Page 60 of Searching for Mr Tilney

‘I’m sorry, Mr Tate, I know I shouldn’t have gone through the doors, I truly am … I hope you’ll forgive me.’

‘I suppose you thought to have a look where you might sleep when I’m dead and gone, is that it? Hoping to get your hands on my castle, as well as those filthy bailiffs? If Harry has any sense he’ll recognise a gold-digger when he sees one before it’s too late. Elsa told me your Ellen Appleby isn’t quite what I’d been led to believe.’

As he moved towards me, I stepped back and felt the window ledge dig into my calf. An icy blast of freezing air on my back made me shiver.

‘I didn’t mean to give anyone the wrong idea. Ellen isn’t my godmother, and though she is very well off, she isn’t the vastly wealthy person you believe her to be.’

‘Well, I’m sure you’ve given my nephew the wrong impression, but I shall make certain you won’t get a penny of what’s coming to him.’

I felt cold fear, and clung to the frame with trembling fingers. I was so frightened that he was going to lunge at me, sending me hurtling through the mist to the sea and the rocks below.

‘It wouldn’t be a good idea to stand too close to the edge,’ he said in a quieter voice that chilled me to the bone. ‘You might fall out.’

I gripped the frame tighter and closed my eyes in terror. I was paralysed, so full of dread that I just wished it would be over. In those few seconds my brain was racing as I tried to work out what to do for the best. I knew my fate was in the hands of someone, who if not quite mad, was certainly unbalanced, and I prayed for Harry to come and rescue me. Beyond a doubt, I was completely convinced that Sylvia Tate had been pushed, and I was even beginning to think her son had suffered the same fate. I smelled Geraint’s sour breath on my face, and I screwed up my eyes tighter than ever.

I don’t know how long I stood there quaking in my thin dress, but when I eventually opened my eyes he had gone. I listened and waited another five minutes before running down the corridor, finding the quickest way downstairs.

***

There was nobody in the breakfast room - I didn’t feel hungry, and the smell of bacon and eggs was making me feel nauseous. There were sounds coming from upstairs, and as the shouting grew louder I could hear Geraint’s voice distinctly, even if I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying. His voice rose and fell, and I sat there feeling very miserable, sure that he must be relating everything I’d done. He was probably telling Harry I was not to be trusted, and I shuddered when I thought of what he’d said to me, of what he suspected my motives were for being with Harry. I was so close to tears, but I longed to tell my side of the story, my fears about what had happened in the past, and the echoes I’d felt in what had almost happened to me.

There was silence for about ten minutes, and then Harry appeared in the doorway. He looked very pale and weary; I knew it had been his turn to stay up all night with his uncle.

‘Caroline, what the hell’s been going on? My uncle says you’ve been snooping about in my aunt’s room, and telling him lies, denying that you did it. Is this true?’

I felt my cheeks burn, and I nodded my head. ‘It is true; I don’t really know why I did it, except that I was curious to know more about her. There aren’t any photographs of her anywhere, and I couldn’t understand why. Elsa told me there was a portrait of your aunt, I was hoping to see it.’

‘I see. Unfortunately, it’s put my uncle in quite a rage. He is very upset … absolutely no one is allowed in those rooms, I thought it was quite clear. You’ve seen how he can be … we are worried he may relapse completely.’

‘But have you never asked yourselves why he’s so ill? Isn’t it obvious? He’s a raving lunatic,’ I shouted, feeling cross that I was being blamed for such irrational behaviour.

‘What are you suggesting, Caroline?’

‘Upstairs, just now, your uncle tried to push me out of one of the long windows, down onto the rocks.’

‘He pushed you?’

‘No, not exactly, though he came very close to it, I’m sure. I’ve never been so frightened. He was raging on about knowing I’d been down that passageway, and he backed me up against the open window. I’m sure he was re-enacting what happened with your aunt. Don’t you see? He pushed her over the side of the cliff … he must have murdered her. Why else would he be so racked with guilt and half mad?’

Even as I said the words, I knew I’d worked myself up to fever pitch, and now Harry was looking at me as if he’d never seen me before, almost as if he were observing me for the very first time.

‘And you’ve come to this conclusion based on the hard facts, I suppose,’ he said. ‘You know everything about this murder, as you call it, and all about my uncle’s illness, what you deem to be his insanity. I didn’t realise you were such an expert.’

The room felt suddenly chilled, and all the joy I’d known and felt the day before evaporated as quickly as the rain was drying up outside. I could only feel the sun beating on the back of my head as it shone through the window, but I didn’t feel warm. I felt I’d turned to ice.

‘I just think he must have done it, that’s all. Why are there no photographs or pictures of your aunt or your cousin anywhere?’

‘You had only to ask if you wanted the full facts. The case was a very simple one, and there were witnesses who saw that my aunt simply slipped, and fell to her death. My uncle has had to live with the fact that he could not save her or ultimately save his son, but whether that has promoted his illness to the extent it has, I couldn’t say. We do not expect him to live much longer … Elsa and I are here to make sure he lives his last days without too much upset. I made the decision last night not to go back to Bath just yet, and will stay and do whatever it takes to help him find the peace he craves.’

I was so mortified by everything I’d said that I couldn’t speak. I was very close to tears, not only because of what Harry had said, but I was very sorry I’d been so unfeeling, so quick to judge. I couldn’t think what had come over me. When I said I thought it would be better if I left, that I would leave immediately, Harry didn’t answer. He stood at the window looking out to sea with a stillness I couldn’t bear to see, so I just got up and left the room.

I knew nothing I could say would make any difference. I’d said the words, they had rung out loud and clear, but how I wished I could unsay them. I packed, blinded by my tears that refused to stop, and when I was ready I took my case downstairs to the hall where I found the phone book and rang for a taxi. I knew it would be twenty minutes or more before it came, but I let myself out, and followed the path down to where the taxi had dropped me on my arrival. Nobody from the castle came after me, but I knew they wouldn’t, and in my heart, I was sure they were glad to see me go. I could hardly bear to think of them, and what they must be saying about me as they tried to placate Geraint and calm him down. I didn’t want to think about the fact that I’d probably set him back and could only pray he wouldn’t suffer a relapse.

***

I don’t remember much about the journey home to Hampshire. I just managed to scrape the fare together, but I had to change trains three times, catching the slowest ones that seemed to prolong the agony and make everything feel ten times worse. Not that it could have been any less awful. I just kept seeing the expression on Harry’s face as I accused his uncle of heinous crimes. He’d been so hurt, as if I’d accused him of murder by association, and I knew his face and his words would haunt me forever afterwards.

I think my mother guessed something had happened. She wasn’t expecting me a day early, and I think anyone could see I was upset, but she didn’t say anything, just took me in her arms to hug me tight, which made me really sob. I knew she wouldn’t press me with questions until I was ready to talk to her, but I felt so ashamed of myself I didn’t know when that would be.