"And when they arrive," Matilda cried, "you won't be able to stop them, because when people take their orders from Papa they're too scared of him to disobey."
"But this is my house," John said.
"That won't make any difference. They're not scared of you, they're scared of him."
Matilda's voice rose to a note of hysteria.
"You think you can fight him, but you can't. Nobody can fight Papa. We might as well give in now."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cecil took Matilda into his arms, soothing her after her hysterical outburst. When she had finished sobbing she managed a smile and wiped her eyes.
"Sometimes I can't help doing that," she explained shakily. "I mean to be strong and brave, but then I remember how powerful he is, and how he can be everywhere at once."
"Please ma'am, don't talk like that," John begged. "You sound like Rena. According to her he divided himself into two this morning, then merged back and vanished."
"John, that's most unfair," Rena protested. "It was an illusion, because I was upset."
"But what did you see?" Matilda asked, wide-eyed.
Rena again described the incident, but this time leaving out the part where Wyngate had tried to make her his mistress. And she tried to make light of the 'appearance' of his double.
But it was no use. Matilda's eyes were wide with horror.
"You've seen it too?" she whispered. "And so have I."
"Matilda, my dear," Cecil chided her lovingly. "That cannot be."
"But it can. It's how Papa spies on people. When I was a little girl, in the park with my governess he used to divide himself and appear, although I knew we'd just left him at home. He would stand there watching me, and then disappear."
"Did your governess see him?" Rena asked.
"No, she always said I was imagining things."
"Did you tell your father?" Rena asked.
Matilda solemnly shook her head. "I was too scared. He must be very determined if he's started doing this again."
"For the love of heaven, both of you," John said in alarm, "you talk as though this fantasy was real, but it can't be. There simply has to be a rational explanation." He scratched his head. "I only wish I could think what it was."
"We're probably both so un-nerved by him that we've started hallucinating," Rena said, with an attempt at cheerfulness.
"But that wouldn't explain why we hallucinate the same thing," Matilda pointed out. "It must be real."
"Then there is a common sense explanation," John said firmly. "In the mean time we have to stop frightening ourselves.
"Of course," Cecil said bravely.
"Yes." Matilda gave herself a little shake, as though pulling herself together by main force. "We will not be beaten."
"We're going to find a way to be together," Cecil promised her. He looked up at the other two. "But we badly need your help."
"You promised you'd help me," Matilda reminded Rena.
"And I will. But what do you want me to do?"
"Let Cecil hide here. He has nowhere else, and Papa mustn't see him. I must hurry back to the hotel before he finds me missing. He thinks I'm lying down."
"Of course he may stay here," John said at once. "But what is your plan?"
Cecil looked helpless. "While I'm here, I'll see as much of Matilda as possible and - something may happen," he said.
John, the man of action, refrained from giving his frank opinion of this as a strategy, contenting himself with saying mildly, "Perhaps something would be more likely to happen if you gave it some assistance."
"Yes," said Cecil at once. "But how?"
"Please don't fight with Papa," Matilda pleaded with John.
"Tell him not to fight with me," John said at once.
"I mean, when he turns up here, don't send him away. Let him come in and look round as if you were prepared to consider his ideas."
"You mean let him think I'm in the market for his daughter?" John demanded bluntly. "How will that help you?"
"Because if you throw him out he may drag me back to London, and it's much harder for Cecil and me to meet. But when he comes here I can come with him, and then I shall be able to see Cecil."
John looked helplessly at them and from them to Rena.
"I don't like this idea," he said, "but I can't think of a better."
Rena also was uneasy, but she could see no way of refusing. And the more the bonds between Matilda and Cecil were cemented the easier it would be to thwart Wyngate.
"Please come with me," she said to Cecil, "and I will find you a room."
He followed her upstairs and she put him in the room near John's, where it would be easy to keep him under observation.
"You probably think I'm just after Matilda's money," the young man said. "But I do assure you that I'm not. She's such a wonderful girl."
He was a very plain young man, and some girls would have found him uninteresting. But when Rena saw the love light shining from his eyes as he spoke of his beloved she could see exactly what the lonely Matilda found in him to love.
"No, I promise you I don't think that," she assured him kindly. "Besides, I think you know by now that you probably won't get his money."
"Oh I do hope not," he said earnestly. "That would be much better. Of course I want Matilda to have a comfortable life, but I can support her, and she swears to me that she doesn't care about luxury."
He gave a self deprecating laugh.
"You probably think it's naïve of me, to believe her. Easy to say you don't care for luxury when you're surrounded by it. She might feel different later. But I don't think so. She's never had anybody who loved her. Her father only cares about making use of her. But I love her, and she knows it."
"I believe you. How did you two meet?"
"I'm an architect. Mr. Wyngate wanted his own house in London transformed - bigger, grander, more luxurious -"
"I can imagine."
"She was there - the sweetest girl alive - and we talked, and talked. And we fell in love. We planned our future together - I was doing well in the firm, there was a chance of a partnership."
He sighed. "But then he found us together, and the sky descended on us. I have never seen a man so lividly angry. He had me thrown out of the house bodily, there and then, and locked Matilda in her room for a week.
"He demanded that she promise never to see me again. When she refused I was waylaid on a street corner by thugs, and beaten until I nearly died."
"Sweet heaven!" Rena murmured, appalled.
"I was taken to hospital and she was brought to see me there so that she could witness the results of her 'disobedience'."
Rena buried her face in her hands.
"She gave him that promise," Cecil said. Then he looked at her closely. "Matilda says you're a parson's daughter, Miss Colwell."
She raised her head. "That's right," she said huskily.
"Will it shock you very much if I say that neither Matilda nor myself had the slightest intention of keeping such a promise?"
"Not in the slightest" Rena said in a decisive tone. "In my opinion nobody should feel bound by a promise extracted in such a way."
"Then you do not blame us?"
"I think you should get her away from him as soon as possible, and go to a place where he can't find you."
She spoke impulsively and his wry look showed that he knew it.
Some place where Wyngate's arm could not reach.
Was there such a place? As if to confirm her thoughts, Cecil added, "I said I was doing well in the firm, but since then I haven't been able to get work. Wyngate's influence stretches far, and everyone is afraid of him."
"Oh how angry I get when I hear that!" Rena flashed. "Everyone is afraid of Wyngate! We must not be afraid of him."
She finished dusting, glad of a prosaic occupation to set against the horrors in her mind.
"Let us go down now," she said, "and you can look for some books in the library to while away the long hours I'm
afraid you will have to spend up here. After what you've told me it's more than ever vital to keep you hidden."
They began to head back the way they had come. But at the top of the stairs they heard a voice that made them both start back and flatten themselves against the wall.
"It's him," Cecil said. "Mr. Wyngate."
The man's hated voice seemed to combine the cawing of a rook with the sound of a coin scratching across glass. It reached them clearly up the stairs.
"Get back to your room quickly," she murmured.
She gave him a moment to get out of sight, then descended, hoping against hope that John had not reacted badly to the sight of Wyngate, but was playing his part successfully.
She forced herself to be composed as she entered the drawing room to find Wyngate there, standing between Matilda and John, a hand on the shoulder of each.
"I was a little disturbed when I found my dear one wasn't in her room, as I expected her to be," he said, with a ghastly smile at his daughter. "But then I realised where she must have gone, and so I came to find her, and here she is. You couldn't keep away, could you, my pet?"
"It's such a beautiful house, Papa," Matilda said woodenly.
"Indeed it is. And it will be better still when I've spent some money on it."
Even from across the room Rena could sense John's struggle to keep his composure. He was doing his best to stay calm, but he moved away from Wyngate's hand and said firmly, "That still remains to be seen. I'm by no means sure that I can accept your help, sir, and I advise you against any precipitate moves."
"Don't you worry, m'boy. I know my own business best."
"I'm sure of it, sir. But it is my business we are discussing," said John in a cool voice.
Wyngate's smiled slipped a little, but only a little. He had succeeded in getting back into the house, which was his main objective. The rest could wait until these fools realised the futility of fighting him. His smile in Rena's direction contained more than a hint of a sneer.
"Why, it's the little housekeeper." He stressed the last word very slightly, as though reminding her that it was her own fault that she was still in this lowly position.
"May I bring you and your guests some refreshment, sir?" she asked John.
"None of that," Wyngate said, not troubling to ask what his daughter would like. "I want to see the tower."
"But you have already seen the tower," Rena said. "This morning - "
"Not like that. I want to go up to the roof and see it close up. I have an idea for its improvement."
"I doubt if it can be improved," John said, keeping his temper.
"Things can always be improved, young man, if it's done in the right way. That tower tells people who you are."
"But I don't need an edifice to tell people who I am," John replied quietly. "I am Lord Lansdale and I am the master here. I am. Nobody else."
At those firm words Wyngate shot him a sharp look as though scenting rebellion. John returned his gaze with a bland one of his own, but his blue eyes were hard.
"Of course you're the master here," Wyngate said at last. "Nobody doubts it. Lord Lansdale, master of his acres.
But on my money, eh? Come along, I don't want to waste any more time. You two young people take a walk in the garden together. Your housekeeper can show me up to the tower."
"No, we'll all go," John said. "As the master of the house I prefer to entertain you myself."
Rena knew that nothing on earth would have persuaded him to let her go up there alone with Wyngate.
"Then shall we begin the climb to the roof?" she asked. "It's quite difficult and tiring. And you must be careful where you walk because the roof isn't very safe. It's easy for your foot to go through."
She remembered a long time ago when she had visited this house with Papa, and the old Earl had shown her the tower. Luckily the keys hung in the same place now as then, and she fetched them quickly. A climb of three floors brought them out onto the roof.
It was the best spring day they had had so far, and the four of them stood there in the bright sun, looking at the sunlit land spread out before them.
"How charming," Matilda said. "You can see ever so far."
"Not far enough," Wyngate said. "Higher. I want to see more."
In the centre was the tower itself, a square shape, extending right from the front of the roof to the back, rearing thirty feet above them, with little turrets around the edge. Rena unlocked the door, and John led the way up the stairs, contriving to squeeze her hands reassuringly as he passed her.
After climbing thirty feet they came out into the air, gasping at the gusts of wind that assailed them. Matilda gave a little scream and clutched John. Wyngate would have given his arm to Rena but she declined and held on to the top of one of the turrets. But it immediately gave way, leaving her looking down what seemed like an endless drop to the ground.
As though time had slowed, she was able to watch the loose stone falling to the ground and landing with an almighty crash.
For a moment she was dizzy. The terrifying drop yawned before her like a descent into hell. Then she stepped back sharply, giving a prayer of thanks that nobody had been there to be crushed.
Wyngate hadn't noticed the reactions of anybody else. He was looking around him, up into the sky, then out onto the landscape.
"This is right," he said. "This is as it should be. A great man in a great house, presiding over a great estate, needs a great tower from which to survey his domain."
John tried to deflect it as a joke.
"It hadn't occurred to me that I was a great man," he said wryly.
"You will be when I've finished," Wyngate said. "At any time you can come up here and look out for trespassers."
John gave a wry laugh. "You can't see the whole estate from here. Nothing like it."
"You will have men to guard the place, if you are sensible," Mr. Wyngate remarked. "And they should each carry a gun!"
"No," Rena cried. "You can't shoot people who are just taking a little walk or looking for an escaped dog. And with all these acres, you'll never stop children climbing through the hedges to pick flowers, or watch the squirrels."
"That will stop," Wyngate said sharply: "The locals are subservient to the Squire and they will have to learn to behave themselves. Trespassers will be punished severely."
Horrified, Rena looked towards John who met her eyes, his expression mirroring her own. But he didn't remonstrate with this unpleasant man. He merely shook his head very slowly, unseen by Mr. Wyngate.
"This must be enlarged," Wyngate declared. "It must be twice the height."
"By all means," John said, "if you want the house to fall down."
"What?" Wyngate glared at him.
"In the Navy I learned that the hull is the most important part of the ship," John continued. "Everything depends on that being strong, and capable of carrying not only the rest of the ship, but everyone on it.
"If you want to enlarge the tower you should strengthen the foundations first. Then work up, strengthen and secure the roof. Then, and only then, can you think about the tower. Otherwise, the increased weight will only bring the whole thing down."
Wyngate glared. He was shrewd enough to recognise that he would look foolish challenging the Earl on this matter, but he still couldn't accept defeat graciously.
"We'll see," he grated. "We'll see. But I insist on twice the height."
"You had much better abandon the whole idea," John said. "A higher tower would be completely out of proportion to the rest of the building. In fact, even the present height is too much. It should have a few feet taken off."
"I - want - it - twice - the - size," Wyngate said slowly and emphatically.
John shrugged.
"Don't you understand?" Wyngate screamed. "You should let everyone around know that you are here, and that you insist on being obeyed."
"But I don't," John said mildly. "And I prefer to be on good terms with my neighbours."
"Ne
ighbours?" Wyngate sneered. "These are your inferiors. Never forget that."
"They are my neighbours," John said stubbornly. "I don't want them to obey me, I want them to like me."
"Like you? Who cares if they like you?"
"I do."
"Their role is to obey and yours to command. You've been a naval officer. You should know about command."
"I shall probably never know as much about command as you do," John observed. "Or perhaps the word I want is bullying?"
"You can call it what you like," Wyngate sneered. "I didn't get where I am by being a milksop. I expect obedience and I get it, or there's trouble."
He swung back to the view that stretched over hills and vales, across streams and woods, almost to the sea.
"All my life I've dreamed of this - standing on a high place and having dominion over all before me."
"I believe the devil had much the same dream," John said.
"Hah! Do you think to scare me by saying that? Do you think I don't know that they call me the devil? Do you think I mind?"
He bellowed the last words into the wind, and for a moment they saw him, arms upraised in defiance of the world. He had forgotten their existence.
"Come," John said, taking each of the ladies by the arm. "He does not need us, and we are safer below."
They withdrew quietly, walking down the stairs and leaving Wyngate there with his dreams of glory. When they came out on the ground they looked up to see him still there, standing against the sky, oblivious to his isolation.
At last he looked down and saw them on the ground, looking up at him.
"I suppose we look like ants to him," Matilda said. "That is certainly how he thinks of us. And this is how he wants us to think of him - as far above us."
"Let us simply go quietly inside," said John. "And wait for him to descend in his own time."
It took another hour for Wyngate to join them, and then he showed no awkwardness at the way they had deserted him. Probably, Rena reasoned, he thought that 'lesser folk' had simply withdrawn to allow the 'great man' to brood alone.
Certainly his demeanour when she descended supported this view. He seemed exalted.
"Come, my dear," he said to Matilda. "It is time for us to be going."
The Cross of Love Page 10
