candle down on the floor, my derringer beside it. I opened the lid to that
ancient wooden chest. On the very top lay a gold brocade gown of the last
century. It was yards and yards of very heavy material, so much of it. I couldn’t
imagine being able to stand upright it weighed so much. I lifted the gown out
and carefully laid it on the wooden floor.
Beneath it was a very old-fashioned nightgown of fine lawn sewn with the most
beautiful lace I’d ever seen. The lace was yellowed with age.
There were riding boots and slippers with the soles nearly worn through.
And on the very bottom of that wooden chest was a long tangled mass of white
hair.
Chapter Twenty-five
I jerked back. I stared at that horrible mess of tangled gray hair. I didn’t
shriek, but I wanted to. My heart nearly leapt into my throat. I recognized that
hair. The old woman had worn that hideous wig when she had come to my bedchamber
with John’s knife. I didn’t want to, but I reached out my hand and touched the
hair. It was coarse and thick. It was ancient, that wig. I shuddered as I lifted
it out of the chest.
Beneath it was the ugly white shapeless robe the old woman had worn. When I
lifted it out, I did cry out. A mask fell from between the folds of that ancient
robe, a hideous mask with holes for the eyes, and aged, crinkled skin. I had
wondered, but now I knew. Someone had worn this disguise to terrify me.
That person had certainly succeeded.
So, this was where the monster had hidden his props. In the room where Caroline
had come, then walked out on the stone balcony, climbed over the railing, and
thrown herself to her death.
Everyone had access to the tower room. It wasn’t locked. Anyone could have
stashed the disguise in the bottom of this chest.
I lifted everything except the disguise back into the chest and closed the lid.
I carefully laid the old woman’s clothes, the wig, and the mask over my arm, and
walked downstairs.
John wasn’t in his bedchamber. I went in and walked immediately over to where he
kept his knife collection in the corner of the room.
The knife was gone.
No, I thought, no. John had nothing to do with any of this. He couldn’t, just
couldn’t. Why? I asked myself. No one had a reason to harm me. The fact that
John didn’t have a reason, either, didn’t mean he was innocent of this. But I
simply wouldn’t accept that damning thought into my brain. I couldn’t, I didn’t
want to discuss with myself why I felt so strongly. No, John had simply put the
wretched knife elsewhere, to keep it from being taken again.
I carefully laid that dreadful wig, the old wrinkled robe, and the mask on the
counterpane. I turned to leave when he walked in. His head was down, and he was
rubbing the back of his neck. I must have made a noise because his head jerked
up. He stared at me, just stood there and stared at me. He cleared his throat. “May
I ask what you’re doing in my bedchamber?”
I saw the heat in his eyes from twenty paces. I took a quick step back. My legs
hit the side of the bed, and I sat down. I jumped up immediately.
I splayed my hands in front of me and felt like a fool. “I knocked, but you
weren’t here. The knife is gone again, John.”
“Boynton has it.”
“I found these things in that chest in the north tower room. I brought them here
to show you.”
“Why did you go up there?” he asked as he walked toward me and the bed.
“I was walking back from the stables, and I saw a candlelight coming from that
room. Someone was up there, walking about.”
He said nothing more, just stared down at the items I’d laid out on his bed.
He picked up the mask and pulled it tight over his fist. “Jesus, it’s terrifying.
I’m surprised you didn’t fall over with heart failure.”