Winterset

by Candace Camp

  He sighed again and turned toward Anna. “We thought we could control him. His valet stayed with him, and at night they locked him in his bedchamber. He assured us that he understood, that he would abide by the rules. He said he had not meant to kill the girl, and I guess we were eager to believe him. Of course, we saw our mistake after he got away from his valet one night and killed poor Will.”

  “But still you did not turn him in,” Reed commented.

  “No. We had already concealed the first murder. I could scarcely go forward then and have Lady de Winter accused of being an accessory. She locked him up after that, put him in the nursery and got a burly guard to watch him, as well as his valet.” Nick turned haunted eyes toward Reed. “I’ve never forgotten or forgiven myself. If I had been a better man, a stronger man, I would have taken him straight to jail when I found him. But I wasn’t…and I could not hurt Lady Philippa like that.”

  “Why did he do that?” Anna burst out. “We found those masks, his journals, but we could make very little sense of them.”

  “He was mad,” Perkins said bluntly. “He grew worse and worse until he died. He had some crazy idea that the legends about the Beast of Craydon Tor were true. He said it was the de Winter curse, but it had turned out to be a blessing. He thought that periodically through the years one of the de Winters, like him, would be one of the ‘Children of the Wolf.’ He said that sort of thing. These ‘Wolf People’ were superior to everyone else, he thought. They had gifts, he said—they had heightened senses of smell and hearing, as if they really were wolves. They were attuned to the woods, to nature, and they had the courage of a wolf. Because he was one of the ‘Wolf People,’ he was not subject to the laws that governed lesser folk. He believed that he hunted and then killed, like a wolf, and that it was his right, part of his superiority.”

  Perkins paused, then went on. “He used to put on those masks and wear them about his rooms. He had strange clawlike nails that he would slip on his fingers. I think he must have worn them when he killed his quarry. Perhaps the first time, when he killed Susan in the house, it might have been a sudden impulse. But I think when he killed Will Dawson, he put them on and went hunting.”

  Anna shivered. It was a horrible image and one that she knew she would not be able to get out of her head for a long time.

  Nick turned to her and said earnestly, “I’m sorry, Miss Anna, but I could not tell you all that. I know what I did was wrong, but I can’t regret it, not when you and your brother and your mother would have had to live with that stigma. You may hate me, but—”

  “Oh, Nick.” Anna sent him an anguished look. “I cannot hate you.”

  She knew that she was grateful he had done what he did, that she and Kit had not grown up with the black cloud of their grandfather’s evil deeds hanging over them. God knows, she wished that she did not know about them even now. At the same time, she hated what he had done, and she was not sure that she could ever feel the same way about him again.

  They left not long afterward, but when Reed turned his horse toward the road, Anna reached out and put her hand on his arm, stopping him.

  “I want to go the other way,” she told him.

  Reed’s eyebrows soared upward. “By the footbridge? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I have been thinking about it. Even though we have found out who killed those people almost fifty years ago, I’m not at all sure that we are any closer to finding out who the killer is right now. Everyone who lives around here has heard of those killings. You and I have proved that with a little research, a person could find out the essential elements of those killings and repeat them. Remember how Grimsley told us of seeing lights in the nursery and walking along the gallery? He assumed that they were ghosts, because that is the way his mind works, but clearly it could have been someone who sneaked into the house while it was empty. They could have found Lord Roger’s journals. Perhaps there are other journals, ones that talk about the killings, ones that we did not see, and this person read them and became intrigued.”

  Reed nodded. “Yes, it’s obviously a possibility.”

  “But we still have absolutely no idea who that person is,” Anna pointed out. “So I thought that I ought to try again what we talked about—but this time go to the scene of the crime and see if I can sense more about the murder. Perhaps, if I tried, I could see more of what happened, get a clue about who the killer is.”

  Reed frowned. “I don’t like the idea of your exposing yourself to such pain. I saw how you reacted in the room off the gallery, and that was an old murder. Where the killings have been so recent, it will be worse. I don’t want you to suffer that sort of pain.”

  “I have to,” Anna insisted.

  Finally, with a sigh, Reed agreed, and they turned toward the footbridge.

  On horseback, it did not take them long to reach the stream. Anna could feel her stomach tightening as they drew near the location. They dismounted and tied their horses to a tree, then walked over to the spot where Anna and the twins had stumbled upon Frank Johnson’s body.

  As she approached it, the tense, uneasy feeling inside her chest began to grow, the pain twisting and turning inside her. She stood over the place where he had lain, looking down, remembering his body lying there. She wanted to look away, to close her mind to the memories, but she forced herself to think about it, seeing again the gruesome wounds, the blood pooling on the ground….

  Shock jolted through her, along with a burst of pain in her head, and Anna gasped. It was not as strong as it had been the first time, but she could feel again the sensations that had assaulted her when she had been in this place before. She could see the darkness, feel herself stumbling forward, falling with a thud.

  Unconsciously, Anna reached out her hand. She did not realize she had done so until she felt Reed take it, his fingers curling around her palm. She squeezed his hand tightly, grateful for its reassuring strength.

  With a sigh, she opened her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” He was looking down at her, his brow creased with concern.

  She nodded. “It isn’t as intense as when I felt it the other day. I’m not sure how much is the feeling and how much is remembering what it felt like then.”

  “What could you tell about the murder?” he asked.

  “Not that much. It was quick. I think the killer must have jumped out from behind something and hit the boy in the head, because I felt surprise at almost the same time as I felt the flash of pain. Then he stumbled forward, I think, and fell to the ground and lost consciousness. I could never see the killer. I think he was behind Frank. Poor boy.”

  She looked up at Reed. “I’m afraid it isn’t much help.”

  “You have established a pattern. Wasn’t your brother knocked in the head, as well?”

  Anna nodded. “Yes. He must hit them with something, and then, when they are incapacitated, he goes after them with a knife or whatever it is he uses to cut them.”

  “Shall we go on to the farm where your maid was found?” Reed asked. “Do you feel well enough?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. Really, it wasn’t nearly as bad as before.”

  So they rode on, crossing the stream and turning east, rather than continuing on the path to Winterset. They went through a pleasant meadow and up a rise, and there they dismounted.

  “Dr. Felton said her body was above the meadow and not far from the clump of oak saplings.” Anna gestured toward a small stand of slender young trees.

  They crisscrossed the area on foot, but Anna remained strangely unaffected. Finally she stopped with a sigh. “I don’t understand. Perhaps I have the place wrong. Or maybe it has been too long.”

  “But you felt the murder in Winterset, even though it had been many years,” Reed countered. He looked thoughtful. “When you first felt that something had happened to Estelle, you were elsewhere, were you not?”

  Anna nodded. “Yes, in the woods near my house.” She looked at him. “Do you think that is where she was killed?
That we should try there instead?”

  “I don’t know. But Lord de Winter took Susan Emmett’s body from where he killed her to another spot. Perhaps our killer is that slavishly devoted to following the original murders.”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  They mounted their horses again and trotted back the way they had come, taking the narrow path that led toward Holcomb Manor. When they reached the edge of the woods, they dismounted and walked into the trees, leading their horses.

  “This is the place where the twins found their dog,” Anna said, pointing. “I still wonder if his wounds might have been caused by the same person. They were similar. Or maybe it was his pain I felt that day. The spot is not far from here.”

  She wound through the trees, trying to remember the precise location where she had felt that slamming fist of fear. She drew in her breath sharply as little prickles of awareness suddenly danced over her skin.

  “Do you feel something?” Reed asked.

  Anna nodded. “Yes, a little. It’s near here.”

  She walked on, and now the fear was sweeping through her like a tide of cold. Her steps grew quicker.

  “She was scared,” Anna said, her eyes blank, looking at the area in front of her without really seeing it, focusing on something in her mind. “The fear came before the pain. She—she’s running.” Anna’s voice grew a little breathy. “It’s behind—behind her, and it’s catching up.”

  She hurried through the trees, her voice going higher with fear, her breath coming in little pants. “She screams. She wants him—the man she was going to meet. I can’t—can’t get his name. And then—and then—”

  Anna came to a dead stop, holding her hands out a little from her sides. “Here. The pain comes here. It’s different—not on the head. Something slams into her from behind, and I can’t—she can’t breathe. She’s fallen, and then it’s on her. She’s paralyzed with fear. And then there’s pain, tearing pain, and a flash of something—a face or something that terrifies her. I can’t really see it well. I just feel what she’s feeling.”

  She let out a breath and glanced around her, feeling as if she were returning suddenly to her own place and time. Her hand was in Reed’s, and she was clutching it to her; she realized it with some embarrassment and released him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head, dismissing the need for any apology. “Was that everything you could see?”

  “Yes. I didn’t see his face. I never can. But it was different with her. She ran from him, and he didn’t hit her on the head first.”

  “It was the first. Perhaps it was unplanned. Or maybe he learned from the first one that he needed to render them unconscious quickly.”

  “Or because they were men, he presumed he needed more advantage.”

  Reed nodded. “No one but us—and the killer—knows that this is where the murder actually took place. So the constable has not searched the area.”

  Anna nodded. “You’re right. We should look around, see if we can see anything. One of her earbobs, perhaps. Penny said she was wearing a set that the man she was meeting had given her.”

  “Were they still on her body?”

  “I’m not sure. I mentioned them to Estelle’s family, but they had no idea what I was talking about. So I would think that they were missing from the body—or perhaps, in their grief, they didn’t even notice.”

  “All right. Let’s begin to look. Starting here, since this is where you think she went down.”

  They bent over, searching the ground carefully, walking away from each other and returning in narrow zigzags. After a few minutes, Reed let out a cry of discovery. Anna was instantly at his side.

  “What? Did you find anything?”

  “Look at that.” Reed pointed at the ground at his feet. Just this side of a small shrub, lying against a small, fallen branch, lay a glitter of gold.

  “What is it?” Anna leaned closer, and Reed bent to pick it up.

  “A cuff link,” he said, holding it out to her in his palm. “Do you recognize it?”

  It was a gold cuff link, with a small onyx set in the center. Anna shook her head indecisively.

  “I don’t know. I—it seems as though I have seen it somewhere, but…it’s not really familiar.”

  Anna sighed. She had had such hopes of finding out something pertinent, but when they had found something, it hadn’t turned out to be of much use.

  Reed saw her expression. “Don’t be downcast. Now we know where the murder really took place, and we know that he lost a cuff link.”

  “But it’s scarcely something we can take to the constable,” Anna pointed out. “What would we say? We found this lying in the woods, nowhere near where either body was found? Or that I somehow knew the murder really took place here?”

  “No. But we know more than we knew before.” He smiled down at her. “We have a link to the killer.”

  “I know. It’s just—I am worried about Kit. After last night…I don’t think he will stop until he has hurt Kit. We must find out who it is. And soon.”

  “We will,” Reed assured her, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Now…let me escort you home, and then you shall invite me to stay for dinner, and we’ll spend the evening, you and Kit and I, racking our brains for answers to our puzzle.”

  Anna had to smile, as he had planned. “All right.”

  * * *

  They did, in fact, follow Reed’s proposed schedule for the evening, riding to Holcomb Manor and joining Kit for supper, then sitting down afterward in the sitting room and discussing their progress concerning the murders. Their revelations regarding Lord Roger de Winter left Kit stunned and almost speechless.

  “Our grandfather?” he asked in amazement. “Are you jesting?”

  “It’s hardly something I find funny,” Anna told her brother. “Yes, it’s true. Both the maid we went to see and Nick Perkins admitted it. They helped Lady Philippa conceal it from everyone.”

  “I cannot imagine.”

  “What worries me most,” Anna said, “is that our uncle lived in that house until ten years ago. He was alive when it happened, about ten or so—old enough, perhaps, to have had some idea of what was going on. It might have…influenced his madness.”

  “Yes, but Uncle Charles is not like that,” Kit argued. “The way you described Lord Roger…”

  “I know. But none of us knows what really goes on in Uncle Charles’ mind. It’s quite likely he saw those masks, even read the journals. Couldn’t he have developed a similar obsession?”

  “It does sound like the type of delusion that Uncle Charles has. But I have never heard anything about those particular beliefs in all his ramblings. You know that what he believes is all about the Queen and how he is the heir to the throne and all that.” He cast an embarrassed glance at Reed. “I am sorry to involve you in all this.”

  “No need to be,” Reed responded casually. “I’ve told Anna all about my myriad peculiar relatives.”

  Anna cast him a warm look. It pleased her to see Reed and Kit talking together so easily. They could be friends, she thought, letting her mind drift for a moment in a pleasant dream. If only things had been different…

  The evening wound to a close. Reed rode home, and Anna went up to bed, leaving Kit to take the first watch of the evening, as he had told his servants he would.

  * * *

  It was raining. The ground was wet and slick, and thick drops clustered on the leaves of the trees, rolling off them. She was walking through the woods. Everything around her was silent and gray, with the faint light one found beneath the trees on a rainy day.

  Ahead of her, she saw a man lying on the ground, unmoving, his face turned up to the sky. Raindrops pattered on his face, rolling down his cheeks, and he did not stir. She moved closer, fear clutching at her throat.

  She stood over the man and looked down at him. His face was pale and still as death, raindrops clustering on his eyelashes, soaking his hair.

  “No
!” Her scream ripped through the woods.

  * * *

  “No!” Anna sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open.

  The dream had been so real that for a moment she was unsure where she was. Her heart was pounding in her chest as though it might explode, and she was cold with horror. Reed was dead!

  She threw back her coverlet and jumped out of bed. She lit a candle with shaking fingers, then hastened to her wardrobe. She had to go to him. She had to see! Maybe it wasn’t too late.

  With icy fingers, she pulled out a simple dress that buttoned down the front, easy to put on by herself. She whipped off her nightgown and dressed, shoving her feet into slippers.

  She hurried out the door and ran down the stairs, her unbound hair floating in a tangle down her back. Once outside, she ran across the yard. It was her first instinct to run all the way to Winterset, but her mind was working well enough to conquer that thought. It would be much faster to ride.

  It was almost dawn. She could see the lightening of the sky in the east, though the sun had not yet appeared over the horizon. The birds were beginning to move and twitter in their trees, but the stables were still dark, the grooms not yet tending to their business.

  She ran in and hurried along the stalls to where her horse was kept. She grabbed a bridle from a hook on the wall, and at that moment a groom came clattering down the stairs from the sleeping quarters above.

  “Miss!” he exclaimed, hurrying toward her. His hair was still mussed from sleep, and his shirt hung outside his trousers. “What’s the matter?”

  “Saddle my horse,” Anna said, shoving the bridle at him.

  “Now, miss?” He gaped at her.

  “Yes! Now! Hurry!”

  He blinked at her in amazement, but he moved to do as she bid, going into the stall and putting the bridle on her mare. Anna waited impatiently, pacing up and down the center aisle of the stables, as he bridled and saddled her horse.

  “But ye need a groom to go with ye,” the groom said as he led the mare to Anna. “Yer not going out without a groom, are ye? Master Kit said—”