The Countess

by Catherine Coulter

  I remember hearing George’s snore even as I felt everything freeze and curdle inside me. Slowly, ever so slowly, I eased my arms out from under the covers.

  More slowly yet, I began pushing myself upright. George stirred but slept on.

  That dead still figure began to move slowly around the end of the bed, toward me. In that moment when it crossed in front of the moonlit window, I saw it clearly. It was an old woman, terribly misformed, older than death itself. Tangled white hair hung about her hideous distorted face. I wanted to scream my head off, but to my consternation, when I opened my mouth, only a pathetic moan came out. I felt literally locked in place, nailed down, so scared I simply couldn’t move.

  In a cracked voice I heard myself say, “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

  That old woman, who surely could not be real, said in a thin, papery voice, “You are an abomination. You are the evil that revisits this house. You are vile, and what you came from is even more vile. You will pay for all of it.”

  I was gasping I was so afraid. I felt George moving about now, and for the first time since I had jerked awake to see that thing at the end of the bed, I knew fear for something other than just myself.

  I jerked back the covers, grabbed George, and rolled toward the far side of the bed, away from that ghastly apparition.

  But I didn’t move fast enough or that old grotesque creature moved more quickly than someone alive would have moved, but she was coming quickly now, leaning toward me across the bed, and in her twisted fingers she held a knife, not silver, but gold, the blade curved at the end, like one of those blades from the Arabian Nights. She held it high above her head, ready to bring it down.

  I rolled off the far side of the bed, George barking wildly, trying to pull free of me to attack that creature. I yelled, “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

  Stupid questions, I knew, but they just poured out of my mouth. Suddenly that creature was coming around the side of the bed, to cut me off, to trap me.

  I didn’t even think about taking my chances here with her. Even as she moved toward me, that strange golden knife was held high again, and I could see it coming down toward my chest. I grabbed up a pillow in my free hand and hurled it at her. It hit that knife and made her pause a moment, and in that same moment, with George barking his head off, I ran as fast as I could to the bedchamber door.

  The knob wouldn’t turn. Oh, Jesus, I thought, jerking on it, twisting it, my fingers trembling and white with the strain. I didn’t remember locking the door, but I could have. I just didn’t remember. I jerked on the knob, then turned the key that was in the lock. George was barking madly, and I turned to see the old woman running now toward me, her gait jerky, awkward, but she was coming fast. The key turned, and the knob finally twisted beneath my fingers. I jerked the door open and nearly fell into the corridor.

  So I had locked the door. How had the creature gotten into my room?

  I didn’t look back, just ran as fast as I could, George pinned to my side. I wasn’t about to let him go after that creature.

  I managed to keep my balance. I ran as fast as I had ever run in my life, down that long corridor, not thinking, just finally coming to a panicked stop in front of a bedchamber door. I knew who was behind that door, knew that I had run specifically to this bedchamber. I pounded my fists against the aged oak.

  I heard a man’s muffled voice from inside. I kept pounding, pounding, and George kept barking his head off. I was grateful that he was making all that noise. It had to give that creature second thoughts about coming after me.

  Even as I pounded on that door, I looked back. I didn’t see anything, but it didn’t make my heart slow at all.

  Finally, it seemed at least a century had passed, the door flew open and there was John, a pair of breeches pulled quickly on, and wearing nothing else.

  It wouldn’t have mattered if he was in his bathtub. I threw myself at him. George realized who it was and went berserk.

  John managed to keep his balance at the shock of my weight hurled against him. “Andy, for God’s sake, what’s going on? What’s wrong? George, be quiet!” There was only one way to quiet George, and that was to pick him up. So John did, just jerked him away from my nearly locked-down right arm. He had George in one arm and the other around me.

  I was breathing so hard and so fast I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, leaning against a man I feared all the way to my bones, and I didn’t want to move, just feel him there, warm and hard and strong, holding George and holding me and knowing we were both safe.

  “It’s all right,” he said, his voice soft and deep now, warm against my hair. “Everything will be fine. George, that’s right, just lick my arm and my shoulder, lick as far as that little tongue of yours will reach. Andy, do you have your breath yet? Can you tell me what happened?”

  “Almost,” I said, my breath hot against his shoulder. “Not yet, but almost.”

  “Just keep breathing, calm deep breaths . . . that’s it.” He just held me and George, standing calm and steady. I had never in my life been so grateful as I was in that moment that this man was here and he was so close I could feel his heart beating against me.

  “Now, when you’re able, tell me what happened. Did something happen to George?”

  I felt his big hand splayed over my back. He covered a lot of me. I felt the heat of his hand through my linen nightgown. I felt the heat of him through the front of my nightgown as well. It felt wonderful. I felt alive. I felt safe.

  I was counting his heartbeats, feeling them deep inside myself. Solid and warm and ever so steady, those heartbeats of his. I could breathe now. I didn’t want to, but I pulled back, just a bit. I didn’t want to lose the heat of him, or I simply knew I’d just freeze up and shatter onto the floor.

  “I’m all right, yes, really, I am now all right.”

  “There is no fire in your bedchamber?”

  “No fire.”

  “The armoire didn’t fall over?”

  “The armoire didn’t move.”

  “No bats came flying through the windows?”

  “No bats.”

  He cursed then. I was so surprised I nearly fell over.

  “It’s that damned Blue Room,” he said, and cursed some more. “You saw what you believed to be a ghost, didn’t you? You fancied you saw something, and it scared you witless.”

  “I did see something. It was horrible, and it was real. It tried to kill me with a knife that had a wicked curved blade. I grabbed George and ran. Here. To you.”

  If he thought that was strange, if he wondered why I wouldn’t run instead to my husband, who was only one bedchamber beyond his at the end of the corridor, he didn’t say anything, just pulled me back against him again. I wrapped my arms tightly around his back. His flesh was so warm, so smooth, and he was a man—a dangerous man. Here I was all plastered against him, and I had almost nothing on at all. A simple nightgown.

  “Oh, damn,” I said, and very slowly I began to pull away from him.

  There was a measure of amusement and something else I could not identify in his voice. “I wondered how long it would take for you to realize that you were up close against the beast, and he just might be more dangerous than whatever it was you saw in The Blue Room.” Then he sighed, a very deep sigh. “You know, Andy, the beast isn’t dangerous at all, but you just can’t bring yourself to believe that, can you?”

  I couldn’t deal with this now, I just couldn’t. “You are speaking nonsense, and it simply isn’t appropriate now.”

  He laughed. “Come with me. Let’s get some light in here, and you can tell me more about this creature who attacked you with a knife. George, be quiet, I’ll pick you up again, just give me another minute to light the candles.”

  George and I trailed after him, because I wasn’t about to let more than a foot get between us. But first, I closed his bedchamber door and locked it.

  “I don’t think the creature followed me, but I don’t want t
o take any chances. If the creature were to come in, just perhaps you would swoon with fright, and I would once again find myself in a very bad fix.”

  He just shook his head at me. “You were so frightened you couldn’t even talk as of two minutes ago, but now you can jest about it. You are really quite amazing.” He was still laughing when he managed to get the candles lit.

  He held up the branch of candles and looked me up and down. “You’re probably getting cold,” he said, and fetched me his dressing gown. He dressed me in it as if I were a child. Then he tied the sash at my waist.

  George whimpered. John leaned down and picked him up.

  “Thank you for coming to the door so quickly. Another three seconds, and I would have tried to kick it in.”

  He looked down at my bare feet. “You say the most outlandish things. It is a gift you’ve got.” He set George on the floor again, and moved the candle branch to a small table beside the door. Then he walked right up to me, pulled me against him, and began stroking my hair. It was curling wildly down my back, my night hair ribbon that secured it was long gone.

  “Are you all right now?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly, and now I knew fear from another quarter.

  “Perhaps,” he said, pulling away from me and picking up George again, “it’s time for you to fetch your husband. You know, that old man right down the corridor just on the left? Surely he is the one, not your step-nephew, to help you in this matter, don’t you think?”

  “You bastard,” I said, turned on my bare heel, and walked to the door. I unlocked it. I was pleased that my hands were steady.

  When I pulled the door open, I saw Lawrence and Thomas running from opposite directions toward me.

  Lawrence reached me first. He took in John’s dressing gown, my bare feet, my wild hair, and said, “Something happened. Are you all right?”

  I stood there, apart from him, because I had my balance again, and I didn’t want to be pressed against another man, regardless of who he was. “Yes,” I said. “George and I are both fine.”

  Thomas came to a panting stop. Even with his dressing gown flapping around his bare feet and ankles, his hair tousled all over his head, he looked beautiful.

  “What is going on here?” he said, but Lawrence just shook his head.

  “I don’t know as yet. But something has happened. Andy?”

  We were all standing there in the middle of John’s bedchamber, the candlelight flickering slightly because there was an open window beside John’s bed. I hugged myself, but that wasn’t enough. I leaned down and picked up George. I wasn’t about to let him go. He seemed to realize that something was going on here and that I needed him. He settled himself comfortably in my arms.

  “Tell them what happened,” John said, and he walked away to the fireplace to set a fire.

  Then Amelia was standing in the open doorway staring at all of us, that lovely black hair of hers streaking down her back, like a long silk swatch.

  “I woke up suddenly,” I said, and swallowed because I heard a tremor in my voice. “I don’t know why, but I did. And I saw something very ugly, not really human, and it was standing like a dead thing at the foot of my bed, still as a statue, like it wasn’t really there. I realized soon enough that it was an old woman, hideous, with tangled white hair, and when I asked her what she wanted, she said I was an abomination, and other things along that line, and that I would pay for it all. Then she raised this knife and came toward me. I threw a pillow at her, grabbed George, and we managed to get out of the bedchamber.”

  There was silence.

  John said, “Do you remember exactly what the old woman said to you?”

  I shook my head. “Perhaps it will straighten itself out tomorrow. Right now, it’s just a blur except for the abomination part. One doesn’t easily forget being called an abomination.”

  And the silence continued with four sets of eyes just staring at me.

  “Listen to me, I know you don’t want to believe me, not after what I felt in the Black Chamber and what I said happened to Amelia, but it is all true. I would not make this up. Actually, I don’t think I would even be able to conjure this up. It was terrifying. It was very real. The old woman tried to kill me.”

  There was more silence, then my husband said in a very low, gentle voice, “Certainly something happened, Andy. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Excuse me,” John said. “I’m going to The Blue Room and see what I can find.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Thomas said.

  I knew, of course, that the room would be perfectly empty. The old woman wouldn’t be there. Why would she remain?

  “You have had quite a fright,” Amelia said. “No matter what happened, dream or something else, you are still shaking. Come and sit down, Andy.”

  “No,” I said. “I want to go back to The Blue Room.” I ignored my husband, whose hand was stretched out toward me. George trotted after me. We walked down that corridor together, and I felt the curdling fear grow stronger and stronger with each step nearer.

  By the time I reached the open door, I felt numb with fear. It was a horrible way to feel. I felt helpless, and my brain just didn’t want me to move in any direction. I just wanted to shut myself down.

  George barked.

  “It’s all right,” John called out. “Both of you can come in.”

  “There is nothing here,” Thomas said, and I saw that he was gingerly moving his left hand. What the devil could possibly be wrong with his damned left hand?

  “I didn’t expect the old woman would remain to greet you after she failed to kill me. Or perhaps she meant to frighten me, if that is what she meant by me paying for all of it. I don’t know, but that knife with its curved blade was sharp. It glittered when she raised it over her head.”

  “A curved blade?” John said, and grew very still.

  “Yes. It wasn’t silver, either. It looked like burnished gold. Why?”

  He cursed under his breath, then said, “Just a moment.” And he was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I sat down on the edge of a delicate winged chair, George thankfully content to remain settled in my lap. I stroked his ears while I sat there, saying nothing, just looking into the cold fireplace.

  Lawrence and Amelia came into the room. “Andy,” Lawrence said, and came to where I sat. He kneeled beside me and took my hand. “You are in a new house. So much happened today, frightening things, unexpected things, things that could easily give the most phlegmatic of individuals violent nightmares. My God, you even fell and hit your head. Who knows what that blow to the head could produce in the dark of the night?”

  I smiled at him. Everything he said was quite true. “I did not make it up. I did not dream it. It all happened just as I told you.”

  Amelia said, “Andy, nothing like this has ever happened before here at Devbridge Manor. Has it, Uncle Lawrence?”

  He shook his head. “There have been stories, of course, of spirits in this bedchamber, of strange noises, and shadows that should not have been here, but none of us have ever seen anything unusual. It has always been servants’ tales, nothing more.”

  “No,” Thomas said slowly. “That is not quite true. I remember I was in here once, not long after Caroline died, and I was just sitting there, in front of the fire, reading, and I must have fallen asleep. Something touched my cheek, and it felt warm and yet somehow like a touch of ice at the same time. When I opened my eyes, I saw her, but just for an instant, and then she was gone, simply vanished.”

  I stared at him. I didn’t want to believe him. It sounded like a fanciful boy’s imagination at work. But then, what was I? I was a girl with a very vivid imagination.

  But I hadn’t dreamed it, I hadn’t.

  I looked up when John came back into the room. George raised his head and wuffed. I began patting him again, slowly, slowly.

  “My knife is in its place, the cabinet locked.”

  I stared at him.

 
“I collect knives,” he said to me. “One of my most valuable is a royal Moorish ceremonial knife, more than three hundred years old. It has a sharp curved blade, a fine silk red tassel attached to its handle. There are two large rubies set in the handle. Most importantly, its blade is gold, not silver. It is there, safely locked beneath its glass cover.”

  “I want to see the knife,” I said, then rose and walked toward the door before my husband could hem and haw and demand to know if I was as mad as his second wife.

  John perforce had to come with me since I had no idea where he kept his knife collection. It was in his bedchamber, of course.

  He lit more candles. All of us trailed after him, even Amelia, who was yawning and saying that it was just too much for my mind, that it was a strange dream that any of us could have had, given all that had happened today, this my first full day at Devbridge Manor.

  I said nothing, just marched after John. I nearly swallowed my tongue when I saw that knife lying there on a bed of crimson velvet. I did take a quick step back.

  “That’s the knife the old woman was holding,” I said. “I remember the tassel now. It swayed and fell back when she raised the knife. And the two big rubies, one at each end of the handle. All I remember is bright flashes of red.”

  I turned to look at all of them. “How could the knife have gotten back here so quickly?”

  “It couldn’t have,” Lawrence said matter-of-factly. “You must have seen it earlier when you came in here and it became the knife in your nightmare.”

  “No, I did not,” I said.

  “Andy,” Amelia said, coming to pat my shoulder, “You must let this go. It’s over. You are all right. George is all right. It has been a difficult day. You will forget all about it in the morning.”

  In that moment, for the first time, I wondered if perhaps I didn’t imagine the old woman, if it had been a violent nightmare, brought on by the blow to my head or the dreadful cold menace I’d felt in the Black Chamber. And there had been the slamming door in my face, Amelia trapped, calling out to me.