But I had to see. I had to assure myself. It had not been a dream. I had seen him lying there. I had seen his elaborate waistcoat stained with blood.
I went to the foot of the stairs and started up. What a silence there was in that house! The silence of death. My footsteps seemed to make a great deal of noise on the wooden stairs.
I had reached the balcony. I stared.
There was nothing there.
But I had seen him! How long ago? How long had it taken me to get home and back? He had been lying there. I had seen him.
I would not believe I had imagined him. I had looked on his distorted features. I had seen the blood on his clothes.
This was getting more and more like a wild nightmare.
I looked closer. There was a stain on the wooden boards. Blood!
No, I had not been mistaken. I had seen him lying there and someone had taken him away.
I turned and fled down the stairs. I came out into the cold night air. I went to my horse and mounted.
And then I saw it … the flickering light among the trees. Someone was there.
Who? And what was that person doing?
I dismounted. I had to know. I tied up my horse again and I went back through the gate. I did not go into the house but towards the shrubbery, and there, hidden by the bushes, I watched that flickering light.
Someone was there … digging. And I knew that it was a grave which was being dug.
Whoever it was who had killed Beaumont Granville was burying his body in a grave.
I was filled with a terrible fear. I leaned against a bush. I must not be seen. I said to myself: Don’t look. You know.
I stood there and covered my face with my hands.
I had betrayed my secret. I had kept it for so long because I had always feared what might happen if the events of that terrible night were known. I had feared just this.
I should never have told.
I recognized the digger. Of course I recognized him. Did I not know him as well as I knew anyone?
I saw Leigh’s face clearly in the moonlight and felt an impulse to go to him.
But something stopped me. No, if the body were carefully buried, if all trace of the murder were removed, it might be that no one would discover that Beaumont Granville had been murdered at Enderby Hall.
I went back to the house. I mounted and rode away.
When I reached Eversleigh Court I was in a state of exhaustion. I went to my room and fell onto my bed.
After a while my mother came in.
“My dear Priscilla, you look ill,” she said. “What is the matter?”
“I have a dreadful headache,” I told her. “I just want to be quiet and lie in the dark.”
“What a pity. It was going to be such a happy homecoming for Leigh. Where is he? I thought you and he were together. I shall have to put dinner back.”
“I shan’t come down tonight,” I told her. “I feel too ill.”
“We shall have to have the feasting tomorrow, and if you are not better I shall call the doctor in to see you.”
“Oh, dear Mother,” I said, “I am so sorry.”
She kissed me. “It’s nothing, dear child. There is tomorrow. It will be all right then. I’ll leave you now to rest.”
I lay in the darkness. Then I got up and undressed. I must pretend to be asleep because I could not speak to anybody yet.
It was nearly two hours later when Leigh came in.
He came quietly and I pretended to be asleep. He came to the bed, holding a lighted candle and looking down at me. I kept my eyes shut and when he turned away I opened them. I saw his muddied clothes and I felt sick with fear.
He was a long time washing the mud from himself.
That night we lay side by side. I had not spoken to him since his return, pretending to be in a deep sleep. He did not seem to want to speak either. We lay side by side through the night, feigning sleep, but I was aware of his wakefulness.
The Revelation
LOOKING BACK, I CANNOT think how I lived through the next few weeks. The memory of Beaumont Granville was always with us.
The next day I had gone out to that spot where I had seen Leigh among the trees. It was clear that the earth had been disturbed and I knew that the body of Beaumont Granville was lying underneath it.
I was almost beside myself with grief and anxiety. Somehow I had always known that that night which I had spent with him had not been the end. It was only the opening of a hideous tragedy. It was like a macabre masque and this was the inevitable ending.
The affair at Venice had been the prelude. The attempted abduction and the thrashing had set the stage for what was to come.
Leigh was a murderer because of what I had done. I had always known that he would kill Beaumont Granville if he learned what had happened. His nature was one of impulsive passion. When he had heard what had happened, he had planned to kill him and he had done so without delay. Then he had dug his grave and buried him.
Murder is a fearsome thing. I suppose anyone who has committed it can never forget it. I had come near to committing it myself. But should I have fired the fatal shot when I had come face to face with my tormentor? I began to wonder. Instinct told me that I would never have done it. I could never have killed another human being whatever the provocation. But I could almost wish that I had done it myself rather than that Leigh should.
It had been my tragedy. I had made the decision to save my father’s life. I should have been the one who took that last action.
But I could never have done it. I realized that now.
And now what was next? I was sure it was not finished.
For a whole week nothing happened. Leigh and I were like strangers. We could not even make an attempt at leading a normal married life.
He seemed as though he did not want to come near me, and yet I was aware that he was yearning for me. I took refuge in illness. It was not difficult.
My mother sent for the doctor, who said I needed to eat more. I was exhausted. I must rest and eat nourishing food, or I might go into a decline.
Carlotta came to see me. I believe she had to be persuaded to do so. She was aloof and sullen.
Harriet came. “What on earth has happened to you?” she demanded. “You are so wan. You haven’t been yourself for a long time. What is it?”
I repeated what the doctor had said.
“Carlotta is disturbed,” she said. “She hasn’t heard from our romantic hero for some time.”
“Oh?” I said faintly.
“No. Apparently he had been at Enderby and he has just disappeared.”
“At Enderby!” I said blankly.
“Yes. The empty house. It’s hers, of course, and it seems he went there so that he would be near and she could go and see him. Then one day … he’s gone. She thought he had to go to London and didn’t have time to tell her. She’s anxious now to go to London.”
I said nothing.
“She’s determined to marry him,” went on Harriet. “I expect she will. Once she’s made up her mind she doesn’t rest until she gets what she wants. You’ll have to get reconciled, Priscilla.”
I turned my head away listlessly.
“Well,” said Harriet, “it’s life. If he’s a bit of a rogue she’ll get used to it. The young have to live for themselves, you know. No use trying to set them on the straight and narrow path before they have explored the byways.”
I wanted to shout at her: Go away. I can’t bear any more.
Christabel came to see me. She soothed me because she did not talk about Beaumont Granville but herself. She wanted another child. She thought she ought to have one. She knew it was what Thomas wanted more than anything.
“I thought you were supposed not to,” I said.
“It would be dangerous, they said. But I think young Thomas needs a brother or sister.”