Death and the Cornish Fiddler (6 page)

“What did she say, Papa?”

“Nothing very much.” He decided to be honest with the child. “Actually they denied everything. Said that Isobel did not stir all night.”

Rose went as red as the flower after which she was named. “But you saw her.”

“I know I did. I can’t think why her mother is being so duplicitous.”

“Because she probably wasn’t there with her. She was probably out with Mr Painter.”

“You know I think you’re right,” John answered. He smoothed Rose’s curls which in her agitation had started flying wild. “Anyway I believe it best we forget it now. Let us speak of other things. Elizabeth?”

“You are utterly right. We are here on holiday, after all. So sweetheart, what would you like to do today?”

“Go in search of the monkey,” John’s daughter answered promptly, then looked puzzled when both her father and the Marchesa burst out laughing.

They did see the blind fiddler’s band, complete with its simian pet, quite frequently during the next three days. In fact, John thought, it was hard to avoid them. Wherever they went, either in the town or the surrounding countryside, they seemed to come across them, much to the delight of Rose.

On the day before the Furry Dance they set forth in the carriage to see the sea. It was only a short ride to the nearest point, Porthleven, and fortunately the day was fine. Rose was brimming with joy throughout the journey. John, watching her, felt a tug at his heartstrings that his late wife, Emilia, wasnot there to observe the child as she first glimpsed the vastness of the ocean. But he firmly thrust such ideas away, knowing that to dwell on the past would do neither him nor Rose any good. Instead he shared his daughters pleasure, hanging out of the carriage window beside her as the sea appeared in all its tumbling glory.

“It’s wonderful,” breathed Rose. She pulled John’s sleeve. “Why haven’t I seen it before?”

“Because we live in London. That’s a long way from the sea.” They abandoned the coach and made their way on foot to a wide cove where all three removed their shoes and paddled in the waves. Poignantly reminded of his honeymoon, which he and Emilia had spent in Devon, John remained somewhat quiet and withdrawn. But if Elizabeth noticed this she said nothing, while Rose was too preoccupied with the sand and the shells and the snow-capped waves to be even aware of his silence. After a while the two adults sat side-by-side on the damp shingle while John’s daughter played by herself. The Apothecary sighed.

“Poor Rose. She could do with a companion.”

Elizabeth’s black hair caught on the wind and a big strand of it blew loose. “Well, no doubt you will provide her with one in time.”

“What do you mean?”

“My dear, you are bound to remarry and have more children. You will meet somebody, have no fear.”

“I have already met her,” John answered, leaning back on his elbows and watching Elizabeth through eyes narrowed against the sun.

She turned to him, the expression on her face serious. “But, John, I have no wish to marry again. Oh, it’s not because I still yearn for my husband. I have put those memories behind me years since. No, it is because now I am independent and have been for such a long time that I could no longer bear the thought of sharing my life with another. Do you understand?”

“No.”

“I have explained the situation to the best of my ability,” the Marchesa said coldly.

“I find what you say incomprehensible. Surely everyone wants to find a mate.”

“You do, most certainly. But I would prefer to have you as a lover.”

“Then there is no chance of you following me to London when I go?”

Elizabeth gazed out to sea, pulling the remaining strands of hair loose so that it blew round her face. “I will visit you for a season but that is as far as the mood will take me.”

“Do I mean nothing to you?” asked the Apothecary petulantly.

She turned swiftly and kissed him full on the lips. “As much if not more than my husband. But it is I who have changed. Besides, I am older than you. You must find a young woman, John. A woman who can give you a family.”

Why, thought the Apothecary, do I have to fall in love with such difficult women? First Coralie Clive, the actress, wedded to the theatre and not to a husband. Then Emilia Alleyn, who had loved another man until the time she met John. And now the most confusing of them all; Elizabeth di Lorenzi who was determined to follow her own path - and follow it alone.

He sighed aloud and the Marchesa laughed and tickled him under the chin. “There, John. Be of stout heart. You are young yet.”

He got to his feet, rather inelegantly. “Come along. Time we went back.”

But Elizabeth was not paying attention, instead gazing out to sea. “What’s that ship making for the beach?”

John stared. “I’m not sure. But there’s something about it I don’t like the look of.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was smugglers.”

“Not landing goods in daylight, surely?”

Elizabeth gave him a loving look. “Oh, my sweet London boy. How innocent you are. The blackguards round this coastline are in charge of events. The number of law enforcers is pitiful compared with the smuggling gangs, which can number up to a hundred strong. But I think you’re right about that vessel. Let us be off.”

They called Rose, who came reluctantly, the pockets of her dress full of shells. Rapidly John dried off her feet and put on her shoes and stockings.

“We’re going to explore, my darling. So please to hurry.”

“But I want to watch the ship that’s coming in.”

“We can see that from further away. Now come along.” Eventually they dragged her away from the beach and made their way to the place where the fishermen’s boats were moored. There were several boats tied up within its embrace including a somewhat larger vessel than was customary. Elizabeth looked it over with a seasoned eye.

“As I thought. I feel certain the fisherfolk have another, more lucrative, way of making a living. Do you agree?”

“I do, Madam. I spy a low-life ale house further down the path. Would you be seen dead in such a place?”

“I would certainly. And to make my point, I reckon they serve some goodly spirits within.”

John chuckled, his good temper returning. “Then let us go and sample them.”

It was indeed a rough establishment. The place was thick with tobacco smoke which had discoloured both walls and ceiling, further it was packed with disreputable characters who mixed freely with honest fishermen. From the beams were hanging various bottles and herbs, and for a minute John was reminded of his Apothecary’s shop and felt a moment’s pang of nostalgia. Every eye turned to look at Elizabeth - probably the first woman ever to enter the place - and there were several growls and whistles of a lewd kind. John fixed the perpetrators with as dark as look as he dared, and bowed the Marchesa to a ramshackle stool, the only seat available.

Just as she had predicted, the cognac was of the finest and was clearly an illegal import, probably coming from Guernsey where English taxes did not apply. However, after one glass John grew anxious about Rose, who had been left in the carriage under the watchful eye of Jed, and he and Elizabeth made their way back. But they stopped short as they rounded the bend and the coach came into their line of sight, for Rose was standing outside talking to a woman. The Apothecary began to increase his stride but Elizabeth laid her hand on his arm.

“Don’t John. She’s talking to a Charmer.”

“A what?”

“A wise woman. This one is a Romany, a gypsy. She won’t do her any harm.”

John stared at the owner of tanned skin and black hair which had been plaited, long and thick, hanging to the gypsy’s waist. Into the plait she had woven flowers, while on her hip the woman carried a basket full of pegs, lace mats, lucky charms, and heather tied up in little bunches. Even while he watched he saw her hand Rose something, in response to which the child gave a polite bob. He would have called out but yet again Elizabeth silenced him.

“John, I told you, the woman is harmless. Rose is lucky to have been blessed by her.”

The sound of their voices must have carried on the breeze because both the gypsy and John’s daughter turned their heads in the direction of the newcomers. John caught a flash from eyes clear and fresh, then the woman heaved up her basket and walked away, leaving Rose gazing at the object in her fist.

“What did the Charmer give you, sweetheart?” asked Elizabeth as they approached.

“A good luck charm. See.” And she held out her hand.

John stared at a tiny little doll, about two inches in length and made of old bits of material sewn together.

“That looks interesting,” was all he could think of saying.

“She said it was very powerful and would protect me. That I must carry it always.”

“Well then you must do so,” John answered seriously.

“I shall, Papa.” She slid her hand into his. “She was nice, you know.”

“I’m sure she was. Did she tell you her name?”

“Yes. It’s Gypsy Orchard. She’s on her way to Helstone to sell her wares.”

“We shall probably pass her on the way back.”

And they did. As the coach left Porthleven and headed for the Angel Inn they saw the woman, strolling down the lane, quite solitary, but singing to herself as she went. Rose leaned out and waved, and again John had a flash of those clear wide eyes as Gypsy Orchard returned the salute.

Chapter 6

I
t was the night before the Floral Dance and the whole of the evening the town had been filling up with people, while the residents were busy decorating their houses with greenery and flowers. John, having put Rose to bed, had entrusted her into the care of Jed and Rufus, who were downstairs in the taproom consuming ale, and had walked round Helstone with Elizabeth, who had linked her arm through his in a familiar manner he had found extremely pleasing. Everywhere they looked, the citizens had been leaning from windows or shinning up ladders adorning their dwelling places with boughs, floral tributes, or a proliferation of both. The effect of this was to fill the town with a fresh smell which he had found quite delicious.

As they had promenaded they had met several of The Angel’s other guests. First they had seen Mrs Legassick accompanied by Mrs Bligh. John, who had not met the other woman before, was amused to observe that she was much younger than her companion. Quite petite, with a very good figure and reasonably pretty hair, she clearly fancied herself as being extremely attractive to the opposite sex, and made much of curtseying, simultaneously casting her eyes upwards then over the Apothecary. He could not resist kissing her hand and enquiring how she fared.

“I am extremely well, Sir. What fine company we have staying in our hotel to be sure. Why with you and Mr Painter I declare we hold the monopoly on the most handsome men in town.”

Mrs Legassick had fluttered about. “Oh, Cousin, how forward of you. Shame on you. Shame I say.”

Mrs Bligh had given her an amused glance. “Come now, Muriel, you have the same thoughts but are too nervous to voice them.”

“Oh la, Tabitha, I should die of mortification to speak as freely as you do.””Oh stuff.”

All this was said in a light-hearted bantering way, much to John’s relief, and Elizabeth saved any potential embarrassment by laughing, though John suspected it was politeness which made her do so. However at that moment the two ladies were joined by two men, who hastened up to them through the crowd.

“Ah, my dears, we are so glad we have found you. We asked for you at The Angel but they said you were strolling through the streets.”

“Strolling the streets,” echoed the other man.

“Oh Cousins, we’re delighted to meet up with you.” Mrs Legassick turned to Elizabeth. “My dear Marchesa, may I present my cousins Geoffrey and Gregory Colquite?”

“Indeed you may.”

“Cousins, this is the Marchesa di Lorenzi.”

Mrs Legassick said this with an awed sound in her voice and John wondered that Elizabeth did not use her more important title of Lady Elizabeth. But she was a mettlesome woman and probably would have taken any suggestion of that as foolish.

The two male cousins bowed, then straightened simultaneously, giving the impression that they were marionettes. But other than their similarities of speech and movement, they could not have been more unalike. One was extremely tall, well over six foot and with not a spare ounce of flesh on him anywhere. He was also, the Apothecary thought, totally bald beneath his wig, which bestrode his dome uneasily being somewhat on the tight side. The other man was quite short, not much over five foot, and inclined to be tubby. The tall man had a pair of spectacles which flashed over pale blue eyes; the short man had vivid brown eyes which sparkled as he spoke, which he now did.

“My dear Madam, it is a pleasure to be presented to you.”

“A pleasure,” echoed the other one.

They both bowed again and Elizabeth swept a curtsey. “Gentlemen, the delight is mine.”

Mrs Legassick spoke. “Let me explain our family. We are all Cornishmen — and women of course.” She tittered noisily. But both Mrs Bligh and I married Englishmen, who, alas, predeceased us. Consequently we decided to pool our resources and share a home. The brothers Colquite are the sons of our uncle Josiah and we often see them when we come visiting Cornwall.”