The Bull Slayers: Inspector Faro No 9 (23 page)

'Protecting the younger girls from scandal, of course.'

'What sort of scandal?'

Olivia regarded the two men, biting her lip. 'You know, I
don't even care to discuss it.'

'Oh, come along, now that you've told us this much, we're
intrigued. Don't be mean, Olivia,' said Vince as she glanced
uncomfortably in Faro's direction.

'Well - I don't know.'

'Oh, don't be a goose, you can tell Stepfather anything. I do.'
Vince chided her gently.

'Yes, but you're different. You're a man.'

'So I've heard,' Vince laughed. 'So is Stepfather. And he has seen and heard of most of the frailties of human nature, haven't
you?

'I'm afraid so.'

'Well, what was it? Don't tell me she cheated at exams?' said
Vince.

Olivia shuddered. 'Oh no, that was quite common.'

'Games, then?'

'We all cheated at games. No. It was much worse than that.'

'I know,' said Vince triumphantly. 'She flirted with the
gardener's boy and was seen kissing him behind the garden
shed.'

Olivia pushed him, laughing, then, suddenly serious, 'If only
it was just that.'

'Surely you can't get anything more serious in a girls'
boarding school than an illicit kiss with the gardener's boy -'

'Vince, listen to me, please. It was nothing like this. I mean,
normal.' She stopped and then went on rapidly. 'She was
expelled and the music teacher dismissed.'

That bad,' Vince whistled. 'Pupils do fall in love with their
teachers, especially in girls' schools.'

'You still don't understand. We didn't have men teachers at
St Grace's.'

'Oh?'

'This was a woman teacher.' Olivia gulped and blushed. 'They were caught - together - in bed,' she whispered.

Faro, listening to the conversation in mild amusement, did
not take in the immediate significance. Girls in schools
frequently slept in the same bed and his first thought was that
it was the fact of a schoolgirl sleeping next to one of the teachers.

But the emphasis 'together' and Olivia's accompanying
blushing discomfort removed all doubts. Although he had
encountered the homosexual's forbidden world during his years
with the Edinburgh City Police, he found it difficult to
understand - as did many of his fellow men, Vince included - that women were capable of a deep physical relationship.

Indeed, although there was a criminal law against male homosexuals, there existed no such law against lesbians, simply
because Her Majesty, outraged at such a suggestion, refused to
believe her sex capable of such depravity.

Faro sighed. Olivia's revelations gave an added motive for
murder. Two women who loved passionately and between them
the unwanted husband.

'It is also one possibility,' said Vince later, 'why there were
no children. Sir Archie was known as a collector of beautiful
objects. Presumably he regarded his lovely wife in the same
light. I wonder if he knew about Miss Kent when he married
her.'

'I doubt whether he would have considered it of any
significance, since most rich women have companions,' said
Faro.

'Perhaps he was impotent. That would account for no
children by his first marriage and the adoption of his stepson as
the future heir of Elrigg,' said Vince.

How ironic, thought Faro. A castle with splendid estates, a life, to the outside world, that had every material blessing and
yet Sir Archie had every reason to envy the poorest tenants on
his estate their quivers of children, many unwanted but
undoubted evidence of their boundless unrestrained fertility,
while his legendary sexual prowess was a lie.

‘I’d like to know a great deal more about Mark's relationship
with Sir Archie. From hints dropped by Aunt Molly to Olivia,
which she has now confided in me, I suspect that he may well
have been illused by him. She didn't call it that, of course, and
I doubt whether he ever spelled it out even to her. But there was
certainly a curious relationship between them.'

If that was so, it was indeed a motive for murder, Faro
decided gloomily.

Vince was to leave for Branxton with the twins and Miss
Gilchrist. The latter, enchanted to learn that Miss Crowe was an
authoress, had included her in the party.

Two extra passengers plus the luggage that had accompanied
the twins from Edinburgh created a difficulty for the carriage,
which comfortably accommodated only four people.

Heads were shaken but the problem was not insurmountable.
Vince, who was required to drive the carriage, should take the
twins and Miss Gilchrist. Lady Elrigg would be delighted to put
the governess cart at Mr Faro's disposal if he would be good
enough to take Miss Crowe with him.

Faro concealed his emotions carefully. But his sharp look in
Vince's direction asked clearly as any words: if this is yet another
plot to throw us together then they are in for a disappointment. He had already decided that Hector was enamoured with Miss
Crowe and she had shown no evidence that she resented his attentions. In fact, through dinner at the castle, she appeared to
be encouraging him.

Faro was happy to keep such observations to himself and wished the pair good fortune since it would seem to be a very
suitable match - if any man were found brave enough to take
on the formidable Miss Crowe.

And so the two set off for Branxton with Faro determined to
be agreeable and cautious in his conversation, risking nothing that would ignite the temper that seemed to match the lady's
flaming hair.

The weather was in their favour, sunny and pleasantly warm,
a day to loiter in the grandeur of hill and dale. Just clear of
Elrigg village, they had to pull into the side of the road to allow
a troupe of gypsy caravans passage.

'On their way to Kirk Yetholm,' said Imogen, who seemed
pleased at the sight of them and greeted the leading caravan in
their own language.

Faro was surprised at that and she laughed. 'The Irish tongue has its uses. Besides I was brought up among their kind in Kerry.
My grandmother was one of them.'

The caravans had stopped while she was speaking. A
withered old woman, her hair in long white braids, leaned
across so that she was level with Imogen. Toothless, she smiled,
obviously demanding her hand.

Imogen gave it to her reluctantly and Faro watched that dark
hand holding the white long-fingered one. The gypsy said some words and Imogen gave an anxious cry and tried to withdraw
her hand.

When she succeeded, the old woman shrugged and, turning
eyes milky pale in that dark heavily seamed face upon Faro, she
held out her hand in a demanding way.

Misreading the gesture he took out a coin from his pocket
and gave it to her. With an indignant cry, angrily she hurled it
to the ground.

'What on earth -

'You have insulted her,' said Imogen Crowe quietly. 'She wanted to tell you something important - something written in
your hand.'

'My apologies, please give her my apologies...'

'Oh, she understands English quite well, they just don't care
to speak it if Romany will do.'

Faro turned to the old woman. 'I am sorry, I did not mean to insult you.' And, although he also didn't believe in such
nonsense as fortune-telling, he gallantly held out his hand and
smiled at her.

The smile won the old woman. She shrugged and took his
hand, stroking it, her eyes closed, her palms surprisingly soft and warm for one so old, he thought. The soothing hands of a
healer.

But he knew when she looked up at him that healing was not
what she saw. Her eyes were sad, full of tears. And he knew
without any explanation or translation from Imogen that the
cold feeling filling his bones was the presence of death.

His own. The silence and the stillness of that moment seemed to last for an eternity.

'No,' said Imogen sharply, as the old woman murmured.
'No,' she repeated. Then, realising that Faro did not understand
the words, she spoke to the gypsy in her own language, very
gently, pleadingly.

It was enough. The cloud that had been hiding the sun
vanished, the road was again filled with the noise of rattling
carts, of jingling pots and pans, the smell of horses, dogs
barking and children's laughter. The shadow of death had
passed by and he and Imogen Crowe continued on their way as
if their journey had never been interrupted.

But Faro was conscious of Imogen Crowe watching him
intently, speculatively. Catching her eye, he turned away
sharply.

'What was the old woman babbling on about?' he asked
lightly. 'What did she want to tell me?'

'Nothing.'

'It didn't sound like nothing. Tell me what she said, I want
to know, Imogen.'

She looked startled. It was the first time he had used her
given name. She shook her head.

'She said I was going to die, didn't she?'

'No. No. Just that you were in terrible danger. But I could
have told you that,' she added.

Faro laughed. 'Could you indeed?'

She shrugged. 'I have the sight.'

'Have you now?' Faro asked with a lightness he was far from
feeling. 'Then let me tell you, young lady, there is nothing in the
least remarkable about such an observation. I am a policeman
and I've been in some kind of danger practically every working
day of my life and I will continue to be so until death puts an
end to it.'

She looked at him sadly. 'This time it is different. This
danger is from within - from where you least expect it. Oh -
look, over there.' She pointed to a handsome castle on the
hillside.

'That's Ford.' And obviously glad to change the subject,
'King James the Fourth spent the night before Flodden there.'

'Not, I suspect, as it looks now.'

'Well, the old tower still remains, they tell me. His room with its secret staircase leading down into Lady Heron's. They were enemies; her husband and their sons were prisoners of James.
Rumour has it that she was more than hospitable to the King.
She wanted to get on his good side, so she used woman's only
weapon. She seduced him with her charm and he was so
captivated by her that, before they made love, he removed the
chain of penitence that he had sworn to wear about his body
until his death. True or not, it was a fatal decision.

'We don't know what happened afterwards. Perhaps he fell
in love with her and she rejected him. But when he left there
was ill-will between them, a sense of betrayal - so much so that
he gave orders to set her castle to the torch, a poor thanks for
all her kindness. Fortunately it wasn't destroyed.'

She was silent, watching the road ahead. 'But enemies they
were.' And turning to him, 'You can't really ever love your
enemy, despite the Sermon on the Mount, can you?'

'Why are you telling me all this? Was this part of your gypsy
woman's warning?' he asked.

She smiled. 'No, I am telling you a story, that is all.'

Suddenly he remembered her book with its revealing flyleaf
and that he must return it to her. He did not feel like mentioning
it at that moment and he urged on the horse. She spoke no more
until they climbed down the steep hill to where Miss Gilchrist's
house looked down on the village of Branxton with its smoking
chimneys.