‘You must excuse me,’ she said. ‘I need to go and speak to Mrs Heathcote about dinner.’
Crowther barely had time to bow before she had left the room, and Harriet watched her go with a frown.
‘Damn. I have upset her. I am an unfeeling sort of sister at times. But she is only eighteen, you know, and rather prim for her age.’
Crowther said nothing, but continued to observe Mrs Westerman over the rim of his very elegant tea cup.
‘I am trying to decide what is the right thing to be done, Mr Crowther, and poor Rachel’s attempts to be polite were an irritant.’
Crowther decided not to comment on her temper, but asked instead, mildly enough, ‘And what do you conclude, Mrs Westerman? What
is
the right thing to be done?’
She looked up into the corner of the room.
‘I shall start by saying what I think will happen now, and trust you to catch me if my conclusions are faulty.’ He nodded. ‘Well, then. First the Squire will arrive, and tell us that the Coroner is summoned and will be meeting with his jury in the Bear and Crown tomorrow afternoon. He will ask us for our opinions and agree we should examine the body for any further indications as to who the man might be, and why he has come here, and check that our unknown friend does not have a leg-break such as Alexander must have.’ She ticked the points of her narrative off on her fingers. ‘We will find nothing conclusive to add to what we already know. Tomorrow the Coroner will listen to us in a gentlemanlike manner, and the jury conclude that this unknown was killed by other unknowns for unknown reasons and ask God to have mercy on his soul. Ideally, someone will have spotted him coming from London and from there, as we know, all vice and evil makes its way. We shall therefore conclude that his destruction followed him from town, and that will be an end to it. Apart from the fact that you will be watched carefully for a day or two after the burial to check that you do not dig up the body to experiment on in your godless manner.’
Crowther smiled. ‘And that will be that.’
They were silent for a little while.
‘Do you think, Mr Crowther, that he was in those woods by chance?’
The question was asked lightly, but as he replied he looked at Harriet quite steadily.
‘No. I think he went there to meet someone, and either that person or another who knew of the meeting, attacked and killed him.’
‘And given the meeting place . . . ?’
‘And given the meeting place, he expected to meet someone from either Thornleigh or Caveley. I think you believe the same, and yet I doubt you suspect anyone in your own household. But that does not necessarily help us understand what the right course of action might be.’
Mrs Westerman stood and walked over to where the French windows gave out onto the lawns at the side of the house.
‘My husband and I were a little naive perhaps, when we bought this estate. It has not been easy to manage a household of this size, and look after its interests while he is away. I did it all at first for my husband and my son.’ She turned quickly, smiling at him. ‘I have a daughter too - just six months old. Her name is Anne. Born the day before her father sailed for the West Indies.’ Her features softened a little when she spoke about her children. Crowther began to ready himself for some fuller discussion of their unique gifts and graces, but she moved on. ‘Perhaps if I had my own way, I would abandon it even now, but I can be stubborn, Mr Crowther. This is now my home, the village is my home and Thornleigh seems to sit above it all like a great black crow. There is something wrong in that house. Something wounded and rotten. I am sure of it.’
He set aside his cup and looked up at her a little wearily.
‘And have been sure for a while, I dare say,’ he replied, ‘and now you have all the moral authority a corpse on your lands can give you, so you may have the adventure of exposing it. It will make a change from estate management. Oh, and as you described Thornleigh as nestling in its own valley a little while ago, I don’t think I can allow you to have it as a crow towering above the neighbourhood. Perhaps the black dragon in its cave.’
She looked surprised. ‘I am glad I called you, Mr Crowther. You are very frank.’
‘You summoned me from my bed before noon, have shown a terrible lack of deference to the local lords, and sworn at least once in my presence. You should not expect me to bother with the normal forms of politeness.’
She looked at him, but there was no sign of a smile to lighten his words.
‘I prefer it so,’ she replied, looking more pleased than he expected. ‘And you are probably right about my metaphors. I have always had a fondness for dragons, though I shall not malign them with comparison to Thornleigh. Thornleigh Hall can be a malignant spider’s nest when I next feel my rhetoric take hold of me.’ He did allow himself to smile a little now. She looked at him directly. ‘Are you not curious also? Do you not wish to know why this man died, and by whose hand? Those threads you gathered in the copse . . . I took that action to mean the puzzle interests you?’
He sighed and shifted in his seat.
‘This is not a parlour game, madam. You shall not complete a riddle and gain polite applause for it. You must ask impertinent questions, and however just your cause, it is unlikely you will be thanked for it. Many good men and women have refused to go down that path and perhaps you should think about following their example. I confine my work to the dead as a rule because the dead speak a great deal more truth, and are often better company than the living. For many years now I have preferred a dead dog to a hand of cards.’ Harriet was surprised into another laugh, as he continued unemotionally: ‘Perhaps I will help you drive out your nest of spiders, or dragons or crows, but I do so from a position of strength. I have nothing to lose.’
‘And I do? My reputation you mean? It is already known I can be a little outspoken, but yes, possibly I may do further damage to it by pursuing this business. So be it. I must do what I think is right if I am to look my family in the eye. Your assistance would be invaluable. I wonder how I can ask it, though. You may have nothing to lose, but I cannot see any gain for you in this. I do not flatter myself you offer your services for the pleasure of my company.’
‘Perhaps you should.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘No, madam, I have no intention of flirting with you, but you spoke before about the dangers of being isolated and how one’s judgement may become warped as a result.’ He looked down sadly at the design of the carpet under his black shoes. ‘I fear I am looking in the wrong place in my current work, so you take me from nothing of importance, and you know from my paper that I occasionally indulge an interest in the markers of murder. I have nothing better to do than help you ruin yourself.’
‘Whatever your motives, sir, you have my thanks.’
The door opened and the maid stepped into the room.
‘Ma’am, the Squire is here.’
‘Very good, Dido.’
As the Squire bustled in he beamed at Harriet with such open-hearted pleasure, Crowther’s thin frame was almost thrown back by the force of it.
Squire Bridges was a well-built man, perhaps some ten years older than Crowther, and could never have been mistaken for anything in his life other than an English country gentleman of the old school. He had the red complexion and solid girth of a man who enjoyed vigorous exercise and noisy dinners. Indeed, his personality seemed altogether too solid and massive for the gentle confines of the salon - it seemed to strain at the walls, questing amongst the furniture to spread as much goodwill as possible. Crowther felt immediately tired, looking at him.
The Squire flung himself towards them with his hands outstretched.
‘Dear Mrs Westerman, what a pleasure to see you! An ornament to the morning! And looking as ever the picture of health! I must take a proper look at you, my dear. For you know, Mrs Bridges will not let me rest till she has extracted every particular of your appearance from me, as well as all the news! And Miss Rachel is three times more beautiful this month than last - we just exchanged our good days in your hallway. We do not meet often enough, my dear. I feel it, and my wife feels it, and tells me so!’
Harriet stepped forward with a laugh and shook the Squire’s hand with great friendliness.
‘I am very well, as you see, sir. You may deliver good reports of us all. Stephen is blooming, the baby strong, and the latest news of Commodore Westerman full of fine winds and good officers! That is to say, he speaks well of those under his command.’
The Squire’s attention sharpened a little. ‘He has some doubts over Rodney, perhaps?’ Harriet said nothing. ‘Well, we shall see, we shall see.’ Then he looked enquiringly towards Crowther, who had slunk into whatever thin shadows the room could afford as if he feared the Squire would eat him.
‘Squire, this is Mr Crowther who took the Laraby house last summer. Mr Crowther, our local Justice and good friend to all, Squire Bridges.’
They made their bows, the Squire’s face lightening still further with the anticipation of a new acquaintance.
‘An honour, sir. I have heard of your reputation as a man of science and am glad to know you. Very glad indeed.’ He peered eagerly into Crowther’s face for a moment. Then, turning back to his hostess he became in a moment all serious concern. ‘Now Mrs Westerman, tell me of this sad business. All I know is a body was found in your woods this morning.’
Harriet proceeded to share with him all they knew of how the man had died and Hugh’s conviction that it was not his brother. The Squire’s face grew gradually more sombre, and as she continued, he could not refrain from exclaiming under his breath, ‘Oh, a sad business! How shocking!’
Harriet finished and the Squire was quiet a few moments. Then: ‘I am at a loss, Mrs Westerman. We can, of course, enquire in the villages to see if any stranger has been seen over the last two nights, and if anything might have given rise to reasonable suspicion. This is beyond all my experience, I am afraid. Dear madam, we are old friends so I shall not scruple to announce myself deeply uneasy. Enquiries must be made, indeed. The ring is a confusing factor; it darkens matters, darkens them considerably. Did the family have any knowledge of Alexander’s whereabouts over these past years?’
‘I have heard of none.’
‘There have been rumours,’ the Squire said, ‘mostly centred on London. I have not heard the matter discussed at the Hall. Well, the Coroner and his jury must be summoned. May I borrow one of your lads to show me the spot, and I shall view the body, of course, and dash off a note or two. A sad business indeed.’ He turned to Crowther. ‘And are you willing, sir, to make the necessary examinations of the body? We would be most grateful.’ Crowther bowed.
The Squire beamed. ‘Of course, of course. Capital. Good fellow.’
‘And who is the Coroner?’ Harriet asked.
The Squire spoke as much to the fireplace as to either of his companions, and scratched absently behind his wig as he did so.
‘Oh, a mean little man from near Grasserton. He took on the duties to add lustre to his lawyering. He’ll hold his session tomorrow afternoon at the Bear and Crown, I imagine. I’ll have to ask you to attend, my dear. And no doubt one of the jurors will write it all up for the London papers - they always do, these days. So sorry.’
Harriet put her hand on the Squire’s sleeve.
‘No matter, sir. Will you be able to dine with us when we have finished examining the body?’ If Harriet noticed the flick of the Squire’s eyes at the suggestion that she would be examining the body with Crowther, she gave no sign of it. ‘I believe Mrs Heathcote intends for us to be at table at four. If Mrs Bridges can spare you, of course.’
The Squire immediately brightened again. ‘Why! If I get sufficiently detailed news for her of yourself and your doings, she will gladly spare me most of the evening! I will go to the Coroner and arrange for the jury to be summoned.’
Harriet touched the bell, and Dido appeared to lead him away.
The Squire turned to Crowther. ‘Your servant, sir,’ he said, and left the room with a bow.
I.6
W
HILE THE SQUIRE began to marshal the limited resources of the law - himself, the Coroner and a Constable chosen by the local parishioners as the person least likely to give them any trouble - Harriet led Crowther out of the house and towards the body. They turned in at a collection of outbuildings, and passing by the current generous stables, Harriet took him to a smaller building in the corner of the yard which had housed the horses of Caveley Park in earlier times. It was a large open space, the north and south walls each partitioned into three empty stalls, and with a large unglazed window to the east with the shutters thrown back. The raw beams rose, ghostly, into the shadow of the roof ’s incline, and the stone flags under their feet were patterned by the heavy sunlight from the window and door. Motes of dust and straw shifted in the air. Odd pieces of tackle still hung from huge iron nails driven between the stalls, and the air tasted of lavender and old leather. In the central space in front of them a long table had been set, used normally in the yard for holiday and harvest feasts, Crowther supposed. Now the body was laid out on it, decently covered in a white linen sheet. It looked like an offering. There were cloths, a wide bowl and ewer on a bench under the window.