The Echo at Rooke Court

by Harriet Smart

“True enough,” he said.

  “Captain Lazenby will soon realise that he has made a foolish mistake,” Emma said.

  “That is debatable,” said Giles. “What I cannot bear is being made to leave a job half-finished.”

  “And they will see that you must come back and finish it, I’m sure of it,” said Emma, her hands on his lapels. “Now, Major, some exercise, I think? There is a pleasant breeze today. I can smell autumn in the air at last! Shall we ride or shall we walk?”

  “Ride. Then I shall see you in your new habit –”

  “Which you like very much,” she said, as he wrapped his arms about her. “Maybe a little too much? Perhaps we should walk.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, releasing her from his embrace with a kiss. “But if we ride we can go and pay a call on Mr Hurrell. You said he was lodging at the schoolmaster’s in the village?”

  “Yes, but should you talk to him? If he is a suspect?”

  “We shall go as friends of Lady Maria and her father – in that capacity we have a right to know why he is here. I have not mentioned it yet to Lord Rothborough, but it will have to be talked about sooner rather than later.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I would like to talk to him before he is arrested. That is surely imminent – they have all the evidence.”

  “But you have not told them he is here?”

  “No, I didn’t know until I read your letter, and that was after I had been relieved of duty.”

  “And I suppose the conversation will not stray onto the subject of Lady Maria?”

  “If it strays, it strays. One thing cannot be talked of without the other, I dare say.”

  “You are a devious fox,” she said, with a smile. “You want to keep him to yourself. You want to extract a confession out of him and use him to bargain your way back. You will bring his head in on a plate to show they cannot do without you.”

  “That would be useful, certainly. But he may not be guilty. That is why I want to talk to him. His behaviour is curious. He has a strong nerve if he did do it. And would you not prefer him to be innocent? Given how charming you find him?”

  “Certainly!” she said. “It would be beyond dreadful. Especially for Maria!”

  The ride through the parkland was made delightful by the cooler weather and the sight of Emma in her new dark green riding habit, her veil streaming behind her as she broke into a canter. As he watched her, he could not help wishing he had the money to buy her such a fine horse, and then remembering his situation, wondered when he would be asked to give up his own horse, the reliable and sweet-natured gelding of which he had become fond.

  They made their way to the east gates, where the village lay, with its neat houses and well-stocked gardens. They asked directions to the schoolmaster’s house, which was, unsurprisingly, next door to the school. It had been put down in a generous garden of its own, trimmed with an orchard’s worth of fruit trees, all heavy with that year’s crop.

  Giles dismounted, and was about to knock on the schoolmaster’s door when a pony cart came down the street.

  “Oh, it’s Maria,” said Emma, and trotted away towards her. The women exchanged a few words, Emma turned her horse and they came down towards the schoolmaster’s house together.

  “I was not going to call on him,” Maria was saying earnestly to Emma. “You must believe me. I was only taking some things to Mrs Watson – she has just had twins and...” But she was blushing, as if she had thought of committing the crime, even if she had not done so.

  A first floor window opened and Mark Hurrell himself looked out and saw them all.

  “May we have a word, Mr Hurrell?” Giles called up.

  “Yes, of course, sir,” said Hurrell. “I shall be down at once.”

  “I had better go,” said Maria, picking up her reins, “had I not?” She glanced at the house and then at Emma, desperate for guidance.

  “Stay,” said Giles, catching the bridle of her pony. “You both should stay.”

  “Are you sure?” said Emma.

  “Yes,” he said, as the door to the house opened, and Mark Hurrell stood in the porch. “In you go. I will deal with the horses.”

  He returned a few minutes later, and found the three of them had gone into the orchard.

  “I thought it might be more discreet out here,” Mark Hurrell said.

  Emma and Lady Maria had settled on a rustic bench, under heavily laden branches and late summer sunshine. In other circumstances it would have made a fine setting for a double portrait, for it showed both women to great advantage. But Maria’s anxious expression would not have suited the portrait. She had leant close to Emma for comfort, taking Emma’s hand, and it was certain that the sight of Mark Hurrell was causing her both pleasure and pain. That gentleman for his part had sat down on the grass, his knees drawn up under his chin, but he did not look remotely at his ease. He sprang up again at the sight of Giles, muttered something about fetching another stool, and bolted back into the house.

  Giles sat down on the clumsy stool that remained, and received a questioning look from Emma, even as Maria leaned closer to her.

  “What is going on, Major Vernon?” Maria said. “What is this all about?”

  But he had no opportunity to answer, for Hurrell returned with a chair and sat down, and then at once stood up again.

  “I suppose you have been wondering why I left the Hermitage,” he said.

  “Given the circumstances, yes,” said Giles. “Perhaps you could give us your account of it. I know that you saw your father last Saturday evening.”

  “Yes, yes, I did,” said Hurrell.

  “And you left the next day without telling anyone where you were going.”

  “Yes,” said Hurrell.

  “Which in the circumstances aroused great suspicion.”

  “I suppose it might have done,” said Hurrell. “But my intention was not to evade you, Major Vernon. My business was –” He broke off and gestured at Maria. “I came here to speak to Lord and Lady Rothborough, exactly as I said to you, my lady, that first day, because – may I?”

  Maria now sat up straight, disentangled herself from Emma, and nodding, said, “You had better say it all.”

  “I wanted to ask them to give me their permission to address Lady Maria,” said Hurrell. “That was our intention.”

  “You and Lady Maria had formed this plan?”

  “Yes, sir, we had. We had decided, in the circumstances, that it was the best thing to do, that I should throw myself on Lord and Lady Rothborough’s mercy because of what happened that night.”

  “Which night?” Giles said.

  “The night we were all at Hurrell Place,” said Lady Maria. “The night Mr Hurrell was thrown out. You must remember, Major Vernon?”

  “Yes, very well.”

  “The fact is,” Mark said, “I did not leave. I was angry, especially when my father had written asking me to come, and then to be refused in so humiliating a fashion! I had been listening outside to the music after dinner, which was enchanting, and it put me in a strange mood. I could not bear to be an exile from my old home any longer, so I went in by the back way. The house has several staircases and I went in, determined at least to revisit my old quarters, unseen by anyone, for I know all the ins and outs, naturally. This was in the small hours. Everyone had gone to bed and I was in the Long Gallery, and there was –”

  “I could not sleep. It was too hot,” said Lady Maria. “It was entirely by chance we met but... oh dear. Oh, Mr Hurrell – it was strange.”

  “Yes,” said Mark Hurrell, now addressing Lady Maria as if there were no one else there, “and do you remember how the more we talked, the less inclined we were to bid one another good night? I knew I should leave you be, and yet I could not.”

  “We went up onto the roof, in the little stone banqueting house up there!” burst out Lady Maria. “I know we should not have done, but –”

  Now she rose to meet him.

  “I do not know
how to put this without sounding like a fool,” said Mark Hurrell, his eyes fixed on Lady Maria, “but it did feel in that moment, at least on my part, that here lay my destiny. I have always wondered what the point of my existence was, and suddenly I saw clearly that it was to be with this woman who seemed already to understand me.”

  “You were so frank, how could I not understand you?” said Lady Maria. “You told me how hopeless it was. That you could not even presume to imagine any future for us. You told me everything that was said against you. He was so honest that I could not but feel –” She broke off and walked away a little, steadying herself. “I have been courted before, you see, but it was never like this. This was so strange – and you felt that too. We knew at once this might be... oh, I know it sounds impulsive, and it was, and that was why I decided he must speak first to Papa and Mama and see what they said. So that is why he is here.”

  “That is all very interesting,” said Giles. “But you both need to be aware of some important facts. Now, Mr Hurrell, after you had left the Hermitage, we conducted a search of your property. We found a blood-stained arrow and a smock also covered with recent blood spatters. Mr Carswell has established that your brother was killed with an arrow.”

  “That was nothing to do with me!” said Hurrell. “Lady Maria, you will believe me. Someone must have put them there to make it seem as if I were behind it! Some foolish person, I must say, because I would never do such an idiotic thing! And seriously, sir, you cannot take their presence as any indication of their being used by me? It is purely circumstantial.”

  “Men have been hanged on less evidence,” said Giles. “And you had quarrelled with your brother for years, and you stand to gain a great deal by his death.”

  “I have gained nothing by it!” exclaimed Hurrell. “I have nothing now. Not a single one of my siblings is left to me, my father will not speak to me and I don’t think that Lady Maria will after this, thank you, sir!”

  “I do not believe him, Mr Hurrell!” said Maria, quietly. “I know you would not kill your brother.”

  “The brother who so recently and publicly provoked you, Mr Hurrell?” Giles went on. “Who horsewhipped you in front of the entire village? Who has been so cruel to you for so many years? I have that from your own father, Mr Hurrell, that Arthur was over-zealous when asked to correct you as a boy. That his punishments amounted to abuse.”

  “I deserved all that – I was odious,” said Hurrell. “You must ask yourself this: why would I risk my life and my soul to kill my only brother? I have no one left, that is the worst of all this. They have all gone. I would do anything to have Arthur back, impossible though he was, because he was all I have left of my mother. There were times, when he was so minded, that he would laugh or say something clever and I would see her again, for a moment. Why would I destroy that?”

  “And then there is the matter of Miss Wytton,” said Giles. “You told me that you considered your brother’s treatment of her abominable.”

  “That’s true,” said Hurrell, “but that was an opinion, not a motive!”

  “It might be if you had been lovers. And I am informed that there had been some intimacy between you.”

  “Who says that?” said Hurrell.

  “Your father. He told me that was the reason that Arthur considered himself no longer obliged to marry her. Because you had seduced her.”

  “I did not. I swear I did not,” said Hurrell.

  “So, what are we to make of all her visits to you at the Hermitage? And the letters brought by Agnes Baker?”

  “It pains me to say this, but Miss Wytton is a trouble-maker and if she has said that to my father – for that is the only reason I can think that he would believe it, if she had told him so herself, then –” He turned to Maria who was now looking most uncomfortable. “My father is mistaken about that. She is nothing to me. You saw us together, Major Vernon – how impossible she was to me. She accused me of killing Arthur herself, do you not remember?”

  Giles nodded and wished again that he had been able to interview Miss Wytton.

  “But there is nothing that happened between you and Miss Wytton that might give a casual observer, or indeed the lady herself, any idea that you had intentions towards her?” he asked. “Why would she write and visit you so assiduously in the circumstances?”

  Hurrell sat down again and pressed his face to his hands for a moment.

  “I’m ashamed of this – many years ago, there was between us an episode, one summer – just before I went up to Oxford. There was nothing improper in it, but I was young and I fancied myself in love with her for a while, and she may have used my ill-concealed admiration to make Arthur more attentive. It made him jealous enough to give me a good thrashing. I suppose she counted that as a result.”

  “That was the summer you rescued me from that dog, was it not?” Maria said, plaintively.

  “Yes, yes, it was,” he said. “I remember that so clearly – we walked down the meadow together, and your father was there, and I was happy for that afternoon, in a way I had never known before. It was the difference between day and night for me. And it was after that I realised I did not love Margaret, that it was only folly to think of her that way. I must have seen something then, when I helped you, some truth which –” He broke off and got up, shaking his head. “But you will say that is foolishness, will you not, Major Vernon? And you, ma’am,” he added to Emma. “When man has such a question hanging over his head, when someone has gone to the trouble to put a bloodied arrow and a smock in his house to make it look as if he killed his own brother? To be talking of... of...”

  “Of love?” said Lady Maria. “No, it’s not foolish. And I believe you, Mr Hurrell. I don’t think you would do such a thing. Even if I do not know you very well, I know this. In this case you must be wrong, Major Vernon.”

  There was a powerful sincerity in the ardent way Lady Maria looked at Hurrell, and be she right or wrong, she silenced them for a moment.

  “What was in Miss Wytton’s letters?” Giles asked.

  “A great deal of nonsense. She was trying to engage my affections, or perhaps arouse my passions. She wanted to trap me, at any rate. It did occur to me that she knew about Arthur’s vow of celibacy, and she assumed then that I would one day inherit everything, and perhaps I might do as a husband after all. I imagine she was a little desperate.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Because she was eight and twenty, with no sight of a husband? And she had wanted that so long, with so little success. But I can’t say for certain. The letters were disturbing, to be frank.”

  “Might I see them?”

  “I burnt them. It seemed unkind to keep them.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  “Yes, because she will deny she ever wrote such things to me. She would deny that she even came to visit me, but since you saw her there yourself, she will not at least be able to do that.”

  “That’s true,” said Giles, considering for a moment the facts that he had already established. “You say these letters were disturbing. Did she make any suggestion that you should murder your brother?”

  “That is quite a question,” said Hurrell. “But no.”

  “And she never spoke to you suggesting you did so?”

  Hurrell shook his head.

  Giles wondered, with a measure of frustration, how things might be proceeding in Northminster. Had Miss Wytton been successfully charged with anything, or had she been released? Was she already making a hasty retreat with her brother to the Continent? He hoped desperately that Lazenby had allowed Coxe and Rollins to interview her. They might not have got a confession but they might have disquieted her sufficiently to make the sort of errors that would cast doubt on her testimony. He felt certain her hand was somewhere at work in these proceedings, but he still lacked hard evidence and could not at that moment think how he would get it.

  In the meantime, the wind got up a little and rustled the leaves in the orchard, and
sent the first real chill in the air that he had felt for weeks. Emma rose and took Lady Maria’s arm and said, “We should go back. It is going to rain.”

  “Yes, I suppose we should,” said Maria.

  “Do you want anything more of me, Major Vernon?” said Hurrell.

  “I would like your assurance that you will remain here for the time being.”

  “You have that. I have no reason to go anywhere else,” he added, with a gesture towards Maria. “And I must talk to Lord Rothborough. Perhaps this afternoon?”

  “Tomorrow,” said Giles. “I should like to talk to him first, if I may?”

  ~

  Lord Rothborough drained the rest of his coffee, and sat for a moment considering what Giles had just told him about Lady Maria and Mark Hurrell.

  “Love is an inconvenient emotion, certainly,” he said with a sigh, and rubbed his face.

  “I’m afraid I was rather brutal with her,” Giles said. “But I thought it better she knew all the facts against him as soon as possible. Before she was in too deep.”

  “Maria has always been a good judge of character,” said Lord Rothborough. “It is a curious thing. Stranger still, she has never fallen in love before. She had a couple of suitors in Italy the winter I was there. Both excellent young men, and Lady Rothborough was in favour of one of them. But Maria was indifferent to their attentions. It was impressive, though Lady Rothborough was not amused. The worst of it is,” he went on, “in other circumstances, he would be a good prospect for her. Especially now that his brother –” He gave a brief, bitter laugh. “However, cruel though it seems, they had better not see anything more of each other for the time being. You say he is lodging with the schoolmaster and his wife?”

  “Yes. I know this will not suit you, but I would prefer he remained there. I need to know where he is, at least in the short term.”

  Rothborough nodded.

  “I understand. I will go and talk to him myself. Given that he came to see me, he deserves that. If he is innocent, and serious about my daughter, then it will be some proof of it if he stays here and keeps his distance. We will have to keep Maria busy and away from the village, no matter how charitable she is feeling. I know she would not deliberately defy me and go to see him, but she might attempt to see him by accident. I will speak to her about it.”