A Death in the Dales

by Frances Brody

  ‘What’s to become of them, and all of this?’ I looked around the farm, more ramshackle than ever in the wake of the fire.

  He shrugged. ‘Happen the Gouthwaites will go back where they came from.’

  We stood in silence for a few moments. ‘Mr Cherry, you entrusted me with a letter because you feared there would be some reprisal against you. Well that has happened.’

  ‘I can barely credit it, the sense of Selina burning her own barn.’

  ‘It’s not her barn any more, and people aren’t always logical. We who came through the war know that.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘I don’t want to seem melodramatic, but Freda Simonson wanted me to find out who really did murder Rufus Holroyd. The only way I have any possibility of doing that is discovering what secrets people have, grudges, jealousies, fears. I’m good at keeping secrets, Mr Cherry. Will you give me permission to open that letter you entrusted to me?’

  He hesitated.

  I pushed the advantage of his hesitation. ‘Had you not gone to the empty cottage last night, I would be opening the letter now.’

  A call from the old man caught his attention. The gate was open, the cows beginning to move. Nipper had followed the cows into the lane, now he ran back to Gabriel, gave a small yelp and turned, ready to go back to the cows.

  Gabriel moved to leave. ‘Open it if you must, Mrs Shackleton. But if you act on the information, it had better be at night.’

  Before I had time to ask what he meant, he strode off.

  I remounted.

  Gabriel waited, and closed the gate behind me.

  I was a hundred yards or so along the lane when Mr Trevelyan, riding a chestnut stallion, caught up with me. We exchanged a greeting.

  ‘Are you and Harriet enjoying your stay, Mrs Shackleton?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Mrs Trevelyan has been very kind. As you see, I’m entrusted with Miss Shady for my morning ride.’

  We chatted about horses and although I am not very knowledgeable I scraped together a few pertinent questions about his stables, and about a racehorse he had acquired. Conversation eventually turned to the fire. He had heard that I rose during the night and went out to raise the alarm.

  ‘Is that why you rode up this way this morning, to see the damage?’

  I shot him a quick glance, to try and guess what he knew, but his expression gave nothing away. ‘Having seen the sparks in the sky last night and driven this way yesterday, I wanted to see for myself.’

  He chuckled. ‘Occupational hazard for you, I suppose. Your reputation goes before you, you know, that business at Bolton Abbey.’

  ‘Ah yes.’

  ‘I know a chap who works for an insurance company. He would do exactly the same, whether his company held the policy or not. He would want to investigate.’

  ‘I’m relieved there was no loss of life.’

  ‘So am I.’

  ‘Do you have an idea of the cause, Mr Trevelyan?’

  He frowned. ‘You may have heard that I am not renewing Abner Gouthwaite’s lease?’

  ‘Yes, I did hear.’

  ‘Fire-raising is treated very seriously by the magistrates, but one has to have evidence, and I do not have evidence. I came up here to send them packing this very day. Ended up relenting and telling Gouthwaite they could stay until his leg is on the mend.’

  ‘That is good of you.’

  ‘I don’t need that house yet. They may as well stay on for the present.’ He sighed. ‘Murgatroyd’s death is a terrible blow. Fortunately for all concerned, Gabriel Cherry is a good all-rounder. He’s been on these hill farms since he was a boy. I was unsure what the war might do to him, but I do believe it has sent his roots deeper into the land. He will doubtless acquit himself very well.’

  He nodded to himself, as if until that moment he had not entirely decided about Gabriel Cherry.

  Was that all he concerned himself with, I wondered. Something in his enigmatic expression made me believe he knew all there was to know about his wife’s affair, that Gabriel Cherry was Susannah’s father, and that the relationship between Gabriel and Victoria was well and truly over.

  I wanted to give some words of praise about Gabriel, and how he had found Martin Young and sent him to Lilac Cottage. But he knew that too.

  ‘Thank you for taking care of the lad from Pendleton, Mrs Shackleton.’

  ‘He’s no trouble. He’s a helpful boy and he feels sure the blacksmith in Pendleton will take him on. He wants to go home.’

  ‘Won’t he mind being parted from his sister?’

  ‘I think not. She’s well settled and he has made up his mind, young as he is.’

  ‘I’ll make an enquiry. Make sure the blacksmith wants him.’

  We talked of other things, the hospital in Skipton, the need for a doctor in Langcliffe, and the excellence of the Village Institute.

  But I could not help thinking about Gabriel, and how close he had come to death. He was safe for now, but for how much longer?

  The Gouthwaites were a brooding malignant force and their reign was not yet over.

  Twenty

  When Mr Trevelyan and I returned to the stables, Victoria was preparing to go riding, but clearly hovering, waiting for my return. As I dismounted, her husband exchanged a few words with her, giving her arm an absent-minded pat. ‘No loss of life, dear, nothing to fret over. Won’t happen again, now that I’ve marked a certain person’s card.’

  ‘Have the Gouthwaites gone?’ she asked.

  ‘Not yet but they won’t dare put a foot wrong until they take their final leave, not now I’ve spoken to them.’

  ‘Bertie, how did the fire start?’

  ‘The constable is investigating, dear. Difficult, you know.’ He turned and wished me good day.

  When he had gone, she said, ‘He lets people off too easily.’

  It was just as well for her that he did. ‘He’s a kind man, Victoria.’

  ‘Yes. Kind.’ She mounted her horse. ‘Is Gabriel safe?’

  ‘He moved into the vacant cottage. The move saved his life.’

  *

  When I arrived back at Lilac Cottage I saw Lucian’s motor parked outside. Harriet came to meet me. ‘Where did you get to, Auntie? Dr Simonson has come to take us to lunch. We might go to Pendleton because Martin wants to go home.’

  ‘Where are they?’

  ‘In the garden.’ She walked into the hall. ‘Susannah didn’t stay long. Her governess arrived back and she’s keen to see her.’

  ‘That’s good. Perhaps she’ll let you sit in on some of their drawing lessons, or French.’

  Lucian was batting in the garden. Martin bowled. Lucian hit the ball, sending it over the garden gate.

  I went into the garden, conscious of what I was wearing and wondering if he recognised his aunt’s skirt. If he did, he said nothing. He kissed me on the cheek. ‘Just in time. I’ve persuaded these young people not to bring a charge of neglect against you.’

  ‘What about your neglect of me?’

  ‘You’d have cause to complain if I were here all the time.’

  ‘What’s this about going out?’

  ‘I want to stand you lunch. It’s just the day for a ride in the country.’

  Martin came back with the ball. He set it down and tucked his thumbs into his trouser pockets. He rocked a little back and forth on his heels as if wanting to be off and running. ‘Might you take me back to Pendleton, sir?’

  Lucian looked at me, waiting to hear what I had to say.

  ‘Let’s not be hasty, Martin. You’ve had a bad experience. Stay here just a little longer.’

  I wanted to be sure he would find a place in his own village. After all, there may have been a very good reason why he and Beth were sent packing and I preferred to wait until Bertie Trevelyan had made his enquiries.

  Lucian frowned. For some reason he seemed to want shot of the boy. ‘Martin was telling me about the Pendleton blacksmith.’ He looked at Martin who took up the story
eagerly.

  ‘He said I could come to him and his wife anytime. I helped him, see, and his son didn’t come back from the war. They’d be glad to see me. And it’s where my dad will come back when he’s finished his travels.’

  ‘Martin! We’ve talked about this. You’re not a prisoner. You’ll go back very soon when one of us can take you.’

  Lucian nodded. ‘Go take another look round upstairs and see if there’s any more clothes of mine that fit you. There’s a valise there too, you could put them in that. Then you’ll be packed and ready to go as soon as we can arrange it.’

  For a moment the boy stood with a surprised look on his face, as if someone had given him a great big unexpected present. Harriet took his hand. ‘Come on, you don’t need telling twice.’

  When they had gone upstairs, Lucian said, ‘He and Harriet told me what happened. The lad’s had a bad time at Raistrick farm. If we drive him to Pendleton we can see for ourselves whether there’s a place for him. If he’s big enough and old enough to be sent out to earn his living, he should have some say in the matter.’

  We sat down on the garden bench. ‘Bertie Trevelyan is going to contact his friend in Pendleton and make enquiries,’ I told him.

  ‘Oh that’s all right then. I thought if Martin left, it would be one less thing for you to worry about.’

  ‘I’m not worried! But I am curious about the post mortem on Mr Murgatroyd. Can you tell me about it, or do I have to wait for the inquest tomorrow?’

  ‘You’ll know soon enough. The autopsy was undertaken as a matter of urgency. You can’t be too careful in an agricultural district.’ Although the walls surrounding the garden were high, he lowered his voice. ‘There was a full analysis of blood, stomach contents, and what had been absorbed in the gut and stools.’

  ‘And?’

  He hesitated, reluctant to say more, or thinking how best to phrase the findings. ‘There were sufficiently high traces of potassium to cause concern.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning that he was poisoned.’

  It was one thing to have suspected this, and quite another to have it confirmed. Everyone would expect an anodyne cause of death, heart attack, some undiagnosed condition, a sudden rush of blood to the brain. Now the tenor of life in the Parish of Langcliffe would once more suffer a jolt. Farmer Murgatroyd had been murdered. In one of those sudden mad insights, I could understand why people lied, smoothed over, pretended something had not happened when the evidence told another story. There had been the likelihood that Jennifer Murgatroyd’s wedding might have proceeded quietly after a natural death. But what would happen now was difficult to guess. My thoughts turned to that shelf of home remedies in Mrs Murgatroyd’s kitchen. Just the right measure of a potion might do a great deal of good. The wrong measure could kill.

  ‘Was it possible to identify the poison?’

  ‘It’s likely to have been digoxin.’

  ‘A heart remedy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was he taking medication for a heart defect?’

  ‘No and neither was anyone else in the household. Sergeant Dobson tells me there are foxgloves planted in the garden but it would take a barrow load of the leaves to kill him.’

  ‘Could the poisoning have been gradual?’

  ‘The indication is of a massive dose.’

  ‘What had Mr Murgatroyd eaten or drunk?’

  ‘A Sunday dinner with mutton and two veg, a corned beef sandwich with mustard, and something alcoholic.’

  ‘Mrs Murgatroyd said that his last meal was the Sunday roast.’

  ‘Perhaps he was peckish and made himself a sandwich.’

  ‘Not when he was out on the farm all afternoon and she was at home.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘Someone must have made him that sandwich and given him a drink, either his wife or Abner or Selina Gouthwaite.’

  ‘The Gouthwaites?’

  It felt unfair to bring in Martin. He was too young and had been through enough, but the interests of truth and justice left no choice. ‘Mr Murgatroyd was seen coming from Gouthwaite’s farm on Saturday evening.’

  Lucian’s eyes widened. ‘By whom?’

  ‘Martin. He saw Bill Murgatroyd go into the farmhouse and come out rather unsteady on his feet.’

  Lucian let out a whistle of surprise. ‘I’d better take the lad into Settle police station. Sergeant Dobson needs to hear this in advance of the inquest.’

  ‘Yes, another reason why he can’t go dashing back to Pendleton just yet.’

  On the stairs there was laughter and the thump of footsteps.

  ‘Martin has packed!’ Harriet came into the room, followed by Martin. ‘Do you want to see what he’s taking, Dr Simonson?’

  ‘Er, yes. I’d better.’

  Martin presented his suitcase for inspection.

  I caught Harriet’s eye and led her into the parlour, to give Lucian the opportunity to prepare Martin for the fact that he would need to give a statement to Sergeant Dobson, the coroner’s officer.

  The four of us lunched in Giggleswick in a small café that suited us very well. Martin and Harriet chose egg and chips. Lucian and I followed suit. I did not know what Lucian had said to Martin about the need for him to give evidence at the inquest, but it had done the trick.

  With Lucian, Martin had almost willingly entered the police station at Settle to give the sergeant the information he had so casually passed to me — that he had seen Mr Murgatroyd leaving the Gouthwaites’s farm appearing unsteady on his feet. I only hoped it would be possible to let Martin leave the court as soon as he had given evidence and that it would not be too harrowing for him.

  In the café, Martin sat tall, paying his food a good deal of thoughtful attention. I gave Lucian a little smile of appreciation. He grinned.

  Thinking about eventually being able to take Martin home brought to mind the rail strike and petrol shortage, and I remembered to tell Harriet the good news.

  ‘We’ll have a change of clothes soon. Mr Sykes is bringing our trunk across.’

  ‘I thought it was coming on the train.’

  ‘It would have been, if not for the strike.’

  Harriet dug a spoon into her treacle pudding and custard. ‘I’m glad the railway workers are showing solidarity.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you know if there is a strike fund, Auntie? I’d like to put my sixpence in.’

  ‘I’ll try and find out.’

  Lucian and Martin glanced at her in surprise, but she did not notice. I suppose it was unusual for a girl of her age to be on the side of the revolution, but she had her poor dead father to thank for that.

  Only Lucian had not ordered pudding, not having a sweet tooth. He took a drink of tea. ‘Sykes must have good contacts if he has no difficulty finding petrol to come to Langcliffe and back.’

  After our meal, we went for a walk to Tarn Brow. Martin and Harriet strode ahead. Lucian and I walked arm in arm. He never talked about his gammy leg except to be amused by it and thankful for the fact that he still had two legs. I wondered how much it pained him and what difficulties it caused. I asked him.

  ‘Oh it helps to give it a good swing about, as long as I have my stick. You’d be surprised how far I can walk when I put my mind to it. Uphill, too. Downhill isn’t so clever but I can do it.’

  When we reached the tarn, Harriet and Martin took off their shoes and socks and paddled. Lucian had brought a rug and spread it on the ground, playing Walter Raleigh, giving a mock bow. We sat down.

  ‘So how do you like the Parishes of Langcliffe and Giggleswick, Kate?’

  ‘Very much. Listen to that silence.’

  ‘So quiet that it hums.’ He took out a cigar. ‘Too much fresh air doesn’t do me any good.’ He lit his cigar. ‘Could the joint attractions of Langcliffe and Giggleswick parishes and me tempt you into taking a big step?’

  ‘That’s a rather unconventional way of popping the question.’


  ‘Then which knee do you want me to go down on?’

  ‘Neither as I’m not sure I could help you up.’

  He smiled. ‘I’d like you to be sure. I don’t want to hurry you and hear a no.’

  ‘You haven’t asked me anything yet.’

  ‘You told me not to rush you and I won’t.’

  We sat quietly for a while, watching a hen harrier dip over the tarn.

  Harriet had taken out her camera and was showing it to Martin. He took it from her and looked through it. The pair of them sat very still, watching a flock of ducks.

  ‘But did you give any thought to whether Lilac Cottage parlour might make a good consulting space, or whether I’d need to expand into next door?’

  ‘I did as it happens.’

  ‘Oh, thank you! What did you come up with?’

  I did not say that I had thought up this plan during my restless night in a desperate attempt to send myself to sleep when counting sheep did not work.

  ‘Get rid of the sideboard and replace it with a desk. Find yourself a suitable chair. An existing chair would do for the patient. Banish all those ornaments to a jumble sale if you can be hard-hearted about it. Use a screen at the other end of the room, which you could remove, and still have a parlour when you want it. There’s plenty of room in the kitchen for the medicines you can’t keep in the corner cupboard. Have that bed taken out of the alcove. It’s old-fashioned to have a bed in the kitchen.’

  ‘What a good idea. That would allow me to set up fairly quickly and think about taking over the adjacent cottage once I’m more established.’

  ‘Mr Sykes could help you move the sideboard.’

  ‘Sykes? How long is he planning to stay? I thought he was just bringing your trunk.’

  ‘There’s a bit more to it than that.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I asked him to see what he could find out about the murder case that so upset your aunt.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The trial was Leeds Assizes. He has a lot of connections.’