It had occurred to me that Jane might have money, and might have intended to get to Worcester where she could hire a coach. I mentioned it to Childers, who had grown thoughtful throughout the afternoon. When we stopped to drink from our costrels and allow the horses some rest, he spoke up.
‘I fear we are wasting our efforts, sir. If those girls have fled their home, for whatever reason, then they would be most careful to avoid discovery. They could even be in hiding, awaiting nightfall.’
‘It’s possible,’ I allowed.
We were on the riverbank, just below the bend where the Teme flows into the Severn, with the rooftops of Powick just visible on the far side. I had thought of venturing there, though it seemed an unlikely destination, and doubtless Cobbett would have considered it. We had seen nothing of the man himself, all day.
‘Or, might they have crossed the water?’
He was gazing at the river, scanning the far bank. During the day we had encountered men fishing, but they could tell us nothing. As for Dan Tait: we had stopped at the crossing, but though his boat was moored, he was nowhere to be seen.
‘They would have needed help,’ I said, thinking of my encounter with the ferryman the day before. But I dismissed the notion: Tait would never dare to involve himself with Giles Cobbett’s runaway daughters. More likely he would inform on them at once, in hopes of gaining favour from their father.
On a sudden, Childers yawned; it had been a long day, and he was unused to hard riding. I glanced up; the sun was waning, and it looked as if there was nothing more to be done, but to ride back to the crossing and await the rest of my party.
‘We’d best go,’ I said.
Somewhat low in spirits, we remounted and headed downriver again, walking the tired horses. Tait’s crossing was little more than a mile off, and we were there within the quarter hour to find my servants already waiting.
As I expected they were empty-handed, and had found no trace of the runaways.
***
We returned to Thirldon, where I left the men to take supper and spend the rest of the evening as they pleased. Childers and I supped late with Hester, who was astonished at my news. Knowing she would ask my reason for taking a party to Ebbfield in the first place, I was obliged to give her a brief account of all that had occurred. Seeing how tired and dispirited we both were, she passed no comment.
Yet my own thoughts were in disarray: how should I act, given the new circumstances? Though I knew there had to be good reason for Jane Cobbett and her sister to flee their home, I could hardly confront their father at such a time. In this humour, I at last went to my bed. I had a vague notion of riding to Boyd on the morrow to see if, between us, we could come at some solution. Then I recalled that it would be the Sabbath, which afforded me one small relief: I would sleep late, and hang the consequences.
However, the night was far from over.
I awoke in pitch darkness, hearing the door open. I assumed it was Hester, until I made out the figure of Childers in his night-robe, holding a candle. As I sat up, he called out.
‘Your pardon, sir, but you had better rise and come down.’
‘What in God’s name…?’ I began, then paused. Through the open window came sounds: hooves, and the clink of harness.
‘There’s a cart,’ Childers said. ‘We have visitors.’
I dressed hurriedly, growing aware of voices and footsteps on the stairs; some of the servants were up. When I emerged from my chamber, I found Hester waiting in her russet night-gown. Together we descended, following Childers through the doors and out into the night air. In the courtyard, where lanterns had been lit, stood a covered cart with two horses stamping and blowing in the shafts. A man I did not recognise was holding the nearside horse, speaking low to calm it. As I looked around, Elkins the groom, a cape thrown over his night-shirt, came walking towards me.
‘They won’t come out, sir,’ he said, frowning. ‘They ask for you, and no-one else.’
‘What do you mean?’ I demanded. ‘Who won’t come out?’
‘The girls.’ He gestured towards the cart. ‘They’re afraid… can you assure them they will come to no harm?’
For a moment I failed to understand. But Hester gave a start, and clutched my arm instinctively.
‘Girls…?’ I gazed at Elkins, who held out a lantern - and as I took it, realisation struck me. I pointed to the man with the horses. ‘Who’s that?’
‘He drove the cart in, sir,’ Elkins answered. ‘Woke me up… by the time I came out of the stable he was down on the cobbles. He doesn’t say much.’
‘Does he not?’ I said. ‘We’ll see.’
Holding the lantern aloft, I walked directly to the cart-driver, who turned at my approach. I was on the point of demanding an explanation, but decided it must wait: his passengers were more important. So I walked to the rear of the wagon, lifted the flap… and froze.
Two faces peered out, blinking in the lantern’s glow: Jane and Alison Cobbett, huddled together, wrapped in cloaks. At sight of me they started, then:
‘Master Belstrang…’ Jane gave vent to a sigh, of mingled relief and exhaustion. ‘I pray you, give us sanctuary. We ask you to help us – or if need be, we will beg.’
And she broke into tears, whereupon her sister did the same.
SEVENTEEN
There was no question of speaking with the runaway girls that night. They were brought into the house and given a chamber together, the beds hastily prepared. Hester attended them herself, assuring them that they could remain there as long as they liked, taking breakfast in the room if they desired. Meanwhile, she said, the Justice would inform their father they were safe – but at that, Jane had flown into a panic.
‘But he must not!’ She had cried. ‘Not until I explain - will you ask his promise to wait until then?’
It was done. Hester brought the request to me as I returned to bed and I agreed, if with misgivings. Thereafter, Thirldon slept until the sun was up. When I arose it was with some unease, along with much curiosity: why had the Cobbett girls chosen to come to me?
After breakfast I ventured outdoors, to find that the cart was gone. At once, I sought out Elkins.
‘The fellow drove off, sir, soon after I went back to bed,’ he said. ‘By the time I came out he was away. Didn’t even water the horses. I did offer him a pallet, but he wouldn’t stay.’
‘Did he not say anything?’ I asked.
‘Only that he was hired to make a delivery of goods, and his work was done.’
I sighed, thinking that I must have slept most soundly not to hear the cart rattle away. But then, it was of little importance: what mattered was to speak with my new charges, to whom I appeared to have given sanctuary. It was mid-day before the opportunity arrived - but when at last it did, it would occasion both amazement and dismay.
The first surprise was that, all the time we had been searching for the runaways, they had been in hiding at a house in Worcester. And when I asked who had hidden them, the answer came as a shock: Parson Thomas Woollard.
‘We went to him for two reasons,’ Jane said, sitting quietly in my private parlour. ‘Firstly, because I believed the Kempsey parsonage was the last place my father would look. And secondly, because I knew I could force Woollard to help us.’
I heard her in silence, as did Hester and Childers, who were seated close by. The sisters sat side by side, calmer now and rested, though both looked pale and taut. Alison said not a word, nor had she from the moment of their arrival.
‘He fears my father, but he fears the law even more,’ Jane went on. ‘As he knows I have knowledge enough to lose him his living – perhaps even his freedom.’
She bit her lip, seemingly unwilling to say more. I exchanged looks with Hester; it was only three days since Boyd and I had caught Woolland at the inn, with a girl young enough to be his grand-daughter.
‘In truth, I know something of the parson’s ways,’ I told her, as kindly as I could. ‘You need not fear to accuse hi
m.’
‘Accuse him?’ Jane echoed. ‘I did not dare, sir… but then, he could not be sure of my silence. Which is why, when I roused him and told him what I wanted, he made the arrangements.’
‘And what were those?’
‘To convey us to Worcester before the night was done, in secret. Then, as soon as the gates were open, to take us somewhere in the city where we could wait out the day. After that, to get us here to Thirldon…’ the girl sighed. ‘It was the only place I could think of – you were the only person I could think of, sir, who might offer the sanctuary we need.’
‘I’m flattered,’ I said. ‘And I do offer it. I suppose, since you knew a search would be mounted, you waited until the middle of the night to complete your journey?’
‘In truth, we hoped to come here at dusk,’ Jane answered. ‘But the carter was very late. I thought Woolland had betrayed us… we were mortally afraid, waiting by the road. We knew not whom to trust.’
I glanced at Hester and Childers, who were as attentive as I was. I had a score of questions, but reined in my impatience.
‘So, the parson himself took you to Worcester,’ Hester said.
Jane nodded. ‘On his horse, we two riding together. He borrowed a mule for himself from somewhere, and led us there by dark, our heads covered. But we met no-one, and by early morning we were in the city, where he knew someone who would shelter us for the day and keep it secret.’ She threw a glance at her sister, who still made no sound.
‘Who is this person?’ I demanded. And when she hesitated, I was obliged to be firm. ‘See now, I swear you have nothing to fear – not from me, Mistress Hester or John Childers, who have my absolute trust. But if you desire my help, I need you to tell me everything. Can you not do so?’
A moment passed, then: ‘She’s an old woman, who keeps a certain kind of house,’ Jane said, lowering her eyes. ‘There are many rooms there. We were given one below the eaves, and a little food, and told not to come out again until fetched.’
I tensed: at last, I had the picture. ‘Were you left alone, until it was time to leave?’ I asked, somewhat sharply.
She hesitated again, then uttered words that surprised us further. ‘You need not trouble to spare my feelings, Master Belstrang, for I know what a bawdy house is. Yet we were not molested. And I was not surprised to see how familiar Parson Woolland was with the place… nor how well he seemed to know the woman whose house it was.’
I looked at Childers, who shook his head, eyes downcast.
‘You said you knew enough to threaten the parson,’ I said. ‘While visiting such places would perhaps ruin him if it were known, I don’t see how-’
‘They were children!’
It was Alison who spoke, startling everyone, her voice shrill. ‘She kept maids - some my age, even younger,’ she cried, looking round angrily at the company. ‘We saw them, peering round doors when we left. One looked no more than seven or eight years old!’
She turned to her sister, who kept silent, then faced me. ‘You speak of Woolland being in fear? Well, so are we both, sir. And if it were in my power, I would kill him myself!’
Whereupon, giving way to a flood of tears, she jumped to her feet and ran from the room, banging the door behind her. I thought Jane would follow, but before she could rise Hester stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘I will go to her,’ she said. ‘You can help by telling Master Belstrang all that you know – will you do so?’
The girl gave a nod. With a sigh she watched Hester leave, then turned her sad eyes upon me.
‘Ask me what you like, sir,’ she said quietly. ‘For I fear I’ve neither the strength nor the will to keep these secrets any longer. But in the matter of Parson Woollard, it is too late to deal him the justice he deserves. He has fled, perhaps to London, perhaps even further. He swore we would never see him again - which is one blessing, at least.’
Whereupon, having taken a drink of weak ale, she at last told her story – which chills me now, as I think on it.
***
Susanna, being the eldest, had been the first to suffer. Even before her mother died, she was the victim of her father’s lustful attentions in secret. It had gone on for years, until she was old enough to protest, by which time Jane too knew what went on behind the locked door of her sister’s chamber. Yet they were afraid to speak – even to their mother.
‘To this day, I do not know how much my mother knew,’ Jane said, biting back tears. ‘But she became ill, growing weaker by the day until at last she could not leave her bed. Then she died, and all the while my father had his way, growing bolder. Until the day came when he learned of Howell, and his night-time visits.’
She shook her head. ‘Father is a cruel man, yet I never saw him so angry as the day he found out. I believe he could have slain Howell.’ She sighed. ‘And now that he’s dead…’
‘You think your father killed him?’ I broke in, unable to keep the question back.
‘I cannot know. He could have got someone else…’ on a sudden, her face hardened. ‘Abel Humphreys, for one. That varlet… he would have been glad to do it.’
‘Will you say more of Humphreys?’ I asked. ‘For I’m most curious to know-’ I stopped, jolted by a new notion. Once again, I pictured Humphreys and Cobbett that day at the graveside. I looked at Childers, who was aghast, then back at Jane. ‘Was he also a party to your father’s wicked practices?’ I asked – to which, her expression was answer enough.
‘Not merely landlord and tenant, but brothers in lust.’ Jane met my eye, her face taut with bitterness. ‘He would cross the river by Tait’s boat and come to Ebbfield some nights, to share Susanna as if she wore a whore. And he way he looked at me…’ She paused, then: ‘It was but a matter of time. I never told anyone until now. It feels as if a yoke is being lifted.’
For a while after that I was speechless. It was past dinner-time, yet I had no appetite; nor did Childers. But when I suggested to Jane that we cease our discourse for a while and walk in the gardens, she shook her head. There was an urgency upon her to finish her testimony, now she had begun. Later, she said, she would go to her sister. And hence, what could I do but let her continue?
‘She would tell me everything… Susanna, I mean,’ Jane said. ‘After our mother died, we began to make plans to run away. She knew that, as I was now becoming a woman too, father would turn his attentions to me – and to Alison, in time. She couldn’t bear that. When she and Howell began to keep tryst, they would plot her escape, along with mine and Alison’s.’ She thought for a moment. ‘If you wish, I will go back to last year, to the time when Eliza Dowling came to Ebbfield.’
At mention of that name I would have spoken, but quickly she stayed me. ‘She did us no real harm. Yet she was our turnkey, brought in by my father to watch us. She knew what he did, but she would never go against him…’ the hard look returned. ‘In the end, she’s a fool. He promised he would marry her, make her the new mistress of Ebbfield - but he had no such intent.’
‘Will you speak of what came later?’ I asked, reining in my anger. ‘The time leading up to Susanna’s death?’
At that, Jane became distressed; but again, she showed a strength that almost shamed me. ‘I will, Master Justice,’ she answered. ‘For I come to the worst tragedy of all, that is still to be uncovered…’ she drew a breath. ‘And yet, it may be that you are the man who will see it through.’
I said nothing, only waited for her to continue. But when she did, it was all I could do not to exclaim aloud.
‘I can tell you now why Susanna’s body was not examined before the inquest,’ Jane said, keeping her voice steady. ‘For if it had been, it would be known that she was with child.’
I gave a start, my mind leaping ahead – but quickly she shook her head. ‘It was not Howell’s. How could it be, when they could only speak in haste, at a window? Now you begin to understand, I think.’
I was still, my eyes on her face; I had no words. That was how Ch
ilders and I heard the last part of her tale, sitting silently in my chamber, deaf to all else but her soft voice.
‘It’s what brought matters to the nub,’ Jane said, her eyes downcast. ‘And that’s how, at last, Susanna found the courage to stand up to our father. That night is as fresh in my mind as it if it were but an hour ago: how she fought him, screaming and crying, and how he shouted and railed at her in turn. Alison and I were locked in our chambers – by Dowling, of course – but we listened. We listened until we heard doors bang, then all was quiet.’
She looked up at me, her face pinched with emotion. ‘I believed Susanna had fled from the house, how I do not know. All I know is that we never saw her again. And given where she was found, I fear they might even have taken her there.’
‘They might have taken her?’ I echoed.
‘My father and Humphreys… did I not say that he too was there, that night?’
I stared at her, while several things fell into place: Dan Tait speaking of two men who used his boat… like a fool, I had not pressed him to tell who the other was, besides Cobbett. Ned Berritt’s report of men by the Witching Pool, and the discovery of the girl’s body next morning. Then I thought of Standish, and his apparent eagerness to bring about a suicide verdict – as he had done again in the matter of Howell Rhys. I recalled the father’s face of anguish, and the promise I had made him.
I let out a sigh: at last, I believed I had my conspiracy. Had I been alone, I might have cried out in triumph.
‘You poor girl… what wickedness you have suffered.’
It was Childers, regarding Jane in dismay. I could not recall seeing him shed a tear, but likely this was as close as he came. For her part, the girl merely returned his gaze.
‘I believe I’ve told you all I can, Master Justice,’ she said, turning to me.
The Witching Pool: A Justice Belstrang Mystery (Justice Belstrang Mysteries Book 2) Page 13