by Kirsty Ferry
‘One or two.’ Alex frowned again. The cut on his face reminded him of its presence and he winced, putting his hand up to rub it. He mentally ran through the list of attributes Dave had given the skeleton. Something didn’t add up.
‘What happened there?’ asked Dave, nodding at Alex’s temple.
‘My sister did it,’ Alex replied without thinking. ‘Sorry – did you say this woman possibly had children? And she was in her forties?’
Dave laughed. ‘You see. Family feud. You might be the one that ends up in another grave.’ He laughed and laughed and Alex thought how funny it was that you could go off some people so quickly. ‘But in answer to your questions, yes. I’ve been in the business too long to get in too much of a pickle with my bodies. In her forties, yes. Children. Yes. Of course, that doesn’t mean it was a live birth, but—’
Alex let the words drift over him as he turned back to the skeleton. ‘We had a family member go missing in the eighteenth century.’ He frowned. ‘I was wondering if this was her.’
It wasn’t too far off the truth. Georgiana had gone missing – the mere fact they’d only just discovered that fact didn’t mean that it hadn’t originally happened in the eighteenth century.
But somebody must have wanted the world to think Georgiana was dead. And if this wasn’t her – a nineteen-year-old who hadn’t, as far as they knew, had any children – then who was it?
‘Well, lad, just so you know,’ Dave interrupted Alex’s thoughts. ‘It’ll all take a while to get her sorted. We can’t release her until all the tests are done and we know for sure what happened. We don’t know if it’s murder or suicide. Doesn’t seem like natural causes to me though. Not many guns leap up and kill you naturally in my experience.’
There was a clatter nearby and Alex looked up. A group of people were bringing boxes out of the back of a van. They were going to put the skeleton in the boxes and take it away. Alex didn’t want to be around to witness that. Not at all. So he took one last look at the sad collection of bones and said a little prayer for whoever it was.
Then he thanked Dave and his team, took the pathologist’s card and walked slowly back to the Hall.
‘She’s going to the lab,’ said Alex when he came back. He looked wrecked as he sat down between Cassie and Elodie. ‘But I don’t think it’s Georgiana.’
‘Not Georgiana?’ Elodie stared at him. ‘How? It makes sense that it should be her.’
Alex nodded. ‘Dave the Jolly Pathologist thinks it’s a woman in her forties. And he says there’s evidence of childbirth. It doesn’t help.’
‘Can they say how she died?’ asked Elodie, blindsided.
‘Gunshot wound to the chest. Like we didn’t already suspect a shooting.’
‘The duelling pistol?’
‘Seems likely.’
‘I think we’re going to have to—’ Elodie started, when they were interrupted by the front door slamming back against the doorframe, a loud “Woof!” and a friendly “Yoohoo!” coming down the corridor.
‘In here, Margaret!’ shouted Alex. ‘Come on in, Horace. Good boy!’
Horace bounded in and jumped up at all their feet, wagging his feathery tail like it was super-charged. Then Margaret came in and Cassie jumped out of the chair, evaded Horace and flung herself at Margaret. ‘Oh, Margaret, what a horrid day it’s been!’ she wailed.
‘Oh, sweetheart!’ Margaret patted her on the back and made all the right noises. ‘Come on. Let’s get this place tidied up a bit and you’ll all feel better.’ Margaret always believed a cup of tea and a tidy house improved everything. ‘Pop the kettle on, Alex. We’ll get the tea brewing and I’ll make a start upstairs. I bet my baby’s room is the worst again.’ She hugged Cassie and chuckled, then bustled out of the door, Horace jumping around her ankles and chuffing excitedly.
‘Baby’s room?’ Elodie raised her eyebrows, and hid a smile.
‘Mine.’ Cassie had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I’m not that good at tidying up.’
‘I’d noticed.’ Alex chuckled.
‘Well shall I just stop coming home then?’ Cassie snapped and flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Alex put his head in his hands and groaned. ‘I can’t deal with that today,’ he muttered. ‘Cassie in a temper. Well. She can come back when she’s calmed down. Horace is less bother. And we’ve still got the pistol to sort out yet. Great.’
‘Mmm. And I don’t know if I can deal with the pistol,’ Elodie admitted. ‘I just want to end this now. We know the damage pistols can do and you must have seen what happened to the woman under the tree. What if we see it all happening with Georgiana? What if she did get shot? Why else would the pistol be buried in the tomb?’
‘Exactly. I was hoping finding the skeleton would solve most of it, especially if it was Georgiana. I didn’t want to go down the pistol route if we could help it. You think I want to see it happening? I don’t want to see her die. God.’ Alex stared at Elodie for a moment longer. ‘I don’t want to see you die. Even if technically it’s not you, just a memory.’
‘We need to find out what happened though. What if Georgiana was murdered too? What if, God forbid, Lucy did it by accident? Or her Papa did it because she was seeing Ben? Or Ben did it?’
‘You see, that’s what I’m worried about as well. What if Ben killed Georgiana?’ Alex fixed his eyes on her and they were like deep blue-coloured granite. ‘To me, it’s clear that we need to know more about Ben. And the pistol might be the key. We both know we have to do it. So we might as well get it over with. Georgiana is still missing. This is our last hope of finding out what happened.’
Elodie stood in the Long Gallery, watching Alex unlock the cabinet which held the single duelling pistol. His shoulders were set, his eyes still stormy and she knew he was probably thinking about what might have happened.
On the top of a Tudor wooden unit, next to Alex, was the other pistol; the one from Georgiana’s tomb. Elodie was trying not to look at it. It was just horrible – she was, in essence, looking at what was probably a murder weapon.
‘The first thing to do is just to check they are definitely part of the same set,’ said Alex. ‘I meant to do it before but I got distracted and didn’t.’
Elodie nodded dumbly. But he was still standing with his back to her, so she suspected he didn’t know that she’d agreed.
Alex carried the beautiful wooden box over to a chaise longue that was pushed up against the side of the wall, the idea being that tourists could sit on it if they found the walking too much. Then Alex went back to the Tudor unit and brought the pistol from the tomb over to rest beside the box. He proceeded to inspect the two pistols and then lay them side by side. Even Elodie could see that they were a perfect match; apart from the fact, obviously, that one was nice and shiny and the other one was dull and dirty.
‘Yep, they’re a pair.’ Alex nodded at the grubby pistol. ‘It’s bound to hold some of her memories but it’s unlikely they’ll be happy ones.’
Elodie frowned as she tried to work it all out. ‘The facts all point to the oak tree. A body was buried there, and that person seemed to have been killed by a pistol. Probably the one that was hidden away. This one.’ She stared at the weapon. ‘Oh, I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?’ She took a deep breath; then she picked the pistol up from the chaise longue.
It was the middle of the starlit night when he had fled, and there was shouting. A lot of shouting. Georgiana quickly hid Jasper’s duelling pistol in the bodice of her gown and started to hurry along the gallery. She had quickly dressed and was planning to take her horse and ride out to the woods to find Ben. She had heeded his warning about protecting herself with Jasper’s pistol; but it seemed she was too late.
‘We got him!’ her father cried. ‘We got the bastard. The men are dealing with it. He’s finished. I told them he murdered Jasper – that duel story never fails me!’ The Earl let out a bellow of laughter. ‘Two reprehensible situations dealt with at on
ce. The stupidity of a drunken boy and the inexcusable behaviour of a slut.’
Before Georgiana could react, a door crashed open and her mother fell out of her bedroom, slopping red liquid out of a glass all over the polished floors. Georgiana hadn’t seen or heard from her in two days. She could see from the state of the Countess what had caused her absence and Georgiana was disgusted. More than that – ashamed. The woman staggered towards the staircase, trying to push past her daughter before she realised who she was.
Then the Countess stopped and stared at Georgiana and raised one, shaking forefinger. ‘There have been rumours. Rumours I cannot allow to circulate about this family. Now, it is finished. But may God help you! The county knows it all – they know you have thrown yourself away and they know who on. You’ve brought shame to us all!’
The ground shifted beneath Georgiana’s feet and the room wavered. She stared at her mother, unable to defend herself, holding onto the windowsill lest she crumple into a sickly heap. They had only loved each other like that a handful of times – but once – once, she had heard the door creak and passed it off as the old wood flexing in the cooling evening. What if someone had seen them? What if they had seen fit to tell tales?
Her mother sobbed – an ugly, messy sound – and raised her hand as if to strike her.
Georgiana managed to croak out a few words, ducking out of the Countess’s way. ‘I love him! We are to be married.’
‘You are a harlot! A whore! You shame me! You shame us all!’ The Countess pushed her face up so close to Georgiana’s that the girl could see the bloodshot state of her eyes and smell the stench of filth and old liquor on her. ‘You brought him to your room and you prostituted yourself. He is a murdering thief. A highway robber. He will have bedded hundreds of women. You are diseased: ruined. No man will take you now. No man. He killed your brother. You should go to Hell for what you have done.’
A veil of red descended over Georgiana’s vision and she clenched her fists to prevent herself from punching her mother. ‘To Hell? Then I look forward to it. And as for you. You are drunk and delusional. You know that he didn’t murder Jasper. Jasper was killed in a brawl. It matters not what my father wishes the world to believe. Jasper died like a dog on the highway. He did not die in a duel or in any way like a gentleman would die. It was a brawl. His body was dumped on the steps of the Hall with his bones shattered and his pistol missing. I found him, for God’s sake! I know what happened! Everyone knows what happened! Father has disowned him for his misfortune, and you haven’t been sober since. Why, I believe it has driven you half mad! Yet he was only a boy. I loved him. He was my brother. He made one mistake. But all he had seen for years was you drinking yourself into a stupor.’
At that point her mother did strike her. The Countess raised her hand and slapped Georgiana so hard her ears rang and she stumbled over a Tudor cabinet.
‘You are selfish and you are a liar. Your brother was worth a thousand of you!’ her voice caught on another, more pathetic sob. ‘I cannot believe my daughter – my daughter! my own child! – could be so immoral. How could you throw yourself away on a thief and a murderer? How? Well.’ Suddenly, she began to laugh hysterically, which Georgiana found utterly terrifying. ‘Now you will never see your beloved murderer again. He’s swinging from the oak tree with a rope around his neck. I hope the birds peck his eyes out and you are there to watch it happen.’
Georgiana put her hand to her mouth to stifle her screams and ran to the window while her mother stumbled down the stairs yelling congratulatory comments to the Earl.
The oak tree. She had to get to the oak tree.
She prayed she would not be too late.
Elodie dropped the pistol as if it were made of molten metal. She stumbled and grabbed the edge of the cabinet, fighting back the tell-tale hitch in her chest and a world that was going far too woozy for comfort.
‘We do have to go back to the oak tree,’ she managed. ‘There’s something about Ben there.’
Alex made one, sweeping glance that took in both Elodie and the pistol and swiped the weapon up from the chaise longue. He tucked it in his belt and then scooped Elodie up in his arms. ‘Let’s go now,’ he said. ‘We’ll get there more quickly if I carry you.’
He took a few hurried steps down the corridor, Elodie hanging onto his neck, half unsure how she’d ended up in his arms. Their progress was hindered by Margaret, carrying an armful of clothes.
‘That child gets more and more untidy!’ The connecting door to the family wing of the Hall was standing wide open. ‘Sorry, love. I took a short cut. Hope you don’t mind.’ Margaret smiled at Alex, one quick look, Elodie noticed, taking in the fact Elodie was in his arms. ‘Cassie’s got so much junk in that room, it was just easier to come this way and cut the corner off,’ Margaret continued, not even looking quizzically at them.
‘Do whatever you want,’ said Alex, nodding. ‘Elodie and I are just heading out anyway. You stay as long as you like. Maybe Cassie would be happier in a sty?’
Margaret laughed. ‘I don’t know about that. The way these things smell, I guess she could be smoky bacon.’ She chuckled. ‘If I find she’s started sneaking cigarettes in again, I’ll not be happy with her. I thought she’d stopped that at fourteen.’
She wafted closer to them and Elodie’s nose wrinkled. Sage. Sage smoke. Just like the stuff her cottage had been filled with. Her chest tightened and she clung onto Alex more firmly, her heart hammering. Not another attack – not again! Her chest had suddenly decided it didn’t like sage smoke anymore; which was possibly going to cause her issues for future smudging sessions.
‘They’re Cassie’s clothes?’ Alex’s nose wrinkled in recognition as well.
‘These? Why yes.’ Margaret lifted the pile of clothes up and pushed them further towards Alex; which meant, of course, that they were also closer to Elodie.
She choked a little. ‘Alex – can you put me down please? Please? Next to the window.’ She could feel the rasping as the breath started to catch in her chest. ‘Or, can we go? While I can still breathe? Please.’
‘Cassie set that fire!’ he said, horrified. Elodie felt his arms tighten around her protectively. ‘Or someone made her do it!’
‘Alex. Please? The window. I need—’
’God. Sorry. Yes. Margaret – we’ll see you later. I’ll see Cassie later too. Thanks. Thank you.’ Alex turned and sprinted down the corridor, Elodie clinging on, squeezing her eyes shut and concentrating on continuing to breathe.
Once they were outside, Alex paused and looked into Elodie’s eyes searchingly. ‘Are you all right? Do we need to get you to hospital again?’
Elodie laughed weakly and shook her head. ‘I’m fine now we’re outside. Thank you. That sage smoke just caught me. Right here.’ She tapped her fingers on her chest. Her face was at the same height as his for once and he so desperately wanted to kiss that perfect little mouth, but he didn’t; instead, he put her gently back on her feet.
She looked up at him searchingly. ‘Alex. I have to tell you something about the oak tree. If you come with me, you might find out the hard way and I don’t think it will be pleasant for either of us.’
‘It’s fine. Whatever is up there, we face it together. It can’t be worse than finding a body.’
Her eyes dropped to the pistol in his belt. ‘Yes, but we know that lady definitely isn’t Georgiana. She’s still missing, isn’t she? But Georgiana’s memory in the corridor was so strong – her mother told her what happened at the tree and it might have ended badly for Ben. The Countess took great delight in it, the old witch.’
‘The Countess? Jane? Was she as bad as they say?’
‘She was awful. Drunk, unhinged, said lots of cruel things.’
‘My mother married into the right family then,’ Alex said wryly.
‘She was worse than your mother, but I think she felt Jasper’s death more keenly than anyone realised. She was grieving and grieving badly. She told Georgiana that …’ Her v
oice trailed off and she gazed out towards the tree; then she took a deep breath, looked at Alex and tried again. ‘She told Georgiana that Ben had been hanged over there. Now I don’t know if it was true but—’
‘I knew I never liked that tree!’ Alex’s hand strayed to his neck and he rubbed it. ‘Hanged. Well, that’s just fantastic. What a way to end a love story!’
Elodie reached up and took hold of his hand; she covered it with her own and stilled his movements. ‘Are you sure you really want to come up to the oak tree now?’
Alex took a deep breath. ‘Yes. Yes. I still want to go there. It’s all shadows. All the past. All memories. Hopefully we won’t kill each other.’ It was a bad joke and he knew it.
‘All shadows.’ Elodie wasn’t laughing, either. ‘I’ll tell you what I know on the way up there.’
He looked down at her, standing so prettily and so concernedly in front of him; he noted a few freckles sprinkled across a nose that was pink from the recent summer weather. She looked all of sixteen again and his heart melted a little. ‘Are you okay to walk? Or do you need a lift again?’
That was a better joke.
She smiled this time. ‘I can walk, thank you.’
Chapter Twenty-One
It took them a good twenty minutes to get to the oak tree. It didn’t normally take that long, but they walked slowly as Elodie told Alex about the drunken mother and the accusations.
He was horrified, ashamed that the Kerridges had ever been like that.
‘At least I’m descended from the French cousin, the Aldrich line,’ he said with feeling. Things were different in those days and people were cruel and children, especially girls, were disposable; but to go to all that trouble to laud your son and sanctify your daughter, just to protect the family name; when all along, you had been the people to poison their lives and cause their downfall? It was horrible.