‘They’re not here, Joss – ’
‘They are. They’re singing about Katherine. Can’t you hear them?’
‘Yes, I can hear them.’ Natalie put her arm round Joss’s shoulders. ‘Come on down. If they want to tell us something they will.’
Joss let out a sob. She had not stopped trembling. ‘I can’t cope with this.’
‘Yes, you can. You’re doing fine. Come on down, out of the cold and we’ll talk about it.’ Firmly she turned Joss round and half led, half pushed her down the passage towards the stairs.
It was my Lady Katherine
The little song, masked by the wind and rain, echoed in the distance as they reached the stairs.
Natalie squeezed Joss’s arm. ‘Don’t take any notice. They’ll come if they want to.’ Leading her back into the bedroom she went over to the bedside table and turned on the lamp. In the sudden light she could see Joss’s face puffy with grief and tears.
Joss wrapped her arms around herself. ‘You said I was carrying his child,’ she whispered. ‘You said it was his daughter – ’
‘I was speaking metaphorically, Joss.’ Natalie kept her voice calm.
‘It’s Luke’s. I remembered. We made love in the bathroom. That’s when it must have happened – ’
‘Of course it did.’
‘It can’t be his,’ she gestured at the empty air near the bed where Edward had stood. ‘That’s not possible. It’s not. That’s obscene!’
‘Joss, I said metaphorically – ’
‘You are saying he made love to me in the cellar –’ Joss rushed on not heeding her interruption. ‘He put his arms round me and he kissed me and he held me. I think I must have fainted – I don’t remember what happened next.’
His eyes. She could remember his eyes, close to hers, full of love and compassion, the black velvet, then the touch of his hands, warm, commanding …
‘He could have done anything – ’
‘Joss, calm down. He couldn’t have done anything. He has no body; no real body.’
‘Supposing he did the same to my mother. Supposing he raped my mother!’ She was rushing on now, her thoughts out of control. ‘Supposing – ’
Forgive me, Jocelyn, but I can no longer fight your father’s wishes. I have no strength left. I am leaving Belheddon, with all its blessings and its curses, but he will only let me escape if I give in. He wants Belheddon to be yours and I have to obey. If you read this letter then he will have got his way.
‘Supposing he’s my father!’ She stared at Natalie, numb with shock.
‘No, Joss. Don’t even think it – ’
‘The women of this house. Laura, Lydia, Mary Sarah – all of them! He made love to all of them!’ She sat down abruptly, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. ‘My mother knew. That’s why she tried to send me away. She tried to break the spell! To save me! But she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her!’
‘The spell was very powerful, Joss. A real spell.’ Natalie knelt in front of her and took her cold hands in her own warm ones. Her voice was very gentle. ‘But we’re going to break it. It’s half done already. Then Belheddon will be a safe, happy, place again.’ She smiled. ‘I promise. We can do it. You can do it.’
‘The others couldn’t.’ It was a whisper. Her lips were cracked and dry.
‘The others didn’t know how to. We do. The time is right and you aren’t alone as your poor mother was. You can do it, Joss.’ Natalie’s large grey eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Joss’s. ‘You can.’
‘How?’
‘We have to call him back.’ Natalie was trying to will some of her own strength into the woman sitting in front of her. ‘We have to call him back and release him so he never wants to come back.’
Joss bit her lip. ‘He’s buried at Windsor. In St George’s Chapel. I looked it up,’ she said slowly.
‘His body may be,’ Natalie said firmly. ‘And when this is over you can go and see his tomb if you want to, but his spirit is at Belheddon Hall.’ She stood up and walked across to the window. Rain was slanting across the garden, pitting the lake, soaking the grass. It was almost dark. As she watched she saw a faint flicker on the horizon. ‘There’s a storm coming.’ She turned. ‘Joss, we have to summon Katherine.’
‘Call him! In the name of Christ and the Virgin, bring him here!’
Her mouth was too dry; the words she was screaming were barely audible.
‘Let him see what he has done to me!’
‘Hush sweeting, save your strength!’
The old woman who had been her own nurse wiped her face again with the piece of linen wrung out in rose water, soothing the sweat-soaked hair off her face with a gentle hand. She looked up at Margaret. ‘You should send for him, my lady. Now.’
The message conveyed in the direct gaze was clear. Send now or it will be too late. Your daughter is dying.
Margaret half closed her eyes and looked away. The spell was a powerful one. It had worked well. It would not fail her now. The king was in thrall; the daughter who would hold him long after the child’s mother had lost her attraction, nearly born.
She smiled and walked across to the side board. Pouring a cup of wine she sipped a little herself, then turned back to the bed. ‘Here, child. Drink this. It will give you strength.’ Raising Katherine’s head a little she held the cup to her lips, then dabbed them gently with a fine linen napkin. ‘There. Rest now.’ She bent low, putting her lips to her daughter’s ear. ‘Remember your mother’s art. You have my strength and my power, and through me, the power that lies sleeping in the ground beneath this place. With it you can do anything.’
The last word was a hiss of triumph as her daughter caught her hand and, convulsed with new waves of pain, began to scream again.
‘How do we call her?’ Joss was staring at the floor. She shook her head slightly, trying to rid it of the noises – the voices, echoing in her ears just beyond her hearing.
‘We could try her name.’