by Charles Todd
With a grunt, the Constable nodded, and his men left the room.
I closed my door smartly but pressed my ear against it, because Maeve’s rooms were next.
They knocked at her door, and politely asked to inspect her rooms.
I heard her reply, “I am so sorry, gentlemen. I don’t feel well at all. I’m going back to my bed. Search as you like.”
The Constable said, “It won’t require more than a minute of your time.”
“I’m sure. But if I stand here a moment longer—” There was the sound of retching.
She must have fled to her bed, leaving them to themselves, because I heard the Constable say “Be quick about it” to his men.
They were. I heard her door close quietly and they moved on to knock at Niall’s door.
He had words with them. I couldn’t hear what was said, but they must have searched his room thoroughly as well.
I worried about Terrence. His arm had been bleeding, according to Maeve. Were there bloody cloths or clothing in his room?
I heard them knock, then knock a second time. There was some discussion, before they called to the room’s occupant that they were coming in.
No alarm went up. I breathed again.
When they had finished there, they went to the Major’s door, and afterward began with the unoccupied part of the house, opening and closing doors as they went.
Finally they must have either run out of places to search or been satisfied that there was no “escaped felon” hiding in the house—nor a missing Major—was that the person they were actually hunting for? I heard them noisily descending the stairs, making some remark about the stable block.
They hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes when there was a soft knock at my door. I expected it to be Maeve, and I stepped back to open it.
It was Terrence. His arms were full of bloody cloths and clothes, bundled into a blanket. His back and shoulders were covered with dust. I pulled him inside and shut the door quietly.
“Dear God—where were you?”
“In the back of the attics.”
“Didn’t they search there?”
“No, just the servants’ quarters. Can you do something about this arm?”
“Yes, of course. But what will you do with those things?”
“Take them out to sea in the currach and drop them. If anyone finds them, I hope they think the Major drowned.”
I’d left Eileen’s kit in Maeve’s room, and had to go fetch it.
She said, when I was inside, “Now I shan’t be able to eat Molly’s dinner. Or everyone will be suspicious. But it worked. They opened the cupboard, but they never looked under the bed.”
“I’ll slip something up to you. I’ve come for the medical kit.”
“Of course.”
I took it back to my room, and when Terrence had taken off his shirt, I cleaned and sewed up the wound in his arm. He took it well, grimacing as he asked how Simon and the Major had missed being caught. “There was nothing I could do—”
“Apparently your aunt managed quite well. I don’t know the whole of it, but they didn’t look under her bed. Or in it.”
He smiled. “My grandmother has always underestimated Aunt Maeve.”
I believed him. “I thought she might be—simple—when I first met her.”
“She didn’t know then if she would like you. Even to her, you’re the enemy.”
“And yet she took in the Major.”
“More to spite her mother-in-law than to help him, I expect.”
“There,” I said, cutting the thread, then reaching for what was left of the bandages. “I need more supplies. Can you manage that too?”
“I’ll find a way.”
He’d just put his shirt on and was buttoning it when I heard Mrs. Flynn start down to her delayed dinner.
Terrence waited, then went down the front stairs, leaving his bundle under my bed until dark.
Shortly afterward I heard a soft whistle, and when I went to the window, I saw him quickly disappearing around the far corner of the house. It was taking a terrible risk, for the Constable and his men were in the stable block and the outbuildings, still searching. I found myself wishing he’d stayed in the attics. That wound was still too fresh, and whoever had been there in the fort last night would remember using his knife.
I raided the pantry after everyone had finished in the kitchen and Molly had washed the dishes.
As I was trying to decide how much of the roast I could take upstairs without having the household start to wonder at Maeve’s sudden increase in appetite, I glanced out the tiny window. I could just see the stable block. Two men were coming from there and had stopped in the shadows of the arch. Apparently they had finished searching the outbuildings and were discussing their next stop.
The Major’s bloody rags and Terrence’s as well were under my bed.
Torn between guarding my door and needing to be certain where they were going next, I watched them converse, trying to gauge their mood. One was the Constable, and the other was one of the men who had searched my room.
Where was the other one? Had he been left to watch the horses or the house itself?
I frowned, trying to work it out. Just then the Constable turned, looking over his shoulder toward the stables, and a flash of memory came back to me.
I’d seen him before—but in the dark, only a silhouette talking to the tall man I’d called the singer, the violinist, from the pub, while Simon and I were hiding in the hawthorn clump.
And then he moved, and the similarity was lost. He was the familiar form of the Constable again.
Still, I was sure of what I’d seen. It literally opened my eyes.
All this time, when it appeared that he was enforcing the law as he saw it, he’d been one of the conspirators—he’d been a part of the circle of men who had taken Michael and then the Major.
I couldn’t prove it. And I was English, it would be my word against his. No one would believe me.
But I had to warn Terrence. And Simon.
While that man had been taking me up for the murder of Fergus Kennedy, and hunting the countryside for Simon, he himself might well have ordered the artist’s death. After all, he’d have been told that Fergus Kennedy had seen the boat setting out with an unconscious man aboard—Michael. His killers had even ransacked the studio for any sketch that might prove what had happened to the missing groom.
It explained so much of what had been happening. Two men who had served in the British Army had arrived for a wedding. And they must have become a target straightaway. An idea that had seemed impossible suddenly became possible. It explained why Padriac had arrived, the advance guard. Why Terrence was in their way, because this involved his own family, and he’d have wanted no part of it. And always, always, the Constable had turned a blind eye, because he was behind it all. No doubt pressure from above had forced him to take me into custody—an Englishwoman with no one to turn to—for the Kennedy murder, so that his superiors could see progress.
No wonder all the efforts to find Michael or the Major had failed. The only policeman we could turn to for official help knew where not to look.
I was angry—and worried. He had the authority of the Constabulary behind him. He could twist the truth, and he would be believed.
And we were a danger to him, Michael and Ellis and Terrence and I.
I heard horses, and there was the second man, bringing them around. I breathed a sigh of relief. The Constable and the other man had finished their conversation, were moving out toward the sound.
They were leaving.
In spite of my relief, I knew they could—would—come back anytime they wished. Or were ordered to.
I hastily made several sandwiches and took them up the back stairs. Knocking on Maeve’s door, I started to say something, and something in her face warned me in time.
Her mother-in-law was sitting in the chair that Simon had mended.
“Mrs. Flynn has come to see if I was feeling a li
ttle better,” Maeve told me.
I smiled, saying, “And I had brought up some sandwiches I thought you might feel like eating. How is your nausea? I’m sorry I had nothing to give you to help.”
Mrs. Flynn was staring at the sandwiches. “That’s heavy food for an ill woman.”
“Well, they aren’t all for her. I missed my dinner as well. And I’m trying to encourage Michael to eat. He must have lost a stone.”
“I wish you would go and take the rubbish with you,” she told me, and got out of the chair. I kept an eye on the cane.
“I am making arrangement to leave,” I said. “As soon as that aircraft can come again, I’ll be off. Perhaps Terrence or Niall can clear the meadow of horses?”
“I’d do it myself if it meant the last of you. I dislike forward women. It speaks poorly of your parents that you have no manners.”
I thought I’d bite my tongue in two. It was one thing to make such remarks to me. But to speak ill of my parents went beyond the pale.
Instead I stood aside to let her pass out of the room.
When she was gone, and we were sure she wasn’t listening at the door, Maeve smiled sympathetically. “I thought you might trip her up as she left.”
“If I hadn’t been brought up to respect my elders, I might have done just that.”
She took one of the sandwiches. “This is heavenly.”
“I must speak to Simon—”
“Yes, of course, please do. Take one of these to him. He must be starving, poor man. We haven’t shown any of you proper Irish hospitality. I’m so sorry about that.”
“Maeve. Begin to pack whatever you’ll need. There won’t be much room, but there will be essentials, things you can’t leave without. We can’t stay here any longer.”
“The Major can’t be moved—”
“We may not have much choice.” I went to the inner door, tapped lightly. Simon came to answer it.
I handed him the plate of sandwiches and said, “I need to look in on the Major.”
When the door was shut behind me, I put my hand on Simon’s shoulder, and leaned up to whisper what I had seen.
He listened, nodded once, and when I’d finished, he said, “That makes him dangerous, the fact that he’s part of the Constabulary. On the whole they’re good men.”
I said, moving away, “How is our patient?”
“Better, I think. He has had rough handling, but he’s a strong man.”
Walking to the bed, I felt his forehead, took his pulse, and checked the burns on his arms. They were still weeping. I was just started to rebandage them when he opened his eyes.
“I thought I was dreaming—delirious. I didn’t believe I was safe.” His voice was a thread. I had to lean closer to hear him.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” I said. “Did you recognize your captors?”
“No. There was someone they deferred to. I never saw him. But they were afraid of him, I think. They redoubled their efforts after he came and went.”
He lay back, spent. “You must get out of here, Bess—”
“Not without you.”
But he’d already begun to drift away.
Turning to Simon, I said, “If only we could get him aboard Arthur’s aircraft. It’s impossible, but it would be the best way out for him. And Michael as well.”
“I could strap them to the wings. It would balance the weight. The problem is, he’d need a longer runway. And less fuel. I don’t know if he could make it to Bristol with less.”
“There must be somewhere in Wales where he could put down.”
“You look very tired, Bess. This has been a heavy burden for you. Michael. The Major. And now this new problem. Go with Arthur when he comes. I’ll see to Eileen and her mother. I want to know you’re out of this, and safely home again.”
Summoning a smile, I said, “Never tell a woman she looks tired. The thing is, I can’t leave until I’m sure you’re safe as well. And of course the parrot,” I added lightly, preparing to leave.
“Terrence is wiring the owner of the caravan. He’s to report it stolen, and then come and claim it. The parrot is safe.”
His voice changed as he said my name. “Bess.”
I turned.
And as I did, the door opened before he could tell me what he’d been about to say. Maeve came into the room.
After all, it was her bedroom. She had every right . . .
“Bess, it’s best you go. I heard raised voices in the kitchen.”
Indeed, as soon as I was close by the door in her sitting room, I could hear them as well.
It wasn’t my place to sort out the problems of the Flynn household. Still, if we had any hope of getting out of here, the well-being of this family was very important. And so I hurried down the stairs.
When I stepped into the kitchen, the argument stopped at once.
Mrs. Flynn was there, Niall, and Molly. They turned as one to stare at me.
Molly had been crying again, but now her face was red and bruised. It looked as if someone had slapped her forcefully with the back of his or her hand.
Granny said sharply, “This is none of your affair.”
I replied, “Who struck her?”
“I don’t know,” Niall retorted. “That’s what we’ve been trying to discover.”
“Yelling at the child isn’t likely to help her confide in you.” I turned to Molly, going over to the pump as I said, “Come, let’s wet a clean cloth and put it on your face. It will feel better.”
But she stared at me, too frightened to cross her employers. I remembered that her mother was ill, and Molly was the sole support of the family. It was the only reason she had stayed when the other staff went away in a huff over having English visitors in the house.
I smiled at her. “Come along,” I said again. “They won’t be angry with you if you let me help you.”
If looks could kill, Granny had just reduced me to a bloody heap on the floor.
But Niall said, “Go on, let her help you.”
I gave her the cool cloth to press against her face, then said, “Now then, is your mother all right? Is she hurt as well?”
She shook her head.
“Just you, then?”
She nodded.
“Who was it?” When she didn’t answer, I went on. “Was it someone in this household?”
Glancing at Mrs. Flynn, she said quickly, “No, Miss.”
Taking a chance, I said, “Is it someone we know? Does he have a name?”
Frightened again, she said, “Please, Miss. Don’t ask me.”
“Was it Padriac?” I remembered the fish dish I’d blamed for poisoning him. Had he in turn blamed Molly? “Was it about something he’d eaten?”
From fright, her reaction to his name went to outright fear. “N-no, Miss.”
And suddenly I’d worked it out. A spy in our household. Molly, who needed the money . . . “Do you work for him, as well as for Mrs. Flynn?”
“I must go, Miss—please, let me go!” Dropping the cloth, she started for the door. Niall, interested now, quickly stepped in front of it, barring her escape.
I said, “Did he ask you to spy on this household?”
She began to cry again. “Please, Miss, don’t make me tell you. He’ll hurt my mother—please, sir?”
“Did he give you something to hide in my room?”
She didn’t need to answer. There was guilt written in her face. “He said it was to make you laugh—”
“You help at the pub, sometimes. The man Padriac—was it you who gave him the fish that was off—to make him ill?”
“No, Miss—oh no! He’d have killed me for it!”
But I thought she had, for Eileen.
Looking at Niall, whose face was flushed with anger, I said, “Let her leave. She’s terrified, we know what we need to know. It doesn’t help to have her mistreated.”
Reluctantly he moved aside, and she made her escape.
As soon as the outer door slammed behind
her, Niall rounded on his grandmother, too angry to wait until I’d left them. “That lies at your door—you and your craving to see the end of anything English. To force them out of Ireland. Terrence is paying the price for it, and if you have your way it will destroy all of us.”
“They killed your father, those English. Killed him! And I won’t rest until not one is left on good Irish soil.”
“Granny, it was an accident. I went to the barracks, I saw the report. I talked to people who were there.”
“When did you do this?”
“Two years ago. I wanted to know, and what I learned was very different from what you’d told me all these years. I wanted to please you, Granny. I wanted to be the hero you wanted us to be, Terrence and me. But my heart wasn’t in it. It never was.”
“You’re not your father’s son. Get out of my house! I never want to see your face again.”
“It isn’t your house, Granny. It’s Terrence’s. Father left it to him.” His voice was tired, now, his face drained of his anger. “God knows, we love you, Granny. We always will. But you must stay out of conspiracies. People like Padriac are hard and hungry for power. They aren’t interested in freeing Ireland for us. They want it for themselves. You’ll get us killed, Granny. Look what happened to Michael. And where’s the Major? Or there’s Bess, clapped up in jail on false evidence. She didn’t kill Fergus any more than I did. This isn’t the way to free this country. If it is, I’d rather leave, and remember it fondly from far away.”
He turned and walked quietly out of the house.
I thought for a moment that she’d call him back. But her pride got in the way. Glaring at me, she thundered, “This is your doing, it was all going well, until you came. And that Major. Be damned to you both. If I never see you again, it will be soon enough.”
Pounding the floor with her cane at every step, stiff-backed and head high, she walked to the door to the back stairs and began to climb them.
The door to the front room opened softly and Eileen, her eyes large with alarm, looked in.
“Bess?” she whispered. “Are you all right? Is Granny?”
“Yes, don’t worry,” I told her.
But I had to worry about getting us safely out of here.
When Terrence came back an hour later, he brought a sack of bandages and ointments and salves and little vials of everything he could think of, to replenish Eileen’s medical kit.