Authors: Anne Carlisle
The two women in the next room were listening to
every word of this exchange; their voices came clearly through the thin walls. After the mention of “the other gentleman,” a loud, vicious cackle arose from Widow Brown.
Hearing the hag shriek
, Nicholas colored. He calmly went on with his questioning, but his heart muscle was pumping wildly, flooding his system with adrenaline.
“
Did you see anything else, Horatio?”
“
I seen the other gentleman go out through the back garden gate, the same way I always go, when she was standing at the front. He was in a hurry.”
“
Thank you, Horatio,” said Nicholas.
“
Is there anything else, sir?” the boy asked anxiously.
“
Nothing.”
Nicholas stumbled from
the house, the sun blinding him, while the two females howled with malicious laughter.
“
May the evil murderess get the torment she deserves!”
This imprecation, hurled from the prodigious lungs of
Widow Brown, was the last thing Nicholas heard as he crawled onto his horse and turned him toward Bulette.
Nicholas urged Teddy into a gallop and quickly approached his home.
The pupils of his weak eyes were dilated and filmed over with an icy sheen. Before him was the familiar rugged landscape, but what he saw was his wife in the embrace of an unknown male intruder. Bird sounds entered his ears, but what he heard was the sound of his poor mother bang-bang-banging on his front door, to no avail.
The curtain was now drawn from his eyes. The blind man had seen
the light. His jaws were clenched in rage as he came to the front of his house.
There was the closed door
.
Here
, he thought,
is the murder weapon and the scene of the crime
. All appeared deserted. The only life visible was a worm on the threshold. Around the side of the house, he could see the blinds of Cassandra’s upstairs bedroom were still closely shut, though it was almost noon. She was never an early riser.
He unfastened the door and saw Annie May within, quietly setting the kitchen table for Cassandra's late breakfast. Nicholas went straight through to Cassandra’s bedroom and threw open the door
with a bang.
She was standing before the cracked looking-glass in her nightdress
. In one hand was gathered the ends of her long, thick mane of hair, which she was preparing to coil around her head. The squeaky tread of his boots during his rapid approach were the only sounds in the room, as she was not one to speak first. She startled as she glimpsed his face in the glass. His features were horribly red, swollen, and distorted with an emotion she had never seen there before: livid, overpowering rage. As he came up behind her, she thought he might strike her, so she flinched away. The slight motion enraged him even more.
She said hurriedly,
“Why, Nick, whatever is the matter?”
“
You know what the matter is,” he said huskily. “I see foul crime written on your beautiful face.”
Her hand relinquished the rope of hair, and it dro
pped to her side, the loosening hair falling from the crown of her head onto her shoulders and spreading over her white nightdress. As Nicholas wildly stared, in his imagination, he saw the red hair trailing over the white gown as an image of violated innocence, like the blood of a gutted deer on snow.
“
Speak to me of good and evil, wife,” he commanded.
“
Speak of what? Nick, you have been gone for days without a word. I was worried to death. Now you look and act so strangely. Is there something I can do for you?”
“
Yes, you can undo the past. Perhaps your magic is strong enough to do it.”
“
What do you mean?”
“
Your face, my dear, looks very pale and reveals much. Now I am going to reveal a secret to you. Heh heh.”
“
Oh, that is ghastly!”
“
What is?”
“
Your laugh.”
“
I see a terrifying vision. I see you in a graveyard, wearing a long white dress with blood on it. Madam, you have held a life in your hand and dashed it down without mercy.”
“
May I know what I am accused of, my husband? Or have you become a complete madman who speaks in riddles to torment me?”
She
took a few steps closer so she could look him fully in the face. “I think,” she said slowly, “you cannot possibly know how mad you appear. Calm yourself, Nick.”
“
How extraordinary!”
“
What do you mean?”
“
That you can pretend not to know why I am angry. You stand there posing. Do you believe I am still asleep? As I was when my poor mother needed a defense against your evil will, Cassandra? I was there on the floor, asleep.”
“
Oh, so we’re on that theme again. Wonderful!”
He thund
ered on: “Yes, wonderful! That describes you, my wife. Perhaps you can explain why my mother was turned away at my own door, where she came in hopes of receiving a warm welcome from my wonderful wife?”
“
You are mad,” retorted Cassandra. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There has been no such event.”
“Oh ho! Not so fast, Cassandra. There was an innocent witness to the event as described. I have heard the words from his lips on this very day.”
“
Whoever says I turned your mother away tells a lie.”
“
There is no reason for Horatio to lie. Unlike yourself.”
“
What do you mean?”
“
Who was your gentleman caller on the terrible day of the closed door, Cassandra?”
The question hung in the air like a poisoned arrow aimed at her hea
rt. She flinched, and he saw her movement as an unwilling confession.
“
As your husband, I demand an answer! Who was the gentleman caller who kept you occupied while my poor mother was knocking at our door!”
“
There was no gentleman who kept me from answering,” she said coolly. “And even if there were, you have no right to ask such an insulting question in that demented, sneering way. I swear I will not answer you.”
“
By Heaven you will!” he shouted, raising his fist. “I’ll make you answer!”
The red blood inundated her face, previously so pale. He dropped his arm, but his tone remained menacing.
“Do tell me, my darling. Where is he now who was with you that afternoon? Is he under the bed? Up the chimney? What’s extraordinary is that you should ever be alone in my absence, so compelling is your beauty!”
She faltered in answering
. “I can't recollect anyone being with me, but you were here on that day. You would know so yourself.”
“
That was the day,” said Nicholas, his tone growing more menacing with each word, “when I was sleeping by the chimney, and you shut the door against my mother and killed her!” He leaned over her, almost losing his balance. She drew back, clutching her hands. So overcome was she by human guilt, she neglected to recall she had the power to make him stop in his attack.
He grabbed her by the sl
eeve of her nightdress. “Tell me the truth! Do you hear me? Tell me the truth!”
“
But I already have,” she insisted, pulling her arm away. “Nick, what are you going to do now?” Instead of letting her go, he was drawing her closer.
“
Tell me the truth of—of your part in my mother’s death—or I’ll—I’ll—”
“
Leave me now, unless you plan to do away with me altogether.”
“
Kill you? Is that what you expect?”
“
I would prefer it to the hell I live in.”
“
Killing you would make you a martyr. You don't deserve it,” he said viciously. “Besides, I want to keep you as far away from where my mother is now as I possibly can, and she is in heaven. You are truly evil!”
“
I have no desire to play a part on this earth, if that is your opinion of me.”
“
Your part? Your part was to welcome her. Instead you sent my mother away to die like a dog in the heat. The lies! The treachery!”
T
hey were standing toe to toe, staring into each other’s faces with ghastly expressions, like mutually frightened ghosts. He held her by both arms, and so she could not reach her fingers to her breastbone. Anyway it was too late, she believed, to use her powers now. She would have to take whatever fate her raging husband was compelled to deliver her into.
“
Confess to every sin, harlot! Or I will never touch you again!”
H
er mood suddenly veered from defeat to defiance. “Confess? Never! Even though I can clear myself of half of what you accuse me of. Why should I take the trouble to clear fantasies from a madman’s mind? Go on and think your untrue slander. I defy you to prove your accusations are true!”
He turned aside with tears of anger and grief wetting his eyes.
“It is too much to bear. So much evil. But I must spare your life.”
“
Don’t do me any favors.”
“
By God, I can keep at this hot pitch as long as you can! Now, then, madam, tell me the man's name!”
“
There is no man in my life.”
“
How often does he write to you? Where do you put his letters? When do you meet? Wife, I demand you tell me his name!”
“
I will not!”
“
Then I will find it out for myself.” His eyes fell on a small wooden desk in her room where it was her habit to write letters. He rushed to it and tore open the lid. Several envelopes tumbled out.
“
Those are my private things.”
“
No longer.”
With a haughty face, Cassandra stood aside while Nicholas tore open
envelopes and glanced through contents. By no stretch could any of the letters written to her in the past year be considered harmful to her reputation, with the exception of one, which providentially had been removed from its envelope and burned. The envelope was still in the drawer, an oversight. The handwriting on it was Drake’s. He had written to her soon after her wedding, begging her to run away with him. She had never answered.
Nichola
s held up the empty envelope. Cassandra was silent.
“
I am sure I can find more where this came from,” he said exultantly, the fevered look in his face increasing. “What was in this? Who wrote it?”
She shrugged.
“You refuse to answer?”
“
I already did refuse.”
“
Don’t look at me with those eyes. Don't you try to bewitch me. Answer me!”
“
I wouldn’t tell you anything now, even if I was as innocent as the sweetest baby in heaven.”
“
Which you are not!”
“
Certainly I am not. But I haven't done what you accuse me of either.”
“
If you were only sorry and confessed your sin, I could bring myself to pity you. Forgive you, I never can. I am my mother's son.”
“
I don't need your forgiveness or your mother's.”
“
I shall leave you.”
She
raised her chin. “No need. I will go. I want to.”
“
Going to your lover?”
She was silent.
“Lost your voice, Cassandra? Is that what happened when mother was at the door? Think what an opportunity you lost. All you had to do was open the door and say hello. Instead, you killed her. And you ended our last chance for happiness.”
“
Happiness?” she said in a low voice. “My chances for that ended when I sank into the mire of this wilderness life.”
“
You might blame me instead of the environment.”
“
I do not blame you, but you seemed other than what you are.”
“
Am I to blame for your devilish wiles?”
She put out her hand. A cry of anguish escaped her.
“No, Nicholas.”
“
What? You dare offer me your hand? Good God! Do you think I would touch you now? How bewitched I was! How could there be any good in a woman everyone believed so ill of? Perhaps they were right. Based on what I now know, only witchcraft could have kept my mother from entering our house.”
“
Oh, no!” she cried, falling on her knees before him. “Will you please, please stop? Please don't say such a terrible thing. There was no witchcraft. I confess I did not open the door when she first knocked. But I thought you would awaken any second. When you didn't wake up, I opened the door. But I was too late; she was gone. That is the extent of my sin. I beg you to believe me. I swear I wished your mother no harm.”
He looked at her with steel in his eyes
.
“
Was the man in the house with you Drake? Mother always suspected you two.”
“
I cannot say,” she said desperately.
“
You mean you will not!”
“
No one's at fault but me, and I am leaving.”
“
I will go. You can stay.”
“
I will dress, Nick, and then I will go.”
“
Where?”
“
Where I came from. Or somewhere else. What does it matter?”
As quickly as she could,
Cassandra dressed herself in a traveling suit.
She looked at her gold locket
where it lay in a mother-of-pearl box on the dresser. Finally she picked up her scissors, clipped a piece of her hair, and put it into the locket, which she then left out for Nicholas to find. The last things she put on were the amethyst ring Nicholas had given her and her traveling cloak.