The Blue Eyed Witch

by Barbara Cartland

It took the Marquis only a few minutes to find the nightwatchmen, instruct them to awaken Newman and several footmen and bring the two men he had left unconscious into the house.

  He ordered that they were to be bound and locked up until the morning, when he would send for the Sheriff and also interrogate them himself.

  As he hurried back to Idylla’s bedroom, he thought now that it seemed foolish that, while there were nightwatchmen inside The Castle, no one had ever thought it necessary to patrol the grounds.

  ‘Who could have imagined,’ he asked himself, ‘that anyone would wish to abduct a guest?’

  It seemed incredible that not only had an attempt been made to kidnap Idylla, but it would also have been successful if, by some strange, almost supernatural perception, the Marquis had not become aware of it in time to save her.

  He entered her bedroom to see by the light of the candles that she was leaning back against the pillows, but at the same time her eyes were watching the door for his return.

  He had deliberately not awakened Nanny, although he thought perhaps he ought to do so, because he wished to be alone with Idylla and hear what she had to tell him.

  He was sure too that he would be able to deal with her shock and fear better than anyone else.

  He crossed the room to sit down beside the bed and instinctively her hands went out to him.

  He could feel her fingers very cold and trembling in his and he knew she must be exerting great self-control not to be hysterical after what had occurred.

  “I remember – who I-I – am,” she said in a low, hesitating voice.

  “I want to hear everything,” the Marquis said soothingly. “But first, because there is no hurry and we have the whole night in front of us, I am going to light the fire because I know you are cold and ask you if there is anything you would like to drink.”

  He smiled as he said, “I feel Nanny, if we woke her, would insist on that.” “There is – some of her – lemonade with honey in it on the – side table,” Idylla stammered.

  The Marquis realised again that she was making a tremendous effort to speak normally.

  “I will fetch it and now try to relax and realise that it is all over and you are safe.”

  He smiled at her beguilingly, then went to the fireplace and where the fire was laid he found a taper on the mantelshelf, which he lit from the candles by the bed.

  The flames sprang up over the dry wood and then the Marquis found the lemonade on the side table, as Idylla had said and poured her out a glass.

  “I feel really you ought to have something hot and sweet,” he said. “Is that not always the prescription after shock?”

  She did not reply, but took the glass from him. Although her hands were shaking, she managed to drink a little before he set it down for her on the table by the bed.

  “Now tell me first what happened here,” he proposed.

  She reached out towards his hand and he took her fingers in his warm grasp and thought that no one could look more beautiful after passing through such a horrifying ordeal.

  “I must – have been – sound asleep,” she began in a voice that quivered, “because when I-I – awoke it was to find the two – men standing by the bed. One of them tied a – handkerchief over my mouth.”

  It was easy to see in her eyes what a shock it had been.

  “I tried to – struggle,” she went on, “but I think actually I was too – terrified to – move.”

  She made a sound that was like a sob before she went on, “They wound the – rope round me and what made it so – horrible was that they – never spoke. I kept – telling myself it was a – nightmare and I would – wake up.”

  The Marquis’s fingers tightened on hers.

  “I know what happened then,” he said. “They carried you to the balcony and started to slide you down the ladder by another rope, which they had attached to your waist.”

  “Yes – that is right. It was – then that I began praying – I felt – somehow that I could – reach you and tell – you what was – happening to me.”

  “I did hear you,” the Marquis said. “Your prayer awakened me.”

  “I – felt it must. I – needed you so – desperately!”

  “I think if I had not heard you, but found your bed empty in the morning, I would have gone mad!” the Marquis added.

  There was a note in his voice which sounded raw even to himself, and he added more lightly, “Or perhaps I should then have been quite certain that you were a witch and had flown away on your broomstick!”

  Idylla tried to smile as he meant her to do, but failed.

  “Now your memory has come back?” the Marquis asked very gently.

  “It was – when I saw you – hit the man who was – holding me,” Idylla said hesitatingly. “Something seemed to – clear in my mind – and when you hit the other man – I knew!”

  “What did you know?”

  “That it had – happened – before. That I had – seen a man hit – Grandpapa in – such a manner!”

  Her last words were indistinct and now the Marquis saw the tears come into her eyes. With a convulsive gesture she moved towards him so that she could cry against his shoulder.

  He held her very closely as she cried with sobs that shook her whole body.

  He could feel her trembling beneath the soft lawn of her nightgown and, as he kissed her hair, there was the fragrance of lilies of the valley.

  “It is all right, my precious, my darling!” he said. “Please don’t cry like that – I cannot bear it!”

  He felt her stiffen and knew that she was trying to control the tempest of her tears.

  After a little while, they were less violent and when they had almost ceased the Marquis drew a handkerchief from the pocket of his robe and wiped her eyes.

  “Would you rather not talk about it tonight?” he asked. “You can sleep and everything you have to tell me can wait until tomorrow.”

  “No – I want to – tell you,” she murmured. “And besides, I am – afraid I might – forget again.”

  “You will not do that,” the Marquis said reassuringly. “But tell me, if you wish to. You know I want to hear everything.”

  She moved to lie back against the pillows, but her hands sought his as if the mere touch of him gave her comfort and support.

  “It was – in the – boat,” she whispered. “We were not far from the – shore, when the – man picked up a piece of wood or a – cudgel, I am not certain which – and hit – Grandpapa on the head with it.”

  She drew in her breath before she could go on, “He slumped – forward and his hat fell off. The man – hit him – again and – again! I suppose I – screamed. Then – after he threw – Grandpapa out of the boat and into the – river, he hit me! I remember – nothing – more.”

  Her whole body shook convulsively as she was telling the Marquis what had happened and there was a terror in her eyes he had never thought to see in a woman’s face.

  “You did not know who the man was?” the Marquis asked quietly.

  “No – he came to the – farm and told Grandpapa there had been a – mistake and the person who – wanted him was on the – other side of the river.”

  It all sounded a little incoherent and after a moment the Marquis suggested, “Start at the beginning, Idylla, if it is not too much for you. Tell me first of all your name and the name of your grandfather.”

  There was a little pause, then Idylla replied, “I use my grandfather’s name, which is Salford. He was the Vicar of Gore, which is a village not far from Goldhanger.”

  “Goldhanger?” the Marquis exclaimed. “That is on the other side of the river.”

  “Mama and I had lived in the Vicarage with – Grandpapa ever since I can – remember and when Mama – died there was only the – two of us.”

  “You say that you use your grandfather’s name,” the Marquis enquired. “You do not know your father’s name?”

  “It sounds – strange,” Idylla replied,
“but I have never – heard his – name!”

  “But you knew him?” the Marquis asked.

  “Yes – but he died when I was eight years old.” “Before that, did he live with you at the Vicarage?” Idylla shook her head.

  “No – but he used to come and see us very often – yet – ”

  Her voice ceased as she appeared to hesitate.

  “Yet what?” the Marquis prompted.

  “I think there was some – mystery about him. Mama did not – explain and when I was a child I could never – understand why Papa did not live with us as – other children’s fathers did.”

  She paused and then she added, “I only know that I loved him very much and, when he died, I thought Mama’s heart would break – she was so desperately and miserably unhappy.”

  “But she still did not tell you who he was?”

  “Once I asked her,” Idylla said, “and she answered, ‘all you need to know, Idylla, is that your father was the most wonderful man in the world. We loved each other and we both loved you, my dearest. I used to pray that we could all be together, but God has taken him away and we must accept it as God’s will’.”

  Idylla gave a little sob.

  “When she said that Mama cried and so I thought it best not to talk about Papa anymore.”

  “Now tell me what happened the night your grandfather was killed,” the Marquis asked.

  “It was quite late in the afternoon,” Idylla replied, “when a boy came to the door to say that grandfather was wanted urgently by someone dying on Osea Island.” “There are not many houses on the island,” the Marquis remarked.

  He knew Osea Island well. It was very small and situated where the river widened.

  “I know. There are only two cottages and a farm,” Idylla said. “The inhabitants belong to Grandpapa’s Parish.”

  “How did you get to the island?” “There was a boat waiting for us at Goldhanger Creek and someone to row us across.”

  “Why did you go?”

  “I forgot to say that the boy asked that I should accompany Grandpapa so that I could look after the children while he ministered to the woman who was dying.”

  “Did you often do that?” the Marquis asked.

  “If it was necessary,” Idylla answered. “In the small cottages, if the children were noisy or crying, it was impossible for Grandpapa, who was rather deaf, to hear what the ill person wished to say to him.”

  “I can understand that.” “We set out together,” Idylla went on, “and as the boy had said it was a case of urgency, I just put my thick cloak over the gown I was wearing.”

  She gave a little sigh.

  “I did not think we would be away from home for long.”

  “Did you tell anyone where you were going?” the Marquis asked.

  “There was no one to tell,” Idylla answered. “There is a woman – Mrs. Laver – who comes in to clean the Vicarage in the mornings, but I always prepared Grandpapa’s evening meal myself.”

  “So you set out expecting to be back within an hour or so,” the Marquis prompted.

  “All I took with me was some soup for the sick woman,” Idylla said, “and some strawberries which I had picked from the garden for Grandpapa’s supper. I thought they might keep the children quiet.”

  “What happened when you reached the island?” the Marquis asked.

  “We went up to the farm, which was where I thought the boy had said we were expected,” Idylla answered, “but they said they had not sent for us.”

  “That must have been a surprise,” the Marquis remarked.

  “It was,” Idylla agreed, “but they were pleased to see Grandpapa and asked him to sit down by the fire. One of their sons ran to the cottages to find out who was ill. It was then that – he came to the – door!”

  Idylla’s fingers trembled and the Marquis knew by the expression in her eyes that this was the man who had attempted to kill her.

  “What did he look like?” he asked.

  “He was dark with rather a long nose and an educated voice. I could not see him very well as he did not come in and wore a hat pulled down low over his eyebrows.”

  “What did he say?” the Marquis asked.

  “He said that there had been a mistake and the woman who was ill had been taken to the mainland and would Grandpapa come at once?”

  “You did not ask him any questions?” the Marquis enquired.

  “He seemed to be in such a hurry. I think, too, that Grandpapa thought we were wasting time if someone was dying. So we hurried away, the man walking quickly ahead of us to where there was a boat.”

  “A different boat from the one in which you had been brought to the island?”

  “Yes. It was a slightly bigger one. We got into it and he began to row not as I expected to Goldhanger Creek, but across the river!”

  “Did you ask him where he was going?”

  “I was sitting in the bow and Grandpapa was between me and the man.”

  She thought the Marquis looked surprised and she explained, “Grandpapa was very active. He picked up the second pair of oars and sat down in front of me. ‘I will give you a hand,’ he said to the man, ‘it will not take so long’.”

  “Your grandfather said nothing about rowing South instead of North?”

  “He might have,” Idylla replied. “It seems stupid of me, but I cannot remember. I was worrying because I had left the soup and the strawberries behind at the farm because the man who had come to the door was in such a hurry.”

  There was a little wrinkle between her eyes. “Now that you mention it, I think they must have spoken, because I remember thinking that he did not seem to have an Essex accent and that he spoke like a gentleman.”

  “Tell me what happened,” the Marquis said gently.

  “I have told you. When I looked over my shoulder, I could see in the dim light just before nightfall the outline of the riverbank. Then, as I turned back again, the man was standing up to attack Grandpapa.”

  The tears came again and now she shut her eyes as they ran down her cheeks.

  “It was – horrible! Ghastly! I could see Grandpapa putting up his – hands and then being – thrown into the – river. I could – hear the sound his – body made. The water splashed on my – cheeks and all over my – cloak.”

  The Marquis put his arms round her and held her close again.

  “It’s all over now,” he said, “and I think your grandfather would be glad that although he died you survived.”

  “But whoever – murdered Grandpapa is still – trying to – kill me!” Idylla whispered.

  The Marquis knew this was irrefutable. There was no other reason why Idylla should have been abducted from The Castle unless the murderer was determined she should not live to tell what happened.

  He wondered in fact why the men who had gone to such trouble to abduct her had not just killed her when they entered her bedroom.

  Then he thought that despite the ever-mounting number of crimes that were enacted in England every year, it was not easy to find men prepared to commit murder when the penalty for doing so was the gallows with no chance of a reprieve.

  Thinking it over, he was sure that once the men, who were rough uncouth types, had taken Idylla away from The Castle, the man with the educated voice who had killed her grandfather would have disposed of her as he had meant to do the first time he had hit her.

  The whole plan seemed, the Marquis thought, like a puzzle that was beginning to take shape and become a picture that he could see more clearly.

  But he did not wish to upset Idylla any more than she was at the moment by telling her about it.

  Although she was still crying against him, she was warmer than she had been before and the fire flickering in the grate was casting a golden glow over the room.

  “We may be able to find out tomorrow a great deal more than we know now,” he said. “But now I want you to try and sleep. If you do not do so, you will not be able to help me and I need your help.
”

  “How?” she asked.

  “I am determined,” the Marquis replied, “to bring to justice the man or men who are responsible for your grandfather’s death and who have injured you!”

  “I can – help you?” Her tears had ceased for the moment and he answered, “It is essential you should do so and that is why I want you to make a real effort to sleep through what is left of the night. But, because I think you might be afraid alone, I will stay here with you and sleep on the sofa.”

  “You will be – uncomfortable,” Idylla said.

  “I have slept in far worse places,” the Marquis answered. “Someday I will tell you about them, but only if you will go to sleep now.”

  He thought she looked worried and added, “If you prefer, I could awaken Nanny. But I feel there would be so many explanations to make to her and a lot of questions to answer. It will be far better if you will allow me to do things my way.”

  “I – would much – rather you – stayed with me.”

  “I hoped you would say that,” the Marquis replied. He rose from the bed and pulled the bedclothes up under her chin.

  “Shut your eyes and try to go to sleep,” he said, “otherwise you will feel ill and be useless to me tomorrow.”

  “I – want to – help you,” Idylla murmured.

  She turned over like a child and put her cheek against the pillow.

  The Marquis tucked in the blankets and, resisting an impulse to kiss her cheek, blew out the lights in the candelabrum.

  He lay down on the comfortable satin sofa which stood on one side of the fireplace.

  He told himself as he did so that he would wake at six o’clock so that he would have left Idylla’s room long before there was any chance of Nanny coming in to see how her patient was.

  When he was in the Army, the Marquis had trained himself to wake up at any time he wished. And he knew as he closed his eyes and relaxed his body that he would be awake at exactly six o’clock.

  There was a great deal he wanted to think about, but he deliberately stopped his mind from working, because he was determined to be at his most alert and intelligent the following day.

  The mystery over Idylla was gradually unravelling itself, but there was still a great deal more to discover.