The Apothecary (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 3)

by Mary Kingswood

  Oh, the joy of his lips on hers! This time, there was more passion, more urgency in the pressure of his lips, but the same sweetness and gentle affection. This time, there was no abrupt parting, only a slow separation, with smiles and soft laughter and warmth.

  “Do not go away,” she murmured. “If you can bear it, please stay.”

  “How can we meet and not betray what has passed between us?” he whispered, kissing her forehead and nose and cheeks and then, as delicately as butterfly wings, her lips. “People will gossip.”

  “Let them. We are already subjects for speculation. Judith is watching us… even Mama. If they look at us and wonder, you may be sure that everyone else will, too.”

  “I would not have your reputation smeared by the idle words of scandalmongers.”

  “Papa always said that those who spread rumours stain their own hearts more than the characters of those they malign.”

  He chuckled. “Your papa sounds like an interesting man, and I should have loved to have met him, but I am not sure I agree with him on that point. A woman’s reputation is too fragile to—”

  “Shh!” she said, placing one finger on his lips. “I do not care what people might say of me. Whatever the future may hold for us, I need you, Adam. I should be so lost without you.”

  “Then that settles it,” he said. “I shall stay, and be whatever you want me to be, but always your friend.”

  “Thank you,” was all she could say, and his arms tightened around her, so that she felt protected and cherished and utterly safe.

  The distant sound of hoof beats drew them back to reality.

  “Visitors,” she said resignedly. But there was no heat in her words. For the moment, she was entirely at peace with the world.

  They made their way back to the house, and entered through the garden door. It was the first time Annie had used it, but Adam was familiar with all the servants’ parts of the house. As they approached the great hall, raised voices could be heard, one loud, one quieter, but both male. Sheffield was refusing admittance to the visitor.

  “Mrs Huntly is not at home,” he said firmly.

  As they opened the door to the great hall, Annie was surprised to see Sir Leonard there, red-faced and belligerent, with Squire Thornton twisting his hat uncomfortably in his hands.

  “Sir Leonard? Squire. What an unexpected pleasure,” Annie said, slightly puzzled.

  “Ha! You! I might have known it!” Sir Leonard said, catching sight of Adam. “But this is very convenient. I have been looking everywhere for you, Huntly.”

  “Well, here I am, but if it is business—”

  “Business? No. Not unless you call murder business.”

  “This is about the murder?” Adam said. “Then perhaps we should discuss it elsewhere, so that—”

  “We will discuss it in Salisbury gaol,” Sir Leonard said, lifting his chin.

  “The gaol?” Adam said eagerly. “Then you have found the murderer?”

  “Indeed we have, and I am looking at him. Thought you had got away with it, I daresay, but we have the proof. Your cousin died facing Wickstead, you see.”

  “Facing Wickstead. I cannot see—”

  “Which means he was followed. His attacker was behind him, having followed him from Wickstead. Which means that you murdered Mr Rupert Huntly.”

  “No!” Annie cried. “That is impossible.”

  “My advice to you, Mrs Huntly, is to say nothing at all,” Sir Leonard said. “No one wishes to drag you into the business, you may be sure, but dragged in you will be if you try to defend Huntly. I am arresting him, whether you like it or not, and he will be brought to court and eventually to the hangman. If you interfere, you cannot make things better for him, but you can make things considerably worse for yourself. Shall we go, Huntly? Your cell awaits you.”

  23: A Crisis And A Hypothesis

  The front door shut with a heavy thump. Booted feet crunched on the gravel outside and then died away as Adam, Sir Leonard and Squire Thornton made their way to the stables. The great hall fell into silence. Sheffield turned a shocked face to Annie, awaiting her orders, as the ancestors gazed impassively down from the walls.

  Annie was angry. Not the intense flare of rage she had felt when she had thought that Adam had betrayed her. Nor the sullen resentment she had sometimes felt towards her husband. This was a low but steady fury, like that of a well-built fire — constant but well-controlled, and utterly unquenchable. Her mind was calm and clear.

  She took a deep breath. “Where are Mr Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton, Sheffield?”

  “Mr Willerton-Forbes went into Salisbury first thing, madam. He intimated that he would be back in good time for dinner. Captain Edgerton is in the cellars at present.”

  “In the—? Well, I daresay he has a good reason. Please ask him to come to the hunting room at once, and Mr Willerton-Forbes whenever he should return. Also, please find my mother and Mrs Herbert Huntly, and ask them also to come to the hunting room.”

  “Mrs Dresden may be taking her afternoon nap, madam.”

  “So she may. Then she must be woken, I fear. Tell Billy that I shall need him to ride into Salisbury to take some letters to the post office that cannot wait for the carter tomorrow. Do you happen to know where Mrs Elkington lives, Sheffield?”

  “Just the far side of Salisbury, madam. Mr Elkington has the living at Bursham St John.”

  “Do you think Billy would be able to ride there today?”

  “Easily, madam. He will be back before dark.”

  “Good. Tell all the other servants — outdoor as well as indoor — to gather here in the hall at…” She glanced at the clock embedded in the stone fireplace. “In one hour, say. I wish to speak to everyone.”

  Sheffield bowed, and disappeared to attend to her instructions. Annie went briskly through to the hunting room, laid out paper, pens and ink and began her letters. Benedict first, to tell him the dreadful news and suggest the three brothers come to stay at Willow Place for the moment. Cecilia, with the offer of the carriage tomorrow. Uncle Tom, as head of her family. Lavinia, because one never knew when it might be useful to bring a title to bear on the case. Not Aunts Dempster and Connell, though. It was not her place to write to Adam’s kin, so that could wait for Cecilia or Benedict. And finally, with steely determination, the letter of introduction to Major Corbett, the expert in wounds from guns. It was now a matter of urgency for Captain Edgerton to talk to him.

  The captain arrived before she had finished her first letter, but he seemed to know what had happened and said nothing, apart from, “It is preposterous, of course.” Only when she had finished writing did he ask precisely what Sir Leonard had said.

  “He was facing Wickstead?” he said in astonished tones, when she explained. “Sir Leonard is saying that your husband must have been followed, therefore it must have been Huntly? I have seldom heard such an outrageous piece of illogic. It will never stand in court, you know. Any half decent barrister will tear the idea to shreds, and Willerton-Forbes is very much more than half decent.”

  “Mr Willerton-Forbes will speak for him? That would be such a relief.”

  “I am certain that he will. This is the most abominable injustice, and Pettigrew detests injustice with every fibre of his being.”

  “You believe, then, that Adam is innocent?”

  “I am as sure as I can be that he had nothing to do with your husband’s murder. He had no idea where it had taken place, for one thing. We scratched about for hours to settle on the exact spot, but could not. Besides, it is not in his character. I could see him getting into fisticuffs during an argument, and I could see him calling a man out, but to sneak about with pistols and shoot his own cousin in broad daylight? No, never. Adam Huntly is a man of hot blood, not cold. This was a carefully planned crime, and that has the ring of vengeance about it. Pettigrew has a man in Grantham trying to find something in your husband’s history to account for it.”

  Annie’s mother came i
n just then, and had to have everything explained to her in the gentlest terms. Annie had expected tears, a spasm, perhaps, but Mrs Dresden was too shocked to make any response at all. She grew paler and paler, her eyes wider and wider, but she spoke not a word.

  Billy came in to collect the letters, and Annie gave him her instructions with one eye constantly on her mother, in case she should erupt into an hysterical fit. But she remained silent and immobile. Captain Edgerton tried to persuade her to drink a little brandy, but she gave no sign of hearing him or seeing the glass before her.

  At length Judith arrived, still in her bonnet and pelisse, and carrying her flower-cutting knife. “Whatever is it?” Seeing Mrs Dresden she added, “Oh… not bad news? Your uncle? Or aunt?”

  “No, no. Everyone is well, but… Adam has been arrested for Rupert’s murder.”

  Judith shrieked. Then she shrieked again and again, until Annie’s ears were ringing. Tears she could cope with, and Aunt Hester’s flusterings, or genuine illness, but she had no patience with such demented noise.

  “Stop it, Judith! How is this helping? Oh, Mrs Cumber, thank goodness! Take her away, for pity’s sake!”

  Sheffield and Mrs Cumber led Judith, still screaming, out of the room and Captain Edgerton shut the door sharply behind them. Gradually the din receded into the distance and peace reigned.

  Annie flopped down at her desk again, head in hands. “I should not have shouted at her,” she said, as guilt gnawed at her.

  “If the housekeeper had not taken her away, I should certainly have slapped her,” Captain Edgerton said. “You were quite right, such behaviour is… unhelpful. Mrs Huntly, your mama is more restful company, but I am anxious for her all the same. Perhaps the physician…?”

  By the time Billy had been intercepted, and a note to Mr Grey added to his saddlebag, and Mrs Dresden had been taken unresisting upstairs, Mr Willerton-Forbes had returned and it was necessary to go over everything again. Then the Wickstead Manor carriage arrived bearing three white-faced young men and a quantity of luggage, and there were rooms to be assigned and the kitchen to be informed and a great bustle and confusion. And somehow, almost before Annie was aware, it was the hour appointed for her to address the servants.

  They were all there, the senior ones serious, the younger round-eyed and pale. Dewey and Davy, the gardeners, and Palcock, the coachman, stood a little apart, slightly embarrassed to find themselves indoors and in the formal part of the house at all. Davy gazed up in awe at the high ceiling and the unsmiling portraits on the walls. The indoor servants clustered together, Edith, the kitchen maid, twisting her apron nervously. Only Dawn, the nursery maid attending Judith, and Betty, caring for Annie’s mother, were missing. Mr Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton stood behind Annie, and she was grateful for their unspoken support. Everyone watched her in silence.

  “You will have heard the news, I am sure,” Annie began, her voice clear and firm. “Sir Leonard has arrested Mr Adam Huntly for the murder of his cousin. I need not tell you that he is innocent of this heinous crime, and this will, in time, be proved to be so. Mr Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton, who have already been investigating the matter at my request, will continue to do so, and I do not doubt their ultimate success. However, we must all do our part to assist them and help to restore the Huntly name to the unblemished condition it formerly enjoyed. If any of you, therefore, know anything of relevance to the case, whether to demonstrate the innocence of Mr Adam Huntly or to suggest who the true culprit might be, you must speak out. If you suspect that another person may know something, you must speak out. To fail to do so, to allow an innocent man to face the gallows, is a great wickedness in the eyes of God.”

  “It is also a crime in the eyes of the law,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “Such a perversion of justice carries the highest penalty.”

  “Indeed,” Annie said. “If you have information to convey, therefore, you may speak privately to me, or to Mr Willerton-Forbes or Captain Edgerton, or to Mrs Cumber or to Sheffield, as you prefer. But do not keep silent, I implore you. You all know Mr Adam Huntly, and you know him to be incapable of such a crime. We must do everything to ensure that justice prevails.”

  Captain Edgerton took a step forward. “I would have everyone remember that there is still a murderer at large. No one should walk about the estate alone, under any circumstances. This villain has pistols, remember.”

  Dinner was a subdued affair. Mrs Hewitt had not had time to prepare any extra dishes, but it hardly mattered, since Judith and Mrs Dresden kept to their rooms and the rest ate very little. Only Mr Willerton-Forbes and the captain could be said to have done justice to the cook’s efforts. Jerome and Edwin were uncharacteristically silent, Edwin looking on the verge of tears. Benedict, however, as the present head of the depleted family, rose to the occasion rather well, plying the lawyer with questions about the legal procedures that Adam would now face, questions which Mr Willerton-Forbes answered with unfailing patience.

  “There is no cause for panic, however,” he said. “For so serious a crime as this, the case must be heard by the Assizes, which will not be back in Salisbury until Lent of next year. Your brother is safe until then, even if uncomfortably situated.”

  When he fell into silence, Annie said, “Mr Willerton-Forbes, what may be done now to help Adam? It does not seem to me that the case against him is strong, but it may sound convincing to a jury.”

  “Juries are reluctant to convict wealthy gentlemen without convincing proof, especially where the result may be a hanging,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “You are correct to say that the case is not strong, but there is a great deal that is… suggestive, let us say. Did you know that he had quarrelled with your husband at the Vestry meeting that day? Or that he went home briefly, but went out again at once? He owned a pair of duelling pistols, and knew how to use them. He was not seen again until shortly before dinner. There is the undeniable fact that he stood to inherit Willow Place after his cousin’s death.”

  “Possibly,” Annie said. “It has never been certain.”

  “Indeed, but to a jury, that will carry some weight. And then…” He paused and glanced at Annie. “May I speak perfectly frankly, Mrs Huntly?”

  “Of course. This is not the time to prevaricate.”

  “It is suspected in some quarters that Mr Huntly has a strong attachment to you. Moreover, it is well known, for he made no secret of it, that he disapproved of your husband’s manner towards you. Those two factors combined may suggest a strong motive for murder in the minds of those who did not know of Mr Adam Huntly’s good character.”

  Annie considered that dispassionately. No single factor was enough, but added together they made a strong argument for Adam’s guilt. “So how do we proceed?” she said. “Is it possible to prove his innocence? To find someone who saw him that day after the Vestry meeting, for instance? Where did he go to?”

  “He says he cannot remember,” Captain Edgerton said. “He wandered about beyond his own knowing. That, too, will sound improbable to a jury. It is my opinion that if he had been seen by anyone who recognised him, that person would have spoken out by now. No, our best hope remains, as it always was, to find the true culprit and it is my opinion that he will be found in Grantham, where the late Mr Huntly spent so many years and conducted business as an attorney. There is no indication that he has made any enemies since his arrival in Wiltshire, but in Grantham we may have greater success.”

  “You think then that he got on the wrong side of someone there? But why? How?” Annie shook her head in bemusement. “A wronged business associate would have recourse in law, surely? And why wait until he had moved away from the area to exact revenge?”

  “These are good points,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said, “and until we know more of the circumstances, we cannot begin to guess at the reasons. However, I have people working on my behalf in Grantham to—”

  “What people?” Benedict said. “Are these people you can trust, sir?”

 
; “One of them is my own father,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said mildly. “I believe him to be trustworthy, Huntly.”

  “Your father!” Benedict said, his face lighting up with sudden amusement. For an instant he looked so like Adam that Annie’s breath caught in her throat.

  “My father is the Earl of Morpeth,” the lawyer said, with just a hint of pride. “He happened to be in the area, so I requested his assistance. Sometimes a title may loosen tongues more than a plain Mister. He is — or rather, was — a lawyer himself, so he understands the workings of legal matters. He is asking openly about Mr Rupert Huntly, the society he moved in and the work in which he was engaged, although he has as yet had no success in finding a disagreement or a single dissatisfied client. I also have someone working more surreptitiously in Grantham. He is a friend of the Willow Place attorney, Mr Wakeman, who has been very helpful to us. I have been in Salisbury today talking to that gentleman, and he gave me some information that makes me see the late Mr Huntly in a rather different light. Mr Huntly was attempting to renegotiate some leases on tenant properties in a manner of which Mr Wakeman disapproved. Nothing illegal, but rather underhanded, in his opinion. He was able to deflect Mr Huntly from his purpose, happily. From Grantham, there is as yet nothing that might incite a man to murder, sadly. However, we have by no means given up hope of a significant finding. The answer lies there and not here, I am convinced of that.”

  “Someone bearing a grudge against him,” Annie said slowly. “It could be so. Not even in business, necessarily, but some personal disagreement… money owed, or a friendship blighted. Some long-standing dispute seen as a betrayal when he left Grantham. That seems plausible. And what of James Huntly?”

  “I have not yet heard from Mr Neate in Ireland,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said.

  “When do you expect to hear?” Benedict said eagerly. “The Irish packets are very uncertain, are they not?”

  “At this time of year, the Irish Sea is relatively benevolent,” the lawyer said. “A letter may be sent and a reply received in a few days… a week, perhaps. However, it may take Neate longer than that to find all the information we require. He is a lawyer like myself, but he has the happy knack of being able to move unobtrusively through the lower ranks of society.”