‘Some affection and consideration perhaps.’
‘I’d have said she was overindulged but then, I am probably a better judge of character than you as I’ve had more experience of life.’
‘Of course,’ I said, ‘you have known the tragedy of losing a dearly loved husband.’
She gave me a hard look. It was no secret that Mr Thorpe had been a mean-spirited, tight-fisted old man and the marriage had not been happy.
‘Ah, poor Thorpe!’ she sighed, deciding to take my remark at face value. ‘And I am reduced to life in a cottage after being the mistress of a fine house.’
‘There you are, Louisa!’ Lady Denby sailed into the room like a ship with pennons streaming. ‘Everyone seems to have disappeared. I’m becoming so concerned about Sir Ralph. He went charging off in such an agitated state. The doctor has warned him about this sort of thing but he won’t listen. I’m sure we should have heard something by now. And where is Rowland? He’s never here when I want him.’
‘I expect he’s gone off in search of Elinor,’ I said.
‘I can’t think why – there are plenty of other people to do that. Whose plate is that?’ She surveyed George’s untouched luncheon.
‘My brother’s. I don’t know where he went.’
‘I frightened him away,’ cried Louisa gaily.
‘It must’ve been something fearsome for him to leave his food,’ observed her friend. ‘He must be hungry. I certainly am – at least, I would be if I wasn’t so beset by anxiety. I doubt if I can manage more than a couple of mouthfuls.’
I watched as she helped herself to several thick slices of ham and cold beef and a large portion of pork pie. The dining-room clock chimed one. Elinor had been gone for six and a half hours.
An hour later Sir Ralph returned looking ashen-faced and decidedly ill. He declared his search had proved fruitless. ‘I couldn’t go on,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve had such pains.’
‘Pains?’ cried Lady Denby. ‘Where are the pains?’
He confessed that they were in the region of his heart, at which his wife insisted that he should go to bed immediately – helped by two of the remaining servants. She then sent an urgent message to Dr Stringer.
‘I’ll be all right,’ he groaned, ‘if only Elinor would come back.’
‘If and when she does I’ll give her a dressing-down she’ll never forget. That wicked girl! She is responsible for this! She could kill her own father with her stupid, selfish behaviour!’
Sir Ralph did not seem greatly cheered by this last observation but was quite willing to be put to bed to await the arrival of the doctor.
George, I discovered, had joined the flight to Ashdale ostensibly to help with the search for the missing girl, but also to escape the clutches of Mrs Thorpe and enjoy a steak at the Unicorn.
My only thought was to avoid the ‘pair of witches’ so I took myself out of doors to the front of the house so that I could watch for any arrivals. I took my sketchbook and watercolours and began to work on a painting of the priory ruins. Sophie followed me but then grew bored, complained of the heat and returned indoors, where, I heard later, she had gone up to explore the collection in the gallery with Frank Lawrence. Apparently they had spent an hilarious time opening cabinets and playing with the exhibits and trying on bits of armour. I was rather concerned when I heard about it but Sophie assured me he had behaved very correctly. ‘He’s a great deal more fun than Rowland – he says the cleverest things!’
I reflected that it probably mattered little as we were soon to leave.
Back in the park I saw the doctor arrive and, about twenty minutes later, Colonel Hartley, accompanied by his manservant, Sam Bates. I at once hastened to tell them of the latest developments. The Colonel seemed concerned about Sir Ralph’s alarming symptoms.
‘Driving about in this heat consumed by anxiety is enough to try someone younger and less portly than Sir Ralph. I hope it doesn’t prove to be anything immediately dangerous.’
‘The doctor arrived a few minutes ago so we’re hoping for the best.’
‘I was expecting Sir Ralph to join us this afternoon. He gave us permission to conduct a little experiment. Come and watch.’
We walked around the house to the lake, where two men were already waiting in a boat.
‘Now we’re here and all prepared we may as well go ahead.’ The Colonel led the way to the end of the path from the hermitage. Then he signalled to the boat to come nearer.
‘Now, Bates, from here throw as far as you can.’
I had noticed Sam Bates was carrying a crude wooden box under his arm. He hurled it into the water, where it fell with a heavy splash.
‘Just the weight of a box of pistols. The water here is fairly shallow – it shelves down in a slope. I reckon it’s no more than five feet deep where the box fell. If anything else is there it may be possible to find it.’
The boat came nearer and the men spent the next half hour with poles and nets, stirring up a great deal of mud. They fished out several bottles, an unrecognizable lump of metal, a bucket with no base and part of a broken hay-fork. Then they gave a shout of triumph.
‘I think that may be it!’ cried the Colonel. It was indeed the missing pistol box. Bates resourcefully produced a bit of old towel and dried it carefully. There it was, the battered mahogany box with the missing initial plate that I had seen in the hermit’s cell that day Sophie, Rowland and I had invaded his privacy. It was very like the replacement present when the body was discovered.
The Colonel produced the key and turned it in the lock. ‘It still works – but then, it hasn’t been in the water very long.’
Inside lay two officer’s pistols with all the usual accoutrements of powder flask, ramrod and various tools.
‘So now we know for sure,’ said Colonel Hartley, ‘I’m sending Bates here on a tour of gunsmiths’ shops armed with your sketches.’
‘Surely you don’t think anyone from the house was responsible?’
‘We don’t know, but we can at least eliminate any possible suspects.’
‘Like Lady Denby,’ I suggested, scarcely suppressing a giggle. ‘I can just imagine her in turban and flowing shawls creeping about in the night intent on felony.’
He laughed. ‘I think we can safely omit her from any investigations. But I am very pleased about our discovery this afternoon. I hardly dared hope we’d find anything. This is still no real proof in a court of law. Someone might suggest that poor Rushworth had two sets of pistols and threw one away for some reason. We can’t prove there was a substitution, not unless Bates unearths something significant.’
‘I’ll do my best, sir.’
‘When have you ever done anything else?’
The Colonel paid the two Lovegrove retainers for their help – a task they seemed to have enjoyed – and the box was wrapped in a piece of sacking and given to Bates to take back to Shelbourne.
‘Go without me,’ he told the man. ‘I must call at the house and see how Sir Ralph is faring.’
We returned to the house together and entered by a side door. The doctor was just leaving, having bled Sir Ralph and administered a sleeping draught. Lady Denby was hovering over him, refusing to believe her husband was not near death.
‘I assure your ladyship that Sir Ralph is sleeping peacefully, as you have seen for yourself,’ Dr Stringer assured her. ‘His valet is sitting with him and there is no need for you to be there also. I see no cause for alarm if he is allowed to rest for a few days. Keep him on a light diet – no alcohol until I say so – and make sure he is free from anxiety as far as possible.’
‘That is highly unlikely at present.’
‘Well, don’t tell him anything alarming if you can help it. With any luck he’ll stay unconscious until morning, when I’ll call again. I’m afraid I must go now. Don’t despair, he’s very robust for his age. It’s a common enough complaint with men of his constitution.’
The doctor departed, pleading another patient in need of
a visit.
Colonel Hartley paid his compliments, adding sympathy for all the troubles Lady Denby was undergoing that day, and then took his leave. He told her nothing of what had transpired that afternoon at the lake. I had an idea she would consider it a great deal of nonsense and a waste of time. I needed little persuasion to accompany the Colonel back to the gate. He collected his horse from the stables and walked beside me with the reins over his arm. We had not gone very far when we saw a carriage coming towards us. The occupants were Rowland, Elinor and a strange young woman with a baby in her arms. My brother rode alongside. All looked exceedingly grim except the stranger, who looked frightened.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The confrontation took place in the Great Hall. I had parted from Colonel Hartley, promising to inform him of the outcome of this new development, and made my way back to the house. As usual, the rest of the party – or what was left of it – had assembled before dinner. The moment the doctor had left, Lady Denby went up to lament over Sir Ralph. As he was blissfully unaware of her presence and his valet sat in attendance, she declared she could not bear to see her beloved spouse in such a woeful state. She hastily changed for dinner and came down to minister to her guests: Mrs Thorpe, Frank Lawrence, Sophie and me. I had no time to change unless I was willing to miss what promised to be an exciting scene.
The prodigals all entered at the same time, the two women first and then Rowland and George. The latter sidled over to me for protection in case Mrs Thorpe staged a flank attack.
Lady Denby stared at the incomers like an avenging Fury. ‘What has been going on?’ she demanded. ‘Elinor, you owe us all an explanation. You’ve almost driven your poor father into his grave with your reckless behaviour. He’s lying in his bed now at death’s door.’
‘Papa is ill? I must go to him!’
‘You’ll do no such thing! No one is allowed to see him. He must rest. And what are you doing, Rowland? Was it you who found her?’
‘Not exactly.’ He looked sheepish. ‘I suppose you could say she found me.’
‘And this young woman – who is she?’
‘His wife!’ Before Rowland could answer, the newcomer spoke for herself. She was a handsome girl, no more than twenty or so with copious chestnut hair, pink cheeks and shining hazel eyes. She was smartly dressed in a rather showy style: a canary yellow pelisse and an over-decorated bonnet. The child in her arms whimpered.
A deathly silence was broken by a hoarse, choking enquiry.
‘His wife?’ repeated Lady Denby. ‘What do you mean by that, pray?’
The young woman, who had looked nervous when she first entered, had gained confidence and viewed her ladyship with a defiant air.
‘Rowland and I were married nine months ago in Peckham. This is your little granddaughter, Arabella.’ The voice had a strong Cockney accent and would, I felt sure, become shrill under pressure of emotion.
‘Rowland – explain!’
‘Well,’ he shifted from one foot to the other uneasily, ‘I met Carrie about a year ago and – er—’
‘We fell in love!’ Carrie finished the sentence for him.
‘And how did you meet, pray?’ enquired Lady Denby.
‘My father kept the Bull Inn and Rowland used to come there with his cronies to play cards and drink.’
Lady Denby passed her hand over her brow as though about to faint. Mrs Thorpe proferred her smelling salts but her ladyship declined them with a gesture.
‘So you are a publican’s daughter?’
‘That’s right. It’s a very respectable place – quite large and well appointed.’
Lady Denby had been doing a calculation. ‘That child can’t be less than three months old and you say you were married nine months ago? You fool, Rowland, why did you have to marry her? Sir Ralph and I would have dealt with the matter if you’d confided in us.’
‘Oh, he had to marry me,’ said Carrie brazenly, ‘Pa insisted and he can get very nasty if thwarted. He has friends who know how to look after his best interests. But don’t you want to look at your grandchild?’
‘I certainly do not. There must be some way out. This marriage can’t be legal.’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ admitted Rowland, ‘I’m of age, after all.’
‘It was a proper wedding in church and we signed the register and everything and there were plenty of witnesses.’ Carrie was beginning to sound indignant. Now facing her towering, raging motherin-law she had found her voice. Rowland was quite subdued. I reflected that in this marriage it was clear who would be the dominant partner.
‘I think you might at least ask me to sit down as I’m carrying the baby,’ Carrie complained.
‘Yes, sit down, my dear,’ said Rowland. ‘Mama’s had a shock. I told you she’d be angry but she’ll come round when she gets to know little Arabella.’
Carrie sank into a chair with a shake of her ostrich plumes.
‘I have no desire to get to know little Arabella. This is all too much. And what has all this to do with you, Elinor? Did you know about this marriage?’
‘Not at first. I found out that day we went to the Unicorn for luncheon. I met Rowland coming out of one of the rooms when he was supposed to be miles away. This young woman was standing in the doorway with her child. I saw him kiss them both. He then saw me looking at them – the girl went back inside but he couldn’t ignore me. He admitted then that he was married but made me promise not to tell anyone. He said he wanted to introduce the idea to his mother gradually.’
‘Gradually? How could anything like this be gradual? It was always going to be a shock.’
‘He knew about my friendship with the hermit and threatened to tell everybody, putting the worst possible construction on it. I would be disgraced and Brother Caspar banished. So I kept quiet. But it doesn’t matter now – it’s all over and I’ve no reason to be silent. If Rowland had treated me differently perhaps I would have taken another course of action.’
Lady Denby fought between her inclination to indulge in another tirade and her desire to hear the rest of Elinor’s story. I saw her struggling for control and finally she blurted out: ‘Go on!’
‘I went into Ashdale early this morning and made some enquiries. At last I found out where Carrie was in lodgings; Rowland had moved her there when he realized the inn was too dangerous. I went to see her. She was very reluctant to confide in me at first but I told her she’d already been seen once in the park so it was time she introduced herself to her new family.’
‘I did come once,’ said Carrie, ‘but when I saw the house I didn’t know what to do – the stableboy said Rowland was out somewhere. He kept refusing to bring me here – he said he was waiting for the right time but I began to think the time was never going to be right.’
‘A clandestine marriage!’ cried Louisa Thorpe. ‘You must find that romantic, Amelia. Your novels are full of clandestine marriages.’
‘Perhaps, but they don’t involve publicans’ daughters.’
‘And where does Mr Tyler come into this farrago?’ enquired Mrs Thorpe, with a coy look in his direction.
‘I went to the Unicorn for something to eat.’ George spoke without looking at her, directing his answer towards Amelia Denby. ‘On the way out I met Rowland and asked if his sister had been found. He said she’d never been lost and he’d come to hire a gig to take her back to Lovegrove. I said I’d accompany them and I went back to his wife’s lodgings and heard the whole story.’
‘And I am not just a girl or a woman or a mere publican’s daughter!’ declared Carrie defiantly. ‘I am Mrs Webb, if you please.’
‘A disgrace to the name!’ exclaimed Lady Denby, who, after all, had once been Mrs Webb herself. ‘Rowland’s father was a gentleman and a man of property. Heaven knows what Sir Ralph will say. A shock like this is enough to carry him off!’
I reflected that Rowland was merely a stepson and Sir Ralph, whose first wife was a brewer’s daughter, was unlikely to be as horrified as her ladyshi
p.
‘Rowland,’ she ordered, ‘will you kindly remove your wife and child from my presence – they are a continual reminder of the shame you have brought on us all.’
‘You might at least let us stay the night,’ he protested.
‘I wouldn’t stay if you paid me,’ declared Carrie. ‘Come on, Rowley, let’s get back to our lodgings and then we can make plans.’
‘No doubt, Rowland,’ said Lady Denby with heavy sarcasm, ‘your father-in-law can give you employment as a pot-boy. You’ll need some means of earning a living when your allowance is cancelled.’
‘What – but I’m entitled—’
‘To nothing. Your father left very little but debts and I’ve had to support both of us by the labour of my pen and a small annuity. I owe you nothing now. Please go!’
Rowland looked as though he might prolong his pleading and begged his mother to see him alone but she remained adamant and Carrie swept out of the hall ahead of him leaving him little option but to follow her.
Lady Denby suddenly descended on Sophie, who backed nervously away.
‘He has broken my heart!’ she cried. ‘And yours too, I know, you poor child – all your affections wasted and your hopes dashed by that deceiver!’
Sophie looked at her with astonishment and some alarm, when she found herself pressed to Lady Denby’s heaving bosom.
‘Unhappy girl! I know what it is to suffer. You must be brave. And now I must go and lie down. I am sorry to abandon my guests but I cannot face dinner. This has been an appalling day.’
She wished us all good evening and departed. I later saw a heavily laden tray being taken to her room. We had all watched, breathless, as if at a play. When the leading lady departed there was an outburst of animated conversation.
‘She seems to think I was besotted with Rowland!’ cried Sophie.
‘That’s what she planned, so she believes it happened,’ I said. I went over to Elinor. ‘Everyone is very glad to see you safely home,’ I told her. ‘We were all very concerned.’
‘Yes, and I’m so sorry about poor Papa.’
‘You could simply have told your stepmother about Rowland’s marriage.’
The Lovegrove Hermit Page 10