A knock at her bedroom door stopped the carousel circling in her mind. Oliver was standing on the threshold.
‘How is William?’ was her immediate question.
It was two days since the attack, but apart from a fleeting visit, she hadn’t wanted to disturb her brother. The more he was able to sleep, the quicker his health would improve. And though her mother had come to the breakfast table each morning, she’d not been able to ask her for news of William. Alice had recovered sufficiently to peck at a slice of toast, but it was clear she was still deeply upset and throughout every meal, had remained sunk in thought. There had been no mention of Saturday’s events and, since Joshua was choosing to ignore the incident, his wife and daughter were forced to ignore it too.
‘He’s much better,’ Oliver said cheerfully. ‘Actually, a great deal better. I think the rabbit is doing the trick. He’s spent an hour grooming it this morning.’
She smiled. ‘I hope the rabbit doesn’t mind.’
‘Not a bit. Mr Cornford is going to make him a hutch, but in the meantime he loves being with us. He’s lapping up all the attention. Or maybe I should say she is?’
She looked at him questioningly. ‘We don’t actually know how to tell,’ he confessed, ‘but we’ve called it Beatrice, so she has to be a girl.’
‘Beatrice – in place of the doll?’
‘Exactly. They’ve both been lifesavers.’ Oliver moved further into the room and walked towards the window. ‘You’ve a smashing view from here, haven’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, looking out with him over the acres of rolling lawn. In the far distance, she could see the old fig tree that grew against a warm curve of south-facing wall. Apricots and pears, cherries and plums, hung there in abundance, some already fruiting, others yet to come. ‘The gardens are looking splendid. And the weather is perfect. Do you think William will venture out today?’
‘I’m going to encourage him. Perhaps best if we avoid the lawn. We can stay on the terrace or in the walled garden. He should be happy there.’
He walked back to the door, but then fidgeted a while with the handle. She wondered why he didn’t leave and was about to suggest an errand he could run, when he said abruptly, ‘I’ve already been out this morning, you know. I couldn’t sleep – I’m still a bit queasy after what happened. Anyway, William was sleeping peacefully, so I crept out early and walked right through the gardens to the very end.’
‘Yes?’ She wondered what was coming.
‘Mr Kellaway was there. Mr Simmonds, too. They’re putting the finishing touches to the temple.’
She found herself growing hot again. It was ridiculous in front of a fourteen-year-old boy.
‘The thing is, Mr Kellaway gave me a note.’ Her flush turned bright red. ‘It’s for you.’ And Oliver reached into his shorts pocket and dragged out a crumpled slip of paper.
‘Thank you, Olly,’ she managed to say, though her voice sounded tight and unnatural. ‘It was kind of you to bring it to me.’
‘I didn’t let anyone else see it,’ he assured her.
She must be almost crimson by now, she thought, and made haste to usher him out of the door. ‘It was very kind of you,’ she repeated to his disappearing figure.
This was turning out to be a morning of surprises. She took the note back to the window and spread its creases flat. I need to see you, she read. Tonight after dinner. I’ll work late.
Her stomach did a small churn. What had happened for him to summon her in this fashion? He must know how difficult it was for her to slip away, but here was this terse, uncompromising note asking, demanding in fact, that she do so. I need to see you. It had to be something serious, something threatening. Another bad surprise.
*
Dinner that night was a subdued affair. And interminable. Five courses served by Ripley at a glacial pace. The boys had already eaten their evening meal in the kitchen. Earlier in the day, they’d gone for a short excursion through the gardens, but William had been too tired to stay out long. His heart had suffered considerable stress and it would be a while before he regained full health. His return from the Wilderness, white faced and breathing unevenly, had been enough for Alice to declare him in need of more rest. His malady offered a perfect excuse to rid Summerhayes of its unwanted guest, and Elizabeth was surprised that her mother hadn’t suggested Oliver bring his stay to an end. But if Alice had been tempted, she had evidently decided against. These days William only truly came alive when he was with his friend, and her mother must know that only too well. But an early bedtime was the price, hence their meal amid the clatter of servants. The boys would have been happy enough, she thought, preferring the warmth and informality of the kitchen to the agony of a protracted and largely silent dinner.
At last, the meal was over and her mother suggested they retire to the morning room until tea was brought in at ten. It would be an evening, as so many others, of desultory conversation and the hated embroidery, and she had more pressing things on her mind.
‘I have a bad headache coming on, Mama.’ She put her hand to her forehead in what she hoped was a convincing gesture. ‘I think I’ll go to my room, if you don’t mind. I might even sleep – I didn’t have much rest last night.’
‘You have my sympathy.’ She imagined her mother must have spent an equally restless night in which dogs and boys hurtled through Summerhayes, a trail of blood and broken bones in their wake. ‘But if you’re retiring early, Elizabeth, so will I. We should both feel better in the morning.’ Alice paused at the foot of the stairs. ‘This business with the dogs… it’s so dreadful and… so very odd. And now there’s the dinner party. I’m worried to death.’
It was unclear whether it was the dogs or the dinner that was concerning her mother most, but then she went on, ‘Mrs Lacey is very efficient, I can’t fault her, and I know Cook will be wonderful about the extra work, but I feel I will have to check everything myself, two or three times over.’
‘It will be fine, Mama,’ she said reassuringly. The creases on her mother’s face had deepened perceptibly and she looked ready to sink with fatigue.
‘And will you be fine?’ Alice asked anxiously. ‘About the dinner, about meeting Mr Audley again?’
She gave her a quick hug. ‘You are not to worry. All will be well,’ she promised.
But how well? After the euphoria of those midnight kisses, fear had taken hold. Genuine fear. Fear that her life was unravelling and that she had lost control. Until Aiden’s caress had seemed to make everything simple again. As she’d clutched at her stupefied brother, he had put his arms around her, gently, casually, in a gesture that said you are already mine. And if that were so, she was standing at the very edge of a precipice. It wasn’t simple at all.
She pulled a chair up to the window and sat watching as the golden circle of summer sun sank below the horizon. In its place, a soft mist, hovering inches above the ground and turning the air gauzy and indeterminate. She sat and watched, then watched some more, as the world turned a gradual grey. In her ear, a tapping sound had started up. It was highly irritating and she looked around for a way to stop it. Then she saw that it was her own fingers making the noise, playing along the windowsill. She had been too hunched in thought, too bound by tension, to realise. Something was wrong, badly wrong, she guessed, or Aiden would never have risked another message. She needed to know the worst and this waiting was unnerving. But she dared not leave yet. Her mother might well be asleep – judging by Alice’s face when she’d left her, she almost certainly was – but Joshua would still be in his smoking room, cigar in mouth, and downing his customary snifter of warm brandy. Tea addled the insides, he maintained, and unless his women folk were present, it rarely passed his lips. Ripley would be bringing no tea tray tonight.
There was a creak outside her bedroom door. Her father, it seemed, had decided on an early night too. Smoking cigars and drinking brandy alone couldn’t be a great deal of fun. But they were a badge that Joshua chose to wear, a ba
dge that signalled he’d arrived, that he was part of a world where a country estate was one’s calling card.
She steeled herself to wait longer but, when after another twenty minutes, there was no further noise, except for the creaks and groans of wood panelling as it settled for the night, she decided to take the risk. She tucked her shoes into one hand then edged her window open. Climbing out, she blessed the wonderful chestnut tree. It was as though it had grown to full strength and so conveniently close, for her alone.
Chapter Twenty-One
He was halfway along the path through the Wilderness when she saw him, as though he’d come to speed her passage to whatever news he carried.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her breath was coming short. It was almost a mile from the house and she had hurried all the way. ‘I had to wait until everyone was asleep.’
‘It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.’ He put down a bag of books and tools and, before she could protest, enfolded her in his arms. She heard her breath becoming more ragged still and knew she must disentangle herself, and quickly.
‘I couldn’t be sure that Oliver would deliver the message,’ he said, when they stood apart once more. ‘He might have lost it. Or you might have chosen to ignore it.’
Nothing would have stopped her from seeing him tonight, but she kept the thought to herself. ‘As you see, he was an excellent postman. William has taught him well.’
‘And how is William? I seem always to be asking you that.’
‘He’s recovering, but I think it will be a long time before he’s back to his normal self. That’s not why I’m here though. What was it you wanted to tell me?’
‘Let’s find a seat first.’ He turned to thread his way back through the avenue of tree ferns, heading for the Italian Garden, but she reached out and stopped him before he’d gone a few paces.
‘Can we talk somewhere else?’ The top of a palm tickled her head and she brushed it aside. Palms held no fear for her; it was the furthest stretch of the garden that she found threatening.
‘The lake is looking very beautiful tonight,’ he tempted. ‘Why don’t we go there?’
‘I’m sure it looks magnificent, but I’d rather we talk somewhere else – the walled garden perhaps?’
In the half-light, she could see him puzzled by her disinclination for their earlier meeting place. ‘If it worries you, certainly… but why?’
She felt uncomfortable attempting to explain. Said aloud, it sounded foolish. ‘It’s as though… the trees are listening.’ She stuttered a little as she said the words.
He paused and looked at her, the crooked smile back. ‘And the fruit and vegetables won’t be listening?’
She let his teasing go without comment. She deserved it. Put like that, her fears sounded stupid. But whenever they’d met in the Italian Garden, she had sensed some kind of presence there, and it was not one that was benign.
In single file, they walked out of the Wilderness and into the kitchen garden, following its gravelled path through row after row of potatoes, beans, carrots, onions – just about every vegetable that could be planted. Mr Harris and his team were miracle workers, feeding not just her own family but every man and woman employed at Summerhayes. Beyond this bounty, the old brick wall stood guard, its outline clear even in the dimmest of light, cutting a horizontal against a partially cloudy sky, its surface bearing fans and espaliers heavy with harvest. Nearer still, and she could feel its warmth drawn from the day’s sun. A wooden seat had been set in a niche at the furthest point of the wall’s curve, and she led the way to it.
The smell of ripe apricots settled around them. Aiden stretched out his legs. ‘It’s another beautiful evening,’ he remarked. He seemed almost too relaxed. She’d thought from his note that he had urgent news, but if that were so, he appeared in no hurry to divulge it.
Instead, he said, ‘The hedges have been trimmed and Mr Cornford has a team erecting a solid barrier along the entire boundary with Amberley. It will take them a fair while to finish the job, but William should feel comforted.’
‘As long as it prevents another invasion. He can’t afford any more scares.’
‘Then we must hope it works.’
‘You don’t sound very sure.’
‘If I’m truthful, I’m not. There are ways and means of getting around any barrier.’
She was disconcerted by the edge to his voice. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve been doing some thinking. The first time the hounds ran free, I thought it odd. They’d never done that before. It was only two or three of them, then this time it was the whole darn pack. Don’t you think that strange?’
She had thought it strange, but hadn’t wanted to admit it. Speculation might lead to a dark place. ‘I suppose it’s possible that the same two or three dogs found their way back into Summerhayes, but this time they led the rest of the pack. Whatever gap existed must have been made bigger by the sheer force of numbers.’ It was what she had been telling herself.
‘I agree, but the dogs had to have been free to do that. I’m no countryman, but surely hounds are kept in some kind of enclosure. They’re not allowed to roam, are they? And wouldn’t you think that after the first incident, those responsible for the animals would make sure they were very firmly contained?’
She felt a spurt of impatience. Was this the news that had brought her running here? Surely not. The light had almost gone, but, sitting so close to him, she could see the misty green eyes had darkened with excitement.
‘So what are you saying?’ she forced herself to ask.
‘I’m saying that someone deliberately let those dogs out. Maybe deliberately encouraged them into the Summerhayes garden.’
She was startled but only for an instant. The suggestion had always been there at the back of her mind, but so far she’d refused to contemplate such a possibility.
‘I was working inside the temple at the time and I saw nothing,’ he went on. ‘But I heard the shouts of the men and came out to see what was going on. I caught a glimpse of two of the dogs disappearing into the distance. They looked as though they were chasing something.’
What Aiden didn’t know could only add weight to what, until this moment, had been unthinkable. But she had to be honest. ‘They were – chasing something,’ she said. ‘They were chasing a rabbit.’
‘That’s not exactly unusual,’ he mused. ‘It’s what dogs do. They could have nosed out the rabbit on the Amberley side of the border, I suppose, and chased it through to here. But that still means they had to be roaming free.’
‘It was a tame rabbit.’ Better to confess the worst.
‘Tame! Then it was deliberate.’ His expression was one of complete conviction. ‘Someone released a tame rabbit and allowed the dogs to chase it.’
‘How awful. It could have been torn to shreds.’
‘But it wasn’t? Or at least I saw no signs of bloodshed on the lawn. Just a clutter of rags.’
‘The clutter was once Beatrice, a doll that Olly won at the fête.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Poor Beatrice.’
‘Don’t worry, she has risen again,’ she reassured him. ‘The rabbit has now become Beatrice.’
‘You found the poor creature then?’
‘I did. She’d run up two entire staircases, looking for sanctuary, and found it in my studio. I gave her to William, so he has a new love in his life. Mr Cornford has been very busy making her a hutch – in between erecting fences.’
She hoped they could bring the topic to a close, but it seemed that Aiden was intent on talking of Amberley. She had no wish to follow him there, no wish to probe further. But he was on a mission to lay bare the wickedness he suspected.
‘Someone did this, Elizabeth, but who and why?’ She spread her hands wide in a gesture of resignation. ‘You have no suspicions?’
When she didn’t answer, he said, ‘I think you have. And they’re very likely my suspicions, too. But why would your uncle order the hounds to be released and
give them prey to chase?’
Because he likes killing things. Ivy’s words came to mind, but she shook herself free of them. ‘There is no reason,’ she said stoutly, ‘and that’s why I won’t believe it. The dispute with Summerhayes over water for the lake has been settled, maybe not to my uncle’s advantage, but it’s settled. And there’s no other reason to think badly of him. The idea that he would deliberately loose his hounds makes no sense.’
‘Unless he wanted to frighten William.’
‘What!’
‘That’s been the result each time, hasn’t it? Your brother has been scared half out of his wits. Does your uncle know how panicked he is by dogs?’
She had no notion but shook her head in denial, as though hoping to shake the idea from her mind.
‘And don’t forget the retreat the boys built,’ he continued inexorably, ‘that didn’t collapse of its own free will. The binding ropes were almost certainly cut.’
He sprung up from the seat they shared and began to pace back and forth in front of her, scuffing and crunching the gravel as he did. He seemed indifferent to the noise he was making. ‘So William has been the target. He has to have been. And it’s worked well, hasn’t it? He has spent days in bed or resting. His constitution has been weakened, which is what your uncle has been about.’
‘That’s completely insane.’
‘Yes, it is. Completely. But then Henry Fitzroy is not exactly well balanced, is he? When we first met, you told me of the emnity between Amberley and Summerhayes. You said that anything your uncle could do to upset your father, he would. For the last three months, I’ve heard much the same thing from a number of people. Mr Fitzroy, it’s generally known, is an angry and jealous man.’
‘But what has that to do with my brother? William is no threat to him. He has a son of his own – Gilbert.’
‘It’s not William himself. It’s the future he represents. He is the heir to Summerhayes.’
The Buttonmaker’s daughter Page 14