The Irish Witch rb-11

by Dennis Wheatley

  'Because, Mary, he is my son.'

  'Your son! You mean that he has no real right to the Earldom? That you fathered him upon Georgina?'

  For a moment Roger was tempted to accept the con­clusion to which she had jumped, as it would have strengthened his case for going to Charles's assistance. But swiftly he realised the danger of acknowledging this tie with Georgina.

  'No, no,' he shook his head. 'I mean only that Charles is the nearest thing to a son I've ever had. As you know, he and Susan were brought up together by Georgina, so I have always looked on both of them as my children.'

  The nearest thing to a sneer that Roger had ever seen on Mary's face crossed it for a moment, then she snapped, 'So you think of yourself as his father! A fine father I must say! Why, it will be near three years since you even saw the boy. And when you were last in England for any length of time, he was for most of it at Eton. Did you come face to face with him in a street tomorrow, I doubt me if you'd know him.'

  " Roger sighed. 'Mary my love, what you say is true enough. Yet I feel this to be a duty I cannot shirk.'

  'You mean you learned this from Georgina and have given way to her pleading that you should desert me to go in search of the son she so dotes upon?'

  'Georgina does not enter into this.'

  'Oh, but she does! Your story to me that she has been your lifelong friend is true enough. But there is more to it than that. Do you suppose there are no malicious tongues among the society women with whom I have become acquainted during this past month? Several of them have been at pains to inform me that Georgina was your mis­tress for many years, and sweetly congratulated me on having supplanted her in your affections.'

  'That we were lovers when young I'll not deny,' Roger replied smoothly. 'But that is a long time ago. Not one of those scandalmongering jades could provide a tittle of evidence that I've been aught to Georgina between her marriages but a frequent escort when in London.'

  'Yet you must have been with her at some time during the past twenty-four hours. How else could you have learnt that Charles is a prisoner ?'

  Roger had agreed with Georgina that, to make certain the news about Charles did not get to Susan's ears and cause her great distress, she should tell no-one of her dream or vision in the crystal. So he was able to reply:

  ‘I learnt it last night from the Minister of War, who made one of our party. Charles's capture was mentioned in a despatch he had received that morning from His Grace of Wellington. Knowing my connection with the boy, he told me of it, but he'll not make it public, in order to spare Georgina the anxiety she would feel.'

  The plausible lie temporarily stilled Mary's suspicions, but she continued to argue that she had a bigger claim on him than Charles, and to plead with him to forgo his inten­tion of going to Spain.

  He had assumed she would be tearful but submissive, so her persistence, added to her unexpected suspicions about Georgina, annoyed him. Sorry as he was for her, and the more so from knowing that he was making her unhappy to undertake a journey that might very well prove futile', he was not the man to change his mind once he had made it up, let alone go back on his word to Georgina. At length, pushing back his chair, he said:

  'M'dear. When we first met in Lisbon I told you that, being near twice your age, I was too set in my habits to change them. I have never yet allowed a woman to inter­fere with any project I have set my mind upon. I can only say that since I love you very dearly, I will return to you as soon as possible.'

  Thereupon Mary burst into tears. But he ignored her, left the table and walked from the room.

  She did not join him in the library, and he spent the next few hours putting his affairs in order. By the time he had finished, he had decided that the only way to ensure against Mary making further trouble in future, when she disapproved of his arrangements, was to teach her a sharp lesson. So, when he went upstairs, instead of going to their bedroom he went to his dressing room and slept the night there.

  He had hoped she would come to him and seek a re­conciliation; but as she had not he was in no mind, when he went downstairs in the morning, to take the first step himself. She did not join him for breakfast, so when he had finished he sent for her maid, and said :

  'As Her Ladyship is still up in her room, I assume she is feeling indisposed. Be good enough to tell her that I shall shortly be leaving for London, but expect to return in time for dinner.'

  To his surprise the girl faltered, 'But Her Ladyship is not there, Sir. She got up early, ordered the coach and left an hour since. I... I thought you knew.'

  With difficulty concealing the anger he felt at having to show ignorance of his wife's plans, he asked, 'Did she say where she was going, and what time she is likely to be back?'

  'No, Sir. But she had me pack a small night bag to take with her.'

  Dismissing the girl with a nod, Roger poured himself another cup of coffee, then sat back to consider this un­expected development. Mary had clearly taken the bit between her teeth, but where the devil was she on her way to? She had no relatives with whom she could stay while endeavouring to bring him to heel, and no money of her own. He had started to make her a generous monthly allowance, but she could not have put aside out of the first instalment sufficient to keep herself for any length of time.

  During the past few weeks she had made a number of acquaintances, but was not yet intimate enough with any of them to ask them to put her up—except Droopy Ned. Yes, that was probably the answer. She had gone off to pour out her trouble to him.

  Roger had meant to look in on Droopy that day and, as he had no secrets from this best of friends, tell him that he was going to Spain, and why. Now he decided against doing so, for he had no intention of letting Mary think he had come hot-foot after her.

  Half an hour later he was on his way to London, and by mid-morning at the Admiralty, where he sent up his card to the First Sea Lord, an acquaintance of long stand­ing, who was one of the comparatively few people who knew of his past activities as a secret agent.

  After a short wait, the Admiral saw him and they talk­ed for ten minutes or more about Roger's experiences in Russia and America, then he said, 'My Lord, I am anxious to get to Spain as soon as possible. I must not conceal it from you that this is on private business; but if you could help me I'd be deuced grateful.'

  The old sailor smiled. 'Having in mind your past ser­vices to the nation, Mr. Brook, we'd be mightily ungrate­ful if we couldn't stretch a point for you. The frigate Pompey, Captain Durrant, will be sailing from Greenwich three days hence. You're welcome to a passage aboard her, and I'll notify her commander accordingly.'

  Well pleased, Roger made his way to White's Club. As he hung his beaver on a peg in the inner hall, it crossed his mind how manners and fashions had changed since he had first become a member. Then, all the hats had been tricornes and many edged with gold lace. Now, they were all toppers of various colours, some, like his own, rough-surfaced, others of smooth, shining silk.

  At the far end of the billiard room he found Droopy, playing backgammon. He peered at Roger with his short­sighted eyes, then greeted him cheerfully, but said noth­ing of Mary. As soon as the game had ended, Roger drew him aside and asked if she was at Amesbury House.

  'No,' replied Droopy in some surprise. 'At least she was not there when I left an hour agone. Why, think you she might be ?'

  Over a decanter of Madeira, Roger told him what had occurred. After a moment's thought, Droopy said, "Tis plaguey hard upon you both, though she will be the greater sufferer. Loath as you are to go abroad again, at least you'll be fully occupied, whereas poor Mary will have naught to do but wait and pray. Wherever she is gone, since she has little money she'll not remain away from home for long; and, when she does return, you must not upbraid her for this display of temperament, for 'tis love for you that is the cause of it.'

  'You're right, Ned. And it troubles me mightily to have to inflict this pain upon her. Yet how could I possibly leave Georgina without a single hop
e ?'

  'In view of what you have always been to each other, you could not. To that I agree. Yet, if her vision be a true one, your hope of saving Charles is no better than that an angel should appear at the critical moment when the rope is put about his neck.'

  'Dam'me, I know it! And my wrath at being forced into undertaking a mission so likely to be foredoomed to failure is exceeded only by my sorrow that it seems the boy is fated to die. Although I've done little, other than buy him presents when a child and later teach him enough of sword play to make him a dangerous antagonist. I've loved him both as my sweet Georgina's son and for himself.'

  Droopy nodded. ‘I, too, will share Georgina's grief and yours. Since he could toddle, I have ever been his "dear Uncle Ned". Indeed, over the years I have seen much more of him than yourself, and he was fast becoming a man of whom we could all be proud.'

  In due course, Roger accompanied Droopy back to Amesbury House, to make certain that Mary had not arrived there while they had been at White's. Then Roger rode back to Richmond.

  Half an hour after he reached home, he heard his coach drive up to the front door. Hurrying to it, he met Mary on the doorstep. Holding out both his hands to her, he said with a smile:

  'Mary, my love, wherever have you been ? Your driving off without a word to me this morning, and taking a night bag with you caused me great concern.'

  She returned his smile. 'For that I'm sorry. But this was an occasion when I felt that I, for once, must under­take a mission.'

  He frowned. ‘I trust it was successful.. . but I do not understand. And why did you take a night bag ?'

  'Because I thought I might be asked to stay the night. And it was successful. You need not now go to Spain.'

  'What the devil are you talking about?'

  Taking a letter from her reticule, she handed it to him. He saw Georgina's crest on the envelope. With a sudden frown, he ripped it open and read :

  'Dear Roger,

  'Mary tells me that Charles has been taken prisoner and that, having learned of this, it is your intention to proceed to Spain in the hope of obtaining his release. Naturally, this news greatly pains me and I feel sure that it was realising how much it would do so when I heard it that prompted your generous intent. But though I’d derive great comfort from knowing that you were going to Charles's assistance, I cannot allow it. I have no doubt that His Grace of Wellington will speedily arrange for his exchange; and the anxiety you would inflict on Mary by leaving her could not possibly be justified in order to spare the boy a few extra weeks of captivity. 'Ever your loving friend,

  'Georgina.’

  As he finished reading, Mary said, 'I thought her to be at Stillwaters, so drove down there this morning, only to be told that she left for London the day before yesterday and..’

  'And her letter makes it obvious that when you found her at Kew House you told her about Charles.'

  'Of course. It was to do so that I sought her out.'

  Roger had told Mary that the news of Charles's capture was to be kept secret, in order to spare Georgina. Her letter showed that she had kept to their agreement to speak of it to no-one, so that Susan should not learn of it. Coldly, he said:

  'Did it not occur to you that telling Georgina would cause her great grief and anxiety ?'

  'Well... yes,' Mary faltered. 'But to appeal to her was my only hope of preventing you from leaving me.'

  Obviously Georgina had said nothing to Mary of her vision in the crystal, and to write that letter, foregoing the one possible chance of saving her son must have cost her dear. Yet it was typical of the generous and courageous spirit that Roger loved in her. Slowly he tore the letter across, again and again, let the pieces flutter to the ground, and said harshly:

  'Madame, your callous act has failed to achieve its purpose. I do not take orders from Georgina. For your information, in three days' time I am sailing for Spain.'

  Then he turned his back on Mary and strode into the house.

  An hour later, her eyes red from weeping, she came down for dinner. As Roger did not appear, she thought he must have failed to hear the gong, so told the parlour­maid to sound it again. For the second time that day the girl showed surprise, then faltered:

  'Did you not know, m'lady? The master ordered his horse and half an hour since rode away.'

  When Roger reached London he still felt very bitter about Mary; for he considered she had betrayed his trust and taken a step which, had his beloved Georgina not already known about Charles, would have caused her great grief. Within a few minutes of entering Kew House he had even greater reason for his anger. Georgina was in her boudoir and, as the door closed behind the footman who had shown him up to her, she said:

  'I take it you have had my letter?'

  He nodded. 'Yes; it is about that I am come.'

  'So I imagined. I hope you have given that wife of yours a beating for the damage she has done.'

  'A callous act, yes; but damage, no. You already knew about Charles.'

  'Certainly. But Susan did not, and she was with me when the little fool blurted out about your going to Spain, and the reason for it.'

  'What?' Roger roared.

  'Yes; and it was for her sake we agreed to keep the matter secret. The poor child was distraught. Driven frantic. Naturally, she still knows nothing of my vision, but she imagines Charles to be in some noisome cell living on meagre prison fare. I had a terrible hour with her. She is now in bed, sleeping I trust, for I gave her a potent draught;'

  'Hell's bells! Mary told me naught of this. To show my disapproval of her conduct, I left the house without telling her I was riding up to London, but I had intended to return tonight. Now, devil take me, for this I'll leave her to stew until I return from Spain.'

  'But, Roger, you had my letter. And what I said in it I meant. How could I refrain from taking pity on her? 'Tis true that she was thoughtless in showing no considera­tion for my feelings, but not wicked. You must go back, forgive her and endeavour to put this whole wretched business out of your mind.'

  'I'll be damned if I will. When I had to tell her yestere'en that I was going abroad again, I was mightily unhappy for her. But after what she has done to Susan, I am so no longer. I sail from Greenwich three days hence. Till then I'll stay with Droopy Ned.'

  Georgina shook her head. 'I've long since learned 'tis useless to argue with you. And, sorry as I am for her, 'twill comfort me greatly to know that you are doing what you can to save my boy. But if you wish to avoid further wrangles with your wife, you had best not stay with Droopy. 'Tis the first place she will go to look for you. I suggest you should stay here.'

  'I thank you, dear one, but I'll not do that. You're right that she will seek me at Droopy's. Failing to find me there, she will next come to you. She already suspects that there is more than friendship between us, and I am greatly averse to strengthening that impression, for both your sake and hers. I have it, though. The perfect hide-out. Your studio.'

  'By all means. But I'll not go out there with you. To dis­port ourselves as we have so oft done there one needs a carefree mind.'

  Roger sighed. 'Alas, you are right. Without it our bodies would take no real joy of one another.'

  'You will find your chamber robe and toilet things in their usual place, and I'll send out a footman to valet you. Also, if you wish to lie low there, one of my under-chefs to cook your meals.'

  'I thank you, but I'll not need the last, as I'll eat out. I would, though, that tomorrow morning, dressed in plain clothes so that it will not be known that he is one of your people, the footman should take a coach out to Richmond with a letter to old Dan, telling him what I require packed for my voyage, then return with my valises.'

  After a by no means cheerful supper with Georgina, Roger rode out to Kensington, stabled and fed his horse, then undressed. He had never slept alone in her big bed and, as he was about to get into it, he was suddenly con­scious of a feeling that to do so would be a sacrilege against their abiding love, so he spen
t the night in the room that buxom Jane occupied when her mistress was staying there.

  In the morning the footman arrived with a supply of food, and cooked breakfast for him, then set off for Rich­mond with the list of things that Roger wished Dan to pack. By midday he was at White's and sent a note to Droopy, asking him to look in at the Club.

  An hour later Droopy joined him. Georgina's guess had been right. Mary had arrived at ten o'clock, and poured out her woes to Judith, who was still trying to comfort her when Droopy came downstairs. Both he and Judith had quite truthfully assured her that they had no idea where Roger was, and offered to put her up until she had news of him. She had been grateful, but declined, saying that she would next try Kew House and that, if Roger was not there, would go home and stay there as—not know­ing that he had had his things collected that morning— she felt sure he would return to get them before leaving England.

  When Droopy had been told of the latest developments, he shook his head. 'I think you're wrong, Roger, to treat her so harshly. 'Tis true that by her impetuosity she has caused young Susan needless suffering; but remember that she knows nothing of this threat to Charles's life, only that he is a prisoner. It is natural that she should resent your leaving her, solely to save the boy from a few extra weeks' captivity.'

  'How could I tell her of the vision, Ned? Had I done so, I would have had to admit to having been secretly with Georgina. That would have made them enemies for life, and might have wrecked our marriage for good. In any case, it would have meant that every time in the future that I spent a night away from her, there would have been a most awful rumpus; and that I will not have.'

  'I take your point. Nonetheless, 'tis clear that what she did was done on account of the great love she bears you. I pray you think on that.'

  'I will,' Roger promised. But as soon as Droopy had left him to keep an appointment, his thoughts reverted to his poor young daughter and the misery Mary had so selfishly brought upon her.