The Price of Blood

hostage.'

'Yes,' Miranda said. 'They'll be coming for me. There's not a lot of time left.'

'You can say you were forced into it by Hutton and Steno,' I said. 'That's certainly how Vincent Tyrrell must see it. The victim. That's what you were. A tragic set of circumstances, the child of incest, an incestuous marriage, a child of your own who…nobody could have anything but sympathy for your plight, Miranda.'

'You know that's not exactly how it happened. Real life kept intruding, getting in the way. I've never looked for anyone's sympathy. I've never been anybody's victim. And I'm not going to play the part now.'

Miranda suddenly burrowed in the sports grip she had brought and produced a Stanley knife. With it, she cut the ties binding Regina to her chair and then cut mine. There had been no sound from Karen's room for a while. I assumed Regina would go to the child instantly. Instead, as if set free by the silence, Regina suddenly spoke in a voice that she had kept silent for a long time, a voice that seemed to come from a younger place within her, and what she said carried the intensity of a dream.

'It was in the stables,' she said. 'The last one, you could see the river from there. And the paddock with the trees, and the two ponies sometimes. There was always the rustle, but not of straw. Francis was an innovator there, straw could carry all manner of bugs and ticks and rot, parasites and spores that would cause the horses illness. Francis pioneered the use of shredded paper. It was so white there, the bright white that fills up a room, like when you wake up and it's been snowing, and everywhere there's soft bright light, like the first day. That's what it was like in all the stables, but most especially this one. There was a ledge above the door, and you could see the river from there. That winter, it snowed. A thick blanket. Makes the sound different in the air, as if you don't have to speak so clearly. As if everything was understood.

'I was always in love with Francis. He was my daddy and my brother, my protector and my friend. I would have done anything he wanted.'

'Did he force you?' Miranda said, seemingly unable to bear Regina 's fond, elegiac tone applied to an event that was to have such devastating consequences for her.

Regina smiled, a sad smile that chilled me to the bone. She shook her head.

'No. No, he didn't force me. I'd like to say he did, because it would give you comfort, and me at least an excuse, and maybe a shred of dignity. Later, the other one did, or more accurately, they both did, but that's to jump ahead. No, Francis didn't force me. The reverse. It wasn't in his nature, I know, he wasn't disposed that way. But I kept after him. I had decided that he would be the first.'

Miranda groaned in anguish and disgust.

'That's how I thought. And I kept it going, hints and caresses and invitations, I'd give him rubdowns after the day's work with the horses, so he'd see how well I could run things here, how I'd be a credit to him. And one day, in the snow, in the white of the stable, in the white of the snow…the rustle of the paper now, so soft in your ears…like music it was…'

It was Miranda's turn to retreat now; I could hear her trying to control her breath.

'A few months, that's all it was. A few days within a few months. He brought it to a close. We both knew it was wrong, but I didn't care. And then…and then I was pregnant. I never knew…the nuns in Scotland said they'd look after the child, but Francis insisted he knew the right family. I never dreamed for a second it would be the Harts at the Tyrrellscourt Arms. It was almost…it was almost like it amused him. Like it was a game for him. And of course, I suspected, everyone assumed it, for heaven's sake, are you two sisters, are you mother and daughter? But I didn't want to believe…couldn't let myself believe…'

'Why did he do that, Regina? Why did he place her so close to you?'

'To punish me. Just as I had punished him.'

She said the words blankly, without affect.

'What about Hutton? What about Vincent Tyrrell?' I said.

Regina 's face clouded over.

'That's where it got…I never…oh God forgive me…it was Christmas, Vincent was staying here…I was drunk, and a bit…maybe I was talking loose…flirting with Francis, who wasn't responding, and with Vincent, who was…I got angry with them both, and stormed off…and Francis came, and said, why didn't I…if I slept with Vincent, I could be with him again…so I did. It wasn't even…I'm trying to make it better now on myself, saying I was drunk, I knew what I was doing…I knew damn well what I was doing. I don't know why I wanted it…still don't…Francis was all I ever wanted…'

'But you went with Vincent just the one time. How did you know Hutton was his child, and not Francis's?' I said.

'Francis had an operation, after Mary…after Miranda was born, a vasectomy. So nothing like that could happen again.'

'And then when the boy was born, you said you couldn't raise him.'

'The child of a priest? I couldn't. I wouldn't. I let him go. Francis persuaded me it was the best thing. I was young, starting out, I didn't need that. Didn't need it.'

'But you stayed here all those years, and let them both come back into the house, and saw them come together-'

'I did everything I could to block that match. Everything. I…and don't forget, I didn't know Miranda was my daughter-'

'But you suspected. Why didn't you act on those suspicions?'

'I don't know.'

'And then there was a child.'

'There's nothing wrong with the child,' Regina said. 'She's had every test, every…they found no disability, nothing. And Francis…I don't think he enjoyed a day of peace after those children were born. Neither of us did, really. It was a kind of torture to him, knowing what he had done, never quite being able to forgive himself. I think…I think what we made was a kind of sacrifice, to live through it together. And I was blessed that Karen was given to me. Unworthy as I was.'

'Why?' I said. 'What possessed him? To experiment with human lives that way?'

Regina shook her head, all tears spent for now.

'He once told me, out in the stable, he said he thought the purest blood might make the finest offspring. That if it could work for horses…'

'But it doesn't work for horses.'

Regina nodded.

'And you went along with him,' I said. 'Why?'

Regina looked at me with what almost looked like pity in her extraordinary eyes and shook her head. Again, when she spoke, it was in a voice that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul.

'You don't understand. No one could understand who wasn't there.'

'Who wasn't where?'

Regina turned her gaze on Miranda as she spoke.

'My mother died when I was born, I told you that. But I didn't grow up here. I was taken into care, placed in a home. It was just the two boys and Da, in a small tenant cottage out the road a few miles from Tyrrellscourt, two rooms, that's all they had. Francis was fourteen, Vincent twelve. Da was a farm laborer, drinking a lot, and…well, other things. With both of them. Until Francis stood up to him. Francis put an end to that. Francis turned him out. And our da was never seen again. And Francis worked every hour God sent on farms in the area, his eye for a horse quickly noticed, training for this owner, then that one, and the winners began to come, and then the Derby in '65. Sure he became a hero in the town, more. He found this place, it was in a tumbledown condition, the family had left for England during the war and never come back, and he set us up here. Came and got me, told me my place was with him, was here, at the heart of the Tyrrells. Made sure I went to school. Sent Vincent for the priesthood.'

'And was your name Tyrrell to begin with?'

Regina almost smiled, a rueful flicker, as if still bewitched by the family mythology.

'We…we became the Tyrrells,' Regina said. 'Francis called himself that after he got rid of Da. And then he had his name legally changed. The town had been on its knees until Francis came. So anyone who tried to call us something else was quickly silenced. And soon, no one even wanted to. It was as if we had been expected. As if F. X. Tyrrell was a king in exile, come home at last to regain his throne. Without him,