Chapter Fifteen #2
The one thing in my mind is that I need to find Arabella.
Get her away from Harfold and her cousin, at least until we can work out how to deal with him; she’s in too much danger here.
If not the poison, there are still a hundred other ways she might ‘kill herself’: a fall down the stairs, drowning, hanging, a farmer’s shotgun under the chin.
I won’t let that happen to her. I know that Reacher’s threatened to expose me if I tell her about his plans, but I have to believe Arabella would side with me.
First, what happened to Mutton is clear proof of Reacher’s schemes.
And second, she told me she’s in love with me.
That has to mean she’ll believe me. Doesn’t it?
I struggle to find her. Not in the drawing room, not in the library, not in her bedroom.
Then I remember: the full moon. She’s off over the fields, looking for that lucky hare, in the grip of the obsession that Reacher has planted and grown within her.
Though I don’t care much for his hints that I’m missing a key detail here.
Don’t forget to ask Bellsy about that curse!
Or better yet, read that bloody journal of hers.
It’s clear he’s just trying to cloud my judgement.
Divide and conquer: it’s got to be the oldest trick in the book.
Then again … I have a sudden flash of memory.
Arabella’s reaction when I asked, joking, to read her diary.
You must never touch it. The fleeting panic I thought I saw.
Now that Reacher has put the doubt in my head, I’m becoming more and more certain that there’s something Arabella doesn’t want me to know.
I shake this off. Before anything else, I need to make sure Arabella is safe from Reacher.
Explanations can come later. She’s been out for hours and is sure to return soon – if I go out to meet her, I should be able to catch her on her way home, stop her from walking back into Reacher’s clutches.
Not taking the time to fetch heavier clothing from upstairs, I pull on the jacket and boots I keep in the back hallway cupboard.
Slip on my gloves, their careful embroidery a reminder that Reacher’s full of shit about Arabella not caring for me.
I take up my trusty electric torch – heavy enough to hit someone over the head, if I need it.
Keep expecting Reacher to jump out at me, stop me, but he doesn’t.
I strike out into the silver garden. The night is windy, with high, thin clouds racing over the moon’s swollen face as if afraid to let it catch them.
Fingers of cool air hook themselves under my collar.
I wish I had my scarf. Passing by the woods, I hear the trees creaking as a mournful chorus.
Branches whip about overhead. It will be no use calling out to Arabella – my voice will be snatched away before it’s even left my lips.
Crossing the lawn, I catch the glitter of a lantern out in the fields.
Perfect timing. As I pick up my pace, I become aware that I keep looking around for something.
Realize it’s Mutton. A hollow feeling in my stomach.
I’m so used to his pawsteps echoing my tread, I wonder when I’ll stop hearing the memory of them.
Another thing that Reacher needs to pay for.
By the time I come up to the river, I can see Arabella herself, much closer now, low-held gleam lighting her from below. I’m struck with intense relief, even though of course Reacher couldn’t have done anything to harm her since I last saw her.
‘Vee!’ she calls, when she’s close enough to recognize me. At least, that must be what she says – I see her mouth move, but don’t hear the words.
She’s right at the property border now, just across the footbridge.
I walk over it, careful of the slick surface.
Moonlight sparkles off the river below, giddying for a moment.
Then I’m face to face with Arabella. ‘What are you doing out here?’ she asks.
She’s wrapped up tight in a patchy fur coat, clutching to her head a felt hat that’s about fifteen years out of date, from under which strands of hair flail rebelliously about.
The wind’s bitten her cheeks red as poppies.
Without having planned to, I throw my arms around her in a hug, the plush fur making her wider than I’m used to.
She staggers in surprise, holding the lantern awkwardly to one side. ‘Goodness, what’s all this about?’
I release her and glance over my shoulder, as if Reacher might have followed. I’m standing right at the end of the bridge, subtly blocking her path back to the manor. ‘Look here,’ I say, ‘Harfold isn’t safe for you, not while your cousin’s there.’
‘Pardon?’ A bemused smile on her face. She must think I’m making a joke, the punchline not immediately obvious.
‘Reacher,’ I say. ‘I know this sounds crazy, but he’s trying to kill you. The poison that Mutton ate – that was meant for you. Reacher added it to our tea-tray, and if Mutton hadn’t got to it first, it would have been you we’d had to bury.’
The smile falters, only the confusion remaining. ‘What … why are you saying this?’
It’s all coming out wrong, too dramatic to seem real.
It’s clear she doesn’t believe what I’m telling her, can’t grapple with the idea of Reacher doing such a thing.
But I have to keep trying – she has to understand.
‘It’s true,’ I press on, ‘he just admitted the whole thing to me! He wants to murder you so he can inherit Harfold, and he asked for my help to stage it as a suicide, or else he says he’ll frame me for it. ’
‘This isn’t funny, Vee.’ Arabella tries to pass me, to step on to the bridge, but I take a pace back and block her, boot landing on slimy wood. She pouts. ‘It’s cold; I want to go inside.’
‘I’m serious, Arabella. Cross my heart.’
Now she frowns. Shakes her head. ‘Morry wouldn’t … Look, you don’t understand how it is for the two of us. How can you? You have been here for such a short time.’
‘Arabella—’ I try to take her free hand.
‘Morry doesn’t want to inherit Harfold,’ she insists, shaking off my grip. ‘He knows that the curse—’ She’s looking around wildly now, as if expecting something to jump out at her at any moment. Eyes wide as two full moons.
‘There’s no curse – he made it up!’ I’m near shouting now, struggling to hide my frustration. ‘He’s been lying to you for years, so that you’ll keep depending on him, trusting him.’
Again, she shakes her head.
I force myself to stop. Breathe out. Lower the race of my pulse. ‘I don’t want to argue. That’s what he wants: to turn us against each other. He kept saying all of these things about why you think you’re cursed, that the hare isn’t the whole story. Trying to manipulate me, like.’
‘He said that?’ Arabella tugs at the collar of her coat, as if struggling to breathe. I expect her to deny it, to tell me that Reacher was lying about this as well, but instead she says, ‘Not the whole story … I suppose it isn’t.’
‘What does that mean?’
She ignores my question. ‘What else did he say?’
I don’t want to admit it to myself, but her reaction has worried me.
Fed into the bubbling doubts Reacher has created.
‘That you made me sign that deed to see if the curse would move on to me. To offer me up in your place.’ I want her to laugh this all off, but instead there’s an expression of panic.
Animal caught in the headlights. It makes me hesitate – just for a moment. ‘Arabella? You didn’t—’
She cuts me off: ‘I don’t want to hear any more.’
‘No, you have to listen!’
In a sudden lunge, she shoves me. I think she just means to push past me, but I’m caught fully off-guard, and there’s no grip on the surface of the bridge.
My boot sole skids across damp wood. A shock of intense pain as my skull connects with the railing.
Roaring inside my head, like the sea. Flashes of brightest black pop before my eyes.
Then I’m falling. The last thing I see through the bursting colours is Arabella’s face, lit in crazy angles by her lantern, my dropped electric torch.
The image so clear that it feels burnt into my eyes.
She hasn’t moved an inch to help me – just like that time before, when I fell down the stairs.
She isn’t even looking at me. Her focus is beyond, as if she can see something in the distance.
Surprised O of her mouth. A single tear on her cheek.
Then, at the final instant, her expression melts into one of relief.
And I realize that Reacher was right. She really did mean to pass the curse on to me.
Thought it had come to claim me that time on the stairs.
And this time – as the river water meets me with a slap – I know that it has.