Chapter Twenty-Nine
Teg left Laura at the cottage gate. Cilla watched him walk away. “Nathaniel is taking no chances with you, I see. We’ll finish today. I’m very pleased with your portrait; I believe it’s one of my best.”
“That’s wonderful.” Laura couldn’t wait to see it, but she would wait until Cilla was ready to show her. Her mood seemed to have improved since yesterday, and Laura didn’t want to stir the waters. She settled into her chair. “How long will you be away?”
Busy with her paints, Cilla frowned. “I don’t intend to return to Wolfram.”
“Never?”
Cilla blended blue and green with a dab of yellow paint on her palette. “My time here is over. After the exhibition, I’m returning to France.”
Laura didn’t feel as sorry as she’d thought she would at the news. Cilla’s mercurial moods made friendship difficult. “Paris seems the perfect place for you to work.”
“And live the kind of life I choose without being frowned upon and treated like a leper.” She shrugged. “I’m confident I can put my sad past there behind me. Write a new chapter.”
How difficult it must be for Cilla. “You may meet someone who you could love, who will love you.”
Cilla halted, brush in the air; she gazed out the window at the scudding clouds. “I don’t believe in love.”
“You had a lover in Paris once, did you not? Might you rekindle that relationship?”
Cilla began to paint wild brush strokes onto the canvas. “She died.” Her voice sounded oddly implacable.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” Cilla gazed at her with raised brows. “You would find my problems difficult to understand.”
“I do hope you’ll find happiness, Cilla.” Laura flushed, fearing they were about to enter dangerous territory again. She shifted on her chair, wanting this over so she could return to the abbey.
Cilla became quiet as she worked steadily.
Half an hour passed and Laura found it increasingly difficult to keep still. Cilla wiped her brush. “It’s finished.”
“It is?” Laura could hardly contain her eagerness and jumped up. “May I see it?”
Cilla stepped back. “Yes. It just needs varnish.”
Laura studied it. She understood in a flash how Cilla’s moods played out on the canvas. The calm, settled look in the eyes of her subject contrasted greatly with the wildness of the background. She’d placed Laura beneath the loggia in her green gown. Behind her, the cliff seemed fearfully close. She might be about to step off into space. Gulls wheeled across an unsettled sky with thunderclouds gathering over the horizon. There were slashes of violent, thick paint on the background, which might have been done by a different artist from the one who painted Laura so exquisitely: the pearl combs in her burnished hair, her soft, creamy skin tones, the delicate lacework on her collar and cuffs and the coral necklace.
Laura could not hang this work above the fireplace. Not where they would see it every day. It was an extraordinary painting, but it was also disturbing.
“It’s a very fine work,” Laura said soberly. “You are a talented artist, Cilla.”
Cilla unscrewed the lid on a bottle of varnish and painted a section. “I’ll have to wait until the paint dries before I apply the rest of the varnish. You think it a good likeness?”
“It’s clever; I do see something of myself here.”
“I’m rather proud of how well the eyes turned out.”
Laura bent closer. “Are my eyes really so green?”
“I would hardly embellish them. You must know they are.”
It was like an accusation. Laura straightened. The painting repelled her and made her feel ungrateful. “You’ve flattered me, Cilla, thank you.”
“I merely paint what I see.”
Laura watched Cilla clean her brushes. She studied the painting again. Rendered in oils, Laura sat, hands folded, while chaos appeared to rage around her. It was in the threatening sky, the wild trees and the turbulent sea. She was like the calm center of a storm. Laura took a deep breath. She supposed that was how Cilla saw Laura’s life.
Cilla screwed the lid back on the bottle. She glanced out the window. “It looks like rain.”
“I’d best get the dogs back to the stables. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”
“I’ll lend you one.” Cilla went to a cupboard and opened the door. She reached in and pulled out a mannish black umbrella.
Laura saw a flash of blue. She peered closer, then grabbed onto the sofa back as her legs wobbled. A pastel-blue parasol stood in a corner of the cupboard. A dainty thing, so unlike anything Cilla would have bought for herself. It had a pearl handle exactly like the one in Amanda’s painting. Laura exhaled a ragged, sharp breath as she recalled the smell in Amanda’s room, the memory of which had been gnawing at her. It was the smell of varnish.
Cilla swung around, eyes wide. “You are far too sharp, Laura. You shouldn’t meddle.”
Laura stepped back. “That can’t be Amanda’s.”
Reaching into the cupboard, Cilla took the parasol out. She twirled it in her hand. “Pretty thing.” She opened and closed it. “Oh, I shouldn’t have done that.” She laughed. “It means bad luck, doesn’t it?”
Not wanting to believe what she feared, Laura swallowed a knot of dread. “You found it?”
“I’ve always had it.”
“Then why say it was lost in the sea?”
Cilla dropped the umbrella and went to the table that held her paints. “Now, why do you think?”
Laura’s voice sounded raspy to her ears. “You killed her?” She couldn’t take it in. “You killed Amanda? I thought you loved her.”
Cilla turned, her hazel eyes stony. “You’ve never loved anyone to the point of madness?”
“I love Nathaniel. I would die for him.”
“But if he made love to another woman, would you want to kill him?”
“No.” Laura tried to breathe, the air stagnant like heat in her lungs. Her head spun, and she grew fearful she might faint. “I could never kill a living soul.”
“Passionless!” Cilla’s gaze darted around the room.
Laura wanted to bolt from the cottage; she seemed rooted to the spot as she leaned back against the sofa, clutching the rough fabric in her curled fingers. “But why, Cilla?”
“You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to love and hate in equal measure.” Cilla shrugged. “When I told Amanda I loved her, she laughed at me. The way we once laughed at Mallory and Rudge and her other conquests. While I enjoyed participating in her games, I did not like being the subject of them.”
“What games?”
“She tested every man she met and had no respect for any of them. When Nathaniel was away in London, she slept with both Rudge and Mallory. She used to compare them. She was out of control. The only man she respected was Nathaniel. She never spoke badly of him. Perhaps she knew I wouldn’t have been party to it.”
“She must have loved Nathaniel.”
“She never loved anyone,” Cilla spat. “But Nathaniel is one of the few I trust. I did him a favor killing Amanda. But he cares for you, and I regret hurting him.” Cilla shook her head at Laura as if she was a child who couldn’t learn her lesson. “I told you, Amanda was incapable of love. But she knew on which side her bread was buttered. Nathaniel wanted a child, so she was prepared to oblige him. And she didn’t care whose it was.”
Laura edged toward the door where the dogs waited.
“No, you don’t!” Cilla leapt forward and grabbed Laura’s hair, twisting her fingers in it, scattering combs.
“Let go of me!” Laura winced and tried to pull away. With horror, she saw the small knife Cilla held. She must have snatched it from her paint box. Laura felt the sharp edge at her throat and stilled in fear.
“I’m sorry, Laura. I really like you, but I can’t let you live to tell your little tale. You are going to disappear in the same way your predecessor did, my dear. A tidy end, I feel.”
Laura’s throat blocked. She swallowed desperately. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. “Let me go. They’ll know it was you. Leave Cornwall. I’ll say nothing. You can get away.”
Cilla hissed in her ear. “Out the back door. I could slit your throat, but it would make a terrible mess, which I won’t be able to explain away.”
Laura’s blood turned to ice. Her fight to stay alive in the sea had weakened her more than she realized. Robbed of her usual strength, Cilla’s grip felt like a strong man’s. Laura wished she could think, but fear for her baby clouded her mind. Nathaniel! He couldn’t go through this again.
“How did Amanda die?” Desperate, Laura tried to distract Cilla as she propelled Laura out the back door of the cottage.
“I asked her to pose nude for me after the baby came.” Cilla drew in a sharp breath and tightened her grip on Laura. “She sneered at me. Told me I was lewd. That I fancied women because no man wanted me.” She made a guttural sound low in her throat. “I walked with Amanda to the end of the lane; it was almost dusk. She remembered she’d forgotten her parasol, and because she tired easily, I told her to walk on, while I went to fetch it. I was halfway home when I realized both of us couldn’t remain at Wolfram. She didn’t deserve to live; she had so little regard for me. I stalked her from behind the trees until she walked by the cliff.”
Cilla looked at Laura blindly, as if she gazed inward. “She rubbed the small of her back as she stared out to sea.”
The tender image of a pregnant woman filled Laura with compassion. Fear for her own baby tore at her heart. “If you tell me she stumbled and fell, we’ll say no more about it!”
“Nice try, Laura. Do you think I’m stupid?” Cilla held Laura’s long hair in a brutal grip, while she stroked the edge of the knife over Laura’s throat, as if it was Amanda’s throat laid bare. “Killing her was easy after Simone.”
Her hair felt as if it was being ripped from her skull. Laura bit down on a scream and forced herself to sound calm. “Simone?”
“My French lover. She fell to her death down a flight of stairs.”
“You killed her too?” Laura’s voice choked over the words.
“Simone deserved it.” Cilla sounded unmoved by her devastating pronouncement.
Laura had to keep Cilla talking. “Why?”
“She cheated on me with a man.”
“Let me go, Cilla. We can talk about this.”
Cilla merely tugged harder and dragged Laura off her feet. They moved beneath the loggia. With the sharp edge of the knife nudging her throat, Laura was afraid to fight her. “It was you in Amanda’s bedchamber,” she gasped. “Dressed as a man.”
“Amanda often invited me to her room in the early days. She gave me a key and showed me the secret passage. I wore a man’s clothes then too. Amanda thought it was amusing.”
“Where is the secret passage?”
“Has Nathaniel not shown you?” She clucked her tongue. “It lies behind the large tapestry in the upper corridor near your bedchamber. Steps lead down to one of the storerooms near the sea door. When Nathaniel was away, I slipped inside often. I couldn’t stay away even after all her things were gone.”
“Those coral beads were hers.”
“She owed me.” Cilla pushed Laura along the path toward the cliff edge. “I doubted anyone would notice a small thing of little value. But you’re smart, Laura. Too smart for your own good.”
“You wanted something to remember Amanda by. Once she was dead, you had nothing.”
Cilla growled like a wounded animal. “Shut up.”
“You tried to drown me.”
“I didn’t plan to kill you,” Cilla said, her matter-of-fact tone oddly pitiless. “But you saw me in Amanda’s bedchamber.”
“It was dark. I didn’t know it was you.”
“No. When no one came to accuse me after you turned up safe and sound, I knew I was in the clear. You fool! I was going away. I wouldn’t have tried to hurt you again. But now I must.” She dug the knife in, and a sharp pain stung Laura’s throat. Warm blood trickled down her neck beneath her collar. “How did you survive the sea? You told me you couldn’t swim. I was amazed.”
Laura swallowed. “The tide washed me onto the causeway.”
“The tide won’t help you this time.”
“Cilla!” Laura cried. “You won’t get away with it. Nathaniel knows I’m here.”
“I’ll tell him it was an accident. Why would he suspect me? We are friends, and I have a perfect reason to leave Wolfram. I’ll be gone in a matter of days.”
The sheer drop was only a few feet away. It was now or never. The prick of the knife had brought Laura to life. Cilla would not be dissuaded. She was intent on carrying out her awful threat. At the prospect of a grim death like Amanda’s, Laura’s determination to stay alive hammered at her. She wanted her baby. She wanted her life with Nathaniel. What would become of him if he lost her too? She gathered the last of her strength and shoved away from Cilla. The effort brought Laura to her knees. Cilla bent over her and struggled to regain her grip.
“Orsino! Sebastian!” Laura yelled.
The dogs bounded around the corner of the cottage. Cilla laughed and shook her head. “Useless animals. Nathaniel chose them for their looks. As he chose his wives.”
Looming over Laura, she raised the bloody knife.
With a growl, Sebastian ran at Cilla. The dog leapt up and struck her on the chest. Cilla went reeling. Sebastian showed his teeth, ready to spring again.
“Get away, you stupid animal.” Cilla slashed at the dog but missed. The knife flew out of her hand and soared through the air. She stepped back, all her concentration focused on catching it.
Laura watched in horror as the grassy cliff edge gave way beneath Cilla’s feet. For one long moment, she teetered there, disbelief registering on her face, her hands grasping at air. Then with a shrill cry, she was gone.
“Oh my God,” Laura cried.
Sobbing, she touched the cut on her throat, her fingers coming away sticky. The dogs whined, unsettled by the smell of blood, and milled around her.
“Good dogs!”
Laura climbed shakily to her feet. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she edged as close as she dared. The white-crested waves pounded the base of the cliff and surged in a cloud of spray, eddying around the jagged rocks. She searched the deep green water for some sign of Cilla, but there was nothing. Worried that the dogs might get too close to the edge, she stumbled away, calling them to heel.
Laura stumbled from Cilla’s garden, as the pain at the back of her throat turned to racking sobs. Still disturbed, the dogs danced around her, tripping her up as she lurched along. She fought to compose herself and could only think of Nathaniel. She needed him to hold her close.
Fearing she would faint, it took her ages to reach the house. Nathaniel was with Rudge in his study. He looked up from his desk and paled. She put a hand to her throat and found it drenched with blood. Her collar was soaked.
Nathaniel shoved away from his chair and ran to her. “Rudge, get the doctor and send for the constable.”
She gazed into his grim face. “Cilla…”
“Don’t talk, Laura.” He pulled her into his arms.