—”
A very deep shaft, I recalled, already at that time long since abandoned! Nadine must have felt safe that Felicity’s poor crushed body would never be discovered
“There remained the problem of what to do about Felicity’s horse,” Thirza went on, her hands clenched tightly to her breast. “Nadine decided she would lead it across the moor, with the intention of releasing it some distance away and letting the animal find its own way home. By now it was growing misty, though not enough to hinder her, but she was dismayed when a figure suddenly came riding toward her out of the mist. It was Ned Tassell, taking a shortcut back from the bank at South Molton with the miners’ wages. Naturally, Ned was surprised to see Nadine leading a riderless horse, which he recognized at once as Felicity’s. Nadine had to think quickly. Then, in a sudden flash she perceived that this was her chance to provide a plausible explanation for Felicity’s disappearance.
She told Ned that she had heard cries coming from the abandoned mine and had found Felicity’s mare wandering nearby. She was now on her way for help, she said. He was alarmed, of course, and they went back together to the head of the old mine shaft. As Ned was leaning over, shouting down-—it required only a little push from Nadine, no more ...”
There was utter silence in the room. I tried to close my mind to the awfulness of what Thirza had just described to us.
I said: “What about Oscar—did he know?”
“No, he knew nothing, he never had the least suspicion. When I talked to him this evening he was genuinely horrified. He had always believed, thankfully, that Felicity had decided to accept second best by taking Ned Tassell for a husband, and as a father for her child. Oscar thought that Felicity had eloped with Ned to avoid the family raising objections.”
Again there was silence in the room, until Jerome said quietly, “Go on, Aunt Thirza. You had better tell us the rest.”
“Well, when Nadine got back to the house, she took some of Felicity’s clothes and things and destroyed them, to add authenticity to the idea of an elopement.”
“And the pearls?” I whispered.
“Ah, yes, the necklet. Nadine could not bring herself to throw away something so valuable. Besides, she bought it would be useful insurance, in case her true relationship with Oscar was ever discovered and they were forced to quit Farracombe. She needed a safe hiding place, and a few days later she took the pearls and hid them in the old hunting lodge, behind a loose panel, I think—I do not know precisely where.”
“The hunting lodge?” I exclaimed, astonished. “Then how did they get to the Long Gallery, where I found them?”
“That is where Ginny comes into the story again,” Thirza said sadly. “Poor little Ginny! It happened a few weeks after you and your parents had left Farracombe, Sarah. Apparently the child was upset by something or other—just a little tantrum, and she took a pony and rode over to the hunting lodge, hoping she would be missed and it would make people sorry. It seems that while she was waiting for someone to come and find her, she started to poke around—not with any real purpose, but purely out of boredom— and she accidentally came across the necklet. Not having been told anything about her father’s pearls being stolen, Ginny innocently supposed that the necklet must have been some relic of the past, left in the lodge and forgotten. Full of excitement she rode back to the house to show everyone what she had found, and on the way she chanced to meet Nadine out riding...”
My hands flew to my face. “Oh, no!”
“If only it could have been someone else,” Thirza went on, in the curiously unemotional voice she had adopted. “Nadine realized at once that she had to find some way of silencing the child, and I suppose we must be thankful that poor Ginny didn’t share the same fate as Felicity and Ned. But another mysterious disappearance would have been altogether too suspicious. Instead, Nadine made sure that Ginny would never dare to tell anyone about her discovery. She remembered hearing some of the old folktales about ravens being birds of evil, and she twisted them for her purpose, instilling the poor child with terror.”
The brass lantern clock above the mantel whirred into life, striking the half-hour. Thirza waited for the chime to die away.
“Nadine relished telling me this,” she continued slowly. “She seemed to imagine that I would applaud her ingenuity. The necklet, she told Ginny, was part of the ravens’ secret treasure, and the birds never forgave anyone who stole from them. She promised Ginny that she would take it straight back and replace it exactly where Ginny had found it. But she warned her that the ravens would never forget, and would be watching her constantly forevermore. She made Ginny swear that she would never mention finding the pearls to another living soul, and that on no account would she go near the hunting lodge again. If ever she were to say or do anything to make the ravens angry, Nadine warned her, they would undoubtedly take their revenge. The poor child must have been terrified out of her wits—just think, she was only eight years old at the time.”
Thirza had been plucking at a loose button on her sleeve. When the thread snapped suddenly she looked surprised, then, carefully placing the button on the table, she continued speaking.
“I had noticed myself that Ginny seemed to be rather frightened of ravens, but I did not realize to what extent until one day I overheard you talking with her in the Long Gallery, Sarah. I was eavesdropping, I regret to say. Oh, I don’t know how to explain—how to excuse myself. These past few weeks I have been increasingly aware that something was terribly amiss. It seemed to me that everything was building up to some sort of climax. But I couldn’t put my finger on any specific danger, and I was too much of a coward to attempt to get to the root of it. And then, after you found the pearls, Sarah, and when you told me that you believed your sister to have been pregnant, things suddenly began to make sense. Dreadful, dreadful sense. I went straight to Nadine and challenged her outright.” Thirza’s voice dropped suddenly. “Can you wonder that I decided she had to die? I acted while I had the courage. Nadine was evil—I had to stop her from causing further havoc. By killing my niece, I felt I was doing something to wipe the slate clean.”
Neither Jerome nor I could find words to answer her. Thirza stood up, swayed slightly, then took five or six firm, deliberate steps toward the door.
“Nothing important remains to be told, my dears. Needless to say, even after Ginny had found the pearl necklet, Nadine couldn’t bring herself to destroy something of such value. So she broke it up, painted the pearls black, and hid them in the mosaic set, where she felt certain they would never be identified. One remaining danger was Miss Fincham.
She and Ginny were so close that there was always a risk the child might break down and confide in her. But Nadine quickly succeeded in getting Miss Fincham pensioned off out of harm’s way. And then, by making sure Ginny was kept isolated from other young people, Nadine thought she was safe enough—even after her accident when she could no longer check for herself that the pearls had not been touched. But eventually you appeared on the scene, Sarah, and you represented a threat she had never foreseen. From the first moment you arrived back at Farracombe, Nadine schemed to be rid of you—one way or another.”
I shuddered violently.
Jerome said in a low, unhappy voice, “To think that I, too, tried to persuade you to leave Farracombe, Sarah. If you had gone away, then none of this would ever have come to light.”
“I am thankful that Sarah was so stubborn,” Thirza said. “It has put an end to the evil which has hung over this family for so long. Now, perhaps, Farracombe can be at peace once more.” She looked at us earnestly. “It won’t be easy, but try to put all this behind you, my dears. I am aware of your feelings for one another, and I hope, most sincerely, that you will find happiness together. My blessing upon you both—for what little my blessing is worth.” Her voice cracked, and I saw that she was in tears once again. “Now I must go up to my room and rest. I am feeling rather exhausted.”
“I will come with you, Aunt Thirza,” I said, rising to my feet.
“No, my dear. Stay here with Jerome. You and he must decide what is to be done.”
“But are you sure you’ll be all right?” I asked anxiously.
“Yes, Sarah. I feel calmer now. I know in my heart that what I did was the right thing. The only thing.” She turned to Jerome, her face somber. “Now it is in your hands. I am ready to take the consequences of my action.”
* * * *
Surprisingly, I slept for what remained of the night, the heavy sleep of exhaustion. I awoke to find Mary standing by my bed.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Sarah, but Rudd says that Mr. Lefevre wants to see you as soon as possible. So I thought I’d best wake you.”
The prospect of the day that lay ahead was almost beyond bearing. Wearily, I threw back the covers and put my feet to the floor.
“What time is it, Mary?”
“Just turned half-past eight, miss. I’ve brought your hot water.”
I made a hasty, rather skimpy toilet, then went at once to Uncle Joshua’s door. Rudd admitted me, and straightway left the room himself.
The old man was seated in his usual chair, enveloped in a vast tweed dressing gown. On his head, to my surprise, he wore the embroidered smoking cap which Ginny had given him for his birthday. Was this a gesture to me, I wondered, a token of his regret?
“Come and sit down, Sarah, my dear.” There was no thunder in his voice, no bite of sarcasm. For a few moments he surveyed me in silence, stroking his flowing white beard. Then he said abruptly, “Jerome has told me about the events of last night—at least, I suspect he told me only what he thought I had to know. The boy seems to think I need shielding.”
“Jerome invariably concerns himself with your wellbeing, Uncle,” I said. “Surely, you have realized that?”
“Perhaps, perhaps,” he said impatiently. “But I have not sent for you to discuss my son, Sarah. It is something else. I—I don’t know quite how to put this,,, but it appears that I gravely misjudged that sister of yours. I suppose I should have known that no daughter of my dear little Helen could be guilty of theft. Well, I apologize. There’s nothing I can say or do to put things right, except to tell you that I’m sorry.”
“It is enough that you know the truth now,” I said quietly.
“Don’t try and humor me by being so damned understanding,” he barked, with a flash of his old self. “You must hate me, if the truth be known, for what I did to your family.”
“Perhaps I did hate you,” I admitted. “It is difficult for me to see into your mind, but I daresay you honestly believed you were in the right about Felicity, and about the disagreements with my father over the mining.”
He nodded his head many times, as if by so doing he was convincing himself of the truth of my words.
“Uncle,” I went on with determination, “there is something I want to know about the Edinburgh Porringer. It was you who had it concealed in my room, wasn’t it? I do not see how it could have been Nadine—she had no one she could trust sufficiently to do it for her. But you have Rudd.”
He glared at me. “Heavens above, I had nothing to do with that! It must have been Nadine—after what I’ve heard, I could believe anything of that woman.” He breathed heavily, controlling his anger, and when he looked at me again his eyes were softer. “She is dead and gone now, my dear. Let us try to forget her, and concentrate on putting to rights the trail of wreckage she has left behind. I want to make things up to you, Sarah, if I can. And both of us—all of us—must try to see what we can do for little Ginny. A fine father I’ve been to her—I hadn’t the least idea what the poor child was going through!.”
I regarded Uncle Joshua doubtfully. Could I really take his word that the porringer episode was none of his doing? Perhaps I would never know for certain. But if he was sincere in his wish to make amends, if he truly intended taking his young daughter to his heart, then I felt I could forgive him almost anything.
Before I had time to make any reply to him, however, the door opened. It was Jerome. As he walked toward us, I saw that his face was drained of color, leaving it ashen.
“What is it, Jerome?” I asked, springing to my feet.
“Aunt Thirza. She is dead. She has taken her own life.”
I groped for the support of my chair, suddenly dizzy with shock. “Oh, how terrible! Do you mean she—she has taken arsenic?”
“No, not that.”
“What then?” demanded Uncle Joshua. “Out with it, man!”
“Aunt Thirza’s maid found her in her room a few minutes ago, and called me at once. I—I had to cut her down. She had hanged herself.”
* * *
Chapter 15
Snow had been falling all through the night. Now, as I looked from the window of the morning room, it mantled everything with a thick, soft blanket—the gardens of Farracombe, the valley, the rising slopes of the moor.
So it was to be a white Christmas!
But snow on Exmoor could bring hardship in its wake. The tough little wild-bred pomes would somehow manage to survive, but the sheep would suffer unless saved by human forethought. Yesterday, Jerome had ordered the Farracombe flocks to be brought to southern-facing slopes for the extra protection it would afford. He was out there with his men at this moment, helping them shoulder hay to feed the poor creatures.
It promised to be a happy Christmas here at Farracombe. Last year we had still been too close to the dreadful events of the previous autumn, but now the weeks and months of darkness were behind us. I felt gay, lighthearted. I longed to go outside, to run in the snow, to feel the softly falling flakes brush my cheeks. But I had promised Jerome that I would stay indoors today. I carried his child, and he was tenderly solicitous for us both.
We had been married quietly in July at the little Saxon church in the village, with a small congregation of family and close friends. We honeymooned in Paris for a month, then wended our way slowly through Normandy and Brittany. I suspected that Jerome was in no hurry to return to England, but I discovered that his reluctance was purely on my account.
“Will you ever find it possible to be happy at Farracombe, my darling?” he asked one day.
“With you, Jerome,” I answered in all sincerity, “I shall be happy anywhere.”
And so we had packed our bags and come home.
I loved the ancient house, with its mellow gray stonework and tall leaded windows. The evil which for a time had held Farracombe in its grip had come to it from outside, not from within. And now the evil was gone, and tranquillity had returned.
My father-in-law decided to plac
e complete control of the estate in Jerome’s hands and retreated to live in the warmer climate of the French Riviera. He purchased a small villa on the coast at Menton, and he has Rudd there to look after him. Frequent letters tell us that the arthritis troubles him less than hitherto. He begs us to visit him soon, and we plan to do so when our baby, his first grandchild, is old enough to travel.
There is much for us to do here. Jerome has ambitious plans for Farracombe, which he discusses with me eagerly. I think happily of the child I shall soon give him, and the sons and daughters to follow. There have long been Lefevres at Farracombe, and we shall do our part to make the future of the line secure.
Jerome and I have never ridden over to the hunting lodge in Ravens’ Valley. The time is too soon, memories too raw. But we shall do so, one day. It is part of our heritage, and we intend putting it into proper order.
There was one grim task, however, that could not be postponed. The remains of Felicity and Ned Tassell lay deep at the foot of the shaft of the Rockham Combe mine. These had to be brought to the surface and given proper burial. It was difficult, laborious work, pumping out water and clearing fallen debris. For two whole days I stayed at Farracombe Court, because Jerome would not allow me on the scene. I prowled the house restlessly, until finally he came and told me that the search was over.
Felicity and Ned now lie side by side in the village churchyard, their graves each with a plain square headstone. The ceremony was a simple one, attended by Jerome and me, and Thomas and Batsy Tassell. The gold and silver coins which had been found beside Ned in a rotting leather pouch—the miners’ wages which he was thought to have stolen—were distributed on Jerome’s instructions to the old people around about.
When we returned from the churchyard with the Tassells, Thomas drew me to one side and asked if he and Batsy could have a private word with me.
“The missus and me, us’ve been that worrited,” Thomas began. “Us want to tell ‘ee, Miss Sarah, as how it were we that took that there silver dish thing and put it in your room.”
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