Capturing Sir Dunnicliffe (The Star Elite Series)

by Rebecca King

  “A few days ago,” Simon said, staring in horror at Hugo as the realisation dawned that Romilla’s spite may well have run so deep that she would resort to murder.

  “Have you changed your will yet?”

  “Yes, yesterday.”

  “Does Romilla know you were going to do it then?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I didn’t tell her because it has nothing to do with her, and I am not in the habit of explaining to my stepdaughter what I am going to do. I have changed it, though,” Simon explained, frowning down at the floor. Had Romilla had the opportunity to go down to the kitchens to poison the pie? He made a mental note to ask Cook if Romilla had been anywhere near the kitchens on the day the pies were made.

  “Who inherits if Harriett dies?” Hugo asked, casting an apologetic glance at Harriett.

  “It is split up and passed on to my distant relations. Romilla doesn’t get anything. My original will doesn’t mention her, and as she is six and twenty, she has no right to receive any bequest.”

  “So that leaves who? The spy smugglers, who may have hoped I would eat some of the pie eventually. Mrs Partridge, even if you ignore the fact that she had no reason to want to kill Harriett. You Simon, and Romilla. Anyone else?” Hugo asked, casting Simon and Harriett a questioning glance.

  “Can’t think of anyone,” Simon shook his head, watching Harriett, who looked equally as blank.

  “Me either.”

  Hugo heaved a sigh.

  “I’ll ask Mrs Partridge a few questions, see if I can get to the bottom of why she really came to see me yesterday,” Harriett said decisively, when everyone had lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

  “You will do no such thing,” Hugo snorted. “I mean it, Harriett. You aren’t to do anything until my colleagues get here. I’ll apprise them of the situation and then we can decide what to do. They have been doing some more work on trying to locate the spy smugglers, and may have more detailed information that might shed new light on the matter. Until then, none of us,” his stern gaze included Simon, “are to do anything at all that will give any hint that we suspect anyone in particular.”

  “Well, now that I know you are safe, I will take my leave. I take it you are going to remain here for a few days?” Simon asked, rising to move to the edge of the bed.

  “No,” Harriett replied, shaking her head warily. “I am going home.”

  “You need to stay here and recuperate a little,” Hugo argued, beginning to lose his patience with her stubbornness.

  “I feel fine, just a little weak, and a bit sore around the stomach. I have already had something to eat and that has settled. There is no reason for me to clutter up the doctor’s house.”

  “You won’t be. Harriett, you were seriously ill. You will not go anywhere for the next couple of days.” He held up a hand when Harriett took a breath to argue, and heaved a sigh of frustration. “You have terrified the locals enough, and will not scare them even further by walking through the streets looking as pale as you do. You need to recuperate and get some rest before you go anywhere.”

  Harriett slumped back on the bed with a sigh of frustration. If she was honest, she was feeling far more tired than she should be for having spent the morning in bed. Smothering a yawn, she tucked her legs back under the sheets and lay back down with a sigh.

  She jerked when Hugo appeared beside her and sat down on the bed.

  “Promise me that you won’t take any risks, Harriett,” he murmured softly, easing a curl away from her face. “At the moment we don’t know who the pie was intended for. It could be me, but it could be you. Don’t do anything that can give them an opportunity to get at you again. I’ll check your food before you get it, so don’t eat any food gifts, or drink anything that tastes or smells strange.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” Harriett replied, stunned by his tender concern. She had never expected him to show such affection for her.

  Their eyes met and held as silence settled between them. She watched in amazement as Hugo lifted her hand in his and gently kissed the back of it, before placing it carefully back on the sheets.

  “I’ll check on you later,” he promised, leaving a bemused Harriett watching him as he left.

  He decided to take advantage of Harriett being incapacitated and do a bit of preliminary investigating. A quick check on the remnants of the pie was the place to begin, and he left the quiet of the doctor’s residence, said goodbye to Simon, and headed down the hill toward the harbour.

  He briefly contemplated fetching his horse from the inn, but as it was a nice, sunny day, he decided to walk instead and get a rough idea of the layout of the village. Besides, it was nice to enjoy the sunshine and the gentle sea breeze on his face.

  Having obtained Harriett’s key from one of the villagers earlier that morning, he took a circuitous route around the small house, arriving at the rear of the property. Cool green eyes scanned every nook, beneath every hedge and around every corner for any sign he was being followed, or under any threat, but he could detect nothing untoward.

  Within minutes he was standing beside Harriett’s kitchen table. From the look of the place, some of the village women had been very busy. Although the house hadn’t been dirty in the first place, it now positively glistened with polish. The strong scent of beeswax hung in the undisturbed air. A small vase of flowers sat in the middle of the table, waiting for the mistress to return. It had a homely feel that made him want to slip off his boots and take a seat.

  Giving himself a mental shake, he walked to stand before the pie. It was undisturbed except for the missing piece that Harriett had cut to eat. Rather than touch it with his fingers, he dipped his head and sniffed cautiously. He could smell the tangy scent of the apple, and something else that was vaguely earthy.

  There was nothing else for it. Briefly touching the apple mix, he looked at the sticky apple and juice on his finger cautiously and sniffed it again before carefully tasting it with the very tip of his tongue. A faintly bitter taste invaded his mouth and, with the memory of what had happened to Harriett still raw, he immediately spat the sticky mixture out. He could faintly taste the bitter aftertaste Harriett had reported, and knew now why she had been so poorly.

  The earthy taste was distinctly like mushrooms. Hugo didn’t know much about cooking, but he did know that some mushrooms could be very dangerous, even lethal, to the unsuspecting person who ate poisonous ones.

  Unfortunately, knowing what type of poison was used didn’t put him anywhere closer to finding the would-be killer. Anyone who knew a bit about mushrooms could have picked a poisonous one, and mashed it up enough to put some into the apple mix. All it would take was a quantity small enough to be invisible, but large enough to pose a significant problem to her health and wellbeing.

  It also raised the question of how the mushroom – poison – could have been put into the pie while it was in Harriett’s house. Except for a small hole in the middle of the pie that had been made by Cook before it was baked, there was no clear way of getting a dose of poison into the pie without disturbing the pastry. Was that hole big enough to fit a small dose of poison in at speed? Harriett had taken a bite out of the narrowest end of the pie – exactly where he had tasted the poison. Curiously he dipped another finger into the apple mixture nearest the crust of the pastry and sniffed it. Again, he could smell the tangy apple. Heaving a sigh, he touched the mixture with his tongue but could detect nothing but apples. There was no earthy aftertaste.

  Although it appeared that the poison had been added to the pie through the hole in the middle made by Cook, that didn’t mean the poisoner was the Cook, or Mrs Partridge and he was left no nearer to finding out just who the poisoner was.

  That left him with several more questions. Was the poisoning of the apple pie meant for him? Or had someone deliberately targeted Harriett? If so, were they trying to make her ill, or kill her? Yes, she had been seriously ill and, during the long night, they had thought that she might not make it. But had th
at been a mistake? Had someone intended just to make her life uncomfortable? It didn’t seem likely, but it was a possibility he couldn’t ignore.

  Immediately his thoughts turned to Romilla. Although he hadn’t met her yet, Hugo had heard enough to know she could be disgruntled enough to seek spiteful vengeance. But was she a murderer in the making?

  Having checked the rest of the cottage, he found that the mess he had made in Harriett’s workroom had been cleaned, the beds neatly made and, unless he was mistaken, the sheets washed. The floors had been scrubbed and everything polished to within an inch of its life – he felt that he daren’t touch anything in case he left finger marks on it. Even the fireplace had been neatly laid, ready for the fire to be lit.

  Shaking his head, he quietly left the cottage and searched Harriett’s neatly tended gardens for any sign of anything disturbed, but found nothing other than a few broken branches on the bushes at the end of the garden, where Harriett said she thought she had seen someone lurking.

  Was that someone the would-be murderer, watching to see if their poison had worked? It didn’t seem likely that they would enter the cottage unnoticed, while Harriett was in the garden, poison the pie and sneak back out again without either Hugo or Harrold noticing from inside either.

  If the poisoner was the same person who had tried to kill Hugo, they were very inept. If it was, missing the intended target once was bad enough, but twice would make them even more determined that on the third attempt, they wouldn’t fail.

  He turned and headed back toward the village, nodding to several villagers who hailed him, and putting his hand up in a casual wave to several who were too far away. Everyone he passed made a point of acknowledging him with cheery enthusiasm, which left him slightly surprised, but delighted for Harriett.

  Having only spent a brief time in Padstow before, he decided to scout the area and mentally map the roads. It was something he had learned to do during the time he had been working for the Star Elite – always make certain of your escape route. He had no idea if the murderer was still in the area, but wasn’t prepared to be caught out. It had nearly happened in Port Isaac, and it wasn’t going to happen here, in Padstow.

  It was mid-afternoon by the time he found himself standing at the wall of the back yard to Joshua’s house. Eyeing the curtained window of the bedroom, he decided to check on Harriett again, just to make sure she was all right. Although he had stayed last night, he couldn’t impose on Joshua’s generous hospitality tonight, and was going to stay at the cottage until Harriett was well enough to join him. He just had to tell Harriett that.

  His knock at the front door had remained unanswered, so he decided to go around to the back door in the hope that Marion would let him in. He frowned when he lifted the latch of the gate, only to find it locked. He scowled at the wall for a moment before glancing up and down the empty road. He took several steps back and, with a grunt, hefted himself up and over the top, only to curse when he landed on the ground. It wasn’t Joshua’s yard as he had hoped, but another smaller yard belonging to one of the neighbouring houses; the wall on the opposite side of the yard was the one that led to Joshua’s house.

  Being as tall as he was, he could see over the top of the wall without having to heave himself up, and was about to climb over that too, when the gate at the opposite end of the yard suddenly opened. It was so quiet, so swift, that at first Hugo missed it opening. It was only the black figure of a man appearing at the side of his vision that made him pause. Instinctively he melted back toward the brickwork to stand still and silent, and watch.

  He didn’t know what made him stop and watch, but there was something suspicious about Joshua’s furtive movements, and his instincts warned him to pay close attention.

  Joshua looked down thoughtfully at a small disc in his hand before folding it carefully in a kerchief and tucking it into his cloak pocket. But, rather than carry the cloak into the house, he tucked it under a pile of old boxes heaped haphazardly next to the gate, covering it with a box. He then brushed himself off, righted his jacket and slammed the gate shut, stalking toward the house as though he had just arrived.

  Hugo frowned and watched Joshua disappear into the house. He wished some of the shutters downstairs were closed, and he could be certain Joshua wasn’t able to see him climb back over the wall, but he certainly couldn’t stay where he was. Even he would look suspicious if he kept clambering over garden walls, but he needed to get out of there, preferably the way he came, and that meant climbing the high wall again.

  Moments later he was brushing himself off as he walked down the narrow road toward the harbour, a dark scowl on his face. He knew one place that had to be investigated at the first opportunity; he just had to wait for Joshua to go out first.

  As he approached the harbour, the scent of pasties wafting on the air reminded him that he had only eaten a small piece of toast hours earlier and was starving. Unable to resist the promise of delicious food, he purchased a large pie, and moved to sit on a rough wooden bench facing the sea to enjoy his treat.

  The taste of turnips, meat and gravy exploded in his mouth. It was all he could do not to groan at the delicious-tasting feast, and he jumped when Simon sat down beside him, holding a pasty of his own.

  “Hugo.”

  “Simon.” Hugo acknowledged the man with a brisk nod. They munched their pasties in wary silence, staring out at the fishing boats in the harbour for several long moments while the villagers bustled around them, going about their daily business.

  “What do you know about the doctor?” Hugo asked, swallowing the last of his pie. He settled back against the seat with a sigh. It would have been lovely to sit and simply enjoy easy companionship and delicious food with an acquaintance, if it wasn’t for the looming spectre of a would-be murderer standing between them, making the silence distinctly awkward.

  Simon glanced at him and swallowed his mouthful before twisting his lips ruefully.

  “Not a lot, I am afraid.”

  Hugo glanced at him swiftly. “He hasn’t been here long?”

  “Oh no, only a few weeks,” Simon replied, finishing the last of his own pie and scrunching the paper up into a tight ball. “The old doctor disappeared practically overnight. Joshua is the nephew or something, and came to take his uncle’s place within the village.”

  Hugo thought about the strange comment Joshua had made on the night of Harriett’s poisoning. He hadn’t referred to the previous doctor as his uncle, just ‘the doctor at the time’. Hugo pushed the clue to one side to analyze later, and turned his attention back to the man beside him.

  “Have you seen Harriett today?”

  “I went round earlier, but Marion said she was sleeping, so I plan to go there now,” Simon replied, quirking a brow at Hugo. “Are you coming?”

  “In a minute. I want to ask you a few questions first,” Hugo said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and stare down at his feet.

  “Go right ahead,” Simon replied, clearly going nowhere while Hugo needed his help.

  “Is Marion new to the village too?” Hugo asked quietly, turning his gaze to the fishing boats bobbing about in the harbour.

  “Yes, I don’t think she is related to anyone here, and moved in about the same time as Joshua. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason,” Hugo replied nonchalantly, not willing to reveal his suspicions to anyone until he had more information.

  “Are there any villagers that you know of who would have enough of a grudge against Harriett to try to make her life uncomfortable?” Hugo asked, glancing around the seemingly tranquil little village. Was there a viper in the bosom of this little community? Somehow he rather thought there was, but the identity of the viper had yet to be revealed.

  “No,” Simon replied confidently. “The wives who had husbands sentenced to gaol for a long time have mostly moved on. The wives whose husbands were released from prison are here. The husbands are too grateful to have been given a second chance to provid
e for their families to risk being put behind bars again or, worse, hung.”

  Hugo nodded wisely. It didn’t seem possible that anyone would be that venomous. So, did that mean that a French agent had been trying to get him? Had his presence in Harriett’s cottage brought about an attempt on her life that was meant for him?

  His thoughts turned once more to the man beside him.

  “Tell me something, Simon. Why would a man willingly remain apart from his daughter for five and twenty years?” Hugo’s voice was calm as he asked the question that he knew could prod Simon’s temper.

  Simon stared at him for several long moments. “You have been thorough,” he murmured softly. “Or has Harriett been confiding in you?”

  “Would it matter if she had?” Hugo glanced at him, but could see nothing but stoic acceptance at his probing questions.

  “Not a bit of it. But I hope you will give me the opportunity to explain before you judge. There is a lot that even Harriett doesn’t know.”

  Hugo leaned back in the seat and waited. He heard Simon’s sigh and wondered if the man was going to try to put him off by suggesting they meet another time. It surprised him when Simon started to talk.

  “You will know that I had an affair with Harriett’s mother, Helena, while I was married. It wasn’t intended, and I don’t regret it. Regardless of what the gossips say, I adored Helena. My biggest regret was that I wasn’t in a position to be able to marry her. Unfortunately at the time, I had inherited the estate and several tin mines from my father, and they were in deep trouble. My wife’s family sank a lot of money into the Manor to keep it going while I worked on turning the tin mines around to pay them back. But that left me indebted to my wife and her family, and meant that I wasn’t in a position to be able to divorce my wife, Estelle, without losing everything. Estelle found out about the affair and threatened to ruin everything if I didn’t sever all ties with Helena. But I couldn’t, and eventually Helena found out she was carrying Harriett. I was overjoyed, and vowed to stick by them both as best I could. I worked doubly hard at the mines trying to turn them around so I could divorce Estelle.”