The Ravenswood Witch

Chapter 6

6

Marcus and Luna sat together in the drawing room the following morning. He’d spent much of the previous afternoon sharing various details of his life with her: his upbringing and schooling, along with the importance of Ravenswood to the Greybourne family. The facts, if not the emotions, pertaining to his marriage were covered, but he avoided eye contact as he talked of the real Luna’s misguided supernatural practices, blaming her ill health and associated delusions.

The whole situation remained utterly bewildering. This man had declared her to be Mrs Greybourne to help her evade the law and allow him to imminently claim an ongoing inheritance payment, but the woman was nowhere to be seen and no one seemed unduly concerned. It also transpired that his wife was known to the locals as the Ravenswood Witch and, whilst such accusations were not as perilous as in centuries gone by, it was still a dangerous position for her to put herself in – particularly if the woman was anywhere nearby. It was not wise to annoy someone who professed to have magical powers, even if, as Marcus insisted, they were only in his wife’s head .

‘The clerk from the solicitor’s has arrived, sir. Shall I show him in?’ Mrs Webber enquired.

The fun and games were to begin and the imposter had a very important role to play. I am Luna Greybourne, she repeated in her head, and I must convince the visiting gentleman that this is so.

The housekeeper announced Mr Meyer – a young fellow with a serious face and a nervous manner. Marcus directed him to a seat as the guest cast anxious eyes at Luna. He removed a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket and took a small bundle of papers from his leather case, balancing them on his knees, unsure of quite how to proceed.

‘I don’t wish to take up too much of your time, Mr Greybourne, but the terms of the allowance state that a representative of Crooker and Fairbrother must establish that your wife is alive and flourishing on a yearly basis in order for the monies to continue to be paid.’

‘Absolutely. My wife and I are perfectly happy with this arrangement. We have nothing to hide.’

The clerk gave a curt nod and returned his focus to the documents before him.

‘It says in my notes that Mr Buckle was concerned about your health last year, Mrs Greybourne. You were restless and erm, challenging.’ He coughed, clearly paraphrasing whatever had been written.

‘I was unforgivably rude, as I recall,’ Luna said, looking up to Marcus and receiving a grateful glance in return. Encouraged, she continued, ‘…For which I apologise unreservedly. I’ve been unwell for several years, and I know my poor health has been of immense concern to my husband, but I do feel we have turned a corner. Despite my unfortunate broken ankle, I hope you can see I am much improved.’

The visitor peered at her through his spectacles .

‘I didn’t conduct the last interview, so it is difficult for me to comment. To my thinking you are unnaturally pale, although my colleague noted that you were practically skin and bone on the previous visit and you do appear to have regained some weight.’

‘And her mind is much more settled,’ Mr Greybourne said, walking over to her and standing protectively behind her chair. She felt him place a hand on her shoulder and the warmth of it surprised her. Without thinking, she reached her own hand up to cover his and felt him freeze for the smallest of moments. She squeezed his fingers and then turned her head to place her lips on his warm knuckles, dropping a gentle kiss there. It was what people in love did. She had witnessed it on so many occasions. But Marcus slid his hand away almost immediately, as though she’d burned his flesh with that simple act.

‘My husband has been very kind and most attentive, nursing me back to health.’ She tilted her head back up to meet his eye. ‘I couldn’t have got through this last year without you, darling,’ she said.

Both men frowned. She noticed her husband’s first and then turned back to Mr Meyer, who was frantically scribbling notes with a confused concertinaing of his brow. Had she said something wrong?

There followed a few straightforward questions about how she spent her days, and enquiries as to any ailments she’d had in the previous twelve months, but nothing too taxing. At no point did the young clerk question her identity, and he seemed largely content, if somewhat surprised, by her health and eloquence. He shuffled his papers together and she began to worry that he would be suspicious of such a dramatic recovery. After Mrs Webber’s shock announcement, she had quizzed the housekeeper further and discovered that the woman she was claiming to be was wholly responsible for the destruction of Ravenswood – from the scribbling on the walls to the smashed and broken furniture. Mrs Greybourne, it seemed, was not of sound mind, and she felt she should address this.

‘Please don’t think some miraculous cure has been found,’ Luna said. ‘There are still days when I am not as in control as I would like. I continue to have melancholy periods and dark thoughts. But I no longer have the overwhelming urge to destroy or to lash out at others. I think it was the opium in the laudanum,’ she finished, thinking back to Marcus’s concern over her taking the medicine. ‘And I no longer rely on it as much as I once did.’

‘Yes, that might explain the improvement. And it has certainly been a pleasant surprise to see you so calm and approachable today.’ He seemed satisfied and slid everything back into his case. ‘I think I am done here, although I must speak to the staff before I go, as is detailed in the terms of the inheritance agreement. It does rather appear though, according to these reports, that you have fewer staff with every passing year.’ He raised one eyebrow.

‘Only Mr and Mrs Webber remain now,’ Marcus confirmed, ‘but then our wants and needs are simple, and my finances have been somewhat strained…’

‘Indeed,’ Mr Meyer agreed, as Luna contemplated the startling news that this huge house was run by only two people. No wonder she hadn’t seen any other servants – there weren’t any.

‘They have been with me for several years now, and will give a good account of Luna’s recovery, I am sure. My wife’s improvement of late owes a great deal to my housekeeper’s kind ministrations.’

Mr Meyer nodded, gathered up his briefcase, and Marcus gave him directions to the kitchens.

‘Did I speak out of turn?’ Luna asked, as soon as they were alone. ‘When I thanked you for your kindness?’

‘Not at all, although it has been a long time since anyone has called me darling. Perhaps the solicitor was surprised that we seemed so close after reading the report from the last Crooker and Fairbrother visit. I know I was.’

‘Sorry. I was overly familiar. I should have been more guarded.’

The pain from her ankle was starting to cause quite severe discomfort as the laudanum was wearing off, and she felt agitated. Why had she started this stupid game? She was fumbling around in the dark trying to make sense of this confusing and slightly scary situation that she’d landed in, but she felt like a meteor falling from the skies onto a planet where it did not belong.

‘Don’t apologise. You did splendidly, and I’m more than happy for you to continue with the endearments.’ He looked her squarely in the eye. ‘I liked it.’

Her heart rate accelerated at his words. The nightmare of only a few short days ago had almost drowned her in a torrent of devastating emotions, but her current situation was proving equally frightening. Part of that fear was the peculiar things this man was doing to her insides. There was a teetering anxiety, not that he would harm her, but that he would continue to be kind and she would not want to leave, because when your whole world had been destroyed, you clung to any small fragment of solid ground.

Marcus walked over to the window and looked out across the meadow that he had carried her through only the day before. A few minutes of silence passed between them but, considering the man was a relative stranger, she didn’t feel uncomfortable. They were lost in their own troubles, but lost together.

He finally spoke. ‘The hedgerows and riverbanks are bursting with colour this time of year, but our garden is sadly lacking. I was digging new beds down by the gate yesterday when you happened upon me, because the meadow is the only place on the Ravenswood lands that the flora seems to flourish now. The columbine, cow parsley and lady’s smock rise up with the long grasses every year regardless of neglect, but I long to return the gardens to the glory days of my father. I hope to acquire some cowslips and primroses this autumn so that, next spring, Ravenswood will be dappled with the bold yellow of sunshine.’

Luna had followed the patches of gold that he spoke of as she’d run along the shimmering silver ribbon of the river Bran from Lowbridge. The colours had cheered her desperate spirits as she scampered through the wet landscape as though her feet were on fire, afraid to stop. She’d felt far safer in amongst the violets and periwinkles two nights ago, resting in the dense undergrowth, than she’d ever felt in the streets of Branchester at night as a child, even with her father beside her.

‘A woman I love very much gave me an appreciation of gardening many years ago,’ he continued, ‘and particularly the cultivation of flowers. She taught me their names and instructed me in their care.’ He immediately pulled his lips taut, regretting his openness and embarrassed by his admission. ‘You must think it’s a silly interest for a man.’

‘Not at all,’ she said, noticing he’d said love , in the present tense, meaning Luna was still alive somewhere. She had visions of the pair of them as newlyweds tending to the gardens, before the poor woman became addicted to the opiates and her behaviour spiralled out of control.

Mr Webber entered, dipping his head in deference to his master, but scowling at Luna. He was carrying a large basket of logs and began to stack them on the hearth. The presence of servants, Luna knew well, did not and should not interrupt the activities of those they served, but they were both conscious that they were no longer alone.

‘I heard my first cuckoo down by the river this morning,’ Marcus said, walking over to join her. ‘It’s a good luck omen, as you know, and my sombre spirits of late are lifting. Along with my plans to redecorate, I might fell some of the trees at the back of the house to give the north-facing rooms more light. So much has been neglected hereabouts, and for so many years.’ He swung to face her. ‘Do you have a favourite flower?’

‘I know very little about the tending of a garden because I grew up in the city.’ Worried then that she was slipping from her role, especially as the manservant was present, she hesitated. Giving him information about her past was not wise. ‘Besides, you know I have not been well enough to care about such things and am content to leave such matters entirely to you.’ After all, this was not her house or her business.

Marcus nodded. The pantomime, it seemed, was in full swing.

‘Well, I’ve always had a soft spot for roses, so I’ve instructed Mr Webber to purchase some bushes from Manbury this afternoon. I should like to get them planted by the gate before I leave, in the hope they’ll be in bloom when I return. Before we know it, summer will be here, but I shall be sad to miss the interweaving of these two life-giving seasons,’ he continued. ‘I have never thought of January as the start of the New Year. For me, it has always been the spring when everything begins to grow anew. Now, more than ever, April shall be my beginning.’

She wondered how long he imagined she would stay for. It was only her intention to heal from the ankle injury and then she would be on her way. The house was unsettling. Mrs Webber’s shocking revelation that Marcus’s wife was a witch, coupled with her own firm belief that her old life would catch up with her eventually, meant this couldn’t be a permanent solution to her troubles. He seemed nice enough and she didn’t want him tarred with her very dirty brush. Besides, she could only be Luna Greybourne until the real Luna reappeared to depose her, or someone crept from the woodwork of her past to reveal her true identity. It was a risky game, one to be played for a short while only, because they would surely be exposed soon by a relative, a neighbour, or even a visiting tradesman.

As if he could read her thoughts, the conversation circled back to his wife.

‘It’s been hard caring for Luna… for you.’ He hastily corrected himself. ‘Many things have suffered as a result – not least the deterioration of the house. It’s why we need your inheritance payment so badly. I’m sorry to have put you through that again, but I’m hoping with your greatly improved health, you will now refrain from destroying any repairs that I undertake and sabotaging my planting. It has been quite fruitless in the past to attempt any restoration, when you’ve suffered from such wild and unpredictable paroxysms.’

She nodded. He was confirming Mrs Webber’s assertions that Luna had been responsible for the destruction she could see thereabouts and that Marcus had been fighting a losing battle in his attempts to keep the house in a habitable state. Such a pity, as she could imagine Ravenswood being an impressive residence in its day. The Greybournes had clearly been a family of note, and these spacious rooms and wide hallways should be bustling with life and busy servants. Instead, it was an empty shell, with the echoes of unhappiness and despair bouncing off the defaced walls.

‘I should check on Mr Meyer. He must have all the information he needs by now,’ Marcus said, and then turned his attention to the manservant. ‘Has he interviewed you, Webber?’

‘Yes, sir, and I spoke as I was told.’

Mr Greybourne looked at the wooden clock on the mantel and Luna belatedly realised the glass was missing. Something else his temperamental wife had damaged? But she felt emboldened by their friendly conversation earlier and ventured to try her hand at being mistress of the house. What might a wife do on a sunny April afternoon with her husband ?

‘Please also ask Mrs Webber if she might bring us both afternoon tea. I should like very much for you to sit with me a while. We can look out over the front meadow and discuss your plans for the gardens further.’

Marcus looked as though she’d requested he strip naked and dance a jig, but he rallied quickly.

‘That would be… really quite lovely,’ he said.