Murder on the Moor

by Julianna Deering

  Raphael sniffed and rooted in the heather at her feet, making satisfied little snuffling noises as they walked. Madeline looked out over the endless fog-shrouded emptiness in front of them and smiled faintly.

  “I’m glad we could come. I’ve always wanted to see Yorkshire. I suppose the Brontës are to blame.”

  Sabrina’s mouth twisted into her habitual smirk. “I never liked Brontë. The moor’s depressing enough by itself without reading about unlikable people.”

  Madeline chuckled. “You mean Heathcliff and Cathy. They were rather unhappy, weren’t they?”

  “And Rochester. He was beastly to Jane and didn’t at all care.”

  Madeline didn’t respond right away, and for a moment there was only the sound of their boots on the muddy pathway.

  “I always felt rather sorry for him,” she said at last. “He’d been treated very badly by his family when he was young. I think he felt he deserved to do as he pleased, right or wrong, to have the woman he loved.”

  Sabrina looked far into the distance, silent, and then she frowned. “Come along, Raphael. There is nothing particularly interesting about that rock.”

  The dog ignored her and finally routed out a startled and angry lapwing, but there was nothing he could do but bark and leap at the bird as it flew out of sight.

  “I’m sure the moor is glorious in the spring and summer,” Madeline said after she had brought Raphael to heel again and they’d gone a bit farther. “I’d love to see the heather in bloom. But you’re new to Yorkshire, I take it. London?”

  “Oh, yes. I lived there until Beaky and I married. There’s always so much to do in London, nightclubs and theatres and cinemas. I thought it would be nice to go to the country where it was quiet.”

  Madeline looked around, breathing deeply of the cold, bracing air. “It’s wild, beautiful and untouched.”

  “But it’s so quiet.” Sabrina looked behind them suddenly and moved a little closer. “I heard something in the north wing again last night.”

  “You did?”

  “I told Beaky about it, but he said he hadn’t heard anything and that I must have dreamt it.”

  “I think—” Madeline stopped, looking at her for a moment before plunging ahead. “I think we should take a look ourselves.”

  Sabrina blinked at her, and then a wicked grin crossed her face. “Really?”

  “We’ll have to wait till the boys are gone and we’ll have to be extra careful. We don’t want to crash through a floor or something.”

  Sabrina snorted. “Beaky’s had men looking in there several times. There wasn’t any crashing, not even once.”

  “So?” Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Shall we?”

  “Definitely. So long as it’s during the day.” A flicker of wariness then came to Sabrina’s eyes. “I sometimes feel as if there’s no one else in the whole world when I’m out here. And sometimes . . .” Her voice dropped lower. “Sometimes I’m sure there’s someone watching me. Following me. Especially when it’s foggy like this.”

  Madeline felt a tingling down her spine. “Have you ever actually seen anyone out here? Or anything?”

  “Not really, no,” Sabrina said. “Just a light out in the middle of nowhere some nights. Beaky says it’s nothing and I shouldn’t worry.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t come out alone.”

  Sabrina looked faintly horrified. “And stay penned up in the house all day? I’d go stark staring mad, I promise you. Besides, Raphael needs his walk, don’t you, my angel?”

  Hearing his name, the little terrier gave her a panting doggie smile and then led them on across the rocks.

  “Maybe Beaky could walk with you until they find out what’s going on,” Madeline suggested. “Have you asked him?”

  “Beaky? Good heavens, no. He’d want to chatter the whole time, and that would spoil everything. How can I think or even breathe with him standing right there every minute?” Sabrina looked very intently for a moment, and then that smirk returned to her lips. “We get along well, Beaky and I, but in small doses.” She put her arm through Madeline’s, picking up the pace. “You know how it is. Familiarity and contempt. I always think it wise to keep a little mystery in a relationship. Men are so easily bored, don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t like to think I had to be constantly entertaining,” Madeline said. “Not with Drew.”

  “You’d better not let that one slip through your fingers, my dear. He’d be snapped up like French couture at the church jumble sale.” She looked around and then frowned. “Where’s Raffie got to? Raffie? Raphael!”

  They reached the top of a rise, bare rock but for some wiry grasses that grew out of the crevices. Below, the moor stretched out before them, gray and white and brown. It was shrouded in mist, though she could still make out the Lodge and, farther on, the shops and houses of Bunting’s Nest huddled cozily together, the smoke from their chimneys drifting up and quickly lost in the fog and the slate sky. There was no sign of the dog.

  “Raphael!”

  “What’s that?” Madeline asked, pointing to a large dark shape a good distance beyond the village, its windows mere pinpoints of light. “Is that Westings?”

  “Yes.” Sabrina was silent for a moment, and Madeline wondered if she was laughing to herself. “They’re a rather pitiful pair, aren’t they? The Grays?”

  Pitiful was perhaps the perfect word for that union, but as she had told Drew, “It’s hard to say what makes someone attracted to someone else.”

  Sabrina’s mouth twisted slightly at the corner as she continued to scan the area for her little terrier. “I don’t know how they were when they first met, but I can’t imagine two people less suited for one another.” She put her hands on her hips. “Raphael, you are a very naughty boy! Anyway, if I have to hear him sigh over the beauties of sunny Italy one more time, I’ll—”

  She broke off with a low gasp. Before Madeline could ask her what was wrong, she heard it herself, a shuffling sound in the dead undergrowth. She made her voice as sternly imperious as she was able. “Who’s there?”

  There was perfect silence.

  “Who’s there?” Madeline demanded again. “I know there’s someone there.”

  Sabrina shrank closer to Madeline and gave an almost inaudible shriek when a dark figure stepped out of the shadow of a craggy bluff as if it had risen, incorporeal, from the moor itself.

  Eight

  You oughtn’t to walk out here by yourselves,” the man said. “You might lose your way and never get back.”

  He stood there grinning at them, bandy-legged and barrel-chested, his unshaven face ruddy and lined, his hawklike nose bent at the bridge and pushed to one side, and his gimlet eyes sharp under half-closed lids. A greasy lock of black hair fell over his forehead.

  Sabrina drew herself up, glaring at him. “What are you doing out here, Jack Midgley? This is Lodge property.”

  He tugged the brim of his battered tweed hat, not looking the least bit respectful. “No harm meant, missus. I musta lost my way. Or maybe you’ve lost yours.” He looked both women up and down. “It’s easy to get lost out here these foggy days, and I know my way better than most.” He narrowed his eyes. “You ladies had best stay off the moor. There are things out here you don’t want to know about.”

  “Mrs. Bloodworth’s dog got away,” Madeline said, making her tone just short of contemptuous and trying her best not to shrink away from him. “He’s a white terrier. Have you seen him?”

  “A terrier?” Midgley gave a humorless bark of a laugh. “Why, a little dog like that wouldn’t be no more than a mouthful for whatever might get him.”

  “What do you mean?” Madeline demanded.

  He leered at her, his heavy-lidded eyes bright with malice. “Furrin, are you? Likely you never heared talk of the barghest. Take care you don’t meet him. Unawares like.”

  “What do you mean?” she breathed.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Sabrina said. “He’s drunk, like as
not.”

  “You’d best go on home, Mrs. Bloodworth. You’re not likely to see your little dog again.” He gave her an impertinent wink. “Might even find an unexpected visitor a-lyin’ across your threshold when you get there.”

  “That’s a nasty thing to say,” Sabrina snapped, though there were sudden tears in her eyes. “You know there’s nothing out here.”

  “Just as you say, missus.” Midgley tugged the brim of his hat again. “Just as you say.”

  “We’d better go back to the house,” she said to Madeline, pulling her away from him and toward the way they’d been going.

  Midgley snorted. “You’ll be a long time getting there, ma’am, if you go that way.”

  Madeline glared at him, realized she was turned around, not knowing if he was telling the truth or if he might just be nasty enough to steer them wrong in the fog. He must have read the thought in her eyes because he grinned again.

  “That way, ma’am.” He pointed behind them. “You can just see the Lodge chimneys down below.”

  Madeline squinted into the dimness, not sure at first if she saw anything at all, but then she made out a billow of smoke, barely thicker than the fog itself, and then the dark shape of the house. She took Sabrina’s arm.

  “This way. Don’t worry. Raphael is probably already in the kitchen having his supper.”

  Sabrina hurried alongside her, but she glanced back at Midgley. “You’d just better clear off our property. If anything’s happened to my dog—”

  “Come on,” Madeline hissed, and she could have sworn she heard the man snickering behind them.

  They trudged on in the wet for a few minutes, and everything was silent but for the rustle of dead grass and their own panting breath. Then Madeline looked back again. Midgley was nowhere to be seen.

  “Do you think he was following us?”

  Sabrina hurried her pace. “I don’t know.”

  “But who is he?”

  “The devil, if you ask me.” Sabrina’s eyes darted from side to side as she stalked forward. “Come on, Raffie. Where are you?”

  Madeline scurried after her, almost slipping. “Sabrina.”

  Sabrina didn’t turn, didn’t slow. “He’s just a poacher. I’m tired of him nosing around where he doesn’t belong. It’s too bad they don’t allow flogging anymore. Raphael! Come on, boy! Come on!” She stopped, listening, then called again. “Come on, Raphael!”

  For a moment there was only silence, followed by a faint yip ahead of them. Madeline wasn’t sure she’d heard it at first, but then it was repeated, and Sabrina caught her breath.

  “Raffie? Come on, boy! Come on!”

  They hurried toward the sound, almost at the house again, when someone stepped around the corner of one of the outbuildings.

  “Mrs. Bloodworth.”

  It was the gamekeeper, with the dog squirming in his arms and whining to get to Sabrina.

  “I found him headed back to the Lodge,” Delwyn said, handing him over. “He looked as if something frightened him, but he doesn’t seem hurt. I thought you ladies might have lost your way in the fog.”

  “Raffie,” she scolded as the dog whimpered and wriggled and licked all over her face, and then she hugged him close. “You’re a naughty, naughty boy.”

  “Thank you,” Madeline said. “We were worried about him. He bolted before we knew it.”

  Delwyn’s dark eyes flicked toward Sabrina. “Then something did frighten him.”

  Sabrina tossed her head. “I thought it was your job to keep poachers off our land. What’s Midgley doing out there, I’d like to know?”

  “Midgley? That—” Delwyn snapped his mouth shut and glanced at Madeline. “Beg pardon, ma’am, I didn’t know he was about. Where did you see him? On Lodge property?”

  “Up on Merlin Hill.” Sabrina lifted her chin, mouth taut. “That was Lodge property last I heard.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the gamekeeper said with a sullen duck of his head.

  “Then why is a notorious poacher allowed to run wild all over it?”

  “I do my best, ma’am. Lodge property covers a lot of acres.”

  “Then maybe I should tell my husband to engage a gamekeeper who can handle the job.”

  For a moment, Delwyn stood with his lips pressed tightly together, saying nothing. “You should do as pleases you, Mrs. Bloodworth, ma’am,” he said at last. “I’m only a hired man and it’s not my place to say.”

  “Is he dangerous, Mr. Delwyn?” Madeline asked when Sabrina’s only reply was a disdainful sniff. “I mean, he wouldn’t actually hurt anyone, would he? He’s just a poacher.”

  “It’s hard to say what a man might do, Mrs. Farthering. But I’d be happy to know you ladies weren’t going out on the moor alone anymore. At least until we know who’s doing what. It’s not safe going out there. It’s not wise.” He fixed his eyes on Sabrina until she was forced to look away, and then he turned to Madeline again. “It’s not wise.”

  “I want to know,” she said. “What’s out there?”

  Sabrina’s eyes widened, and she clutched her dog more closely. “It’s all old wives’ tales. I told Midgley and I’ll tell you, Rhys Delwyn, there’s nothing out there. Nothing that hasn’t always been out there. Nothing you can’t see in the daylight as well as during the nighttime.”

  Delwyn nodded slowly, dark eyes hooded. “I daresay, ma’am, but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous.”

  “Then it’s your job to see to them, isn’t it? Come on, Madeline. It’s time for Raphael’s dinner.”

  Sabrina swept into the house without another word.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Delwyn,” Madeline said, and she scurried after her.

  Delwyn tugged his cap. “Ma’am.”

  “There you are.” Drew padded down the back stairs and into the kitchen and took Madeline into his arms. He hadn’t wanted her to go out in this weather in the first place. “You’re freezing. Come by the fire and get warm. I was about to come looking for you two. Where’s Sabrina?”

  “Looking after her dog. He got away from us, and I thought we’d never find him.” She shivered against him. “I can see why she’d start to feel like the place is haunted. It’s almost like a nightmare out there in this weather, one of those where you’re trying to get somewhere or trying to find something and you never can. I don’t know what frightened Raphael, but I’m sure it was something besides his imagination. And then this horrible man just popped up out of nowhere and said—”

  “Wait a minute.” He turned her face up to him. “Who popped up?”

  “I don’t know. A poacher. Sabrina said his name was Jack Midgley.”

  Drew frowned. “Midgley was out there? What did he say?”

  She wriggled away from him so she could hold her hands over the fire. “Not much. Just that Sabrina and I should stay off the moor, and that if Raphael ran away, something had probably already eaten him. It was nasty of him, even if Mr. Delwyn did say almost the same thing. Not about the dog, of course.”

  “Delwyn was there, too? You have been busy.”

  “No, he wasn’t there when we saw Midgley. Delwyn was later. He’d found Raphael and was coming to look for us.”

  “And he told you to stay off the moor, as well?”

  Madeline nodded. “A bit more respectfully than Midgley did. I’m afraid Sabrina wasn’t very—”

  “Wasn’t very polite?” Sabrina stalked into the room, a freshly lit cigarette in hand. “Wasn’t very gracious? To our gamekeeper?”

  “I was going to say you weren’t very happy about Midgley being over there. What did you call it, Merlin Hill?”

  Sabrina looked wary for a moment, and then she laughed half under her breath. “Yes. That’s the rocky hill that overlooks the house. Beaky tells me it used to be some sort of high place for the pagans. Gives me the creeps. I don’t know what Midgley was doing up there, but something needs to be done about him.” She looked at Drew almost defiantly. “And she’s right about Delwyn, too.
I wasn’t polite, and I wasn’t gracious. He’s an insolent dog, if you ask me. Thinks he’s God’s gift, and everyone in skirts should be throwing themselves at his feet.”

  Drew glanced at Madeline, reading mild surprise in her expression. Clearly she didn’t agree with Sabrina’s assessment of the man.

  Sabrina paced in front of the hearth, puffing on her cigarette. Then she managed a brittle smile. “Why don’t you two go into the drawing room? I’ll see the cook about our tea. Won’t be a minute.”

  “Lovely. Thank you,” Drew said, tucking Madeline’s arm into his own. “Come along, darling.”

  He escorted her into the hallway that led to the main part of the house. They’d walked about halfway to the drawing room before he took a look behind them.

  “‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks,’” he quoted, voice low.

  “Well, I didn’t think he was anything but respectful and trying to be helpful.”

  “So why should she tear into him like that?”

  Madeline pursed her lips. “I think she was scared. I know I was.”

  He wrapped her in his arms and pressed a fervent kiss into her hair. “I’m glad nothing happened. Please, darling, until we know what’s happening, couldn’t you stay a bit closer to the Lodge?” He thought he felt her giggling against him and turned her face up to him. “Please? For me?”

  She looked around, making sure they were still alone, and then touched her lips to his. “For you.”

  That evening after dinner, Drew borrowed Beaky’s Bentley and went again to the Hound and Hart. He found the gamekeeper at a table with four other men.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. Delwyn.”

  “Mr. Farthering.” The Welshman’s eyes narrowed. “Was there something you wanted?”

  “A moment of your time, if I may. Will you join me?”

  His friends looked at Drew warily, but Delwyn only winked at them. “Won’t be half a tick, lads, and then I’ll tell you about the trout I caught back in ’29. Long as your arm, I swear.” They jeered at him good-naturedly as he followed Drew to an empty table and made himself comfortable.