The Shadowcutter (28 page)

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“There they are,” said Carswell.

They were sitting on a rustic seat, with white roses trained over it. Both of them were wearing black, but one woman wore the sort of mourning that had nothing to do with grief, and everything to do with display. As a result she presented a highly picturesque appearance, in a complex lace bonnet and holding a black lace fan, all set off by her dark Spanish colouring.

“That is Mrs Ramirez, Dona Clara, on the right,” murmured Carswell, “and the other lady, with the book, is Dona Blanca, Martinez’s widow.”

If Dona Clara was the showier of the two women, Dona Blanca in her way, was equally striking, and far more to Giles’ taste. Her attire was quiet but elegant, and she had a beautiful, clear complexion. She was studying her book with great concentration.

Dona Clara looked straight at them and alerted her companion with a touch on her shoulder and a few words. For a moment Dona Blanca was startled, but then she smiled warmly towards them.

“Oh, Mr Carswell,” she said, getting up and walking up to them. She had a soft Irish accent that was pleasant on the ear. “How delightful to see you. You remember Dona Clara, I think?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carswell said, bowing to Dona Clara who had not risen. “This is Major Vernon, my employer.”

Giles made his bows and said, “We were hoping to speak to Don Luiz – do you know where he might be?”

“I believe he is doing some business,” said Dona Blanca. “He will be here presently. Will you wait?”

“Yes – if you do not mind?” said Carswell.

“Not at all,” said Dona Blanca. “It is so pleasant here. I had forgotten how beautiful English roses are!” She reached out and touched one of the blossoms.

At this moment they were interrupted by a boy of about four, his face red with fury and stained with tears. He pushed past Giles and Carswell and hurled himself at Dona Clara, howling. A moment later, his nurse appeared and three other children. All were in a state of uproar, all expressed in loud, rapid Spanish. Dona Clara threw herself into this fray. As she hugged her little boy, her long loose cuff fell back and revealed, for a moment, a most sumptuous and distinctive bracelet set with rubies and pearls which Giles could not help think he had seen somewhere else.

“Oh dear,” exclaimed Dona Blanca. “You must excuse us! Perhaps we should take a little stroll, yes?” She turned and said something in Spanish to Dona Clara who waved them away.

So they began to walk with Dona Blanca, back along the path they had come. Giles wanted to go back and examine the bracelet but could not think of a way of achieving that.

“They are wild children, I’m afraid,” said Dona Blanca. “But I think they are missing their home and friends there. It is hard for them, this exile.”

“It cannot be easy for any of you,” Giles said.

“Necessity demands great sacrifices of us at times,” she said. “Let us sit here. Red roses instead of white.”

“Lancastrians instead of Yorkists,” Giles said.

So they installed themselves in another rustic, rose-bedecked bower, this time on some scattered basket chairs.

“Yes, quite,” said Dona Blanca. “Which are you, sir?”

“In my profession it is best not take sides. But one might say that of life in general.”

“Oh yes, exactly, but sometimes one finds oneself in strange places,” she remarked.

“Like your poor brother-in-law,” Giles said.

“Yes. That he should have come here is still a mystery. But I must thank Our Lord that he sent you gentlemen to him in his last hours. What you both did was so kind. And now he will always be here, in this place.” She gestured about her. “He can have English flowers on his grave. I will have to make sure that he does.” She gave a sigh. “May I ask, why did you wish to see Don Luiz? Was it something to do with Xavier?”

“You may be able to supply the information we are after, in fact, ma’am,” said Giles. “Did Don Luis to your knowledge go to a dog fight at Byrescough on Wednesday, three nights ago – the night of the full moon?”

“The day of Don Xavier’s funeral,” Carswell added.

“That is an odd question, Major Vernon,” said Dona Blanca. “But he may well have done. I did not see him after dinner, and we dined early because of the funeral. He does often go out in the evening. It is the custom of Santa Magdalena, really – our gentlemen are not particularly domesticated.”

“So you would not be shocked to know he was seen at an illegal dog fight?” Carswell said.

“Not really. It is a cruel sport but, it is a great passion among the people of the island – that and cock-fighting. It would not be possible, as it has been here, to suppress it. I remember discussing this with my late husband, when the legislation was passed here. We always had an English newspaper – in fact we wondered at it being passed! It was quite impossible to think of such a thing happening in Santa Magdalena.”

“Lord Rothborough was one of the men who pushed it through,” Carswell said, and Giles was aware that he was studying Dona Blanca’s face. “I think you may know him, ma’am?”

Dona Blanca frowned slightly and said, “Why do you say that?”

“Because,” Carswell went on, “and I hope you do not mind me saying this, and forgive me if I am mistaken, but I think we have met before, when I was a child in Paris. I have a distinct memory of you, ma’am, from somewhere.”

“You do?”

“Perhaps my memory is playing tricks. But just sitting here these last minutes – and thinking about it, a great deal, since we last met – it seems to me, that I do know you.”

“You remember that you were a child in Paris?” she said.

“I have fragments of memories, that is all. I left just after my second birthday, I believe.”

“You were just two and two weeks,” she said, and then put her hand over her mouth. She was breathing hard, and looking down. “Oh.”

“So we have met!” exclaimed Carswell “I was sure we had. And you must know Lord Rothborough then. Perhaps you helped him, when my mother abandoned me. I think I remember you telling me the English for squirrel.”

She got up and walked away a little, and stood with her back to them. Her shoulders were rising and falling, as if she were struggling with some great emotion.

“It is rather more than that,” she said, in a quiet voice “It is...” She shook her head. “And she did not abandon you. If he told you that –”

Carswell jumped up from his seat, saying, “She did not? Then what did happen?”

She turned and came over to Carswell, her face now riven with misery, her eyes full of tears. Giles saw her reach out and touch Carswell’s cheek with her finger tips, her lips parted as if about to to speak, but no words came. The gesture was eloquent in itself and he was moved without quite knowing why. But then, as he looked at them both in profile and began to read that there were similarities there and despite Carswell’s striking resemblance to Lord Rothborough, there was another face that had added to his physiognomy. Carswell himself was staring at her, as if he too were reading the same signs.

A long moment passed and Giles had reached a strange conclusion, which at the same time seemed completely correct. Then suddenly, throwing her arms in the air, Dona Blanca exclaimed, “I did not abandon you, Felix! I gave you to him!”

She waved her arms a little and brought her hands to rest on his shoulders, but only for a moment. She pulled them away again as from a hot surface.

“Are you saying... are you saying...” Carswell said, catching her hands.

“I should not have said anything!” she said, wresting her hands free of his grip. “It does no good to anyone, least of all you! Forgive me!” she said, and this time she walked a fair distance down the path, with Carswell going after her.

“Are you saying –” Carswell began, but she was shaking her head furiously. “But, but –”

Giles glanced to his side and saw that Lord Rothborough was strolling along the path, in the company of the man he had seen at the dog fight, who was presumably Don Luiz. Giles remembered then Lord Rothborough’s intention to call on the government in exile.

“Ma’am, Carswell,” he said. “Lord Rothborough –”

He did not need to say any more, for in the same moment they both saw him.

“Don Luiz knows nothing of any of this,” she said, reaching for her handkerchief and wiping her face. “And I do not wish him to know.”

She began to walk briskly in the other direction. Carswell was about to follow, but Giles caught his arm.

“Let her compose herself,” Giles said.

“Did you hear what she said?” Carswell asked. Giles nodded. “What am I to do?”

“Keep your counsel for the moment, if you can bear it. This is not the time or the place. She is not ready. Consider what she must be feeling.”

“Do you think she is my mother?”

“I think so,” Giles said. “And you must respect her secrets, hard though that is going to be.” Carswell nodded and swallowed hard. “You will get to the truth sooner or later.” Carswell nodded again. “In the meantime, distract yourself with this – did you notice Dona Clara’s bracelet?”

“What? No.”

“That’s a pity. I want a second look at it. It looked familiar to me.”

Their conversation went no further. Lord Rothborough and Don Luiz had arrived.

Chapter Twenty-six

Felix was not quite sure how he got through the next ten minutes of useless small talk, of the sort he detested at the best of times.

But Major Vernon was right. She was entitled to her secrets. He could not go after her, no matter how many questions he wished to ask.

It began to rain, and mercifully all further conversation was at an end. Don Luiz went in to join his wife and children, while Felix, Major Vernon and Lord Rothborough hurried through the gardens to the entrance of the hotel.

“Let’s go to the White Hart,” said Lord Rothborough. “We can have a decent lunch and then go back to Holbroke.”

The White Hart was only a few yards from the Queen’s Hotel, so they did not repeat yesterday’s drenching. It was cool and discreet, and had a great deal of old-fashioned grandeur about it. Lord Rothborough was its owner and was greeted with more than the usual deference. They were shown into a blue-painted parlour, and a lunch suitable for princes was swiftly brought in.

Felix did not feel much like eating, appetising though it looked. He toyed with a piece of bread while Major Vernon and Lord Rothborough discussed the morning’s business.

“The reason I called on Don Luiz this morning was that I got a letter,” Lord Rothborough said, “from a reliable source of mine in Paris. He informs me that it is likely that Don Luiz is planning to return to the island sooner rather than later. The rebel government is crumbling fast. It is full of factions.”

“And no doubt, Don Luiz has his agents on the ground whipping up quarrels between them,” said Major Vernon.

“No doubt. How cynical you are, sir,” said Lord Rothborough, with a smile.

“I think he is probably a ruthless operator.”

“Certainly he is. My source did wonder what brought them here, though. Surely not just to take the waters. Apparently Dona Blanca was keen to do so, and he must fall in with his political trump card, I suppose. I am rather disappointed not to have met her. You spoke to her, did you not, Felix?”

“Briefly,” he managed to say.

“And what was your impression?”

“She was Irish,” he said. It was the best he could manage in the circumstances.

Mercifully Major Vernon, interjected: “My lord, how important is it to the Government that Don Luiz’s party is back in power in Santa Magdalena?”

“We have interests there, as I said, but it does not matter much who is in power, so long as they will do business with us. Why?”

“I think I may have to arrest him for buying stolen goods.”

“Good grief.”

“When you kissed Dona Clara’s hand, did you see she was wearing a rather opulent bracelet?”

“Yes, I did notice that. Rather surprising, with her mourning. And now that I think of it, it did seem familiar.”

“I think there is a good chance that is the missing bracelet from your parure, my Lord,” said Major Vernon. “That pattern is quite distinctive. And she is a bird of paradise sort of woman. Even in mourning, she cannot resist wearing the new trinket that her husband has given her.”

“That he got from Edgar at the dog fight?” said Felix.

“That is my theory at the moment, yes,” said Major Vernon.

“Which he got from Eliza Jones,” said Felix.

“And he may well have killed her for it,” said Major Vernon. “It is a pity I cannot question a dead man. We shall have to contrive a way to get Dona Clara to surrender her bracelet.”

“You will probably have to cut her hand off to do it,” said Lord Rothborough. “Some women are impossible about jewels. They seem to fall prey to them. They cannot resist their charms.”

“Like men fall prey to whores,” Felix could not help saying.

“Maybe so,” said Lord Rothborough, picking up the carving knife and slicing another piece of raised pie. “Are you going to eat anything more than that?”

“I seem to have lost my appetite,” said Felix getting up and going to the window.

“I wish you would eat, but at least that will leave you hungry for a good dinner at Ardenthwaite tonight,” said Lord Rothborough. “I sent a few more people over there from Holbroke, so you will be comfortable. From there you can join Major Vernon tomorrow and discreetly continue your investigations. Sir Arthur seems to be making a noose for poor Walter so you will have your work cut out, I fear.”

“That works in our favour,” said Major Vernon. “Though it will not be pleasant for Walter, a scapegoat will perhaps lull the real culprit into a state of false security. It may lead someone to betray themselves.”

“You think is someone at Holbroke?” said Lord Rothborough with a frown.

“Yes, I fear it might be.”

“No institution is perfect, of course – and what is a great household but a sort of institution?” Lord Rothborough said, sighing. “I should not be sentimental on that account, because it is such a dear place to me, and all the people in it are my people.”

Major Vernon got up from the table, having glanced at his watch.