But the suggestion that he might have been behind my father’s murder was so ludicrous I knew it could not possibly be true. Ralph was a simple country lad, hurt by my rejection, yes, but certainly incapable of violence to further his designs on me.
There had of course been a number of customers or guests who had made advances towards me, too. But I had handled each and every one of them with the tact that is an innkeeper’s daughter’s stock in trade unless she wishes to get a bad name for herself. Apart from one, whose face I had resorted to slapping, and who had been thrown out bodily by my father when he heard the commotion and came to investigate. But that had been more than two years ago now. The culprit had never returned, and the thought that he might have done so with murder on his mind that terrible night was almost as unlikely as the suggestion that Ralph might be responsible.
No, whoever had quarrelled with and killed my father and for whatever reason, I was certain it had nothing to do with me.
‘I never saw the men who came to the inn that night,’ I said tautly. ‘All I know is that they destroyed my world.’
Quite unexpectedly, Gavin reached out and squeezed my hand.
‘We’ll try to make you smile again, Flora,’ he said softly, and I was moved again almost to tears by the small gesture of kindness. As I struggled to overcome them, I was almost unaware of Louis, standing stony-faced, until he moved impatiently.
‘Where is Antoinette? Did she not hear the gong?’
Another maid was in the room, a small, dark-haired girl who looked not much older than Louis’ daughter herself.
‘Clara, will you please go and see what is keeping her?’ Louis ordered. ‘Be sure to tell her to come at once.’
The girl scuttled off.
‘I would prefer it if you did not discuss Flora’s loss and the manner of it in front of the servants,’ he said tetchily to Gavin.
Gavin frowned. ‘But they hear everything!’
‘And talk about it amongst themselves. A murder is always the subject of much speculation. Flora’s grief is her own private affair.’
I bowed my head in bewilderment. Perhaps I was misjudging Louis. Perhaps he was as concerned for me in his own way as Gavin, and simply had a rather strange way of showing it. And then again, perhaps he did not want my father’s murder discussed for some other reason of his own, though I could not for the life of me guess what that might be.
A rustle of silk in the doorway; I was aware that someone else had entered the room.
I turned and saw a slender young girl standing there. She wore a simple gown of apple green, which fell straight from a high waistline to her feet, and boasted tiny puff sleeves. Even I, country bumpkin that I was, recognized it as the very latest fashion. Rich coppery hair fell loose to her shoulders, framing a face that was undeniably pretty, though there was a foxy look to her slanting green eyes, and there was certainly nothing very pretty about her expression. Her lips were buttoned as tightly as her father’s into a small hard line and she looked at once both sullen and defiant.
‘I see you have deigned to join us, Miss,’ Louis said tartly. ‘Did you not hear the gong?’
She returned his stare evenly. ‘I was busy.’
‘Busy? Busy doing what? Trying to make yourself look too old for your years again, I suppose. I will not have it, Antoinette. And I certainly will not have you keeping us all waiting for dinner. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Father.’ But the defiance and resentment were still there in her eyes.
‘It is especially ill-mannered of you since we have a guest,’ he went on. ‘This is Flora, a distant cousin of ours.’
‘I know who she is,’ Antoinette retorted. ‘You told me this morning you would be bringing her home with you.’ She turned to me, tilting her head to one side and regarding me with those foxy eyes.
‘Do you always wear black, Flora, or is it mourning for your father? You shouldn’t wear it, or not for any longer than you have to, especially with your colouring. It does drain you so.’
I thought Louis would explode. He took a step towards her, his face dark, fists clenching.
‘You will apologize for that, Antoinette. It is an unpardonable thing to say!’
‘I only spoke the truth! Black is very draining. I would never wear it.’
‘Apologize this instant!’
For a moment they faced one another, father and daughter, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills that I imagined had been fought many times before and would be fought many times again. Then she lifted her narrow shoulders in a slight shrug and turned to me.
‘I’m sorry if I offended you, Flora. I’m afraid I’m given to speaking my mind.’
‘You are given to rudeness! And rudeness is something I will not stand for!’ Louis stormed.
Gavin took a step forward. ‘Let’s not embarrass. Flora any more. Antoinette has apologized as you asked her; let’s forget it now and eat. I, for one, am starving!’
For a long moment Louis ignored him, still glaring balefully at his daughter. Then his breath came out on a long sigh.
‘Very well. But we shall talk about your behaviour again, Antoinette.’
He took his place at the head of the long table; as Antoinette moved to his right, I saw Gavin give her a surreptitious but unmistakable wink, and she responded with a twitch of that tight little mouth before sitting down, eyes demurely lowered.
Once again discomfort fluttered within me.
Bad enough that I was a stranger here, a bereaved, wretched stranger, but there were all manner of undercurrents to contend with too. I didn’t care that Antoinette had insulted me, I knew she had spoken nothing but the truth. After all, hadn’t I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror earlier and thought I looked like a ghost?
No, I didn’t care what she had said, but I could not help wishing she was a more likeable girl. But then again, I must not judge her too readily. She was at that difficult age that lies between childhood and womanhood and she had no mother to guide her. I knew only too well, from my own experience, just how that felt. My father had been kind and wise, but there had been times all the same when I had desperately longed for female guidance. Louis seemed cold, remote and censorious, and I could not imagine he made much effort to see things from Antoinette’s point of view. Perhaps, I thought, when we got to know each other better, I could be a friend to her.
Dinner was served – watercress soup, followed by some sort of game pie, and somehow I forced some down.
No further mention was made of my loss or even my enforced situation here, and I imagined they were avoiding the subject for fear of upsetting me further. They did not even talk of business; that, I assumed, had formed part of the discussion the brothers had had when I had been despatched to my room. To be honest, I cannot clearly recollect anything that was said – I was, for the most part, lost once more in the fog that had suffocated me now for days.
Then, quite suddenly, I became aware that Gavin was addressing me.
‘It must have quite a history, Tucker’s Grave Inn.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I suppose it has.’
‘Unlike our home.’ He smiled. ‘Father had this place built when his business became successful. We are only the second generation to live in it. But that old inn… it must have a few stories to tell.’
‘It’s a very odd name for an inn,’ Antoinette said, her foxy eyes brightening as she saw her chance to make a few more jibes at my expense. ‘I wouldn’t want to sleep in a place that was called a grave.’
‘It is named for a highwayman who was hanged at the crossroads close by,’ I explained. ‘Before that, I believe it was known as the Bell, but since everyone began referring to the crossroads as Tucker’s Grave, the inn became known as Tucker’s Grave too.’
Antoinette affected a theatrical shiver. ‘A highwayman was actually hanged there! How gruesome!’
Not so gruesome as finding your own father dying in a pool of blood, I thought. But I did not want to go down tha
t road.
‘Did they leave him on the gibbet until he rotted away?’ Antoinette persisted.
‘Antoinette!’ Louis reprimanded.
She ignored him. ‘Did they?’
‘I really couldn’t say,’ I said. ‘It all happened a long time before I was born. All I know is that when he was cut down he was buried right there at the crossroads because they would not allow his body back into the village, and certainly not to be interred in consecrated ground.’
‘Does his ghost haunt the spot?’ Antoinette had changed suddenly from a precocious young woman to a curious child.
‘If so, I have never seen him,’ I said.
‘And presumably if there were ghosts at the inn, they were more likely to have been the ghosts of persecuted monks,’ Gavin put in.
Antoinette’s eyes went round. ‘Persecuted monks? What persecuted monks?’
‘Wasn’t the inn linked by underground passages with a monastery?’ Gavin said. ‘I seem to remember…?’
So, after all these years, he still remembered the fascination of a fourteen-year-old boy with the mysterious links to an age of persecution.
‘The monastery half a mile away, yes,’ I said. ‘I sometimes think the passages were first tunnelled out so that the brothers could sneak into the inn and enjoy a drink at times when the Abbot forbade it. But certainly they were used during the times of persecution, and some escaped into them when the monastery was sacked and burned.’
‘And some did not, or so I have heard,’ Gavin said. ‘Were not some entombed by the soldiers?’
I was surprised he knew so much of the history of Tucker’s Grave. That long-ago boyhood visit must have made quite an impression on him, and he had asked questions about the place that fascinated him so.
Before I could answer, Louis intervened.
‘I don’t think Flora wants to discuss such morbid matters, tonight of all nights,’ he said.
‘I don’t mind,’ I said. It was true; I did not mind. In a strange sort of way it made me feel closer to my home, talking about all the legends that were so familiar to me they were like a second skin. ‘According to local lore, some of the monks were indeed trapped. The soldiers came to the inn and sealed off the escape route by barring the trap door into the cellar of the inn, and of course their retreat was cut off too, for the monastery was burning.’
‘So they died like rats.’ Gavin was enjoying himself.
‘I really don’t know,’ I said. ‘It may be just a tale. These stories are so embroidered over the years as they are passed down, no one can be sure where the truth lies.’
‘Well I certainly wouldn’t care to live in a place with such a history!’ Antoinette said. ‘Didn’t the very thought of it make your flesh creep when darkness fell?’
‘No,’ I replied truthfully. ‘Why should it? I was born and brought up there, after all, and I certainly never had any bad feelings about it. It was my home!’
‘And now it belongs to Papa…’
‘That will do, Antoinette!’ Louis said sharply.
He looked at me, and for the first time I saw what I thought was genuine regret in his eyes.
‘I expect, Flora, that you are very tired. If you want to leave us now and go to your room, we shall quite understand.’
I nodded, touching my napkin to my lips and pushing back my chair.
‘I would be grateful.’
‘We’ll talk more about the future in the morning,’ Louis said. ‘Try to get some sleep now.’
For some reason the consideration in his voice made my cheeks burn. For a moment I was totally flustered. Coming on top of all my other tumultuous emotions, it was simply too much for me.
With another hasty nod I turned and gratefully escaped from the dining room.
Four
Those first days at Belvedere House passed in much the same blur as the ones that followed my father’s death. For the most part I was left to my own devices, for Louis told me I should have the chance to grieve, and also to settle in, before he began introducing me to the secretarial duties he had planned for me.
He also told me that he had arranged for Tucker’s Grave Inn to be boarded up for the time being and that he had sent men to do the job first thing in the morning following the day I had left.
I suppose he told me this thinking it would set my mind at rest to know the place would be secure against vandals who might break down the door or force the windows when they found they were denied access to their ale, and vagabonds who might break in to steal whatever they could lay their hands on, but to be truthful I found the very thought of boards at the windows and bars at the doors an upsetting one.
‘What will happen to the travellers?’ I asked. ‘How will they manage with nowhere to change their horses and rest overnight or find refreshment?’
‘There are other inns on the road,’ Louis replied airily. ‘They will have to make use of them.’
‘But if they fall into the habit of going elsewhere, they may never come back,’ I protested feebly. ‘It could mean the end of Tucker’s Grave.’
Louis shrugged; I could see it did not concern him in the slightest, and why should it? He did not need the income. But it hurt me to think that my old home should deteriorate to an unloved, dilapidated ruin.
Something else was concerning me too. Supposing the Brotherhood of the Lynx should come in the middle of the night with noble French fugitives? It could be disastrous for them to find the place all locked up, for there might not be another safe house within many miles. I had been proud of the part we had played in helping the beleaguered nobles who had escaped the guillotine by the skin of their teeth and the bravery of the Brotherhood; now I was anxious on their behalf.
But of course I made no mention of this concern to Louis. These were dangerous times, and there were things one did not talk about even to close acquaintances, let alone near strangers.
‘At least I suppose my pearl collar will be safe then,’ I said, grasping at the one positive result from Louis’ action.
‘Your pearl collar?’
‘Yes. It’s very precious to me. Father gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday, and I intended to bring it with me. Unfortunately, in my haste, I left it on the dressing table in my room,’ I said. ‘I wish with all my heart I hadn’t come without it. I know I can’t wear it at the moment, whilst I am in mourning, but forgetting it makes me feel as if I had betrayed Father in some way – as if I didn’t care…’
‘That’s foolish talk, Flora,’ Louis said. ‘It is quite understandable that you should have overlooked something, leaving as we did. You must try to put it out of your mind.’
I turned away, the ready tears pricking my eyes. The last thing I wanted was for him to see them.
For one who had his own apartments in the old lodge, Gavin seemed to spend a good deal of time in the great house, but I could not help but be glad of it. He was, without doubt, a good deal more approachable than his brother.
The business their father had begun, and which they now ran together, was, I learned, the importing of wine and the exporting of woollen cloth and minerals from Dartmoor, and many of the transactions conducted were in France. It crossed my mind to wonder if all the trading was strictly legal, for Dartmouth had something of a reputation as a so-called ‘free port’. Its situation beside deep water and within the shelter of the winding River Dart made it a busy landing stage, whilst the sparsely populated countryside which surrounded it on three sides meant there was little defence against the smugglers who made use of the caves and sandy coves along the coast. Additionally, it did seem to me that someone who could so coldly take possession of my home, though it was lawfully his, would have few scruples about making money by whatever means came to hand and was the most profitable. But I could not be overly concerned about the legitimacy or otherwise of the family business, or the source of the wealth that had built Belvedere House. I had too many other things on my mind, and it really was no business of mine.
&
nbsp; Antoinette’s continued antagonism, however, did concern me. It seemed she was determined to resent me, making barbed remarks when the opportunity arose and merely glowering at me with those foxy eyes when it did not. My only consolation was that she seemed equally antagonistic towards her father and I guessed that she was at an age where she hated the whole world if it failed to fall in with her whims. And I still pitied her, too, trapped here in this great house with no friends of her own age or sex.
One morning when Louis had repaired to his study and we were left alone at the breakfast table, she rose suddenly and announced she was going riding. It was a wretched day; the rain had stopped at last, but a thick blanket of fog hung over the countryside. From the window of the morning room it was impossible to see more than a few feet and I could guess that up on the moors it would be even worse.
‘Is that wise?’ I asked before I could stop myself.
Immediately she turned on me. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You can scarcely see your hand in front of your face,’ I said. ‘You could gallop into a ditch and never see it.’
‘I know every inch of the land around here,’ she said haughtily. ‘And Perdita does too. She’d never be so foolish as to gallop into a ditch.’
‘Nevertheless,’ I said, ‘I really think you should speak to your father before you go out riding on such a morning. He may not share your confidence.’
Her lips tightened; her eyes blazed.
‘I do as I like!’ she said scornfully. ‘And I certainly won’t be dictated to by someone like you!’
I felt my hackles rising.
‘And what do you mean, Antoinette, by someone like me?’
She tossed her head. ‘Why, a poor innkeeper’s daughter living here on my father’s charity.’
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