Staines shook his head and groaned. ‘She did herself. I saw to all the other doors and windows, but she’d lock the back door and go up to her room. I’d usually hear her, but not always. I was tired, yesterday. I’d been helping Mr Lewis repair the roof of his barn, and must have gone to sleep the moment I put my head on the pillow. Oh, why didn’t I wait for her!’
‘Are you saying she didn’t come back into the house?’
He nodded. ‘This morning she wasn’t in the kitchen when I went for my breakfast, so I thought she’d overslept. I sent up young Liza, and she said the bed hadn’t been slept in. Then — ‘
He stopped and dragged his sleeve across his eyes.
‘Well?’
‘The kitchen door wasn’t locked. We went out, thinking she might have had a fall. But — ‘ he gulped, ‘she was down by the raspberry canes, at the end of the garden, and — and, she was stone cold.’
‘Dead? Had she fallen, could you tell?’
‘She was covered in blood. Bludgeoned to death, poor lass.’
‘Have you called a doctor? Or the constable?’
Staines shook his head. ‘Doctor Holt could do no good. I didn’t know what to do, with my lady not there, so I came to tell you.’
Nicholas turned to Jeremy, who had been standing by the door, listening. He looked horrified.
‘Send a groom for Doctor Holt, and the constable. And saddle my horse. I’ll go straight down. You bring Staines in the gig. Did you move her?’ he asked, turning back to Staines as Jeremy, looking pale himself, nodded and left the room.
‘I thought it best not to. There was nothing we could do for her, poor wench.’
‘Good man.’
‘I have to tell my lady, but I don’t have her direction! She said she didn’t know where they’d be after they’d visited her aunt. What shall I do?’
Joanna, having suddenly grown large and ungainly, so that even wearing a loose cloak did not hide her condition, refused to go out of the house apart from taking some gentle exercise in the small garden attached to it. Catarina, thankful to be away from her constant complaints, spent as long as she could over the daily marketing. She explored Lisbon on foot, admiring the many new buildings. Since convention demanded she take a maid with her she was thankful that Luisa had lived in Lisbon all her life, and was proud of her city so that she knew all the best places to see. At the same time Catarina was improving her grasp of the language, which she had rarely spoken since her mother died.
Sixty years earlier, on All Saints’ Day, just as people were going to church, the city had been destroyed by a large earthquake, followed by a huge wave which had capsized many boats, and a fire that raged for three days and destroyed most of what was left. Lisbon had then been one of the largest and most prosperous cities in Europe. Catarina had been old enough to remember her mother telling her how one of her uncles had been in Lisbon, one of the few survivors, and he had described how the house he was in had shaken, there had been a tremendous underground rumbling noise, and three terrific shocks, followed by the terrifying wall of water. Being on the outskirts, her uncle had been able to ride away.
‘There was great destruction all over Portugal, Spain and Morocco too, and the high waves reached the coast of England,’ Mama had said.
One day early in November she had escaped for a couple of hours, and was standing outside the Basilica de Estrela, admiring the white dome, when she heard her name.
‘Surely it’s Catarina Brooke? Catarina, how astounding to see you here! Are you visiting your mother’s family?’
Catarina turned, slowly. ‘Delphine. What are you doing here?’
Of all the people she might have met, her old school friend Delphine was the worst. She had been a noted gossip in the seminary, seemed to spend all her time writing letters, and had never been able to keep any secret. She was fashionably dressed in an olive-green walking dress and slightly darker green pelisse, and a chip straw hat was perched on her bright golden curls. An elderly woman, presumably her maid, stood slightly behind her, carrying a couple of parcels.
‘Oh, my husband, Captain Pearce, is here, doing something about the roads. He is in the army, and there is so little organization here since the French occupation we are helping. But you must come to dine with us. We have a sweet little apartment near the castle. Are you staying with relatives? And don’t you have a sister? Is she with you?’
Catarina thought rapidly. She dared not admit Joanna’s presence, or Delphine would insist on calling to see her, and that would be fatal.
‘I am staying with — with an elderly great aunt,’ she said slowly, praying that Luisa, who was standing just behind her, could not understand. ‘She has been very ill, and I am keeping her company. Jo — Joanna is with friends in London.’
‘Then I expect your aunt is not receiving — ‘
‘No, not at all, and she was rather reclusive before she became ill.’
Really, Joanna would be proud of her powers of invention, she thought wryly. She must be sure not to give Delphine their direction, for despite the mythical invalid, she suspected Delphine would contrive to visit.
‘Can you come to dine tomorrow? We keep country hours here, unlike the Portuguese, so I will expect you at four. I heard about your husband’s death, and I wrote my condolences, but I want to hear all about what you have been doing since. You are not a very good correspondent, Catarina!’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘It must be tomorrow, we are going back to England two days later. Oh, how wonderful to have run into you!’
What appalling timing, Catarina thought. Only three more days and this need not have happened. She considered her options. If she refused, Delphine would try to make a different arrangement, and would certainly insist on having her direction in order to contact her about it. She gave in to the inevitable, and hoped she could maintain the fiction.
‘I would love to dine. Thank you.’
‘I will send a carriage.’
‘No, no, that won’t be necessary. I’ve no doubt my aunt will have some commissions for me that I will need to do beforehand. She usually does, so I will use her carriage. Where is your apartment?’
She escaped soon afterwards, when Delphine recalled all the various tasks she had to perform before they left for home, and after watching her friend and the maid walk away, Catarina turned back towards their own apartment, walking slowly so that she could think what to do.
* * * *
Nicholas was relieved to see that the Dower House cook had not been so viciously attacked as Staines had suggested. There was a deal of blood, but it appeared to come from just one wound, a heavy blow to the side of her head. Doctor Holt arrived and pronounced her dead, which they all knew. Then the constable came and shook his head gloomily.
‘Poor woman, but she was asking for it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, sir, Ellen was always a flighty piece. The despair of her parents, though they tried to keep it quiet. Lady Brooke couldn’t have known what her reputation was when she took her on. After all, she came from ten miles away. But I’ve heard rumours lately she was meeting one of Farmer Lewis’s men on the sly. Married, Dan is.’
‘Mr Lewis’s man? Mr Lewis who rents the home farm?’ Nicholas asked. ‘So that could account for her breaths of fresh air late at night. You think this might be a lover’s quarrel?’
‘Aye, that or a jealous wife. Dan’s missus Annie has a vicious temper, and has given him a black eye or two since they’ve been wed.’
Jeremy was horrified. ‘This isn’t a woman’s crime!’
‘This was done with a heavy club, or more likely something like a heavy branch, not a fist,’ Doctor said. He was still examining the body. ‘Look, there are scraps of leaves and bark in her hair, which I swear didn’t get there except from the weapon. The blood has stuck to them.’
‘I’d best go and talk to Dan and his missus,’ the constable said. ‘And send a lad with a note for Ellen’s parents. Poor souls, they’ll be wretched. She was their only daughter. They may want her buried over their way.’
‘Doctor, if you have finished, can we put her in an empty stable?’ Nicholas asked, and the cook’s body was soon neatly stowed.
Staines had remained at a distance, but now he came forward.
‘My lord, how can I let her ladyship know? I don’t have her direction, I don’t know where her foreign relatives live.’
‘It’s near Oporto. I’ve no doubt her father’s partner will know. I’ll ride to Bristol and ask him. Jeremy, if I go immediately I may be able to return tonight. Can you deal with matters here?’
‘Of course. Staines, should we employ another cook for now?’
‘I couldn’t say, my lord. One of the girls can do all we need, while the mistress is away. I wouldn’t like to take the responsibility of engaging someone else until she comes back.’
‘If you need help, ask at the Grange. I have more servants than I need,’ Jeremy offered.
Nicholas reached Bristol several hours later. The roads had been dusty and busy, and he decided he would have to remain the night, his horse was too tired for the return journey. He stabled the beast and booked a room at one of the main inns, then set out on foot for the wine importer’s premises.
To his frustration Mr Sinclair was not there, and not expected back until the following day. Nor was he at his home, and his wife could not help, she did not know precisely where Catarina’s family lived.
‘I once heard her mention the Quinta das Fontes,’ he tried prompting her. ‘Could that be it?’
‘That sounds like it, but my husband will know.’
On the next morning Nicholas was able to obtain the full direction, and as there was a ship leaving for Oporto the following day, he left his letter to be sent by it. It would probably be faster than by the ordinary mails. Then he rode back to Marshington Grange to hear from Jeremy that the jealous wife, loudly protesting her innocence, had been placed in the village lock up.
‘One of Catarina’s maids had hysterics, said she would not under any circumstances stay here, so she has gone home,’ Jeremy reported. ‘I sent one of the grooms down to the Dower House to provide protection for the rest of them. Even Staines is badly shaken.’
‘But if this woman Annie has been apprehended, they are in no danger.’
Jeremy grinned. ‘Tell them that! They expect the husband to come wreaking vengeance on them. I must say village life is almost as exciting as Belgium!’
* * * *
Catarina had spent a sleepless night concocting fiction in readiness for the dinner party, but she had little need for it. There were several other English people there. It was, she realized, a farewell party for Delphine and her husband, and most of the conversation was to do with the political situation in Portugal, and speculation about whether the royal family would return soon from Brazil. The other guests were polite to Catarina, sympathised with her recent widowhood, and did not press her with questions.
‘You must write to me when you return to England and tell me how you get on at the Dower House,’ Delphine told her as she was leaving, but just then another guest captured Delphine’s attention and Catarina made her escape without having to give away her own address.
On the way back to her apartment she wondered whether Lisbon was too full of English people, and whether they ought to move to some other town once the baby was born. Joanna was too far into her pregnancy for them to travel now, and all the arrangements had been made for her lying-in, but once she was able to go out Catarina knew her sister would be determined to make up for the months she had spent hidden away.
She did not want to return to England in the depths of winter. The sea journey would be rough, and while she was here she would like to see more of her mother’s country. Perhaps they could go to the south, or even visit some of their cousins. Without the child they would be free, and Joanna was adamant she did not under any circumstances wish to keep it, or even see it once it was born.
Catarina felt as though she had never really known her sister. She’d always been aware Joanna was light-minded and reckless in her behaviour, caring little for the opinions of others, but she had not previously realized how callous she could be. She began to worry about what would happen once they returned to England. Joanna would not be able to go back to live with their uncle, nor would she want to. When Catarina had written to tell him she and Joanna were planning to go to Portugal his response had been curt and uncompromising. He never wished to set eyes on the ungrateful wretch again. The sooner she was one and twenty and he could hand over her fortune and all responsibility for her the better. Meanwhile he would arrange for Joanna’s allowance, which she did not deserve but which, as an honest guardian and trustee, he felt bound to continue giving her, to be sent each quarter into Catarina’s charge.
With a sigh she supposed Joanna would have to come and live with her at the Dower House. It was not that she didn’t love her sister, rather dread at the task of controlling her. What the girl needed was a stern husband, and perhaps they could go to London in a year or so for the Season and she might find one. Meanwhile they could spend some time in Bath so that Joanna might learn how to conduct herself properly in Society. Then she recalled Joanna’s disgrace at the seminary. Maybe they ought to go to some other spa town such as Cheltenham, or even Tonbridge Wells. It would be better to be where there was less chance of meeting people who might know of Joanna’s previous exploits.
* * * *
Joanna was uninterested in anything but the discomforts of the last months of pregnancy. Their best estimate for the birth was the middle of December, and Catarina had engaged a midwife, who promised she could find a suitable wet nurse for the baby when the time came. Joanna had reacted in horror at the mere thought she might have to suckle the child herself. She insisted to Catarina she would be happy not even to see the child. Then, in the middle of November, she went into labour late one evening.
Luisa was sent for the midwife, while Catarina tried to recall all she knew about childbirth. She’d thought they would have more time for preparation, but at least she knew enough to set water to boil and collect as many clean rags and sheets as she could.