The Bull Slayers: Inspector Faro No 9 (22 page)

'Miss Kent has asked to be excused,' said Poppy Elrigg. 'She
suffers from wretched headaches and this one refuses to
disappear.’

Vince offered pills, Aunt Molly offered reliable home remedies
seconded very firmly by Imogen, while Olivia and her brother
offered sympathy.

'I was hoping to see her again,' murmured Olivia to Vince
and when he said 'Really', she put a hand to her lips, glancing
at Faro, who had overheard.

'Shh - tell you later.'

As Faro had suspected, Imogen Crowe was seated next to
him at the table with Hector on her other side. However, with
much good food and wine, particularly the latter, he found
himself oddly forgiving and forgetful of her disagreeable
qualities. They talked about books and Faro found her also
knowledgeable about his own particular favourites, Shakespeare and Mr Dickens.

Quite remarkably so, he thought, and found himself looking at her and remembering what Yarrow had told him about her
past. Miss Crowe having survived a gaol sentence and writing
books about it would never have been tolerated at most
Edinburgh dinner tables. In the society he knew there, she
would be shunned, a social outcast.

There was one more event to be celebrated as Reverend
Cairncross invited them to raise their glasses in birthday
greetings to 'Mark who now inherits the estates of Elrigg and to
Sir Hector who now inherits the title,'

In return Mark held up his glass to Hector. 'And you, my
dear cousin, have my blessing to excavate the hillfort, the
standing stones and any piece of Elrigg that takes your fancy.'

Hector was delighted, and another toast was drunk to his
success.

Faro was naturally suspicious of happy endings, but tonight
he listened, mellowed by good wine and content with the
conversations circling about him.

Across the table, Dr Brand deplored the gypsies' annual presence while Imogen Crowe defended them.

'They're not to be trusted, miss, there's always the danger that they leave our pasture gates open - they are not too fussy
about bars and latches, I can tell you.'

They aren't used to gates, Doctor. It is not part of their way
of life...'

Faro only half listened to the argument.

'Don't you agree with me, Mr Faro?'

Not quite sure what he was expected to agree with, Miss
Crowe speedily enlightened him.

They make their annual pilgrimage to the crowning of their
king at Kirk Yetholm every year.'

'Another king,' said Faro. 'Does this entail a mortal combat
like your wild cattle?'

Imogen Crowe eyed him coldly. 'Not at all - the gypsy king -'

But her explanation was cut short as Hector interrupted: 'Mr
Faro is fascinated by the cattle, Mark.'

'Are you indeed?' asked Poppy since Mark and his bride had
their heads close together, lost in some magic world of the
newlyweds. 'Do show him, Hector. The wooden box on the
desk.'

Hector brought out the yellowed parchment and laid it
before Faro. 'Perhaps you'd like me to read it to you: this is
their earliest recorded mention - when the Scots troops occupied us in January - see, 1645:

'What with the Soldiers and this continuing Storme, if it lye but one Month more, there will bee neither Beast
nor Sheepe left in the country. Your Honour's Deere
and wild Cattle I fear will all dye, do what we can: The
like of this Storme hath not been known by any living
in the Country. The Lord look upon us in mercy, if it
be his blessed Will.'

'Fascinating,' said Faro.

There is another account,' said Hector, warming to his
subject. 'Our neighbour, the Earl of Tankerville, celebrated his
son's birthday in 1756 by ordering a great number of the cattle
to be slaughtered, which, with a proportionate quantity of
bread, were distributed among upwards of six hundred poor
people.

'It's certainly a wonder the animals did survive.'

‘They had no predators, Hector,' said the minister.

'Only man,' put in Dr Brand. 'The worst predator of all.'

But Faro shivered, as the ghost of his recurring nightmare
glared down at him from the wall opposite. The head and horns
of an enraged bull.

When Faro and Vince left the Castle some hours later, dawn
was breaking and the ladies had long since retired. Only Imogen
Crowe remained, in earnest and, Faro admitted disgustedly,
argumentative conversation.

Although she represented the new breed of womankind of
whom he was a little contemptuous and a little in awe, gallantry
remained. However, his offer to see her safely down the drive
was scornfully rejected.

'Good heavens, no. I wouldn't dream of it.'

Alarmed in case she had misinterpreted his offer, he said hastily, 'Vince and I will be leaving in the carriage shortly.'

'Carriage, indeed. It's no distance at all and the walk will do
me good. I need the exercise and you gentlemen need your port.
Yes, you too, Hector,' she said firmly.

Hector looked so put out that Faro, regarding him sharply,
wondered if he was in love with Miss Crowe. A situation he
found personally unimaginable, although on closer acquaintance
she was pretty enough and intelligent too. But he cared little for
opinionated young females with their militant views regarding
women's position in society.

'If they ever get the vote, heaven help us,' he said to Hector,
who still looked annoyed at Imogen's rejection of his company as
he shared their carriage, silently wrapped in his own thoughts.

As they prepared to retire for what remained of the night, Vince
yawned: 'What a day, Stepfather. And what a curious wedding.
At least Mark is one suspect you can cross off your list.'

Faro didn't care to disillusion Vince by suggesting that the
possible intrigue of the pretty widow and her stepson had been
neatly explained, simply to give rise to another more sinister
reason for Sir Archie's demise: the obstacle to Mark's marriage
had been conveniently removed.

Faro would have given much to know the exact location of
Mark Elrigg, expert archer, when his stepfather died. Murders
had been committed for much less than Mark's and Harriet's
urgency.

Perturbed by his stepfather's silence, Vince asked: 'What do
you make of Miss Crowe?'

'Not a great deal,' said Faro shortly.

'She's quite a stunner,' was the encouraging reply.

'Indeed. I hadn't noticed,' said Faro, removing his cravat.
'And what about Olivia?'

'Livvy. What about her?'

'Aren't you being, well, a little unfaithful?'

'Who said I had to be faithful to Olivia?' Vince demanded
sharply.

'I presumed -'

'You presumed wrongly, Stepfather. I have no intentions but
those of the friendliest towards Olivia.' He looked out of the
window at the sun rising behind the standing stones. 'At
present.'

Faro was thankful for those two words when Vince went on: 'Besides it wasn't for myself I was putting forward Miss Crowe
as a marriageable proposition. She is a little old for me, past thirty, I should think. I had her in mind for you.'

You - thought -' Faro was at a loss for words.

'Indeed I did. You were getting along famously and I noticed,
and I'm sure everyone else did, what a handsome pair you
made.'

'Then you and everyone else are quite wrong.'

'Come, Stepfather, you really should have a wife,' Vince
sounded suddenly sober. 'You aren't all that old - in your prime,
most men would say, and Rose and Emily won't always have Grandma, they would take a young stepmother to their heart.'

'Indeed? As you took a stepfather to your heart at their age,'
said Faro in bitter tones that reminded Vince of how deeply he had resented his mother marrying a policeman.

'It was only until I got to know you,' Vince said meekly.

'And may I remind you that I worked very hard at that. You
were an obnoxious child.' Faro grinned suddenly. 'Amazing
that you turned out so well under my guidance.'

Vince shared the laughter and then Faro said sadly: 'I'll never
find another woman like your mother again. If I could, I swear I'd marry her. What I don't want is a clever opinionated wife, I
want someone nice, kind, loving and homely - like my Lizzie.'

Vince smiled. 'There is someone who fits that description
exactly, you know, Stepfather. And she is right under your nose
every day.'

Faro frowned. 'Who could that be?'

'Our housekeeper - Mrs Brook, of course.'

Faro opened his mouth, closed it again. In a voice heavy with indignation, he said, 'I have never even considered such a thing.
The whole idea is quite intolerable, Vince. I trust you are
joking,' he added coldly.

'Come now, Stepfather, give it a little thought. She has all the
qualifications my mother had. Homely, kind, a good cook - a damned good cook, come to that. And she is the right age for
you,' he added triumphantly.

'The right age, is she?' Faro demanded. 'Nearer fifty-five than forty. Really, Vince. I'm appalled. Quite appalled. I do
need a little intellectual stimulus beyond the kitchen stove and
the household accounts, you know.'

'You didn't get it from mamma, did you? But it didn't stop
you loving her and producing two daughters.'

Faro was speechless as Vince went on: 'Don't you see what
I'm getting at? You've come a long way since you met my Ma.
Granted she was right for you then but, alas, she wouldn't be
right for you now. You've gone up in the world, she would
never have kept up with you. You'd have left her in the kitchen
long ago,' he said sadly. 'You need a wife who could enjoy the
world at your pace, share your love of books and music, your
vast and ever-growing knowledge.'

'The kind of relationship you have with Olivia,' said Faro,
determined to have the last word on marriages.

'Perhaps. Time will tell.' Vince's expression gave nothing
away, but because he was equally determined, 'Like Mark and
Harriet, we hope. They seem well suited. Miss Gilchrist says
they have loved each other since childhood, but the vicar's daughter was not a suitable match for Sir Archie's heir. He wanted an alliance with this rich plain girl, coal owner's only
daughter. But Mark and Harriet wanted each other. As you saw,
true love won the day.'

Faro, listening silently, hoped it hadn't been helped by
murder.

Mysteries were by no means ended and next morning yet
another was thrown into the equation. Invited to accompany
Owen and Olivia back to Branxton, Miss Gilchrist was
extremely keen that they should see the old battlefield of
Flodden and the pretty villages of Ford and Etal.

As they met in the Castle grounds, Olivia said, 'I don't know
how I will ever manage to eat luncheon. Such a breakfast. I was
hoping to see Miss Kent again when we said goodbye to Lady
Elrigg. I'm very curious about her.'

Asked to explain, she continued, 'I am almost certain she is the
same Beatrice Kent who was at boarding school in Edinburgh at
the same time I was. Of course I didn't know her very well, she
was a few years ahead of me. And it was all hushed up.'

'What was all hushed up, Livvy?' asked Vice patiently,
knowing her weakness for going off on a tangent.