draught.’
‘Then that’s as well.’
Outside it was cold and John suddenly began to shiver, realizing that he was suffering from delayed shock. Elizabeth glanced at him in the cushioned interior of the coach.
‘I think a large brandy for you, my friend.’
Once inside her house he poured himself a drink and sat by the fire, reliving every moment of the sudden and terrible attack. At that moment he longed to be with Rose, reassuring her, telling her that the old woman had come and that he had survived. And then he looked up and gasped.
Elizabeth had come downstairs, not clad as she normally was but in the guise of the woman he had met on his honeymoon, many years ago. She was dressed in men’s clothes, her dark hair drawn up into a net and concealed by the hat that she wore. Her body looked long and lean and, to John’s eyes, immensely attractive.
‘God’s teeth,’ he said. ‘You’ve turned back into her. To the vigilante.’
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Now are you going to ride out with me or do you leave me to search on my own?’
‘I’ll come,’ he said, standing up. ‘Give me a second to change. But first let me kiss you. It has been a long time since I last saw you dressed like this.’
She laughed, and even that sound excited him. They clung together in a deep kiss and then she pushed him towards the stairs.
‘Change to riding clothes. We’re off to seek those two murderous creatures.’
‘If we find them it will only be the beginning.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that behind tonight’s shooting there lies another brain, cool and cunning and utterly ruthless.’
‘I am aware of that. He must be drawn into our net slowly. But we will find him, don’t you worry about that.’
‘It could be a woman who was behind tonight’s bloodshed,’ John answered, thinking of Imogen and the child she had so fortunately aborted.
‘Indeed it might,’ Elizabeth said over her shoulder as she left the house and headed towards the stables.
John thought that despite all the horrors that the evening had held for him he had never felt so alert. Every sense was tuned to high pitch as he mounted his horse and set off, Elizabeth cantering beside him. She had turned in the direction of the wild moor and he, not knowing the terrain as well as she, just followed.
It was a clear, cold night; a night of mystery and illusion. The moon was tiny, a sliver held in the arms of the old moon. John felt heightened, ready to receive every signal that the night might send him. Just for once he no longer dreaded riding out, his mind concentrated on all the sounds of the impenetrable darkness. Beneath the churning of pounding hooves came the noise of other things. Of unseen creatures making their way through the undergrowth, calling out a warning. Close at hand a vixen screamed an unearthly cry. Something altogether bigger bayed a response.
Slightly in advance of him Elizabeth rode easily, her body almost seeming part of the black beast on which she was mounted. John thought how magnificent she looked in man’s clothing and was vividly reminded of when he had first seen her, peering at her through the crack in a cupboard door while she undressed.
She must have read his mind because she turned and called out, ‘Shall we go to the Grange?’
‘I don’t know that my nerves could stand it,’ he answered.
‘Nonsense. If those two old biddies are hiding out it is the logical place for them to go.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they must have had horses tethered somewhere, and the sensible thing would be to make for the Grange. No mortal person ventures near the place after dark I can assure you.’
‘I can understand that perfectly.’
‘Oh John, don’t be lily-livered. Remember the time we went there together.’
And suddenly he did. Remembered with a certain embarrassment how he had nearly made love to her and would have done so had he not, in a great pang of guilty conscience, recalled his marriage vows and thought of Emilia, his wife.
He answered, rather shortly, ‘Yes, I recall it.’
She must have guessed his feelings because she slowed down and leant across to take his horse’s bridle.
‘John, we needn’t go there if you do not wish it. But I do feel it is worth taking a look, just in case.’
‘But it would mean climbing all over that monstrous house and after my experiences earlier this evening I don’t feel that I am up to it.’
‘Then you shall wait outside while I go in,’ she said soothingly, which was just the sort of thing to say to the Apothecary, who at once felt that he was being cowardly.
‘No, I wouldn’t hear of it, Elizabeth. I shall accompany you.’
But as they neared the gaunt building, its ruined towers and turrets reaching into the dark sky like clutching fingers, John’s heart plummeted once more.
‘Must we go?’
‘Yes, we must.’
Motioning him to be silent Elizabeth dismounted in a spinney of trees and tethered the two horses to the branches. Reluctantly John also swung down and they proceeded on foot towards the ghastly edifice.
‘I thought it better to arrive without prior warning,’ she whispered.
John could not help but grin at her. ‘You’re certain they are in there,’ he murmured back.
‘I’m not certain of anything, but it is worth a try.’
But strangely, as they approached the building, they could see that certain alterations had been made and there were definite signs of restoration work. Windows that had hung open to the skies had now been boarded up and made secure. Scaffolding had been erected against one of the walls. Various workmen’s tools were gathered neatly together in a newly built hut.
Elizabeth turned to John, her eyes wide. ‘I’d heard a rumour that someone was interested in buying the place. It would appear to be true.’
‘But who would want it?’
‘Obviously somebody wealthy with a large family. I’ve no idea of his identity though. And I had put the whole thing down to local tittle-tattle.’
‘Shall we try to get in nonetheless?’
Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes sparkling. ‘Let us do that. It will obviously be the last time.’
Their usual mode of entry through one of the sagging windows was now barred to them, but walking cautiously round they discovered a kitchen door that had worked loose and was swinging on its hinges. Moving lithely — rather like a panther, John thought — Elizabeth made her way in.
There is nothing more soul destroying than a big, empty kitchen. The whole place smelt of rot and decay, and John gazed around at filthy sinks, greasy spits and mucky ovens. The Marchesa marched onward on silent feet and the Apothecary followed as quietly as he could. They reached the bottom of that formidable staircase and Elizabeth had started to climb before he could stop her. It was then that John thought he glimpsed the real reason why she had come to Wildtor Grange. She wanted to revisit the apartments she had once used as a hideout when she had been younger and not so honest a citizen as she was these days.
She had increased her stride so that John was forced into a half run to keep up with her. He could not for the life of him remember in which direction her apartments lay and he stood in the dark, trying to get his bearings. And then Elizabeth reappeared carrying a candle. She had stripped off all her clothes and he was terribly aware of how gorgeous she looked. In fact he could not keep his eyes off her. She smiled enigmatically.
‘Do I still attract you?’ she asked.
‘More than I can say.’
‘Then show me.’
He needed no further invitation. He allowed her to lead him to those old rooms which still bore something of the perfume she had once worn, where he flung her down on to the bed. And then he made love to her, so many times and so beautifully, as if in so doing he could put the memories of that terrible wedding out of his head for ever.
