Destiny's Path (43 page)

‘Never.’

‘And yet your wife came out to join you in Australia.’

‘She had nowhere else to go after my father died. My brother wouldn’t have her living with him, nor would her brother.’

‘Where is she now? Has she been living with you? That won’t look good.’

‘I could hardly throw her out. She stayed in my house at first, but my mother was there and Kathleen slept with her maid in another wing until I found her somewhere else to stay.’

‘And that was where?’

Conn sighed. ‘She was staying an hour’s drive away with a lady of my acquaintance, but unfortunately my wife grew stranger and stranger and in the end she went completely mad. She’s now been admitted to the Fremantle Lunatic Asylum.’

But this made the priest look very sour and disapproving. ‘If that’s the case, one can’t help worrying that you might be claiming this non-consummation to get rid of a wife who was going mad.’

‘I’m not. Kathleen wasn’t mad when we married, but she’d never let me touch her, fought like a tiger the one time I tried, just after we were married. I wanted children, you see. I still do.’

‘Which is the true purpose of marriage. Well, in that case we must have your wife examined by a doctor.’

‘The doctor at the asylum has already examined her.’

‘So he can vouch for her virginity?’

Conn closed his eyes, but didn’t see any point in lying about something which could be checked up easily. ‘On the contrary. She’s not a virgin – and that’s
not
my doing – and she has contracted syphilis.’

An intake of breath was his only answer, so he waited, not knowing what to say or do next.

The priest was looking at him with eyes narrowed. ‘I shall have to speak to the doctor myself. Can you stay in Perth for a few more days?’

‘Yes. I’ll do anything to get out of this sham of a marriage.’

But Conn didn’t feel hopeful as he went in search of lodgings. He had no idea what was going to happen next, after what he’d told them, and his experiences over the past few years hadn’t left him feeling optimistic.

There was only one thing he was certain of: he wasn’t going to visit Kathleen, had had nightmares about her since he left her at the asylum, hoped he need never set eyes on her again.

The following week Mr Hatton’s young clerk turned up at Ardgullan House, getting down from a cart which had stopped by the gates and then driven on.

Xanthe was looking out of her window enjoying the peaceful February morning, mercifully without rain for once, so she saw him arrive. As he hurried through the gates, carrying a shabby carpet bag, even at this distance she could see that he looked terrified.

She ran into the hall and as she flung the front door open, Ronan came from the side of the house and joined her under the portico.

When Mr Flewett saw them, he ran the rest of the way. ‘You haven’t heard?’

‘Heard what?’

‘Mr Hatton’s rooms burned down early this morning and he’s dead. When I was going to work – I go in early to light all the fires – I saw that the entrance was black and smouldering, but the neighbours had put out the fire by then. I noticed two men watching the house, and recognised them as Johnson’s men because they’d come to see Mr Hatton with him and waited for their master in the outer office with me. So I hid in an alley until they left.’ He paused for breath, looking extremely distressed.

‘Come and sit down,’ Ronan said gently. He led the way inside and saw Mary standing at the back of the hall. ‘Could you fetch us a tea tray, please?’

‘Have you eaten?’ Xanthe asked.

Mr Flewett shook his head.

‘Then bring some bread and ham as well, Mary.’

In the sitting room, their visitor collapsed into a chair, looking white and shocked.

‘I came here because I fear for my life,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Please don’t send me away.’

Xanthe exchanged a quick glance with her husband, but let him do the prompting.

‘Why do
you
fear for your life?’

‘Because I heard Mr Hatton had been found on the stairs – dead. The fire had started downstairs, you see. People thought he’d fallen and been overcome by the smoke some time around dawn. But I know he sleeps very soundly, because I’ve had to wake him up once or twice and it wasn’t easy. I doubt he’d have been woken up, even by smoke.’

‘Does he live above his rooms, then?’ Xanthe asked.

‘Yes, on the floor above and we store old documents in the attics. I go in every day about seven o’clock to light the fires, then his housekeeper comes in half an hour later. We have instructions never to wake him till nine o’clock.’

‘Perhaps this time he smelled smoke and went to investigate,’ Ronan said gently.

‘Well . . . that’s the other thing. I can’t see any
reason
for a fire to start. Mr Hatton told me once that when he was younger, he lived in a house that burned down, and he was terrified of the place catching fire. That’s why he didn’t risk servants living with him and acting carelessly. He personally put out the fire every night. He didn’t even leave smouldering embers, but poured water over them. And he had gas lighting upstairs and down, so he didn’t use candles. There was no need.’

As this information sank in, Xanthe looked at her husband apprehensively. Could Mr Johnson really have murdered their lawyer?

‘Can I stay here, please?’ Mr Flewett pleaded. ‘Just until I can think where to go? I don’t want Mr Johnson to find me.’

‘Won’t your family miss you?’

‘I don’t have any family. My parents are dead and I’ve no brothers and sisters. Mr Hatton was a distant relative but he sent me away to school till I was old enough to work for him. I always lodged with his housekeeper. He wasn’t a gregarious man. But he did look after me when I could have been sent to an orphanage and now that he’s dead, I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.’

The poor young man was so distraught Xanthe patted his hand and said soothingly, ‘Well, you’re safe here for the moment and we’ll certainly not turn you out.’

Ronan looked at her. ‘Johnson must have been trying to destroy the evidence, the paper Georgina signed.’

‘Or punishing Mr Hatton for doing it, or perhaps he acted for both reasons. Poor man, he didn’t deserve that.’ She felt a hollow apprehension in the pit of her stomach. ‘What are we going to do? Will Johnson come after us next?’

Ronan was silent for a few minutes, then said, ‘I’m going to talk to the people in the village. They’ll keep watch with me in case this place is attacked. I’d be grateful if for once
you
would keep out of danger. This is a time for a display of strength. Can you even fire a gun?’

She shook her head. ‘No, but I could learn.’

‘I’ll teach you myself once the present trouble is over. For now, I need to alert our people to the danger.’

She knew this was no time to assert her independence. ‘I’ll stay indoors, I promise you.’

There was a knock on the door and Mary brought in a tea-tray, with a plate of ham sandwiches.

‘I’ll get started. You tell the maids.’ Ronan left the room.

Mary watched him go in surprise and turned to her mistress for an explanation.

There followed what seemed to Xanthe a most amazing time. She found one of the maids nearby wherever she went in the house, unless she was with the young clerk, and for once the doors and windows were all locked.

After a hearty meal, Mr Flewett seemed to have recovered from his panic and when Ronan came in for his dinner asked what he could do to help.

‘Nothing for the moment. It’s dark now, but I have people keeping watch in the grounds. Can you fire a gun?’

Mr Flewett shook his head. ‘I’ve never even touched one.’

‘Then I’ll give you a knife later, just in case you’re attacked. You’d be best staying with my wife. Even if you don’t use the knife, I’ll feel better to know you’re carrying some sort of weapon.’

‘I’ll have one too, please,’ Xanthe said. She locked eyes with her husband until he rolled his eyes and said, ‘Oh, very well. If you must. But I don’t want you getting close enough to use it.’

That evening it seemed as if the clock hands were moving more slowly than usual. Conversation languished and Xanthe found herself listening for footsteps, or breaking glass or some sign that their enemies were close.

‘It’s more like Australia than England here in the countryside,’ she said at one stage. ‘People have to take care of themselves there because there are no police nearby.’

‘We have to take care of ourselves here in Ardgullan, too,’ Ronan said. ‘Each village is a little world of its own. I’m fortunate the local people don’t blame me for my brother’s behaviour. He let them languish, didn’t care whether they starved or not, didn’t do repairs on their houses, was only interested in his investments.’

‘One of the investments has paid off, at least,’ Mr Flewett volunteered.

They turned as one to stare at him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I forgot to tell you, I was so upset about Mr Hatton, but we got the news late yesterday. Your brother had invested in a ship’s cargo and it was thought that the vessel had sunk, but it hadn’t. It limped into a small port in India and had to wait for repairs, then it went on to sell its cargo at a profit, so it was away far longer than usual. You’ve got quite a lot of money coming to you from it.’

‘Ah!’ Ronan gave a grim smile. ‘That’s another reason why Johnson acted quickly, I should think. He knew that if I had money, I’d keep my home whatever he did, and no doubt he wanted to make sure we couldn’t use his daughter’s statement to have him arrested for fraud.’

As he opened his mouth to continue speaking, Xanthe heard something and stiffened. ‘Shh! Listen!’

‘I can’t hear anything,’ Ronan said.

‘I can.’ Mr Flewett looked at his hostess. ‘Voices in the distance. Faint.’ He looked at Ronan apologetically. ‘I’ve always had very good hearing.’

‘I’d better go out and investigate,’ Ronan said.

Xanthe grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t! You’ve got men out there. Let them keep watch.’

He lifted her hand gently away, giving her his crooked smile, the one he reserved for her only. ‘I can’t ask them to do something I’m not prepared to do myself.’

‘Should I come with you?’ Mr Flewett asked.

Ronan’s smile became a grin. ‘No. Stay with my wife. You’re not used to the countryside and would soon give yourself away – which I’m hoping our intruders will do as well – if that’s who it is.’ He turned back to Xanthe. ‘I’m going out through our sitting-room window. Wait in the kitchen with the curtains drawn and the outer door locked. I’ll come back into the house that way. Don’t open the back door unless you hear my voice.’

She couldn’t bear the thought of him going out into danger, but she knew she’d never stop him so she did as he’d asked and took Mr Flewett to the kitchen. ‘The knives are kept in this drawer.’ She selected one for herself that felt right in her hand and then, almost as an afterthought, put a smaller one into her side pocket. ‘Now we wait.’

‘That’s hard to do,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve brought trouble on you by seeking refuge here.’

‘It would have come of its own accord, I’m sure. Shh. Let’s keep quiet and listen.’

They heard faint sounds from time to time, but nothing to tell them exactly what was happening. She felt helpless – and angry.

Conn spent most of the day pacing up and down in his lodgings in Perth, or standing by the gate, watching people pass in the street. He’d hate to live in a town, where so many of the smells were unpleasant and where there were too many people to know who the passers-by were. He’d felt like that in Dublin, too.

He was summoned to see the priest later in the afternoon and went hurrying off to the Bishop’s Palace, which might be a ‘palace’ by Perth standards, but seemed small to him. He was coming to hate this place, he decided as he walked through the door.

He was kept waiting for a quarter of an hour by the large, ticking clock, and though he tried to contain his impatience, by the time he was at last shown into a small room to see the priest, his nerves were so tautly strung he had trouble speaking calmly.

‘I’ve been to see the doctor at Fremantle,’ the priest said. ‘I believe in investigating these matters very carefully. You married for better for worse, so we must be sure it was in no way a marriage before we let you loosen the ties.’

‘And?’

‘He says she’s had the disease for some time and if you’d had congress with her at any time since your marriage, you’d also have contracted it. You are therefore to present yourself at the Lunatic Asylum tomorrow so that he can examine you.’

‘And if I don’t have the disease? Which I’m sure I don’t, by the way?’

‘Then we can proceed with the annulment claim.’

‘How long does that take?’

‘From here? Probably two years. Does that matter?’

Conn closed his eyes in anguish. ‘Yes. The woman I want to marry is carrying my child.’

‘You’ve sinned.’