Sands of Time (5 page)

Louisa could see him clearly now. He was sitting in a circle of Indian braves. In the centre of the circle a fire burned, lighting the darkness of the prairie night. The men were passing a pipe one to the other, each taking a long slow draw of the aromatic smoke before passing it on to his neighbour. Like them, Roger Carstairs wore buckskin trousers and a loose shirt stitched with beads; his hair was long, swept back from his forehead and held in place by an embroidered band, hung with feathers and beads. His eyes were closed.

Louisa stepped closer to him, feeling the warm prairie soil under her bare feet, smelling the fragrant smoke, the sharp wind across the grass cold on her naked skin. Slowly he opened his eyes and he was looking straight at her.

‘So, I have brought you to me, Mrs Shelley. How convenient.’ He stood up slowly stepping away from the circle into the warm scented darkness beyond the reach of the firelight.

He held out his hand towards her. She stepped back quickly, aware suddenly that she was after all still wearing her green riding habit, the train now securely looped to her waist, out of the way, and her feet, a moment before bare, were encased in her high-heeled riding boots. ‘Don’t you touch me!’ It was only in his dream that she was naked.

He smiled. ‘I won’t touch you. Not here, Mrs Shelley. Not in front of my brothers and – who is that with you?’ He peered past her. ‘Ah, Lady Douglas. My trusty and oh so incurious neighbour. So, you have drawn her into my web with you. No matter.’ He reached towards Louisa and ran his finger lightly down the buttons of her habit. ‘We will meet later, my dear, when we are both alone. You have to admit you will look forward to that as much as I shall. Our love-making was spectacular, was it not?’

‘Louisa! Wake up!’ She realised suddenly that Sarah was shaking her arm. ‘Lou! Can you hear me?’

Louisa blinked. He had gone. There was no sign of him or the Indian braves or the camp fire. She was once again in the high-roofed room in the outbuilding at Carstairs Castle with Sarah.

‘Louisa?’ Sarah seemed near to tears. ‘Please, listen to me!’

‘I’m listening.’ Louisa’s mouth was dry, her head spinning.

‘Oh, thank God! I thought you had gone mad. What happened? You were in some sort of a trance.’

‘I was in America.’ Louisa put her hands to her face. She took a deep shaky breath. ‘I was there, where Carstairs is. Near his camp fire with lots of Indian warriors. He was dressed like them –’ She was trembling violently. ‘But I wasn’t there, was I? I couldn’t have been. It was all a dream. A horrible dream!’ She caught Sarah’s hand. ‘How did he do it? He is using some kind of trance-inducing drugs. Opiates. I don’t know what. But I’m not! How did he make me go there, to him?’

The two women were staring round the room as they spoke. One wall was covered in books, safely encased behind glass, and for the first time Louisa became aware of their titles. Most were accounts of travel to distant lands, but some were about magic; drugs, shamanism, occult studies, in several languages. That was how he had done it. To Lord Carstairs oceans were no barrier. There was nowhere he could not go; nothing he could not do if he so wished.

They were suddenly aware of footsteps outside on the cobbles. Feet ran lightly up the steps to the door and it was flung open. ‘Did I hear someone call?’ A boy stood in the doorway – tall, red-haired, handsome, his eyes transparent grey. Louisa gave a gasp of recognition. This must be one of Lord Carstairs’s sons.

‘Indeed someone did call.’ Sarah pushed in front of her and confronted him indignantly. ‘I couldn’t open the door. It was locked.’

‘Locked?’ He looked puzzled. ‘Indeed no. I opened it just now without any bother, Lady Douglas.’ He gave a gentle apologetic smile. ‘Why would it be locked?’

‘I don’t know and I don’t care.’ Sarah stepped towards him. ‘Would you ask Mr Dunglass to fetch our horses. We have seen enough.’

‘But Mrs Shelley doesn’t want to go yet.’ The boy looked straight at her. ‘Surely she hasn’t had enough time to sketch the head-dress which she came to see. My father told me to come over specially and make sure she had everything she needed.’

‘Your father,’ Sarah drew herself up to her full height, ‘is not here. I fail to see how he could have done any such thing.’

‘I assure you he did, Lady Douglas.’ The boy smiled, and suddenly Louisa could see the likeness to his father and understand, perhaps, Dunglass’s obvious antipathy. The outward charm, the handsome good looks, masked an icy watchful control. This boy was dangerous.

It had taken her several seconds to compose herself enough to speak, but now she stepped forward. ‘You are quite right, young man. I haven’t had time to do all I wanted. Perhaps you would allow us a few more minutes and then we will call Mr Dunglass ourselves.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You are very like your father. He must be very proud of you.’

The boy looked startled, and for the first time they saw a hint of doubt in his eyes. ‘I don’t believe so, Mrs Shelley. He constantly complains of my behaviour and that of my brother.’ He shrugged. ‘It is only when we do small services for him, such as passing on this message, that he recognises our existence.’ He looked so crestfallen for a moment that she felt quite sorry for him, but then the self-confidence returned and once again she saw his father’s arrogance looking out from those young eyes. With a small bow, he turned and retraced his steps across the yard. To Sarah’s relief he left the door open.

‘Give me a few minutes. There is something I want to find,’ Louisa whispered, ‘and I must do a few quick notes which I can work into sketches later, then we’ll go.’ Leaving Sarah standing by the door she ran back into the Egyptian section of the room. There must be something there she could take. Something she could use as a lever against him; something he would really care about. She glanced along the shelves at statuettes and pots, carvings and pieces of broken tile. It had to be something valuable but something that would not immediately be missed. Although Dunglass did not look like the kind of man who knew or cared about what was in his master’s collection beyond the few show pieces he had described for them, that shrewd young boy would not be so easy to fool. She glanced at the glass cases around her. In one there was a selection of jewellery. Gold and enamel necklets and bracelets. Rings. She tried the lid of the case. To her surprise it wasn’t locked. It lifted easily. Reaching in she took a heavy gold ring – small and half hidden by a larger item she doubted if it would be missed by anyone except Carstairs himself. With a grim smile she lowered the lid gently back into place, slipped the ring into the pocket of her habit and turned back towards the door.

4

It was late before Louisa made her way at last to her bedroom that night. Two neighbours of the Douglases had come to dine and entertained them at the piano with a succession of Scots songs before riding home at last under the brilliant moon. Tired and content Louisa let herself into her bedroom. The lamp as before had been trimmed and lit and the soft light fell across the bed where earlier Kirsty had turned down the bedclothes.

Curled up on the pillow was a huge snake.

Louisa’s scream brought the Douglases running, closely followed by several maids, a footman and the housekeeper. Sir James strode into the room, a silver-topped cane raised in his hand. ‘What is the matter? What is it?’ He was staring round enquiringly.

Louisa pointed at the bed. Her heart was thudding so hard she could barely breathe.

‘What? Where?’ Sir James marched across and stared down at the bedclothes as his wife put her arm around Louisa’s shoulders.

‘A snake!’ Louisa could hardly speak.

‘Snake?’ Sir James took a step back.

‘There.’ She pointed, but already she knew they would find nothing. Carstairs was far too clever for that.

‘Look, James.’ It was Sarah, gently pushing Louisa aside, who stepped up to the bed ‘There, on the pillows. You can see the indentation where it lay. And there – ’ She pulled the covers back. ‘Sand.’

‘Sand?’ Sir James looked bewildered.

‘Mr Graham.’ Sarah turned to the butler who had appeared somewhat belatedly, his jacket awry as if he had hastily pulled it on. Judging by the slight aroma of whisky on his breath the disturbance had caught him relaxing in the servants’ hall. ‘Take two of the lads and search the room. How big was it?’ She turned to Louisa.

‘Big.’ Louisa’s mouth had dried. She could barely speak.

‘We’ll put you in another room.’ Sarah hugged her again. ‘Kirsty can make you up a bed, can’t you, Kirsty? You can’t possibly stay in here.’ She shuddered. ‘Oh, how horrible.’

‘I don’t understand this at all.’ Sir James was staring round the room thoughtfully. ‘The windows are shut. How on earth could a snake get in here? What kind of snake was it, Louisa? An adder? A grass snake?’

‘It was a cobra,’ Louisa whispered.

‘A cobra?’ Sir James glared at her, clearly disbelieving. ‘What nonsense. Are you sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing? Perhaps you had fallen asleep and were dreaming.’

‘She can hardly dream on her feet, James,’ Sarah put in quietly. Behind them the servants were staring round, Mr Graham clearly of the same opinion as his master, the young women looking frightened. ‘And we had said goodnight only moments before, if you remember.’

Sir James snorted. ‘All right. Go and make up another room for our guest, girls, and the rest of you search in here. Carefully. If it’s a cobra they are poisonous.’ His glance heavenwards was not missed by the others in the room. Clearly Sir James did not believe in the creature’s existence.

It was an hour later when Louisa found herself alone once more. She was in another of the plentiful guest rooms, comforted by two lamps and a cup of hot milk and the knowledge that the room had been searched as had the rest of the house. Nothing had been found in her original room, nor anywhere else, save for those few enigmatic grains of sand.

Before she returned to her room Sarah had caught her hand. ‘Will you be all right?’

Louisa nodded. ‘He took me by surprise. This time I shall be ready for him.’

‘Be careful.’ Sarah eyed her doubtfully.

‘I will.’ Louisa leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Goodnight.’

Once the others had left her, Louisa glanced round nervously. This room too looked out over the back of the house. This room too had tall windows opening onto the long balcony. Taking a deep breath she walked over and throwing back the curtains she pushed open the casement. The moon was shining across the garden and parkland throwing deep shadows under the tall trees. Nothing moved.

‘So, my lord,’ she whispered. ‘Have you used the last of your strength with that performance? Have you nothing else to frighten me with?’

In the distance she heard the eerie cry of an owl. She shivered. The night was uncannily still. She held out her hand, touching the stone balustrade. On her forefinger she was wearing the heavy gold ring she had taken from the case in Carstairs Castle. It gleamed softly in the moonlight.

‘I have one of your treasures here, my lord, do you see? It’s very beautiful. Very valuable no doubt.’

There was no response from the darkness. There was no sign that anyone had heard her challenge.

Taking off the ring she weighed it in the palm of her hand. ‘Do you remember my little scent bottle? The one you wanted so badly for your collection? You thought it contained the tears of Isis and I threw it in the Nile to stop you getting it.’ She paused turning the ring over in her hands. ‘But someone rescued it, and it came back to me. I still have that little bottle. And now I have your ring as well. And tomorrow perhaps I shall return to the castle and take something else. And then something else. And then again.’ She paused and smiled, staring out into the darkness. ‘Checkmate, my lord.’

The stonework was cool under her hands, fragments of lichen catching against her skirt as on a far away plain a white man stepped out of his tepee and bowed to his hosts before sitting down by their fire. The elders of the tribe bowed back and silently resumed their scrutiny of the flames. This was a man with whom they felt at ease. A walker between the worlds like themselves, a medicine man of extreme power. A man comfortable in the presence of the Great Spirit. They did not know where it was their guest travelled under the influence of the peyote god nor did they care. That was his business and his alone.

He wasn’t coming. Leaving the windows open onto the hot night Louisa went back inside the room. She drank her milk, then, turning off the lamps which were surrounded with fluttering moths she began to undress, half of her relieved that all was peaceful, half angry and tense with nervous anticipation. Pulling on her nightgown she unpinned her hair and reaching for her hairbrush she wandered towards the window, attracted by the beauty of the moonlight. She had put the ring on the table by the lamp; it lay there, gleaming gently as she stood drawing the brush through her long hair.

This time when she saw him his chest was bare. He wore the buckskin trousers and there were strings of beads around his neck as he stood staring in through the double windows with those strange colourless eyes. He bowed. ‘Tonight you were expecting me, I think.’

The ring. She had taken off the ring. Squaring her shoulders she looked him in the eyes. ‘Why did you send a snake to my room?’

He smiled. ‘To act as your body guard should you need one. You knew it wouldn’t hurt you.’