This she'd seen in the graveyard at Saint Lupine's: the priest with the hare, calling up the dead, dancing among the graves with the lady in yellow, and the spirits of men transformed into wolves....
All of them were victims of lycanthropy; all were victims of Saint Lupine----Sovay.
Stuck between the pages was a note that seemed to be addressed to Veronica personally: This is a copy of a mural at my wife’s house, Chateau Villeneuve. It shows the event that is the seed of all of our troubles.
Veronica glanced over at her wardrobe and recalled Rafe’s reaction to her beautiful yellow dress, now wilting on a hanger, never to be worn again. How hurt she’d been by his remarks. She'd thought it had been because yellow was Sovay's color and he couldn't bear to see anyone else wearing it. But now she knew that, for Rafe, the color had deeper, more sinister connotations. Like sulfur, fire, and brimstone.
She recalled Jacqueline’s talk of the art objects at Chateau Villeneuve: the jeweled toads, the mummified birds, the lady’s hand that, under the full moon, transformed into a wolf's paw. It smacked of black magic. Was this the message of the Bestiary, of Rafe's allusion to our origins? Was this the secret he'd promised to disclose: that Sovay came from a family of witches? And they practiced a religion of werewolves....
Veronica glanced up at the white toy horse, its bowed rockers smiling in the dark. It occurred to Veronica that the only church the twins seemed to be familiar with was Saint Lupine’s. Yet, the twins must have been baptized in full knowledge of Christ. They had to be. Everyone was.
She smoothed the frown away from her brow, turned the page, and saw the comforting image of a pure white unicorn.
Unicorn. A creature that symbolizes Our Savior that is also a demon found in the Goetia of King Solomon.
Veronica slammed the book shut. She'd had enough. What kind of man was Rafe de Grimston? Why did everything she loved have to be spoiled by all this evil? Was nothing sacred?
Screams rang out.
She leapt to the window expecting some strange creature to come crashing out of the birch grove, but saw only the two workmen stumbling up the lawn, shouting and cursing as they hurried toward the house.
“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Twig’s voice rang out.
“We won’t say Ma’am. We don’t want to say.”
“Did you put the child in the silver coffin as you were hired to do?”
“Yes, ma’am. Indeed we did. Just hurry now and find a Catholic priest.”
“Yes. Those are the chaps’ll take care of it.”
Veronica peered down through the trees where the open door of the tomb was a black hole in the mist. Rain pattered down through the leaves. Suddenly, Rafe came out of the house and raced toward the woods. She shook herself. He was carrying a gun. To a tomb.
The wind picked up. The dog barked. She waited for the sound of shots being fired but there were none. Rafe came walking back over the wet grass to the house, the gun dangling in his hand like a useless toy. He looked pale, and distressed.
“Mrs. Twig! Mrs. Twig!” Rafe picked up his pace, and vanished under the balcony. Wolfgang followed him like a furry, white shadow.
“Yes, Mr. Rafe.” Mrs. Twig’s voice was clear, as if she’d stepped outside to greet him.
"The men didn't finish the job."
"Oh, the superstitious louts!"
"Can you blame them? What is the moon doing tonight?"
"It's to be full, sir."
There was a long pause. Veronica searched the sky and saw the clouds were clearing: a sure sign that the moon would be full. All too soon!
Rafe's voice drifted up with an edge of despair. “You'll have to lock me in the tower tonight.”
"No, Mr. Rafe!"
"Don't argue with me. There've been too many slip-ups already."
“What about the children?”
“We’ll have to take our chances.”
"I’ll put them in the safe rooms. Miss Everly will see to it the door stays locked.”
Someone was coming up the stairs. There was a knock on her open door. Veronica went to answer it, and found Mrs. Twig holding a set of keys.
“We shall be keeping the twins in the rooms upstairs tonight, Miss Everly. Once they’re in, we shall lock the doors. Under no circumstances, unlock them. Even if you think all hell is breaking loose. Especially then.”
“Of course. May I ask why?”
“I wouldn’t,” said Mrs. Twig.
Forty-Four
The long case clock gonged five. The winter twilight deepened, and the bald crown of the moon rose above the yew hedge behind the ruined chapel.
The twins were still out playing. Anxious to find them before night set in, Veronica donned her cloak, pulled up the hood, and slipped out into the wet garden. No longer falling, the rain froze the air to frost and the cold was penetrating. The twins could catch their deaths in this.
The door to the walled garden on her right was open; the twin's high, clear voices pealing out. Veronica hurried over, stopping just inside the door. They were running around a small deer that had gotten cornered behind the ash tree. The twins were snarling at it, laughing. One of them lunged at the deer.
"Jack! What are you doing? Stop that at once!"
Snarling, the twins circled away from the deer and, hands crooked like claws, ran toward Veronica.
"Grrrrrrrrrrrr..."
Their light green eyes focused on Veronica, fiery yet blank, as if their spirits weren't there. She held up her hands to ward them, off. They swiped at her skirts, laughed, then skidded away, back toward the deer. Bucking, the deer leaped free and almost ran Veronica over to get out the door. The twins stood together, staring past Veronica through the door. The blank look in their eyes was frightening.
"Jack, come inside. Please."
Running at top speed, the twins flew past her into the yard.
Dazzled and dismayed by the twins' transformation, Veronica turned in time to see them running toward the birch grove, then disappear into the trees.
She bolted.
The lawn seemed to go on forever. How far would she have to go to get away from Belden House?
She arrived under the tower with a terrific pain in her side. She'd run too fast. Couldn't breath. Her corset was too tight. Her head was spinning. She stopped and pushed her hands into her side to keep from blacking out. All the trauma of her struggles with Tala came back full force. The violence. The attacks.
The twins were cursed.
Pain eased, Veronica hurried down to the gate. Footsteps crackled behind her. Who was there? She picked up speed, pushed on the railings of the gate; fell against them.
The gate wouldn't open.
Footsteps were coming closer.
She rattled the bars and screamed.
"Miss Everly, what are you doing?" Rafe's voice thundered at her back.
Veronica spun around. Rafe's shadow loomed, dark and menacing against the moonlight. He stretched his long arms toward her.
"No! No! Get away. Get away!" Veronica shoved hard at the gate, but it wouldn't budge. "Who locked this gate?" She pounded on the bars.
Rafe grabbed her arm.
"Let go of me!"
"Where do you think you're going? Get back inside. Can't you see it’s getting dark? Look at the moon, woman!"
Veronica looked from Rafe to the sky and saw the full moon glowing above the trees.
"You must get back into the house,” he shouted.
“No! I’m leaving. I’ll not stay here for one more day!” She tore out of his grasp, quickly unlatched the gate and slipped through.
Rafe strode toward her, his long legs taking one step to her three. “You will come back, if I have to carry you."
He was on her fast, arms around her waist, picking her up off the ground. Her heart heaved painfully against her ribs.
"Let me go! Let me go!"
"It's not safe for you out here."
“It's not safe for me in there.”
She bit
him and broke away, only to trip over the hem of her cloak. Rafe flew at her. Next thing she knew, he was picking her up like a sack of flour, and carrying her back into the house. Surprised at her own fury, she kicked and bit him all the way upstairs to her rooms.
He shoved the door open and dropped her on her bed.
“If you leave this room, I shall have you locked in," Rafe shouted. "Do you understand?”
His face was furious. He meant every word.
"All right," Veronica said quietly.
He stared at her for a moment as if trying to gauge her truthfulness, then looked at his hand. She'd drawn blood.
"You were that horseman on the moor, weren't you?" she said, watching his eyes narrow and grow cold. "You were the one who raised his whip to me."
Rafe glared at her.
"You weren't in France, were you? You'd come back."
The set of his mouth was grim. "All right, all right, all right. So I warned you off. You should have left and spared us all this..."
"Spared you what?"
"Your witnessing of us. None of this was meant to be seen. None of it! Especially by outsiders..."
"Then I shall go." Veronica stood up, but Rafe would not let her pass. "Get out of my way," she insisted.
"No. It's too late now. You're not leaving. Not now. If it's the last thing I do, I will keep you here."
"Am I your prisoner then?"
The look on Rafe's face was stormy, frightening. She tried to push past him. He raised his hand as if to strike her, then dropped it, fist clenched to his side.
“Very well,” Veronica said, sitting back down on the bed. "Just leave me."
He turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.
She’d stay in her room for now, but tomorrow morning, she’d be gone.
Forty-Five
Veronica paced up and down in front of the fire. Her thoughts whirled around one painful issue: Rafe was dangerous. He had a split personality, one side caring and warm, the other----violent. Cruel. Perverse. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
And the twins... Little monsters!
She must find a way to leave Belden House without being noticed.
The clock gonged six times. Veronica stepped out onto her balcony in time to see the twins walking, one behind the other, with a long branch balanced between their shoulders, and tied to that branch by its hooves, was the dead deer. Their white clothes were spattered with blood.
They'd been wolves.
It was horrible.
Enough!
With stately, ceremonial strides, the twins disappeared under the rim of her balcony, and entered the house.
Afraid she would fly apart, her fear of Rafe clashing with her need to get out, Veronica circled her room, then hurried to her door and turned the knob.
It was locked.
She put her ear to the door and listened to the twins coming up the stairs. She imagined them passing her door, blind as automatons, unaware that their father had locked her in. She heard Wolfgang panting along behind them; his tail thumped against her door.
He'd found his pack all right.
A key was turning in the lock. Veronica backed away warily as the door swung open.
The glare of candlelight preceded Mrs. Twig into the room. Flaring candle branch held aloft, she gaze was level, her posture commanding.
“Miss Everly.” A very old looking key dangled from her hand.
Veronica narrowed her eyes at the housekeeper. “Yes?”
“The children are changing their clothes. When they are finished, I want you to come with us to the safe rooms upstairs.”
“The room with no windows.”
“Yes.”
Veronica backed away. "I'll not be locked in. Not up there."
"You won't be. It's Jack who must go in. I need your help tonight." Mrs. Twig gave her a look the suggested the reason should be understood without saying.
“But I can’t, Mrs. Twig. Mr. Rafe expressly forbids me to leave my rooms.”
Mrs. Twig scowled. “He must have been in a tizzy. He knows we need your help tonight.” She went around the corner to Jacqueline's closed door and called. “Jack, are you ready yet?”
A muffled shout of almost came back. Scowling, Mrs. Twig returned to Veronica.
“What do you need me for, Mrs. Twig?"
"To see to the children."
"To see to what? Why?"
Mrs. Twig's breath stuttered. She looked down as if her stomach were upset.
Veronica pressed on. She was tired of her questions being evaded. "First you must tell me something. Those coffins… who died?”
Mrs. Twig bit her lip. “No one, Miss Everly.”
Veronica checked her temper. "Are you telling me that Mr. Rafe has invested in two silver coffins for no reason?"
"No, I'm not telling you that." Mrs. Twig's breath hitched. "Are you ready, Jack?" she called through the wall of Jacqueline's room.
Veronica's voice rose. "I heard Mr. Rafe order you to lock him in the tower earlier today. Why?”
Before Mrs. Twig could respond, the twins appeared, dressed in identical white robes. They looked like little angels, down to the steady, unearthly gaze of their green topaz eyes. But what kind of angels?
"We heard you quarrelling," they said as one. "Please don't."
Veronica heaved a sigh and fell back against the wall, glaring at Mrs. Twig.
“Come, Miss Everly,” Mrs. Twig said, herding the children in front of her.
Veronica balked. “Why?”
“Please come. You don’t want to know why. But you must do as I ask. You must.”
Full of misgivings, Veronica followed Mrs. Twig. Maybe she'd at least get another piece of the puzzle.
They crossed the landing, and went down the long gallery overlooking the vestibule to the stairway leading up to the third story. Their reflections in huge mirror on the end wall, looked like miniatures in a haunted doll's house.
The twins stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to look up at Mrs. Twig. Their eyes were round with fear.
“Where are we going?” they both asked, their voices strangely echoing each other.
“To a place where you will be safe. Miss Everly will stay in her rooms, at full attention.” Mrs. Twig gave Veronica a hard stare. Veronica glared back. She would not be intimidated.
“She'll not stay with us?” The twins moved closer to Veronica, clutching her skirt possessively.
“No, no, no. But she will know where you are and make sure everything is all right.”
The twins glanced up the stairs to the third floor as if they were frightened of the rooms up there.
The sounds of panting and the ticking of claws signaled the presence of Wolfgang. Veronica watched the dog approach them in the mirror.
"What about Wolfgang?" the twins asked.
"We'll post him outside the door."
"We want him inside with us." Again, the echoing effect.
"I don't think so," said Mrs. Twig,
The dog barked and trotted over to the twins. One of the twins kneeled down to hug him close.
“Why can’t they stay in their own rooms?” Veronica asked. "I'd be much nearer."
“They need to be somewhere safe, Miss Everly.”
Safe, safe, safe, Veronica thought. “Safe from what?”
"From knocking into the furniture, breaking things. Hurting themselves." Then, as if she spoke to herself, "It may also be best that their exact location is not known. Come along children. Miss Everly?"
Veronica gave up the fight and followed the housekeeper up the stairs.
Mrs. Twig was wise to bring the candles, for the stairs grew darker as they climbed. They stopped at a corner landing where the steps turned up to the fourth floor. A large window of thick stained glass semi-brightened the back wall, and right in the ell where the back wall met the wall along the stairs, were two stone steps and a polished oaken door.
"This is the room you told me ab
out when I first arrived," Veronica said. "The one with no windows."
"Yes."
Mrs. Twig handed the candles to Veronica, unlocked the door, and guided the twins into a room that smelled as if it hadn’t been aired out in centuries.
The light struggled to illuminate the gloom, but the twins glowed like white lamps in the darkness. Rose damask glimmered on the walls around a dead fireplace. The floorboards still held the sheen of polish all the way to three tall windows glowing dimly in the curve of the far wall. A crystal chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling. Otherwise the room was empty.
"It's a tower room." Veronica whispered. "I suppose that explains the odd placement of the door."
“It used to be beautifully furnished,” said Mrs. Twig. “It was a lady’s boudoir, at one time, with a large bedstead and hangings. That row of three tall windows opens out onto a balcony. The room with no windows is inside of this one. And the secret room, just above, has a window that can’t be seen from the outside. It’s all built in a sort of... spiral."
“What happened to the furniture?” Veronica asked. It seemed a bit cruel to leave the children alone in this dismal, empty shell of a place. If any part of the house were haunted, it would have to be these rooms.
“Mr. Rafe sold it all off. He’s been forced to sell many of our treasures.”
"Not enough of them," Veronica muttered.
The twins had wandered into the windowless room. Now they came out, looking resigned. Their hands looked odd, the fingers stiff and twitching. For the first time, Veronica noticed how pointed their fingernails were.
“We don’t like being closed up in a box,” said one.
Veronica certainly sympathized. She was about to speak when Mrs. Twig flashed her a warning look.
“Now, Jack, you shall have to stay here tonight, locked in that windowless room to prevent you jumping out.”
"Jumping out?" Veronica gasped.
“No! No!” they both cried.
“We shall come up to the door periodically to make sure you are all right. Wolfgang will stand guard, but no one will come in to you until morning.”
“No one will come in here,” said one, looking into the eyes of the other. "We'll be alone."
The Lady in Yellow: A Victorian Gothic Romance Page 22
