Slowly I opened my eyes.
And then the horror of it hit me! It was hay I smelled, straw I felt against my cheek. And the dark shape that loomed over me was a horse! The big black stallion that Edward had recently purchased, the horse that I believed had tried to trample me on the moor!
I shrank back against the floor, choking down the scream that burbled in my throat. A horse! This was no accident. Someone had brought me here, had left me at the mercy of this great brute. Someone who knew— I could not think about that now.
I cowered against the stable wall, my limbs gone into a wild trembling. The stallion, smelling my fear, shifted uneasily, whinnying deep in his throat.
My mind raced, my thoughts in chaos. "No," I moaned. If I could have, I would have clawed my way out through the stable wall, but of course I could not. I could only crouch there, trying to think, trying not to scream.
The horse snorted and danced sideways, tossing his dark mane. Another, even worse, fit of trembling overtook me.
I tried to think. Think! I told myself sternly. I wrapped my arms around myself to still my quaking. And suddenly, in the back of my mind, I could hear Ned's voice. "Horses don't hurt you on purpose," he was saying. "The thing is they get afraid too. You have to move slowly. And talk to them. So they know you like them."
Slowly, slowly, I repeated to myself. They get afraid too.
The horse danced again, his hooves moving closer, striking the straw near my skirt with sharp, deadly blows.
"Easy, easy," I said. "Easy, boy." Slowly, move slowly.
My back to the wall, my eyes on the huge animal before me, I pushed myself slowly erect. Inch by quivering inch, I pushed myself up. The wall behind me was rough. Splinters caught at my cloak, gouged my trembling fingers, but I persisted, slowly bringing myself upright.
"Nice boy," I crooned. "You're a beauty. Such a beauty. I won't hurt you. Easy, easy now."
Finally I stood erect, my knees barely keeping me upright. Carefully, step by step, I edged toward the stall door. The stallion snorted again, moving closer to me. I froze. He was huge, a tremendous animal whose bulk stood between me and safety.
I took another breath, swallowing the scream that wanted to rip from my throat. The horse moved closer still.
I pressed back against the wall, my breath catching in my throat. And the stallion thrust his great head toward me. In the gloom I could see him bare his huge teeth. They came closer and closer.
And then, just before my knees gave way and I slid to the floor, the beast brushed my cheek with his nose. I gasped, thinking he meant to hurt me. And then he nuzzled me, slowly and carefully.
The animal meant its overtures to be friendly. It liked me!
I reached a tentative hand to stroke the big head, feeling the silken hair, the warm rippling muscle. There was a comfort to the feel of the horse, a warmth under my fingers I had never imagined.
The horse whuffled, shaking his head slightly, nosing against my shoulder. Laughter bubbled out of me—half-hysterical laughter it was true, but laughter nevertheless. Still laughing, I threw my arms around the horse's neck and buried my face in his sweet-smelling mane.
"Bless you, Ned," I murmured. "Oh bless you." The boy—and his advice—had probably saved my life. I stroked the great horse's muscled neck. "Such a beauty you are," I whispered. "Such a marvelous beauty."
I stroked the horse for a while longer, then made my way to the door and eased out of the stall. My mysterious assailant had failed again. His effort to frighten me had, instead, cured me of my fear of horses.
I brushed the straw from my clothing and turned toward the house. I wished that I could forget this latest attack on my person, but I could not. There was no possible way that this could have been an accident.
Though I might have fallen, I could not possibly have gotten into the stable by myself. Someone had carried me there, someone who knew about my fear of horses. But no one knew about that—only Ned.
I stopped on the darkening pathway to the castle, almost overcome by the terrible wave of paralyzing nausea that swept over me. Edward knew. That first day Edward had told me I would not be required to ride with Ned. Oh, Edward!
My knees failed me then, and I sank down on the cold stone walk, overcome by my fear. Oh God! Edward, my Edward, knew my fear of horses.
I buried my face in my shaking hands. Edward had been the one to benefit from his father's death. He, after all, had succeeded to the title. But why then had he married me? Why had he brought me to Grey Cliffs, to this godforsaken place? I could see no reason for him complicating his life by taking a wife.
But perhaps there was a reason, some reason I could not ascertain. Oh God, I prayed. Help me. Help me know what to do.
After my prayer, I felt somewhat better. I had no solution to my dilemma, of course, but putting my problems in God's hands had relieved my mind, at least a little.
I got slowly to my feet and prepared to return to the castle. I had made two sacred promises—the one about Ned to his father, and the other—my marriage vows—to God. I could not break either of them.
But even had I been willing to break my vows, I would not have left Edward. My life was inextricably interwoven with my husband's. And I knew, to my dismay, that I would reject anyone or anything that tried to separate me from him.
By the time I reached the castle my head was pounding horribly and my elbow felt bruised to the bone. But that pain was nothing to the pain festering in my heart.
I made my way to the library, determined to present a normal face to the world. Perhaps my reappearance, looking ordinary, would startle the attacker, cause him to give himself away.
I had about decided that my attacker must be male. Someone had transported me from the courtyard to the stable, after all—a considerable distance. Surely Cousin Julia could not have done such a thing, at least not alone. Although I had heard that demented people sometimes were capable of deeds of great and marvelous strength.
I sank down in my chair, holding out my icy hands to the warmth of the flames. As always, the heat barely reached me. The room remained chill and dank. But my heart was even colder.
As I waited for Hillyer to bring the hot tea I'd ordered, I allowed my eyes to close. I was a strong woman, determined in my purpose, but I didn't know how long I could bear up under such strain.
Though I had stopped asking questions, the attacker had not let me be. Someone still believed me a danger—and would continue to believe so until he disposed of me or I found him out.
It seemed I had only one choice—I must find the killer and expose him. But how?
Chapter Fifteen
The next day the weather turned really warm. The sun and the heat made it seem almost like spring outside. Yet the castle remained cold. Gazing out the nursery window, I shivered at the prospect of yet another day in the castle's dark environs. I simply would not do it.
I turned to the boys, occupied with the sums on their slates. "Put down your chalk," I said cheerfully. "Put on your stout walking shoes and warm clothes."
"Where are—"
"We going?" asked the twins.
"Are we going for a walk?" Ned asked, glaring at the other two.
"Yes," I replied, ignoring his bad manners. "We're going for an excursion on the moor."
The twins looked at each other and smiled.
"Captain, too?" Ned whistled for the dog.
I nodded. "Of course. We wouldn't leave him at home."
The boys were ready in no time, and, leaving Betty with instructions for ordering up a supper against our return, we set out.
As I watched the boys trudging ahead of me, I mused on the relationships between them. Ned was still the undisputed leader. That didn't bother me so much, but I still didn't care for the way he ordered the twins about, as though they existed merely for his convenience. However, I knew talking would have little effect on him. It would take something else—at the time I didn't know what—to convince the boy that friends we
re more valuable than servitors.
For some time we made our way through the twisted stunted oaks where the sun barely reached, and then we were on the moor. We had not come out where I had been the afternoon the horseman tried to trample me, but farther toward the sea. The smell of it was strong in my nostrils, the taste of salt on my tongue.
I smiled. I loved the ocean—its beauty and its grandeur. But I knew it could be capricious.
"Stay back from the waves," I instructed. "I don't want you to get wet and take a chill."
The boys nodded and began exploring the shoreline for the kinds of treasures boys are always excited by—a shell, a feather, a piece of weathered wood.
I found a big flat rock and made myself a spot on it—a nice warm comfortable spot—and prepared to spend some soothing hours in the sun.
But I had no sooner removed my bonnet and disposed my skirts nicely around me than the dog yapped excitedly and broke away from the boys, rushing off across the sand at a great pace.
"Captain! Come back!" Ned yelled after him. But to no avail—the dog just kept going.
"He's not gonna come," Peter said.
"He wants that rabbit," Paul added.
Ned was already chasing after the dog, disgust in his voice as he cried, "Captain, stop! Come back here!"
The boy disappeared around a sand dune, then from farther down the beach we heard his scream of terror. "Captain! No! Don't!"
The twins stared at each other with wide eyes, their faces fear-stricken.
"Help!" Ned screamed. "Help!"
The twins set off running. Gathering up my skirts, I scrambled after them, my heart pounding in my throat.
The sand seemed to conspire to impede my progress, to hold me back, but I struggled on. Once I tripped over a snarl of seaweed, falling to the wet sand on my hands and knees. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed up my sodden skirts and ran on.
Finally I came to a halt by a large mound of sand. The twins stood there, jabbering excitedly. I followed their gaze. God, no!
The dog was floundering in a pool of wet sand, sinking in it. And Ned was about to step into it, too!
"Quicksand!" Peter cried, tugging at my wet skirt.
"Stop Ned!" Paul begged.
"Ned! Wait!" My voice was hoarse. I was panting so I could hardly breathe.
But Ned ignored me. In another moment he, too, would be mired in the quicksand. "Stop!" I cried. "Stop!"
"We'll help," Peter yelled. "Lay down."
For a moment I thought the boy's mind had snapped. Paul tugged again at my skirt. "Won't sink so fast," he explained.
Peter hurried off across the sand, picking up a piece of driftwood as he went.
The dog had stopped making any noise. It struggled silently, its eyes on its master. In a few more minutes the sand would close over its shaggy black head.
"Come," Peter said, pulling at me. I followed him toward the others.
Ned lay flat in the wet sand, his agonized gaze on the dog, whose struggles were growing more feeble.
The twins dropped to the sand, inching forward. Peter pushed the driftwood before him. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached Ned.
"Captain!" the boy cried. "Please! Help him."
“I’ll get him," Peter said, inching forward again.
"He's mine," Ned cried, trying to follow.
Paul pulled him back down. "Peter knows how. He saved our dog."
"But Captain's mine," Ned cried. "I should—"
'Too many make the wood sink," Paul insisted, holding tight to Ned's jacket.
I watched, hardly daring to breathe while the boy inched slowly forward. The dog had ceased to struggle. Nothing but the tip of his muzzle remained above the surface.
Dear God, I prayed. Save the boy's dog. Let Peter get there in time.
Paul turned to Ned. "I have to follow Peter. You follow me. When I call, hold my ankles."
Ned nodded. "I will."
Peter was stretched across the quicksand, his feet at the very edge. Paul crept forward behind his brother. A chain! They meant to form a human chain to pull the dog to safety. Oh God, help them.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Peter reached the dog. "It's all right now," he said to the exhausted animal. Slowly and carefully, he worked the piece of wood under Captain, using it almost like a lever to break the suction of the sand.
Then he wrapped his arms around the animal, keeping its head on his shoulder. "Now," he cried. "Pull, but easy."
Paul took ahold of Peter's ankles and Ned took Paul's. Hastily I knelt and held Ned's. Slowly and carefully, our hearts in our throats, we eased backward across the wet sand, an inch at a time, until finally, triumphantly, Peter and the dog were safe on solid ground.
Ned scrambled over to them, tears running down his cheeks. "Captain! Oh Captain! You stupid dog!" He clasped the filthy animal in his arms.
Then, with a look that brought tears to my eyes, he turned to Peter. "He would have died. You saved him." He put a grimy arm around Peter's shoulders.
"We all saved him," Peter said.
"Couldn't anyone do it alone," Paul added.
The dog yipped weakly and licked Ned's face.
"I— Thank you," Ned mumbled.
His face told me that at last Ned had friends he valued. I turned away for a moment, dashing the tears from my eyes. "Well," I said when I turned back. "What an excursion this has been!"
The boys looked up from the dog, their eyes wide, their dirty faces split with grins.
"I think we should get back to the castle and clean up," I told them. "We'll have another outing soon."
Ned looked down at the dog in his arms. "Maybe we'll leave Captain at home."
Peter laughed. "I bet he won't chase any rabbits."
Paul laughed too. "For a long time."
For a moment I thought Ned would revert to his old behavior, but then he grinned. "If he starts chasing anything, we'll have to teach him different. We don't want to be fishing our dog out of quicksand all the time."
I saw the glance the twins exchanged, a look of almost pure joy. My own face must have been glowing with happiness. One of my prayers had been answered: Ned had found the friends he so badly needed. And the twins had found acceptance.
My hands tightened in the folds of my clammy skirt. Would my other prayers be answered? Would I one day hold my own child? I shivered, but not because my clothes were wet. Would I have a child of my own—or would my search for the old earl's murderer bring death and disaster to us all?
We reached the castle, a wet and bedraggled but thoroughly joyful little band. Up the great stairs we traipsed, past Hillyer's disapproving stare, dripping sand and water behind us.
When we reached the nursery, Betty raised a shocked hand to her lips. "Lord have mercy! You look like a bunch of drowned ghosts!"
She bustled about, ringing for hot water and towels. I left the boys, happily preparing to bathe, dog and all, and repaired to my room.
This latest misadventure, harrowing as it had been, had not lowered my spirits. It could not be laid at anyone's door, and it certainly had had a favorable outcome.
I stepped out of my sodden gown, preparing to wash off the grime of our adventure.
And then the hair on the back of my neck began to rise. Someone was watching me!
I turned, but the door to the hall was closed just as I had left it. A shiver raced over me. Who was watching me? And how?
A sound to my right made me whirl—and then relief washed over me. "Edward! How long have you been standing there?"
"Not long," he said, his eyes gone dark.
My heart throbbed in my throat, my hands went clammy. Had it been Edward's gaze I felt?
He crossed to my side. "Your excursion was rather a wet one," he said with a smile, running a finger across my bare shoulder.
As always my body responded to his touch. "Yes," I whispered, turning my face to his.
For a long moment he looked down into my eyes, his own
so heated I felt almost scorched. And then without another word, he swung me up into his arms, wet underclothes and all, and carried me to the great bed.
Later, snug against his warm body, I told him what had transpired on the beach. His body stiffened and he clutched me tighter, but he did not grow angry. In fact, I thought I detected pride in his voice when he said, "They're good boys, the twins."
I snuggled against him, relishing this moment of emotional closeness. "It's good you gave them a home," I commented.
Edward actually chuckled. "Are you trying to tell me that I have been repaid for doing a good deed?"
"Perhaps," I said. "Who's to say for sure?"
"Who indeed?" he replied, pulling me into another embrace.
* * * *
We were none of us the worse for our contention with the quicksand. Thanks to Betty's efficiency, everyone, including the dog, was bathed and cossetted, fed hot milk and cakes, and quickly recovered.
It had been frightening, but I was sure Ned had learned from the experience. And since I had forbidden him to go alone on the moor and he had emphatically agreed not to do so, I felt fairly safe on that score.
For a few days the excitement of that afternoon drove most other thoughts from my mind. But as the boys suffered no ill effects and life at Grey Cliffs returned to what passed for normal, thoughts of the old earl began again to intrude into my consciousness. I did not want to think about the old man's death. By all accounts he had been an autocratic tyrant, feared and disliked by everyone except Robert, the son who was so like him. Certainly Edward and Uncle Phillip had little good to say of him. But whatever my feelings of disgust for the old man, he had been a human being. No one had the right to kill another human being.
But it certainly seemed that someone had killed him. Else why had the attacks been made on me?
The boys wanted me to explore the secret passageways with them, but some second sense, some premonition, kept me from assenting. However, since I did not like the idea of them being in the passageways alone, I instructed Betty to stay with them whenever they left the nursery. I knew they would not risk her knowing their secret.
The Haunting of Grey Cliffs Page 12
