Voices in a Haunted Room

She was quite inventive. She would say that I was Billy Grafter’s prisoner in the boat house, that she had seen him bring me here, that she had slipped in and been unable to free me and I had begged her to go to bun for help.

I guessed that in the circumstances, because of his fear for me, Jonathan would not pause to consider the story closely. He would come at once.

How long had she been away? It must be more than half an hour. These could be my last minutes on earth. I had seen purpose in Dolly’s eyes; she had loved her sister devotedly. Evie had been all that she was not ... pretty, attractive-and she had lived for Evie.

Oh, I understood Dolly’s motives, her feelings, her emotions. The sadly maimed one, taken care of by her beautiful sister, giving all the affection of which she was capable-and that was a good deal-to Evie. Then the chain of events ... the coming of Alberic, the love between him and Evie, the consequences, and then the death of Alberic.

I could understand the heartbreak, the intensity of the sorrow she had felt. Yes, I could understand why Dolly had been thrown off balance. I could understand why she could contemplate murder. But she had been moved by Jessica. I could see that in her face when she had spoken of her. I trembled to think that it might have been Amaryllis. What if it had been? Oh no, that was too appalling to contemplate!

I tried to look into the future. Jonathan would come. He would be killed. Then Dolly would shoot me. Would they send us both to the bottom of the ocean?

An idea came to me which filled me with horror. We should both be missing ... lying at the bottom of the sea, weighed down so that there was no danger of our bodies being washed ashore as Alberic’s had been. They would say that we had gone away together. Millicent would recall her suspicions. And David ... what of David?

I had not thought of that until this moment and now I was filled with wretchedness.

This was what I could least bear. He would believe I had gone off with his brother ... that I had deserted him and my child.

“Oh no ... no ...” I moaned.

I cared so much about David, and the thought of his believing this of me, of the wound it would inflict, hurt me more than anything else I could think of. I was in a cold sweat.

I would implore Dolly not to do this. Let her kill me if she would ... but not let it be thought that I had disappeared ... with Jonathan.

She would never agree. How could she without implicating herself?

“Shoot me,” I would plead. “But leave my body in the boat house. Leave me here with Jonathan ... and Billy Grafter could get away in the boat ... but leave us here.

Let David know that I was not guilty of the ultimate betrayal.”

An hour must have passed.

It could not be long now. I was straining my ears. Then suddenly I heard the shot and I knew that Jonathan had arrived.

There was another shot and another. The shooting went on for some seconds.

Dolly was in the boat house; her hair fell wildly about her shoulders; she was white-faced and she was staring at me madly.

She said-. “Billy’s dead. He’s got Billy.”

Great gladness seized me. I said: “And Jonathan ... ?”

“Him too,” she said. “They’re both lying there. I’ve got to kill you now. It’s your turn ... and Billy’s not here to help me.”

I felt numb. Jonathan dead! I could imagine it. He would have come riding onto the beach, making for the boat house ... and Billy was lying hidden. Billy would shoot, but unless he killed Jonathan with the first shot, he would not succeed. Jonathan would be ready ... on the dart.

“Dead,” I said. “Jonathan ... dead.”

“Billy too ...” she murmured and she picked up the gun, and pointed it at me.

”There’ll be blood,” she said. “There is blood. Poor Billy. I don’t like blood.”

Then she dropped her gun and covered her face with her hands. “I can’t do it,” she said. “I thought I could but I can’t. I couldn’t kill the little baby.”

“Of course you can’t do it, Dolly. I understand everything. I know how you felt.

Help me now. Untie these ropes. Let’s go and see them. Perhaps they’re not dead.”

She looked at me and I saw the timid girl I had always known.

“They are dead,” she said.

“They might not be. Perhaps there is something we could do.”

She hesitated. I felt then that my life was in the balance. Everything depended on the next few seconds. Suddenly she nodded. She felt in the pocket of her gown and brought out a knife. She looked at it for a moment and paused. I thought she was going to change her mind. Then she cut the ropes. I stumbled out of the boat house. I saw Billy Grafter first. He was lying on the sand, which was dyed red all around him.

He was undoubtedly dead.

And there was Jonathan.

I had never thought to see him so. He lay limply and his face was the colour of ivory.

He looked like a different person ... so quiet ... so still. His horse was standing patiently by. He must have dismounted before he was shot.

I leaned over him. I thought I detected a faint flutter of breath.

“Jonathan, my love, don’t die. Please ...”