And as I sat there I thought I heard a noise in the corridor.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Senara listened.
She said: “It was the wind.”
“I thought I heard footsteps outside.”
Footsteps outside the door! Footsteps retreating!
I shivered a little and was thankful that Senara was with me.
She talked of her love for Dickon and how it amazed her and him; and how she wondered how she could go on living without him.
It was dawn when she went to her bed and the castle was stirring. Only then did I sleep and when I awoke it was late into the morning.
I don’t know how I lived through the next day. There was one thought which superseded all others. There was a reason for Fenn’s absence. If he could be made to see the truth … He should be made to see the truth. What could I do? Could I ride over to him? The distance was too far in one day. I could not just slip away. Or could I? I might go to my grandmother. Then I thought of the shock it would be to her to learn of these things. The terrible trade of her son-in-law, her daughter’s acceptance of it, and finally her murder.
Yes, I was convinced that my mother had been murdered. I believed that the noise in the corridor I had heard the previous night had been the footsteps of the murderer who was coming to my room. Senara had saved me, Senara who had tried to ruin my life had saved it.
I would not have died as my mother had. She had been fast asleep—possibly poppy-juice had been given to her. Because she was unwell possets were continually taken to her. It would not have been so easy had she been awake.
I could not bear to stay in Castle Paling. The whole place had taken on a sinister aspect. I went out and walked away from it. Then I looked back at Ysella’s Tower where the goods had been stored and where my mother had once been locked in and the Seaward Tower where my father’s men lived—those who were party to his guilty secret and took a share, I doubted not, of the profits. Then Crow and Nonna where I had lived my life.
I would leave the castle very soon. If Fenn did not want me—and how could I be sure that he did?—I would go to my grandmother and live with her.
I would not stay in that castle where so many evil deeds had been done.
I thought of my father. Strangely enough, I had a glimmer of affection for him. Why, I could not understand. He had never shown me any. There was about him a strength, a power. He towered above the men I saw around him. He was a leader among them. I knew that he was cruel, that he was capable of evil deeds and yet … I could not entirely hate him. I could not inform against him. I just wanted to get away but if I did I would always be haunted by what was happening at the castle. And oh, how desperately I wanted my father to be innocent of my mother’s death.
Then suddenly I knew that I was going to stay another night in the castle. I was going to discover the truth if I could. The night before I had waited in my bed for someone to come to me, someone with murder in the heart. And Senara had come with her revelations, and because Senara was with me the murderer had gone away.
But tonight I should be alone. I should be prepared.
I did not go down to supper. I said that I was not feeling well. Whoever was afraid of what I had discovered would be able to use that indisposition to good advantage.
In my room I planned what I would do. I would not go to bed. If I did there was a danger of my falling asleep, even in my excited state. I would go into the ruelle and be there. Through the curtains I would watch if someone came into the room. But it must appear as though I were sleeping in my bed.
I took two pillows and laid them longways in the bed. I covered them up. In the darkness it would seem as though I were sleeping there.
How long the night seemed in coming. I was ready waiting behind my curtains of the ruelle. I heard the clock strike eleven.
How quiet the castle was! Did my mother have no premonition on that night? I was more fortunate than she was. I had her journal to warn me. When she was writing was she impelled to do so because it was going to play such an important part in her daughter’s life?
I sat on the pallet and I wondered what the future held. There was a great lifting of my spirits in spite of the dangers I felt all around me. Fenn might love me after all.
Was that a faint sound in the corridor? Had I imagined it. I felt my limbs begin to tremble. I felt courage sapping away.
No, it was nothing, a mouse perhaps? But it was a sound. The latch of my door was being quietly lifted.
Someone was in the room.
I peered through the curtains. The figure was moving stealthily towards my bed.
I drew back the curtains and stepped out.
My stepmother turned sharply to face me. She stared at me blankly. It was the first time I had ever seen her disconcerted.
I took the damp cloth from her hand and said: “You killed my mother.”
She didn’t answer. In the gloom her face seemed impassive. Her surprise had left her. She was calm as she ever was.
She did not speak at all.
She turned away and walked from the room. I stood there, the damp cloth, her murder weapon, in my hands.
I spent a sleepless night. I must make some plans and I was not sure what. In the morning I would speak to my stepmother; I would make her confess how she had killed my mother.
I sat on the chair which the night before Senara had occupied. I tried to sort out my thoughts. I had to take some action. If only I knew what.
During the early morning, the wind had risen. It sent the sea thundering into the caves along the coast and it sounded like voices shouting to each other. The wind whined about the castle walls like the complaining voices of those who had lost their lives on the Devil’s Teeth demanding revenge on the men who had sent them there.
I was up early. I dressed and went down to the hall. I could hear the servants bustling about. There was no sign of my stepmother.
All through the morning I could not find her, but I saw my father. He was alone coming across the courtyard from the Seaward Tower.
I went to him and stood before him, barring his way.
“I have something to say to you,” I said.
He stared at me; this was not the manner in which people were accustomed to address him, but I had lost all fear of him and when he made as though to push me aside, I caught his arm.
“I’ve discovered something … terrible,” I said.
He narrowed his eyes and I thought he was going to strike me. Instead he hesitated and then he said; “Come inside. We can’t talk here.”
I led the way to my bedroom. I wanted to tell him there, in that place where last night I had come near to death.
I faced him fearlessly and perhaps because he had always respected courage his eyes softened slightly. But his expression changed rapidly when I blurted out: “Last night your wife tried to kill me … in the same way as she killed my mother.”
It was horrible, for I saw the look in his eyes before he could veil it. He knew that she had killed my mother.
“I suspected her,” I went on. I pointed to the ruelle. “I was in there watching and waiting. She killed my mother in the same way as Lord Darnley’s murderers killed him. I learned how that was done. A damp cloth pressed over the mouth, leaving no marks … no sign. And so my mother died. And you knew it. Perhaps you helped. Perhaps you planned it together.”
“No!” he shouted vehemently. I was grateful that I could believe that.
“But you knew she did it,” I insisted; and he was silent in his guilt.
“You,” I went on. “Her husband … my father. Oh God, my own father.”
I had never believed I should see him so shaken, for I had never before seen him anything but in command of a situation. I could see, too, a certain anguish in his eyes and because I had read my mother’s journal and knew of that first meeting between them and the attraction which had sprung up, I was aware of the fact that he was looking back into the past and remembering too. He had not been a happy man since her death—yet I could not pity him.