Death and the Cornish Fiddler (17 page)

He bowed once more and parted company from them, proceeding back to The Angel solitary and deep in thought. On the way there he saw Tim Painter, striding up the street at a fair rate, going in the same direction as the three ladies. John wondered whether to hail him but thought better of it when he remembered their parting. He proceeded onward and was nearing The Angel when his attention was drawn by the arrival of a heavily built and somewhat old-fashioned coach. Importantly stepping from it was a mature man greeted with the utmost respect by the passing populace. Women bobbed and men doffed their hats, while a small child burst into tears at all the fuss. Drawing nearer, the Apothecary recognised him as the fellow who had been walking along the street the night before the Furry Dance. Turning to a passer-by, he said, “Who is that man?”

“Baron Godolphin, Sir.”

“Hence all the bowing and scraping. I might have guessed.”

“He’s the local peer of the realm. Baron Godolphin of Helstone.”

“Ah, that would explain it.”

Seized by the sudden idea that he could possibly be looking at Nicholas’s actual father, who was definitely a local dignitary, John gave an elaborate bow and was rewarded by a cold glance from eyes hard as steel.

Just the type to have fathered a bastard child, thought John, and said “Sarvant, Sah,” in an affected London accent.

“Do I know you?” asked the other nastily.

“No, Sir, you do not. I was merely passing the time of day.” At this moment their conversation, if it could be described as such, was interrupted by the landlord appearing in the doorway, bowing and rubbing his hands.

“Good day. Lord Godolphin. A pleasure to see you again, Sir.”

“Good day,” his lordship replied briefly, and marched into the inn.

After a moment’s hesitation, the Apothecary followed.

Lord Godolphin strode into the inner recesses but John, hearing a noise on the stairs, looked up just in time to see a shape covered by a cloth being carried down on a plank. Behind it came the Constable looking grim-faced. Catching sight of John, he called out, A word with you, Sir, if you please.”

“Certainly.”

He reached the bottom and the two men carrying the body came to a brief halt.

“To the mortuary, Will?”

“Aye.”

John asked, “Have you informed the Coroner?”

“A message has been sent, yes.” William Trethowan hesitated. “Do you think she did die naturally, Sir?”

“I’m not sure. There are no marks on her body as you probably noticed.”

For a large man, the Constable seemed to wither. “I didn’t look too closely.”

“Well I did and I can assure you that neither the doctor nor I could see any. But that doesn’t rule out smothering.”

“But who could have done that?”

“I think,” John replied thoughtfully, “that it could have been one of several people.”

That night, with Rose safely in bed and Jed keeping watch from the taproom, John and the Marchesa stepped out into the cool air.

“So what is your opinion?” she asked, as direct as ever. “About Diana do you mean?”

“Her and the child.”

The Apothecary looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure about either of them.”

“Is there a link, do you believe?”

“It’s possible, though for the life of me I can’t see what it could be.”

Elizabeth frowned. As they had apparently never met before they arrived it certainly presents a difficult problem.”

“But supposing there were some connection between them. That Mrs Pill knew Miss Warwick and they had come here by special arrangement. What then?”

The Marchesa shook her dark head. “I don’t think so somehow, though you might be right. Tell me all you have discovered about the woman.”

As far as I can make out she was a poor prostitute from Truro, living as best she could. Then she was taken under the wing of Nicholas Kitto’s mysterious father…”

“Who is he?” Elizabeth interrupted.

“That I am not sure of. You know I went to see young Kitto today…?”

She nodded.

“Well, he confessed to me that he was the bastard child of some local bigwig or other. He also told me that Diana was his father’s mistress until Nick took her on.”

A lesser woman might have looked shocked but Elizabeth merely nodded. “I see. A strange situation but not unheard of. Have you any idea who this mysterious parent is?”

“There’s a local peer called Lord Godolphin. It could be him I suppose.”

“What makes you think so?”

“He’s all ruffles and hard face. But you’ve seen him yourself. Do you remember the night before the Furry when Diana hastily crossed the road?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you recall a middle-aged man, probably about sixty, walking along on his own?”

“Yes.”

“That was him.”

Elizabeth looked extremely thoughtful. “Quite a handsome fellow in his way. Perhaps Diana hurried away in order to avoid him. At the time it seemed an extraordinary thing for her to do.”

“It did indeed. But now it makes sense.”

“Yes, and it also provides a motive for murder.”

“You mean Lord Godolphin killed her for some reason or other?”

“Either him or Tim Painter.” The Apothecary braced his shoulders. “I must have another look at the body. That is if I can get permission.”

“Do you know where she has been taken?”

“To the mortuary. I’ll contact the Constable first thing in the morning.”

“A good idea.” The Marchesa smiled up at him. “Now, we have spoken enough of death and murder. Let us talk of something else.”

“Our plans perhaps?” said John, turning his full gaze on her. She shook her head and her dark hair was caught in the moonlight, giving it a silvery sheen.

“You’ll be beautiful even when you’re old,” he said.

She laughed. “What are you talking about? I am old.”

“No you’re not. You have the spirit of eternal youth.”

“I might have in your eyes but actually I am forty-seven in August.”

It was on the tip of John’s tongue to tell her that next month he would be thirty-four but he held back. Instead he took her in his arms and kissed her. Then, laughing, they made their way downhill and made love quite naturally in the shadow of the trees that lay at the bottom, a rapturous experience to add their own sounds of pleasure to the noises of the night all about them. It was an unforgettable heightening of their relationship and afterwards, walking back slowly towards the inn, their arms round each other, John felt almost emboldened to ask her yet again if she would stay with him for ever. But once more he remained silent and as the evening came finally to an end, he could do nothing more than bid her goodnight and go quietly to his room.

Chapter 16

J
ohn woke early, and putting his head round his daughters door, saw that she was still asleep. But there was a stirring in the street below that was attracting his attention. Dressing quickly, he went out of The Angel’s front entrance then stood, somewhat dismayed by what he was seeing. The blind fiddler and his band were leaving town, playing as they went. First came the Gaffer, his dark hair and his blackened spectacles gleaming in the early morning sunshine. A pace behind him, as usual, was Gideon — the monkey sitting on his shoulder and banging the tambourine. Behind him, in their turn, came the flautist and the kettle drums player, the mandora and fagotto players bringing up the rear.

The Apothecary’s heart sank. The band’s departure meant that there would be no further festivities, which, in turn, signalled the exit of most of the people who had come to Helstone to see the Furry. And, consequently, most of the people present when Isobel Pill had vanished and Diana Warwick killed. At any moment he was going to be left with both these mysteries to unravel and no witnesses to help him. In a sudden panic, John fell into step beside the fiddler. “You’re going from Helstone I take it.”

The head beneath its battered hat turned slightly and the darkened glasses flashed in the Apothecary’s direction; for one incredible second John had the impression that he was being regarded.

“Mr Rawlings, isn’t it?”

“Yes, how clever of you to know.”

“Ah, not just a pretty face, be I.”

The fiddler laughed and John saw a flash of white teeth, rather than the rotting brown stumps he had half-expected. “May I ask why you are leaving?”

“Well, Sir, it be over. All dead and buried for another year. So what’s the point in staying on?”

“Where will you go next?” John asked.

“Wherever there’s a fair or festivity in Devon or Cornwall, that’s where you’ll find us.”

“Do you only travel in the West Country?”

“It’s been known for us to go as far as Wiltshire, Sir, and to Dorset.”

Something about this remark struck the Apothecary as significant but for the life of him he couldn’t place what it was. He dropped back a pace or two in order to speak to the others.

Gideon, of whom the monkey had obviously grown fond, had now retrieved his tambourine from Wilkes’s leathery claws, and was banging and whirling it enthusiastically. The monkey, meanwhile, was chattering away, its face perpetually sad beneath its small tricorne hat. It bared its teeth as it saw the Apothecary but whether it was grinning or snarling he could not be certain.

John strove to remember the names of the rest. The little flautist was James and the craggy-faced kettledrum man with the wicked roving eye, was George. The aesthetic mandora player was called Zachariah, while his jolly fat friend, who puffed his cheeks out while he blew, was Giles. John turned his attention to the mandora man.

“Are you sorry to be leaving Helstone?” he asked brightly.

“No, Sir, I’m not. Seems like this Furry has been cursed what with the little maid vanishing and Miss Warwick dying so suddenly. A shocking affair.”

Giles, who had been blowing hard, stopped for breath. “I reckon the Gaffer’s right to move on. Mysterious though, ain’t it. Do you know aught about it, Sir?”

“Not much more than you, I should imagine.”

The fat man looked slightly downcast. “I thought you might, seeing as how you mixed with them.”

“I wasn’t really that close,” John answered evasively.

A small crowd had started to cheer the musicians from the town and amongst them was Rose, still in her nightshift, but at least with a pair of shoes on. Unaware of her father’s presence she ran straight up to Gideon.

“Oh dear, are you going?”

“Yes, we’m be off.”

“And you are taking Wilkes with you?”

“Of course we are. He’s my little pet, ain’t he.”

“Can I hold him once more?”

“Yes, you certainly can.” And Gideon handed the monkey to her.

It was almost as big as she was but for all that Rose cuddled the animal enthusiastically. John was vividly reminded of her mother who at one stage had wanted to adopt every stray creature they had come across. He rather feared that their daughter might well have inherited the same characteristic. He watched her as she fondled the monkey’s ugly head and held one of its claw-like hands.

She looked up and saw him. “Oh Papa. He’s going away.”

“Yes, my dear. But he’s happy with Gideon and the Gaffer. Now hand him back.”

She plonked a kiss on the grim little face, then did so. John looked at her and saw that a solitary tear was running down beside her nose.

“Don’t be sad, darling. I am sure you will see him again one day.”

“I do hope so.” She brightened up. “What shall we do today. Papa?”

“I have a commitment this morning. At least I hope I have,” he added in an undertone. “But after that I will be free to do whatever you want.”

“Could we go to the sea again?”

“Provided Mrs Elizabeth wants to go, yes.”

“Is she going to become my mother?” Rose asked, her directness reminding John of the woman in question.

He looked at her, thinking she was young yet to know his true feelings on the matter, which were, to be honest, totally confused.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“I see,” Rose answered and flashed him a look which confirmed his belief that she was an old soul with ancient wisdom.

“The truth is that I don’t believe Mrs Elizabeth wishes to marry again,” he found himself blurting out.

His daughter nodded, said, “Poor Papa,” and taking him by the hand led him back towards the inn as if she were the adult and he the little child.

As soon as he had consumed a reasonable breakfast, John Rawlings went to see the Constable in his place of work. He came immediately to the point.

“I want to have another look at Miss Warwick’s body, if that is agreeable to you.”

William straightened up and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Why, Sir?”

“I need to see if there is any indication that she was smothered.”

“Have you informed the doctor of this?”

“I called at his house on the way here but he was out on his rounds. So I’ve come to you in the hope that you’ll give permission.”