Page 141

‘Then let me make it clear.’

The tenor of Rowena’s voice has lowered into something dangerous. She twists the knife. The blood that has blossomed at Linette’s throat runs down her neck in a crimson trail that starts to soak into the collar of her nightgown.

‘My mother was one of the women Cadwalladr’s Hellfire club seduced. He promised her a great deal of money to play a willing part. But he lied, and Emyr wanted rid of her after the Order had their fun. Ours, you see, was one of the families that lived on Plas Helyg’s lands.’ Rowena looks at him across the blade. ‘You remember, don’t you, the ruins we saw that day in the valley?’

Henry pictures them, the roofless dilapidated cottages, their crumbling walls.

‘I remember.’

‘There,’ she says. ‘We lived there. I was not born then, but my father never let us forget our history. My parents, together with my brothers and sisters, were forced out into penury. No provision was made for us – your grandfather simply sold the land to pay his debts and didn’t give a damn what happened to those left homeless.’ Her grip slackens on the knife before it tightens once more. ‘They had nowhere to go. My siblings died one by one either from cold or starvation or from the beatings – and my father, being such a hot-blooded man, made sure to replace them. He used my mother like a breeding mare, and she – who I remember as such a weak pathetic woman – had no spirit to stop him.

‘Eventually my parents found their way to the marches and to charity, such as it was. A hovel in a town which cared little who we were or what we’d been, only whether we could pay the board. And each year there was another child and each year one died, and each year my father beat my mother until her will simply gave out. She hanged herself from the rafters in their bedroom while my father was out drinking. It was me who found her.’

Something clouds in Rowena’s face before it clears again.

‘On my mother’s death it was up to me to find work; I became an apothecary’s apprentice, learnt my poisons young. But it did not matter, it made no difference, for nothing really changed and every day – every single day – my father would speak of wicked Emyr Cadwalladr who robbed him of his livelihood and used his wife like a whore. How it was Cadwalladr’s fault he beat his children, how it was Cadwalladr’s fault he raped his wife. That it was Cadwalladr’s fault he did the same to me.’

Henry watches her, the pity in his chest ripe and painful. He wants to cry for her. But Rowena … Rowena sheds no tears. Her eyes are dry as bone.

‘It was also Cadwalladr’s fault I was driven to poison my father. I’d learnt my trade well, knew exactly what to give dear old Pa that would not arouse suspicion. Later it was said he drank himself to death for he always did like his liquor, liked it enough to favour it above the rent.’ She pauses, lost it seems in memory. ‘And for a while I was free of him. For a while I managed to get along. But then I met Julian. Can you understand what it was I felt when he told me who he was? Can you?’

‘I’m so sorry, Rowena. I am sorry for it all.’

‘Sorry means nothing,’ she spits. ‘It changes nothing.’

‘I know,’ Henry says. ‘But I’m sorry all the same.’

There is a space of silence between them. Henry can see Linette’s pulse pounding in her neck. The blade is pressed against her jugular vein, he realises.

If only he could reach the knife!

‘What happened then?’

Rowena regards him a moment. ‘I knew Julian was a man of ambition, he made no secret of that. I knew he had a scheme of some sort. So I took a risk. I told him about myself: where I was from, how I’d lived, what I had been forced to do. I told him I wanted revenge. I wanted the Cadwalladrs dead, every single one of them.’

Again she twists the knife.

‘This pleased him. It excited him. He asked me about my knowledge of herbs. I said I knew every plant and what each was capable of, good and bad. He asked me to concoct something that would turn the sanest woman mad without killing her. A test, he said. So I did what he asked, tried it out on the landowner’s wife, to spectacular effect.’

Henry risks a step closer. ‘And then?’

‘He told me what he planned. How one day the heir of Plas Helyg would be found and that he and his sister would die. He’d make it look as though their mother – in her madness – had done it. After that, Gwen too could die at the hands of the decrepit housekeeper. An extra dose of deadly nightshade to tip her over the edge.’ Rowena sneers. ‘The old lady had been drugging her mistress for years, after all, no one could deny it. She’d find herself at the gallows before the month was out.’

A cry of anger rips from Linette’s throat, and she squirms in Rowena’s unforgiving hold.

‘Linette, don’t!’ Henry warns, and Rowena twists the arm she holds behind Linette’s back, presses the point of the dagger into her neck until she stills. Linette looks at Henry, eyes large and pleading.

‘Rowena,’ he tries, ‘stop. Please. You don’t have to do this.’

A warm breeze cuts through the clearing, making her red curls dance. Was it really only a few hours ago he had buried his fingers in them?

‘After their deaths,’ Rowena says, as if she had never been interrupted, ‘Plas Helyg would be Julian’s in its entirety. The last of the Cadwalladrs, gone. And I said I would give him everything he wanted, I would do everything he asked of me just as long as I could be witness to it when the time came. So he brought me back here.’

‘What of the Order?’

She shrugs. ‘A means to an end. They thought they owed their wealth to their silly little club.’ She scoffs. ‘I never believed in Berith, but I had no way of gaining access to you if I did not participate. I played my part. And then, Henry, when you finally arrived, all I had to do was make you trust me. Make you both trust me. When you came to me that day in the cottage, you put me on the spot; I had no choice but to tell you the truth. But when I told Julian what you were about he thought it was funny. There you both were, believing you were solving crimes together, while we simply bided our time until the solstice. We knew you could never find any real proof. All I had to do was lead you to the temple when the time came.’ Rowena’s face darkens. ‘But everything went wrong, didn’t it? The wrong people are dead. And my revenge is not yet complete.’

Again, Linette strains against the blade.