Death at the Wedding Feast (18 page)

But at that moment there came a voice from the doorway, calling out merrily. People picking themselves up, the wounded being tended to, the dead being covered by fresh white tablecloths brought in by the ever-sensible Lady Sidmouth, all but the eternally silenced turned their heads.

Miranda stood in the entrance, dressed in a gorgeous nightgown and nothing else. Barefoot and without any kind of robe on the top, John felt she represented some old Norse goddess come to earth to bring summer. She stood immobile, staring from one to the other. Then she saw what lay there, cried out, ‘Montague,' and rushed towards the heap that Lady Sidmouth was just covering.

She stopped short. ‘Is the naughty man in his cups?'

Lady Sidmouth gazed at her gently. ‘No, my dear, it is a little worse than that.'

Miranda looked roguish. ‘He has lost consciousness. Oh la, that is a fine way to spend a wedding night.'

She began to tug at the corner of the tablecloth. ‘Oh Monty, you are a bad boy. I think it is time you came to bed.'

Viscount Falmouth straightened himself up and crossed rapidly in her direction. ‘Don't do that, Miranda. It is better that you don't see.'

‘You'll address me as Your Grace, in future, Maurice. Remember that I am now the Countess of St Austell.'

‘Whoever you are,' he snapped at her, ‘don't look under that tablecloth.'

‘Oh pooh,' she answered and gave it one final tug.

The mortal remains of her husband lay before her like a piece of butchered meat and there were cries from around the room as people saw him.

Miranda clapped her hands over her mouth and her eyes widened in a most fearful manner, then with a great groan she fell unconscious to the floor.

John leapt forward but did not reach her before the Viscount, who scooped her up into his arms, then stood staring helplessly about him.

‘Odds my life!' said Robin Sidmouth. ‘I do believe the lady faints.'

There followed a profound silence and just for a second John closed his eyes, thinking of all the duties that lay before him. The acrid smell of blood was suddenly everywhere and mixed with it the scent of hyacinths, sweet and beautiful. It was like the two extremes of life. The cruelty of people, the beauty of spring flowers forever mixed in one overpowering perfume. The Apothecary sighed, opened his eyes, and set about the tasks that must be done.

Eighteen

It turned out that three people had died in all. As well as St Austell and Mrs James there was a third guest that nobody knew particularly well, but still a lost life for all that. Of the wounded there were many more than John had first realized. These amounted to a simple graze as a bullet had flown past to several people having been hurt. The Apothecary and the surgeon were in the middle of giving life-saving first aid when Elizabeth came from upstairs and called Mr Perkins to attend. Much as John had suspected, Imogen was miscarrying her child. Which would, no doubt, be a relief to the anxious woman he had spied in the apothecary's shop.

At last the line of hurt people was dealt with and John was just sipping a cup of coffee, which he had requested in order to steady himself, when a very pallid Felicity came to stand beside him.

‘Mr Rawlings, I wonder if you would look at my arm. I think I might have a bullet in it.'

He noticed then that the shawl with which she had covered herself was bloodstained and as he pulled it away she gave a little shudder.

‘I'm sorry. Did that hurt you?'

‘Yes, it did rather.'

She gave him a brave smile but he saw as soon as he examined her that she had indeed a bullet lodged in her upper left arm.

‘I will bandage this up for you but I daren't remove the cause of the problem. We must get the surgeon to look at you fairly soon.'

‘Tonight?'

‘Yes, tonight. There's no escaping that fact, young lady. Where is your mother?'

‘Over there.' And Felicity pointed to where Lady Sidmouth was dispensing hot drinks and small eatables to the shocked and wounded.

‘How was it that you got shot?' John asked the girl, his opinion of whom was rising by the second.

‘I picked up a candelabra and threw it at one of them.'

John leant back and gave a low whistle. ‘We shall have to report all this to the Constable. By the way, has he been sent for?'

‘Mama thought it best to wait until tomorrow.'

‘I don't know that that was entirely wise. He really might like to see the scene as it is.'

‘But who is the Constable. Do you know?'

‘I have no idea because the job changes annually. But Exeter seems to have a system of each citizen chosen for the unpleasant task employing a certain individual to take his place. And if that system still holds good and if the individual is the same as the one I came across when last there was a murder in Devon, then his name is Tobias Miller and he is a first-class individual.'

Felicity gave a little shiver. ‘Must I go to the surgeon tonight? He seems awfully busy.'

‘Yes, you must, foolish child. It will be painful but it is best the bullet comes out as soon as possible, otherwise infection might set in.'

‘How do you know that it won't anyway?'

‘Because I have spread on a good paste from Lady Sidmouth's store cupboard. That will look after it very well until the bullet can be removed.' John looked round him. ‘Is there anybody else?'

But it seemed that there wasn't, and he decided that it was time he had a brief chat with Felicity's mother before leaving.

Lady Sidmouth had proved herself to be a woman made of steel. Her headdress had come off, she had bloodstains all over her dress but, nothing daunted, she plunged into caring for the injured and keeping up the spirits of the rest as if it were her bounden duty. Which, John considered, it probably was. She looked up as he approached.

‘Well, Mr Rawlings, this is one wedding you won't forget in a hurry.'

‘Indeed not, Madam. I can honestly say that it will be imprinted on my memory for ever.'

She smiled grimly. ‘Lady Imogen has lost a child, by the way. I had half guessed she was pregnant. Had you?'

‘Oh yes. It is better all round that that burden has been taken from her.'

‘Indeed. They say it was old St Austell's by the way.'

‘
What?
'

‘Apparently he has been interfering with her since she was a child. If it's true then he met his nemesis today.'

‘What a foul old bastard!' John said with vehemence. ‘He deserved everything he got. Of course I feel sorry for Miranda . . .'

‘I wouldn't do too much of that,' came the sharp reply. ‘I think she knew perfectly well what she was getting into.'

The Apothecary held up his hand. ‘Say no more, please. Let me have some illusions left. Now, my Lady, Felicity must see the surgeon tonight. She has a bullet in the arm which I cannot remove.'

‘Young Perkins shall come as soon as he's finished with Imogen. He's a nice fellow. Lives in Exeter. As a matter of fact he is quite a friend of Felicity's. Indeed I have certain hopes. Damn this going after a title business. If he's a sound man, then let nature takes its course.'

John gathered from this somewhat convoluted statement that Mr Perkins was a possible suitor for Felicity's hand.

‘Then will you get him?' he asked.

‘I'll go upstairs at once,' she answered.

Having reassured himself on that point, John surveyed the scene. Lady Bournemouth was spreading her girth on to a small chaise while Cordelia and Freddy both fanned her face frantically. Mr Cushen, very grey about the gills, was escorting Mrs Cushen out to their waiting coach. Robin Sidmouth had tired of trying to comfort Maud and had whirled round the room like a bee and was presently deep in conversation with Viscount Falmouth while Maud sat alone, a miserable and solitary figure. Meanwhile a group of strong young estate workers, obviously having been called from their beds, had come into the Grand Saloon armed with planks and determined expressions. They went first to the late Earl and regardless of the blood seeping through the cloth that covered him, hefted him on to the plank, shoulder high.

‘Where is he going to be put?' asked John.

‘The cellar is to become a temporary mortuary. It's cool down there, and besides the Constable will no doubt want to examine the bodies,' answered Elizabeth, returned from the room above. Her voice changed. ‘John, as soon as you are finished here I want to go home. I want to ride out into the night and search for those two old besoms. The fact that they got away has hurt my
amour propre
.'

‘It would appear that they did the world a service in getting rid of Milord.'

‘Yes, but think of those they wounded indiscriminately. Think of poor Felicity. Think of poor Mrs James – foolish, yes, but actually harmful, no. Think of the other man, a meek fellow in life and perfectly inoffensive in death. Should not they be avenged?'

‘Indeed they should.'

‘Then let's ride out. It will be a great adventure. In the darkness, you and I.'

Something of the excitement she felt began to penetrate his weary body. Much as he disliked riding at night, he felt himself wanting to accompany her. Besides, she was right. Those two creatures – had they been men all along? – must not be allowed to wreak such carnage and then walk clean away. They must be hunted down and tried by jury.

A thought occurred to John. Unless the couple had acted on their own volition, then there was somebody else to find, the man or woman who had masterminded the whole thing. For surely two such crazy people as the assassins appeared to be, apparently shooting at random, had really had but one target and that could only be the Earl of St Austell. The very number of his wounds was some proof of that. The rest of the volley of bullets would have been to mask the fact that he was the actual victim. The Apothecary thought more deeply and it occurred to him that Mrs James with her gossipy manner and her constantly clacking tongue might also have been on the list to be taken care of. As to the third man, a Mr Meakin, he knew nothing of him but he intended to find out.

He turned to Elizabeth. ‘As long as I am no longer wanted here I'll come with you. The night air might clear my head. By the way, where is Miranda?'

‘Lord Falmouth took her upstairs. She has been put to bed and Mr Perkins has given her a sleeping draught.'

‘Then that's as well.'

Outside it was cold and John suddenly began to shiver, realizing that he was suffering from delayed shock. Elizabeth glanced at him in the cushioned interior of the coach.

‘I think a large brandy for you, my friend.'

Once inside her house he poured himself a drink and sat by the fire, reliving every moment of the sudden and terrible attack. At that moment he longed to be with Rose, reassuring her, telling her that the old woman had come and that he had survived. And then he looked up and gasped.

Elizabeth had come downstairs, not clad as she normally was but in the guise of the woman he had met on his honeymoon, many years ago. She was dressed in men's clothes, her dark hair drawn up into a net and concealed by the hat that she wore. Her body looked long and lean and, to John's eyes, immensely attractive.

‘God's teeth,' he said. ‘You've turned back into her. To the vigilante.'

‘Yes,' she answered. ‘Now are you going to ride out with me or do you leave me to search on my own?'

‘I'll come,' he said, standing up. ‘Give me a second to change. But first let me kiss you. It has been a long time since I last saw you dressed like this.'

She laughed, and even that sound excited him. They clung together in a deep kiss and then she pushed him towards the stairs.

‘Change to riding clothes. We're off to seek those two murderous creatures.'

‘If we find them it will only be the beginning.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean that behind tonight's shooting there lies another brain, cool and cunning and utterly ruthless.'

‘I am aware of that. He must be drawn into our net slowly. But we will find him, don't you worry about that.'

‘It could be a woman who was behind tonight's bloodshed,' John answered, thinking of Imogen and the child she had so fortunately aborted.

‘Indeed it might,' Elizabeth said over her shoulder as she left the house and headed towards the stables.

John thought that despite all the horrors that the evening had held for him he had never felt so alert. Every sense was tuned to high pitch as he mounted his horse and set off, Elizabeth cantering beside him. She had turned in the direction of the wild moor and he, not knowing the terrain as well as she, just followed.

It was a clear, cold night; a night of mystery and illusion. The moon was tiny, a sliver held in the arms of the old moon. John felt heightened, ready to receive every signal that the night might send him. Just for once he no longer dreaded riding out, his mind concentrated on all the sounds of the impenetrable darkness. Beneath the churning of pounding hooves came the noise of other things. Of unseen creatures making their way through the undergrowth, calling out a warning. Close at hand a vixen screamed an unearthly cry. Something altogether bigger bayed a response.

Slightly in advance of him Elizabeth rode easily, her body almost seeming part of the black beast on which she was mounted. John thought how magnificent she looked in man's clothing and was vividly reminded of when he had first seen her, peering at her through the crack in a cupboard door while she undressed.

She must have read his mind because she turned and called out, ‘Shall we go to the Grange?'