The Lovegrove Hermit (13 page)

The news of Mrs Thorpe’s death soon spread throughout the neighbourhood. As expected, gossip and rumour added all manner of embellishments. She had seen a ghostly
apparition
of the hermit and missed her footing as a result of shock; she had been sleepwalking; she had tripped whilst fleeing the intentions of an amorous guest. Who? I wondered; my poor brother seemed to be the only candidate.

Rowland got to hear of it and came riding over to find out what had really happened and also to make another attempt at a reconciliation with his mother.

Lady Denby was, I think, genuinely distressed by the death of her friend. She was by no means lacking in feeling despite her blustering, high-handed manner and she had already been shaken by Rowland’s revelations and Sir Ralph’s illness. Rowland hoped her misery might soften her heart and make her more amiably disposed towards him. He slipped in through a side door and went up to see Sir Ralph first and perhaps, I suspected, negotiate a loan if the old man was sufficiently recovered to sanction it. However, he found Elinor reading to her father and she swiftly showed him the door.

Next Rowland sought out his mother, who was in the process of writing a difficult letter to Louisa’s sister, Mrs Lawrence. She rose in fury, berating him for bringing
disgrace
on the family and everlasting suffering to herself. She told him to go away and never return, and then, as he turned towards the door, she called him back, burst into tears, embraced him and begged him not to forsake her.

I heard all this when I encountered Rowland leaving his mother’s study. He was so obviously relieved and pleased and longing to tell someone that he poured it all out to me.

‘Of course, I’ve got to tread carefully and I scarcely dare mention Carrie. She won’t have her in the house but at least she wants me back. It’s a beginning. I’m to stay here tonight in my old room. She says she wants another man in the house now Sir Ralph is incapacitated. Carrie won’t be too happy about that. I’m going back now to explain
everything
to her but we can’t afford to be on bad terms with my mother, especially now there’s little Arabella’s future to consider.

‘I say,’ he added, turning on the way to the door. ‘What a dreadful business about Louisa Thorpe. That must have been an awful shock for Mama. I think that’s what softened her up so it’s done me some good at least.’

How typical of Rowland, I thought, that his view of a sudden death was coloured by how it affected himself.

Later that day Colonel Hartley returned with the coroner, Dr Stringer and another doctor from Ashdale who had been called on to perform the autopsy on Mrs Thorpe. The coroner wished to see the scene of the death and inspect the corpse, which was then removed to the laundry.

When the coroner had departed, Colonel Hartley sought
me out and asked me to accompany him up to Mrs Thorpe’s room.

‘You were there last night,’ he said, ‘and also this morning in my company and you are sharp-eyed and
observant
. I want you to look round carefully and give me your opinion.’

We entered the room and I stood by the bed, looking at everything we had seen that morning.

‘It seems to me,’ I said, ‘that several things have been moved very slightly – particularly the obelisks over the fireplace.’

‘Yes, that’s what I thought. And you remember I found faint traces of blood on one of them? Now there’s nothing.’

‘You mean someone’s been in here and wiped it clean?’

‘Exactly! Now see the writing-table. The letter she wrote to me was in the left-hand drawer. I closed it firmly after removing the document but now it is protruding about half an inch.’

‘Was anything disturbed by the coroner or doctors?’

‘No, I was present all the time.’

‘Have you read the letter?’

‘Oh yes, and I’ll let you see it when the time is right. It confirms the suspicions I already had about the death of poor James Rushworth.’

On leaving the room we encountered one of the maids, who gave us an odd, sideways look. I thought perhaps she was shocked at seeing me emerge from a bedroom with Colonel Hartley but she turned and begged my pardon.

‘Excuse me, miss – and you too, sir – but there’s
something
I ought to tell you. It may seem ridiculous and I know you may not believe me but I swear it’s true. You can ask
Thomas if you like – he didn’t see quite what I saw but he saw
something
.’

‘What did you see?’

‘This morning, sir – a man dressed as a monk in a grey robe – he was gliding along the corridor. It’s a bit dark along here and his back was towards me and that hood over his head so I didn’t see his face. I won’t say it was a ghost but I don’t know who or what it was. I saw Thomas coming out of Sir Ralph’s room so I called to him and we both went after him – or whatever it was – and he went into the Tapestry Room and Thomas went in and called me and there was no one there. The room was quite empty. I really did see
something
, sir.’

‘I’m sure you did. Sarah, isn’t it? You’ve worked here many years and I remember you were with old Miss Wilton.’

‘Twelve years, sir. Yes, I was kept on by Sir Ralph and her ladyship.’

‘Did you go in the closet?’ I asked, remembering my own experience in the Tapestry Room.

‘No, miss, it was locked. I’m not saying it was a ghost, but it was
somebody
!’

‘I’m sure it was,’ said Colonel Hartley. ‘Come along, Miss Tyler, let’s have a look at it now.’

We entered the Tapestry Room and as we expected, it was empty.

‘Where’s this closet you mentioned?’

‘Here.’ I held back the tapestry and showed him the hidden door in the panelling.

‘I didn’t know about this.’ He tried the latch and the door opened easily. ‘Sarah said it was locked,’ he said.

‘Yes, and that was strange because there is no lock – only
a bolt inside. Come and see.’

‘So our mysterious monk could have slipped inside, shot the bolt and been safe from discovery?’

I then told him of the experience I had had in the early days of my visit to Lovegrove.

‘I’ve always felt sure that the woman I heard was Louisa Thorpe but I wasn’t at all certain about the man. I distinctly heard a male voice and a woman’s but quite muffled. I couldn’t make out any words. I’ve always feared the man might be my brother – she was quite blatant in her advances.’

‘Yes, but I shouldn’t be too sure of that.’ He looked
carefully
around the small room. I could not see any difference in my surroundings but it could be that my recollection had faded. There was a candlestick and a small tinderbox that I could not remember but such items are easily disregarded.

‘Did you open the chest and find a skeleton?’ he smiled.

‘Oh, I certainly looked but it seemed to contain nothing but old musty curtains and counterpanes.’

‘Just as well you didn’t enter and disturb the happy couple. You’d probably have had a nasty shock – though not nearly as nasty as that suffered by the guilty pair.’

‘I think the door was bolted.’

‘Certainly it was – they wouldn’t want their assignation to be interrupted.’

He glanced around the room again and turned his
attention
to the daybed and peered at one of the crushed cushions. He picked it up and carried it to the window, calling me over to join him.

‘Hold this,’ he said, and I took the cushion in my arms. He carefully removed a long golden hair from the surface.

‘Now, whose is this, I wonder.’

A pile of mildewed prayer books lay stacked in a corner of the room. I removed a blank page from the back of one and used it to enclose the hair, which he placed in his pocket.

‘Someone has certainly been lying on here – sleeping, perhaps – or otherwise.’ He sank to his knees and felt
underneath
the bed. ‘I don’t think the servants dust under here very often,’ he added.

He then brought out a bottle of wine and a jug of water covered by a napkin and commented that neither looked as though it had been there very long.

‘We’d better leave everything as we found it. I’d like a closer look at this chest.’

He attempted to raise the lid and I went to help him, thinking he could not easily lift it one-handed, but he shook his head.

‘You say you looked inside?’

‘Yes, there was a key in the keyhole but it wasn’t locked.’

‘Now it is and there’s no key. I wonder what’s hidden inside? I suppose we could get it forced open but that would give warning to whoever is using this room. Leave it for now, I’ve seen all I want to see. It’s very hot and airless in here. Let’s go.’

We returned to the Tapestry Room.

‘Who do you suppose Sarah saw this morning?’ I asked.

‘Whoever it was had gone to search Mrs Thorpe’s room. Someone who knew about the letter addressed to me – or at least, suspected something of the sort might exist. Someone who needed to clean the marble obelisk more thoroughly.’

‘And he was dressed as a monk?’

‘The hermit was provided with two robes. He died wearing
one but I shouldn’t be surprised if the other is missing. I’ll check his cell. It probably used to be kept in his trunk with his other clothes but I can’t recall seeing it when we went through his things – can you?’

I shook my head. ‘I suppose it would be a good disguise, especially with the hood pulled low to shade the face. And when Sarah and Thomas followed him into this bedroom he shut himself in the closet.’

‘It seems like it. Quite a good hiding place as this room is never used.’

‘And what about the so-called ghost that the other maid – the silly one – said she saw gliding into the priory ruins?’

‘Oh, she certainly saw someone, though I’m not at all sure what he was doing out there.’

He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Charlotte …’ (It was only afterwards I realized he had called me by my Christian name for the first time.) ‘Don’t tell anyone of this, not even your brother. It seems to me this house hides one secret too many. Remember what I said before – take care!’

The next twenty-four hours were full of upheavals and
makeshift
arrangements. The coroner returned with a hastily convened jury who inspected the scene of the accident and viewed the unfortunate corpse. By now, Louisa Thorpe was decently coffined and placed on the dining room table, where she could be discreetly glimpsed before being lidded but not screwed down, in case her next of kin wished to view her when they arrived.

The inquest was held first thing the following morning and proceeded with great rapidity, a verdict of ‘accidental death’ being brought in within the hour, much to everyone’s relief.

Lady Denby had sent a trusted servant to take a letter to Morley Rectory in Cheshire to inform Mrs Lawrence of her sister’s death and inviting her, with her husband the rector, to stay at Lovegrove until the sad obsequies were completed. She had decided against using the post as she wanted to ensure an immediate reply. This she received the next day from Mrs Lawrence, rather terse and formal compared with her ladyship’s gushing effusion, saying she would be
starting
out immediately, but as her husband, the Revd Titus
Lawrence, was unable to leave his parish duties, she would be escorted by her son.

‘Two rooms instead of one, how provoking!’ cried Lady Denby. ‘Rowland must be moved, though I’d hate to send him back to that hussy he’s married.’

‘Why not put Mrs Lawrence in her sister’s room?’
suggested
Elinor.

‘What? The room where she died?’

‘She was already dead when she was taken back to her room – besides, lots of people sleep in rooms where their
relatives
died,’ said Elinor. ‘It can’t stay empty forever and it’s one of the best bedrooms in the house. There’s the Tapestry Room, of course….’

‘The Tapestry Room? Oh no, not there – it’s not at all
comfortable
. I suppose she
could
go in Louisa’s room and her son in Rowland’s but then, where do we put Rowland?’

‘The Blue Room?’

‘No, he might as well stay where he is and Mr Lawrence can have the Blue Room. It’s very small but young men aren’t usually all that fussy, especially if they’ve been away to school.’

That being settled, Mrs Thorpe’s room and the Blue Room were prepared for the expected guests. We used the
breakfast
room for all our meals as the dining room was otherwise occupied and this proved perfectly adequate as our numbers were so much reduced. Sir Ralph, who had been hoping to come downstairs, decided to stay where he was so that he could avoid the visitors. He had decided they were ‘not his sort.’ He did, however, promise to attend the funeral at the parish church.

There was some debate as to whether Louisa’s dead
husband’s family should be invited but as Mr Thorpe had been thirty years older than his wife they were few and elderly and lived a hundred miles away. Lady Denby decided it was enough to write and inform them of Louisa’s death. In any case the dead woman had not liked any of her in-laws, who strongly disapproved of Mr Thorpe’s marriage. Louisa had deeply resented the fact that he had left them all his fortune. I wondered if there was a particular reason for this; perhaps he was aware of a certain tendency to disregard her marriage vows.

‘If only Frank would return!’ exclaimed Lady Denby. ‘He was like a son to her. But we have no means of finding him in time. He said he was going away for a few days and then coming back. Suppose he returns on the day of the funeral? Poor boy – what a shock!’

No more apparitions were seen, though two of the maids reported mysterious footsteps being heard, creaking
floorboards
and the like. The cook complained of petty pilfering from the larder, but that happened occasionally and with so many people traipsing through the house there were bound to be irregularities.

Lady Denby had arrayed herself in deepest black, which I thought excessive as she was not related to the deceased, but her reaction to all the events of her life was nothing if not dramatic.

‘All got up like the Tragic Muse,’ said Elinor
unsympathetically
.

The local vicar, the Revd Amos Phillips, did not get on with the Denbys. At least, he would probably have got on well enough with Sir Ralph, but her ladyship was in charge of the household’s religious welfare. I am not sure what her beliefs
were but I am sure they were not conventional. Though she and her family attended the parish church fairly regularly, ‘to set a good example’, I fancy her taste ran to mysterious monks, renegade priests, walled-up nuns and sinister abbots rather than dull English vicars and curates.

Mr Phillips was elderly, scholarly, shy and retiring, as well as being extremely deaf. Rather than be bullied and hectored by Lady Denby he kept out of her way.

On this occasion, however, he felt obliged to visit the priory and offer his condolences to the family, at the same time discussing arrangements for the forthcoming funeral. Lady Denby asked me to be present during the interview.

‘Do help me to talk to Mr Phillips, dear. He is so very hard of hearing and I find it so tedious to repeat things. We must make sure he has understood all the important details – the small talk doesn’t matter.’

I thought he must be profoundly deaf indeed if her
ladyship’s
booming voice did not penetrate his ears.

‘I understand the unfortunate Mrs Thorpe was a friend of many years’ standing,’ he began gently.

‘She was my friend from schooldays. Sir Ralph and the others didn’t really know her.’

‘Perhaps you can give me some idea of the arrangements required for the funeral,’ he continued, ‘though perhaps I ought to see Sir Ralph as he will be the chief mourner.’

I wondered for a moment if Lady Denby would insist on attending the funeral herself in defiance of custom but she did not go that far. Throwing flower petals and making orations at the hermit’s interment were not the same as a proper funeral in church.

‘Well, I’m not at all sure about that;’ said Lady Denby.
‘We are not related after all. He will certainly attend if he is well enough, with my son and perhaps Colonel Hartley, but I am awaiting the arrival of Mrs Thorpe’s sister and her son – I’m not sure which one but the eldest, who was very close to his aunt, is in London and we are unable to contact him. I should point out—’ She broke off abruptly.

‘What’s that?’ she said, startled.

‘What’s what?’ enquired Mr Phillips.

I had heard it too – a sharp crack like a shot from outside – then another.

Lady Denby rose and went to the window. ‘How strange – two men are running towards the priory ruins. I think one of them is Colonel Hartley – yes, and the other is that
manservant
of his – the one who was in the army with him!’

‘Sam Bates? Then he must have returned!’ I exclaimed, rising to join her.

‘Returned from where? No, I can’t see any more.’

‘I’ll find out what’s going on,’ I offered, glad of a chance to escape.

‘No Miss Tyler, there’s no need – I’m sure we’ll hear about it soon enough. It may be dangerous….’

But I excused myself and left the room. I went through the vestibule to the side door and stood looking in the
direction
of the priory ruins but I could see nothing, though I heard a few shouts. Presently I ventured out and almost
collided
with Sam Bates, who was running towards the house. He was red-faced and somewhat out of breath.

‘Get back inside, miss! The Colonel would be very
concerned
if he knew you were here.’

‘Why? What’s happened? Where is he?’

‘Let’s get you indoors first, miss, and then I’ll tell you.’ He
escorted me back into the vestibule.

‘We heard something that sounded like shots,’ I said, ‘two shots – and saw Colonel Hartley and you running towards the ruins.’

‘That’s right, miss. Somebody took a shot at us from the old priory. It carried off the Colonel’s hat and the second one missed him. We ran back before he had time to reload.’

‘And suppose he had other firearms ready loaded?’

‘We had to take that risk. We’re used to being fired at but you don’t expect it in an English park.’

‘Thank God neither of you was hurt. But where
is
he?’

‘We had a good look round but couldn’t see anyone. Whoever fired the shots had vamoosed, as we used to say in Spain. The Colonel went back to find his hat.’

At that moment he came through the door, bareheaded with his hair even more tousled than usual and his face flushed, which showed up the scar more vividly. Yet his eyes were sparkling and his expression animated.

‘You here!’ he exclaimed. ‘I hope you didn’t venture out.’

‘Not very far,’ I admitted.

‘Oh, you foolish girl, you could have been shot.’

‘He’d already fired at you so I didn’t think I was in much danger – and you were running about, trying to find him. Who was it? Have you any idea at all?’

‘Someone who thinks I know too much. See here!’ he held up his grey hat and showed me two bullet holes. ‘Straight through, and too close for comfort. I can do without an arm but I’m not sure I could manage without a brain.’

If Bates had not been there I think I would have been tempted to throw my arms round his neck, so relieved was I at his escape and so anxious for his safety.

‘Sam here found the gunsmith who sold a pair of officer’s pistols to someone from this house. He had a record of the date, the cost and a brief description of the firearms in
question
. He also recognized the purchaser from one of your sketches. So this, and the letter from Mrs Thorpe, must have the villain worried. He’s aware that I probably have enough evidence to have him arrested but not, I fear, to hang him.’

‘But who?’

‘Presently. All shall be revealed in the best traditions of drama. I think now, Bates, it might be safe enough to fetch our horses and see them stabled here for a while. I was coming to have a word with Sir Ralph and give an account of the latest developments,’ he explained.

When Sam Bates had gone he held open the inner door for me, rather awkwardly as he was still holding his hat and was obliged to perch it on his head for a moment while he turned the handle. These occasional small stratagems and signs of clumsiness touched me to the heart, but seeing my expression he thought I was concerned for his hat.

‘Ruined!’ he said ruefully. ‘And nearly new. If the holes were a bit lower I might have had them hidden by a wider ribbon. No consideration at all, our assailant.’

‘You could have been killed.’

‘Not for the first time in my life. Cheer up, my dear – but it was foolish of you to venture out of doors after you’d heard shots. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again.’

‘I hope the occasion won’t arise. You must admit it doesn’t happen very often.’

‘And we’ll keep quiet about this particular incident. We can make up some story to satisfy Lady Denby – I don’t want to alarm anyone unnecessarily and I don’t want to put the
would-be assassin on his guard.’

‘But you are the one in danger.’

‘Which is something I’m well used to – as is Sam Bates. There’s no need to involve anyone else at present – which is why I’d rather not tell you everything I know at this stage.’

As we entered the main entrance hall we heard a babble of voices and discovered two visitors had just arrived. Lady Denby was there with the vicar beside her and she was greeting a short, stout lady with a high complexion and dark hair streaked with grey. She was dressed in mourning and her face wore a dour expression. Despite being rather plain there was enough of a family resemblance for me to
recognize
Mrs Thorpe’s sister. A young man stood beside her, obviously the son whom she had informed us would escort her and represent his parents at the funeral.

‘We are so sorry Frank isn’t here but I wondered if you knew where he might be contacted,’ Lady Denby was saying.

‘Frank?’ Mrs Lawrence looked bewildered. ‘Who is Frank?’

‘Oh, of course, I believe you don’t call him that. I know Frank likes his friends to use that name but his family
probably
don’t. His real name is Frederick, I seem to recall.’

‘I don’t know who you are talking about.’

‘Your son – your eldest son. I understood he was
christened
Frederick but liked to be called Frank. He was staying here with his Aunt Louisa but he left for London before she had that dreadful accident.’

‘I still don’t know what you mean.
This
is my eldest son Frederick.’ She indicated the young man beside her. ‘The person you are talking about must be an imposter.’