The Whispering Rocks

by Sandra Heath

  Paul alighted almost before the Turk had stopped, turning to grab at the reins of Sarah’s mount. “Sarah, go to your room if you please, and remain there.” He reached up and helped her down and then turned to his white-faced sister. “Melissa, you will take yourself to the drawing room and await my coming.”

  Anger showed in his every movement as he helped Melissa to dismount. Sarah thought she heard a frightened little sob as the girl ran into the house, dashing past Marks, who stood aside in surprise.

  “Go to your room, Sarah, please,” Paul repeated. “I will come to explain as soon as I can.” He met her glance and she saw that there was still a kind of stunned shock in his brown eyes.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Surely she could help in some way.

  He shook his head. “You can do nothing.” He walked slowly and heavily into the house, taking off his hat and gloves and thrusting them into Marks’s hands. As he vanished inside she suddenly realized that he had addressed her by her first name.

  Sarah had not been in her room for long when a very excited Janie hurried in. “Miss Melissa’s in awful trouble ... awful.”

  Interest quickened in Sarah. “How do you know?”

  “They’re in the drawing room, her and Mr. Ransome, and he’s shouting ever so loudly. I didn’t think I’d ever hear him speak to her like that. She’s weeping and wailing, and all the servants are in the hall trying to hear what’s being said—even that miserable old Marks.”

  A door slammed and footsteps pattered up the stairs and along to Melissa’s room. Another door slammed and there was silence.

  Sarah waited, but nothing happened except for Melissa’s maid putting her head around the door and telling Janie that Mr. Ransome wanted to see all the servants in the drawing room immediately.

  Alone, Sarah went to her favorite seat by the window. A milkmaid was walking down the street with her yoke and two brimming pails of milk. From their small enclosure the three cows called after her, ears swivelling to and fro and mouths chewing steadily. Down in the courtyard she could see Martin’s brush and pot of paint where he had left them when summoned to go and see Paul.

  The wintry sun was sinking in a blaze of crimson and gold and the tor was now a stark silhouette against the sky. The air was chilly and she closed the window, pausing only to glance at the dark line of the woods, her eyes seeking the horseman, although she did not consciously realize that she was looking for him.

  Slowly footsteps climbed the stairs and approached her door. It was Paul, and she had opened the latch before he reached it. He looked inexpressibly tired and his eyes were empty as he went to sit by the fire.

  “I don’t know where to begin, Sarah, for I have discovered so much today which concerns you.” She sat down in a chair facing him and he leaned forward. “Why didn’t you tell me how cruelly Melissa was behaving toward you?”

  She smiled. “Would you have believed me?”

  Ruefully he returned the smile. “Perhaps not, perhaps not. Anyway, the truth is out now, for James Trefarrin after much deliberation decided to tell me. I am ashamed to say that my sister has been responsible for the spreading of all kinds of malicious gossip about you. Did you know that she was once engaged to your cousin, Edward Stratford?”

  “Yes, I knew, but only by accident. I didn’t know before I came here.”

  “Well, I found out only this very evening when I dragged from Melissa the reason for her behavior. She told me that she’d been about to marry Edward, then your father brought you to Rook House, telling Edward that he must marry you if he wanted to inherit anything. Is that true?”

  She nodded, coloring a little. “Yes, it’s true. It seems my father was determined at all costs to prevent Edward marrying the woman he loved. To this day I don’t know why Melissa was considered so unsuitable. And before you think too badly of me for agreeing to this monstrous marriage, I wish to say that my life would otherwise be made intolerable.... At least with money there are compensations.”

  She knew that she was coloring deeply now, but she felt the need to explain to him and was anxious lest he should think her totally grasping and only concerned with wealth.

  He was silent for a while. “I can understand, Sarah, and there’s no need for you to explain to me further, for I of all people have little right to any explanation from you. In my way I’m just as guilty as my sister of harming and hurting you, for I was willing enough to believe everything she told me.”

  He reached out and took her hand gently. “Sarah, I don’t wish to embarrass you, or alienate you, but must take that risk if I’m to tell you what Melissa has been doing. I think you should know.”

  She lowered her eyes, swallowing, wanting to know and yet afraid of what she would hear. “Then tell me.”

  “It began really when Melissa returned here last autumn. Until then she had been living with our Aunt Mathilda in London, enjoying the Season, going to balls, and so on. I was surprised when she came back, but she seemed unconcerned and so I did not press the matter. When you were sent here it was a vile stroke of luck for you, for Melissa’s frustrations boiled to the surface and she set about making your life unbearable and ripping your reputation to shreds.”

  He looked at Sarah across the dancing light from the fire. “And she very nearly succeeded, didn’t she?”

  She looked away from him, glad of the darkening shadows in the room. Outside it was dusk and the bell in the church tower was echoing across the moor. She could no longer see Hob’s Tor, for the sun had faded away behind the horizon, leaving no sign of its passing.

  Paul released her hand and she turned back to him quickly. “Sarah, I was ungentlemanly enough to mention a letter from Ralph once. Well, I must say here and now that I’ve never even seen it. When I returned here with you, Melissa told me that the letter had arrived just after my departure and that she’d opened it in case it contained some news which should be sent on to me. It was merely, she said, a confirmation that Ralph was expecting me to come to view his thoroughbred stallion. It also contained, so she said, an account of Ralph’s affair with you.”

  He took her hand again as she straightened, denial leaping to her lips. “I know now that it was a lie, Sarah, for there was no letter and Ralph never had a love affair with you.”

  He held her hand gently. “This affair with Ralph was supposed to have been a torrid matter, and he professed himself almost scorched by your fervor. He also was claimed to have known that he wasn’t alone in enjoying your favors, for you were also engaged in dalliances with several of your father’s guests at Rook House. Your name was becoming notorious, and your father an object of ridicule because of your behavior. This information is what greeted me on my return here to Mannerby, and is partly why I found it so difficult to—to ...” His voice died on a note of the utmost embarrassment as he remembered how coldly he had behaved toward her.

  “But you already disliked me even before we left Rook House. I know that’s so.”

  He was surprised, for he did not know that she had overheard him that day on the grounds of Rook House. “Well, I’ll come to all that later, Sarah, for I’m determined that you shall know all it’s your right to know.”

  He ran his fingers through his sandy hair and stood up, taking a candlestick from the nearby table and holding out the candle to the flames of the fire. Sarah watched the glow of the fire lighting his face. He put the candle on the table and sat down again.

  “Melissa was not content with that slander but had to pursue her vendetta continuously. Using her maid, whom I’ve now dismissed, she spread her vile tales around the village, and even as far as Bencombe—which at last proved her undoing. She had it said that you’d been Jack Holland’s mistress and that you’d set him against Ralph Jameson merely for the pleasure of seeing them fight over you. She said also that you’d confided in her that you were not even truly Sir Peter’s daughter, but an imposter out to gain all you could.”

  He hesitated briefly. “You were really, so you’
re supposed to have revealed, a London whore. Oh, my dearest Sarah, forgive me for saying all this.” He looked at her, his brown eyes pained.

  “No, no, please tell me everything.” Her voice was small.

  “There’s not so very much more; just the matter of the deaths of Armand and Betty. Melissa claimed that you’d told her Betty was terrified of water and that it had greatly amused you to send her across Hob’s Brook that day. That Betty’s drowning had not concerned you, nor the fact that Armand had apparently lost his life too for he ‘was just a Frenchie and so deserved to die like a rat.’ They’re gullible people and they were bound to believe her, being the daughter of the manor house.” He was silent at last.

  Sarah closed her eyes, shutting out the firelight and the shadows, and also shutting out Paul’s face as he gazed so intently and sadly at her. Now at last she knew, she understood why everyone in Mannerby so obviously disliked her. She knew too why that grotesque wreath had so offended everyone at Betty’s funeral.

  Believing what they believed, it must have seemed an unbelievably callous thing to do, sending so extravagant a gesture of grief when they all knew what she was supposed to have done. She also knew why Martin was so determined that she should not have one of Kitty’s puppies—she was too evil, too unspeakably bad. She opened her eyes and looked at Paul. “And how much of this did you know?”

  “None, with the exception of what she claimed was in the letter. I knew, well, at least I sensed, that folk didn’t like you, but I didn’t give it much thought. Sarah, I’ve said and thought some very erroneous things, and all I can say is that I’m sorry—from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry.”

  She could not think. “I must go away from here. I cannot stay now that I know what they all think—”

  “They no longer think those things, Sarah. I’ve seen to that. I’ve had all the servants together and have told them precisely what Melissa has been doing. By the morning the whole village will be eager to put the matter right with you. They’re good people, Sarah, only easily led, and they’ll be horrified to know that they were so wrong—just as I’m horrified at myself. As for Melissa, well, she leaves Mannerby tonight. I’ve told Marks to have the coach prepared and her things are being packed right now. I’m sending her back to Aunt Mathilda in London, for her to deal with her as she thinks fit. You won’t have to face my sister anymore.”

  “But would it not be better if I left tonight instead? After all, Mannerby is Melissa’s home. I’m the stranger here.”

  “No, Sarah. Melissa has heaped disgrace upon my family and it’s something I’ll find hard to forgive. I’d have sent her away to my aunt even if you weren’t here, so please don’t think that the wrong person is leaving tonight. Melissa must go.”

  He stood up and crossed the room to stare out of the window into the dark night. “There’s more, you see, and my aunt is the one to deal with it. Melissa has a lover, a man she has been meeting on the moors. Those meetings were the reason for her frequent rides.” He shook his head as if unable even now to believe he had been so gullible.

  A thought struck Sarah. “Does he have a bright chestnut horse?”

  He glanced around. “Yes. Why?”

  “Oh, it’s just that I’ve noticed a man on such a horse out there and he seemed intent on observing this house. He watches sometimes from the woods.”

  “Would you recognize him again?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’d really only recognize his horse. It’s a very distinctive animal, finely bred, very costly. As to the man, well, beyond the fact that he was most fashionably dressed, I couldn’t say anything about him.”

  Paul was gazing out of the window again, past the slowly moving branches of the ash tree. “She met him at the Blue Fox once, and James came upon them unexpectedly. It was that which finally made him decide to tell me all the rumors which had been rife in the neighborhood, both about you and about my sister’s meetings with her lover. They were very careful—Melissa probably feared that somehow Edward might hear of it and her chances of marrying him would be ruined forever.”

  “Perhaps it is Edward. After all he dresses in the height of fashion and—and he owns a horse like that.” Sarah’s eyes widened as she remembered the horse Edward had ridden to the hunt at Rook House.

  Paul pursed his lips. “I wish it was Edward, but he’s not even in England at present. Your father sent him away, probably to cool his ardor for Melissa. Edward has been attached to the Duke of Wellington’s army for some weeks now. So whoever it is that Melissa has been meeting, it isn’t Edward Stratford.”

  Sarah pondered. The man she had first seen with Melissa had looked like Armand, but the stranger on the bright red chestnut had been a taller man, better built, and very definitely dressed in the fashion.

  Paul turned away from the window, looking thoughtful, and then at last he sat down and leaned toward her. “Sarah, I think perhaps I should confide in you some of the affairs of my family, for they touch upon your own family and I believe would explain my behavior a little.”

  She drew away, embarrassed. “There is no need to tell me such private things, Paul.”

  “But there is, there is.”

  “Very well, if you’re sure you wish me to know.”

  “I am sure.” The flame of the single candle sizzled and a droplet of molten wax coursed slowly down the stem, dripping to the base of the candlestick and solidifying. Sarah watched it intently as Paul began to speak.

  “Mannerby was my property until last autumn. I was the owner and not merely the tenant. A short while after my sister’s return from London I received a letter from your father telling me that it would be in my interest to visit him immediately. I went, for the tone of his letter left me in no doubt that something serious lay behind it. He told me that he knew something about my sister which would ruin our name if it became public knowledge.”

  Sarah stared intently at the wax pool. How very like her father this sounded. She glanced at Paul then. “But what did he know? What was there to know?”

  Paul lowered his eyes. “I did not ask him.”

  “You didn’t ask him—? But why not?”

  “Because I knew what he had discovered.” Paul sighed and leaned back wearily in his chair. “There is something in my sister’s past which even now I cannot bring myself to speak of. Suffice that it never comes out.”

  Sarah conquered the urge to reach out and comfort him. He looked so tired and shaken, and so very unhappy. Her hand dropped back. “Does it concern her nurse, Mother Kendal?” she asked quietly at last.

  His eyes sharpened. “It is in the past.”

  “Forgive me.”

  “It’s not that, please believe me. You are right, and someday I shall be able to talk of it, but not yet. It is done with, over and long since set aside. Except that your father somehow came upon it all. He had a price for his silence, and the price was Mannerby. He demanded that I sell him the house and neighboring lands for a price he fixed on. It was agreed that I should remain as tenant.”

  “But that’s blackmail, Paul. He blackmailed you!”

  ‘I know it. But there would be no such crime if humankind was not so frail and susceptible. I agreed to your father’s price. I felt that I had no choice under the circumstances. He’s a very ruthless man, and determined to acquire whatever he covets.”

  “I’m sorry, Paul, sorry that he is my father and that he did this to you.”

  He smiled thinly. “Oh, he came out of this excellently—he managed to break up the affair between his nephew and my sister, and he managed to acquire Mannerby into the bargain, a most admirable state of affairs as far as he was concerned. The land here does not amount to much. It was the stud he was after and the prestige ownership of it would bring.”

  Outside in the courtyard they heard the rattle of carriage wheels on the cobbles. The swaying light of carriage lamps slanted in through the window and Sarah stood up to look out. Martin was carefully opening the gates, trying not to t
ouch the still sticky paint. Marks was supervising the loading of Melissa’s trunks and baggage on to the coach, and from the stables Melissa’s horse was led out and tethered to the rear of the coach.

  She heard the door of the room close and looked around. Paul had gone. She waited by the window and soon saw his tall figure emerge with his sister. Melissa’s emerald green skirts were silvery in the half-light and she clung to her brother’s arm, but he removed her hand firmly. His every sense of right had been outraged and now he could hardly bear to be near her. Her head was bowed miserably as the door closed.

  With a lurch the carriage moved away, out into the village street and away down the hillside. The whip cracked occasionally to bring the horses up to a good pace. Sarah watched until the darkness swallowed it.

  Melissa was gone ... and yet she felt no surge of gladness or triumph. Turning away from the window her glance fell upon the writing table where Janie had set out the paper, pen, and ink. She knew that she would never write that letter now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sarah could not face going downstairs again that night, but she had not eaten all day and felt sick with hunger. At last Janie suggested bringing a tray up to her room, and this she did. Sarah ate her solitary meal and then Janie drew the blue velvet curtains around her in the bed.

  She lay there, sheltered and warm. But sleep was elusive and she watched the small movement of the curtains as a draft stole through them, tinkling the Buddha’s head on its way. The dying fire glowed amber as it settled lower and lower in the grate, and the old house creaked occasionally, as if shifting in its own peculiar sleep.

  Across the moorland the owls hooted, flying silently through the night with large, bright, all-seeing eyes. The wind whispered over the bracken and heather, murmuring its mournful little song as it eddied around the peaks. Mannerby slept, a lonely lantern swinging on the wall of the big house, casting its light over the shivering ivy leaves. The yew trees in the churchyard loomed black against the silvery light of the moon which rose now and sent a cool grayness over everything. Far away a dog barked, and Sarah lay there listening, wide awake.