Chapter Twenty-Three
“H elp! Help me!”
Diana flailed frantically in the fast-moving river. She gasped as an enormous rock appeared before her. Just as she was about to bash into it, the current swept her around the obstruction and spit her out the other side.
“Help!” The frigid waters rushed along at a breakneck pace. Diana knew the river’s destination: its wandering course eventually wound down through a cleft in the cliffs on its journey to the sea. She was doomed.
She struggled to stay above the surface, but her long skirts, heavy cloak, and half-boots weighed her down. Kicking and thrashing, she rose, gulping air, only to be pulled down yet again.
Diana wrenched at the clasp on her cloak, ripped it from her body, and watched the garment float away. It made no difference. The merciless current pulled her along and down again, holding her in its grip beneath the water until she was desperate to breathe.
No, no, no… Was she going to die?
All at once, a rush of sound and motion surrounded her. Urgent arms grabbed her around the waist and chest. She was being pulled up, up, up, until she broke the surface and with a great gasp inhaled the sweet taste of air.
*
“You’re lucky to be alive, Miss Taylor,” said Mrs. Gwynn.
Diana lay in her bed, shivering beneath the covers as the housekeeper and Ivy looked down on her.
“It’s a miracle Mr. Nankervis happened by and heard you call out,” Ivy exclaimed.
Diana had expressed her profuse gratitude to Mr. Nankervis, who had insisted on accompanying her back to the house and refused to leave until he felt certain she would be well cared for.
Captain Fallbrook was still away, visiting tenants at the far edge of the estate. The doctor had come and gone. Worried that Diana might have caught a chill, he’d insisted that she keep to her bed and had given her something to help her sleep.
“Such a terrible accident.” Mrs. Gwynn clicked her tongue. “But it’s no wonder you fell. The footbridge can get wet and slippery in the fog, and that old railing should’ve been fixed ages ago.”
“It wasn’t an accident,” Diana insisted. She had been trying to tell them that for hours, but no one was listening. “Someone pushed me off that bridge. Whoever it was, they knew I planned to walk to the village this morning.”
“There, there, Miss Taylor,” Mrs. Gwynn said calmly. “You’re overwrought and imagining things. After all, you nearly drowned.”
Ivy placed a bell on Diana’s bedside table. “Just rest now, miss. Ring if ye need anything.”
Diana tried to protest again, to make them understand. Someone wants me dead. The same someone who killed Sir Thomas. But the medicine stole her power of speech, and she drifted off into a heavy sleep.
Time passed in a feverish haze. She was cold. So cold. Her teeth chattered. People appeared and disappeared, hovering over her. Mrs. Gwynn. Mr. Emity. Hester. Ivy. Was that the captain? She recognized Mr. Nankervis’s kind but worried face.
“If he’d come a minute later, it would have been too late,” someone said.
“The doctor fears she might die,” whispered someone else.
“She will not die,” asserted another deep voice.
A cup was forced to Diana’s lips. “Drink this.” She swallowed something hot and salty, choked, and fell back to sleep.
Diana lost all track of time. What day was it? Was it even day or night? One moment, she felt as though she were being consumed by a volcano and then next as if she were immersed in an arctic bay.
When she slept, she was besieged by dreams. On the beach with Miss Fallbrook, sculpting letters in the sand. Climbing up the tunneled passageway from Smuggler’s Cave by lamplight. Strolling through a field of golden daffodils with the captain. He took her in his arms, a molten look in his eyes. “I have been wanting to do this for weeks.” He pressed his lips against hers.
Diana awoke, her heart pounding in her chest. She lay still for a long moment, savoring the dream, before she opened her eyes. Her bed chamber was lit by a single candle and the glow from the hearth. Rain pelted the windows. Ivy and Hester sat beside her bed.
“Ye’re all right, miss.” Ivy gently dabbed Diana’s perspiring forehead with a cloth.
Hester brought a teacup to Diana’s lips. “Drink this. It’s beef tea.”
Parched, Diana took several sips. The hot, meaty brew was delicious and quenched her thirst. “Thank you.”
“I’m so glad ye’ve come to, miss,” Ivy said.
“The doctor weren’t sure ye would. But we never gave up hope.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Two days,” Ivy replied.
“Two days!” Diana couldn’t believe it. “Have you been taking care of me all this time?”
“It was mainly Mrs. Gwynn,” Hester replied. “But Ivy and I and others filled in.”
Diana was surprised to learn that the housekeeper had taken such interest in her. “You are so good to me, all of you. Thank you.” Diana’s thoughts turned to the gardener who had saved her life. “Is Mr. Nankervis all right?”
“He be fine, miss,” Ivy answered.
“I hope he knows how grateful I am to him.”
“He does. Came to see ye twice now,” Hester said.
Had Captain Fallbrook come? Diana didn’t want to betray her feelings by asking. “Was Miss Fallbrook here?”
The two maids exchanged a glance. “We haven’t seen her, miss,” Ivy replied.
Diana wasn’t surprised, considering their last, heated conversation. Somehow, she had to smooth that over.
“I best return to my duties now.” Hester rose. “I’ll leave ye in Ivy’s capable hands.” Diana thanked her again. Hester left.
“Ye’re lucky, miss.” Ivy clasped her hands and shook her head. “If not for Mr. Nankervis, Morwenna would have had her revenge again.”
“Morwenna?” Diana looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” Ivy replied gravely, “ye’re in love with Captain Fallbrook, aren’t ye?”
Heat infused Diana’s face. “No,” she lied. Were her feelings for Captain Fallbrook so obvious?
“He’s in love with ye, miss. I can tell.”
“He is not.” As she said it, Diana questioned her own words. She had told herself there was no future for her and the captain. That she was only a dalliance, the woman at his latest port of call. But what if that weren’t true? What if…
I have been wanting to do that for weeks now. I could not help myself.
He had kissed her. He had, many times, regarded her with what could be interpreted as affection. Was it possible that Captain Fallbrook did have feelings for her? Could they… might they…
Hope rose within her, a hope she had never allowed herself to consider.
Perhaps , she thought, it is time to put the past behind you. She had spent far too long, she realized, being afraid to care for or trust a man—so worried that she would be hurt, she hadn’t allowed herself to feel .
“Sometimes, folk are in love and don’t even know it,” Ivy was saying. “But Morwenna knows. It’s a good thing Mrs. Gwynn were never a governess, or she would have drowned a long time ago.”
Diana reeled in her thoughts and redirected her attention to the housemaid. “Mrs. Gwynn? What do you mean?”
Ivy hesitated, as if the remark were something she hadn’t meant to reveal. “Well,” she went on hastily, “Mrs. Gwynn worshipped the ground Sir Thomas walked on. She and the baronet were… close, is all I’m saying. If she’d been a governess, Morwenna might have put an end to her, same as she tried to do to you.”
Diana had noticed Mrs. Gwynn’s reverence for her former master. Had the housekeeper been in love with Sir Thomas? Was it possible that they’d had a love affair? It was an intriguing thought.
“Ivy, listen to me: Morwenna is not real. Neither is the curse you keep going on about.”
“They are real, miss.” Ivy leaned forward with a worried frown. “The light in the north tower—it came back.”
“When?”
“Last night. I didn’t see it, but Mrs. Gwynn and Mr. Emity did.”
Diana didn’t know what to make of that.
“It’s a sign, miss. Morwenna knows about ye and the captain, and she tried to drown ye.”
“What happened at the river has nothing to do with my relationship with Captain Fallbrook, nor with mermaids or curses. I did not slip and fall off that footbridge. Someone pushed me.”
“Ye keep saying that, miss, but…” Ivy tilted her head skeptically. “Why would someone do such an evil thing?”
“Because I have been questioning the circumstances of Sir Thomas’s death. I don’t believe he took his own life. I think someone may have killed him.”
Ivy looked shocked. “Who would have wanted to kill the baronet, miss? Unless…” She broke off and frowned.
“Unless what, Ivy?”
“Never mind. It’s nothing.”
“Ivy. Do you know of someone who might have wished Sir Thomas harm?”
“I’m sure I’m wrong. I don’t want to say.”
“This is important, Ivy. If you know something, please tell me.”
Reluctantly, Ivy sighed. “It’s a terrible thought, miss. But all these months, there’s something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind.”
“Go on.”
“The night before Sir Thomas died, he and Captain Fallbrook had a row. I didn’t mean to listen, but they spoke so loud and all. The baronet were fearful angry with the captain. He said some terrible things, blamed Captain Fallbrook for what happened to his wife and son and then… he said he was going to change his will and disinherit him.”
*
Diana strode along the cliff path. A seagull flapped along beside her—but strangely, it was flying upside down. Captain Fallbrook approached. He carried no stick. His leg was perfect—miraculously healed.
“I love you,” Diana told him, hoping to hear him say the words back and yearning for him to take her in his arms.
Instead, his eyes flashed with fury, and his tone was menacing. “I told you to leave it alone. But you will not give up. You have to die.”
Diana fled in terror. His footfalls pounded on the path behind her. She felt the impact of strong hands as, with a mighty shove, he pushed her off the edge of the cliff. Diana screamed as she plunged towards the jagged black rocks below.
With a gasp, Diana awoke.
The curtains were parted, revealing an early morning sky that poured down with rain. A fire burned in the grate, doing little to ward off the chill. A teacup sat on her bedside table. With effort, Diana propped herself up, took several sips, and lay back down again. She sensed that her fever was gone.
The awful nightmare haunted her. In her mind, she saw again Captain Fallbrook’s malevolent glare and heard again the angry words he had hurled at her in her dream:
“I told you to leave it alone. But you will not give up. You have to die.”
She could feel the impact of his hands when, in her dream, he had shoved her off the cliff. It was exactly like the impact she’d felt when she’d been pushed off the footbridge.
The footbridge.
A sudden cold dread filled Diana’s every pore. The idea that Captain Fallbrook would try to kill her… it was absurd.
Or was it?
It was the captain, after all, who had sent her on that errand to the post office, insisting that it be taken care of first thing in the morning, when the fog was always at its worst.
Could it be that… No ! Captain Fallbrook would never wish her harm.
But Diana’s stomach clenched as she recalled his anguished remarks about the boating accident that had taken Lady Fallbrook’s and her son’s lives.
“I killed my aunt and cousin. And now my uncle, too. These are facts I cannot escape.”
Diana had dismissed them as the misguided beliefs of a deeply troubled man. But what if they were not misguided beliefs?
What if they were admissions of guilt?
The captain had maintained that he’d had no interest in inheriting Pendowar Hall—but what if that wasn’t true? What if, as she’d suspected when he’d first uttered the words, it had just been a ruse, to present himself as the reluctant heir?
Diana sat up in bed, her mind reeling with disbelief. No, no , her reason countered. Do not go down this path. It leads to madness. Captain Fallbrook was a good man. He would never murder anyone in cold blood.
But she could not help it.
His father, a second son and a clergyman, had had no home to leave his son when he’d died. Pendowar Hall was an ancient and valuable estate that had been in the Fallbrook family for centuries. Had the captain secretly coveted it all along? If so, what might he have done to obtain it?
Other than his uncle, Robert Fallbrook had been the only person standing in the way of his inheriting Pendowar Hall someday. Was it possible that the captain had been behind that boy’s death as well?
Had her instincts been right about that plank she’d found on the beach? Had it come from the sailboat that had met its horrific end three years ago? Captain Fallbrook had access to the woodshop and all its tools. Counting on his own strong swimming abilities, he could have deliberately sabotaged that boat and set sail before an impending storm.
Diana covered her face with her hands. It can’t be true. It can’t be. And yet…
“Something bad always seems to happen when William comes home,” Miss Fallbrook had said.
The tragedy that had killed young Master Robert had claimed the life of his mother as well. With horror, Diana recognized: it was an ingenuous touch. Lady Fallbrook’s death by drowning called back the Mermaid’s Curse. It explained away the incident in the eyes of every superstitious person in the parish. That it also drew his uncle’s ire—that he blamed the captain for the accident—was a pill he’d had to swallow to achieve his prize. And oh, how beautifully he had played it, feigning to be guilt-stricken, a man who “could not forgive himself” for the very deaths that he had orchestrated!
What about the lights in the north tower? They had begun after Lady Fallbrook’s and her son’s deaths, stopped for three years, and started up again after Sir Thomas’s death. Whenever the lights had flashed, Diana suddenly realized, Captain Fallbrook had been at home. Was he behind that as well? Had it all been a ploy to keep the Mermaid’s Curse alive, to deflect suspicion from himself?
With Robert Fallbrook out of the way, perhaps the captain, secure of his future inheritance and occupied by his naval duties, had been content to bide his time and wait for his uncle to die a natural death. But then, Captain Fallbrook had been injured. There was no guarantee that he would return to sea again. He had come home to face an uncle who blamed him for the deaths of his wife and son… and had threatened to disinherit him .
That must have been the breaking point , Diana thought. The captain couldn’t risk losing everything then. Perhaps he’d learned that his uncle had had an appointment with Mr. Latimer the next morning. He’d had no choice but to get rid of his uncle before he could revise his will.
Captain Fallbrook was the one who had “discovered” the suicide note, which—having access to all the drafts of Sir Thomas’s correspondence—would have been easy to forge.
And so, he had risen early, and knowing Sir Thomas’s customary walking route, had lain in wait—and pushed him off the cliff.
Just as—fed up with Diana’s dogged determination to find the truth—he had pushed her off the footbridge to silence her.
Diana reeled with horror. The signs had been there all along, staring her in the face.
Captain Fallbrook was a murderer three times over. Nearly four times, for he had tried to kill her as well. Not long after her arrival, she’d told him that she’d come to Pendowar Hall to learn the truth about Sir Thomas’s death! The day she’d had her near accident on the cliff path, he could have moved the warning sign. He could have also staged the accident in the library—she’d slipped and fallen from the ladder just hours after he had left for Town.
Mrs. Phillips, she saw now, had been right all along. She’d fingered the captain from the start. Diana should have listened—and followed her own instincts. How many times had she warned herself not to trust Captain Fallbrook? Just as she’d feared, he had been keeping a secret—and a monstrous one at that.
How could Diana have been so blind?
How could she have ever thought she loved him?
Heart pounding, Diana got up and hastily dressed.
Ought she to go to the parish constable? No, that would do no good. Why should Mr. Beardsley listen to her? She had not been here when any of this had happened and she had no proof of anything, only theories.
But she couldn’t do nothing. She wasn’t safe. Having failed to kill her this time, the captain would try again. She must get away. But where?
She could go to the vicarage. Surely, Mr. Wainwright would provide her shelter. A glance out the window, however, told her that getting to Portwithys would be no simple matter. It had been raining all night and was still coming down in buckets. The courtyard was nearly floating, which meant that the road and every path would be deep in mud.
Still, she had to try. She looked for her cloak, but it was gone. Then she remembered: it was probably lying on the bottom of the river. All she had was a lightweight jacket. It would have to do. Diana shrugged into it and grabbed her umbrella when a light knock sounded on the door.
The door opened and Captain Fallbrook strode in.