Chapter 35
35
It didn’t matter that she had not stood before a vicar in a fine dress, clutching a small posy of flowers, and signed the parish register. As far as Luna was concerned, she was a married woman, with all the carnal knowledge and domestic responsibilities that came with the title. Her truth was that the giant but gentle man sharing her bed was her husband. This she would maintain until her dying breath, even if they were physically torn apart. Their union was complete, and she hadn’t even needed Mr Findlay’s well-meaning potion to persuade him to come to her.
Their lovemaking had lasted quite some time, a powerful coupling that hadn’t required words. They’d communicated with the intensity of a look or the persuasiveness of a touch, both recognising that this coming-together had been inevitable.
Not long afterwards, there had been the most almighty crack in the room and Marcus had scrambled out of bed to light the lamp on the mantel. The dressing mirror had split clean across the middle. It was, he said, just one of those things. A weakness in the glass that had finally given way. He looked at her with an expression that defied her to offer another, less palatable, other- worldly explanation. But she knew who was responsible and why.
She had invited him to claim her body a second time, almost in defiance of her ghostly foe. As the flame of the dying chamberstick candle flickered out, they had fallen together, exhausted and complete. When her heavy eyelids finally closed, she knew if she were to be hanged tomorrow, she would be content to know she had been loved and had loved in return. She would rather die young than live a long life without experiencing the happiness of that night.
Bran tapped on the windowpane in the early hours and Luna woke in the half-light to find Marcus’s heavy limbs draped across her naked body, his head on the pillows facing hers, and his brow unfurrowed and smooth. The smell of him, the smell of them , was overpowering and addictive.
She slid from his proprietorial arm, grabbed a robe from the back of the door, and walked to the window. To her horror, she saw four words written in the condensation that had formed on the inside of the glass, the moonlight from outside allowing her to read them.
The time has come…
Luna felt each painful thud of her panicked heart pound in her chest. This had been done in the last few moments, as water was running from the bottom of the letters towards the sill. Marcus had not moved from her side and no one had entered the room. The spirit of his dead wife was warning her that she was imminently to make good on the threat scratched into the wardrobe. She wiped the warning away with the flat of her hand, wondering if their actions of the night before had been the tipping point, or if the witch was waiting for All Hallows’ Eve to enact her revenge. Regardless, Luna knew that her reckoning was rapidly approaching.
Her shaking hands fumbled with the sash as she let the impatient raven in. Amongst his many quirks, he was a jealous bird and, had he not been shut out of the room that night, she might even have suspected him of breaking the glass. He gave a deep, throaty kraa-kraa and Marcus stirred.
‘Come back to bed, Luna. I need more sleep, especially if I’m to face my suspicious great-aunt at breakfast.’ He shuffled onto his elbows, sensing movement from where the raven was now perching on a chairback. ‘Is there someone else in the room?’
‘Bran often visits me at night,’ she explained. ‘He is my not-so-silent guardian and likes to check that I am safe.’ She no longer doubted the bird’s loyalty.
‘Ah, so I have competition.’ Marcus smiled and tapped the counterpane. ‘Should I train Bran to attack any man who so much as looks at my beautiful wife? I will not share her.’
She climbed back into the bed and nestled into his wide arms, looking up at him, hoping that he would assume her quivering body was due to the temperature. ‘You have nothing to fear. There is no one else,’ she said, hoping her tone conveyed her sincerity.
He must know, however, that he had not been her first. There was no blood and she understood that men instinctively knew if you had been with another. She had tried to tell him the previous night but he had silenced her. He simply would not allow anything outside their fairy tale to exist, but it was important to her that he understood that her night with Billy had not been an act of love, but of desperation.
‘Once, before I met you, when my life was at its blackest, I did a wretched thing in order to survive. I will never forgive myself but I cannot undo it.’ It was the only explanation she could offer, allowing him an opportunity to condemn, or even question her further, but he did neither.
‘I am not here to judge you because I have been in a black place, too. A place with no light and so very little hope, but we have left those dark corners now so let’s not speak of them and instead walk towards the sunshine.’
He gave her a soft smile but she thought she could read a desolate sadness in his eyes and wondered what might be curled up in the dark corner he had walked away from. She desperately hoped it wasn’t the body of his dead wife.
It was obvious, to her at least, how relaxed Marcus was at the breakfast table, compared to his anxious demeanour of the previous day. She hoped it wasn’t as simple as the flooding of his sexual desert, and more that the certainty of their commitment to each other had given him peace.
Great-Aunt Elspeth was late to rise but when she entered the drawing room, the pair of them lay intertwined on the long upholstered sofa, Marcus half asleep after his repeated physical exertions of the previous night, and Luna resting across his large thigh with a small volume of Dickens in her hand. She still revelled in the luxury of reading for pleasure during the day. Marcus was looking to build the library up again and had recently purchased some of his favourite novels and reference works from the auction house in Manbury, where big houses sometimes sold off their contents to pay estate debts.
It took Luna a while to realise they were being observed from the doorway, and she sat upright when she spotted the old lady, jolting Marcus awake as she did.
‘Aunt, do join us,’ he said. ‘Did you have a pleasant night? ’
He got to his feet and helped her to settle in a high-backed chair near the crackling fire.
‘Clearly not as good as some.’ Her shrewd eyes looked between the pair of them and Luna felt a creeping heat rise from her toes. Their night-time activities had been overheard.
‘I’ll ring for some refreshments,’ Marcus said. The bells had finally been repaired – a task that had taken Mr Webber and young Oscar two days. ‘You have missed breakfast but it is the perfect time for tea and cake.’
‘Hattie made a fruit loaf,’ Luna added. ‘In fact, I think we should consider training her up as a cook and finding another housemaid. She is quiet but extremely bright.’
That she should be in the position of choosing staff when she had once been staff herself had taken her a long time to get used to. It might make her a more understanding mistress; she hoped so. Hattie was becoming increasingly efficient, as was Oscar, and this had taken a huge burden from Marcus’s broad shoulders.
Great-Aunt Elspeth tutted. ‘Bright, maybe, but clumsy. And she’s only a girl. She can hardly be thirteen and has no kitchen experience.’
Perhaps it was the thought that she had nothing left to lose now that made her defend herself. Perhaps she just felt safe at that moment, knowing Marcus loved her. Or perhaps she was finally accepting that she was mistress of this house and she only had to answer to her husband. Whatever it was, Luna felt emboldened enough to take the old lady on.
‘I choose not to judge her on age, but on her actions. She is punctual, efficient and knows her way around the range. Cooking is not a strength of Mrs Webber’s, but if I have someone who is capable of doing that job in my household, then I would be a fool not to employ her as such, just because she is deemed too young. Women, in particular, are given so few opportunities in life and goodness knows the Gowers could do with the extra money.’
The old lady narrowed her eyes and Luna knew she had piqued her interest with her talk of women’s subordination.
‘A consideration for another day,’ Marcus said, trying to head off a confrontation. ‘In the meantime, cake.’
He rang the bell and it wasn’t many minutes later that they were treated to tea and fruit loaf, but the conversation was stilted and the atmosphere frosty.
The silence was broken by a sharp tap at the windowpane that made Great-Aunt Elspeth jump. Luna’s heart sank as Bran’s black outline appeared on the sill.
‘What the devil?’ the old lady muttered.
Luna stood up and opened the window, knowing she would get no peace if she ignored him, and he hopped into the room as the old woman’s mouth dropped open in horror.
‘Get that abhorrent creature out, Marcus. Having them in your woods is one thing, but they are harbingers of death and allowing them inside is madness.’ She was visibly shaken and looked to her nephew for support.
‘Bran is Luna’s raven and he does no harm.’ His tone was firm.
The bird flew to the jardinière stand and Luna petted him before taking her seat. She was thrilled her husband had stood up for her and hoped Bran would behave. That he had not attacked the elderly stranger was a good sign; he was an excellent judge of character.
‘You really aren’t your usual self today, Aunt,’ Marcus commented. ‘But I suspect I know just the thing to bring you cheer. Please try to be civil to each other whilst I am absent. I won’t be gone long.’
He looked at the pair in turn before departing, and the two women chose to quietly sip their tea, rather than engage in conversation, both hoping he would be true to his word.
‘Oh, madam, come quickly! Mr Greybourne has had a terrible accident.’
It was barely ten minutes later when Hattie appeared at the drawing room door, breathless and tearful, frantically gesturing for her mistress to follow her.
Luna had moved to a side table to deal with some correspondence at a small writing slope, and Great-Aunt Elspeth had quickly fallen asleep in her chair. The old woman’s garland had slipped across her eyes, making her look like a drunken wood nymph.
Luna threw a look at their house guest, who was still dead to the world, immediately abandoned her letter and ran through the kitchens and out to the side of the house.
Marcus was lying on the ground with his eyes closed and at first she thought he was dead. Blood, so much blood, pouring from a deep gash on his forehead. She rushed over to him, trying to remain calm but tears streamed down her face. She could not lose him like this. Was God punishing them for their lies? Or had the words on the glass been for him? He had been in the room with her last night, after all.
‘What happened?’ she cried, glancing up at Oscar, who was standing over his master, his face pale and his hands restless.
‘He was picking the last of the marigolds and one of the roof tiles flew at his head. Knocked him clean off his feet. I couldn’t get no answer from him, nor could Mr Webber when he got off the ladder. So Hattie came for you.’
‘Mr Webber was up the ladder?’ She looked over to the manservant, slinking around behind the cold frames, laying the ladder down and avoiding her eye. She’d found a pulse on Marcus now and was calmer. Her husband was not dead.
‘Replacing the tiles, like I was told,’ Webber grunted. ‘I was throwing them broken ones down to the lad and this one just leapt from my hand… Reckon it was caught by a gust of wind, coz I weren’t chucking it this way. I swear.’
Luna turned to Oscar to corroborate Webber’s story but he just shrugged.
‘Heavy slate tiles don’t get whisked up by a gust of wind,’ she said. The list of reasons she had to dislike this man was growing longer.
‘I never threw it at him, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
This was not the time for an argument and she instead focused on Marcus’s welfare.
‘Oscar, go to the village and fetch Doctor Gardener. Hattie, find Mrs Webber and ask what we should do in the meantime. It will take Oscar easily half an hour with no horse.’
The housekeeper, who had been upstairs dealing with the bedlinen, appeared in the gardens within moments. She’d treated the real Luna’s injuries for several years, albeit under Mr Findlay’s guidance, so the woman had a good knowledge of basic medical care.
‘Send the girl for the cunning man,’ Mrs Webber said, hurrying towards them all. ‘He has a poultice for bleeding and a medicine for the head. I’m afraid I used the last bottle up and haven’t got round to getting no more.’ She looked to her husband who narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
‘Oscar has set off for the doctor,’ Luna explained. ‘You know Mr Greybourne won’t want us dealing with that man.’
‘But he’s unconscious and don’t know what’s happening. We needn’t tell the master where the medicine came from. I’ve been using him for years to stock our medicine chest and guide me regarding the care of those at Ravenswood. The master just never knew.’
The young girl waited for her mistress’s resigned nod of approval and then scampered to the front of the house, whilst Mrs Webber went to the kitchens and got a wet piece of flannel to press on the wound. They made Marcus as comfortable as they could without moving him, both women knowing full well that head injuries were potentially very serious. Hattie returned within a quarter of an hour with a small bottle of yellow liquid and a poultice of yarrow and comfrey root.
‘The cunning man said to get four drops of this into him immediately, and to make him rest for the remainder of the day. Watch that he’s not sick and don’t let him eat anything for a few hours.’
Almost as soon as Luna had dribbled the liquid into her husband’s parted lips, he opened his eyes and, after a few minutes, was gently helped to a sitting position. He insisted he was well enough to get to his feet but Mr Webber took his arm and guided him inside, where they waited for Doctor Gardener. Everyone was under strict instructions to say nothing of Findlay’s help. Luna told Marcus that Mrs Webber had sorted the poultice, which, in a way, she had.
Great-Aunt Elspeth had been woken by the commotion and was quite alarmed to hear of her great-nephew’s accident but there was nothing useful she could do. The doctor duly arrived and thought there would be no permanent damage. Like Findlay, he prescribed bed rest and, with Mr Webber’s help, Marcus was taken upstairs. Her husband, he reiterated, had had a lucky escape.
‘A young boy died in Manbury this summer, after being hit by a cricket bat,’ he said. ‘Head injuries are tricky, so send for me if Mr Greybourne starts vomiting or has convulsions.’
Luna paid him in the entrance hall, expressing her thanks, but not wanting to engage in conversation, knowing how he felt about their deception. The doctor, however, was very complimentary about the house, remarking that the last time he had been to Ravenswood – and this was several years ago – it had been in quite a sorry state.
‘We’re trying to rebuild our shattered lives,’ she said, showing him the door. ‘And want nothing more than to be left in peace to do just that.’
He paused at her words and then nodded. ‘Take good care of him,’ he said, as he doffed his hat, and made his way to the waiting gig.
‘Please, madam, may I speak to you?’
Hattie intercepted her mistress in the hallway as she returned to apprise Great-Aunt Elspeth of Marcus’s condition.
‘Of course.’
‘This morning, when I asked Mr Findlay to come back to Ravenswood, not knowing that the master had forbidden it, he said that his life would be in danger should he step on Greybourne lands.’ The young girl’s eyes betrayed her fear. ‘Is there really someone at the house who would see him dead?’
‘I’m afraid that the work he does to keep us all safe from the spirit world and those who practise dark magic, means that there might be bad people in this world who would wish him ill. But I can assure you that I would never cause him harm. On the contrary, I think the time is coming when I will be very glad of his assistance.’
She could not answer Hattie’s question directly because she could not promise there were no witches at Ravenswood. Mr Findlay had warned her that evil could dress itself up as a friend and this worried her more than she cared to admit .
‘He insisted I told everyone at Ravenswood to stay at home on All Hallows’ Eve,’ Hattie said. ‘His cards have warned him of evil summonings and the shedding of blood. He’s genuinely worried for the safety of everyone here.’
Luna nodded, grateful that he had got word to her. She knew All Hallows’ Eve was a dangerous time. The thin veil between this world and the spiritual world might allow the real Luna to do more than write threats in the dust or on the window, to appear in a reflection or to crack a mirror.
‘I’ll admit that I was very scared of you when I started here,’ the maid said. ‘But you don’t seem anything like the tales I’ve heard, and the cunning man reassured me. He said not to listen to the village gossip, because it wasn’t you I needed to fear. But the stories of the well and the things that go on in them woods at night… I can’t lie, madam, it makes me very uneasy.’
Luna appreciated her honesty and didn’t want to lose her, especially as she was proving such a good little worker.
‘Mr Findlay is quite right, Hattie. I can promise you that I am not involved in such practices. My husband will tell you it is all nonsense, but I understand that the woods have a fearsome reputation. They are used by the villagers as a cut-through and we can’t always control who enters them. If you and your brother were given All Hallows’ Eve and All Saints’ off, allowing you both to remain safely in Little Doubton with your family, would you please try to overcome your fear?’
The young girl nodded and slipped a small rowan cross from her pocket.
‘I’ll try. Mr Findlay gave me this. He said it will keep me safe.’
Luna smiled at her conviction, and regretted destroying her own charm. Even though the Gowers didn’t sleep at the house, she didn’t want them in danger. Not every threat was mortal. Even though she wasn’t the Ravenswood Witch, that didn’t mean the woman who claimed to be such wasn’t still a risk to the household.
Luna returned to the drawing room to sit with Great-Aunt Elspeth and gather her thoughts. Her bottom had barely touched the seat before the old woman spoke. There was no preamble to her words, and no kindness in her eyes.
‘The housekeeper assures me that Marcus will be fine but I am glad we find ourselves alone again, as there are things I wish to say and I don’t want my great-nephew party to the conversation. I love him very much – he is one of the few people I truly care for in this world – but I do not, and never did, care for you. Whilst I appreciate it has been many years since I saw you last, the change in you has been bothering me ever since I arrived.’
Luna swallowed. She had a feeling she knew where this was heading.
‘Your care for him over this accident has been somewhat a surprise to say the least because, even at the wedding, I found you dismissive and cold towards him. The foolish boy was barely twenty and found himself swept up by the attentions of an attractive young woman. Like every red-blooded male, he was not able to think clearly because of it, marrying you with the most undue haste. You never looked at him with anything but indifference and yet, suddenly, I find the pair of you skipping around like newlyweds. Why could that possibly be, I wonder?’
She tipped her head to one side, waiting for an explanation but Luna gave nothing away.
‘Do you not think it possible for people to fall in love years after being together? I regret my previous behaviour, but Marcus has explained how the opioids affected my reasoning. Now, with the support of my patient husband, I am happily free of such an addiction and we have grown closer because of it. There is no mystery.’
Great-Aunt Elspeth tutted and narrowed her eyes. ‘The last time I was here you drank laudanum like tea and that was years ago. No one recovers from such a dependence. I’m afraid I do not believe you are who you claim to be.’
The pair locked eyes but Luna would not allow herself to be intimidated. She had something worth fighting for: Marcus.
‘Do you remember the colour of the gown I wore to your wedding?’ the old lady persisted.
‘Of course not. It was the most monumental day of my life. I had far too many other things to concern myself with.’
‘And the name of Marcus’s dog as a boy? The one his father bought in Manbury when he was six years old?’
‘Again, please forgive me if my memory is inadequate. The drugs often left me in a fuddled state. There is much I struggle to remember, but I do know that his last three dogs were Captain, Gulliver and Lister, and he loved them all dearly. Tell me, Great-Aunt,’ she said, leaning forward in challenge as something occurred to her. ‘How did your beloved nephew nearly come to die when he was just six years old? What was he up to, that no one knew about that could have killed him?’
Great-Aunt Elspeth looked momentarily thrown, caught out by Luna turning the tables on her, but was unable to answer. After a pause that confirmed she did not know of the near-accident, the old lady shrugged.
‘You say you love him but know nothing of his dangerous escapades in the hayloft? Forgive me, but as I generally find one grey-haired elderly lady looks much like another and, like you say, it has been many years since we last met. How can I be sure that you are who you say you are?’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Elspeth scoffed. ‘Whether you remember me or not, Marcus knows I am his great-aunt and his word should be sufficient. ’
‘And Marcus has told you that I am Luna, his wife.’ She let the implication hang in the air between them.
‘Enough with this nonsense. I’m old but I’m no fool. If you are Luna Greybourne, then I am a creature from the planet Mars.’ She thumped her bony hands down on the arms of her chair. ‘My vision may not be as sharp as it once was, but there is nothing wrong with my mind. This happy domestic scene has been bothering me ever since I arrived, something nudging at the back of my atrophied mind, and now I remember: her pale eyes – part of the reason my poor nephew was so bewitched in the first place. You are not who you claim to be, young lady, and are executing an unkind deception – one I’m furious that my great-nephew would even attempt. Because, whoever else you might have hoodwinked, you have failed to convince me.’
Luna swallowed. She had put up a good fight but those haunting pale eyes of the Ravenswood Witch, eyes she’d seen herself reflected in the windowpanes of her room, would be her downfall. Yet, still she clung to the fiction she so desperately wished was fact.
‘I am Luna Greybourne and I love your great-nephew with every fibre of my being. You can proclaim it otherwise, but I would stand in a court of law, lay my hand upon the Bible, and swear it to be the truth.’ Whether she could truly commit such a sin was debateable but for the purposes of this argument, she would state it as fact.
Elspeth shook her head from side to side, world-weary and disappointed. ‘And yet all I am asking of you, young lady, is your honesty. Who are you ?’
But Luna had sworn an oath to herself and was not prepared to break it. To admit her real identity to anyone would be tugging at the first loose thread of their life together and would inevitably lead to the unravelling of the rest. She had not spoken her real name aloud for half a year, not even to Marcus whom she loved completely, and she had no intention of doing so to someone who disliked her. ‘Luna Greybourne,’ she replied, defiantly.
‘Then it is time to get the law involved. Tomorrow, I shall see about contacting the local constabulary. I will not have my nephew hoodwinked a second time.’ There was a look of grim determination across her wrinkled face, and both women stared at each other like warriors about to do battle. ‘Now, if you would be so kind as to ring for the girl, I would like to sit somewhere else – the library, perhaps. The unbearable stench of deception in here has made me feel quite unwell.’
Luna had become a much stronger person since arriving at the house back in April and would not be bullied by Great-Aunt Elspeth. Nor would she sit by and let bad people hurt those she cared for. She’d been walked over all her life, but Marcus had put her in a position of trust and responsibility. He believed in her. It was about time she believed in herself.
Elspeth had retired early for the night and Luna chose to do the same. She wanted to be with her husband, even though she would have to be mindful of his current fragile state.
‘Please get rid of Mr Webber,’ she begged. ‘He tried to kill you.’
Marcus was propped up in bed, three cushions behind him and a cross expression on his face, not because his wife was requesting the immediate dismissal of the manservant, but more likely because he felt like a fraud and resented being told to rest.
‘No, he didn’t. Even Webber isn’t that stupid,’ he replied. ‘He’s served time for killing one man, he’s hardly going to attempt to murder another. I don’t much like him but he does what he’s asked, and I don’t have grounds to sack him. No one could have thrown a slate tile with that degree of accuracy; I was twenty yards away. It was an accident. Let’s leave it at that. Besides, you wouldn’t want to lose Mrs Webber, and you know she’d have to leave if her husband went.’
Whilst this was true, Luna was determined to keep a closer eye on the man. However, she didn’t want to push the matter when Marcus was recuperating so left it to battle out another day.
Sighing, she rose to her feet and begin to undress, surprised how self-conscious she felt considering their activities of the previous night.
‘Well, I say, this is a jolly fine affair,’ he huffed. ‘A man’s wife all but naked in front of him, and he under doctor’s orders not to do a damn thing about it.’
She smiled and slipped on her nightgown, leaning across the bed to kiss his cheek. A thousand worries were coursing around her head, and the most immediate of these was trying not to worry what havoc Great-Aunt Elspeth might wreak in the morning.