Chapter 25
25
The house was silent, save the ticking of the clocks and scampering wind through the oppressive trees outside her window. Luna hastily changed into the dress she had arrived wearing back in April; she’d kept it, folded up at the bottom of the wardrobe, just in case. Then she bundled up a few essentials, including the shillings that she had arrived with, fetching them from their hiding place behind the chest of drawers. After opening the bedroom door as quietly as she could, in her stockinged feet she crept down the stairs and into the kitchens. There, she took a hunk of bread and a small piece of cheese, wrapping them in muslin to see her through the first day, before lacing up her boots. The journey to London would not be easy.
Slipping silently from the front door, she noticed that the pathway to the river needed scything again. The grass was long, scattered with the droopy heads of lilac foxgloves, the yellows of buttercups and the blood reds of delicate poppies. The rain of earlier had all but dried in the heat, but the glorious smell of damp earth and fragrant blooms circled around her. New beginnings, she decided. She’d done it once; she could do it again .
Shifting clouds allowed fleeting bursts of moonlight to light her way. The pale petals of the white roses guided her to the gate, and she heard the gentle gurgle of the fast-flowing river ahead. She would call on Mr Findlay first; he would offer her shelter until the ferryman started in the morning. All she knew was that she had to get away from Ravenswood and all those within it, whether they were from this world or the next.
Her hand reached for the gate latch just as Bran appeared, swooping past her, and making an almighty row. She thought for a moment he was there to attack her and instinctively protected her face by flinging her arms across her eyes. It took her a while to realise he was there to make as much noise as possible and impede her escape.
‘Shhh,’ she begged. ‘You’ll wake the household!’ Although she now rather suspected that was his intention. He settled on the gatepost as she approached, flapping his wings and hopping from foot to foot. She tried again for the latch, but with deliberate and aggressive movements, he pecked violently at her fingers. His beak was strong and sharp.
‘Bran!’ she cried out. ‘That hurt. Let me past.’
‘Curse you,’ he called. ‘Curse you!’
The bird didn’t know what he was saying, she convinced herself, although she wondered if something in the sharp tone of the noise he was mimicking matched his obvious anger.
They stared hard at each other, neither breaking their gaze. Bran’s pale grey eyelids occasionally blinked at her, as she flared her nostrils in frustration. The impasse was broken by the heavy pounding of feet from behind, and she didn’t need to turn to see who was running through the meadow.
‘Where the hell do you think you are going at this ungodly hour?’ Marcus’s voice was harsh and accusatory. She turned to see his silhouette against the backdrop of the whitewashed house. A cloud drifted past the moon, allowing her to also make out his desperate expression.
It was time to face the reality of their situation.
‘I’m leaving. You know this was only ever temporary. Me evading the law, and you accessing much-needed funds. The rumours of witchcraft and the attack?—’
‘No, I can’t allow you to leave.’ Was he threatening her? Her panic eased as his tone softened. ‘I’m sorry the villagers treated you so badly. I will protect you better in future. I was foolish to think it would be easy to regain their trust. But you’re my wife. Please don’t let them drive you away.’ Marcus, it seemed, was increasingly embracing the illusion that they were a married couple.
‘There are ghosts at this house, Marcus – I’ve seen them. The ghosts of those who want me gone.’ How could she stay when Luna was determined to push her out?
His face hardened. ‘I had hoped you were more sensible than to get sucked into silly talk of spirits and magic. It’s bad enough that Mrs Webber wards off imagined evil by carrying rowan crosses, hanging scented pomanders and scribbling powerless symbols on scraps of paper, without you joining in. I can’t have Hattie and Oscar sucked into this nonsense.’
She laughed then. ‘I don’t think she’s guarding against witchcraft; I think she’s practising it. The woman was chanting an incantation to remove me. “I want her out.” I heard her say it.’
In response, Marcus growled. Something she’d not heard him do before. Even in the poor light, she could see his body stiffen and his hands clench.
‘That damn woman. If finding another housekeeper was easy, I would sack her. If she’s been meddling in the dark arts again, I’ll be furious. All week she’s been saying she’s seen a ghost and if I find out she’s been employing dubious practices to exorcise her, there will be hell to pay. ’
Her . Had Mrs Webber seen Luna too? Was the truth that the housekeeper wanted the ghost gone? Had she misunderstood her words? Bran’s silent support would certainly make more sense in this scenario. And, to be fair, her knowledge of witchcraft was limited. A chalk circle and a handful of mystical symbols could either be summoning evil or guarding against it, and she wouldn’t know the difference.
But regardless of what Marcus believed, Luna, or rather her spirit, had categorically been in that bedroom with her; she would swear this on her own life. And that meant his wife was dead.
She stared at him, wanting to question him about the woman in whose bed she slept every night, but she had struck a deal with him back in April; he would not ask about her past if she did not pry into his.
Her thoughts returned to the unpleasant discoveries of that afternoon.
‘I went into the woods for the first time today. I have been so afraid to enter them, but I overcame my fear only to find upsetting things.’
‘What things?’ He now sounded exasperated. Here he was, begging her to stay, and she kept throwing reasons to leave at him.
‘The stone well. It had poppets scattered around it, evidence of witchcraft. And then I got lost and… I stumbled across the graves.’
Marcus ran his hand through his hair in desperation. ‘I tried to hide them off the beaten path; bury them where no one would find them. They are for me to visit, and me alone. I was heartbroken every single time. Taking a life is wrong under any circumstances, but these deaths were particularly brutal. You have no idea what I’ve been through. Every man on this earth is entitled to navigate his own way through the hardships he suffers. This is how I have managed, and my way of coping is not your concern.’
She was incredulous. What was he saying? That burying people he’d done away with, and hiding them from prying eyes, was part of his healing process, and perfectly acceptable because he’d had an awful life?
She took a step towards Bran, who was calmer now that Marcus had arrived. Would he protect her if she were to be victim number four?
‘Why have you buried them in the middle of the woods? What makes you think you can get away with murder just because your life has been difficult? And am I to be next?’ she wailed, all reason having fled her body with his calm explanation as to the hidden location.
‘Next?’ He looked confused. ‘Captain, Gulliver and Lister. My dogs. Good God, Luna, who did you think was buried there?’
Dogs? She thought back to the badly scratched doorways and Mrs Webber mentioning dogs when she’d heard noises in the attics. A wave of comprehension swept over her, as he continued.
‘I wish I could say they died of old age but anything I got close to… anything I loved ?—’
‘Got taken from you,’ she finished, suddenly realising Luna had somehow been responsible for their deaths.
‘And now you’re leaving me?’ He looked at her bundle and the man who had undergone a whole gamut of emotions in the last few minutes – anger, frustration and disbelief – now just looked unbearably sad.
‘This is hopeless,’ she said, but he risked taking a step closer, looking down into her equally unhappy face. ‘I’ve served my purpose, and in return you kindly allowed me respite. What further need can you have for me? Unless you are still holding on to me for the money? I’m not sure I can play mistress of the house year after year just for you to claim the inheritance payments.’
He’d allayed some of her fears but who were they fooling ?
‘To hell with the money. I want my wife beside me at Ravenswood – to see her beautiful face each morning, to walk along the river with her by my side, and to dine with her as the sun goes down. Have you any idea how lonely my life has been? How desperate? This is our second chance. We can do this, Luna. We can be happy.’
A bank of shifting cloud rolled in front of the moon and they briefly lost the scant light that they’d had for those first few moments. She could now hardly make out Marcus’s face at all.
‘Kiss me!’ squawked Bran, who had been silently observing their heated exchange and decided to remind them both that he was still present. Luna’s heart raced. In the darkness, did Marcus think she had uttered that request?
His shadow loomed closer and she felt his touch with a jolt, as his fingers brushed her neck. The warmth of him sent shivers up her spine and down her arms. Every hair on her body stood on end as he slid his large hand behind her shoulder and gently persuaded her closer, before dropping the most delicate of kisses on the scar from the witch scratching. The shock of this intimate gesture made her drop her bundle to the floor.
There was a pause, a seemingly inordinate amount of time when nothing happened, and then he brushed the jagged cut with his lips again and she thought she might die, there and then before the meadow path that led north back to Ravenswood, or south to the river and her freedom.
‘Don’t go,’ he mumbled into her neck, his head bowed down, and his free arm sweeping around her back, locking her to him and preventing her stepping away. ‘The ghosts are in your imagination. I promise I will protect you. Please don’t leave me.’
She stood frozen, unable to rationalise a single thought careering through her head as every nerve ending focused on his touch and his heat. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her wobbly legs, but the scent of the large man before her only made her knees weaker.
‘Don’t go! Don’t go!’ Bran echoed, still behind the pair of them on the gate and bursting into life, flapping his wings and barring her exit.
But this wasn’t just about Marcus and the troubles at Ravenswood. There had always been two strands to their story. He might believe he could resolve his past, but what about hers?
‘I’m not a good person,’ she said, dipping her head and trying to wriggle free from the man nestled against her collarbone. She knew this truth above all else. Would he want her to stay if he discovered the terrible thing she’d done? It was unlikely.
Her heart was torn. Her feelings for this sad and lonely man had been growing slowly and silently since his return from the city, and the strength of the pull between them was undeniable. Two broken people who together could be whole. And yet she had felt like this once before. She’d believed herself in love with Daniel, but perhaps he had merely offered an escape from her unsatisfactory life. How could she fall in love again so easily?
But fallen she had. By pretending that walking away from Ravenswood was in everyone’s best interests, she was only deceiving herself. Her arms reached up to weave into Marcus’s thick brown hair and she allowed him to share that truth with her.
Spurred on by her reaction, he traced his lips up to her ear and across her soft cheek until he found her mouth. Eager and unashamed of their feelings, there was nothing to stop them now, not even the knowledge that Bran’s beady and rapidly blinking eyes were taking everything in.
Her chest heaved and her stomach rolled as their mouths engaged. She had never been kissed like this by anyone before, not even Daniel. She knew now that what she’d felt for the opinionated factory worker from Lowbridge hadn’t been love, after all, because she’d never felt this all-consuming passion. She simply had to possess this man before her. Their mouths eventually parted but their cheeks came to rest together, as their racing breaths began to slow down.
Without separating from him, her head dipped a second time.
‘I’m damaged,’ she said.
‘And you think I’m not?’
‘They are convinced I’m a witch.’
‘Which means they do not doubt that you are my wife, and surely that fact alone offers you sanctuary? Anyone who claims otherwise will not be believed.’
Maybe it was better to be spat at as a witch than hanged as a murderer. She tipped her head back up to his. The clouds slid away from the moon, creating a window of light, illuminating his strong features.
‘Whatever we face in the future, you must know that I am a man who stands by the commitments I make. When I promised in sickness and in health, I honoured that. When I promised not to enquire about your past, I honoured that, too. Know that I will never abandon you – not for one moment. I may have caused you to fall by the river, but I picked you up. I will always pick you up. You must trust me.’
She had so often been denied the things she had wanted in life. Could she possibly be allowed this one, wonderful thing?
He took a step back and put out his hand.
‘Come home, Luna,’ he begged, and she could see the desperation on his face. ‘Where you belong.’
She reached out, and his large hand curled around her slender fingers, as she allowed him to pull her gently back to Ravenswood.