‘I believe Will has an aunt living in Clavercote – let us see if he is prepared to extend his journey. And I promise you that a verbal acceptance is all that the Hansards will require.’
‘In that case I am obliged to them for their invitation to dinner, but I will return to my home afterwards, given the fullness of the moon.’
I had the doubtful pleasure of escorting Cornforth on a walking tour of the village until it was reasonable to suppose that the Clavercote wardens would have responded to their summons. Before he entered my study, on the pretext of tidying away the chaos of my desk, I checked that all the drawers and cupboards were locked. ‘Just in case,’ as Robert might have said.
Did Mrs Trent still need the lad’s assistance? No? In that case we could spend a few minutes not exactly playing cricket, given the holiness of the day, but discussing ways he might improve his game. Then he sped off to the Lost Cause to assist the archdeacon’s tiger harness his horses.
It weighed on my conscience that I had not told Cornforth about the keys to the Clavercote rectory. Should I? Would it be wise to invite him to join me in my proposed expedition – with Mrs Trent, of course – to investigate there? Or would his princely presence inflame anyone who saw him to the extent that even Mrs Trent would be unable to protect him – and us?
Knocking on the study door, something that felt decidedly odd in my own domain, I waited, just as, awaiting punishment, I was used to do outside my father’s study. It seemed that several minutes passed before Cornforth called to admit me.
I nodded to the three men, and took a seat uninvited. ‘Your discussions have been private – but is there anything you wish to tell me?’
‘What about?’ Boddice was not known for his subtlety, of course.
I became my father’s son in the face of his truculence. ‘Since I am not in the habit of listening at my own keyhole, I will have to leave that to you.’
Even Cornforth blinked. No one offered to respond to me.
I had the floor to myself. ‘We have an intolerable situation, do we not? No clergyman dare venture alone within the bounds of an ordinary English village. Surely that situation cannot prevail. But to stop any recurrence, do you not need to find out the cause of such disaffection? Mr Lawton, Mr Boddice – I suspect you know far more about the goings on than you have so far cared to reveal, to me at least.’
‘And what might you mean by that?’ Boddice demanded.
‘Not to wrap it up in clean linen, why are the villagers so angry? What will appease them, other than a brigade of the militia hanging a few of the menfolk as examples?’ There, I had said the word, even as I hoped and prayed such a solution might never be considered. I drew a breath. ‘More precisely, why did they hate Mr Coates?’
‘That is a strange assumption,’ the archdeacon said.
‘And you have another explanation?’
Lawton shifted. ‘’Tis true: he wasn’t well liked. Lived high on the hog, even in times of hardship for the rest of us.’
I noted his use of the past tense, and kept to it. ‘Did he never share his good fortune? Or if he did, was it with some families but not with others?’ That question certainly hit home. ‘And for any particular reason? Perhaps a member of the family was owed a particular debt? A daughter or a wife?’
Cornforth was on his feet, but not quickly enough to suggest the movement was spontaneous. ‘You are speaking of a clergyman, sir.’
‘As a fellow priest who has been caring for Coates’s flock, I am entitled to speak thus. How many weeks is it since a poor village girl drowned herself and her newborn babe? And since her own mother died of a broken heart?’
‘These are slanders, sir!’
‘But Mr Coates is not present to hear them, is he? No wonder he skipped abroad without warning anyone. It would have been he who faced the lynch mob, not me.’ It was as if I took a step back from myself and watched words emerging from my mouth unbidden. Because even as I uttered them a terrible thought was forming in my head. I dared not express it, even to myself. I must change the subject quickly. More quietly I asked, ‘Have either of you wardens chanced to visit the rectory since Mr Coates left for the Continent? No? Archdeacon, have you?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Why indeed?’ Belatedly I thought of Mrs Paten, and wished we had thought to suggest she took precautions for her safety. ‘I would have expected someone from the diocese to check the rectory from time to time to see that all was well – and that duty would probably have fallen in the first instance to the wardens. Do you have the keys to the rectory?’
‘Mr Coates would have taken them with him, sir. Wouldn’t he?’
‘Of course. Now, gentlemen, I see Mr Cornforth’s curricle is waiting for him and it would never do to let the horses get cold. Our dinner at Langley Park awaits, Archdeacon.’ I glued myself to the trio as I saw them off my premises, affording them no opportunity to speak to each other in private.
His hat and gloves in his hand, the archdeacon paused on the threshold. ‘I have just recalled that I have a previous engagement this evening. Present my compliments to Dr Hazard or whatever he calls himself and offer my apologies.’ Without a backward glance he strode to his curricle and set off at a spanking pace – only, to my delight and no doubt his chagrin, to have to find a convenient space to turn and head in the opposite direction.
Before I could go indoors and comment on this, with an unseemly chuckle, to Mrs Trent, I became aware that I was not alone. Mr Boddice was sidling up to me. ‘You are a good man, Mr Campion. I mean that. You will be safe in Clavercote: we will see to it.’ He shook my hand quickly, and returned to where Lawton was waiting with his horse.
In the expectation of entertaining the archdeacon, Mrs Hansard’s household had produced an elegant repast, not ostentatious, but certainly not frugal, one that Jem was delighted to partake of in lieu of Cornforth. Cribb had refused to be parted from him, trotting stubbornly after our horses as we left the village. It took a particularly meaty bone to stop him howling after Jem as he was confined to the scullery.
Our welcome was warm, and my account of the archdeacon’s visit occasioned a great deal of sardonic hilarity, particularly when I gave his version of our hosts’ name. My decision to reveal nothing of our plans was applauded, as was Boddice’s curious declaration – the only problem was whether I should believe him.
Edmund, too, had had visitors: Mr and Mrs Longstaff, of Taunton Lodge. Edmund liked new mothers to get out and about as soon as they were able, opining that a change of scene would do much to combat the blue devils that afflicted so many ladies who had been confined. They had brought with them an invitation to dine, with another enclosed for me, since the poet did not recall my address: if only it had rhymed. The good news was that mother and babe flourished. They had remained no more than five minutes, which would have met with Edmund’s medical if not social approval had not the inspiration for another canto precipitated their retreat.
I had already promised Mrs Trent that I would return betimes: I did not want my household to be on their own. Jem, approving the notion, invited himself and Cribb along too, to the huge delight of Robert, who thought he would make a wonderful guard dog – ‘Just in case, sir.’
Once again Cribb was quick to resent relegation to the scullery, howling and whining until Jem and I, enjoying a glass of ale before a welcome fire, were ready to curse him. But the noise stopped abruptly: this brought us both swiftly to our feet. Then I bethought myself: sure enough, the reason lay in Robert, now firmly wrapped round the animal, and asleep with an expression of bliss on his face. ‘I have an idea we shall be adding to our household,’ I whispered. ‘Perhaps if he had a dog to call his own we could persuade him to sleep indoors.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
His schoolmaster’s duties calling him, Jem left early next morning, accompanied by Cribb, whose loyalties were now clearly divided. A hint of frost dusted the grass, although the day promised fair. To Mrs Trent’s embarrassme
nt, I lingered in the warmth of the kitchen, helping myself to one of her newly baked rolls.
‘I do not want to put you in any danger,’ I said. ‘And I am unhappy that you may be breaking the law.’
‘Lord bless you, as if I cared for that.’
‘But I do. And accordingly I am going to speak to Lord Hasbury, as our local Justice, to tell him what I plan. But I will keep your name from him. All he will know is that I am still trying to discover Coates’s whereabouts and believe the rectory will yield evidence. Pray do not argue.’ I added with a smile, ‘I do not wish to give the archdeacon an excuse to have me defrocked.’
‘He will if he sees you eating those rolls in here like any heathen. Get into the breakfast room, Master Toby, do, like a decent Christian.’
Dressed, to my shame, in my gentleman’s finery, I naturally arrived far too early at Orebury House. But I sent word to Walker to announce my presence and to crave a word. He greeted me in the servants’ hall with the news that my father was closeted with Lord Hasbury’s secretary, Mr Beresford. Walker himself would be required shortly, as my father planned to take another airing.
‘Excellent! I could accompany him.’
Walker shook his head delicately. ‘I think not, Master Toby. There is a … a lady … involved. I tell myself a little light flirtation will improve his spirits, which are sadly low. But I am sure that he will wish to see you first.’
‘I would not wish to incommode the young lady by keeping her waiting!’
‘Do you suppose that would weigh with His Lordship? If it is you he wants to speak to, wait she must. And, to be fair, if it was her company preferred, you might, to use the common parlance, go hang.’
‘Quite. Now, my old friend, before my father rings for you, tell me – did you pick up any useful gossip?’
‘I was not wholly successful. As to the matter of the servant, Sally, I have observed her as closely as one might, without appearing particular in one’s attentions, and I suspect that she is in fact two girls. At a given time – it is the same time, but by no means every day – they change clothes and they change roles. So one of the Sallys has to be working not too far away – too far to walk, perhaps, but not too far if she is given a ride on a farm cart, for example.’ Encouraged by my appreciative smile, he continued, ‘The nearest house big enough to require a maid is Coryton Place. The lady living there is said to enjoy but poor health, and does not venture into society, so you are probably not acquainted. Perhaps the second Sally finds life tedious there.’
‘Have you discovered the name of this lady?’
‘A Miss Witheridge. I heard tell that she is very quiet and ladylike in her ways. She has a young relative to stay from time to time.’
‘I may have met him.’ Mr Will Snowdon!
‘Beg pardon, but when you spoke of her reputation, to what were you alluding?’
‘There is a rumour – I was wrong even to repeat it. Forgive me.’ My smile was penitent but my heart sang in triumph. At last I might face Mr Snowdon with my accusations. ‘And did you discover our lovers’ trysting place?’
‘Not yet, but – ah, that is my master’s bell, Master Toby. Do you care to accompany me?’
I nodded. ‘I will await his pleasure in the dressing room.’
‘Dashed waste of everyone’s time!’ my father greeted me, throwing a pile of letters into the air. It would not be he who had to bend to pick them up. ‘No one’s ever heard of the fellow. Not a single ambassador, not a single consul. Whatever were you thinking of?’
‘I was thinking, sir, of getting exactly this response.’ While he spluttered his disapproval, I gathered up half a dozen of the offending letters. Having toyed with the notion of putting them on a convenient table, I decided to keep them in my hands. ‘I came to disbelieve the rumour that Mr Coates was on the Continent. I now believe that the corpse we found – this was when you were unwell, sir, so you may not recollect – is his. May I show these to Hasbury, in his capacity as Justice?’ I gathered a few more. With his stick he guided the rest towards me. ‘I am very grateful for your help, sir: thank you.’ More to the point I was grateful to Beresford for his undoubted industry – he must have despatched upwards of a score of beautifully written enquiries.
He nodded absently. ‘Properly dressed, I see. All the same, my boy, next time you’re in Town, take yourself to my tailor, will you? And get Walker to see to those boots, for goodness’ sake!’ He turned to the looking glass, touching his cravat with apparent irritation. Any moment now he would rip it off and demand Walker bring another fresh neckcloth.
It was time to make my escape.
‘Search the rectory?’ Hasbury repeated in disbelief.
‘Thanks to the efforts of Mr Beresford, it is clear that Mr Coates never reached any of the destinations to which he might have been heading. My contention is that, in fact, Mr Coates never left Clavercote but was slain there. He might even have been hurt within the rectory itself. That is why I wish to look round. I propose to take with me Dr Hansard, and, as an impartial witness, Dr Toone.’ Should I have mentioned Mrs Trent?
‘What about the churchwardens?’ Hasbury was capable of surprising me. ‘Would they not have an interest?’
‘If we find anything of note, be assured, sir, that they will be informed immediately.’
My plan went awry the moment we approached Clavercote. Mr Lawton, taking the air in an old-fashioned gig pulled by a fat cob, hailed us. I made the introductions with as much aplomb as I could manage.
‘I reckon I know what you’re up to – and I’m minded to join you. In fact, I might make it easier for you. I could see that archdeacon would fly up into the boughs if I said a word out of place, so I said nothing. I – I happen to have a set of keys to the rectory, sir.’
I coughed. ‘It happens that we do not need them, Mr Lawton.’ I gave the briefest of explanations.
He raised an eyebrow but did not appear to disapprove. ‘I can see why you men might want to look, but why the devil is Mrs Trent here?’
She faced him, arms akimbo. ‘You reckon a man would know anything about a house being left in a hurry, Thomas Lawton? You ask your wife about that.’
Toone said smoothly, ‘Mrs Trent is here, you see, as I am, as an expert witness.’
We all made our way to the rectory, the grounds of which were already showing signs of neglect.
‘He should have kept his gardener on,’ Lawton muttered, as I unlocked the front door. ‘And what about that housekeeper of his? Telling her to leave? She’d not have let the place smell damp and miserable like this.’
No one argued. At first using the candle ready on the hall table, then opening blinds and curtains as we progressed, we found nothing to indicate that the house had been put to bed, as Mrs Trent put it, for its master’s prolonged absence. A book lay here, a pen lay beside an inkwell there. A bundle of dirty laundry in the scullery awaited the laundrywoman. The kitchen was clean and tidy but not, as Mrs Trent said, properly scrubbed down.
The upstairs smelt of stale clothes: someone, Mrs Paten no doubt, had stripped the bed and left the blankets neatly folded, but no airing was possible with the windows and shutters tightly closed. Mrs Trent flung them open. Then she turned her attention to the clothes presses.
She turned to us. ‘Gentlemen, how many clothes would you take for a long stay abroad? And which ones? Here are all his smalls, his shirts … Here his evening clothes. All his shoes. I wonder where he kept his valises … In a box room or in the attic?’
Toone drifted off, and summoned us within a moment. ‘Here – a whole row of cases, from small grips to trunks, in ascending order. No gaps in the row at all.’
‘In other words, had Coates been intending to take a journey, he meant to buy absolutely all his necessities en route,’ Hansard said.
‘Would a man even buy shaving things? Tooth powder?’ Mrs Trent asked rhetorically. ‘They are still on his dressing stand.’
For a moment, we all stood in silence.
It was Lawton who broke it. ‘Looks bad, doesn’t it?’ He asked casually, ‘Did Mrs Paten happen to describe the clergyman who brought her the news.’
‘No,’ came my emphatic reply. ‘It was quite dark, remember. Now, before we report to Lord Hasbury, I would like to see if Mr Coates ever had his likeness done. Did anyone notice one?’
‘Yes. It’s over the fireplace in the dining room,’ Mrs Trent said, leading the way downstairs. ‘And a very fine thing it is. It makes him look very grand.’
‘So it does,’ Toone agreed, striding across the room and reaching it down. ‘I think Lord Hasbury might be interested in this – do you not, Hansard?’ He added, very quietly, with a meaningful smile, ‘But not perhaps as interested as my distinguished colleague.’
That, as two of us knew, was Maria, who had caught Coates in a very similar pose. Her portrait, of course, lacked a face.
‘Did you mean what you said, Dr Campion, about being alongside the killers – provided they confessed their crime and were penitent – all the way to the scaffold?’ Lawton asked, drawing me on one side as the others made their way out of the building. As if he expected me to need time to reflect, he turned the key in the rusting lock, pushing against the door to make sure it was secure.
‘I did. God loves us all, remember, whatever sins we have committed.’ I hoped I sounded calmer than I felt. I had never seen a man die except naturally, in his bed. To accompany one to the moment of death, no doubt a young man in his prime, probably with a wife and children – did I really have the moral strength to do that?
‘Thank you, Parson. Like Boddice said, you’re a good man and you’ll be safe here whenever you come. You have my word.’ He extended his hand. For the first time in the whole of our acquaintance I was happy to shake it.
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