Death and the Cornish Fiddler (29 page)

If the idea which had seized him so strongly on the previous evening was correct he needed to act fairly swiftly. The question was how exactly? In order to clear his mind theApothecary decided to go for a ride. Walking round to the livery stable he hired the most docile creature they had available - a patient-looking roan that plodded towards him when fetched from its loose box — and proceeded out of Helstone, away from the sea and up the hill.

Panting and gasping, his horse, which had the whimsical name of Rajah, gained the top and refused to move another step. Feeling sorry for it, John dismounted and led it into the shade where it started to chew grass in a ruminative fashion. Sitting on a fallen tree trunk, John stared about him at the rolling and challenging landscape. He could see for miles, having a bird’s-eye view. From this point the town of Helstone looked small and unimportant. Yet contained within its heart was at least one murderer, and probably more if his theories about Isobel were correct.

The Apothecary’s attention was suddenly drawn to a small coach coming in on the road from Redruth. He stared at it fixedly, wishing he had brought his telescope. Sure that he recognised it he remounted the now refreshed Rajah and proceeded downhill in the general direction of the road. As he drew nearer he was convinced he was right and called out, “Jed. Stop. It’s me. John Rawlings.”

He saw the coachman look round and then pull the horses to a halt. Rather as he thought would happen, Elizabeth’s head, gorgeously hatted, was thrust out of the window. She was just about to ask what was happening when she saw him. “John!”

He swept the covering from his head and bowed from the saddle. “Madam Marchesa.”

“I didn’t expect to see you. Not yet, at least.”

“Nor I you, Madam. What brings about your early return?” In her usual frank manner she answered, “Your child is not happy without you, it seems. She is a dear soul but she craves your company.”

He was half pleased and half saddened. He longed for Rose to be independent but on the other hand fully appreciated the fact that the poor child had been left motherless and probably clung to him more than was customary. At that moment the little imp, grinning and hatless, thrust her head out above Elizabeth’s.

“I’m sorry, Papa.”

“Don’t be. I’m delighted to see you.”

“And I you, Sir,” she responded bravely, and his heart went out to her.

He rode behind the coach which rattled over the cobbled streets of Helstone till they came to the main thoroughfare and finally pulled to a stop in front of The Angel. Elizabeth dismounted, leaving the child to the mercies of Rufus, riding shotgun once more. She turned to the Apothecary with a smile.

“My dear, I am going to disappoint you. I am leaving you as soon as I have refreshed myself.”

He could only stare, certain that she, too, had been coming back to join him.

“I have much to do at home,” Elizabeth continued, smiling even more delightfully. “And I really need time to concentrate on it on my own.”

John immediately felt guilty. “Rose? Was she too much for you?”

“Not at all. She is a joy to have around the place and is most popular with the staff I can assure you. But it is just that I need time to myself. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” he answered. But inside he felt disappointed; disappointed that the Marchesa was returning his daughter to him and had found it impossible to be a mother to her. Disappointed, too, that his love for her was, now, clearly doomed to fade away. However, he hoped that he was showing none of this, continuing to smile as she went on speaking.

“I knew you would. So, my dear, let us have some coffee together before I depart.”

“Of course. I’ll order some immediately.”

He took Rose’s hand, looking down at her with much affection. “So you missed me, did you?”

She stared back up at him and for a minute, despite her red colouring and general aspect, Emilia peeped out. Seeing that, John felt suddenly totally depressed with everything but particularly with the development of this enquiry. He was swimming through molasses and every stroke he took was making things worse. He made an instant decision to reveal none of this to Elizabeth however hard she pressed him.

No sooner were they seated at a table, Rose happily sitting beside her father, than the Marchesa turned to him.

“Tell me, my dear. How is everything going?”

“Extremely well,” John answered over-confidentially.

“Have Mrs Pill’s party found Isobel?”

“No, and I don’t think they ever will. I reckon she is a victim of Loe Pool.”

“And what about the murderer of Diana Warwick? Are you any further forward?”

As a matter of fact I am,” said John, and meant it.

“I see. What do you intend to do about it?”

“I shall go to the Constable, of course.

Elizabeth shot him a look full of unexpressed thoughts. “You enjoy all this,” she said eventually.

“You know I do,” he answered shortly, then deliberately changed the subject. “May I call on you before I return to London?”

“But of course, I would be deeply wounded if you did not do so.”

But I am the one who is wounded, he thought. Your whole attitude to me and my daughter has hurt me immeasurably. Yet deep down he knew that it was his pride that was damaged rather than anything else.

“Then I shall,” he said, and stood up. “If you will forgive me, Madam. Rose and I must visit the Constable and make a report.”

She looked frankly surprised, much to John’s delight. “Well, I suppose this is goodbye.”

“For the present,” he replied stiffly, and kissed her hand. Rose rather spoiled things by flinging her arms round the Marchesa’s neck and embracing her warmly on the cheek. “Thank you for looking after me, Mrs Elizabeth.”

“It’s been a pleasure, sweetheart. Come and see me soon.”

“I shall come with Papa,” the child answered, and put her hand into John’s.

It hadn’t been a very dignified exit, John thought, as he walked to William Trethowan’s place of employment. He had left the Marchesa sitting alone, staring at him with a somewhat bemused expression on her face, as he and his daughter had set off purposefully.

“And that’s the way I’ll treat her in future,” John muttered angrily.

“What did you say, Father?” Rose piped up.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Tell me, was Mrs Elizabeth kind to you when you stayed with her?”

“Very. She is really nice. Are you going to marry her?”

“Most certainly not,” he replied forcefully, and strode forward.

He discovered the Constable at work and found himself considering that there must be little crime in Helstone, otherwise the man would be far busier about his duties. Trethowan put down his hammer and wiped his brow.

“Good afternoon, Mr Rawlings. What can I do for “ee?”

“Quite a good deal.” John turned to Rose. “Look, darling, at the old cat over there. She’s had a litter of kittens. Go and have a closer inspection.”

With his daughter out of earshot, the Apothecary rapidly described all that had taken place in Redruth, watching the Constable’s face as he did so. The man’s expression became more and more horror-struck as he listened. Eventually he spoke.

“I know Lord Lyle’s place up by Loe Pool. I shall make it my business to call there.”

“Don’t go alone, I warn you.”

“I wondered if you might come with me, Sir.”

“Provided we take some more men, the answer is yes. But I’ve got something else to tell you about the death of Miss Warwick.”

And John put forward the theory he had been considering the night before. Williams face fell as he listened.

“It’s a good conjecture all right. But how to prove it, that’s the question. I can’t very well go and accuse the person concerned.”

“But there are ways of eliciting the information.”

“You would be better at those than I would, Sir.”

John gave a resigned sigh. “You want me to find out for you?”

“If you would, Mr Rawlings I would deem it a personal favour.”

Rose was heading towards them holding a kitten. Once again John was vividly reminded of Emilia who had had a weakness for all animals.

“Oh, Papa, isn’t it sweet.”

“It would not be possible for us to adopt it, Rose,” John said firmly, cutting to the heart of the matter.

She pulled an adorable face, quite deliberately. “But…”

“No huts. The answer is no.”

“Oh, Papa.”

William Trethowan bent down. “Don’t worry, little maid. The mother cat lives in the yard. The little “uns can stay with her till they’um be bigger.”

“Can I come and visit every day?”

“That depends on your Papa.”

John gave a crooked grin. “We’ll come as often as we can, Rose. Will that do?”

“Oh, very well,” she answered, and kicked a stone, though only slightly.

Somewhat amused by this tiny show of temperament, the Apothecary took his daughter firmly by the hand and led her away.

Having called at The Angel to check that Elizabeth had departed - which he was somewhat glad to see she had - John returned to the livery stables and rehired the aged horse, together with a small, resolute pony for Rose. Then he rode with her at a circumspect pace, heading down Coinage Hall Street to the open countryside surrounding Loe Pool. There, saying nothing to his daughter, he ambled round the waterways circumference looking at the various dwellings built overlooking it. He spotted Lord Lyle’s house almost straight away. Set up high and surrounded by trees, it looked a grand residence even in the distance.

“Why are you looking at that house?” Rose asked.

“I know the man who owns it.”

“Is he nice?”

“No, not at all,” John answered, remembering their last meeting and how he had finally managed to bluff his way out.

“Oh dear,” she said, but got no further, for from behind them John could hear the pounding of hooves. Instinctively, he put out his hand and took the pony’s rein and led Rose into the shelter of the trees. Peering through the leaves, he sat silently, motioning his daughter to do likewise.

A man was coming hell for leather along the track, clearly an excellent rider. John had a moment of envy before he recognised the fellow as Lord Lyle. It was surprising to see him alone but his destination was obvious. Where the lane divided he took the left hand fork uphill and started the climb to the house that John had been watching. So his lordship had returned to his home in Helstone.

The Apothecary thought rapidly. He had managed to talk his way out of trouble when he had last seen the man. But what of the seven - the three women and four men involved in witchcraft. He had played cards with the satanic ladies and they had known perfectly well that he was in Redruth. But none of them had seen him at the ruined abbey. Could he continue the pretence of merely being an innocent visitor? It was worth trying, he decided.

“Was that the wicked man?” asked Rose.

“Yes, sweetheart. That was him.”

“Can we come out of hiding now?”

“He’s gone, so yes we can.”

As they trotted into the late May sunshine, John’s daughter said, “I enjoyed that.”

“What?”

“Hiding. It was exciting.”

The Apothecary looked at her in amazement. Most children would have been afraid of suddenly being told to take cover in the trees, might even have burst into tears. But not Rose. She was truly his daughter, a daughter to be proud of. With the thought of having many years to watch her grow and develop, John Rawlings burst into song as he continued his ride round Loe Pool.

With Elizabeth gone he was naturally going to find the evenings more difficult to organise. Having given the thumb-sucking little maid a handsome tip to check on Rose every half-hour once the child had retired for the night, John made his way to the taproom. There, sitting looking somewhat doleful, was his erstwhile travelling companion, Tim Painter.

“Ah, my dear friend, how goes it?” the Apothecary enquired cheerfully.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Tim responded gloomily.

Are you now,” John answered. He had been half-expecting the reply yet still it came as something of a shock. “How have you persuaded Mrs Pill to go?” he added.

“She has finally given up hope.”

“She has accepted the fact that Isobel is dead?”

Tim nodded silently.

“I’d like to see her before she leaves,” John said.

“She’s dining late with her beastly brother.”

“How are you going to live like that in future? The man clearly detests you.”

Tim turned his handsome eyes in the Apothecary’s direction. “Not as much as I detest him. But to answer your question, who knows what lies ahead?”

John looked at him with shrewd amusement. “What are you saying to me?”

“Just that. Kathryn and I are together for the moment.”

John could not help but laugh. “Are you saying that if something better were to present itself then you would be off? Have you no shame, Sir?”