Then she realised that Lady Morag was hurrying towards her in an unusual manner.
As she reached her, the older woman said breathlessly,
“I am so glad to have found you, Miss Windham! I have just called at The Castle to see if you were there. I understand that naughty little niece of yours, Mary-Rose, has been seen going into the Guard Tower!”
“The Guard Tower?” Fiona exclaimed in astonishment. “I am sure that is untrue. Mary-Rose has been told over and over again never to go near it.”
“Nevertheless, I am afraid it’s the truth,” Lady Morag said, “and when I enquired, they said that Mary-Rose came out this way some minutes ago!”
“But the Guard Tower is dangerous!” Fiona cried.
“Very dangerous!” Lady Morag agreed. “I think we had better hurry and see what she is doing without wasting any more time.”
“Yes, of course.”
As she spoke, she began to run across the grass towards where the Guard Tower was situated on the Northern side of The Castle.
As she did so, she realised that Lady Morag was following her and she hoped frantically that Mary-Rose would not hurt herself in the Tower or get into a position from which she would have to be rescued.
She was well aware that Lady Morag would make the very worst of the situation and undoubtedly would use the fact that she had left Mary-Rose alone to accuse her of being an unsuitable person to look after the child.
Apart from this, the Duke had been so insistent that the Guard Tower was dangerous that Fiona was in reality very frightened.
It was not far to the Tower and, when Fiona reached it, she saw that the door that led into it was open.
This was not unusual for the hinges had rotted away and the door lay at a kind of drunken angle against the stonework.
“Mary-Rose must have gone up on the roof,” Lady Morag said.
Fiona did not answer, but it struck her that this was indeed quite probable.
It was very unlike the child to be so naughty, but she had been thrilled by the story that her father had told her of how he and her uncle had defied their Tutor and climbed up onto the roof of the Guard Tower, where he could not fetch them down to do their lessons.
She had talked about it several times when they first arrived at The Castle, but recently there had been so many other things to distract her mind that Fiona thought that she must have forgotten the tale.
Without wasting time in talking, she started to climb up the stone stairs.
As in most Towers, they twisted round a centre structure with only arrow-slits on the outside walls to admit any light.
She climbed to the first floor of the tower and then saw very clearly why the Duke had said it was unsafe.
Through the open entrance of what must have been the first room, she could see that the floor had collapsed completely and was hanging down.
The beams that supported it and the wooden boards that had been affixed to them were held only by their attachment to the opposite wall.
A long way below them there appeared to be only darkness.
Without speaking, aware that Lady Morag was just behind her, Fiona started to climb again.
The stairs were worn with the footsteps of ages and Fiona, holding up her skirt with both hands, could not move very quickly.
Round and round the stairs twisted and now she thought that she must almost have reached the top.
It was then that she saw another door and through this she could see that the same decay had happened on this floor also.
The floor had not collapsed entirely as it had below, but it had become detached from the nearest wall and slanted at an angle, several of the boards obviously having slipped away.
Fiona paused a moment and, because by now she was really frightened, she called out,
“Mary-Rose! Mary-Rose!”
Her voice rang out, echoing round the stone walls and sounding strange and eerie.
There was no answer and she called again.
“Mary-Rose! Where are you? Answer me!”
“She will not answer you because she is not here!” Lady Morag said suddenly.
Fiona, who had tipped her head back as she had called, turned her face to find that Lady Morag was standing just behind her.
“What are you saying?” she asked. “You told me that she was here.”
A smile curved Lady Morag’s thin lips.
“I thought it was the easiest way to get you where I wanted you,” she replied.
The manner in which she spoke made Fiona stare at her incredulously.
Then she said quickly,
“You don’t know what you are saying and you have no right to bring me here under false pretences. As a joke it is in very poor taste.”
“It is not a joke,” Lady Morag replied. “I have brought you here to be rid of you!”
As she spoke, she reached out both her arms and Fiona gave a little cry.
She made as if to step aside, but she was too late.
“Die!” Lady Morag cried. “Die, as Janet died! And no one will ever find you!”
Her voice rose to a shriek as she spoke and even as it flashed through Fiona’s mind that she was mad, she felt Lady Morag’s hands pressing her forwards, pushing her with a strength against which she had no defence.
She felt herself falling. Then, with a last desperate effort to save herself, she stretched out her arms in an attempt to try to grasp the floor sloping down from the opposite wall of the tower.
It was only because she was fit and well and her will compelled her body to make the effort that she felt her fingers clutch the sloping floor near the bottom and then, as they slipped, she dug them into the narrow gap between two boards.
As she did so, her weight, slight though she was, made the broken floor creak and groan.
For a moment Fiona thought it would crash with her into the depths below, but surprisingly it held, although half her body was dangling in the air.
For a moment she could not think – dazed by the impact against the hard edge of the wood, she could only instinctively dig her fingers farther in between the boards and pray that she could hold on.
It was then that behind her she heard Lady Morag snarl,
“Fall! Fall! You have to die! You shall not live!”
For a moment Fiona felt that she might faint from the sheer horror of what was happening to her.
Her precarious hold on the floor and the venom in Lady Morag’s voice did not seem real but part of a nightmare.
Then she thought of the Duke and knew that she had found the secret of his wife’s death, but only if she remained alive could she tell him.
Because her love for him gave her strength, she screamed,
“Help! Help!”
She heard her voice ring out at first weakly and then, as she knew that she wanted help not only for herself but for the man she loved, she managed to make her cry louder.
“Help! Save me! Help!”
There was a strange silence from Lady Morag and Fiona wondered if she had run away.
She wanted to turn her head to look, but she did not dare.
Her hat had fallen off and her shoes were slipping from her feet but she had a feeling that the slightest unguarded movement might make the whole floor collapse as she had thought it must do when she had first flung herself against it.
There was what had been a window a little way above her, but the stones below it had crumbled away so that it was larger and longer than the arrow-slit that it had once been and let in a great deal more light.
Through it she could see the sky and she told herself that if anyone was listening it would carry her voice out into the open.
“Help! Help!” she cried again.
Then, as she did so, she realised why Lady Morag had been so quiet.
A large stone, obviously having broken away from the wall, hit the floor just above her hands and rolled over her fingers and down past her body.
For a second or so there
was no sounds then far below a splash of water.
“That is where you will drown,” Lady Morag cried. “Let yourself go, you fool! There will be no one to save you and I will stone you until you do fall!”
She must have gone in search of another stone, for her voice seemed to die away as she spoke and once again Fiona was shouting for help.
She cried out despairingly, knowing that if Lady Morag’s aim with the next stone was more accurate it would be hard for her to keep her hold on the boards.
Already her arms were aching and her fingers had begun to feel numb.
‘Someone must hear me!’ she thought despairingly and then screamed with pain as another stone hit her in the middle of her back.
“Die!” Lady Morag screamed. “Die, as Janet died!”
*
The Duke, riding with the Earl through the entrance gate, saw the Major Domo staring up at a window of Lady Morag’s house.
He glanced up perfunctorily and was on the point of riding on when he saw behind a closed window a small figure and recognised it as being Mary-Rose.
He turned his horse and rode towards the Major Domo.
“What is happening, Malcolm?” he asked.
“I don’t rightly know, Your Grace,” the man answered, “but apparently Miss Mary-Rose is locked up in her Ladyship’s house.”
“Is there no one there?” the Duke enquired.
“I understand her Ladyship’s servants, like most of ours, have gone off to the rehearsals for the games, Your Grace.”
“Oh yes, of course,” the Duke said. “I saw them there. But where is Lady Morag?”
“I understand, Your Grace, from the lodge-keeper, although I think he must have been mistaken, that he saw her and Miss Windham climbing up the steps of the Guard Tower a few minutes ago.”
“The Guard Tower?” the Duke exclaimed incredulously. “But they know how dangerous it is!”
“There is something wrong here,” interposed the Earl, who had been listening. “Let’s go and investigate.”
He started to ride across the grass as he spoke and the Duke followed him, only saying over his shoulder,
“Get Miss Mary-Rose out, Malcolm, even if you have to break the door down!”
The two riders reached the Guard Tower and, without wasting time in conversation, the Duke threw himself off his horse and ran up the steps to the open door.
As he did so, he heard Fiona’s scream and Lady Morag’s voice, so distorted that it was hard to recognise, shouting,
“Die! Die, as Janet died!”
The Duke, followed by the Earl, began to climb the stairs.
As they reached the opening on the first floor, the Duke stopped and looked up to see Fiona’s gown trailing over the edge of the sloping floor above.
He could also, by twisting his head upwards, see Lady Morag, a large stone in her raised hand, standing in the opening of the floor above.
“Stop!” he cried. “Stop that immediately!”
“She has to die!” Lady Morag shrieked. “She is trying to take you away from me. She has to die!”
“What in God’s name is happening?” the Earl asked the Duke.
“Go up and stop Morag,” the Duke ordered. “I must reach Fiona from the other side of the Tower.”
He pushed past the Earl and started to descend the steps as quickly as he had climbed them.
The Earl, without wasting time asking questions, started to climb upwards to find that Rollo, who had followed them up the stairs, was now going up ahead of him. The dog had not realised that his master had begun to descend the stairs.
Only as the Earl almost reached the top did he hear a snarl and see that Rollo, with his hackles raised, was growling at Lady Morag.
She was shrinking away from him, her eyes wild and distended, staring at the dog with horror.
“Go away!” she ordered. “Go away!”
Then, lifting the stone she held in her hand, she flung it at the dog’s head.
With a ferocious bark that seemed to fill the air, Rollo sprang.
The next second, before the Earl could move or do anything to prevent it, Lady Morag, screaming shrilly, toppled over the edge to fall into the darkness of the water below.
Chapter Seven
A servant came into the room to hand the Countess of Selway a note on a silver salver.
“From Rannock Castle, my Lady,” he said, “and the groom is waiting in case there is an answer.”
At the other end of the breakfast table Fiona felt herself grow tense as she watched the Countess take the note from the salver and open it.
This she did with a grace that was characteristic and, watching her downcast eyes, Fiona thought as she had often thought before how attractive the Earl’s mother was.
She had been beautiful when she was young and now her face had a sweetness that expressed her nature. In many ways she reminded Fiona of her own mother.
The Countess, however, was little more than fifty and Fiona often forgot her age and talked to her as if she was a contemporary.
After what seemed a very long time, the Countess raised her eyes and said to the servant,
“There will be no answer.”
As he withdrew she looked at Fiona with a hint of mischief in her expression and said,
“I know that you are consumed with curiosity.”
“Do you expect me to – feel anything – else?” Fiona asked.
The Countess turned to Mary-Rose, who had just finished her breakfast.
“Will you do something for me, dearest child,” she asked, “and feed my birds?”
Mary-Rose gave a little cry of excitement.
“Can I do that all by myself?”
“I feel that you will manage it just as well as I would, but don’t forget the water.”
“I’ll remember everything!” Mary-Rose said excitedly, getting down from the table.
She would have run from the room, but she stopped by the Countess’s chair to say,
“It’s so lovely being here with you.”
Then she was gone and they could hear her small feet pattering down the passage.
The Countess laughed.
“I have a feeling that Mary-Rose will be spending a great deal of time with me in the future and I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to it.”
Fiona did not reply and after a moment the Countess added,
“This is a very long letter from Torquil, so I will tell you briefly what it contains.”
She looked down at the letter for a moment and then went on,
“First, Lady Morag’s body has been taken North, so that it can be buried at her home with the rest of her MacDonald relations.”
Fiona drew in her breath but she did not speak, and the Countess continued,
“The Duchess’s funeral will take place tomorrow with great pomp and ceremony. Torquil says that as far as he can ascertain, everyone of any importance in Scotland will be present.”
“I thought that would happen,” Fiona said almost beneath her breath.
“It will be, of course,” the Countess carried on, “their way of making an apology and I only hope that the conscience of most of those present prickles them when they remember their behaviour of the last few years.”
“I am sure that the Duke deeply appreciates your son’s loyalty and yours,” Fiona murmured. “It is all he has had for so long.”
“I have loved Aiden ever since he was a small boy,” the Countess said, “and I knew that he could never have committed a crime so uncivilised as murder. Although I can assure you that by the way Janet behaved, she often deserved a good beating.”
The Countess spoke with a note of anger in her voice and then said quickly,
“But we must not speak ill of the dead. Now everything that happened in the past can be forgotten and Aiden can start a new life – ”
She paused for a moment and then added,
“ – with you!”
Fiona felt the colour rushi
ng into her face and instinctively she looked over her shoulder as if to make sure that there was nobody else in the room.
“It’s all right,” the Countess said, “but we must be very discreet and the person who is most insistent on that is Aiden himself. That is why we three, you, I and Mary-Rose are leaving for London tomorrow morning.”
“For London?” Fiona exclaimed in astonishment.
“Aiden will join us as soon as it is possible for him to do so,” the Countess said. “The one thing about which he is determined is that you should not be talked about.”
“But if we – stayed at Rannock House – ” Fiona faltered.
“But we will not be staying at Rannock House,” the Countess interrupted. “The mansion that has been in the Selway family for years may not be as impressive or contain such fabulous treasures, but I assure you it is very comfortable.”
“You are very – kind.”
“I feel as if Aiden is my son and I so want him to be happy. And that is what I know he is going to be.”
Fiona blushed again, but before she could say anything the Countess went on,
“We shall be very busy in London, you and I. You will not have much time to buy your trousseau.”
For a moment Fiona’s eyes widened with excitement.
Then she said hesitatingly,
“I am – afraid that I cannot – afford a very extensive trousseau at the – moment.”
“It will be my wedding present and Torquil’s to Aiden,” the Countess said with a smile. “I have often wondered, if he ever married again, what I could give him that he could possibly want and now I know the answer.”
“B-but – please,” Fiona protested, “you must not – do that.”
“It is something I have every intention of doing, Fiona, so don’t let’s argue about it. I know in the new life that you and Aiden are going to spend together you will want to look your very best.”
Again there was a mischievous look in her brown eyes as she added,
“Remember, he is a very handsome man.”
To Fiona it seemed impossible that the terrible scene she had enacted with Lady Morag had actually taken place and yet, when she could think about it coherently, she knew that, terrifying though it had been, it had proved a blessing in disguise.
60 The Duchess Disappeared Page 13
