The Shadowcutter (4 page)

“Are we not going straight up to the house, sir?” Holt remarked, swivelling around on the tip-up seat to see where they were headed, as the carriage had made a sharp turn to the right.

“Apparently not,” said Giles. They were heading into a woodland drive, and the road had begun to wind.

“And there I was hoping for a pint in the servant’s hall,” said Holt. “I imagine the beer here will be a decent brew.”

“You’ll get port with the House Steward, with any luck,” said Giles.

“Maybe,” said Holt. “But I’d rather have a glass of beer on a day like this, and I dare say you would too, sir.”

“Yes,” said Giles. “But that will have to wait.”

The carriage then left the woods and suddenly they were driving around a large pond, heavy with white lilies, towards a fanciful-looking building on the far side. It had broad hints of the rustic about it, with a portico whose columns were painted tree trunks. On the portico stood Lord Rothborough with a young woman that Giles guessed must be one of the Marquess’s daughters. She was dressed in a riding habit made of sand-coloured linen and he instantly wished he might carry such an outfit back to Laura, as well as the pretty grey mare with a side-saddle on it, that stood tethered nearby. Perhaps a horse would absorb some of her attention? She had always loved to ride, and if they went riding together then perhaps she might find it easier to bear his company again.

“My dear Major Vernon,” said Rothborough coming to the carriage to greet him, “I cannot thank you enough for coming so quickly. I am sorry that my note was rather cryptic. The fact is – well, all will be clear enough soon. Charlotte, may I present Major Vernon?” he said turning to the young woman. “This is my eldest daughter Lady Charlotte Harald, Vernon She has a half-share in this unfortunate business, I am afraid to say.”

“Lady Charlotte,” Giles said, bowing to her. “An honour.”

“I am glad to know you too, sir. My father is always speaking of the great Major Vernon. It is excellent to put a face to the name.”

“So, this business –?” Giles said.

“This way,” said Lord Rothborough, going to the double doors of the rustic pavilion. They went into a charming hall, the walls of which were painted with garlands and goddesses and the ceiling with sky and birds. But there was no time to admire the decorations. Lord Rothborough had opened the doors to the adjoining room, which proved to be an elaborately tiled dairy, with marble benches all around the walls and in the centre one great marble table, upon which lay the corpse of a woman, her head decorously covered by a large white handkerchief.

A perfect place for ladies to play at dairymaids and equally perfect to house a dead body, Giles thought as he went over to the body. He lifted the handkerchief. The woman’s face was swollen and her features bore considerable signs of violence. She would have been young and handsome in life. He glanced down at her clothes – plain, respectable working clothes and altogether unremarkable.

“You did not find her here, like this?” he said.

“No, no, she was floating in the grotto pool,” said Lady Charlotte from the doorway. “I thought they should bring her in here. It is closer than the house, and cool. It seemed best to get her out of the heat, once we had taken her from the water.”

“An excellent suggestion, yes?” said Rothborough, with some pride.

“Yes, very,” Giles said, wishing Carswell were there. “I am sorry – where precisely was she? In the lily pond outside?”

“No, another pool. It is a little way from here, but not far,” said Rothborough. “We shall show you, shall we?”

“Yes, that would be helpful. Do you know who she is?”

“I think she is Lady Warde’s maid,” said Lady Charlotte.

“Lady Warde is one of my wife’s guests,” said Lord Rothborough.

“But we are not sure it is her maid,” said Lady Charlotte.

“We will know for certain when we get back to the house,” said Lord Rothborough. “She is not one of our people, though.”

Giles recovered her face with the handkerchief.

“Could you show me the spot where you found her?” said Giles.

“This way,” said Lord Rothborough.

Giles began wondering how he might send for Carswell without offending the ladies. He would be able to read the confusing signals and make sense of them. The dead woman deserved that – the nature of her death needed to be illuminated. It was a matter of common decency and Giles could not think of anyone better to do it. He wondered if Lady Charlotte could be made to understand this and convey the necessity of it to Lady Rothborough. She certainly seemed intelligent enough.

They passed through a gateway, that was either a ruin or pretending to be a ruin, into a gloomy shrubbery where the winding paths had been laid between high hedges of yew that had been allowed to grow into the most fantastic and grotesque shapes.

“What is this place, if you don’t mind me asking?” Giles said.

“We call them the Pleasure Gardens,” said Lady Charlotte.

“It was built by my grandfather,” Lord Rothborough said, “to amuse his young wife and keep her from wanting to go back to London, which he detested. We have the grotto, the pool, the Italian Maze, the rambles, the tea house and the dairy. Oh, and there was a large aviary out here at one time. I have to confess, you are not seeing it all at its best. To be honest, I cannot decide what to do with it. We keep the lawns cut and the hedges in check, the buildings in repair, but nature has had her way rather readily. I think some more serious renovation is required. But what?”

“You shall not spoil it, Papa,” said Lady Charlotte. “My sisters and I will not forgive you. We used to love coming here when we were young. I hope to bring my own children here.”

“You must help me draw up a plan then, Charlotte.”

“With pleasure. One can only hope that this unfortunate business does not cast a shadow over the place,” she said, with a sigh. “Poor woman.”

“Do the servants usually take walks here?” Giles asked.

“That is what is odd,” she said. “It is not part of the Park, which is more or less public, but rather it is reserved for our family. Our indoor people do not come here for their recreation. Half of them think it is haunted anyway.”

“Oh, that old story,” said Lord Rothborough. “A great piece of nonsense.”

“But they do believe it, Papa, and my sisters did for years.”

“But you never did,” said Lord Rothborough, with a smile.

“Of course not,” she said. “I think it was made up to keep the servants out of the place.”

“Here we are,” said Lord Rothborough. “The Grotto and St Gertrude’s pool.”

They had emerged, through another pretend ruin, this time with the suggestion of an old abbey about it, into a deep basin, surrounded by high rocky cliffs, heavy with vegetation. In front there was the pool, a mass of dark green water spread out in front of them. It looked forbidding even on such a bright day.

At one point the cliffs fissured to form the entrance to what Giles supposed must be the Grotto itself. A perilous looking bridge, without rails, arched high over the water where it flowed into the Grotto. A narrow path edged the pool, giving access to the the grotto itself, and at first glance it looked as if it had been made deliberately narrow in order to increase the thrill of the approach, perhaps to give visitors the sensation that they were in a scene from one of Mrs Radcliffe’s novels. An elaborate, expensive conceit, Giles thought, and then wondered if simulated decay combined with real decay had made the place dangerous. Even though the weather had been dry, the shade cast by the over-hanging trees and the large quantities of moss might have made the path slippery, even at the best of times.

“Has anyone every fallen from that path before?” Giles asked Rothborough. “Or the bridge?”

“Not to my knowledge. You girls never used the path or the bridge, I am sure,” Rothborough said.

“No,” said Lady Charlotte. “Very sensibly you forbade it. We had a little boat to get into the grotto.”

“How deep is the water?” Giles said.

“At least twenty foot in the middle,” Rothborough said. “But it goes down by steps. It was quarried out to form the cliff.”

A stupid young lady in silly heels, anxious for a thrill, might lose her footing and tumble and drown. but a servant, in her mid-twenties, wearing sensible flat boots (he had noted them) – would she be likely to risk such a path? Would she have any interest in exploring a grotto? What had she been doing there? That was the puzzle.

“Perhaps you could tell me how it was you found her, my Lord?”

“We left the horses with the groom, at the tea house, and then went on foot. As I said, I am deliberating what to do with it all, and it seemed a good opportunity to look it all over. We went exactly the route we have just walked with you and came in, and there she was.”

“Face down in the water,” said Lady Charlotte.

“At the edge or in the middle?”

“At the edge, in those rushes there, by the little jetty.”

“What time was this?” Giles said.

“A little after ten,” said Lady Charlotte. “I know because I had just asked my father the time, just as we came through the Italian maze.”

“And that was all you found?”

“Yes.”

“I sent the groom to get some of the gardeners so we could get her from the water,” said Lord Rothborough. “And then we put her in the dairy, as Charlotte suggested.”

“I suppose it is most likely an accident,” said Lady Charlotte. “At least I hope so. But it all seemed so strange. Papa and I were agreed on that at once. It was odd that she should even be here.”

“And so I thought I had better send for you,” said Lord Rothborough.

Giles took out his notebook.

“Certainly it’s a case for the coroner. That is Mr Haines at Market Craven, I think? And we need a doctor,” he said. “And strictly speaking this is not my business to investigate. We ought to tell Sir Arthur Felpsham and he should send some of his men.”

“Ah yes, Sir Arthur and his merry men,” said Rothborough. “That is precisely why I did send for you, Vernon, knowing you were in Stanegate. I do not have much faith in the County Constabulary and their Chief Constable. You might set them to find a poacher, if you were desperate, but I would not trust them with a matter like this, that may or may not be delicate. I scarcely need to tell you this – you must know it for yourself. The force in this locality cannot be said to be remotely effective. I did my best, but my neighbours and fellow justices are such a nest of Tories that I could not prevail upon them to attach sufficient importance to it. They do not seem to see which way the wind is blowing – Market Craven has three manufactories now, and another being built. The people are flooding in. The place is a disgrace, but will they consider expanding the force? And Stanegate – well, you will have observed for yourself how busy that is. With people of fashion too who will want to feel safe. But still old Sir Arthur keeps his place, with his dozy underlings!”

“That may be,” said Giles, “but I think it would be better if he were involved. I don’t wish to make an enemy of him. I cannot afford to do so, I am afraid.”

“You are right,” said Rothborough. “But we will be making a rod for our backs. Have you met Sir Arthur?”

“No.”

“Prepare yourself to be annoyed. Still, he will have to retire before too long, and this time, I will get a man in who knows what needs to be done. Someone like you, Major Vernon. In fact, the job would be there for your asking for it. It might suit you better than Northminster – being a countryman.”

Giles tried to think of a suitably bland response to this, and fortunately Lady Charlotte came to his rescue.

“Major Vernon?” she interjected. “Do you need me any longer? I think I ought to get back to the house. My mother will be wanting me, and I wonder if I ought to speak to Lady Warde?”

“I think I had better do that, if you don’t mind, Lady Charlotte?” Giles said. “But if you were with me, it might be useful.”

“Of course. May I go, then?”

“Yes, ma’am. And thank you – you have been extremely helpful.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and walked away, the long skirt of her habit elegantly tossed over her arm.

“There aren’t many girls who would have dealt with this with such a cool head,” Lord Rothborough said, with some pride. “My other girls – they don’t have her composure.”

“Women can be as sensible as we are, if we only allow them to be so,” Giles said.

“My sentiment entirely,” Lord Rothborough said.

“I want to just look over the scene a little more closely, just to satisfy myself on a few points. Have you a reliable man to keep the dairy guarded? Otherwise, I have my man Holt here –”

“Two of the gardeners can keep watch on her,” said Rothborough. “They can tidy up that creeper on the trellis at the same time – it’s in a shocking state. I can’t believe that Macgillray hasn’t set them on it.”

“And about the doctor – is there a man about here who has any experience in these matters?” Giles said.

“No, unfortunately,” said Lord Rothborough, scratching his temple.

“I did not like to mention it in front of Lady Charlotte, but Mr Carswell joined us in Stanegate yesterday. I would welcome his opinion. To be frank, I am not sure we can establish the truth of it without an experienced eye. He has told me himself that drownings are often misleading.”

“It would seem expedient to get him over here, then,” said Lord Rothborough. “It is not the best moment, of course, but that poor creature and justice must take priority. And if we are discreet, no-one will need know.”

“He would not need be here for long,” said Giles. “A morning at most. And he has a new patient in Stanegate whom he cannot neglect. A gentleman from one of the former Spanish colonies – Santa Magdalena – who is dying of consumption in rather miserable circumstances, apparently quite alone. But what is odd is that there seems to be quite a Spanish presence in the town at the moment. When we went to take our water at the Bower Well this morning, there were a dozen of them. It was most exotic and unexpected.”

“Ah, yes – that will be the former Chancellor of San Magdalena, and his suite,” said Lord Rothborough. “I had heard they were here, along the President’s widow, taking the waters. Fabulously wealthy I believe. They have taken over a whole floor at the Crown Hotel. I was intending to go and call on him. The talk is that he is only biding his time in Europe before he goes back and takes back the crown, so to speak. The island is important for us – there is a quite significant merchant colony there, Scots mostly, trading out of Glasgow, and we need to keep them safe. These people should not be ignored, even if they are out of power at the moment. But they are a little hard to keep track of, these erstwhile Spanish Colonials. They are always squabbling among themselves now they have thrown of the shackles of Spain. It is all coup and counter-coup. What did you say your man’s name was?”