Chapter 44
44
As they stood together under a breaking dawn, Constable Jones came staggering up the track that led to the ferry, and beyond that, Honeysuckle Cottage. The man’s face was grey and his eyes glassy and unfocused, as he called out to them. He came to a halt by the gate and Marcus reached for Luna’s hand and held it tight. They would fight whatever was thrown at them as man and wife, and she would go to the grave declaring herself to be Luna Greybourne. They knew each other’s darkest secrets now, and if that had not torn them apart, then nothing could.
‘I took a small party of villagers to Findlay’s place,’ the constable said, his head shaking slowly from side to side as if to dislodge the things he’d seen. ‘And we now know Mr Webber’s words to be true. The whole thing has disturbed everyone beyond measure and some of the men returned to deal with the woods for you, sir.’ By this, he could only mean that all evidence of what had happened at the well was currently being tidied up or disposed of. ‘Your man even talked a bit about what he’d witnessed with your wife over the last few years, before she was able to wean herself from the laudanum. He says it’s like she’s a different woman now she’s free of the opiates and deserves a second chance.’ The men exchanged a look. ‘Let’s just say, the villagers who mistook your wife for a witch now realise that she is not guilty of any of the unjust accusations of dabbling in the supernatural.’
Marcus nodded.
Yes, thought Luna, because Webber told them I’m not her. In their gratitude for ridding them of Findlay, the community were prepared to accept her as his wife of ten years, even though many knew this to be a lie. Luna could just imagine Mrs Cole taking the lead and telling everyone of the hell that Marcus had lived through, and asking if he didn’t deserve a little happiness.
‘Little Doubton owes you a great deal, Mrs Greybourne. I shall be informing the magistrate that I have no doubt of your identity, and several upstanding members of the community are prepared to swear on the Bible, if necessary, that you are who you say you are. And that includes Doctor Gardener – whose testimony alone should put the matter to bed. The young lady who made the accusation against her maid has no reason to suppose Rose Turner is in Little Doubton, and the tinker can be persuaded to keep quiet.’
Luna and Marcus looked at each other in surprise. Dear God – what had the cunning man been responsible for that God-fearing men would perjure themselves? The mutilated animals, summoning the dead… and Penny. It didn’t bear thinking about.
But Luna didn’t want to spend her life looking over her shoulder, worrying about who might stroll through their front meadow looking for her, or who she might meet when she popped into the village for supplies. She was done with running.
‘I have no right to ask this, Constable Jones, but if the magistrate can be made to accept that I am Marcus’s wife, perhaps he could also be persuaded to look further into the murder of Daniel Thornbury. I would be eternally grateful,’ Luna said.
‘I think you have every right to ask for our help, Mrs Greybourne. If you asked for the moon, I’ve a feeling the people of Little Doubton would cast a fishing line into the night sky and hook it down for you. If you tell me all that you know, I will certainly do my best.’
‘Then please ask him to consider that Rose Turner may well be innocent. A woman fleeing because she was framed by another? Miss Eloise Haughton was in love with Daniel and was not best pleased when he proposed to her servant girl. It was she who asked Rose to buy the flypapers, and who made the cordial that Daniel drank. Why would a maid purchase such a thing for the household, unless she had been asked to by her mistress? The maid was not stupid; she would have gone to a chemist where she was not known, if she intended to use them to kill.’
‘Then Rose should return to Lowbridge and defend herself. It was beyond madness to run.’
‘I believe she panicked because her mistress was prepared to tell wicked lies, and she didn’t think she would be believed.’
The constable nodded and she felt Marcus’s arm pull her even closer.
‘Then I will do my best. Although I should like to know how you have come by all this information?’ he asked, but he knew; she could see it in his eyes.
‘Let’s just say that once, what feels like a lifetime ago, I knew Rose Turner very well.’
‘Then please pass my regards on to her, should you see her,’ he said, and nodded.
‘Oh, that poor woman is long gone. I doubt anyone will ever see her again…’
Luna left Marcus by the front gate, talking to the constable, and returned to the house. He promised not to be long but she needed to rest.
She passed Mrs Webber bustling about in the kitchens so stopped to speak to her.
‘Goodness, where have you been?’ the housekeeper said. ‘Woke up to find myself alone in an empty house and the doors unlocked. I thought witches had got the lot of you.’
‘We’re all fine but I am exhausted and must sleep. I’ll tell you all about it another time. Please inform the master I’m upstairs when he returns. My head still feels very wobbly and the shock of everything hasn’t hit me yet.’
Although it had been colder outside than it was in, she was starting to shake. It would take a long time to work through everything that had happened to her in the last six months but much of it she would shut behind a solid door and padlock from the outside, never to be opened.
With the constable promising to investigate Miss Haughton’s involvement in Daniel’s death, was it possible that Mr and Mrs Greybourne could now walk into the sunlight together and not give a backwards glance to the shadows left behind?
Mrs Webber looked concerned but didn’t question her further.
‘Of course. Get some rest, my dear, and I’ll prepare a special dinner for this evening when you’re feeling a bit perkier. I thought I might try something new. I’ve seen a recipe for quite an exotic soufflé and you look like you could do with cheering up.’ Luna took a deep breath and forced out a smile. Mrs Webber and exotic did not go hand in hand and she was looking forward to Hattie’s return the following day. ‘And let me know if you see that husband of mine. I haven’t set eyes on him since yesterday evening, but I know he’s been home because he’s taken some fresh clothes from the drawer. ’
Luna nodded, climbed the stairs and headed for the bedroom, but when she got to her doorway, she froze. There were footsteps in the attic again, she could hear them as plain as day, yet she had seen the ghosts pass over to the other side in Findlay’s bizarre ritual – Marcus’s wife, amongst them.
Ever-practical, she knew she would not be able to sleep if she didn’t investigate, and this time, she was not laid up in bed with a broken ankle preventing her from doing so. She walked to the end of the corridor and opened the small door that led up to the top floor. It had not been locked since her arrival in the spring, when Marcus had finally known it was safe to retrieve those possessions and heirlooms that he had kept away from his wife’s violent temper.
Cautiously, she pulled the door towards her and, with silent feet, crept up the narrow wooden stairs. She had not been to this part of the house before, having been told by Marcus to stay away from it when she’d first arrived. As her head peered over the top step, she could see it was dotted with tea chests. A few fragile ornaments and lamps stood about, and four very small windows gave her enough light to make out the hunched figure of Mr Webber bending over a small crate. A carpet bag was by his feet and he was filling it with selected items. He heard her before he saw her and jumped up.
‘Now look ’ere?—’
She knew exactly what he was up to but was too weary to care. He’d probably been taking the occasional small trinket since Marcus had ordered the attics unlocked, she realised, and it was undoubtedly him she’d heard when she’d been laid up with a broken ankle. But his thieving wasn’t what she wanted to address. She stepped up into the room and faced him.
‘I’m not sure why or how you managed to gather the village together, particularly on a night when so many were petrified to leave their houses, but I am forever in your debt.’
His head jolted backwards; he’d not been expecting praise. His eyes narrowed but he detected the sincerity in her voice.
‘Well…’ He shrugged, ‘Like I said, I’d seen things and, although I don’t like you much, I liked her even less. I’m pretty certain she weren’t no witch,’ he scoffed. ‘She was out of her wits, a vicious little bitch when riled, and her dancing and singing were all a load of mumbo jumbo. But when I finally worked out that bastard was behind it all, I was worried for everyone’s safety – ’specially my own. It was only when the doctor started reading out bits of that journal that we realised how wicked he truly was. Them birds knew though – that was why they never let him into the woods and why Bran made such a fuss that day he came here to help with your foot.’
Of course, she’d assumed the raven was agitated by being near Mr Webber – which he probably was; he was a desperately unpleasant man who treated his wife like a punchbag. But Findlay had been a whole other level of evil, and the raven had sensed the cunning man downstairs that day. Their visitor had believed all the birds dead. No wonder he never returned to Ravenswood after that first occasion; Bran would have pecked him to pieces.
‘There’s been evil about these parts for a long time,’ he continued. ‘I guess it was easy to pin it all on a madwoman but, it turns out, even the most pious amongst that lot would happily perjure themselves for the woman who removed the very Devil from our lives.’
‘Like I said, thank you.’ There was an awkward pause and her eyes fell to the carpet bag. ‘Your wife is looking for you.’ But Luna knew he was preparing to leave Ravenswood for good and she’d worked out why.
Webber’s nightly expeditions had been to visit the widow she’d seen him with at the harvest supper. The woman lived over the hill, on the other side of the woods, and she suspected the manservant had been seeing her for years. The figure she’d seen running from the house the day they returned from the village had been his visiting mistress. With his wife away, the cat had played. It was possible that the man was even father to some of the smaller children.
‘Look, the missus didn’t see me creep back in this morning, and things here have got… complicated, so consider this me handing in my notice. That young Oscar can do twice my work and I know you don’t much like me. I’m sure you’ll be glad I’m out your hair.’ He paused. ‘I didn’t do it, you know, throw the tile at the master. I swear I dropped it down to the lad and it shot sideways like magic. Never seen anything like it.’
She nodded, knowing that there were things she had also witnessed since arriving at Ravenswood that defied explanation. Perhaps the real Luna had been responsible; it wouldn’t be the first time a jealous woman had harmed the man she loved. Would Eloise ever be made to pay for her crime? Luna didn’t know, but there was a whole village who would swear that she was not Rose Turner. It was unlikely Miss Haughton would be seeking her out; a guilty missing maid would suit her just fine. A found and innocent one might not.
‘I’ll be leaving now, if you don’t mind.’ Webber bent down to retrieve his bag, before hoisting it over his shoulder, the contents within clanging as metal hit metal. ‘Tell the wife I’m sorry for everything. It’s the drink, see? I just can’t stop m’self.’
He didn’t need to say anything further. Life was not black and white. Both herself and Marcus understood that only too well. Good people could be driven to do bad deeds, and occasionally bad people could do good .
The manservant walked towards her, but she was blocking his exit and stood firm.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, but if you try to stop me, I will.’
If she cried thief, Marcus might hear her and come to her rescue, but she didn’t want her husband involved in a fight, particularly as she had no idea if Mr Webber was armed. Material possessions meant nothing to her. Her life here meant everything.
She stepped to the side and let him pass.
His one good deed – the kindness he had shown by rallying the village and clearing her name – was worth every last silver spoon.
When she entered her bedroom, Bran was sitting outside the window, waiting for her. She opened the sash, expecting him to hop over the sill, but he stayed outside. Too tired to play his games, she crawled under the counterpane and left the window as it was, for him to come and go.
There was the sound of beating wings approaching, and Luna turned back to see two black silhouettes against the morning sky.
‘Kiss me,’ squawked Bran.
The smaller bird hopped from foot to foot, before settling and tipping her head to preen his feathers. And Luna smiled to herself as she allowed her eyes to close and her mind to float off into a dreamworld, far from the nightmare she had just been through.
Luna had found her magic, collided with it on a riverside path early one April morning, when she truly believed her life was at an end, and now it appeared her beloved Bran had found his own magic, too.