Suddenly, it became clear. A woman, struggling with her skirts, was trying to climb up onto the battlements.

“Fenton!” Fanny gasped, gripping his forearm in alarm, and waving in the direction of this terrible sight. “Fenton! It’s a woman. Up there! Quickly! You must go to her! I think she’s going to jump!”

Fanny felt him leave her side while her gaze remained fixed on the woman. A tall, resolute figure, she balanced precariously on the very edge with a death’s leap to the cobbles below.

It was impossible to identify her, but as her hair blew about her face and her skirts whipped around her ankles, she remained impassive, like a statue—or a woman trying to summon the courage to do that most awful of actions and step into space to end her life.

Fanny didn’t know if she should call out, or if that would frighten the woman and precipitate what they were trying to prevent. She cast about for help and inspiration.

A quick calculation of the distance and difficulty Fenton would encounter in reaching the crumbling top storey of the castle was not encouraging. Fenton had a battle on his hands if he were to reach her in time to drag her back to safety, for the woman had settled herself into position and was now balanced precariously, dislodging some of the stonework as she raised her face to the sky.

Fanny decided she had to make a connection first. Picking up her skirts, she crossed the moss-covered, slippery courtyard towards the first flight of uneven slippery stairs. Her ankle turned, and she seized an overhanging tree branch to regain her balance, dislodging an owl that rose into the night sky with a flurry of wings and a mournful cry.

When she was close enough to be heard, she stood where she could be seen and called out, “Miss! Are you all right? Please…don’t jump!”

The woman moved slightly. It was a gesture that suggested a ratcheting up of determination, however she stopped when she heard Fanny’s voice.

Turning towards her, with her face half in shadow, she shook her head, mute, as if she knew not what she was doing.

Still, she made no attempt to climb back down to safety.

“We’re here to help you.” Fanny tried again, casting about for Fenton and realising with dismay that his attempts to reach the young woman had been thwarted. For, having chosen what appeared to be the most direct way, she could now see that part of the stairway had collapsed. She nodded to him, silently acknowledging his presence, and flicked a glance towards another fully intact staircase that approached from the west.

“Please stop, madam!” Fanny tried again, projecting her voice towards the woman. “Whatever has happened cannot be so terrible you’d want to do this.”

The woman brushed aside an errant strand of hair from her narrow, plain face and Fanny got her first proper glimpse of her, though she did not look at Fanny directly. “I have no choice.” Fanny struggled to hear her voice which drifted down to her in a thin thread of barely contained misery, as she went on, “There’s only shame for me on this earth.”

“But…there’s always the future. And that offers hope.” Fanny had never been at such a loss. Her words felt inadequate. The despair of the young woman seemed greater than any hope Fanny could offer her. “It’s Lady Conroy, isn’t it? Susan. Yes, of course. Mrs Hodge’s daughter. How could I not have known? It’s very dark but…you look so lovely in your gown of silver lutestring. Your mother…was saying only this evening how proud of you she was. Think how distraught she’d be.”

Fanny tried to think if Lady Conroy had children. If she could identify loved ones it might help.

“My mother would never have said such a thing.” The scorn in Susan’s tone was excoriating. “Proud?” Her voice grew in strength and volume. “She nearly died of shame when I almost ruined the family five years ago. All her efforts since then have been towards hushing that up. And now it’s about to be made public. My mother has never been proud of me.”

“Your husband, then. No, please think of how distraught your husband would be if you went ahead with this.” Fanny could see her words were having little effect. And Fenton was nowhere to be seen. Her mouth felt dry. If only she could reach Susan, herself.

“My husband?” Lady Conroy shifted as she threw up her hands, nearly missing her step but—Fanny was relieved to note—put a steadying palm onto the crumbling battlement so she could add, “Dear lord, he’d be over the moon with joy. Once he’d overcome the shame.”

“Shame? I’m sure you’re dwelling too much on what’s not important. Nothing is so important as to end your life over...” Fanny racked her brains over what might be so shameful and painful that this young woman would consider ending her life. And then she remembered that Sir Richard and Lady Conroy, who’d been married five years, were childless.

“Please, Lady Conroy, if it’s what I think it is—that you have no children—you must know that the husband is just as much to blame.”

Fanny could see confusion cross Lady Conroy’s face. Had she perhaps come to completely the wrong conclusion? She tried again. “Your childlessness could well be your husband’s fault. Not yours. Many fine marriages are childless.”

To Fanny’s shock and horror, Lady Conroy gave a bloodcurdling shriek of laughter. “My, but that is rich! Right now, my husband believes without a shadow of a doubt that I am to blame for our lack of children. But he’ll soon learn the truth. That I am indeed capable. He’ll soon learn of my shame.” She put her hands to her face and rocked perilously. “Unless Lizzy marries Harry Dalgleish, that is.”

Fanny felt the rough stone wall behind her as she stepped backwards in shock. What did Lizzy and Harry Dalgleish have to do with Lady Conroy and her woes? The woman had lost her mind. “I don’t know what you mean, Lady Conroy. Tell me! I can help you! Believe me, I have been where you are. I have suffered the greatest shame.” She needed to reassure her that a besmirched reputation could be survived. “You may even recall the scandal I endured for I married the year you did. And my reputation survived. Yours will, too! Tell me what it is you have done, and I’ll help you, Lady Conroy!” She summoned inspiration, then asked, “What do Lizzy and Mr Dalgleish have to do with this?”

She heard

Lady Conroy’s heavy breathing. Her struggle to speak once more, and then the hysterical note in her voice as she replied, “Everything and nothing! But tonight, I learned from my mother that unless Lizzy marries Mr Dalgleish, he’s going to tell the world about the child I had out of wedlock just months before I married Sir Richard.” She began to weep now, cupping her face with her hands as her distress manifested itself in distraught gulps. “My marriage is hard enough to bear as it is; do you imagine how intolerable it’s going to be after that becomes public?” The truth of this seemed to strengthen her resolve for suddenly she dropped her hands, straightened her shoulders, and put her palms against her skirts.

Alarm surged through Fanny, prompting her to say the first thing she now intuited was the most likely to stop Lady Conroy from stepping out into her last fatal drop.

“But it is all but assured that Lizzy and Mr Dalgleish will marry. Why, Lizzy is with him now, and I do believe he’s proposing this very moment.”

Lady Conroy shook her head. “Lizzy is in love with Mr McAlister. She shouldn’t marry where her heart is not engaged, but this afternoon I learned that my mother is forcing her. Just as she forced me to marry Sir Richard.” Her breath hitched before she went on, “Dear lord, I didn’t even know my child still lived until several hours ago when my mother told me…everything. It is too much. I can’t live with the knowledge that my crime will not only ensure that my own life is intolerable, but that Lizzy’s is too.” Lady Conroy sniffed, wiping her hand across her face before glaring across at Fanny.

Fanny darted a quick look behind her to check on Fenton’s progress. He’d had to circumnavigate the castle, half descending into the marshy moat in order to reach the staircase from the other side. Now, to her relief, she saw that he was on the bottom step of the worn stone steps that led to Lady Conroy.

Tags: Beverley Oakley Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net