by Speer, Flora
“Exactly,” Cadwallon said, patting her shoulder in an obvious attempt to comfort her. “My wife, Janet, keeps any potentially dangerous herbal preparations locked up, just as Lady Benedicta does. There’s nothing unusual in the fact, and no one ever checks on the lady of the castle to discover what she’s doing with those potions. I would cheerfully trust Janet with my life and my soul. It’s my belief that Lady Benedicta cannot be similarly trusted.”
“But we have no proof,” Elaine objected. “Without absolute proof, we cannot accuse a noblewoman of murder, not here on Jersey, nor before King Henry in Caen.”
“Somewhere in this manor proof exists,” Desmond spoke up. “We only have to find it.”
“Yes, well, we’ve been saying that for days,” Cadwallon grumbled, glaring into his wine cup.
“If you will permit me, my lord,” said Ewan, as he bent forward to refill his master’s empty cup, “you did say you’d welcome my opinion. I think we ought to ask Jean if he knows anything pertinent.”
“We can’t bring him into this,” Elaine protested. “Anything Jean learns can put him into danger.”
“He’s already in danger,” Desmond reminded her. “Jean is the one who told me about Aglise’s affair with Lord Bertrand. He knows about the secret exit, too.
“Incidentally, I’ll wager that’s the way Aglise’s body was removed from the castle,” Desmond continued, his voice filling with excitement as he worked out the unpleasant details. “If it was done in the dead of night, when few souls are awake, it couldn’t have been too difficult to carry her through the door below the solar. Once outside the walls, it would be easy enough for Lord Bertrand to sling her linen-wrapped body across a horse’s back and take it to the cliff path under cover of darkness, then carry it down the path and into the cave at low tide. He did admit to being the person who buried Aglise.
“The sheet, of course, came from the castle linen room,” Desmond added. “Lady Benedicta, as chatelaine, could as easily cover the loss of a single sheet as she could the disappearance of dangerous herbs or a large quantity of poppy syrup.”
“Yes,” Elaine said. She tried not to think about Aglise’s body being roughly handled through a secret stairway and out onto the wind-blown cliffs. She much preferred to find a way to bring down her sister’s killer. “Lady Benedicta is always very precise about counting each and every piece of linen, but only she knows exactly how many sheets ought to be on the shelves in the linen room.
“This is so difficult,” Elaine said. She sat with her head bowed, fighting back tears, until Cadwallon handed her the wine cup. She drank deeply before continuing. “The image of Lady Benedicta coolly selecting a sheet and then wrapping poor Aglise in it is dreadful. I do hope it was a clean sheet; it would be just like her to use a dirty one. And I pray she did not go to the cave with Lord Bertrand, to help him bury his victim.”
“Ah, Elaine, stop, I beg you.” Unexpectedly, Desmond’s arm was around her shoulders, drawing her close. “This is too hard for you.”
“Not as hard as Aglise’s death must have been for her.” Elaine straightened her shoulders, shrugging off his arm. “My sister did not deserve to die over an unwise affair. Honest remorse and a severe penance she did deserve, but she never had the chance to find redemption and forgiveness. Lady Benedicta stole the opportunity from her. I want that murdering woman brought to justice.
“I want Lord Bertrand punished, too. By his own admission, he knew what had been done to Aglise and he buried the evidence. Then he let me, and everyone else at Warden’s Manor or in Gorey village who cared about Aglise, worry and search for her for weeks – for two long months! And he never said a word.”
“Why?” Ewan asked when Elaine paused for breath. “If Lord Bertrand cared about Lady Aglise, as he must have done if he was her lover, then why didn’t he accuse Lady Benedicta publicly and have her punished? It’s what I’d do if I loved a girl.”
“Ah, lad, you are young yet,” said Cadwallon. “You haven’t considered all of the ramifications of this crime. I don’t doubt Lord Bertrand cared for Aglise, but he cares more for his honor than for any person. If he accused his wife of murder, her crime would reflect upon him. Besides, he didn’t want his own misdeeds publicly known. He had seduced a noble girl who was under his protection as his foster daughter. That’s an offense very close to incest.”
“Oh.” Ewan nodded his understanding. “I can guess what Lord Royce will do to him when he finds out.”
“No wonder he was so angry to learn I had written to Royce,” Elaine said. “And no wonder he was so eager for you men to leave Jersey. He must have known if you learned Aglise was dead, you wouldn’t go until you had solved the mystery.”
“It wasn’t much of a mystery,” Cadwallon said. “Once Desmond heard the rumors about Aglise’s affair, it was clear that either her lover, or his wife, had killed her. Still, I do wonder.”
“Wonder what?” Elaine asked. “As you said, the identity of the killer is clear. Or, were you wondering how we can find the proof we need? Perhaps we can face Lady Benedicta down until she confesses, as Lord Bertrand did.”
“How warm do you judge Lady Benedicta’s marriage to be?” Desmond asked, the sudden question surprising Elaine and making Cadwallon raise his eyebrows.
“Not warm at all, I’d say,” Ewan put in. “Not with Lady Benedicta as the wife. She chills my blood just to look at her.”
“I tell you, lad, you are much younger than your age,” Cadwallon said. “Some men like the challenge of warming a cold woman. I’ll explain it to you sometime, when I’m not otherwise occupied.”
“Elaine?” Desmond persisted. “Do you have an answer to my question? It’s important.”
“I never thought much about their marriage,” she said. “Husband and wife appear to respect each other, though that cannot be true, can it? Not if Lord Bertrand cared so little for Lady Benedicta’s feelings that he took a mistress. It’s something my father never would have done, even though my mother was far from a good wife to him. I know it’s not unusual for noblemen to have mistresses, but still, Lord Bertrand is so stern and righteous a man, and he’s well known for his fierceness in war. I was surprised when he admitted how he longed for tenderness and sought it in Aglise. I suppose, considering what we know now, his marriage was far from happy. It’s not sufficient excuse for what he did, but it does provide some explanation.”
“What are you getting at, Desmond?” Cadwallon asked. “I trust you have a good reason for subjecting Elaine to this discussion. You can’t believe someone other than Lady Benedicta killed Aglise?”
“I do not doubt for a moment that Lady Benedicta is the killer,” Desmond said. “What I am trying to determine is, exactly why she did it.”
“We know why,” Ewan said. “She wanted to remove her husband’s lover. Forgive me if I distress you, Lady Elaine, but that’s the bald truth of it.”
“Perhaps,” Desmond said. “Then again, perhaps Lady Benedicta had another reason for committing murder, something beyond a wife’s jealousy.”
“Ah, now, that’s enough,” Cadwallon began in a warning tone. “Think of Elaine’s feelings, if you please.”
“No, wait.” Elaine held up a hand to stop him. “Desmond, you are trying to uncover the proof we need, aren’t you?”
“Just so,” he said. “If there was a second reason for the murder, a reason behind the obvious one, and if we can discover what it was, then we may also find the proof.
“Consider this.” He leaned toward Elaine and took her hand in his. “Lord Bertrand himself said his marriage was a relationship of cool respect and what he saw in Aglise was the warmth and sweetness and joy he couldn’t find elsewhere in his life. Since he obviously yearned for those qualities, I must ask why he couldn’t find them in his marriage.”
“Because it was a marriage arranged by their families for material advantage, with little regard for the preferences of the two people most involved,” Cadwallon said. “Desmond,
surely you’ve noticed the lords and ladies at the royal court? Admittedly, most of them are far more frivolous than Lady Benedicta, but I’ve seen little evidence of love, or even of mild affection between those noble husbands and wives. I consider myself fortunate to have married for love.”
“You are fortunate, indeed,” Desmond remarked coolly. “But, tell me, Cadwallon, if those noble folk don’t care about their spouses, why should any of the wives be jealous enough to commit murder against a husband’s mistress? The answer is, they don’t. It almost never happens. Husbands occasionally dispose of wives whom they believe have dishonored them; wives take a different view.”
Elaine stared at him, considering the implications of his remarks.
“Lady Benedicta has an unusually cool and precise nature, not at all warm-blooded, as Elaine and Ewan have just pointed out,” Desmond said. “Her cool character makes me wonder how she could become angry enough to kill anyone, for any reason at all?”
“She couldn’t,” Elaine declared, feeling excitement rising, certain Desmond was on the right trail. “I’ve known Lady Benedicta since I was a child, and I have been in her company daily for more than two years. Never have I seen her in a fury. Irritated, yes, when someone misplaces a piece of linen, or doesn’t mend a sheet properly, or disturbs the birds in her dovecot, or enters the stillroom without her permission, but never really angry. She has scolded me for all of those offenses, but she uses words, not blows, and she is always well controlled. It’s as though real, scorching anger is beneath her dignity.
“That’s why the servants all fear her. They expect to be hit, and when it doesn’t happen, when she just lashes out at them with cold and scathing accusations of wrongdoing, somehow it’s worse than a beating that’s quickly over and done with.”
“The two of you are suggesting there had to be a cold and very logical reason for her to kill Aglise,” Cadwallon said. “It does make sense. But, what can the reason be? What could possibly be important enough to justify ending a young woman’s life?”
“She cannot have feared that Lord Bertrand planned to set her aside and marry Aglise,” Desmond said. “Lady Benedicta has given him two sons, so Holy Church wouldn’t accept any reason he might offer for ending the marriage. Therefore, her noble rank and position are secure. Given her cold nature, it’s unlikely she has committed adultery.”
“I’ve heard no whisper of unfaithfulness on her part,” Elaine noted. “Nor have I ever seen her bestow unusual favor on any man. Still -” She frowned, remembering.
“What?” Desmond asked. “If you know anything you haven’t told us yet; even if you merely suspect something, speak up and do it now. I don’t have to remind you how important this is. You are no longer protecting your sister.”
“Please,” Cadwallon urged her gently. “We want justice
e for Aglise, too. Help us, Elaine.”
“Very well, though it may be nothing,” she said with a sigh. “Just before Aglise disappeared, she seemed to be hiding something.” There, it was out at last, and Elaine prayed she hadn’t made a mistake in telling them.
“What something?” Desmond demanded.
“Let her take her time,” Cadwallon said, continuing the same kind treatment he had extended to Elaine throughout their discussion. “Let her think it through and then speak. She won’t fail us.”
“By then,” Elaine said, “I suspected Aglise of having an affair, and I feared it might be with Lord Bertrand. But I wasn’t entirely certain. As I’ve already told you, I had no proof, so I held my tongue. The idea of Lord Bertrand as her lover was too horrible to consider. I was remarkably naive in those days. Only two months ago; how far in the past it seems now.
“Aglise was excited. Several times I thought she was on the verge of revealing whatever she knew, but she held back. I didn’t want to hear about an affair, no matter who the man was, so I made no effort to pry the details from her. I wish now that I had pleaded with her to talk to me, and continued to press the matter until she did speak. Perhaps, if I had, she’d still be alive.”
“You say she was excited,” Desmond said, his words breaking through Elaine’s pensive sadness. “What kind of excitement was it?”
“Desmond, in heaven’s name, how could she know such a thing?” Cadwallon sounded so much like an overly protective brother that Elaine smiled at him.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I know what Desmond means and I understand what he’s trying to do. It was the I-have-a-secret-and-you-can’t-guess-what-it-is kind of excitement, like a child who has learned something only the grownups are supposed to know and who is taking great delight in the knowledge. Perhaps, it was something she had overheard or learned by accident. Whatever it was, she was hugging the secret to herself and gloating over it. I had the most peculiar impression that it was something to do with Lady Benedicta.
“All this time, ever since Aglise disappeared,” Elaine continued, “I’ve been trying so hard not to think about that. I told myself it was because I hated to think of her involved in a scandalous affair. Then, after she was gone, Lady Benedicta persisted in accusing her of having run off with a lover and I felt compelled to defend her, so, I didn’t think more closely about the meaning behind Aglise’s odd behavior.
“One frightening possibility has only now occurred to me; do you suppose Lady Benedicta was trying to distract me with her accusations, just in case I did know what Aglise’s secret was?”
“I’d say it’s very likely, although, since you haven’t said anything on the subject, she probably realizes you don’t know the secret,” Desmond told her. “A few moments ago, you mentioned a dovecot and you spoke of the birds as belonging to Lady Benedicta.”
“So they do. The dovecot is in the courtyard, not far from the mews where Lord Bertrand keeps his hunting falcons. One of the servants who’s assigned to the mews, also cleans the dovecot regularly. Occasionally, when meat supplies are low toward the end of winter, we eat some of the birds. But mostly, they are Lady Benedicta’s pets and her particular charges, like the linen room and the stillroom.
“I never could understand,” Elaine went on, “why a woman as fastidious as Lady Benedicta would care so much for those messy birds. I hate the dovecot, with all the feathers floating about and the droppings on the floor. Ugh! It’s even worse than the mews. Going into the dovecot always made me cough and sneeze violently. I was glad when Lady Benedicta ordered me to stay away. She said I disturbed her precious birds.”
“Pigeons?” Desmond asked, looking at Cadwallon.
“Why, yes, there are some pigeons,” Elaine answered. “But mostly doves.”
“There’s not much difference between the two,” Desmond said. “A dovecot is a perfect place to conceal pigeons.”
“Why would anyone want to hide pigeons?” Elaine asked with a little laugh. “They are common enough, especially in Gorey village, though the seagulls do tend to drive them inland.”
“Pigeons can be trained to carry messages,” Desmond said.
“Surely not. They’re only birds.”
“A message can be written on a tiny piece of parchment,” Desmond explained. “The parchment is rolled very small and placed into a tube that’s attached to the bird’s leg. Then the bird is sent aloft, to fly home and deliver the message.”
“To whom?” Elaine asked, looking from one man to the other. “And why?”
“Well,” said Cadwallon, “I’ve known such messages to be sent in time of war, to provide warning of an attack, for instance.”
Elaine sat quietly for a time. Desmond watched her, almost convinced he could see the working of her mind by the expression on her face. He didn’t think it would take her long to reach the answers she sought.
“I suppose the secret messages are sent in code,” she said. “Perhaps, in a code that shortens the message to a few words or numbers, so large sheets of parchment aren’t required.”
“Clever girl,” Cadwallon said in unconcealed admiration of her qui
ck wits.
“I may be clever about how the messages are sent,” Elaine retorted. “I still don’t understand why anyone would need to send a secret message from Jersey. To where? And to whom?” She stopped abruptly, puzzling through the possibilities.
“Oh, no,” she gasped. “You don’t imagine-? No, I won’t say it. My brain is reeling. I cannot make sense of all this, except that, if Aglise understood more than I do of what you are hinting, the knowledge was certainly dangerous to her. Was it dangerous enough to cause her death?”
To Elaine’s intense embarrassment, at that moment she loosed a huge yawn. She simply couldn’t help herself. It was as though her mind had absorbed all it could tolerate for one day. All three males looked at her in open sympathy.
“You are exhausted and you still haven’t eaten much,” Desmond said. “Thank heaven, the worst of this unhappy day is over. Elaine, my dear, you need to rest and we all need to consider how to proceed next.”
“Yes.” Elaine paused to yawn again. “I think I will go to my room. I’ll sleep for a while, and then I’ll pack my belongings. But, Desmond, promise you won’t act without me. If you learn anything new, come and tell me, no matter how late the hour. I will likely be awake, preparing to leave tomorrow.”
“I promise. And for your own protection, I want you to promise to be careful not to let Lady Benedicta know we’ve guessed some of her secrets.”
“I will be careful.” Elaine yawned again.
Desmond stood and helped her to her feet. Cadwallon rose, too, and the two of them and Ewan watched her walk across the hall with dragging feet and bowed head, as if she was deep in thought. Desmond believed she was too tired to think much at all.