The Wages of Sin Read online

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because my mother can listen and my father can talk. Both better than I can. You can talk to my mother about the cause of your grief, and listen to my father telling you that nothing in the past ever truly matters.’

  She shook her head sadly. ‘I will do as you ask. One day, if you still hold me to my word. But one day I know it is you who will – Matthew, please leave me now. Please.’

  ‘I can’t. Not with you as unhappy as this. Come and walk with me in the garden. Oh, get your pretty hat if you must, though I would prefer to see your hair.’

  ‘And if anyone sees us?’

  What I would like to have said was, ‘I shall tell them I am entitled to stroll in the moonlight with my affianced wife.’ Instead, I said with something of a grimace, ‘I am quite sure there is plenty of gossip about us already – and if there is, would anyone dare go and speak to her ladyship and complain? And complain of what? Neither of us is young; neither of us is married. And, Harriet, if she did dismiss me out of hand, she would regret it, because I do not think the estate could bear the cost of the compensation it would have to pay as well as the salary of a new agent.’

  She looked at me askance. ‘I had no idea you were such a hard man.’

  ‘My cousin is a hard-headed lawyer. And subtle, so that everyone thinks him the most amiable man on earth. Harriet, we can walk out together, open and honest, or sneak out guiltily like a tweenie meeting the boot boy. Which is it to be?’

  ‘The former. But I will wear my prettiest hat.’

  XV

  Mrs Baird finds me stealing rags. ‘But you had your monthly only a week ago.’ She gazes at me, eyes kinder than I imagined. ‘Into my room with you. Here, stand on these.’ More rags, because the blood is still running.

  Before I know it Nurse is with me. ‘Poor, poor chicken. Lie down. Let me see. No, no need to scream. I won’t touch you.’

  Over my head, she and Mrs Baird speak quietly, but with such anger. I say, ‘I’m sorry – I didn’t mean. I wasn’t reading.’

  ‘The library. And someone found you there?’

  I nod.

  ‘Who?’

  I shake my head. ‘Mustn’t tell. Our secret.’

  ‘Only one man says that. But Dr Webster should see this.’

  ‘Can you imagine him keeping quiet?’ Nurse demands. ‘Granny Hughes, that’s who we need. She knows more about childbirth than any man I know, and she’ll know what to do with that nasty tear.’ She stroked my hair. ‘Now, my chicken, we’re going to make you a bit more comfortable, but before we do we’ll give you a drink of his lordship’s – hey, what’s all that about?’

  Mrs Baird’s voice is tight and hard above my screams. ‘Can’t bear to hear his name, and who can blame her? We always knew he’d do it again someday. It’s my fault: I should never have let her in there. But I told her she must never let anyone find her there.’ She is crying. ‘If only I had some laudanum drops!’

  ‘Well, we haven’t, so go and find the cooking brandy. And some sugar and milk. The sooner she’s asleep the better, poor lamb.’

  SIXTEEN

  I was dressing for church next morning, when I heard William pounding up the stairs. He barely knocked before bursting in.

  ‘Please, sir, it’s the House! They’ve got the police there and you’re to go up. I’ve had Dan saddle Esau just to save a minute!’

  ‘Well done. My jacket, please. Thank you.’ As I matched him step for step down the stairs, I asked, ‘Do you know what’s going on?’

  ‘Got cuffed round the lughole when I asked, gaffer. I mean sir.’

  It was too lovely a day to have to spur Esau into action. I would rather have dawdled along on foot, like the birds raising my voice in song, if, of course, I could have sung, with my face stretched as it was in a huge silly grin. I would have betrayed myself immediately, of course, and Harriet. As it was we exchanged the briefest of glances, as I hurried to the library where a harassed footman told me the officers were waiting.

  ‘Where is Mr Bowman?’ I asked as we strode along. I ran through any number of scenarios, including my arrest or his, but none quite made sense.

  ‘Mr Bowman is unwell this morning.’ The footman paused and looked around cautiously. ‘Shall I see what strong black coffee will do for him, sir?’

  I grinned. ‘Excellent notion. Now, Thatcher, I have another idea. I will receive the policemen not in a family room like the library, where we might be disturbed, but in my office.’

  ‘Shall I bring coffee and tea there, sir?’

  ‘Another good idea. It would be good if it was waiting there when our visitors are shown in. After that, we must not be disturbed unless I ring.’

  ‘Very well, sir.’ His voice sank into that sepulchral tone of acquiescence that Bowman sometimes favoured.

  Ushered with great formality into my office, dominated by the great desk that I had inherited and would never have chosen, the officers were inclined to stand, though at last they responded to my gentle but firm insistence. Experience had long taught me it was harder to quarrel if everyone was seated, equipped, moreover, with a china cup and saucer.

  Elias Pritchard, our very talented bewhiskered wicket-keeper, happened also to be our village constable. This morning he looked supremely uncomfortable. I suspected that it was not just the fact he was in the imposing company of a tall thin man my age who introduced himself as Sergeant Burrows of the Shrewsbury Constabulary. It was probably more to do with the fact that we were a good combination on the field of play and he didn’t like mixing his professional role with his sporting one – a dichotomy I knew all too well myself, after all. Sergeant Burrows was even more hirsute than my teammate, his bright ginger beard descending to mid-chest. They both tugged their uniforms to straighten them, as if intimidated by such a distinguished residence: even this downstairs room was bigger than the average cottage.

  ‘We were hoping to speak to his lordship, sir,’ Burrows declared, firmly replacing his cup and saucer on the extreme edge of the desk. After staring uncertainly at it for a moment, he pushed it in a further inch or two.

  ‘I’m sorry to have to confirm what I am sure you have already been told: his lordship is not at home.’

  ‘That’s what young Thatcher said, but that just means he doesn’t want to receive visitors, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Often it is a polite lie,’ I agreed. ‘But in this case it’s the literal truth. Lord Croft is away visiting friends. I believe he is engaged on a cricketing holiday, going from one great house like this to another to play teams of other aristocratic young men.’

  ‘You believe?’ Burrows narrowed his eyes: he was clearly more alert than I’d originally given him credit for.

  ‘Officer, I am a mere employee, not his friend. Perhaps her ladyship will have more information but it would be a brave man who tried to speak to her before midday,’ I added with a rueful smile. ‘You might need to make an appointment too; people – even public servants like yourselves – never drop in casually to speak to her.’

  ‘Would her ladyship’s maid be informed? She might have seen a letter lying around, or some such.’

  ‘Mlle Hortense,’ Elias put in. ‘But she’s no longer employed here. News gets around fast, doesn’t it, Mr Rowsley, in a village like this.’

  ‘She found a new post with a young lady living some way from here,’ I agreed. ‘She left a note to that effect for Mrs Faulkner, together with a forwarding address. I’m sure Mrs Faulkner will give it to you. But believe me, I really do not know when his lordship proposes to return. I did ask her ladyship myself, but she assured me it was none of my business.’ They exchanged a glance, as I expected they would. ‘What is my business is why you’re interested, gentlemen, in his lordship’s activities.’

  Burrows raised a finger to stop Elias interrupting. ‘Can you tell me if his lordship drives a landau? Made by Elford and Sons, Shrewsbury?’

  What was going on? ‘He certainly drives a landau, and he certa
inly patronizes Elford. I have a lot of bills to prove it.’ I turned and patted a document box on the shelf beside me.

  ‘This was a very new vehicle,’ Burrows said. ‘The coach-maker’s name was still as clear as day. We have already asked the coach-maker who had bought it. He said that he was paid nearly two hundred pounds in cash by a young man who claimed to be his lordship.’

  Cash! That was surprising. Mrs Faulkner had observed tartly that she expected I’d get the bill very soon. ‘If the payment was in cash, I can’t say one way or another that it was his lordship who was Elford’s customer. I would have expected Elford himself to recognize a valued client, however. Now, before I answer any more questions, I’d like to know the reason for your interest in his lordship’s affairs.’

  ‘The vehicle in question was found smashed in pieces and mostly hidden deep in some woodland near Church Stretton.’

  ‘Mostly?’

  ‘It’d make good wood for someone’s fire, wouldn’t it, sir?’ Burrows said dryly. ‘As for what was left, it looked as if someone did not want it found. And there was no sign of a driver.’

  ‘There would have been two occupants,’ I said, my mouth suddenly dry. ‘His lordship and his valet.’

  ‘That’d be Luke Hargreaves,’ Elias put in.

  ‘Was there any sign of any violence?’

  ‘No sign. But more to the point, no sign, as I said, of any occupants. Not to mention the horses pulling it – four, I presume?’ Burrows asked sharply. ‘Seems an extravagant way for a young gentleman to travel. A gentleman and his servant,’ he said, sensing that Elias might be about to correct him.

  ‘I quite agree,’ I said truthfully. ‘I can quite see why you are asking about him. Even for a rich man a landau is not the sort of thing you’d leave lying about in pieces. What about their luggage? There would be various portmanteaux, and all his lordship’s cricketing gear.’

  Both men spread their hands. Nothing. ‘Has his lordship ever done anything like this before? Disappeared?’ Burrows asked bluntly.

  ‘I have been here only a few months, and during that time he has been occupied with developing the grounds here.’

  ‘I told you, sir – frittering away his inheritance,’ Elias said, to be swiftly hushed.

  I looked at the clock. At ten, it was far too early to ask for an audience with her ladyship. ‘Gentlemen, I think I have told you all I know. Her ladyship will know much more than I. Why do I not take you to the servants’ hall for some more refreshment, and I’ll ask someone to rouse her.’ Whom I knew not – presumably her ladyship and Mrs Faulkner had chosen an acting ladies’ maid.

  ‘Someone braver than I am,’ Elias muttered. He looked me straight in the eye. He did not need to say aloud that it needed someone braver than me, too.

  I flickered a smile at him. ‘But perhaps Mr Bowman might have all the information you need.’ I rang. Thatcher appeared as if he had been only a foot from the door. ‘Would you accompany these gentlemen to the servants’ hall? I’m sure they would appreciate some of Mrs Arden’s cooking. Thank you.’ I turned back. ‘This could be everything or nothing, couldn’t it? Maybe the young man has decided to kick over the traces—’

  Burrows added pointedly, ‘Or maybe someone has decided to kick him over them.’

  I took it on myself to check on Bowman, who was at least up, decked in a splendid dressing-gown almost certainly from his late master’s wardrobe. Despite the coffee, he looked very unwell, and had not yet attempted to shave.

  ‘Samuel, this is not like you,’ I said breezily. ‘Come on, my friend, spruce yourself up. Pah, your shaving water is nearly cold. I’ll get young Thatcher to bring some more and some more coffee. And you must eat, too. The police are here, with all sort of questions, and I rely on you to help me answer them. Do you understand?’

  The eyes he turned on me were bloodshot, and the bags under them deep, but he straightened perceptibly.

  ‘I really cannot manage without you,’ I added truthfully, as I left the room, closing the door firmly behind me. It was one thing for him to have been in his cups – I’m sure the entire household knew about his tippling – but another for him to be seen at his dishevelled worst.

  Mrs Arden and Mrs Faulkner were apparently preparing to go to church, a duty that had completely slipped my mind. But the former quickly slipped off her bonnet. ‘Silly old fool – been at the juice again, has he? I know just the thing.’ She reached for an apron.

  ‘Could you ask someone else to prepare it? Thatcher will take it to him. He seems a discreet enough young man. Meanwhile, we three need to talk in private. Mr Bowman too, when he is well enough. My office, I would suggest,’ I added, nodding in the direction of the two policemen, currently deep into plates of ham and eggs.

  As one, Harriet and I waited in silence while Mrs Arden gave her instructions. I am sure we both craved a few moments’ private conversation – even the time it would have taken to walk through the corridors would have been better than nothing – but we had agreed last night to preserve our usual working demeanour as long as we could. When the corridor became too narrow for three to walk abreast, especially when two were wearing crinolines, I fell behind.

  I was pleased – but not surprised – to see that the coffee things had been removed.

  ‘We don’t have much time. Those men won’t be content with eating for much longer.’

  Mrs Arden laughed. ‘They’ve got fresh rolls to tackle yet. And some of my best preserves – wasted on them, but not jam to hurry.’

  I smiled an acknowledgement, but pressed on nonetheless. ‘Firstly, who has taken on Hortense’s duties? Because the men won’t leave till they’ve spoken to her ladyship, and someone has to wake her up. She is unlikely to be pleased, as I know from experience.’

  The women exchanged a glance. Harriet said, ‘It’s not a job for young Florrie, is it? Though if she simply took up her ladyship’s chocolate and hot water as if she expected she would want to go to church …’

  ‘Then as soon as she is up and dressed, I will undertake to speak to her,’ I said, pausing as the door opened. ‘Unless – ah, good morning, Mr Bowman! We need your wisdom here.’ He bowed from the waist, his corset creaking audibly. He was scarcely recognisable as the wreck I had seen but a few minutes earlier. Whatever was in Mrs Arden’s recipe had done wonders for him, as had shaving. As he closed the door, I continued, ‘Mrs Faulkner, I will summon Thatcher and send a message for Florrie.’ I rang. Again the young man appeared with disconcerting speed, and went off on his errand. ‘I do hope he hasn’t taken to eavesdropping. Anyway the police can be told truthfully, if they ask, that her ladyship is getting dressed. Now, Mr Bowman, please tell us what you know about his lordship’s whereabouts. We know you are as discreet as the grave, and people will say things in front of you they wouldn’t tell to their parish priest.’

  He sat with something approaching his usual dignity. ‘This is in the nature of a rehearsal for what I shall have to tell the policemen?’

  ‘I think it probably is. If there is anything germane, they will need to know.’

  He took a deep breath. The effect was rather spoiled by a violent belch. ‘I beg your pardon. I fear I know very little of what has become his life. Certainly he has got in with a bad crowd. Young men who behave like schoolboys half their age. I have told you, Mr Rowsley, about the violence of their behaviour. Last weekend, I recall. We were smoking together outside.’

  I nodded. ‘We were indeed. You were too loyal to the family to go into much detail. You may have to be less … delicate … when the police speak to you.’ Even as I spoke, I remembered another moment, and clicked my fingers in irritation. It was easier to jot down a note to remind myself than explain. Button, it said. ‘Meanwhile, have any of us any idea why he should have paid for the landau in cash? Not to mention the horses to pull it, all of which are now missing, along with all the luggage.’

  ‘I think he may gamble heavily, out of fashion though such excess may be. I suspe
ct, Mr Rowsley, that your tight control over the estate funds irks him – though his mother insists it is necessary, as we all know it is. So he may have won a big sum. And to spend it all on one piece of wild extravagance is perhaps a rude gesture at all who counsel prudence.’

  ‘Do you suppose,’ Harriet began, ‘that whoever he won the money from sought revenge? And destroyed his trophy?’

  ‘If so,’ Mrs Arden continued seamlessly, ‘might they also have destroyed him, Luke and four good horses? And made off with a lot of luggage?’

  ‘Or perhaps his lordship had an accident en route to another venue and simply decided to abandon the vehicle, irresponsible though that might be. If only we knew his itinerary!’ Bowman concluded with a wail.

  ‘But her ladyship insisted it was his business and no one else’s,’ I said with an air of finality. ‘And that must be what we all tell the police. Now, Mrs Arden, you mentioned hearing horsemen the night before Hortense was injured. Have you heard any rumours about the identity of the visitors?’ I turned to the others. ‘Have either of you?’

  They looked at me blankly. ‘It’s the first I’ve heard of anything like that,’ Mr Bowman declared.

  I nodded as if they had both spoken. ‘Something Mr Bowman said has reminded me of something I found the evening in question. A button. It may signify something or nothing. It’s safe in my house. But I would like to show it to you before I hand it over to the policemen.’ I picked up my hat. ‘Shall we meet again in the Room in fifteen minutes?’

  XVI

  They talk over my head. Through a strange fog I can still hear what they are saying, although I do not understand their words.

  ‘What if he’s got the poor mite in the family way?’

  ‘They say you can’t if it’s your first time. And she’s just a child.’