The Irish Witch rb-11

by Dennis Wheatley

  'None. And 'tis that which puts a crown upon my misery. After some days, hearing nothing from him, I wrote to Lady Luggala. Her reply reached me early this month. She said he had not been to her house, and she has heard nothing of his being in Dublin. He, as well as both the girls, has completely disappeared. In my extremity my thoughts naturally turned to you. Charles had told me that, when you left him at the Duke's headquarters, you were about to return to Paris and stay again with Talley­rand. It was common knowledge that Lord Castlereagh was crossing to France to sign the Treaty, so I asked him to take my note to you. From fear it might fall into wrong hands and so blacken Susan's reputation I dared not give particulars of this awful business, but I knew that my appeal to you would not be in vain.'

  'I lost not a moment. In fact I left in the midst of a reception and, as I have said, would have been here early yesterday but for the weather.' Roger paused a moment, then went on with a frown, 'That two credulous young females should have allowed themselves to fall under the spell of some evil woman of strong personality is deplor­able, but not remarkable. It is Charles's disappearance that is so inexplicable. Had he been a courier or servant and met his death in an accident, little notice would have been taken; but as an Earl his death could not fail to have been reported in the news sheets.'

  Georgina sighed. 'Alas, there is a possible explanation, though the thought of it fills me with horror.'

  'Whatever it may be, you must tell me of it.'

  'When I showed him Maureen Luggala's letter about the two girls having become witches, he made a confession to me. The autumn before last a friend of his introduced

  him to an occult circle known as the New Hell Fire Club. He said that he took no particular interest in the cere­monies that were performed there, but joined the club for the excitement of participating afterwards in orgies in which partners were drawn by lots and both men and women remained masked. After midnight on last year's New Year's Eve he left a ball that I gave in Berkeley Square to attend a meeting of the club. Unknown to him Susan also left the ball with a Captain Hawksbury. She was under the impression that he meant to take her for an hour or two to a normal private party, but he took her to this club.'

  'What!' Roger exclaimed, his blue eyes flashing with anger. 'By God, I'll kill him for this.'

  'You are spared the trouble. He was killed last summer in a brawl. But fortunately Susan came to no harm. Before the orgy was due to start, the witch who ran the place stripped herself naked and began to perform some lech­erous act with her high priest and a negro. In horrified disgust Susan demanded that Hawksbury should take her away. He refused. There was an altercation. She was masked, but Charles was near by and recognised her voice. After a fight, by a miracle he got her out of the house.'

  'Praise be for that! But what you tell me explains your fear for Charles. He may have told you that he joined the Hell Fire Club only for the excitement of having masked women who neither needed elaborate courting nor were ordinary whores, out of reluctance to admit that he had actually become a Satanist.'

  Georgina nodded. 'Yes. That is the thought that so appals me. He may have found the girls with the witch and been persuaded to join them.'

  'Think you this Lady Luggala was telling the truth and the whole truth, in the letters she wrote you ? What sort of woman is she?'

  'I have no reason to doubt it. She is the widow of an Irish baronet and, I should say, comes herself from a reputable family. She is about my age and quite good-looking, but self-centred, somewhat vain and not over­burdened with brains.'

  'It seems then reasonably plausible that she would not have concerned herself greatly about the girls' doings, so allowed them to go where they pleased, with no more than an occasional question.'

  'I am sure that is so from her attitude toward her daughter. Jemima was much the stronger character, and had quite a temper. Susan once told me Maureen often let Jemima have her own way rather than risk a scene.'

  'Then, apart from negligence, it would appear that no blame in this awful affair attaches to Lady Luggala. But I shall want her address, so that I may call on and ques­tion her as soon as I get to Dublin.'

  From a casket on a nearby buhl table Georgina took a packet of letters, and said, 'Here are those from Susan as well as Maureen Luggala's. You had best read them all.'

  Roger did so in the sequence of the dates on which they had been written. As he handed them back, he remarked, 'There is something about Susan's last letter that strikes me as a little queer. It is her usual scrawl, so they were all penned by her without a doubt, but somehow the phrase­ology strikes me as out of keeping with her character, and she does not show the great affection we know her to have for you.'

  'That struck me, too,' Georgina nodded. 'In fact, when I received the last one from her I re-read them all, and I had a feeling that it might have been dictated.'

  "Tis just possible. You say this girl Jemima has a very

  strong character, and has great influence over her. If they have been monkeying with mesmerism she may have achieved control over Susan's mind. I'd not be surprised if that were not the root of the whole trouble.'

  Changing the subject he went on, 'I'd be on the Bristol coach this evening had I not been away all these months from poor little Mary. As things are, I know you'll under­stand if I delay to spend tonight with her, and set out for Dublin tomorrow. How fares it with her, or have you not seen her recently ?'

  Georgina hesitated a moment. 'Until this present trouble arose I've not been in London since January. And I did not run across her during the little season. I gather she goes very seldom into society these days.'

  'Ah, well, it will be a fine surprise for her that I am come home at last, and now the war is over soon be able to settle down with her for good. I've kept the coach I hired below, and if you'll forgive me, sweet, I'll now be on my way to Richmond.'

  'If you must, dear heart, but you have travelled over­night from Dover, and will be travelling again tomorrow. 'Tis not for selfish reasons I suggest it, but would it not be best for you to dismiss your coach and take mine later? Meanwhile, lie down and nap in a bedroom here for an hour or so, then let me send you on your way fortified with a good meal.'

  Although Roger had managed to prevent himself from being seasick during the crossing, he had felt far from well, and the hours of jolting in the hired coach had fatigued him, so he saw the sense in Georgina's proposal and smil­ingly agreed to it.

  No sooner was he stretched out on a bed than he fell sound asleep, and would have slept on had not Georgina come to wake him at three o'clock. Over their early dinner they agreed not to mention Susan or Charles, and he gave an account of his last, hectic days in France before Napo­leon's abdication. By four o'clock they had taken a fond leave of each other, and he left Kew House in her coach.

  In a little under an hour the coach was within a hun­dred yards of Thatched House Lodge. Putting his head out of the window, Roger called up to the coachman, 'Drive straight into the stable yard, then you can water the horses and take a mug of ale with my man before you drive back.'

  At the sound of the horses' hooves on the cobbles of the yard, old Dan Izzard came running down from his quar­ters over the coach-house, and as Roger alighted cried happily:

  'Why, bless me, 'tis the master! I been hopin' now the war'be over ye'd soon be home agin.'

  Roger shook the smiling ex-smuggler warmly by the hand. "Tis good to see you, Dan, and soon now you'll be sick of the sight of me for ever lounging about the place. How is Her Ladyship?'

  The smile left Dan's wrinkled face, and his glance shifted slightly as he replied, 'Oh, she be pretty well; but I don't see much o' her these days. She don't ride no more and scarce ever drives out. The horses be eatin' they's heads off.'

  During his drive from London Roger's mind had been entirely occupied with worry about Susan and Charier, so he had thought no more of Georgina's vague reply t« his enquiry about Mary. Now, with a frown, he turnei! quickly away, strod
e across the yard and entered the house by the back door.

  A maid was sitting knitting in the kitchen. She came quickly to her feet, and he acknowledged with a nod the bob she made him, then walked through the dining room to the drawing room. There was no-one there. Grossing the hall, he looked into the small sitting room. There was no-one there, either. As he turned away, his housekeeper, Mrs. Muffet, came down the stairs. Her eyes widened on seeing him, then she forced a smile and greeted him pleasantly. He also forced a smile as he replied, then asked curtly:

  'Where is Her Ladyship ?'

  'Up in her bedroom, Sir’.'

  'Is she ill?'

  'No . . . No, Sir. But she . . . she spends a lot of her time in bed now.'

  Instead of asking what the devil Mary was doing in bed at five o'clock in the afternoon if she was not ill, Roger took the stairs two at a time, strode down the corridor and, without knocking, flung open the door of the bedroom he shared with Mary.

  She was half-lying in bed, propped up by three pillows. The dreamy look on her face was replaced by a startled stare as her eyes met Roger's. Jerking herself upright, she exclaimed:

  'Why, bless my soul! If it's not the man who calls him­self my husband!'

  Her words were slurred, and Roger's glance had taken in the fact that a decanter two-thirds full and a half-empty glass of port stood on a table beside the bed.

  'What the hell's the meaning of this?' he snapped. 'You're drunk! How can you so shame yourself with the knowledge of the servants?'

  Mary lay back and smiled seraphically. 'Not . . . not drunk, darling. Jus' a little tipsy. Tha's all.'

  'You're drunk!' he retorted angrily. 'And I gather this afternoon is no exception. You make a habit of it. God alive, Mary! Whatin the world has driven you to become a drunkard?'

  'Nothin' else to do. Man I married leaves me after a ... a few months, an' goes galli . . . gallivanting about on... on the Continent.'

  'Oh, come now, Mary,' he said more gently. 'You know I had no option but to go in search of Charles.'

  'Oh yes, you did. You . . . you pref . . . preferred to leave your wife rather than dis . . . displease that gilded whore the . . . the Duchess of Kew.'

  'Mary! How dare you refer to Georgina as a whore.'

  "Cause she's a whore. Every . . . everyone knows it. Besides yourself she's had a ... a score of men in her bed. But . . . but, talking of bed, now you're home you . . . you might as well get your, clothes off an' . . . an' come into mine.'

  'For two people who care for each other to get gay on wine before making love is one thing,' Roger replied icily. 'To go to bed with a drunken woman is quite another, and a pastime I have never wished to experience.'

  Stepping back he slammed the door and, white with rage, stamped downstairs.

  In the library he poured himself a stiff brandy. His hand was shaking and his mind bemused. In his wildest dreams he had never imagined such a scene as had just taken place. What a homecoming! True, he had quar­relled with Mary before leaving for Spain, and he had been mainly to blame. But Georgina had brought them together as he was about to board the frigate, and they had made it up.

  What should he do now? Best leave her to sleep it off and talk some sense into her in the morning. With him at home she would soon be cured of this habit of drinking.

  But, no. Tomorrow he had to go to Dublin. When he told her that, there would be the most frightful scene. And he had counted on her this evening to take his mind off this terrible business of Susan and Charles. Now he would have to dine alone and brood about it half the night.

  The thought was unbearable. To hell with it. He would return to London and sleep at Amesbury House. As the season had not started, it was unlikely that Droopy would be there, but he could sup at White's and, for once, dis­tract his mind by gambling; then, with a bottle or two inside him, get some sleep.

  Tossing off the brandy that remained in his glass, he marched out to the stables, shouted for Dan, had him saddle a horse, and ten minutes later was cantering off toward the park gate.

  On reaching Amesbury House a pleasant surprise awaited him. The footman who answered the door told him that his Lordship was in London and at home. The reason for this emerged when Roger was shown into the library and the friends had exchanged greetings. Lord Amesbury had died in December, so Droopy was now the Earl, and had come up to take his seat in the House of Lords.

  When they had settled down Roger began to pour out his woes to his old friend, first describing his most recent trouble of arriving home to find that Mary had taken to drink.

  At that Droopy nodded his narrow head with its bird­like beak of a nose, and said unexpectedly, 'I am not greatly surprised. Until you brought her back from America she had not lived in England since she was mar­ried to that city merchant. It has ever been customary for persons of quality to look down upon anyone in trade; so, although she is daughter to an Earl, she could not be received without her husband. Naturally, she was not invited anywhere. By marrying her you restored her posi­tion in society, but between your return from America and your departure for Spain there was not time enough for her to make any intimate friends in our own circle. Georgina, I know, did her best to cultivate her, but for a reason you can well guess, Mary cold-shouldered the approaches of your lovely Duchess. I drove out to Rich­mond now and again to visit her until last November, but it was then that my father became ill, so I had to remain at Normanrood with him. Since his death I have been pestiferous busy on matters concerning his estate, so it is six months or more since I have seen her. Friendless, and neglected by you as she has been, what could you expect? What option had the poor girl but either to take a lover or take to the bottle? Now that you are home again and, praise be, for good, you'll soon have her sober and loving again.'

  Roger nodded. 'There is much in what you say, Ned; and I'll confess I had not previously looked at the matter in that light. As soon as I can I'll put things right and make up to her for my long absence. But, alas, I cannot do so yet. Tomorrow I have to leave for Dublin.'

  'Dublin!' Droopy leaned forward, peering with his short-sighted eyes at Roger. 'Why, in God's name, must you go there?'

  With a heavy sigh Roger began to tell him all he had learned from Georgina about Susan and Charles. When he came to recount how, unknown to each other, they had gone to a New Year's Eve meeting of the New Hell Fire Club, Droopy interrupted :

  'Wait one moment. This stirs a memory in my mind that may be of use to you.'

  'You know of the place, then ?'

  'Yes, I am acquainted with several wealthy rakes who were members and, from their accounts of it, quite a num­ber of titled dames participated in the Satanic revels. It was run by an Irish woman named Katie O'Brien and an unfrocked Catholic priest, one Father Damien. As they fled the country last autumn, it may well be that they went to Dublin and started another devil's circle there. Quite possibly 'tis she who has Susan and the young Luggala girl in her toils. That, too, could account for Charles's disappearance. Since he was in cahoots with her when she was here in London and may have found the girls with her in Dublin, maybe he decided to join the coven willingly, or perhaps she has some hold over him and used it to make him remain with them.'

  'You may well be right about Charles,' Roger nodded. 'But why did the witch and her priest flee the country? I would have supposed that, having so many influential patrons, they would have had ample protection.'

  'Against a charge of practising witchcraft, yes; but not for that which would have been brought against them. A great part of the Irish are loyal to the Crown, as witness the fine performance in battle of the Irish regiments under Wellington; but there are others who would have Ireland become a Republic and would have aided the French had they landed there. Katie O'Brien was such a one, and under cover of running her Hell Fire Club for bawdy decadents she was collecting information for our enemies. That emerged at the trial of a Dutchman named Corne­lius Quelp, after he was arrested as a secret agent of the French. He
had acted as her postman. But, as you would expect, all mention of what really went on at the Club was suppressed. Money talks and at the trial it was simply described as a gaining house.'

  ‘I feel certain that Charles would never have given such a woman information that might be damaging to his country; so, if she has a hold over him, it cannot be any­thing of that kind.'

  Droopy shrugged. 'Who can say? He was then quite young and inexperienced. He may have done so in all innocence and only realised his folly later.'

  After a moment Roger asked, 'What of this woman, Maureen Luggala. Did you know her?'

  'Not well, but I met her on occasions at large gather­ings.'

  'What thought you of her ?'

  'She was passable good-looking and had a well-rounded figure. She was a somewhat vapid creature, and I imagine not difficult to persuade to let one share her bed, for she was always ogling the men—though in fairness I must say I never heard her name coupled with one.'

  'You term her vapid, and Georgina described her as stupid, and self-centred; yet, however wrapped up in her own affairs she may be, I find it difficult to credit that during all those weeks she remained entirely oblivious of the fact that the two girls had begun to dabble in witch­craft.'

  'They would naturally have taken every precaution to hide it from her, and it may be her shallow mind was entirely occupied by some other interest—a lover per­haps.'

  Roger frowned. 'Your suggestion gives me food for thought. You have implied that she sought to attract our sex, yet she was clearly careful of her reputation. As a widow and only a little over forty who apparently craved satisfaction, does it not strike you that she was the type of woman who might have been a member of the Hell Fire Club. Masked she could have preserved her incognito, and her good figure would have made her acceptable.'

  'If you are right, that would explain many things.'

  'Indeed it would. The reason for her leaving England would have been to follow the O'Brien woman to Dublin, and there continue the association. She, not her daughter, may be at the root of the trouble. If she is a Satanist her­self, she would have initiated the two girls, and her letter to Georgina be a pack of lies designed to keep Susan in Ireland by alleging that she has disappeared.'