Mistress of the Moor: A gripping gothic romance mystery

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Mistress of the Moor: A gripping gothic romance mystery Page 3

by Abigail Clements

‘Very well, Miss Emma,’ said Barton. ‘I will tell her to put the warming pan into the bed and to bank up the fire while you are in the bath. Are there any further instructions?’

  ‘I would like early morning tea at eight o’clock, and the maid … what is her name, by the way?’

  ‘Leticia, miss, though everyone calls her Letty.’

  ‘Then I shall follow custom and also call her Letty. Would you tell Letty that should I miss her tonight, I shall be pleased to make her acquaintance when she brings my tea in tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Very good, Miss Emma.’ Barton paused.

  ‘Was there something else?’ I inquired.

  ‘Just that I should like to say, on behalf of all of us below stairs, how nice it is to see you back at Goathlands, miss. Good night, miss, and I shall inform Mr. Henry that you will not be down to dinner.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I replied. ‘Good night, Barton.’

  My bathroom led directly off the bedroom. As I lay in the deep, hot water, letting it dissolve away all the travel stiffness and thinking how nice it was to be home again, I could hear the sounds of Letty moving around the bedroom. I deliberately waited until all sounds had ceased before I got out of the bath, as by now I had no desire for anything other than sleep, and the last thing I wanted was to get into another conversation.

  I came back into the bedroom and opened the door to the sitting room to allow the flickering firelight to play upon the bedroom walls. I turned out the gas, leaving only a solitary candle burning by the bed. I was just about to climb between the sheets when I noticed something strange.

  Nana was no longer there.

  Chapter Three

  For a moment I was somewhat nonplussed. The bed had been turned down, and I had heard someone moving around while I was bathing. I had assumed that it must be Letty. Still, I thought that it was rather strange that Nana had been moved, particularly after some person had had the rather sweet thought of putting him in my room. It must have been put there by somebody who knew me well, who knew that ever since I was three I had always taken him to bed with me.

  I searched the bedroom, not omitting the wardrobes. I looked carefully around the sitting room, but there was no sign of Nana. I felt vaguely uneasy, though why I could not see. After all, it was a small matter, and surely there was a perfectly rational explanation for the disappearance. ‘Emma,’ I told myself, ‘you are being a little fool.’ It was quite certain that Letty had taken Nana away when she had turned down the bed.

  It was with this thought in mind that I finally clambered between the sheets, sinking luxuriously into the huge, soft, feather mattress which billowed up on either side of me like a warm embracing wall. I gazed at the embroidery on the canopy over my head and gradually relaxed as drowsiness overcame me and I surrendered my body to sleep.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Emma.’

  I opened my eyes, stretched, and listened for a moment to the swish of the curtains as they were drawn back. As the daylight flooded into the room, I blinked and eased myself into a sitting position, from which I observed a waiflike figure approaching the bed, carrying a pink knitted woollen bed jacket. She helped me into the jacket and stacked pillows behind me.

  ‘Good morning,’ I replied sleepily. ‘You must be Letty.’ She was dressed in the traditional fashion of a lady’s maid: black dress, white starched cap, and apron. Two huge brown eyes looked at me out of a thin pallid face, the sort of face that was so typical of working-class girls who spent their entire childhoods without ever having quite enough to eat. She was one of those, I supposed, who at the age of twelve were turned out into an unfriendly world where, if they were lucky, they secured for themselves a position ‘in service’. Letty was one of the lucky ones. Looking at her, I supposed that she must be about fifteen. But she was already a lady’s maid, a post which guaranteed her three good meals a day, a comfortable bed to sleep in, and about five pounds a year to spend or to send home to a mother who needed it more than she did.

  ‘Yes, Miss Emma, I’m Letty,’ she replied, making a little bobbing curtsy. ‘Shall I bring your tea in now, or would you like it in the sitting room? I’ve lit the fire.’

  What luxury, I thought. I had forgotten the little things ‒ like early morning tea served in one’s room ‒ which made Goathlands so comfortable and warm. What a lovely choice: tea in bed, or sitting in a dressing gown by a blazing fire? I thought for a moment and made my choice.

  ‘I’ll take tea in the sitting room,’ I said. ‘What is the weather like?’

  ‘I think it’s all right, miss,’ replied Letty.

  ‘It looks a lovely day from here,’ I said, looking at the sunlight streaming through the windows.

  ‘Yes, miss, it’s a lovely day,’ she said. ‘I’ll just go and get your tea, miss.’

  I was soon to discover that Letty would never answer a question until she was sure that she knew what answer one wanted to hear.

  I got out of bed, put on my dressing gown, and went to the window. I gazed out at Goathlands moor, which rolled away into the distance, all warm and friendly in the autumn sunlight. Far away toward the horizon I could just make out the Roman road. This road was about two miles long. It started nowhere, went nowhere, and ended nowhere, but when it was first discovered it was hailed as one of the great archaeological finds of the era. It was the most perfect example of Roman roadworks to be discovered outside of Italy. Its chipped and broken surface was carefully tended all the year ’round by Albert Higgins, whose sole occupation this was.

  I heard the rattle of the tea tray in the sitting room and went through. Letty was placing my tray in front of the fire. It was then that I remembered Nana.

  ‘Letty,’ I said. ‘Would you bring Nana back? And please don’t take him away again.’

  ‘Nana, miss?’ She looked at me blankly.

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t know his name,’ I replied. ‘I am referring to the teddy bear which was on my bed last night. I assume that you moved it when you turned the bed down.’

  ‘Teddy bear?’ She looked startled. ‘I never saw no teddy bear, miss.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ It was my turn to be puzzled.

  ‘Honest, miss, there was no teddy bear here last night.’ The girl was obviously frightened, and I tried to calm her. ‘Letty,’ I said firmly, ‘I am not suggesting anything. The teddy bear was on my bed when I went for my bath and it was gone when I returned. It was you who prepared my room last night?’

  ‘Why, yes, miss, while you was in the bath, miss, but there was no teddy bear, I swear it, miss, I never seen no teddy bear.’

  ‘All right, Letty, you can go, and please don’t worry about it.’ As she turned to go, a thought struck me. ‘Letty, was anyone else in my room last night?’

  ‘Yes, miss, there must have been, miss.’

  ‘Who was it, Letty, did you see them?’ I asked.

  ‘No, miss, I didn’t see nobody. Nobody had any cause to come here, but I didn’t see no teddy bear.’

  ‘Very well, Letty, I believe you. Please don’t worry about it.’

  Letty left me. Had she been lying? She had looked frightened, but then she was the sort who would always be frightened, especially if she thought that I was accusing her. Though I had certainly not intended any sort of accusation. But what had happened to Nana? If Letty had been telling the truth, then someone else had been in my room while I was in the bath. But who, and why? It all seemed so senseless.

  With doubts and questions still gnawing at my mind, I finished my tea, dressed, and went downstairs to the dining room. No one seemed to be about, which did not surprise me as it was almost nine o’clock. Breakfast at Goathlands was always a very informal affair. A long hot plate was placed on the sideboard, and on top of this there would be up to half a dozen silver dishes containing breakfast comestibles such as sausages, kidneys, bacon, eggs, tomatoes, and kippers. There was always coffee. If you wanted tea you had to ring for it, and it was served fresh. The state of the servers confirmed my guess th
at I was the last one down. I helped myself to a generous portion of kidneys and tomatoes. I was really quite hungry and I finished them with relish. I noticed that the dining room clock said that it was now twenty minutes past nine o’clock.

  I had over an hour before I was due to see Uncle Josh, so I decided to go and see if I could find Honey. I rang for Barton, who appeared almost immediately.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Emma. Was there something you required?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I wanted to ask you if you knew where Honey is.’

  ‘As far as I know, he’ll be in one of the loose boxes behind the big barn, miss, unless he’s been turned out into the small paddock. I do know that he isn’t in the fields, because Sir Joshua arranged to have him brought in and shod as soon as he knew that you were coming.’

  ‘Thank you, Barton,’ I replied.

  ‘Did you have sufficient breakfast, Miss Emma?’

  ‘Thank you, it was lovely. I’m glad you remembered that I like kidneys.’

  ‘Oh, yes, miss, they’ll always be there when you are at home. Will that be all, miss?’

  ‘I think so,’ I replied. ‘Oh, if you can find a pair of wellingtons, would you leave them in the hall for me?’

  I went up to my room and got a coat and muffler. Sure enough, the wellingtons were standing in the hall. I put them on and went out of the house.

  I walked around the west wing toward the big barn. Looking up at the stout grey walls of Goathlands, I could see that they still bore the scars of that terrible fire. The scars were fading now, but here and there were still patches of wall which were scarred black. I thought of the inferno, savage enough to burn the stonework, in which my poor dear aunt had perished and in which my beloved Uncle Josh had been so cruelly disfigured.

  But these were morbid thoughts, and I cheered myself up remembering that I was soon to see Honey again. When the big barn came in sight, I was surprised at the change in its appearance. It had never been a very pretty building, for it had been somewhat neglected. It had always looked its age, which must have been about fifty years. It was therefore with some astonishment that I saw that the building had been carefully restored and newly painted a bright green. In fact, it might have been a completely new barn, though it retained the old shape. Certainly the large sliding doors, whose runners projected beyond the eaves, were new.

  The quickest way to the stables was through the big barn, and I saw that though the sliding doors were closed, one of them contained a small door through which a person might pass. I opened this and stepped inside.

  The interior was quite dark, and I paused to allow my eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. I noticed a strange smell. It was rather like the smell of one of Uncle Joshua’s horseless carriages mingled with something else, something oddly sweet and cloying. At the far end I could just discern a strange shape. It seemed to occupy quite a large amount of space, and it was certainly not a horseless carriage. I was just about to step toward it when a most terrifying sound greeted my ears.

  A huge, almost black German shepherd confronted me. His ears were back, his hackles were up, and his upper lip was curled back, revealing a most dangerous-looking set of fangs. I froze in terror, staring at this great beast. Suddenly a voice called from the other end of the barn.

  ‘Who the devil’s that? Whoever you are, don’t move and he won’t attack you.’

  The dog growled, long and low and threatening. I heard footsteps approaching from the other end of the barn, and through the gloom a figure appeared. The figure gradually took on the shape of a tall, sandy-haired man dressed in white overalls, which were liberally smeared with some black substance.

  ‘Sit, Basil,’ he commanded.

  The dog sat down but did not for a moment take his eyes off me. The man glared at me, his eyes blazing. When he spoke, his voice was cultured, though the words he used were not the sort of language that a lady expects to hear.

  ‘Who the blazes are you, and what do you think you are doing here?’ he demanded.

  ‘I am walking through the barn to the stables. As for what I am doing here, I happen to live here, and I can assure you that I am not accustomed to being addressed in such a cavalier fashion.’ I was really feeling quite indignant, but I never took my eyes off the dog.

  ‘Don’t worry about him. He won’t touch you while I’m here. It’s a jolly good job for you that you weren’t here half an hour earlier, or you might have been badly mauled. All right, Basil, go to your house.’

  The dog obediently trotted off towards the other end of the barn.

  ‘Now, young lady, I am sorry if you have had a fright, but no one, and by that I mean no one at all, is allowed in here. You would probably be quite surprised if you knew how many people would like to get in, but they are not going to. That is why we keep the dog. Now, please understand me, I don’t care if you live here, I don’t care if you are the Queen of England. I have a job to do and part of that job is to keep prying eyes away from our work; so nobody comes snooping around this barn, and that means you. Why don’t you try to be a good little girl and run away and play somewhere else?’

  I don’t think that I have ever been so angry in my life. ‘Will you stand aside, sir?’ I demanded.

  ‘And just where do you think that you are going?’

  ‘If it is any of your business, which I doubt, I am on my way to the stables,’ I answered with as much dignity as I could summon.

  ‘Well, young lady, it so happens that it is my business, and if you want to go to the stables you can walk ’round the barn,’ he replied. ‘You are certainly not coming through here.’

  Really, his manner was most offensive. Even as a child I could not recall ever having been spoken to in such a manner.

  ‘Please get out of my way,’ I said, taking a pace toward him.

  ‘All right, you’ve asked for it,’ he said. ‘This way.’

  He stepped toward me and actually seized me by the elbow, turned me round, and marched me out of the door through which I had entered.

  ‘Don’t come back,’ he said.

  There was no point in my trying to resist him, for he was obviously very strong. He put me outside and went back into the barn. I heard a bolt snap into place.

  I swung round and glared at the now locked door. How I would have enjoyed teaching that young man a lesson in good manners. I was so furious that I was almost in tears. What had they to hide? And what was that mysterious shape at the far end of the barn? It began to dawn on me that perhaps I had made a mistake in coming to Goathlands after all.

  ‘Is there something wrong, Miss Emma?’

  I turned; it was Ormerod who was speaking to me. Here at least was a friend.

  ‘Oh, Ormerod,’ I said, sniffling. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

  ‘Now, who’s been making thee cry, Miss Emma?’ It was the same Ormerod that I used to run to when, as a child, I had been scolded and felt miserable.

  ‘I’m not crying,’ I whimpered.

  ‘No, of course thou are not crying,’ he replied.

  ‘Ormerod, who is that awful man in there?’

  ‘Oh, that would be Mr. Roger. I don’t rightly know, Miss Emma. Very strange he is, he doesn’t talk to anybody and of course none of us is allowed in there. Sir Joshua knows all about it, of course. Thou’ll have to ask him if you want to know.’

  ‘I certainly shall ask him,’ I replied. ‘Your Mr. Roger is the rudest man I have ever met in my life.’

  So there was a secret at Goathlands. I did not like secrets, especially secrets that needed huge dogs to guard them. I would certainly ask Uncle Joshua and find out what it was all about, or I would not stay another day in this place.’

  ‘What are thou going to do now, then, Miss Emma?’ asked Ormerod, breaking in on my thoughts.

  ‘I have to see Uncle Josh at ten-thirty. I had hoped that I should be able to see Honey before then. I was on my way through the barn when that awful man and his dog threw me out
.’

  ‘Well, miss, thou has still got plenty of time to see Honey; he’s in the small paddock. I saw him there earlier on. I tell thee what, why don’t I walk round with thee?’

  ‘I suppose you couldn’t take me through the barn?’ I murmured. No one would dare molest me if I was with Ormerod.

  ‘Nay, lass, ’tis more than my job’s worth. Come with me and I’ll take thee round. Have tha’ brought his apple?’

  I had forgotten the apple, but Ormerod soon put that right. He produced a pair of shiny red apples from his capacious pocket and handed them to me.

  ‘Windfalls,’ he explained.

  We walked around the big barn. It did not put more than fifty paces onto the journey, but I resented every step. All the way I felt angry and frustrated that we were not going through the barn.

  ‘There he is, miss.’ Ormerod pointed. ‘I’ll be off now, I’d better be about my work.’

  Sure enough, there was Honey, head down, munching away at the grass. He was on the far side of the paddock, looking as beautiful as ever. I leaned against the gate, looking at him for a moment. His winter coat had not yet started to grow, and he still looked sleek and shiny and well cared for. A little fat, perhaps, but a few days’ work would soon fine him down.

  ‘Honey,’ I called.

  He lifted his head and pricked his ears.

  ‘Honeybunch.’

  This time he looked toward me. I could feel the butterflies in my tummy. I did so want him to remember me, but it had been eight years, and eight years is a long time by any standards.

  ‘Honey, Honey, come on, boy, don’t you remember me?’ I was going to hold up the apples, but I managed to restrain myself. He would most certainly have come for an apple, but I wanted him to come for me.

  He stared at me for what seemed an age, and then suddenly, something must have clicked in his mind. He tossed his head a couple of times and then trotted toward me. I thought that he was coming, but about ten paces from me he stopped and his ears went back as he scrutinized me once more. My heart sank; perhaps he was not going to recognize me after all.

 

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