Enchantment & Bridge of Dreams (51 page)

“Y
ES, SHE WAS VERY
beautiful, your mother.”

Joanna Harcliffe sat beside Cathlin, her voice friendly. She spoke with the detached calm of a professional, but her eyes were expressionless and flat. It was nearly dark now, and she liked the dark best. It was the perfect time to make plans. “She had every man at Oxford dogging her steps, even those who didn't care for women. Everything was wonderful then. We were two privileged women with the grandest of prospects before us. Then Elizabeth grew immersed in her art studies and I found myself with a new set, people who had different ideas. I began to see the larger world and all the weaknesses of England. And I came to see that increasing those weaknesses was the key to making a better world for all of us.” She carefully unsnapped her silver watch, then held it before Cathlin's eyes, moving it slowly. “Yes, you're sleeping deeply now, my dear. Just as you were all those years ago when we had our discussions. You remember now, don't you?”

Cathlin frowned, her fingers tensing.

“Answer me, Cathlin.”

“Y-yes. I'm sleepy now, very sleepy.”

“Excellent. We've gone through all this before, of course, all about your memories of that day here at the abbey. And we discovered a different set of memories in our sessions, didn't we? Memories of a woman named Geneva Russell.”

Cathlin's fingers moved restlessly over the chair arm, but she did not speak.

“Tell me, Cathlin.” There was an iron undercurrent in the older woman's voice now.

“Yes. I remember. Geneva. Geneva Russell.”

“Excellent. And do you know how she died?”

Cathlin frowned. “No, I—I can't remember. Only pieces. Painful even now…”

Harcliffe moved the watch rhythmically, her voice like a smooth wave. “Then I'll tell you. Listen well. She jumped from the abbey roof, distraught at her lover's death. Such a sad conclusion to the tale, just like your own past. How unfortunate that you and your mother saw me that day in London, speaking with a man I shouldn't be speaking with and giving him a file I most certainly shouldn't have been giving him. What a bad bit of luck for you that you were there by the duck pond in Regent's Park when your mother saw me. It all had to end, of course,” she said softly. “I'd put far too much time into the government position I'd secured as a confidante and medical adviser to cabinet-level ministers—even to several members of the royal family. The secrets I held were of incredible value to those determined to see change brought about here in England. Nothing—nothing at all—could be allowed to interfere with that process. You do understand, don't you, Cathlin?”

No answer.

“
Tell
me, Cathlin.”

“Yes, I…understand.” It was the soft voice of a child of ten.

“And you do remember seeing me that day. It's coming back to you, isn't it? You remember the ducks, dirty and clamorous, while you tossed in the bread your mother had crumbled up for you.”

Cathlin's face softened and she nodded. “I liked the ducks. I slipped and got mud on my new shoes, but she told me it didn't matter. We'd have them like new before my father saw them. She seemed worried, though. And she didn't want me to know.”

“Yes, Elizabeth was quite the perfect mother. That's why I had to come up with a very special way to dispose of her.” Joanna Harcliffe's eyes moved over the room, detached, analytical. “One of my new compatriots volunteered to take on the assignment. He was careful to lay all the clues to suggest it was the work of one of your father's enemies. Yes, it was a most satisfying conclusion to a nasty little problem and no breath of suspicion ever fell upon me.”

Cathlin's fingers moved restlessly as the hypnotic words continued.

Abruptly the woman beside her frowned. “What are you holding there in your hand?”

Cathlin's fingers opened, revealing a small piece of silver.

“My God, you found it, after all those years. I broke my watch down there that day and had no time to find all the pieces. You didn't see me, but you heard my voice, didn't you?” Joanna Harcliffe laughed softly. “You were such a clever little girl.”

Cathlin's eyes went very wide. Pain flared through their unfocused depths. After a moment she nodded jerkily.

“But I saw to that too. During our little sessions, I blocked out those memories and gave you a different set, didn't I?”

Cathlin nodded. “You—you told me I was responsible. You said if I hadn't insisted on stopping to feed the ducks that day, my mother would still be alive. You said it was all my fault.”

Harcliffe sat back with a small hiss of triumph. “Excellent. A perfect textbook case of deep conditioning that has held up perfectly all these years. Guilt made you the perfect block for your memories, right up until I gave you the code to change it. You do remember the code, don't you, my dear? We went over it so many times.”

Cathlin frowned, looking out into empty space, struggling with burning memories and painful images that threatened to shred her sanity.

She spoke the words flatly, mechanically.

“Well done. And in the wake of those words, all the memories began coming back, didn't they?”

Cathlin nodded, her fingers tight on the piece of silver she'd found in the dust, her connection to the buried secrets of her past.

“Unfortunately, Richard Severance was also interested in what had happened to you, and he had access to information at very high levels. I soon found that he could be a formidable opponent. He had to die, of course, since he'd become a nuisance. But I had to keep you silent, too, until I was ready to clear the slate, and the best way was by keeping you offbalance, by making you question your sanity.”

She looked at the watch, her face hard. “And now, my dear, we're going down into the cellars to look at that wine everyone is so interested in. It is authentic, isn't it?”

Cathlin's fingers tightened with strain. She fought the seductive force of that low voice.

“Come, now, tell me everything. I must insist.”

Cathlin caught a jerky breath. She shuddered, then nodded slowly. “Real. Priceless…” She swallowed, her voice trailing away.

“Excellent. They'll ensure my welcome in the rather unstable country where I'm going tonight. Yes, they
must
be real.” She seemed to rouse herself. “And now, Cathlin, we will go down and you will turn off the alarm system. You know the sequence, don't you? Your dear husband must have told you.”

After a moment Cathlin nodded.

Joanna Harcliffe laughed softly. “Then after we load the wine
in my car, we're going to take a nice, careful walk up to the roof, just you and I. Won't that be lovely?”

Cathlin's hands clenched.

And then slowly, painfully, she nodded.

 

D
OMINIC CURSED AND SLAMMED
his foot to the floor. His hands were white, locked on the wheel, as he went back and forth over Severance's final muttered warning.

Who? Who was behind this horror?

Frowning, he reached for the mobile telephone by his knee. Like all the other times, the result was the same, only static. Even the radio brought no response.

Damn it, where were Marston and the men he'd called in to keep an eye on the abbey? His jaw was set in a hard line as he shot past an approaching fuel truck, barely scraping his fender past in time, and roared south toward the abbey.

 

“G
O AHEAD, MY DEAR
.”
Cathlin was in the entrance hall, her hands locked at her waist. Joanna Harcliffe carefully smoothed a few wisps of hair back into her bun and leaned closer, speaking gently. “The stairs are right behind that door. Push it open, Cathlin. It's a lovely night for an airing on the roof.”

Cathlin faltered.

“Now, my dear. You must do exactly as I say.”

Cathlin nodded and moved forward.

“You do see that you can't be allowed to live. It was amusing to know that I had such power over your future, that with a single string of words I could heal you or destroy you.” Joanna Harcliffe laughed softly. “It was my final, perfect revenge against Elizabeth, who'd always had everything. Everyone delighted in her presence, everyone hung on her every word. After a while there was nothing left for the rest of us.” The elder woman's mouth flattened, settling into an ugly line. “And now her dear little daughter
is in another world, every aspect of her mind under my control. It makes a most satisfactory ending, indeed. How sad that I won't be able to see my husband's face when he finds out.” She laughed coldly. “My poor, stupid, unsuspecting husband. You've done very well, Cathlin,” she crooned, patting her arm. “Very well.”

Behind them came a light footstep.

“Ah, there you are, Hayes.”

Hayes pointed to the rear of the abbey. “The wine's all loaded. We can leave any time.”

“Very good. I shall be out shortly, after I've finished here.”

After a moment her husband's assistant, who was in truth Joanna Harcliffe's assistant, turned and went back out to the waiting truck.

Silently the two women entered the narrow staircase, darkness closing in around them. Dust rose in dancing flecks as they moved up the broad steps to the abbey's roof.

“Hayes is a fool, I'm afraid. I shall dispose of him, too, once I have no more use for him. By this time tomorrow I expect to be comfortably ensconced somewhere far, far away from England. I can never be happy here, in a place where I have had to fight for every advancement and every bit of security.”

Cathlin kept moving.

“But you don't see, do you?” The older woman laughed coldly. “I was there too, part of that whole, tragic tale. After your unexpected regression during our hypnosis sessions, I grew curious and did a regression of my own. Most interesting, it was.” Joanna Harcliffe's voice hardened. “That's how I discovered my own part in your past. I was the one who convinced you to betray the man you loved.”

They had reached the top of the stairs now. “Here we are, my dear. Push open the door.”

A cool wind tore over the parapets as Cathlin shoved the door open. Outside the roof was shrouded in shadows and the coun
tryside spread like a dark velvet sea below them, a few lights shimmering in the distance.

“And now it's finally time to bring our circle closed. You do understand, don't you, Cathlin? Or should I call you Geneva?” The older woman smiled coldly. “Yes, your lover is gone, you're distraught, and everything you value in life is lost. There's only one answer for you now, isn't there?”

Cathlin's fingers moved restlessly at her waist. She scrubbed at her skirt, fighting stains that weren't visible. “I—yes, I understand.”

“And what is it that you must do?”

“Jump. Jump like
she
did. Because it's my fault.”

Behind her James Harcliffe's wife laughed softly. “Very, very good, my dear. The lie worked then, too. Everyone in London was convinced that Gabriel had killed the innocent Geneva Russell and then vanished. My plan was perfect, in fact. But now we're almost finished. Yes, I think this corner will do.”

Below them stretched the dark tangle of Draycott's hills. In the distance the moon hung cold and silver, its light thrown in broken webs across the moat.

“It is time, my dear.”

“Yes—I understand.” Cathlin moved forward, her hands restless. “He is waiting for me and I must go. First Gabriel, then my mother, now myself.”

Without warning, a long shape hurtled from the darkness, ripping at Cathlin's skirts and knocking her backward, away from the roof's edge. She cried out, thrown down against sharp gravel and upturned stones, her head striking the edge of the parapet.

“Get up!” The order was sharp with fury. “You must complete the work you've agreed to.”

Cathlin swallowed. Her hands pressed at her head. She looked down and saw the blood staining her palms. Looked—but did not really see. “Of course,” she said mechanically.

“Be quick about it. I have a great many miles to cover before
morning. I must be far away before that clever husband of yours suspects anything. Closer, my dear, that's right.” Moonlight glinted on the gun in Joanna Harcliffe's fingers. “I would hate to see you change your mind now, after all this time. Yes, take another step, Cathlin.” She laughed softly. “Only a few feet more and everything will finally be complete. Then your sad memories will trouble you no more.”