Hawke's Tor

by Thompson, E. V.

  The suggestion left Zillah speechless and Verity added, ‘You don’t have to give me a reply right away, Zillah, think about it and let Tom know. He will be able to contact me through Talwyn … but may I take some sketches with me? I will ensure they are returned to you in due course.’

  ‘Of course … and if your friend thinks I am good enough to become a real artist I have no need to think about it. It’s something I’ve dreamed about for as long as I can remember, but that’s all I ever thought it would be … a dream!’

  Then, struck by a sudden thought, she said, ‘But would the money I get from my grandma when she sells the farm be enough to keep me … and pay your friend for teaching me?’

  Verity smiled. ‘There will be no need for you to worry yourself about that, Zillah. If my friend thinks as I do, that you have talent, I will become your patron. In exchange for the occasional piece of your work I will support you until you are able to earn a living from it.’

  Her expression one of disbelief, Zillah looked from Verity to Tom and back again before saying, ‘But we have only just met for the first time, why should you want to do this for me?’

  ‘It may be the first time we have spoken, Zillah, but I saw your sketches when I was last in Cornwall and believe you will one day become a very well-known artist indeed. When you do I will not only have the very real satisfaction of knowing I helped you along the way, but will probably have enough of your work to more than cover my expenditure if ever I decide to sell them. So, you see, not only will I be doing something to bring pleasure to myself and others, but I will have made a sound business investment. ’

  ‘Thank you very, very much…!’ Turning to Tom, she added, ‘And thank you too, Tom … Thank you all.’

  Suddenly the tears Tom had witnessed on another occasion appeared in her eyes and she said, ‘Dado would have been so very proud….’

  Talwyn, used to dealing with upset and emotional pupils put an arm about Zillah’s shoulders and said, ‘Let’s you, me and Verity go into the house for a while. We’ll take the sketches with us and you can explain them to us while the men discuss the information you’ve given to them.’

  Chapter 31

  WHILE THE DIVERSE dramatic events were taking place at the Hawkes’ house, not very far away a more acrimonious meeting was taking place at the home of Chief Constable Gilbert, adjoining the Cornwall police headquarters in Bodmin.

  The chief constable had attended the same church service as Amos, Talwyn, Verity and Tom, where they all met and had a brief conversation, before parting and going their separate ways and, when they reached home the Gilberts found Colonel Trethewy waiting for them. The Trelyn landowner wasted no time on social niceties. Ignoring Mrs Gilbert, he launched straight into a verbal tirade directed at the chief constable.

  ‘I want a word with you on a very serious matter, Gilbert … or, to be more precise on two serious matters.’

  ‘If this is police business perhaps you can call on me at my office tomorrow morning. I have a busy day but I will find time to discuss whatever it is that’s troubling you.’

  ‘It is very much police business – but also a matter of considerable public concern – and as your officers have called at Trelyn Hall unannounced and disrupted my routine I see no reason why your home should be considered sacrosanct.’

  Chief Constable Gilbert could see that Colonel Trethewy had worked himself up into a state of barely contained fury. Turning to his wife, he said, ‘You carry on into the house and see that cook has everything prepared for lunch, dear. I will be with you as soon as I have dealt with Colonel Trethewy.’

  Glancing unhappily from her husband to the irate landowner, she asked hesitantly, as etiquette demanded, ‘Will the colonel be with us for lunch?’

  ‘No,’ Gilbert said firmly, ‘he will not be staying for lunch and he and I will have our discussion out here. I doubt whether it will take long.’

  When she had gone into the house, still troubled, Chief Constable Gilbert said stonily, ‘We will walk in the garden to discuss your grievances and, in view of the manner in which you have chosen to air them, I hope they are not of a trivial or imagined nature.’

  Pointing along a broad gravel pathway that led between flowering rose bushes, he said, ‘We’ll go this way, out of hearing from the house.’ With this he set off along the path without waiting for his companion.

  Catching up with him, Colonel Trethewy said, ‘My first complaint is something we have disagreed about before … the treatment meted out by Superintendent Hawke to Morgan, my estate steward, after Hawke came to my house without prior warning and told Morgan he was to report to him at your headquarters, here in Bodmin. Told him, not requested, behaving as though he were a commissioned officer addressing a subordinate. As I told you at the time, my advice to Morgan was to ignore the summons but he felt it his duty to come here and learn what Hawke’s nonsense was all about and I came with him. Hawke never informed him – or me – what it was all about at the time, instead, they arrested him and threw him into a cell, as though he was a common criminal. It was a disgraceful way to treat a perfectly respectable man and I dread to think what they did to him overnight, he refuses to tell me, but he returned to Trelyn a changed man, quite oblivious to everything going on around him. If he does not improve I will need to dismiss him and Hawke will have cost me a first class land steward.’

  When Chief Constable Gilbert made no reply, Colonel Trethewy spluttered angrily, ‘Well? Do you have nothing to say in explanation? I can assure you the police committee will be more forthcoming when I lay my complaint before them tomorrow. ’

  ‘You said you had a second “serious” complaint,’ the chief constable said, laconically.

  The reply angered Colonel Trethewy even more and he said, ‘I intend to complain to the police committee about the waste of the tax-payers’ money and the misuse of police property by Hawke’s sergeant clerk, Churchyard. I had to go to Bodmin Road railway station yesterday and could hardly believe my eyes when I saw him driving away in the headquarters carriage with a young woman on the seat beside him. He had the impudence to nod a greeting to me as though I was one of his no doubt dubious acquaintances.’

  ‘Sergeant Churchyard would have recognized you, Colonel, he is a very observant policeman … and a good one, probably the best in my force. In fact I had a letter only a couple of days ago from the Chief Constable of the Wiltshire Constabulary, asking me to thank Churchyard for something he had done while he was there on our current murder investigation.’

  ‘Is that all you have to say? Am I to tell the police committee you actually condone the unauthorized use of police vehicles?’

  ‘You may tell the committee whatever you wish, Colonel.’

  The two men had reached the end of the long garden path now and were faced by a solid studded gate set into a wall which had guarded an ancient priory that had once existed on the site where the chief constable’s house now stood.

  Stopping and turning to face his companion, Chief Constable Gilbert said, ‘When you saw Sergeant Churchyard he was carrying out my instructions. The young woman with him is the stepdaughter of Wiltshire’s Chief Constable, and someone who has provided us with information of great value in our murder investigation. Incidentally, you met her yourself, when she came to Trelyn and spoke to the girls at North Hill school. I detailed Churchyard to take the headquarters wagonette and bring Miss Pendleton from the railway station when I knew she was coming to Bodmin.’

  Remembering somewhat uncomfortably that Verity Pendleton was close to the royal court in London, Colonel realized it might be better if he forgot the matter as far as reporting this particular incident to the police committee was concerned, but he had not finished with Chief Constable Gilbert.

  ‘That doesn’t explain the state of my estate steward after he was unlawfully detained in a cell overnight.’

  ‘Horace Morgan was helping us with our inquiries into certain aspects of the murder of his wife and child and it was
convenient for everyone to lodge him in a cell overnight rather than question him far into the night then send him home. As it happened Morgan proved most helpful … and I have received no complaint from him.’

  ‘All these unnecessary inquiries are a complete waste of police time and tax payers’ money, Gilbert. I told Superintendent Hawke at the time the bodies of the gypsy and Morgan’s baby were found in the well, that the gypsy was obviously the murderer of both the baby and Morgan’s wife. The gypsy threw the baby into the well and accidentally fell in after it. Had all this happened in the days before Parliament forced a constabulary on us I would have explained this to the coroner and that would have closed the book on the matter, leaving the parish constables free to do something useful by stopping gypsies and vagrants coming into Cornwall and causing mayhem.’

  ‘And leaving the actual murderer at large to no doubt kill again,’ Chief Constable Gilbert retorted. ‘I think the flaw in your conclusion was pointed out to you at the time by Superintendent Hawke and later confirmed by the pathologist. Jed Smith – the gypsy – was murdered, as was Mrs Morgan. The killer was also responsible for the death of the baby, although the circumstances of his death are less clear.’

  ‘All fanciful hogwash!’

  ‘Perhaps I should come along to this meeting and say my piece,’ Gilbert said, amiably. ‘As we get closer to the murderer our investigations have uncovered a great many unexpected but most interesting facts the committee would undoubtedly find of great interest, implicating as they do one or two men who hold high office in the county, all of whom must be breathing sighs of relief at the death of the unfortunate Mrs Morgan. Even though they might have had nothing to do with her actual death their behaviour, whilst not criminal in the accepted sense, can at best only be described as despicable and dishonourable. Were their names to become known they would find themselves ostracized by their peers and most probably removed from the prestigious offices some hold.’

  Colonel Trethewy looked at the chief constable uncertainly. ‘What are you talking about? Whose names have been mentioned … and why?’

  ‘Sadly, it is a matter concerning the honour, and morals, of Horace Morgan’s wife and is not something I wish to disclose unless it becomes absolutely necessary and I feel it in the public interest to do so. Tomorrow’s meeting of the police committee would perhaps be an appropriate occasion. I could put my information before its members and seek their opinion on how I should deal with it. I have no doubt their discretion could be relied upon to keep my information to themselves, in view of its extremely sensitive nature … but notes will have to be made by clerks, of course, and they might find it more difficult not to repeat what they have heard. But tell me Colonel, is tomorrow’s meeting scheduled, or is it one you are calling simply to air your grievances…?’

  Watching from the doorway of his home as Colonel Trethewy rode away a few minutes later, Chief Constable Gilbert felt it was highly unlikely the police committee would be called upon to meet on the following day. He also doubted whether the Trelyn magistrate would be quite so virulent in his denigration of the Cornwall Constabulary in the future.

  There was also the possibility that Amos’s inquiries might yet reveal that Colonel Trethewy had more to hide than the cuckoldry of his estate steward.

  Chief Constable Gilbert entered his house feeling the intrusion into his private life on this Sunday might well mark the beginning of a new and less acrimonious relationship between Colonel Trethewy and the Cornwall Constabulary.

  Chapter 32

  ‘IT WAS VERY kind of you to offer Zillah an opportunity to study with your artist friend.’ Talwyn made the comment as they stood together at the window of her home. Outside, Zillah stood at the garden gate holding the reins of her horse as she talked to Amos and Tom.

  ‘I would not have made such an offer had I not been convinced of her talent,’ Verity replied. ‘She has much to learn before she can become a professional artist, but I am very impressed with her and feel my friend will be too. Besides, they will provide support for each other along the way. The world of painters is much more relaxed about having women among their number than possibly any other vocation, but such an attitude is not fully shared by all members of the august academy in London which has the power to make or break an artist, but Zillah impresses me very much.’

  ‘She also impresses Tom,’ Talwyn said, as Amos turned away from the other two and made his way back to the house while Tom began to walk along the lane with Zillah, the gypsy girl leading her pony.

  Fully aware that senior police officers laid down strict rules about the company kept by their men, even to the extent of giving, or withholding permission for them to marry, approval not being given until full enquiries had been made into the suitability of the future bride, Verity said, ‘They make an interesting couple and I rather fancy the chief constable would look more favourably upon one of his officers courting an up-and-coming artist than a gypsy girl.’

  Walking along the lane with Zillah, Tom thought she was happier than he had ever known her to be but, of course, the first time they had met she had been concerned for her missing father and until today little had happened to cheer her.

  ‘Do you think Miss Pendleton really will speak to her friend about me and my drawings?’

  Despite first names being used by Talwyn when introducing them, Zillah had been slightly in awe of the Hawkes’ fashionably dressed and obviously well-bred guest.

  ‘If Verity says she will do something you can rely on it being done. She has been a great help to Amos and me on a couple of occasions.’

  ‘She is a beautiful woman, I am surprised she isn’t married.’

  ‘Verity is totally dedicated to her work. She and Miss Nightingale are determined to change the image of nursing … and they seem to be succeeding.’

  ‘Have you known her for very long?’

  Tom realized with a thrill that Zillah was surreptitiously trying to sound out whether there was a romantic link between himself and Verity. ‘I first met her only a short time ago, when she came to Cornwall in a bid to recruit suitable girls to train as Nightingale nurses. She was staying with Amos and Talwyn then. I agree with you that she’s not the type of woman you meet very often, but then I don’t move in the same social circles as Verity Pendleton. She has even met Queen Victoria on a couple of occasions I believe. It came about because of the excellent work she did nursing with Miss Nightingale during the Crimean War.’

  Zillah knew nothing of either Florence Nightingale or the Crimean War, but she knew about Queen Victoria and was suitably impressed. She was also satisfied that the huge social gulf separating Verity and Tom precluded any romantic link between them.

  ‘Dado would have been proud to know someone else likes my drawings. He always encouraged me to do more of them, saying that one day we would make a lot of money selling them.’

  ‘I’m quite sure you will. I’d be happy to buy one of them from you right now and I don’t doubt Amos and Talwyn would too.’

  ‘You’ll never have to give me money for any of my drawings, Tom, however well I do with them. Even if I become famous one day you’ll only have to say you liked one of them and I’ll give it to you. If it wasn’t for you, Miss Pendleton would never have seen any of my work and I would never have met her.’

  ‘I’m pleased she recognized your talents, Zillah, just as I did the very first time I saw your sketches, when they were with the photographs that were taken at Minions. You ought to paint a self-portrait, most artists do at some time or another. If you did that I would love to have it to keep.’

  They walked for a while without speaking before Tom said, ‘With Verity as your patron I’m sure you are going to become a very successful artist, Zillah, but I’m glad her artist friend is coming to live in Cornwall. It means you’re still going to be here … for a while, anyway. It means I should be able to see you sometimes … if you’re not too busy with your new life, of course.’

  He added the last
sentence hurriedly as she turned her head sharply to look at him but he was delighted when she said, ‘I’ll never be too busy to see you, no matter where I am, or what I’m doing. You’ve been kind to me at a time when I desperately needed someone, yet you’ve never given me a reason – an honest reason – why.’

  Encouraged by her gratitude, Tom said, ‘All the reasons I’ve given you have been honest ones, even if they haven’t said everything about the way I feel. If you really want to know, I find myself thinking about you on many occasions when I should be thinking about something else. If I leave the Bodmin police headquarters knowing I am going to meet you I’m as excited as a young boy setting out on a special treat but if I haven’t seen you for any length of time I’m thoroughly miserable.’

  Zillah was still looking at him and now she said, ‘You’ve never before said anything about the way you really feel towards me, only the way you should behave towards me because you’re a policeman. Why?’

  ‘Because you might have been offended and said you didn’t want to see me again. I just didn’t want to risk that happening.’

  Speaking quietly and seriously, Zillah said, ‘I wouldn’t have done either of those things, Tom, and I still wouldn’t.’

  They were out of view from the Hawkes’ house now and when he kissed her she responded with a passion that excited and aroused him in a manner he had never before known. It might have continued had the pony she was still holding on a rein not pulled her away in its bid to reach grass on the verge at the side of the lane.

  Regretting that the embrace had not lasted longer, Tom said shakily, ‘Will I see you again, Zillah … soon?’

  ‘I hope so, Tom. You know where I am living and I never go very far from the farm.’