by Dilly Court
Eleanor nodded wearily. ‘This is the first time your father and I have been separated since we were married. I don’t know how he will manage on his own.’
‘He has Cora to take care of him, and you will be able to regain your health and strength at the seaside.’
‘I haven’t seen Isabel for ten years,’ Eleanor said, sighing. ‘I hope we still have something in common, as I believe she is childless. She can never know or understand a mother’s feelings.’
Rose nodded silently. She could see that this was going to be a long journey, and she made herself as comfortable as possible as the carriage rattled and jolted its way out of the city. As it picked up speed the rhythmic clattering of the great iron wheels over the points had a hypnotic effect, and soon Eleanor was nodding off, leaving Rose alone with her thoughts.
It was early afternoon when they arrived in Axminster where Rose had planned to take a horse-drawn omnibus to Lyme Regis, but Isabel had sent her carriage to pick them up and they travelled the last five or six miles in style. Even so, Eleanor was pale and exhausted by the time they reached their final destination.
Beehive Cottage was situated on a clifftop overlooking Lyme Bay, and for a moment Rose forgot everything in the sheer delight of breathing the salt-laden air as she took in the view. The sun shone from a cloudless azure sky, its brilliance reflected in the ever-changing colours of the sea. White-crested waves danced and tumbled onto the shore and seagulls soared overhead, mewing and crying like souls in distress. Rose was enchanted and had almost forgotten why she had travelled so far from home, but a cry from the front door of the cottage brought her back to earth with a jolt. She turned to see her godmother running down the path with outstretched arms.
Eleanor, showing the first signs of liveliness for months, seemed to forget her invalid state and hurried to meet her old friend. They hugged and then held each other at arm’s length, laughing like excited schoolgirls. Rose stood back, allowing them time to greet each other while she studied her surroundings. The cottage, which to her mind was far too grand to have such a humble title, was round like a honeypot, but that was where its resemblance to a beehive ended. Sunlight glanced off the white stucco walls and was reflected in the small windowpanes, giving the house the appearance of being alive with light. The Gothic windows added to the eccentric design, and each one curved into an ogee arch. It was an odd building, set in a typically English cottage garden with flowerbeds overflowing with hyacinths, tulips and narcissi. Their heavenly perfume mingled with the scent of newly cut grass and the briny smell of the sea. Rose took deep breaths, feeling quite drunk as the clean air filled her lungs.
‘Come into the house, Rose,’ Isabel called from the front door. ‘It might be sunny, but there’s a cool breeze.’
Rose followed them indoors, leaving the coachman to bring their luggage.
‘I’ll show you your rooms,’ Isabel said, smiling, ‘and then we’ll take tea in the parlour.’
‘That would be delightful.’ Eleanor gazed round the entrance hall with a rapt expression. ‘You have a lovely home, Isabel.’
‘Thank you, my dear. It suits me well enough.’ Isabel signalled to a housemaid. ‘Tabitha, you may take the cases to the guest rooms.’ She turned to her friend with a worried frown. ‘Can you manage the stairs, Eleanor? If not I could have a bed made up for you in the music room.’
‘I’m not an invalid, Isabel. I am a little tired after such a long journey, but I feel quite invigorated by the change of scene. I didn’t realise how much I missed living in the countryside.’
‘My dear, I understand exactly,’ Isabel said, linking her arm through Eleanor’s. ‘We’ll soon bring the colour back to your cheeks, and we’ll have time for lovely long talks about the old days.’ She glanced over her shoulder as she led Eleanor up the stairs. ‘I hope we won’t bore you too much, Rose, but your mama and I have known each other since we were children.’
‘I think it’s splendid,’ Rose said earnestly. ‘You obviously have so much to talk about.’
‘Tabitha will show you to your room, Rose, while I take care of my dear friend.’
Rose followed the maid up the curved staircase to a sunny room overlooking the bay. It was small but comfortably furnished with a brass bed, a walnut dressing table, clothes press and washstand, and a chintz-covered armchair. Tabitha placed the valise on the floor. ‘Shall I unpack for you, miss?’
‘No, thank you,’ Rose said hastily. ‘I’ll do it myself.’
‘Very well, miss.’ Tabitha bobbed a curtsey and left the room.
Left to herself, Rose went to the window and gazed out at the ever-changing sea and sky. The clear air and the translucent blues and greens of the water dazzled her eyes, and she would have been content to stand there all afternoon, but she had a duty as a guest and she had a quick wash in cold water, tidied her hair and went downstairs to join her mother and Isabel. She followed the sound of voices and entered the parlour to find them laughing and chatting as if they had never been parted.
Isabel looked up and smiled. ‘Do come and join us, Rose.’ She picked up the teapot and filled a dainty china cup, added a dash of milk and passed it to her. ‘Do try some of Cook’s fruitcake, but not too much, my dear. We dine at six o’clock, which is unfashionably early, I know. However, we live a simple life here in the country.’
‘We also dine early.’ Eleanor eyed her friend over the rim of her teacup. ‘Your husband is away on business, I suppose?’
‘Mr Harman passed away two years ago,’ Isabel said casually. ‘It was a short illness.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Eleanor murmured. ‘How tragic.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Rose added, nodding.
‘Ah, well, these things happen,’ Isabel said with the ghost of a smile. ‘Now let’s talk about something more pleasing. There are lovely walks along the clifftop, Rose, and I believe there are still fossils to be found, if one knows where to look. We are quite famous now, thanks to Mary Anning, although I myself am not very interested in old bones.’
‘I’m not planning to stay long,’ Rose said carefully. ‘I’ve left Cora to cope with duties around the parish, but I should return to London before the end of the week.’
Eleanor put her cup down, staring at her daughter with a frown creasing her brow. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of it, Rose. I thought you were to stay and keep me company.’
‘I’m certain that you and my godmother will do very well without me,’ Rose said firmly. ‘I plan to leave for London on Thursday morning.’
‘But it’s Monday already. That means you will only have two days in this delightful house. It seems a little hasty, even for you, Rose.’
‘I’m sorry, Mama, but I thought I had made it clear at the outset.’ Rose prayed silently that the white lie would be forgiven, but she pressed the point home. ‘You would not want Papa to suffer unnecessarily, I’m sure. He must be missing you.’
‘That is true, Rose.’ Eleanor turned to her friend. ‘It is the first time that Seymour and I have been apart since our marriage. I can only try to understand how you must have felt when Mr Harman was taken from you.’
‘Actually it was more of a relief than anything.’ Isabel pulled a face, chuckling. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Eleanor. Not all marriages are made in heaven, and mine certainly was not.’ She turned to Rose. ‘More tea, dear?’
The next two days passed quickly and more enjoyably than Rose had thought possible. Her godmother was a considerate hostess, and her idle life seemed to suit Eleanor admirably. Isabel rarely rose before noon, and although she advocated long country walks she did not appear to follow her own advice. Having enjoyed a leisurely lunch her only exercise of the day seemed to be a stroll around the garden, after which she retired to the drawing room and reclined on the sofa. Rose left her mother and Isabel to their own devices and went out to explore the countryside and the small town. Although popular with summer visitors, out of season it was very quiet, and she was able to stroll in solit
ude on the beach and walk out unimpeded along the curve of the Cobb to watch the ships, some of them under sail and others steaming along at a rate of knots. At night, in her comfortable bed, she fell asleep listening to the waves lapping on the shore and the gentle sighing of the breeze. Each morning she had to remind herself that she was on a mission and this was not a pleasant holiday by the sea. She wished that she could confide in someone, but she soon realised that Isabel was a gossip who could not be trusted to keep a secret.
Early on Thursday morning Rose was packed and ready to leave. Her mother and Isabel were still in their rooms, which suited Rose very well as they had said their goodbyes after supper the previous evening. The coachman arrived on time to drive her to Axminster station where she boarded a train for Exeter. At Isabel’s insistence she travelled first class – though not in the direction Isabel had supposed – and had the luxury of having a carriage to herself. It was the first time she had ever travelled on her own, but she sat back in the seat and watched the lush green pastures flash past the window. The wooded valleys were dissected by rivers and the train passed through pretty villages, and in a little under two hours pulled into Exeter station, coming to a halt with a loud blast of steam. A porter opened the carriage door and picked up Rose’s valise.
‘Where be you bound, miss?’
‘The station hotel.’ Rose stepped down onto the platform. She was tempted to take her luggage from him, but she realised that she was attracting some curious looks from her fellow passengers and she decided that it would be worth the tip the porter would expect to be escorted through the station concourse.
Having given him what she thought was reasonable, and the man himself seemed satisfied, Rose went to the hotel lounge to await Scully’s arrival. She ordered a pot of tea and a ham sandwich, and sat down to read a copy of The Times that had been left on the seat beside her. She was immersed in an article when she realised that someone was standing in front of her. Thinking it was the waiter with her order she looked up and was about to thank him when she realised her mistake. She let the paper fall into her lap.
‘Mr Sharpe. I thought Mr Scully was to meet me here.’
Bennett pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘He sent me a telegram informing me of your plans. I replied by return, telling him that I would meet you here as I have work for him in London.’
‘I see,’ she said slowly. ‘It was you I wanted to see.’
He acknowledged this with a curt nod. ‘I think I can guess why you’re here.’
‘You can?’ She stared at him in surprise ‘Really?’
‘To fund a defence for a capital crime is not cheap. I imagine you are having some difficulty in getting the money together.’
‘You’re very direct, Mr Sharpe.’
‘So I’m correct in my assumption?’
‘Fancello’s is closed.’
‘I see.’ He moved aside to allow the waiter to place a tea tray on the table.
‘But we will find a way,’ Rose said hastily. ‘There are other places where Cora and I might find work.’
He gave her a searching look. ‘That is unlikely to bring in the amount you will need to pay the court costs, let alone other expenses.’
‘I know.’ Rose stared at the plate of sandwiches that the waiter placed in front of her and her appetite deserted her. ‘That’s why I needed to come in person, but I see I have wasted my time.’
‘No, you haven’t.’ He shook his head. ‘If that had been the case I would have telegraphed Scully and told him to explain matters to you.’
She raised her eyes to meet his. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Your brother’s case is due to be heard in Bodmin Crown Court next week. I’ve arranged for you to visit him.’
‘I can do that?’ Rose felt her mouth dry and her throat constricted. She reached for the teapot and filled a cup. ‘I’m sorry, would you like some tea, Mr Sharpe?’
‘No, thank you. I should prefer coffee this morning.’ He raised his hand to attract the attention of a passing waiter. ‘Coffee, please.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The waiter hurried off, his white apron flapping about his knees.
‘I’d like to see Billy,’ Rose said breathlessly. ‘Do you think he has a chance?’
‘I wouldn’t have taken the case if I didn’t think I could get him acquitted.’ Bennett sat back in his chair. ‘I’ve arranged for you to stay at Portmorna House.’
Rose choked on a mouthful of tea. ‘But isn’t that where Gawain Tressidick used to live?’
‘Yes, it is. But you will find his brother is open-minded. He wants to see justice done as much as you or I.’
‘Can you tell me more? I don’t want to say or do the wrong thing. How can you be certain that Mr Tressidick won’t object? I would have thought he’d hate anyone connected with the man accused of his brother’s murder.’
‘Bedevere Tressidick is my cousin and I know I can speak for him.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Rose said slowly. ‘You’re saying that you are related to the Tressidicks, and yet you’ve taken on my brother’s case. Why?’
‘Because I won’t stand by and watch an innocent man go to the gallows. It’s as simple as that.’
‘And I am to stay with the bereaved family?’
‘It is the only place in Portmorna where you would be comfortable. You want to see Billy, don’t you?’
‘Yes, of course I do.’
He smiled. ‘Then I suggest you eat your lunch and we’ll be on our way.’
‘How will we get to Bodmin?’
‘We’ll take the train to Plymouth and change there for Launceston. I’ve hired a carriage to take us the rest of the way.’
‘Will it take long?’
‘We’ll be travelling for the rest of the day, but you’ll see Billy tomorrow morning, I promise.’
Travelling by train was still a novelty to Rose, and she spent most of the time gazing out of the window. It was a largely silent journey as Bennett was occupied reading through a batch of documents and did not invite conversation. They changed trains at Plymouth and, after some delays, it was late afternoon by the time they arrived in Launceston, where a carriage was waiting to take them on to Bodmin. Dusk was dissolving the rocky tors into a magical and mysterious landscape as they crossed the moor. Gnarled trees were twisted into tortured shapes by the prevailing winds, and all too soon they were in almost complete darkness, with only the flickering lights of the carriage lamps to show them the way. Travelling in such proximity with a man who was little more than a stranger would, under any normal circumstances, have made her feel awkward and embarrassed, but Rose was tired to the point of exhaustion. She leaned back against the worn leather squabs and closed her eyes. The carriage rocked and swayed as it negotiated the rutted track, and eventually she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
She awakened to find that they had come to a standstill and light from burning torches flooded through the carriage windows. Outside she could hear voices and the sound of horses’ hoofs on cobbled streets.
‘Where are we?’
‘The George and Dragon inn.’ Bennett leaned across to open the door. ‘We’ll stay here tonight. I’ve booked two rooms and a private parlour.’ He alighted from the carriage and held his hand out to her. ‘It’s all perfectly proper. Even for a clergyman’s daughter.’
He sounded serious, but Rose was quick to see the humorous glint in his eyes and she smiled. ‘I don’t think anything I’ve done recently would be considered suitable behaviour for a respectable young woman.’ With her feet once again on firm ground she took in her surroundings, but it was too dark to see anything outside the lights of the inn. She followed Bennett into the crowded taproom, which was hazy with tobacco smoke and the air was thick with the smell of beer and sweaty humanity. Bennett led her through to a private parlour at the back of the building where a table was laid for two.
‘I ordered supper, and tomorrow we’ll leave directly after breakfast.’
; Rose took off her bonnet and mantle and laid them on a chair. ‘This must be costing a great deal of money. I don’t know how we’ll repay you, unless you’re prepared to wait.’ She went to sit at the table. In the surreal world she felt she was inhabiting it did not seem strange to be dining alone with a man she barely knew. At this moment nothing would have shocked or surprised her.
Bennett shrugged off his greatcoat and took a seat opposite her. ‘We’ll forget about money for the time being. The main thing now is for you to see your brother. I’m just waiting for Scully to report his findings in Oxford, and then I’ll have a good case for the defence.’ He looked up as the door opened and a maidservant entered carrying a steaming bowl of what turned out to be a savoury rabbit stew. She retreated hastily and returned again with a basket of freshly baked bread and a jug of wine.
‘Will there be anything else, sir?’
Bennett glanced at Rose, raising an eyebrow. ‘Would you prefer tea or a glass of water?’
‘No, thank you,’ Rose said, not wishing to appear gauche and unworldly. She rarely drank wine other than that sipped at communion, and even then Joshua had been instructed to take the chalice away before either she or Cora had had a chance to do more than moisten their lips.
‘Thank you, that will be all for now, thank you.’ Bennett gave the girl a charming smile that brought colour to her cheeks.
‘Yes, sir.’ The maid scuttled from the room, closing the door behind her.
To prove that she had meant what she said, Rose filled her glass with wine and took a sip. It was rich and red but slightly acidic, with a bitter aftertaste, and she tried not to wrinkle her nose. ‘Perhaps I ought to return to London after I’ve seen Billy,’ she said tentatively. ‘I really do need to find work.’
Bennett ladled stew into a bowl and handed it to her. ‘I’ve told you not to worry on that score, Rose.’ He met her startled look with a smile. ‘I think Billy would benefit greatly from the knowledge that you were close by. We’ll talk about finances when we win.’