Scarlet Widow (39 page)

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Authors: Graham Masterton

BOOK: Scarlet Widow
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Inside the parlour, in front of the looking-glass, they stood face to face, staring at one another. Beatrice could almost feel static electricity crackling between them, like the glass globes in her father’s laboratory.

‘My son Noah – my son Noah is missing,’ she said, trying hard to keep her voice steady.

‘I know,’ he replied in that low, controlled voice.

‘Have
you
taken him?’

‘Yes.’

Beatrice could hardly believe what he had said. She started to breathe more quickly, practically panting with anxiety.


You’ve
taken him? Is he safe? You haven’t hurt him, have you?’

‘Of course not. He is quite unharmed, and fed. He has wept a little and asked for his mama, but that is only to be expected.’

‘Where is he? How could you do such a thing? I demand that you bring him back to me
now
!’

‘Please, Widow Scarlet, calm yourself. The only reason I took him was to protect the both of you.’

‘To
protect
us? You’ve abducted my baby son! How could that possibly protect us?’

‘Because it is the only way in which I can persuade you to change your mind and deed me those acres I have asked you for.’


What
? What are you talking about? Haven’t I made it clear enough that I refuse to give you any of my land?’

‘Indeed you have, Widow Scarlet, and that is why I have taken Noah, and I will only return him to you when you sign a deed of land transfer.’

‘You, sir – you are nothing but a monster!’

Jonathan Shooks shrugged. ‘I admit that I am doing business with a monster, but I am only trying to save you and your son from torture or death, or both. I am the only one who can keep this demon at bay. He grows more and more impatient by the hour to complete the task that Satan has set him. It was an extreme measure, I agree, taking your son, but I could see no other way of saving you.

‘Widow Scarlet, you are far too fair of face and figure to be burned, or gutted, or bathed in caustic. Do you want to have your hands and feet amputated? Do you want to be force-fed your baby son’s heart before it has stopped beating? Do you want to see him blazing from head to toe in front of your eyes? The demon has been known to do such things, and worse. His evil inventions know no bounds, believe me.’

‘There is no demon.’

‘I assure you there is.’

‘You are well aware that my father was an apothecary and that he taught me much of his skill in chymistry?’

‘Of course. I was a yeoman in the Society of Apothecaries myself. Your father didn’t know me, of course, and we never met, but I knew much about your father, as most apothecaries did. It was quite a surprise for me to find his daughter here in Sutton.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘It’s quite true, I assure you. It’s a very small world, after all. Your father earned himself quite a reputation from some of the papers he published, didn’t he? Very unusual, most of them, such as
Spontaneous Combustion with Oil of Potash
and
The Preservation of Organic Bodies by Means of Dehydration by Linseed Oil
.’

‘You are mocking me, Mr Shooks. My husband has been murdered and his body subjected to just such a process and you have the gall to say that to me.’

‘I am not mocking you, Widow Scarlet. Why would I? I was a very capable young apothecary, as a matter of fact. You accused me of being a charlatan, but I can assure you that I’m not and never have been.’

‘You are a charlatan and a monster, too. I insist that you return my son.’

‘You can call me what you like. But I was so good an apothecary that I was employed by a London shipping company to travel the world and seek out new cures from various cultures all around the globe. I was sent to India and to China and to Peru and to Valdivia. I was the first person to bring back wild American ginseng to London, which made me quite wealthy at the time.

‘Of course, medicine in almost all cultures is inextricably mixed with religion and superstition. How else do you think I acquired my knowledge of spirits and demons, and the various guises in which Satan appears in different countries?’

Beatrice slowly shook her head. ‘If you are such a well-qualified apothecary, Mr Shooks, you have convinced me even more that all of the so-called supernatural events that have been terrifying the people of Sutton were created by you, and you alone.’

She took a breath and then she said, ‘I demand to have my son returned to me, and I demand to have him returned to me immediately, and if I discover so much as one single bruise on his body, your demon’s evil inventions will seem like
nothing
compared to what I will personally do to you.’

‘There
is
a demon, Widow Scarlet,’ said Jonathan Shooks. ‘Even now, as we speak, that demon is holding your son, and if I go back to him without your assurance that you will make over your land, then the demon will hurt him, and badly. Perhaps he won’t kill him. Perhaps he will only cut off his arms, or his genitals, or blind him. Perhaps he will dip his head in a pot of scalding water. I really don’t know. But I do know that if you persist in your refusal, you will never see your son again the way he once was.’

Beatrice stared back at him, her eyes narrowed, searching his face for the tiniest flicker of insincerity. But he held her stare steadily, and apart from that his voice was deep and measured, almost warm, as if he were counselling her rather than trying to frighten her.

She still found it impossible to believe that there was a demon, but she did believe now that Jonathan Shooks was not going to give Noah back to her unless she agreed to sign over her land.

She turned her head to the side and looked at herself in the mirror. ‘Very well, then,’ she saw herself saying. ‘I will need to go the village and discuss the wording with Mr Norton, the lawyer.’

‘A letter of intent will suffice for now. We can go over the finer legal points later, as well as the exact location of the land to be deeded and its dimensions.’

‘Very well. If you return at noon I will have a letter drawn up for you.’

‘Can you not write one now?’

‘I need to think about it very carefully, Mr Shooks. My son’s life is at stake here, remember. To whom should I address it?’

‘You need write no name on it. For you to know the demon’s name would be catastrophic. Simply say that you are prepared to transfer your land to me, acting as proxy for a client who wishes to remain anonymous.’

He paused, and then he, too, looked at the reflection of her face and added, ‘ You have come to a wise decision, Widow Scarlet, believe me.’

‘I don’t wish to discuss it any further, thank you. When you return, will you be bringing Noah with you?’

‘Well, we shall see. If the letter is satisfactory, then I will ensure that little Noah is back in your arms before you know it.’

‘You can call him my son. I would rather not hear his name on your lips, thank you.’

‘Whatever pleases you, Widow Scarlet. Whatever pleases you.’

Thirty-two

For more than twenty minutes after Jonathan Shooks had left Beatrice sat in the parlour thinking. She could have followed him to see if she could discover where he was holding Noah, but it would be almost impossible to do that without him becoming aware that she was close behind him, and in any event what could she do even if she did manage to find out where Noah was?

Francis had followed him and although Francis had not been a weak man he had been overcome and killed.

She could call on Constable Jewkes. He was armed, at least, but he was probably drunk already and even when he was sober he was clumsy and incompetent. With Noah’s life at stake she couldn’t risk him barging in and giving Jonathan Shooks the chance to kill or injure him. Whatever Jonathan Shooks had sworn to her, she still found it hard to believe that there really was a demon with whom he was doing business.

Unless, perhaps, that demon was somebody who believed themselves to be possessed
. She couldn’t help thinking of the Widow Belknap, dancing naked in the woods and screeching for vengeance
.

She supposed that she could appeal to some of Sutton’s congregation to help her, such as Rodney Bartlett and Peter Duston and William Rolfe, but they were all family men, and after what had happened to Nicholas Buckley and Francis it was really too much for her to expect of them. Not only that, there was a risk that they would rush in as a mob and give Jonathan Shooks the chance to escape and take Noah with him, or to do him terrible harm.

After a while she stood up and went to the hutch in the kitchen for her writing materials. Before she started writing, though, she went to the trunk in the hallway and took out her father’s notebooks.

*

When Jonathan Shooks came back she led him into the parlour and handed him the letter, rolled up and tied with string and sealed with crimson sealing wax.

‘This is for your client, whoever he is. I have also made a copy for you, identical in every respect, so you can be certain that I am not trying to deceive you. Not that I would dare, with you holding my son as your insurance.’

Jonathan Shooks took the rolled-up letter and tucked it into the side pocket of his coat. Beatrice handed him the copy that she had made and he unfolded it and read it carefully, his lips moving slightly as he did so.

I Beatrice Anna Scarlet being the relict of the Reverend Francis Keyes Scarlet do hereby declare and pledge that I intend willingly and irrevocably to deed and transfer to Mr Jonathan Shooks acting as proxy for a person whose identity by our common consent is to remain confidential thirty acres at least of that demesne lying adjacent to the Sutton parsonage which I have been bequeathed by my late husband, this acreage to include both part of the orchard and the Sutton Brook. The exact dimension and specifics of the said acreage to be determined by mutual agreement.

When he had finished reading it, Jonathan Shooks nodded. ‘Very good, Widow Scarlet. You should have been a lawyer yourself. I believe my client will be well satisfied with this.’

‘If I were not the widow of a man of God, Mr Shooks, I would damn you to hell.’

Jonathan Shooks said, ‘Do you know, Widow Scarlet, you excite me more than any woman I have met for many years.’

‘What?’

He carefully put down the letter on the occasional table beside him and took a step towards her. ‘I said that you excite me, Widow Scarlet. You stirred my blood the very first moment I set eyes on you, and your spirit and determination have stirred it all the more.’

‘You had best leave now, Mr Shooks. I want my son returned to me as quickly as you can, and that is all.’

‘I’m afraid that there is one more gift I want from you before I bring back your son.’

‘You already have my word that I will give you thirty acres of my land. What more do you want?’

Jonathan Shooks took another step forward, until he was close enough to touch her. ‘I want you, Widow Scarlet. I want to enjoy with you the pleasure that your late husband enjoyed, God rest his soul.’

‘Mr Shooks, I must ask you to leave. Please go and fetch me back my son.’

‘Not until you have given me what I desire. What better way could there be to seal a bargain? It would prove your sincerity beyond a shadow of a doubt.’

‘I am widowed only a matter of days,’ said Beatrice. Her heart was beating so hard that she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. ‘You cannot ask this of me.’

‘Do you want your son returned safe and well?’

‘Of course. But what you are suggesting – it’s monstrous!’

Jonathan Shooks smiled and raised one eyebrow. He stayed where he was for a moment and then he turned around and left the parlour without another word. He opened the front door and Beatrice felt light-headed with relief. He had simply been playing with her after all.

‘Samuel!’ he shouted. ‘Samuel, come here!’

She heard Samuel make one of his whooping noises and then Jonathan Shooks came back into the parlour, with Samuel shuffling close behind him. Samuel smelled strongly of horses and saddle soap.

‘What are you doing?’ Beatrice demanded. ‘I thought you were going to go to fetch my son. I have already given you my written promise.’

‘As I said, Widow Scarlet, you need to prove your sincerity in deeds as well as words.’

‘You dare to touch me!’

Jonathan Shooks grinned at her and started to tug at his cravat. ‘Yes, Widow Scarlet, I
do
dare!’

‘Get out of this house, sir, at once! And take this fond mute with you!’

‘Samuel,’ said Jonathan Shooks. ‘Restrain this firebrand for me, if you will.’

‘Don’t you touch me!’ screamed Beatrice. ‘Don’t you dare to lay one finger on me! Caleb! Jubal!’

‘You know and I know that your men are down by the brook cutting wood and that they cannot possibly hear you, no matter how loudly you call for them.’

He took off his coat and dropped it on to the floor. Then he started to unbutton his britches.

‘Get away from me!’ Beatrice shouted at him. And then, when Samuel took a step towards her, ‘You, too! I shall see you in the jail for threatening me like this!’

‘You want to see your precious son again, don’t you? Then this is the price of his safe return. Samuel!’

Samuel seized Beatrice by her right wrist and wrenched her towards him, so hard that she almost lost her footing on the rug. She slapped at him with her left hand, but he was far too big and strong for her, and he twisted her around and pinned both of her arms behind her back, forcing them up so hard that she felt he was going to tear them out of their sockets.

‘Leave go of me! Leave go of me!’ she screamed, but Jonathan Shooks slapped her cheeks, first one way and then the other, and said tersely, ‘Hold your peace, Widow Scarlet, or I will cut out your tongue and render you as mute as Samuel.’

Beatrice struggled and kicked but Samuel’s grip on her arms was relentless, and no matter how furiously she kicked beneath her petticoats it had no effect at all except to make her bed-gown billow out.

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