Kingdom of Shadows (102 page)

‘She’s here!’ Suddenly Chloe’s voice was shrill with fear. ‘Isobel is here!’

‘Rubbish!’ Geoffrey had paled. He took a deep breath.

Clare’s eyes had opened. She was watching them from the bed, a sad smile on her lips. ‘You’ve made her angry.’ Her voice was very distinct. Unexpectedly she began to cry.

‘My God! I’m getting out of here!’ Trying to hide his panic Paul strode towards the door.

‘Do that!’ Chloe called after him. She looked down at Clare. ‘Don’t cry, love. It’s going to be all right –’ Her hands were shaking as she glanced again at the light on the ceiling.

‘It’s all right. There is nothing to be frightened of.’ Geoffrey felt surprisingly calm as he turned away from the bed. ‘I believe it is because she has left Clare. She’s almost free …’

This time his prayers for Isobel were gentle persuasive, kind. He blessed Clare and the room, sprinkling holy water around the bed, then he had sent Chloe downstairs whilst he sat down beside the sobbing, incoherent woman to keep an all-night vigil. It was Yule, St Thomas’s Eve. The longest night.

* * *

Paul was standing in the drawing room, staring down at the dying fire when Geoffrey came down the next morning. It was ten past seven and still dark outside.

‘How is she?’ He glanced up at his brother.

Geoffrey shook his head. ‘She is still asleep. Chloe’s going to sit with her for a bit.’ He threw himself down into one of the chairs. ‘How are you?’

Paul closed his eyes. ‘Exhausted.’ He frowned. ‘Is everything quiet up there now?’

Geoffrey nodded, with a grim smile. ‘She … it … whatever it was, has gone. It’s all over. When are her parents coming back?’ He rubbed his face wearily and sipped the coffee Chloe had left for him before she went upstairs.

Paul shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ Now that daylight was returning he wanted to get away. Above all, he wanted to corner Cummin at Duncairn. He glanced up at Geoffrey who was now standing restlessly in front of the fire. ‘I’m going to have to leave you and Chloe for a few hours. I know you’ll cope.’

‘Paul! We have to get back to the parish! It’s Christmas, my busiest time –’

‘I know. Antonia and Archie will be back any moment. They will look after Clare. She doesn’t want me, you know that.’

‘Is anything really so important that you have to leave your stricken wife alone?’ Geoffrey asked tartly.

He was still badly shaken. Clare’s reaction to the service had not been what he expected. She had acted as if she had been violated – raped. He had not been sure what he really had thought would happen: a demon leaving might curse or swear or scream – he had been warned to expect that, but he had also expected a feeling of relief; a sense of evil departing.

But there had been no sense of evil in the first place, just those few angry moments when the light had so inexplicably swung to and fro below the ceiling. He shuddered, and closed his eyes wearily. Perhaps the bishop had been right. He should have left it to the experts.

Paul was fidgeting restlessly with the poker, throwing more logs on to the fire, kicking them to settle them into last night’s embers. His expression was brooding. He looked up suddenly. ‘When will you know if it has worked? Really worked.’

Geoffrey didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. ‘As God is my witness, I don’t know.’

‘Shouldn’t God let you know, then?’ Paul’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. ‘So, I gather we have to wait and see if my wife’s sanity has returned?’

‘That’s right.’ Geoffrey could feel his anger mounting. ‘And in the meantime she needs care and love and understanding.’

‘All things I’m renowned for not possessing.’ Paul straightened, dusting his hands together. ‘So, I leave her to you and Chloe who are loaded with an abundance of all three.’ He strode towards the door. ‘The roads are clearer now it’s thawing. I can be back tonight. If Archie and Antonia aren’t here by then you can leave Clare to me and your adoring parishioners will have you back in time for the first carol service tomorrow.’

Standing by the window in Clare’s room Chloe saw the Range Rover leave with relief. She had never liked Paul; now she hated him with cold, clear, unchristian loathing. She had already decided what to do about Clare. There was no way she would leave her here alone with Paul. Either Clare must come back with her to London or if she wasn’t well enough to travel, Geoff could go back on his own and she would stay in Scotland with Clare.

There was a slight sound behind her from the bed. Clare was sitting up against the pillow, clasping her knees. She looked very wan.

Chloe went towards her hesitantly. ‘How are you?’

Clare shrugged. ‘I don’t know. How should I be?’ She gave a faint smile. ‘Should I feel different? Shriven? Repentant?’ She rested her chin on her knees, pulling her long nightgown around her feet and tucking it in with a shiver. ‘To be honest, I feel tired and rather sick.’

Chloe grimaced sympathetically. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

Clare nodded. She didn’t move when Chloe had gone. Nor did she look around the room.

Her mind was clear this morning. She remembered everything that had happened the night before, and everything before that. Casta. Paul. The cage. The piece of paper. Her signature on the paper making over Duncairn to Paul –

Suddenly she was scrambling out of bed and running to the door, pulling it open.

‘Paul! Paul –’

The wooden stairs were cold beneath her bare feet.

‘
Paul
–’

The drawing room door was flung open and Geoffrey appeared. ‘Clare, my dear, what’s wrong?’ He stared at her, his heart thumping with fear.

‘Paul – where is he?’

Behind her Chloe appeared from the kitchen, a tray in her hands.

‘He’s gone, Clare. He’s gone.’ Geoffrey was trying to reassure her. He put his arm around her shoulders, shocked to feel how cold she was. ‘Come, my dear. You’ll catch pneumonia like that. Come back to bed –’

‘A paper! Did he have a paper with him?’ She glanced frantically from her brother-in-law to Chloe and back.

‘A paper?’ Geoffrey looked puzzled.

‘He had a briefcase,’ Chloe put in. ‘I saw him from the window.’

‘Oh God!’ Clare subsided on the bottom step of the staircase and put her head in her hands. ‘I’ve signed away Duncairn. I remember it all now. I’ve signed away Duncairn!’

Geoffrey and Chloe glanced at each other. Geoffrey pursed his lips. ‘Clare, love. It is already sold,’ he said gently.

‘No, you don’t understand. It isn’t. Paul lied. He forged my signature … He told me. It isn’t sold. Not legally.’ She clutched the banisters desperately.

‘Where did Paul go?’ Chloe looked at her husband, willing him to know.

Geoffrey shrugged. ‘He was in an awful hurry to get away but he didn’t say where he was going. To be honest I didn’t ask – I was quite glad to see the back of him – but he did promise he would return this evening –’

‘Then he’s gone to Edinburgh. To Mitchison and Archer –’

‘Clare, dear, even if he has, I doubt if a document such as you describe would be valid if it wasn’t witnessed.’ Geoffrey was trying to reassure her. ‘Besides, you have only to say it is not genuine.’ He was trying to hide his shock.

‘Are you sure?’ Chloe looked at him hopefully. She turned to Clare. ‘There. So, you needn’t worry. Look we’ll talk some more when you’re back upstairs in the warm …’

Half an hour later Geoffrey went up with the breakfast tray, the food reheated. In spite of himself he found himself glancing apprehensively around the room. It was full of sunlight now, the temperature average. Chloe had taken one of the bowls of hyacinths from the piano in the drawing room and brought it upstairs. The scent filled the room. She took the tray from him when he came in and put it down beside the bed then she glanced at him and shook her head. ‘You go back down. I’ll call you when she’s better.’ From the bathroom they could both hear the sound of agonised retching, followed by the rush of water from the taps.

When Clare reappeared she was white-faced. ‘I’m sorry, Chloe –’

‘Don’t be silly. Get into bed and keep warm. I’ve poured you out some tea. It’ll make you feel better.’ Chloe twitched the covers over her. ‘The trouble is you’ve nothing in your stomach. You haven’t eaten for days.’ She watched maternally as Clare drank the tea. ‘Paul’s a bastard,’ she said suddenly. ‘An out-and-out unspeakable bastard.’

‘Praise indeed from you.’ Clare managed a rueful smile. ‘Did he tell you I’m pregnant?’

‘Pregnant!’ Chloe stared at her in genuine amazement.

Clare nodded. ‘It’s not Paul’s. Don’t be shocked. Please.’

‘Oh, Clare –’

‘I was so happy.’ Clare huddled under the covers. She was aching all over. ‘It was a dream come true. I love Neil. I never knew what love was with Paul.’ She was gazing into the distance. ‘It was Paul who couldn’t have children, not me. He let me take the blame and I believed him.’ She lay back on the pillows and there was a long silence. Then she closed her eyes. ‘Will I stop having nightmares now?’

‘I hope so.’ Chloe smiled reassuringly.

‘And my daydreams about Isobel?’

‘They were more than dreams, Clare.’ With a quick glance behind her at the room, now so bright and ordinary, Chloe reached for the teacup, refilling it automatically, hoping that the gesture would be reassuring.

‘Were they?’ Ruefully Clare took the cup. ‘But they weren’t dangerous. They did no one any harm. She was part of me. Part of my inheritance, like Duncairn.’ She closed her eyes suddenly, trying to blink back the tears.

‘I’m sure Geoff did the right thing, Clare.’ Chloe tried to sound cheerful. She changed the subject. ‘You know, I am glad Paul’s gone –’

‘He was prepared to kill me to get his way, you know,’ Clare said softly. ‘To inherit Duncairn.’

‘Oh, Clare, no.’

‘Why else was he out looking for me with a loaded gun?’ Clare sighed. ‘I know him better than you, Chloe.’ She was staring into space again. ‘He’s capable of it when he doesn’t get his way and now that he thinks he’s won he wants to claim my baby as his as well. I won’t let him.’

‘Does this Neil person know all this?’

Clare shook her head. ‘He doesn’t know about the baby.’

Chloe frowned. ‘Where is he then? Shouldn’t he be with you if he loves you so much?’ She couldn’t quite keep the acerbic note out of her voice.

Clare shook her head again. ‘I said I love him. I’m not sure that he loves me. It doesn’t matter.’

‘I’d have thought it mattered rather a lot.’ Chloe was affronted. She scowled. ‘I am sorry, love. Here I am being pompous and moralistic and all you want is to rest. We’ll talk some more later, shall we? You must take care of yourself – especially now there’s a little one on the way.’

Clare lay back in the bed after Chloe had gone, staring up at the ceiling. She felt completely drained. Mentally and physically. Her mind was clear now, but it was too tired. Casta. Duncairn. Paul. Neil. Isobel. Casta, Duncairn … She couldn’t think about any of them any more.

She closed her eyes but it didn’t help. Sleep didn’t want to come either. Getting up she walked unsteadily to the window and looked out, thankful that Chloe had left her alone at last. There were shreds of blue amongst the clouds, and a sharp wind had arisen, shaking the last of the melting snow from the dark fronds of the Scots pines beyond the drive. The snow on the lawns was melting too, the soft glaze turning the surface to mirror brightness. She could see a crow plodding slowly across it, leaving a trail of footmarks as it paused every now and then to peck at something below the surface of the snow.

Isobel must have endured another winter at Duncairn, if she lived. What had happened to her? Did she ever see Robert again? Clare frowned, groping in her mind for the thread of memory which would answer her questions, but there was nothing. It was gone. She glanced around the room. It was a cheerful, sun-filled bedroom, full of the scent of hyacinths. There were no shadows now.

The silver cross with the broken chain still lay on her bedside table. Clare picked it up and stared at it, then purposefully she put it down.

Moving swiftly she pulled open her chest of drawers. There, at the back, was a half-burned candle. She took it out and lighting it, melted some wax into the saucer from beneath her teacup. She set the candle down on the carpet beside the bed then she tiptoed to the door and glanced out. There was complete silence from downstairs. Unconsciously she was murmuring a little prayer as she took the key from the outside of the lock and brought it inside. She turned it. Then she knelt before the candle.

‘Oh, Lord, let her still be there. Please, let her still be there –’

Rex picked up Emma and Julia in a company car, complete with chauffeur, for the drive to Heathrow. The boot of the car was filled with presents. Rex had spent a whole afternoon in Harrods. There were presents for Emma and Julia, presents for Clare, even presents for Jack Grant. To appease his conscience he had rung Houston and ordered a mountain of good things to be delivered to Mary at the condo, then he had rung her and she had finally admitted that she was entertaining her sister and brother-in-law and their four children for Christmas so she wouldn’t be alone. It had made him feel much better.

Julia was almost sick with excitement as they climbed aboard the plane. Already he had told them that a Sigma helicopter would be taking them on from Aberdeen.

She clutched her mother’s hand as the plane taxied away from the terminal. ‘Aunt Clare will never believe it when we arrive in a helicopter,’ she whispered.

‘Indeed she won’t!’ Privately Emma thought Clare would have a fit when a helicopter appeared out of the skies bearing the Sigma insignia. She had still been unable to reach the hotel by phone that morning, and she was just praying that Clare hadn’t changed her mind about the invitation, and that she would welcome Rex Cummin, of all people, to her castle.

She said something of the sort to Rex as the plane took off into the heavy snowclouds.

‘Hell, Emma! It’s a hotel! Of course they’re expecting us. And if for any reason she’s changed her mind I’ll take you to the next best hotel in Scotland instead.’ He grinned. Nothing was going to dampen his own excitement now. He wished he could have skipped up and down like Julia, and noticing Julia’s hand clasping her mother’s on Emma’s lap, he wished he could do that too. He contented himself with leaning towards Emma and smiling. ‘Happier now?’