‘But Father, you said to teach him a lesson’, Henry protested, sounding petulant now the heat of the moment was giving way to more rational thought.
‘I meant eject him from the house if he ever dared to show his face hereabouts. Knock him about a bit, yes, scare him a little, certainly, but I never said a word about killing. God’s blood, what are we to do?’ He began to pace the room, as if the motion would force his brain into action. ‘We’ll have to hide the body. If anyone asks, he was never here.’ He pointed at his youngest son. ‘You. Take his horse and set him loose somewhere far from here, and the rest of you,’ he fixed his other sons with an icy glare, ‘take care of the body. Then make yourselves scarce for a while, all of you.’ He glanced at his distraught daughter. ‘I’ll see to her. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll keep her mouth shut.’
Sibell turned cold eyes on him. ‘Never!’ she hissed. ‘Do you hear me? You’ll not get away with this. You’ll have to kill me, too.’
‘Don’t try my patience too far, you little fool,’ her father growled, clenching his fists, ‘or I might just do that.’
‘Hah! What do I care now whether I live or die? You’re the fool here, Father. Didn’t Godwin tell you? Your sons have just killed the only remaining son of Sir Gilbert Presseille … and my husband.’ Her voice broke on another anguished sob.
‘Husband?’ Five pairs of eyes, widened in surprise, stared at her. Their owners looked as though they’d turned to stone.
Her father was the first to recover. ‘What do you mean? Have you taken leave of your senses?’ Sibell started to laugh hysterically. Grasping her by the shoulders in a vice-like grip he shook her violently to stop the horrible noise. ‘Cease that! What nonsense are you spouting?’
‘He came here to … tell you that Sir Gilbert … has acknowledged him at last,’ she gasped, between fits of laughter. ‘He wouldn’t have asked for my hand formally otherwise. We were going to leave here anyway. We’re already married.’ The laughter turned into tears again, and she threw herself down on top of Roger’s still warm body. ‘Nooo!’
When her wailing rose to an alarming pitch, her father glanced at Henry. ‘Do something,’ he said.
Henry nodded. Without further ado he lifted Sibell forcibly off the corpse and drew back his arm. She didn’t even try to deflect the blow, just watched it coming.
The uppercut had the desired effect, instantly cutting off the noise she was making. Henry let her body slump to the floor, where she sat staring at them all in shock and mute anguish.
Utter silence reigned while their father continued his pacing for a few minutes. ‘Well, here’s a mess and no mistake,’ he said at last and turned on his sons once again. ‘What are you waiting for? Do as I ordered, and be quick about it. If need be, we’ll have to kill Sibell too, although I think there are other ways of assuring her silence. Go! Out of my sight. I’m sick to death of the lot of you. Fools, imbeciles …’
‘I had nothing to do with this. Why should I go anywhere?’ Godwin folded his arms across his chest and stood his ground for once. He glared at his brothers. ‘It was their doing, let them sort this out.’
Their father went over to stand face to face with Godwin. ‘I’m well aware of that, but we both know they don’t have the brains between them to keep themselves safe. You must get them away from here, hidden from justice, and make sure they stay that way. And who’ll believe you anyway? We’ll all swear you were part of this if you don’t do as I say.’
Godwin narrowed his eyes at his sire in a look of pure venom that seemed to shock even him, as he took a step back.
‘Listen,’ his father said, his tone slightly more placating, ‘your brothers need you now. I need you. Are you going to let us down? And I’m sure once the hue and cry dies down, you’ll be able to come back. Just keep everyone safe until I work out a way to solve this.’
‘We’ll be outlaws and if I go with them,’ Godwin nodded at his brothers, ‘it will be tantamount to admitting my own guilt.’
‘If they don’t find the body, no one can prove anything and I’ll say you’ve all gone on a journey. Joined the King for a while or some such. In fact, that’s not a bad idea. Go fight for your sovereign, then come back covered in glory. By then, this will all be forgotten.’
‘And Sibell?’
‘She’s marrying Sir Fulke. Now her husband is dead, what’s to stop the marriage taking place? I’ll see to it.’
Sibell watched and listened as if in a dream, but didn’t protest. She didn’t care what happened to her now. As far as she was concerned, her life was over.
Jake woke in a pool of sweat, tangled up in the thin sheet he’d been using as a cover. It was too warm even for that. He unwrapped it and sat up.
‘Jesus!’
His breathing was laboured and he felt as if he’d run a marathon. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony. He flexed them all and tried to relax, but it was impossible. Everything hurt. He’d been dreaming again and as before, he remembered everything with shocking clarity.
There had been a fight. Three shadowy figures with menacing leers on their dark faces had stalked him before attacking all at once. They had come from every direction, and he had fought for his life. And for his love. The words came unbidden and echoed inside his head. A knot of grief formed in his stomach. ‘I failed her!’
The voice was inside his head, the agony of self-reproach unbearable. And the pain of remembrance was a red-hot poker in his cranium. ‘I can’t leave her to their mercy! I cannot!’ Jake put his hands over his ears, hoping to make the voice go away. He didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to know. Slowly the dream faded away, and the silence returned.
Feeling the back of his head gingerly, Jake was surprised to find a huge lump which was very sore to the touch. He flinched as his fingers found the centre of it, and cursed under his breath. He must have thrashed around so much he’d hit his head on the bedside table. ‘Damn,’ he whispered.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move on the other side of the room. Straightening up, he peered into the darkness. The bedroom was large, taking up half the top floor of the house, and it was some time before he could make out anything substantial. The next breath caught in his throat as a woman emerged from the shadows, wringing her hands and weeping quietly. Melissa.
Wide awake now, he sat rigidly in the middle of the bed and stared. Ice-cold tendrils of dread spread through him and he shivered violently before looking more closely at the figure. No, it wasn’t Melissa. Could it be … Sibell? Jake shook his head. No, surely not. He was becoming as fanciful as Melissa. He continued to gaze at the woman. God, but she’s so much like Melissa.
The woman was taking shape in front of him. She was wearing something white and diaphanous. It billowed around her legs in slow motion. Her hair was unbound and floated around her body as she moved. It was very long, longer than Melissa’s. Feelings of tenderness and love welled up inside him, but somehow he knew those weren’t his feelings for this woman. They were someone else’s. It made no difference, though. At last he was beginning to understand what Melissa had meant about being attracted to two people. He could finally comprehend her confusion.
The woman was begging for something, but he couldn’t make out her words.
‘What do you want?’ His voice sounded hoarse and much too loud as it reverberated around the bedroom, and a sudden feeling of fear washed over him. Was she trying to tell him something had happened to Melissa and the girls? Oh, no. Please, no.
Ignoring the apparition, he fumbled for the switch of the bedside light and a bright beam illuminated the darkness. He barely noticed the lady fading away. Quickly, he located a piece of paper with the number of the hotel in Mallorca where Melissa and the girls were staying, and dialled. It rang for a long time before a sleepy Spanish voice answered.
‘Buenas noches. Hotel Playa Grande.’
‘Do you speak English?’ His voice was abrupt to the point of rudeness.
‘Put me through to room 1302, please.’ The man hesitated, obviously debating the wisdom of waking one of his guests in the middle of the night. Reluctantly he said, ‘Very well, señor. Just one moment.’ After all, Jake thought, it was none of the porter’s business if crazy English people wanted to wake each other at such a late hour.
He waited for another eternity.
‘Hello?’ Melissa sounded breathless, but not sleepy.
‘Melissa, sweetheart, are you all right? And the girls?’
‘We’re fine, Jake. Is something the matter? It’s three o’clock in the morning! Has something happened to Dorothy?’ He could hear the threatening hysteria in her voice and hurried to reassure her.
‘No, no. Everything’s okay here, too. I was just worried about you.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve had a visitor. And a dream.’ He told her what had happened and for a while she didn’t reply.
‘Melissa, are you still there?’
‘Yes. Yes, I … I just dreamed almost the same thing. Oh, Jake, I think something happened to Roger at Ashleigh. Something awful.’ Her voice shook and Jake wished he could take her in his arms to soothe her fears.
‘I think so, too,’ he admitted finally. ‘What I can’t figure out is what he wants us to do about it. For God’s sake, this happened, what, six hundred years ago? It’s crazy. This whole thing is madness.’
‘It can’t be, Jake, or we wouldn’t both be experiencing these things. You know, I’m really glad it’s happened to you, too.’
‘Yes, now I’m beginning to understand what you meant about being attracted to two people.’ He laughed wryly.
‘Confusing, isn’t it? Did, er … Sibell say anything?’
‘I think she was trying to, but I couldn’t make it out and then I started to panic, thinking something had happened to you or the girls.’
They were quiet for a while, each lost in thought. Finally Melissa said, ‘I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. We’ll have to talk more about it then. Let’s try and get some sleep now.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’ Now that he knew she was okay, he felt calmer. Sibell had been trying to tell him something else. Perhaps if he turned off the light she would return. ‘I’ll pick you all up at the airport as planned. See you then.’
He stared into the darkness for ages, but by the time sleep eventually claimed him Sibell hadn’t come back.
Melissa returned to Ashleigh with mixed feelings. On the one hand there was the exhilaration of coming home, which she felt every time she saw the house. On the other, there was an absolute certainty that soon she would have to face some kind of confrontation with Roger. She knew now it would be impossible to go on living in the manor house unless she solved the riddle of the ghost. One of them had to win, one way or another. In the past, all the red-headed girls of the family would have been married off and sent away, thereby leaving Roger’s quest unresolved. But Melissa was here to stay.
And I’m not leaving, she vowed.
At first, there were no dreams, sensations or ghostly apparitions to disturb her. No voices and no unusual scents. Melissa began to relax and to her great relief Jake was more understanding since the night of his own dream and unearthly visitor.
‘I still think that if we ignore Roger, he’ll eventually give up,’ he insisted, but he didn’t press her for an answer to his proposal. This made Melissa feel much better, even if she was no further forward in her search for a solution to the problem.
She resumed her work with newfound enthusiasm. From time to time she managed to lose herself in her genealogical charts and research, and resolutely ignored the little voice at the back of her mind which insisted she had to tell Jake soon about the baby. Not yet, she told it. She wasn’t ready.
It was amazing that he hadn’t noticed for himself, Melissa thought. Her stomach wasn’t as flat as it had been, but perhaps she only saw it because she knew. She hadn’t suffered any morning sickness and there were no other outward signs, but she couldn’t go on hiding her condition for much longer.
She often wondered how long the mad desire for Jake would last. She’d thought it would lessen with time, but if anything, it was growing stronger. She wanted him by her side every night, and every minute they spent apart was agony. Yet she still didn’t dare to trust that her feelings were genuine. Roger may be quiet for the moment, but she knew deep down he hadn’t given up.
A week after her return, the phone rang. It was Jenny.
‘So you’re back then? All right for some, swanning off to warmer climes,’ she joked.
‘Doctor’s orders, I’m afraid. And I really do think it did me some good. But never mind that, have you got any news for me?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Not the manor court roll yet, they’re still working on it. Apparently it’s like a minute jigsaw puzzle in the middle, or so Jeff tells me …’
‘Jeff? Is there something you’re not telling me?’
‘Possibly, but never mind that now.’ Jenny sounded coy, then turned serious again. ‘Listen, I had another brainwave and I’ve found something that might interest you.’
‘Go on, tell me then.’
Jenny giggled. ‘Now, now, patience is a virtue and all that.’
‘Come on, Jenny, put me out of my misery here.’
‘Okay, okay. Well, it occurred to me that if Sibell’s lover died she might have paid to have masses said for his body. At the time, everyone believed having lots of masses said helped a body to reach heaven faster, or something like that. Anyway, I happen to know one of the chaps at the Canterbury Cathedral Archives and as it’s the nearest big church to you, I thought I’d give it a shot. And guess what? Bingo.’
‘You mean she did? She had masses said for him?’
‘Yup. The records say she paid for no less than fifty “for the soul of my beloved husband, Roger of Langford”. Aren’t I a genius?’
‘Absolutely! Candidate for sainthood, too, at the very least. But Roger of Langford? So he wasn’t a Presseille after all then, no wonder we couldn’t find him. Wow, this is wonderful. Honestly, I don’t know how to thank you enough, Jenny. And I can’t believe they were married after all. You’re sure it said husband?’
‘Yes, no doubt about it. Great, isn’t it? So do you think that’s the end of your quest then? Apart from whatever the manor court roll might contain, of course.’
‘I suppose so, although … somehow I don’t think that’s quite it. It doesn’t feel like I’m finished.’ Melissa shook her head with a frown. ‘It’s hard to explain, but something’s still missing. Wish I knew what it was.’
‘Hmm. Well, I’ll let you know as soon as that roll is ready for inspection.’
‘Okay, I’ll try to see if I can find out anything about a place called Langford or any Roger with that surname.’
Melissa found several places of that name, although most of them were prefixed with something like ‘Little’, ‘Upper’ or ‘Lower’. Only one was called Langford on its own – a village in Bedfordshire, but she still couldn’t be sure that was Roger’s birthplace. Most of them had no records before the late sixteenth century, and despite an extensive search through the additional records of various counties, and a trawl through the notes about possible Roger’s she’d made previously, she found no mention of him.
Her despair returned in full force. Was she never to be free of this?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sibell remained immobile while her brothers were galvanised into action by their father’s ire and hurried to their tasks. The youngest rushed outside, presumably to saddle his own horse before collecting Snowflake on the way out of the stable. How he would manage Roger’s fierce warhorse, Sibell had no idea. The huge animal normally took exception to being hand
led by anyone not known to him and he would know something was wrong, of that Sibell was sure. It was some time before she heard Edmund set off at a gallop in the opposite direction to Idenhurst. No doubt Snowflake would make his way home eventually, but she didn’t think Edmund intended it to be any time soon.
The others, with Godwin a reluctant participant, wrapped Roger’s lifeless body in a coarse blanket and set off before Sibell had another chance to protest. Not that it mattered. Having at last grasped the fact that nothing would bring Roger back to life, she was past caring what else they did to him for the moment.
‘Be sure to bury him far away,’ her father called after their retreating backs. ‘I don’t want any corpses found anywhere near this manor.’
The word ‘corpse’ roused Sibell from her stupor and she lifted her eyes to stare at her father. ‘Murderer,’ she said quietly, fixing him with a look of hatred she hoped would pierce him to the bone. ‘I’ll see you hang for this, all of you.’
‘Not I, it wasn’t my doing.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘And how would you accomplish such a thing, anyway? I’ll make sure you never set foot outside these walls again until you leave with your new husband. And never think he’ll listen to your tales of woe. Why should he care? No doubt he’s done worse deeds himself.’
Sibell shivered at the thought. For once she was sure her father was right.
He had obviously had enough of this conversation, because the next thing she knew, he hefted her onto his shoulder, knocking all the air out of her lungs, and set off towards the stairs leading up to her chamber. He threw her down onto her bed, and looked around for something to tie her up with, but this gave her the opportunity to wriggle out of his grasp. She tried to make a run for the stairs.
The Silent Touch of Shadows Page 28
