Page 24

There is a snap of twig. Over his shoulder a movement catches her eye. Seeing the direction of her gaze Dr Talbot twists in his saddle, dark eyes scanning the trees.

‘Hello?’ he calls.

There is no answer.

‘Perhaps,’ Linette ventures, ‘it was one of the farmhands. Pheasants are plentiful in these woods. My tenants have free rein to hunt wherever they please.’

‘Then why did they not call out?’

‘Mayhap they did not realise.’

It sounds feeble, even to her lips. He called into the woods, loud enough that whoever it was should hear him. They should have heard the horses scream, at least. Why, then, would they not come forward and apologise?

Linette squints into the dense woodland, tries to make out whatever it was she saw a moment before, but there is nothing. Nothing but the natural sounds of the forest, its creaking branches, its rustle of leaves.

Henry Talbot is looking now in the direction of where the bullet landed. The trunk of a sycamore possesses an ugly splintered wound, and seeing it Linette feels her blood run cold. It is exactly at eye level. This was the tree she had passed a moment before, her companion following close behind …

Furtively Henry dismounts. Handing Gwydion’s reins to Linette, he approaches it.

He stares at the tree for a long moment before looking about him on the forest floor where – Linette sees now – his medical bag has fallen amongst the feathered fronds of a fern. He opens the bag, sifts through it, takes out the small knife he proposed to use on Tomas Morgan.

Linette watches, fascinated, as he angles the blade into the trunk, plucks something from it, places it in his palm. He prods at it with the tip of the knife, his lips a grim line.

‘What is it?’

A bullet, of course, but that is not what Linette means. The doctor seems to recognise this, however, for he raises his gaze to meet hers, hard as stones.

‘Someone just took a shot at me.’

Linette blinks. ‘I beg your pardon?’

She realises he is breathing deeply, is striving for a calm he clearly does not feel.

‘From the behaviour of the villagers just now it’s abundantly clear I’m not wanted here.’ A hint of bitterness. ‘And when we were speaking of Dr Evans earlier you said he would not be easily replaced, especially by an Englishman. What did you mean by that?’

‘I …’

He levels her with a stern look.

Linette sighs. ‘’Tis difficult to explain …’

‘I’m listening.’

She does not respond, for how can she possibly make him understand? But her silence only seems to provoke him.

‘Someone shot at me!’ he cries, and Linette sighs again in answer.

‘I’m sorry, but I simply can’t believe it was deliberate. A stray bullet, a bad aim, that is all.’

The young doctor’s face is flushed with emotion.

‘First the gatehouse,’ he says, ‘now this. I’ve not been in Penhelyg even a day, yet it seems your tenants are determined to be rid of me.’

Linette stares. A sliver of cold runs down her back, making her flinch.

‘Are you suggesting someone tried to kill you?’

He slips the bullet into his pocket. ‘Or warn me off.’