He took me by the shoulders and laughed at me. "I would insist that you came here willingly, that you provoked me, enticed me, which is true."
"You are a fiend."
"I warned you of my great ancestor."
Catching him suddenly off his guard, I broke away from him. I ran to the window. There were no bars across this one. He was close behind me and in desperation I beat on the glass with my bare hands.
The glass shattered. The blood ran down my arms onto the sleeves of my dress, spattering my bodice.
"Oh my God," he cried. He was sobered. "Oh Cordelia," he went on almost sadly. "Do you hate me so much?"
I felt bewildered. My emotions were so mixed that I did not know what I felt. I was afraid of him, yes, but at the same time I wanted to be with him. It was a thought I would not admit into my mind but I did believe half of me wanted him to carry me into the room with the barred windows. Yet I had made this futile attempt to break the windows to escape. I was brought face to face with the fact that I did not know myself.
He was looking at my bleeding hands and his mood had changed. It was all tenderness now. He said: "Oh Cordelia, my dear Cordelia!" and held me against him for a few seconds. I drew away from him. I could feel the tears on my cheeks. I wanted him to hold me tightly and to tell me that in some ways he knew me better than I knew myself. I was not the practical schoolmistress I made myself out to be. There was some part of me striving to get out.
He had taken my hands in his. "There must be attended to immediately," he said.
He put an arm about me and led me to the door; and taking a key from his pocket unlocked it.
We went downstairs. Mrs. Keel came out of the library with Miss Barston behind her.
Miss Barston said: "We shall be late, Miss Grant. Oh ..." She had seen my wounds.
"There's been an accident," said Jason Verringer. "Miss Grant cut her hands on a window. Mrs. Keel, get something to put on this ... some bandages .. . You have some lotions ..."
"Yes, Sir Jason."
I sat down on a chair. I was aware of Miss Barston's scrutiny. Jason was quite calm. I was amazed and my anger against him returned.
"You do look queer, Miss Grant," said Miss Barston. "You have cut yourself badly..."
"I don't think it is as bad as it looks," said Jason. "When the blood is washed away we'll see what harm has been done. The cuts don't appear to be so very deep. The great thing is to clean the wounds. Mrs. Keel is quite knowledgeable about these things. There are often such accidents in the kitchen and she always manages to deal with them. How do you feel, Miss Grant? Ah, you look better now. Mrs. Keel won't be long." He turned to Miss Barston. "I was showing Miss Grant one of the apartments tied up in our family legends ... We were saying you would be interested to see it. Then this happened. I'll send someone over to Miss Hetherington to tell her you'll be a little late returning. Then you can wait and go back with Miss Grant in the carriage. Miss Grant is certain to feel a little shaken after this. One of the grooms can take your horses over when he goes with the message to Miss Hetherington."
How neatly he explained everything and how lightly he managed to introduce normality into the accident. I admired him while I deplored his expert manner in extricating us from an embarrassing situation. No doubt he had had a great deal of practice. I hated him for his suggestion and for his attempt to force me, and I was really rather amazed that he had so quickly given up his intentions at the sight of my blood.
I hated him, I assured myself vehemently ... far too vehemently.
I was completely shattered by the experience and could not bring myself to talk of it. I answered questions as briefly as I could. Sir Jason had been showing me some of the apartments, I had unthinkingly put out my hands and broken the glass, cutting myself. Yes, certainly I had felt most embarrassed. I did not know whether it was particularly valuable glass. Yes, I must have put my hands out with some force. No, Sir Jason did not seem put out. He was most concerned about the damage I had done to myself. His housekeeper had bound up my wounds after carefully washing them and applying something; and Sir Jason had sent us back in his carriage.
Daisy looked at me quizzically, but she did not probe. I think she had some idea that if she did, something unpleasant might emerge and wisely she left it alone.
I was excused lessons for a day.
"That sort of thing is a bit of a shock," said Daisy.
So I lay on my bed alone in my room and went over everything that had happened. The man was a monster, that much was clear. I must never be alone with him again. I had saved myself from what was called "a fate worse than death". The phrase had always made me laugh but I was a little more sober about it now. My imagination would not give me any rest. I kept thinking of what would have happened if I had not put my hands through the glass. I dreaded that happening ... or did I?
What had he said about a prim schoolmistress? Was I one? I supposed I was to some extent. My post made me so and I should get more so every day. I saw myself years ahead-white-haired, dignified like Daisy Hetherington ... and as efficient. I could be sure of that, even though I did have my foolish moments. Had Daisy ever ...?
Alone with my thoughts I could at moments be honest. He was right. There was another woman beneath the schoolmistress. He knew she was there and he had done his best to release her. Yet he had been halted in his determination by the sight of a little blood. There had been a concern, a tenderness ... Oh, how foolish. I was trying to make excuses for him.
Stop thinking of him, I admonished myself. And never give him such an opportunity again.
It was three days after the incident. My wounds were healing thanks to the prompt treatment I had received and the lotion Mrs. Keel had given me. I felt calmer, getting more in command of myself, telling myself that I had given up to foolish , emotions because I had been overwrought.
I saw him now as he was - an arrogant sensual rake who thought any woman who appealed to him was fair game.
Not this one, I said to myself firmly.
I went into the town and called at the post office to buy stamps. Mrs. Baddicombe was serving someone but she looked up with pleasure at the sight of me.
She finished serving and waited until the bell over the shop door rang as the customer left.
"Well, Miss Grant, it is nice to see 'ee. How's the hands? I heard about your accident. Nasty, wasn't I flushed slightly. Did the woman know everything?
"They're getting better," I said. "It wasn't very much."
"And all is well with the young ladies? Have you heard the news?"
"News? What news?"
"She be gone ... disappeared ... gone clean away."
"Who would that be?"
"That Mrs. Martindale, of course."
"Where has she gone?"
"That's what we'd like to know."
"I believe she pays frequent visits to London." "Well, this time she be gone for good and all." "How do you know?"
"The house be all shut up and Mrs. Keel at the Hall has sent servants down to clean it up. They do say Gerald Coverdale be going to move in. That house of his ain't big enough now he be married with two children. They say he have had his eyes on it for some time. It can only mean she's gone for good."
"But how can you be sure?"
"I had her what does for the Coverdales in here only this morning. She says Sir Jason has told 'em they can move in when they like. I do wonder what's happened to her ... that Mrs. Martindale."
"I don't think she can have gone off just like that."
Mrs. Baddicombe lifted her shoulders. "There's no knowing. She was got rid of fast."
There was speculation in Mrs. Baddicombe's inquisitive little eyes and I felt I could not remain in her shop. I wanted to get away to think about what she had said. What was she hinting?