Matthew was on his feet, drawing out a chair for her. She accepted it gracefully, as though gallantry was her due.
‘I’d like to ask you some questions, if you don’t object.’ A look of alarm leapt into her fine brown eyes, and he added quickly, ‘I intend no harm, I assure you. And I’m willing to pay for information.’
‘What is it you want to know?’
‘The man you were with last night – will you tell me when you met him, and when he left you?’
‘Are you a jack?’ she demanded suspiciously, the look of innocence quite gone now.
‘No, not the police, nothing like that. It’s purely for myself I want to know. You won’t get into any trouble.’
‘How much is it worth to you?’
‘A finny.’ Matthew knew five pounds was about right. He mustn’t overdo it and frighten her off. ‘If I’m satisfied you’re telling me the truth,’ he added warningly.
She hesitated, very tempted. ‘He won’t find out?’
‘Never, on my word of honour!’
She lifted her slender shoulders in a shrug. ‘What’s it matter, anyway? The gent picked me up in here about nine-thirty. He bought me supper, and then we went on to Georgie’s place. After that—’ she paused and sipped her port wine, ‘—after that we went home, where else?’
‘And what time did he leave you?’
‘Hard to say! No, wait a bit, he had to catch the early train at five-fifteen in the morning. A toff, he was, not tight-fisted. I hope he don’t get into any trouble through this.’
‘On the contrary,’ Matthew replied. ‘What you’ve just told me has got him out of trouble.’
When he left the place she accompanied him, clinging to his arm. With a saucy grin, she explained, “They’d get the wrong idea, else, and that wouldn’t do my reputation no good! You sure you don’t want to come home with me? You’ve paid enough.’
‘No, I haven’t time.’
‘Pity!’
He left her at the corner of the street, then stopped to make a small purchase, and caught the next train back to Bythorpe.
* * *
A few minutes after Matthew had entered the Cafe Regal, two young men had come in together to dine. As they sat down Dr Bernard Mottram glanced around with raised eyebrows.
‘So this is the sort of place you frequent! Really, Freddie, I’m surprised at you.’
Frederick Waterton, his friend from medical school and a pleasant-looking young man, like Bernard himself, grinned amiably.
‘Time was, I seem to recall, when you were not so puritanical ! But I’ll have you know that I come here for the food. Believe it or not, it’s the best to be had in town. And the naughty ladies can always be ogled from a distance, without danger of entanglement.’
‘So I should hope, considering you’re within an inch of becoming engaged to be married!’
Looking up from the menu, Freddie asked, ‘And how does your own affaire de coeur progress?’
‘Alas, it doesn’t progress! Unlike you, my well-breeched friend, I have to make my way in the world before I can think of marriage.’
The waiter came and they ordered grilled sole and a bottle of hock, with roast ribs of beef to follow.
‘Isn’t it about time you took over from Dr Eade?’ Freddie went on presently. ‘You do most of the work, by all accounts, so why not insist on getting your just rewards?’
Bernard shook his head. ‘Paget Eade has been very good to me. I’d never have been launched on a medical career without his backing. But in any case there can be no question of my marrying Emma while Cathy Hardaker still lives. Emma is her devoted companion, and nurse, too, when necessary, and she would never think of abandoning the poor girl.’
‘This is your young patient with pulmonary phthisis, isn’t it? What’s the prognosis?’
‘Very bad! If we have a severe winter she’ll almost certainly be carried off before it’s over.’
‘And then your Emma would be free.’
Bernard frowned, displeased. ‘That’s a crude way of putting it, Freddie.’
‘I’d never have said such a thing, my dear fellow, if I weren’t positive you’d do everything in your power to save the girl. I suppose there’s nothing – a sea voyage, or one of those Black Forest sanatoria? I imagine Mr Hardaker would readily foot the bill if you suggested something on those lines?’
‘Good Lord, yes! But Cathy’s too far gone, both lungs are seriously affected. Her mother died the same way, you know.’
Frederick sighed. ‘If only there were more we could do for such patients. One day, I suppose, we’ll find a way of conquering the damnable scourge.’ He drank some wine, then, as he turned and glanced across the room, his eyes sparkled. ‘Now there’s a peach of a girl, Bernard! That one in blue, with the magnificent bosom. She’s enough to make any man cast discretion to the winds, eh?’
Bernard followed the direction of his friend’s gaze, but his glance went past the girl to the man whose arm she held so possessively. He continued to watch until they had disappeared through the swing doors to the foyer.
‘Well, well! Do you know who that was, Freddie? The man, I mean.’
‘No, should I?’
‘His name is Matthew Sutcliffe, and he’s just arrived back from Australia, where he was transported many years ago for manslaughter. His victim, in fact, was Emma’s father,’
‘So that’s Matthew Sutcliffe! Made his fortune in gold, so I hear.’ Freddie chuckled. ‘It looks as if the chap’s bent on spending some of it now – and I could think of worse ways.’
Bernard made no reply. The waiter brought the fish, and they began to enjoy their meal.
Chapter Eleven
In the soft radiance of a waning moon the pedlar’s cart pulled off the road on to the verge of grass and bracken. It was an odd looking vehicle on two huge wheels, the boat-shaped body roofed by a tattered sheet of tarpaulin slung over a centre ridgepole. The driver heaved himself down and unhitched the weary old horse from the shafts, tethering it to forage for itself. Half an hour later the blackcock he’d poached from the moorside was plucked and drawn and simmering in the pot. By God, it smelled good! The man laughed aloud, and scratched the skin beneath his thick curly black beard. ‘T’would taste all the better for being nicked! Squatting by the fire, he gazed with slitted eyes at the long spread of the Brackle Valley below him. The pallid moonlight was enough to show him the mill buildings distinctly; added to since he remembered, the tall furnace chimney casting a slender finger of shadow across the river. He licked his thick red lips in crafty anticipation. Play it clever, careful like, he thought, and your fortune’s made, Johnny me lad!
When he had eaten he rolled himself into a blanket and stretched out on a bed of bracken. Lighting his stubby clay pipe with a twig from the fire, he settled down to enjoy the stillness of the fragrant night. The moon slipped silently across the unclouded sky, promising a fine day tomorrow.
* * *
Cathy had passed another good night, and with the continued improvement in her condition Emma felt able to contemplate a change of scene from the sickroom. As soon as she and Nelly has attended to the morning routine, sponging Cathy’s chest and back with cold water as prescribed by Bernard, changing the bed linen and otherwise making the invalid comfortable, Emma went downstairs for breakfast. Randolph and Chloe were already seated at the table when she entered the room.
‘Good morning, uncle. Good morning. Aunt Chloe. I apologise for being late.’
‘We are only too glad you are able to join us at all, my dear Emma,’ said Randolph, pouring cream on his porridge. ‘I was relieved to see Cathy looking quite a bit better last evening. The little lass has been so poorly of late that I feared her time had come. But happily it now seems that she’ll be with us a while longer.’ He shook his head despondently. ‘I wish to God there was something that could be done to save her.’
His sister gave a heavy sigh. ‘Alas, there’s nothing. Bernard has made that clear. All
we can do is to try and make her last days as contented as possible.’
‘And we can rely on Emma for that.’ Randolph smiled across the table at her. ‘Your care and devotion doesn’t go unappreciated, my dear. Neither by Cathy, nor by your aunt and myself. We are all deeply grateful to you.’
Chloe nodded her grudging agreement. She would gladly, Emma knew, share the work of nursing Cathy if only Cathy herself would permit it. But there was something about Aunt Chloe which inhibited her nieces from really liking her, perhaps because she sought affection too forcefully and, failing to get the desired response, her manner became resentful and brusque.
While Randolph helped himself to a pair of kippered herrings from the hot plate on the sideboard, Chloe refilled his capacious willow-pattern cup. ‘The conversation drifted on in a desultory fashion until Chloe startled Emma by enquiring, ‘Did you find anything of interest in your mother’s deed box?’
Emma was bereft of words, and Randolph too looked surprised. ‘I overheard you asking your uncle for the key the other evening,’ Chloe explained.
With a thudding heart Emma gave the answer she had carefully rehearsed for Uncle Randolph, in case he should ask the very same question.
‘I didn’t need the key after all, as it happened. The box was unlocked all the time. I glanced through what was there, but I didn’t find anything of particular interest.’ She had admitted nothing, neither the realisation that the deed box had been forced open, nor that a package of papers had been removed. She felt confident that Matthew, who for some unexplained reason seemed not to believe Uncle Randolph was responsible, would approve of the tactful way she had handled the situation.
‘To my mind,’ Chloe observed censoriously, ‘it is very morbid of you wanting to rake up the past like that. I said as much to Jane, and she agreed with me.’
‘You spoke about it to Aunt Jane?’ Emma gasped. ‘But why, when?’
‘And why shouldn’t I mention it to Jane, pray? It was when I went to supper at High Banks the other evening. Blanche professed she understood how you felt, but Jane and Paget were of my opinion.’ ,
Randolph, wiping his mouth with a napkin, remarked ironically that it was a change for him to be in agreement with Jane and Paget for once. Then, rising from his chair, he said, ‘Well, I must be off,’ and departed. His whole attitude was so normal, he seemed so undisturbed about the deed box, that Emma wondered if perhaps Matthew was right after all. But if so, the question came back, who else could be responsible?
Towards the end of the morning, when Chloe was paying a brief duty visit to her invalid niece, Nelly brought a message that Mr Sutcliffe had called.
‘Again!’ Chloe frowned her displeasure. ‘Very well, Emma, we will go downstairs together and see what it is Mr Sutcliffe wants this time.’
Matthew was waiting in the drawing-room, clad in formal clothes, as yesterday, and holding a small basket in his hand. He bowed as the two of them entered.
‘Good morning, Mr Sutcliffe,’ Chloe greeted him coldly, ‘I am surprised that you should honour us with a second call after such a short interval.’
‘Forgive me if I intrude, but when I was in Wyke yesterday evening I purchased some hothouse peaches. It occurred to me that Miss Cathy might enjoy them, and I have brought them without delay while they are still at their best.’
Chloe took the basket, only partly mollified. ‘Well, it was kind of you to have spared a thought for the poor child.’
‘How is Miss Cathy today?’
‘The improvement continues, I’m glad to say,’ Emma put in quickly. She met Matthew’s eyes for an instant, conveying in her glance that it was an impossible situation, that he shouldn’t have come. Then chance intervened and gave them an opportunity to exchange a few private words.
Old Brigg the gardener appeared just outside one of the tall windows and began hacking at the ivy which grew profusely on the wall. Chloe, exclaiming in horror that the clumsy fool was trampling all over her larkspur, dashed across the room, flung up the sash, and started an angry altercation with the man.
Matthew took a couple of strides towards Emma, and whispered, ‘I have been making some enquiries, and I can tell you this quite positively – whoever broke into that deed box, it was not your uncle.’
Emma felt a wave of thankfulness surge over her. ‘How did you discover that? How can you be so sure?’
‘I’m afraid I cannot tell you,’ he said.
Emma bit her lip, feeling snubbed; then her swirling thoughts took shape, and she gasped, ‘Blanche must have done it!’
‘Blanche? But why should she?’
‘You have been questioning her about her husband, haven’t you? Perhaps, afterwards, she realised the significance of what she had told you, and wanted to prevent the chance of any further evidence against Uncle William coming to light.’
‘That’s possible, I suppose. Bui when would she have had an opportunity to get at the deed box?’
‘She was here yesterday morning, visiting Cathy. I thought it rather odd at the time – Aunt Blanche hasn’t shown much concern for her before. She said she had a little gift of sweetmeats for Cathy and left the room to fetch them from her gig. But she was gone for ages, and when she returned she said she’d been chatting to Aunt Chloe. She could easily have slipped up to the attic in the time.’
Before Matthew could answer, Chloe slammed down the window.
‘That Brigg is an oaf! If it were up to me, he’d be dismissed.’ She directed a meaningful glance at Matthew. ‘Well now, Mr Sutcliffe, I’m afraid that my niece and I must return upstairs to our invalid.’
‘I quite understand, Miss Hardaker. I will take my leave of you.’
Giving Emma a stern signal to remain where she was, Chloe herself showed Matthew out. When she returned to the drawing-room, she closed the door carefully.
‘Emma, that man must not be encouraged.’
‘Encouraged, Aunt Chloe? How have I encouraged Mr Sutcliffe?’
‘You must have done for him to call two days running. And you were seen walking with him in the village the other day.’
‘But that was merely a chance encounter, at the library.’
‘So I should hope, indeed!’
‘Aunt Chloe, I don’t see why you are suddenly so against Mr Sutcliffe. It was only the other day that I was ordered to meet him and make myself pleasant to him.’
‘But now you have gone too far! I’ve not yet spoken to your uncle on the matter, but I have no doubt he will be as disapproving as I am of the free association that has developed between the two of you. It is most improper and must cease.’ Pausing, she added with a limp smile, ‘You have no mother to guide you, child, so you must listen to those who have your good at heart.’
Emma returned to her cousin’s room in a mutinous frame of mind, but the routine task of helping Cathy practise her deep breathing exercises had a somewhat calming effect. Even so, she found it difficult to be normally civil to Bernard when he called to see his patient shortly before dinner. Afterwards, as Emma was accompanying him downstairs, he said, ‘You seem rather out of sorts today. Has something upset you?’
‘I have had a tiff with Aunt Chloe, that’s all.’
He gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sure she has little cause to find fault with you, Emma.’
Her anger gained ascendancy over discretion. ‘It really is too absurd! Aunt Chloe gave me a severe lecture just because Mr Sutcliffe has called here twice – to ask after Cathy. That, and the fact that I happened to meet him in the library last week and we strolled part of the way home together.’
Bernard’s clear, hazel eyes were troubled. ‘Yes, I’ve heard about that.’
‘Good heavens, is it all over the village? Can I not take a few steps in a man’s company without everyone gossiping?’
‘It is not a man, I think, but that particular man to whom your aunt objects. And can you wonder at it, Emma, the man being who he is?’
‘I was instructed by Uncle
Randolph,’ she said in a dangerous voice, ‘that old enmities cannot be kept up for ever. That when a man has paid the price for his crime, he must be accepted back into decent society. Always assuming, of course, that he was guilty in the first place, about which there must be room for doubt.’
There was a small pause, then Bernard said bleakly, ‘I see that you have greatly changed your tune about Sutcliffe. But I beg you, I implore you to treat him with no more than the minimum of courtesy. Do not allow yourself to become .,. involved with him. Believe me, he is not a man of whom you could ever approve if you knew him better.’
‘What makes you say that?’ she challenged.
Bernard looked embarrassed. ‘I happen to know it. There is no possible doubt, I’m afraid.’
She fingered the smooth cabochon brooch at her throat while she struggled to conceal her agitation. What was it concerning Matthew that Bernard was so reluctant to explain, she wondered desolately. Could it be something to do with Blanche? Had Bernard some knowledge of a liaison between the two of them?’
Returning slowly to Cathy’s room, stair by stair as if facing a daunting climb, she wished she had not told Bernard about her clash with Aunt Chloe. The alacrity with which she had sprung to Matthew’s defence must have betrayed her sympathy for him ... deeper feelings than she had been aware of until this moment. But the sudden searing pain in her heart could not be ignored. Emma rebuked herself sternly, how foolish to become emotionally entangled in the question of whether or not Matthew Sutcliffe was a wronged man. All she had ever intended was to keep an open mind; to stifle her natural prejudice against him and give him the chance of proving his innocence. If he was innocent.
* * *
‘Cathy, I thought I might go for a ride this afternoon.’ Emma looked hopefully at her cousin, who was sitting up in a chair by the open window, wrapped in a shawl, with a fleecy rug across her knees and a footstool at her feet. ‘Will it be all right if I leave you for a little while? I could get Nelly to sit with you, if you like.’
The Other Cathy Page 12