The Blighted Cliffs (10 page)

A
quick glance over my shoulder sent me sliding down on one knee, but I
recovered my balance even as a gust of wind tried to toss me in yet
another direction. Now I could see the edge of the trees, hear the
wind hissing through their branches only a few yards on.

I
reached the valley's rim. The trees dropped away before me, and I was
about to plunge into whatever shelter they might offer when I saw an
orange light glowing on my left. The water running off my sodden hair
had half blinded me, and I needed a moment to clear my eyes; even
then I could hardly be sure, peering through my fingers into the
whirl of rain and cloud, but it seemed that at the head of the
shallow valley, hidden until now by the slope, stood a house. I could
see only the vaguest outline of the building itself, but light shone
from its windows like a beacon.

'There,'
I shouted, though I had no idea if Ducker had heard me; then I was
stumbling across the hillside, making as straight as I could for that
inviting light. My feet slid constantly away from me, and though the
slope provided some protection against the wind, the rain beat down
heavier than ever.

As
I neared the house, I began to see its size: with its two storeys,
crenellated rooftop and miniature turrets, it seemed more the home of
a squire than a farmer. Its gardens too were fashionable rather than
practical, I noticed, gouging my way across the lawns. There was no
obvious entrance in the facade ahead of me, but a gravel path around
the side brought me out to the front, where a large portico, like
some Grecian temple, announced the door.

"This’ll
do,' acknowledged Ducker as we came under the roof.

'We
can wait 'ere till it clears.'

'Certainly
not,' I retorted. 'A fine pair of ruffians we'd make, loitering on
these good people's doorstep.'

I
heard a muttered reply, something about a pair of ruffians loitering
in the parlour instead, but I was learning to ignore his naysaying.
Besides, rain was still driving between the columns, and I was
freezing in my soaking uniform. Without further argument, I tugged on
the chain that hung by the door and heard the tinkling of a bell
within.

After
some moments, a servant in black livery, with a powdered wig sitting
crookedly on his young face, opened the door.

'My
apologies for the intrusion,' I announced grandly, 'but we are two
travellers in need of shelter. Will you convey my compliments to the
gentleman of the house, and tell him that Lieutenant Jerrold desires
his acquaintance.'

The
boy looked surprised, but vanished promptly enough, leaving the door
standing open. Inside I could see a wide staircase, small paintings
of hunting scenes on the wall, and several doors leading off in
different directions. Were it not for the flickering light of the
chandelier, which rocked in the breeze, it would have seemed
perfectly welcoming.

The
servant returned. 'This way,' he told me, too shy to meet my gaze. He
showed us across the hall and through another door into a dim room.

'What
an agreeable surprise.' The voice, low and gentle, came before I had
accustomed myself to my surroundings. 'I had not expected the
pleasure of company.'

Staring
across the room, I took in the woman who had spoken. She reclined on
a divan opposite me, and in her languid pose needed only a bunch of
grapes to look the complete Roman maiden. Auburn hair drooped in
ringlets about her face, framing delicate cheeks and full, slightly
pouting lips. Her dress was in the old French style, with a neckline
nearer the waist than the neck - a suckling dress, some call it,
though I've yet to meet a mother who wore one. It clung to the curves
of her figure almost as close as my wet clothes on me. A glass, half
full, sat on the table beside her.

'Lieutenant
Jerrold,' she murmured, raising her head slightly to peer at me.
'You're dripping mud on my carpet.'

Embarrassed,
I looked down to see the truth of what she had said. Though it was
ridiculous, I could think of nothing better than to remove my shoes
and stockings.

'I
must apologize,' I stammered, standing there barefoot. 'We did not
set out thinking to pay a social call, but were caught in the storm.'

She
lifted a hand, then let it fall back across her chest. 'No matter,
Lieutenant Jerrold.' Her voice was slow, and somehow distant. 'Your
company is... a pleasure.' I noticed a slurred edge to her words, as
if she could not quite keep hold of them.

'You
are most kind.' I was trying to keep from staring at her, but the
rise of her bosom tugged constantly at my gaze, tantalizing me with a
little flush of rose on the line of her dress. 'May I request the
honour, Mrs... ?'

'Lady.'
She invested the title with unfeigned ennui. 'Lady Cunningham.' She
paused, distracted by some hidden thought. 'My husband is away.'

This
was all a little fantastic, standing without shoes in this blandly
tasteful drawing room as a half-dressed Delilah tempted me, without
the least enthusiasm, from the couch.

A
thought struck me. 'I wonder, Lady Cunningham, could I enquire,
without seeming forward: did you happen to notice anything unusual
outside the night before last?'

Her
dull eyes fixed on me. 'The night before last,' she repeated, sipping
at her drink. She jerked her head. 'But I forget my hospitality.
Please sit down. Would you care for a drink?'

'A
glass of wine would warm me nicely,' I admitted, surprised at her
sudden change of conversation. Her manner was so vague I could hardly
tell whether she had forgotten her thought midway, or intended to
divert me from my question.

She
called for the boy - Samuel was his name - and ordered him to fetch
wine, while I took the chair opposite her. Ducker remained standing
against the wall behind me.

'Your
health, Lady Cunningham.' I took a sip, and coughed in surprise as,
for the second time that day, I tasted a rather fine French
refreshment. 'You must have a well-stocked cellar to still be serving
this after so many years of war.'

She
shr
ugged
carelessly. 'The butler buys it in Dover, I think. I usually keep to
my tincture.' She tapped a long nail against the side of her glass.

'Concerning
the other night,' I pressed. 'Do you recall anything out of the
ordinary?'

'Lieutenant,'
she said, sitting upright and quite oblivious to my question.
'You're watering my furniture.'

I
looked down and saw a patch of damp spreading across my seat.

'I
do apologize,' I said, jumping to my feet. 'My uniform, I fear, is
the worse for the weather.'

'Poor
Lieutenant,' she cooed. 'How remiss of me. You must change at once,
or I fear you will catch your death. My husband has some clothes
which should do.'

'There
is no need ...'

But
she would have none of it. A sudden energy had possessed her, and she
was all bustle. As she stood, I noticed with a start that her dress
was not all of a piece, but opened down the middle, tied over her
petticoat with thin ribbons. None of it served her modesty
particularly well, and I felt my breeches tightening.

'Will
your man want dry clothes?' she asked.

Unfortunately,
I could not see Ducker's face, but I guessed he would be livid at
being called my man. I thought it hilarious.

'I'll
do fine, thank you, ma'am,' he answered evenly. 'Sailors dry easy.

'As
you please.' She turned back to me. 'Samuel will find some thing for
you.'

Samuel
led me up the broad stairs and opened the door to a darkened room.

"Ere,'
he said, putting a candle down on the dresser.

I
looked around as he rummaged in the wardrobe, taking in the solid
wooden bed, the heavy curtains, and the thick carpet beneath my toes.
Two strongboxes were stacked against the wall, and a small ivory
mirror lay on the dresser next to the candle; otherwise there were
few clues to the owner's tastes. Even the paintings, I saw, were near
duplicates of the ones downstairs.

Samuel
pulled out a shirt and a dark suit and laid them on the bed.

'Might
do,' he muttered, leaving the room.

It
took some effort to prise off my clothes, for they were stuck fast
against my skin, and no small amount of tugging would move them.

I
felt uneasy, and not a little vulnerable, standing exposed in a
stranger's room, and I was in haste to dress when a creak at the door
rent the stifled silence.

Already
unnerved by the mournful house, I spun around. The door was hanging
loosely ajar, and to my shock, as I looked through the crack, I saw
Lady Cunningham standing on the landing. The light from the
chandelier shone through her dress, silhouetting her figure with a
golden haze; she stood perfectly still, and showed no recognition or
embarrassment, yet seemed to be watching me.

I
snatched the shirt and hauled it on, grateful that it hung low enough
to cover my dignity. Still the watching Argus did not avert her gaze,
nor yet show the least acknowledgement of an impropriety.

'Lieutenant,
sir?' I felt a surge of relief to hear Ducker's voice from the foot
of the stairs. 'Rain's let up. Time we was going.'

Turning
my back on Lady Cunningham, I pulled on her husband's suit and
bundled my own wet garments together. Fastening the buttons as
swiftly as I could, I stepped out of the room and made for the
stairs, passing Lady Cunningham rather self-consciously.

'You
may leave those here,' she said, waving at the sodden clothes I
carried. 'The maid will wash them.'

I
had no time to argue. Nodding my thanks, I dropped them where I
stood.

'My
husband was away,' she added, talking as much to the empty air as to
me, and at first I thought she was just repeating an excuse. I sleep
badly, you see. I was trying to find my bottle when I saw it out of
the window.' I realized that my question on the night before last
might finally have registered in her mind. 'Burning, down in the
valley.'

'You
saw a fire in the valley?' I asked, and she nodded earnestly. Though
it might easily have been a gamekeeper eating his dinner, it was the
first I had heard of anything unusual on the heights report that
evening, and I was determined to investigate it. Later.

'My
thanks for your hospitality, milady,' I said quickly. 'And for the
loan of the suit. I hope to have the honour again soon, but I fear I
may be late for an appointment. At the castle,' I added, in a cheap
attempt at insinuating my dignity.

She
looked tip. 'The castle?' She gave a little laugh. 'Then you may see
my husband.'

I
froze.

'I
beg your pardon?' I said.