Death in the Dark Walk (18 page)

‘I saw several people, none of whom I knew.'

‘Could you describe them? This might be vitally important.'

‘They were all members of the
mobile vulgus
,' stated the Duke, waving a languid hand.

‘But that didn't stop you noticing them, surely?'

‘It most certainly did,' the nobleman answered, grinning again, and then he frowned. ‘But now you come to mention it, one of their number did momentarily attract my attention. You see, the little beast actually had the temerity to bump into me.'

‘Little beast?' repeated John, convinced he knew what was coming next.

‘Yes. Some vile child, all prinked up in blue, ran headlong into my path and we collided. I clipped his ear for him, I can tell you.'

The Apothecary shook his head in resignation. ‘The boy again!'

Richmond looked astonished. ‘You know about him?'

‘I most certainly do. He runs through the tale of poor Lizzie's murder like a persistent thread.'

‘So who is he?'

‘That I have yet to discover.'

‘But you're not saying he killed her, surely?'

‘He might well have done.'

‘I should hardly think so,' the Duke contradicted. ‘He was only small, you know. His head didn't come up much above my waist.'

‘And I presume he was fair-haired and blue-eyed?'

‘Yes. The collision knocked his wig off and I particularly noticed that his hair was light.'

‘If only I could trace his identity,' John muttered.

‘Ask Patty,' answered the Duke surprisingly. ‘She knows everyone.'

‘Miss Rigby? Is she here?'

‘Indeed she is. I can't abide the boredom of country life so I am usually accompanied by a lively companion. She's in the garden, sketching. Shall we go and find her? I'll get some champagne brought out.'

John stood up and bowed politely. ‘I would enjoy that, Sir. But there's just one thing more before we leave the house. A mere formality, I assure you.'

‘And what might that be?'

‘I seek permission to look at your coats. You see, the dead girl had a piece of torn material in her hand which I believe came from her murderer's garments.'

The Duke turned a little pale. ‘What a ghastly thought. But please feel free to do so. I have nothing to hide in that or any other regard.'

A quarter of an hour later, having searched through two large and elaborate presses, John knew that Charles Lennox was telling the truth. Amongst his dazzling display of splendid clothes, several of which were of the colour blue, there was not a single item that matched the ripped fragment.

‘Satisfied?' asked Richmond, who had hovered over John in rather an unnerving fashion.

‘Perfectly, Sir.'

‘Thank God for that. However innocent one is, one always manages to feel guilty in the face of officialdom, though I must confess you don't look at all like a dignitary to me. Now, shall we seek out Patty and have a bumper or two?'

‘It would be a pleasure.'

And with that the two young men, a great empathy between them despite their very different stations in life, sauntered into the gracious grounds of Goodwood House.

The girl they sought was not far away, for Miss Rigby, buxom and beautiful, a big creature in every way, was sitting beneath a nearby elm tree, sketching a rather rude piece of statuary which stood guarding the entrance to one of the long walks. She looked up as they approached and John saw that on her flaming head, as bright and vivid as a bowl of oranges, she wore a shady hat, while her dress, over its wide panniers, was of cool striped silk, trimmed with taffeta bows and a long apron edged with lace He also could not help but observe that her neckline was cut very low, revealing extremely ample breasts.

‘Ah, Charlie,' she called out as the Duke approached, and the Apothecary hid a smile at the familiarity. For despite all Richmond's assertions that he never regarded a member of the lower orders, Miss Rigby's accent definitely revealed somewhat humble origins.

‘This is Mr Rawlings,' Lennox said now, coming to stand by his light-of-love's side and looking over her shoulder at her sketch. “Zounds,' he added, ‘trust you to draw that.'

She grinned at him. ‘Too realistic?'

‘I should certainly say so. Anyway, you must behave with decorum in Mr Rawlings's company. He represents that powerful man, John Fielding, I'll have you know.'

‘The Blind Beak?' Patty surveyed the newcomer closely. ‘Well, I never thought one of his runners would look like you.'

‘Is that a compliment?' asked John, bowing.

‘It most certainly is.'

‘Mr Rawlings,' said the Duke severely, ‘is here to enquire about the death of that girl at the Pleasure Gardens. Now, there's no need to look nervous, sweetheart. He's a civilised chap and that's for sure. He knows we were in The Dark Walk at the time and he also knows what we were about, so there's no call for falsehoods.'

‘What I really would like to find out, Miss Rigby,' John put in, ‘is whether you saw anyone in the Walk and, if so, whether you knew who they were.'

Patty frowned thoughtfully but was stopped by the arrival of two footmen who appeared from the house, one bearing a silver tray and glasses, the other three bottles of champagne in buckets of ice. It was not until they had gone and she had downed a rapid glass that she finally answered.

‘In truth I saw several people, Sir, but none of them of any consequence. They were people from the country, if you understand me, sightseers and that type of person.'

‘And unlikely to know Elizabeth Harper?'

‘Yes, indeed.'

‘What about the boy,' asked Richmond, ‘the child who bumped into me? Had you ever seen him before?'

Patty shook her head. ‘Only earlier in the evening, creeping in to watch the lighting of the Cascade. I remarked him then because I thought what a pretty little thing he was, and so finely dressed. I wondered what he could be doing out on his own like that.'

‘Did you take him to be an apprentice?' asked John.

Miss Rigby shook her head again. ‘No. I thought him to be a nobleman's son who had slipped out of the house without his father knowing.'

‘How old did you reckon he was?'

‘About thirteen or fourteen.'

John looked grim. ‘Too young to be infatuated with Lizzie then.'

‘Oh, I don't know,' answered Richmond, cheerfully. ‘I was seduced by a maid when I was that age.'

‘Well,
you
are unusually scandalous,' Patty replied promptly. ‘Not all males are as bad. Are they, Mr Rawlings?'

‘Well, er . . .

‘There you are,' she said triumphantly.

John regained his composure. ‘Miss Rigby, just for my sake, could you tell me who you
did
see that night? People with whom you were acquainted, I mean.'

Patty drank another glassful. ‘Well, I saw Midhurst leaving The Dark Walk in a regular pet. I saw the Comte de Vignolles, with a face like a thundercloud. And, of course, I saw his wife.'

‘His wife?' John exclaimed. ‘Was
she
there?'

Miss Rigby frowned. ‘Well, yes, I thought I spied her, though not with her husband, it's true.'

‘Where was she?'

‘Making her way towards the Wildernesses, quite on her own.'

‘Are you positive it was her?'

Miss Rigby frowned even more deeply. ‘No, that's just the point, I'm not. I only glimpsed her from the back and had a momentary impression it was the Comtesse. I know her a little, you see, having been engaged to play whist with her from time to time.'

John did not answer, staring out over the formal gardens towards the parkland. Then he said, ‘But if she
was
there it could alter everything.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘That she had a stronger motive than most to kill Elizabeth Harper and if she were actually present instead of lying on her sick bed . . .' He paused and turned to the Duke, who was listening intently. ‘I saw the Comtesse only a few days ago, you see. She made a great show of knowing nothing about the murder whatsoever. I even called again and showed her the torn material, pretending I had found it in the street and asking whether it belonged to her husband.'

‘Damme,' said Richmond, refilling everyone's glass. ‘What a yarn! Will you stay to dinner, Rawlings? I'd like to hear more of this.' He turned to his sweetheart. ‘
Was
it her you saw, d'you think?'

Patty looked thoroughly perplexed. ‘I just don't know. Mr Rawlings, I wouldn't like you to accuse the Comtesse because of what was no more than a fleeting glimpse.'

John shook his head. ‘I'll be a little more subtle than that, I assure you. But thank you for the information; it certainly sheds a new light on the entire evening.' He got to his feet. ‘Your Grace, much as I would enjoy dining with you I regret that I must be on my way. I would like to see the Duke of Midhurst before evening.'

‘His place is near West Lavington, a bare ten miles. You'll cover that in an hour. Do stay. We like company here.'

‘Yes, we do,' said Patty, collecting together her sketching things. ‘Now, I simply won't take no for an answer. Will you dine?'

‘I'll have to attend you as I am,' answered John, indicating his riding clothes.

‘Informality shall be
de rigeur
.'

‘Then I would be delighted.'

‘La, here's amusement!' exclaimed the Duke, and opened yet another bottle of champagne.

By the time he left Goodwood House, John Rawlings was the worse for drink, though not wretchedly so, but rather in a way that had his spirits bubbling like the bumpers of wine he had just consumed. The redoubtable Blade, who had also enjoyed the hospitality of the Duke of Richmond's stabling, trotted through the Sussex countryside as if aware that the singing individual astride her was only too pleased to let his horse take him the ten miles that separated the two great estates. The estates belonging to the two young noblemen who had not only been lovers of Elizabeth Harper but, equally, had also been present on the night she met her death.

The afternoon sun had dipped low in the heavens, bathing the parkland of Midhurst Place with a roseate glow which transformed the somewhat forbidding mansion that lay at the end of the long drive into a warm and welcoming domain. Built in the reign of James I in an architectural style typical of the period, the Duke's ancestral home, with its multiplication of gables, its vases and heraldic animals, its mullioned and transomed windows, its many towers, obviously would, in the harshness of normal daylight, have a sinister air. Indeed it was, in the opinion of John Rawlings, just the sort of place in which a murderer might dwell.

And as he approached the house, the Apothecary almost found himself wishing that this impression might prove correct. For, so far, everyone connected with the killing seemed to be perfectly pleasant and reasonable and quite incapable of committing such a brutal act. Yet Patty Rigby's assertion that she had seen the Comtesse de Vignolles at Vaux Hall had given him much food for thought. Could the lady's apparent illness be masking a heart so jealous its owner was capable of violence? John wondered, as he arrived at his destination and dismounted, staring about, somewhat overawed, for the entrance to Midhurst Place vied with that of Goodwood House in terms of sheer grandeur.

A mighty front door, set within ornate pillars which supported a double-gabled roof, reared before him, and grasping Mr Fielding's letter in one hand in order to give him confidence, John announced his arrival by knocking firmly. Almost immediately, as if there had been some forewarning from the lodge keeper, a liveried footman answered, and the Apothecary found himself ushered through an enormous Great Hall and into a contrastingly cosy parlour situated in the west wing.

‘His Grace will join you presently,' the man said haughtily and, giving a slightly supercilious bow, left the room. John, delighted to have a few further moments in which to recover from the effects of Richmond's champagne, sat down on a satin-covered chair and closed his eyes. A second later, though, a slight sound from the doorway disturbed his rest and he jumped to his feet as he saw that Henry Wilton, Duke of Midhurst had come quietly into the parlour.

In the shadows of the Pleasure Gardens, John had thought him handsome, but now the Apothecary understood what Tyers and Richmond had meant by calling Midhurst a Miss Molly. For it was an effeminate youth who stood in the entrance, a pallid creature, slim almost to the point of undernourishment, whose large blue eyes gazed out at the world sadly from beneath an elegantly curled white wig.

‘Mr Rawlings?' asked the Duke of Midhurst huskily.

‘Yes, your Grace,' answered John, and bowed.

Henry Wilton nodded his head. ‘Then pray take a seat and tell me why you have called here. My steward said something about you representing Mr John Fielding.'

‘That is correct, Sir. I am here on his authority to ask you some questions regarding the death of Elizabeth Harper.'

The pale face flushed uncomfortably. ‘But I have already given a full account of that night at the Public Office. Mr Fielding questioned me personally. I have nothing to add to my original statement.'

Unmasculine he might be but centuries of good breeding had given the Duke a certain hauteur which now made him appear almost formidable.

‘Your Grace,' John replied with as much authority as he could muster, ‘new evidence has subsequently come to light and I must ask if I might search amongst your coats.'

‘My coats?' repeated Midhurst, obviously startled.

‘Yes, Sir. It has now been revealed that the murdered girl had a piece of material clutched in her fingers; a fragment which, or so it is believed, was torn from the garment of her assailant. Every person involved with the affair has therefore been asked to cooperate in this matter.'