Degree of Solitude

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  He turned and strode back down the corridor, heading for the northern wing of the house, which Catrin was yet to step into. Clearly, the study was in that direction.

  Catrin cleared her throat.

  Gwen grinned. “The Master is particular about his things.”

  “No one is that particular,” Catrin murmured, watching as Daniel turned a corner at the far end of the corridor and disappeared. “There must be another reason why he will allow no one in there.”

  “I wouldn’t know, Miss. I just make sure I stay away from the study.”

  Catrin tabled the matter for consideration when she was alone. “Tea, Gwen. We both deserve to sit for a moment.”

  “That is a grand idea, Miss. Here, let me take the broom.”

  After Gwen had noisily drunk a cup of tea, she got up with a purposeful movement and returned to her work.

  Catrin remained at the sunny table in the drawing room, watching the flames dance in the fire pit. The fire was rarely allowed to die completely, for it provided heat through the chimney ducts to the rest of the house.

  It was a reminder that she needed to procure coal and more wood.

  Catrin reached for the box which everyone presumed was her drawing box, and removed a sheet of paper, her pen and ink. She wrote a short, quick list of tasks she must see to, if this house was to return to some semblance of functional. Coal was just one item.

  She cast her mind back over the hours since she had arrived in Newport, to remember what should be added to the list. Instead, her thoughts returned to the moment upstairs, when Daniel barred her way with his arm across the door.

  No wonder her heart had jumped. The moment had been uncannily similar to another moment, when the entire great family gathered in Wakefield’s red brick house on St. James’ Square. That was when Will had been shot.

  Catrin and her parents had dashed from Marblethorpe on the earliest train possible, along with the entire household of Marblethorpe, including Elisa and Vaughn. Will’s mother and father looked drawn and pale from the news that their oldest son was in mortal danger.

  The Marblethorpe contingent arrived at Wakefield’s townhouse to find most of the family was already encamped there.

  Daniel was there, too, which was the greatest shock of the day. He had returned from China unannounced.

  He does not owe me any explanation, Catrin reminded herself. He is not required to inform me he is home.

  Catrin tore her gaze away from Daniel’s tired face. He was one of the men who had witnessed Will’s foolish duel, she quickly learned. He and Morgan had quartered London, visiting every society house they knew to impart the news of the duel and the reasons for it.

  Daniel would be the perfect representative for such sensitive family business. His reasoning, spoken with that smooth voice of his, would sway anyone to agree with him.

  Instead of confronting Daniel or even speaking to him, Catrin turned and walked back out to the front hall, in search of a room she could use which did not have Daniel in it. There were many public rooms in the Wakefield house. The morning room, the drawing room and the library were all in use, for there were many people here.

  Catrin had never seen the small dining room at the back of the house before. It was not the formal dining room the Wakefields used for most of their meals. With the table in it, this secondary room was cramped, yet it was empty and good light came through the window.

  Catrin put her drawing case on the table and settled to finish the latest Digby Blue story. Writing the story would take her mind off Will and his uncertain future. News would eventually arrive. She could do nothing to hurry it. Instead, she wrote.

  Time passed.

  “Are you hiding from me, Catrin?” Daniel asked, from the door.

  Catrin didn’t lift her head. She fought to school her expression to a serene and indifferent one, while her heart leapt and squeezed. “How can I hide from someone whose location I barely know?” She gathered the finished pages and put them in the case, wiped off her pen and recapped the ink and stowed them away, too. Then she closed the case and latched it.

  Only then did she have the courage to look him in the eye.

  Daniel did not appear to have changed in the slightest. His hair was still thick and straight, the dark brown gleaming with good health. His colorless eyes were exactly as she remembered them. His jaw was still square.

  Her heart pattered unhappily.

  “You knew I was in China,” Daniel said. “Everyone did.” His answer proved he understood her odd comment about his location.

  “Only because I saw the articles in the Times.” Catrin got to her feet and picked up the case. She headed for the door, which would mean skirting around Daniel.

  When she reached the door, he put his hand against the opposite frame, barring her way. His gaze was steady. “This—traveling, arriving home without warning, being away for weeks at a time—this is my work, Catrin. This is why we cannot…why you have no right to be angry with me now.”

  Catrin put down her drawing case. “No right?” she breathed. “You wrote to me for two years, Daniel! Then…nothing.”

  “You know why I did not write again.” He said it calmly, although a pulse in his throat revealed he was not as calm as he pretended to be.

  “You have successfully demonstrated the futility of any future with you in it,” she assured him. “Now, if you will excuse me?” She bent and picked up her drawing case again.

  “I don’t want you to hate me,” Daniel breathed, his voice low and rough with emotion.

  Catrin drew in a deep, deep breath, until her stays creaked. Then she let it out. “I do not hate you.” It was the truth.

  “Then we are still friends?”

  “No, Daniel.”

  His arm dropped. “We are not?”

  Catrin made herself meet his gaze. “You ran away to China to avoid me. How can we be friends after that?”

  “I am a journalist. Traveling to other places is part of my work.”

  She shook her head. “You did not have the assignment when you arrived at Marblethorpe for Christmas. Then we kissed. Then you said we could not ever again. Then you left for China. I know what happened between. The only explanation which makes sense is that you rushed to your editor and begged him to send you somewhere. Anywhere which wasn’t here.”

  Daniel swallowed.

  “Tell me I am wrong,” Catrin added. She couldn’t help the note of pleading in her voice.

  “You know you are not wrong,” Daniel said quietly. “Only, you do not know why I did it.”

  “The lack of letters was explanation enough,” Catrin assured him. “Goodbye, Daniel.”

  Before she could change her mind, or her aching heart made her stay, Catrin brushed past him. Her sleeve and her skirt swirled around his legs and she could feel the heat of him as she stepped through the door.

  Her heart jolted.

  She continued walking until she was safely out of sight, and could find another place to write, instead.

  Just recalling the moment in the doorway made Catrin’s heart patter uneasily. If she had known what laid ahead of them, would she have spurned Daniel quite so easily?

  Catrin made herself acknowledge the uncomfortable truth. She would have behaved differently, had she known.

  She looked down at her list of tasks and realized the ink had thoroughly dried while she was caught up in memories. She cleaned off her pen and was about to dip it once more when the sound of wheels on the gravel outside caught her ears.

  The smart black coach with red trim moved around the plinth. Nevern had returned.

  As Daniel was upstairs, Catrin rose and went to the front door to answer it. Sayers was out, gathering fallen wood.

  She opened the door, to find Nevern upon the doorstep. Catrin glanced behind him.

  “I am alone,” Nevern admitted. “After our chat with Mr. Doherty, Mr. Kernigan discovered he had urgent business at the town’s offices.”

  Catrin squee
zed her hands into fists, hidden among the folds of her dress. “Your conversation with Mr. Doherty did not go well,” she guessed.

  “He refused to speak to us. It might be grief or anger, or maybe he fears repercussions if he was out with the lass on the hills. The man remained sullen and barely met our eyes. I thought that if you were to appeal to his better nature, he would unbend enough to tell us about Blodwen’s last hours, so we can establish she was upon the hills at night.”

  “I’m not sure I would be of any assistance to you,” Catrin said, her tone cold. “Doherty is not an hysterical woman.”

  Nevern winced. “I would apologize for Kernigan, only I feel he should speak for himself. Would it help if I said I do not believe it is the extent to which you might help Newport?”

  “You should go with Nevern,” Daniel said, from behind Catrin.

  “Daniel!” Nevern said, his tone pleased.

  Catrin turned. Daniel stood upon the staircase landing, one hand on the post. There was no light in that corner of the stairs, for the sconce there was not lit. He also stood with his shoulders turned, which put his injured cheek toward the wall, away from the front door.

  “Catrin will have Finn Doherty twittering like a bird in a moment or less,” Daniel added. “That is why you stopped by, isn’t it?”

  “Why don’t you come with us?” Catrin reached for the blue tweed jacket which hung from a brass hook. She had asked Gwen to place it there, to save everyone the bother of running upstairs for it.

  “No.” Daniel shook his head.

  Catrin tried to dismiss the little rush of disappointment.

  “I would merely distract the man,” Daniel added. “Which would counter your potent charm. You go ahead. Nevern will make sure you are safely returned home.”

  “I will,” Nevern agreed.

  Reluctantly, Catrin stepped outside and shut the door.

  Chapter Ten

  As the carriage jerked into motion, Nevern rubbed at his brow.

  “This has been a long day for you,” Catrin said politely. Her tone was stiff.

  Nevern grimaced. “If there is a rogue wolf who now has a taste for human flesh, I will extend my days and go without sleep to resolve the matter. Newport is a small town, Miss Davies.” He glanced out the window. “The day shift at the quarry finishes in ten minutes. We can pick up Mr. Doherty as he walks home and talk to him in here.”

  “If he climbs into the carriage at all,” Catrin pointed out. “That is not certain.”

  Nevern raised his brow. “You are rather good at that, aren’t you?”

  “At what?”

  “Guessing what lies in a man’s mind.”

  Catrin couldn’t explain that she was adept at understanding a person’s character because of the stories she wrote, so she said nothing.

  “This morning, you neatly forced Kernigan into letting you come along by mentioning the local constabulary.”

  “That was unintentional,” Catrin admitted. “Does Mr. Kernigan not like the police force being in his town?”

  “Simon is a simple lad with a good heart and he does help more than he hinders,” Nevern said smoothly. “It is, rather, the fact of Simon’s presence here, than the work he does, which bothers Kernigan the most. Newport has an odd mayoral arrangement. The Mayor has always been appointed to the position by the Barony of Cemaes—currently, Sir Thomas Davies Lloyd. Sir Lloyd directed Kernigan to resolve this matter, as he does most matters concerning Newport. On the other hand, Simon and any other constable who might arrive to deal with Blodwen’s demise does so because their authority comes from the Pembrokeshire Police Force.”

  “Which has nothing to do with the peerage or the traditional way of dealing with such matters,” Catrin concluded. “I see.”

  Nevern smiled. “Kernigan considers police forces to be new-fangled unnecessaries.”

  “Simon’s youth and inexperience cannot help but bolster that opinion.”

  “True,” Nevern admitted easily. “The most effective person so far has been you. That doesn’t sit well with Kernigan, either.”

  “Be careful, Baron. You are perilously close to apologizing for Kernigan, after all.”

  Nevern laughed. “We can’t have that. Look, Miss Davies—at the top of this crest you will see the quarry to best advantage. It is a rather impressive operation for a mere hole in the ground.”

  She bent to peer through the window and caught her breath. The road swung around in a wide curve to approach the quarry from the lowest point. Here, at the crest, she saw nothing but a yawning hole ahead. It was so large a man would take long minutes to cross the width of it. It was very deep, for she could not see the bottom even from this elevation.

  As the coach moved around the bend, heading for the gates of the quarry, more of the interior of the pit became visible. The walls were the same blue stone as Ysgolheigion, only made of rocks and boulders which soared hundreds of feet from the base of the pit to the crest the carriage had just traversed.

  Across the face of the quarry, timbers were interlaced and bolted together to form a structure which supported wider timbers. Men could stand on the horizontal planks to work at the rock face.

  Men coated in dust swarmed down the structure, for their shift had finished. Another thin stream of men walked along the side of the road, most of them with pickaxes over their shoulders. Their faces were dirty, although they seemed cheerful enough, talking and laughing as they walked.

  A man in a suit stood outside a small cabin sitting inside the pit, watching the men leave. He would be the mine manager.

  Catrin studied the giant wall of the quarry once more, a little awed. “They mine slate?” she asked.

  “The mine has been running since 1812. Most of the houses in southern Wales carry Cilgwyn slate on their roofs.” Nevern stirred. “There is Finn Doherty,” he added and thumped on the roof of the carriage with his cane.

  The carriage stopped immediately.

  “Which one is Doherty?” Catrin asked, as the line of quarrymen passed the motionless carriage. Most of them glanced at the carriage. Little curiosity showed in their faces. If Nevern was the owner of the mine, as he had implied, then the carriage would be known to them.

  “The slender one, there,” Nevern said. “With the red kerchief about his neck.”

  Only one man wore a red handkerchief tied about his neck. His face was as dusty as everyone else’s, but his eyes were alive and interested. He scowled when he saw the carriage, no doubt remembering the last conversation involving Nevern.

  “No, don’t get out,” Catrin told Nevern as he stirred. “I’ll speak to him out there.”

  “You can’t walk with the men!” Nevern protested, as Catrin pushed open the door and climbed to the ground.

  She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, conscious of the startled glances she received from the quarrymen as they passed. She looked at Nevern through the window. “Have the carriage move beside me, if you wish.”

  Catrin turned and picked out Finn Doherty again. He was easy to find because he had stopped walking with his friends. The scowl on his face disappeared as Catrin walked toward him. Pleasure did not replace it. Wariness filled his eyes…and they were lovely eyes. Black, full of expression, with thick lashes which might have better suited a woman but did not seem effeminate on him.

  Catrin stopped before him. “I am Catrin Davies,” she said. “I am cousin to Daniel Williams, who lives at Ysgolheigion. Do you know the house?”

  “Aye, I do,” Doherty said. He shifted the pick on his shoulder. “I had nothing to say this morning. Does Nevern think pushing a pretty woman at me will change my mind?”

  “He does,” Catrin said.

  Doherty’s full lips parted. Then he smiled. It was a fleeting expression, but it was there. She had startled him.

  “However, that is not the reason I wanted to speak to you,” Catrin added. She turned so she faced the same direction as him. “Shall we walk as we talk? There will be less chance of
being overheard, that way.”

  “If ye of a mind but I warn you, there is nothing I can tell you about Blodwen Jones.” He walked.

  Catrin kept level with him. “I don’t think you have properly thought this through, Finn. May I call you Finn?”

  “My ma used to call me that. Everyone else calls me Doherty.”

  “I am used to calling the men in my family by their first names,” Catrin explained. “Daniel is Daniel to me and Mr. Williams to everyone else.”

  “He’s the one with the wound on his face, isn’t he?”

  “That is Daniel, yes.”

  “Poor bastard.”

  “He is neither a bastard, nor is he poor, and he would resent your pity,” Catrin said stiffly.

  Doherty cleared his throat. “I ‘pologize, ma’am.”

  “Miss,” she corrected.

  “That so?” He glanced at her speculatively.

  “I will accept your apology, Mr. Doherty, if you in turn tell me when you last saw Blodwen. Was it last night? Here, in the hills?”

  Doherty’s eyes lit up with good humor. “I’m thinking ye got offended just so you could turn it about on me.”

  “Perhaps,” she said carefully. “If we can learn where Blodwen was attacked, Mr. Doherty, then we may be able to save other people from the same fate. Even if your relationship with Miss Jones was the most fleeting of associations, surely your feelings for her are enough to not want that to happen to anyone else?”

  “Of course I don’t want it to happen to anyone else,” Doherty growled. “I told the bloody truth this morning. I cannot help you. Blodwen…Miss Jones…she and I came to a parting of ways five days ago.”

  Catrin held silent, thinking it through. “I am very sorry, Mr. Doherty,” she said at last. “Not just because of any hard feelings the parting may have roused, but also because now we cannot determine for sure what Blodwen did after she left Mrs. Howell’s house.”

  “The old woman who lives next door to Blodwen?” Doherty said sharply.

  “Yes. She left around sunset, we think. At least, it was what she told her mother—that she wanted to stay for a long visit because she had missed so many days lately.”