Lady of Hay (79 page)

Tim climbed to his feet. “You’re on,” he said. “Chinese or what?” He pulled open the door and stepped back abruptly as Sam thrust his way past him into the room.

Judy jumped to her feet at the sight of him.

“Sam?” Her voice was frightened. “What are you doing here?”

Sam had stopped dead as the door swung back against the wall. He looked swiftly from Judy to Tim and back, then he smiled. “So.” He took a deep breath. “You two?”

“Get out, Sam.” Judy put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, but get out. Do you hear me? If you don’t, I’ll call the police again!” Her voice was unnaturally shrill. “You are not welcome in my studio.”

“Come on, Sam.” Tim took a step toward him. “You heard what Judy said. Just leave quietly, there’s a good fellow.”

Sam laughed. “There’s a good fellow,” he mimicked mockingly. “Oh, no, my friend, not this time. This time I think we have some scores to settle, some scores that go back a very long way.” As he stepped menacingly toward Tim, Judy turned and dived into the bedroom. She grabbed the phone, but Sam was immediately behind her and with a quick jerk he had torn the wire from the wall.

“No more police, Judith, my dear,” he breathed. “I think we can manage very well without them this time.”

Judy went white. “You’re crazy, Sam,” she shouted. “Crazy!”

Behind Sam, Tim had appeared in the doorway, and for a moment none of them moved. Then Sam threw down the end of the wire. “It was you I came to see, Judith. I seem to remember we had an unfinished piece of business to settle. Each time I leave Joanna I have this urge to come here, it seems. To visit another whore. All women are whores. Even my mother, or she would never have had another child. A whore to my father!” He took a deep breath, controlling himself with an effort. “You should be flattered that I share my brother’s taste in beautiful women. As you do, of course.” He turned to Tim. “I’m almost glad you are here, so I can deal with you once and for all. My wife’s eldest daughter, remember…?” His eyes were suddenly blazing with emotion.

Judy backed away from them as Tim eyed him warily. “Forget it, Sam,” Tim said coldly. “Forget it. It’s all in your imagination.”

“Is it?” Sam took another step toward him. “Joanna doesn’t think so.” He laughed.

“If you’ve been near Jo again—” Tim suddenly squared his shoulders. Though of much lighter build than Sam, he topped him by several inches. “If you’ve touched her, I’ll kill you, so help me God!”

“Of course I’ve touched her.” Sam sneered. “Did you think I would leave her alone? She admitted everything, you know. How she had cheated me. How she slept with you. I beat her for it, did she tell you? And if I beat her, what more should I do to the lousy bastard who seduced her!” He was only feet from Tim now.

Tim backed away hastily. “Sam, for God’s sake, calm down. Let’s talk about this.”

“Not this time. I sat back and let it happen long ago. I pretended I didn’t know. I watched people snigger and laugh behind their hands and call me cuckold. I could do nothing about her fornication with the king, but you—you are a different matter. I was never entirely sure. She was too clever for me in the past, but now things are different. Now I am in control. And now I know the truth.” He picked up the brass candlestick from the low chest near him and held it up menacingly. “You are going to pay for what you did, de Clare!”

“No!” Judy screamed as he lifted his arm.

Tim, his face white, dodged back toward the bedroom doorway. As he did so his foot caught on the Persian rug that covered the polished boards. He staggered for a moment, then he slid sideways, crashing against the edge of the door.

Sam laughed. “Now I have you, de Clare! On your knees like your paramour!” He raised the candlestick high above his head as Judy launched herself at him, catching his arm. As they wrestled for a moment Tim slipped slowly onto his hands and knees, then on down to the floor. There was an ugly bleeding gash from the door latch on his temple.

Abruptly Sam let his arm fall. He stood staring down at Tim.

“Tim?” Judy threw herself down on her knees beside him. “Tim, are you all right?” She raised a white face toward Sam. “He’s unconscious.”

For a moment Sam did not move, then almost reluctantly he squatted down beside Tim and felt below his ear for his pulse. Judy held her breath. She felt very sick.

“He’s okay,” Sam said at last. His voice was calm again. “But you’d better call an ambulance in case.” He stood up. “I’m sorry. I lost my temper.”

Judy backed away from him. “You lousy shit!” Her eyes were blazing. “Get out of here, Sam! Get out, or I swear I’ll see you go to prison for the rest of your life. You should be in a straitjacket!”

She ran to the bed and grabbed the phone, then with a sob she flung it down. “I’ll have to go and call from the apartment downstairs. Shall I put a pillow under his head?”

“No, don’t touch him.” Sam was still standing looking down at Tim’s inert body. After a moment he pulled a blanket off the bed and tucked it around him, then he looked at Judy. “You’d better phone quickly,” he said.

***

Music echoed out of the open windows in Berkeley Street as the party warmed up. Jane was sitting on Jim Greerson’s lap when the phone rang and for a while neither bothered about it. Then finally Jane leaned forward and picked up the receiver.

“Nick?” she called. “Anyone here seen the boss man? There’s a guy here on the end of the line says it’s an emergency.”

Nick materialized at last, a glass of champagne in his hand. He was grinning. “A phone call at this hour? It’s probably a complaint.” He pulled himself onto the desk. “Hello?”

On the other end of the line the voice of Judy’s downstairs neighbor launched into an excited and apologetic monologue. For a moment Nick listened, puzzled, then abruptly he stood up. “An accident, you said? Who’s hurt?”

“I don’t know,” the unknown voice at the other end was out of breath. “A very nice gentleman, very tall. He hit his head. Miss Curzon went with him. They took him to St. Stephen’s…”

***

Judy was sitting alone in the dimly lit hospital waiting area. Her eyes were red with crying.

“What happened?” Nick put his arms around her and held her close.

She shook her head and sniffed. “They think he’s cracked his skull. They’ve taken him up to the operating room.”

“Who?” He pushed her away from him so he could see her face. “Who is hurt, Judy?”

“Tim. It’s Tim Heacham!”

“Tim?” Nick stood quite still for a moment. “But for God’s sake, what happened?”

“He came over to take some photos of my paintings and your brother arrived. He threatened Tim, and…” She began to sob again.

“Sam hit him?” Nick sat down abruptly next to her.

“No.” She sniffed hard and groped in the pocket of her jeans for a soggy tissue. “No, he tried to and Tim dodged. He slipped on my stupid rug. Oh, Nick! Supposing he dies!”

“What were they fighting about?”

“Sam called him de Clare. I think they were fighting about Jo. He talked about his daughter.”

Nick’s lips tightened imperceptibly. “My brother really is insane,” he said at last. He rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. “God, what a mess! Where is he? Did he come to the hospital?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know where he went.”

They both looked up as a young fair-haired woman in a white coat appeared. She carried a clipboard.

She sat down beside them with a tired smile. “I understand you came in with Mr. Heacham?”

Judy nodded. “How is he?”

The young woman shrugged. “He’s still in the operating room. We’ll know more later. I wondered if you could give me details of his next of kin?”

Judy clutched at Nick’s hand. “He’s dying?”

“No, no. It’s normal procedure. We have to try to contact his family.”

They looked at each other. “I know nothing about his family,” Nick said slowly. “I’m sorry. We’re just friends of his.”

“I see.” She slipped her pen back into the pocket of her coat. “You don’t know his wife?”

“He has no wife,” Judy said softly.

The young woman frowned. “He was conscious for a few minutes upstairs before he went into surgery. He was talking about his daughter. Matilda, was it? Perhaps if we could find her?”

Nick stood up. His face was very tense. “He has no daughter either,” he said.

As the woman disappeared through the swinging doors Nick turned on Judy. “Aren’t you going to rush to the phone and call Leveson? I should imagine this will make a juicy headline!”

Judy colored. “Of course I’m not.” She sat slumped in her chair. “How long do you think the operation will take?”

Nick shrugged. “I suppose I should call Bet Gunning. She knows Tim best. She must know where his family is.” He glanced at his watch.

“Jo might know,” Judy said softly. “I wonder if Sam’s gone back there? He said he had come from her apartment. Nick?”

Nick had stood up. His face was white. “Are you sure?” Already he was striding toward the door. “You stay here, Judy.” It was all he said, then he was gone.

Judy subsided onto the chair and began to sob again. It was midnight.

***

“Jo? Jo, can you hear me?” Nick crouched beside her and took her hand in his. It was ice-cold. She was staring unblinkingly at the blank TV screen. Automatically Nick reached to switch it off, then he passed his hand up and down in front of Jo’s eyes. Her eyelids did not move. He felt cautiously for her pulse. It was there, very slow and unsteady.

“Jo? Jo, love, listen to me! You must listen. Please.” He chafed her hands vigorously in turn. “Jo, I need you. For God’s sake, my love.” He took a deep breath. “Jo, I am going to count backward from ten. When I reach one, you will awaken, do you hear me?” His voice was shaking badly. Gently he pushed her back against the cushions. He touched her forehead. Her skin was strangely cold. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.” He caught her wrists. “Wake up, now. Wake up!”

She did not move. She still had not blinked. Nick looked around wildly, then he leapt to his feet. Jo’s address book was lying by the telephone. He ran his finger down the second page and found the number he was seeking: Bennet, C. Office—home/town—home/country. Praying, Nick dialed the second number.

The phone was answered by the sleepy voice of Mrs. Bennet. It was only four seconds before her husband was on the line.

He listened to Nick intently. “It sounds like a catatonic trance,” he said almost to himself. “I’ll come straight over. Don’t try to wake her, Nicholas. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes. If she seems cold wrap her up warm, then get yourself a drink. I’m on my way.”

Nick glanced at his watch. It was one-fifteen. Grimly he found two blankets in the closet and tenderly he folded them around her, then he went into the kitchen and put on the kettle. It was nearly two before the doorbell rang.

Bennet crossed the room in two strides. Gently he pulled the blankets away from Jo’s face. “How long has she been like this?”

Nick shrugged. “Maybe since my brother left her, I guess about nine or ten.”

“He put her in this trance?” Bennet scrutinized Nick’s face.

“I suspect so,” Nick said grimly. “But we both know she’s capable of doing it herself. I thought she was beginning to learn to fight it, but maybe she couldn’t manage it when she was alone. Is she going to be all right?” He knelt beside her and took her hand.

Bennet smiled. “I think so. She is showing signs of eye movement—see? I think she’s coming out of it naturally.” He sat down next to Jo and, putting his hands on her shoulders, pulled her gently to face him. “That’s it, now, Lady Matilda, can you hear me? That’s right, you recognize my voice. You can speak to me without fear, my dear, you know that. You are tired now, are you not? And very cold. I think it would be nice if you woke up, my dear. You are going to wake up slowly—”

He broke off as Jo jerked backward in his hands. Her eyes had lost their vague unseeing stillness and were focusing past him on Nick’s face.

Nick stood up, smiling with relief. “Jo, thank God—”

But she had torn herself out of Bennet’s hands and pulled herself shakily to her feet.

“Please,” she said wildly. “Please, give me more time. I have the money. I told you, it is hidden in the hills above Hay. Please, give me more time. Please.” Tears were pouring down her cheeks. “William will come back. He promised. He will come back, if not for me, then for our son. Please, Your Grace, please—” She threw herself on her knees in front of Nick. “Please, punish me if you must, but not my son. Not Will!” She was sobbing violently. “Take me. Do what you wish with me, but spare my son! He has done nothing. It is my fault. It is all my fault!” She looked up, her hair, trailing across her eyes, wet with tears. “You loved me once, Your Grace. Can your love have turned so completely to hatred?”

Bennet caught her shoulders gently. “Come, my dear. This will do no good—”

“
No!
” Her voice rose to a scream. “I will not go! You must listen. My liege! My lord king. Please, spare me—”