Page 30 of Linenfold (The Alice Chronicles #4)

Undismissed, or simply unnoticed, Alice remains at Philip’s side as they watch the six gentlemen-at-arms carry box upon box into the hall, open each and go meticulously through the contents.

The sheriff’s men are smilingly urged by the equerry back into the screens passage, the door closed on them.

He oversees the operation and occasionally one or other will call him over, query an item, ask Philip.

There are garments, hats, shoes, cloaks, some personal jewellery, rings, pins, which they inspect and return.

Two large tapestries carefully rolled in linen take Philip’s attention, and he directs the men how to unfold and refold them so as to avoid damage for they are very old.

Alice watches the opening up of more boxes with feather mattresses, bedlinen, bolsters, coverlets, cushions, mugs, tankards, glassware, trivets, fire dogs, a host of cookware, tableware, travelling cutlery in leather cases, the gleam of gold, the glint of silver, the haze of pewter and smooth shine of wood.

The variety of goods goes on, all the paraphernalia of house furnishings.

The large furniture, Philip explains, was hired and remained in the Paris house.

Twice His Grace emerges from the winter parlour to see progress and question both Philip and the men, but all in vain.

Two hours later they have emptied the last box and examined its contents, and there seems to have been nothing at all of any interest. Now once again in the hall, the duke addresses Philip, ‘Hardcastle, is there anything missing from these boxes that you are aware of?’

‘Not from the boxes I saw packed, My Lord.’

‘And this is all the luggage His Lordship brought?’

‘It is,’ Philip answers. ‘The only other items were those taken to each chamber for overnight use.’

‘Vernon,’ the duke says to the waiting equerry, ‘send one of the men with Hardcastle to search the chambers – how many?’

‘Three, sir.’ Philip turns to the man indicated by the equerry. ‘If you will follow me?’

‘Your secretary, Hardcastle, is he here?’

‘He is upstairs in his chamber. He is elderly and has been somewhat overwhelmed by events.’

‘Naturally. Vernon, do you fetch him. I would have a few moments of his time.’ He retreats into the winter parlour.

Within a few minutes the equerry returns with Secretary Cranley, who glances hither and thither with anxious eyes as he trails across the hall and through the door beyond.

By the time Philip and the duke’s man are back downstairs with nothing to show for the search, the coroner has arrived in the hall.

Ignoring Alice, he has installed himself once again in the chair at the table end, engaging in talk with the gentlemen-at-arms. They stand at a little distance regarding Sir Malcolm, politely attending his conversational endeavours.

They have not long to wait before the duke emerges from the winter parlour, solicitously ushering a still nervous-looking secretary.

‘Vernon, you will escort Master Cranley back upstairs.’

Sir Malcolm scrambles to his feet with a scraping of wood on stone.

His hoarse, ‘Sir Malcolm Wipley, coroner, Your Grace,’ accompanies the expansive doffing of his hat.

Unfortunately, as he sweeps his arm across his body the brim catches the table edge and flies from his fingers to skim across the floor.

With ponderous ceremony one of the gentlemen moves to retrieve it, takes it up and steps towards the coroner, proffering the many-feathered creation between the fingertips of both hands.

‘When you’re ready, Sir Malcolm,’ the duke says and turns back to the parlour. At the door, he turns. ‘Hardcastle, Mistress Jerrard, I thank you for your attendance and you may go about your devoirs.’

In the kitchen, Philip makes a glum face at Alice. ‘We are dismissed like naughty children.’

‘While our seniors arrange matters between them.’

‘He was very interested in the linenfold box.’

‘I assume he didn’t find anything.’

‘His disappointment was palpable at finding nothing more than a few minor letters and some blank sheets. I wonder what he wanted Cranley for. I must ask him.’

She would like to discuss this further, but Maureen by the hearth is standing too motionless by far.

It is not long before a stir in the screens passage heralds the departure of the duke and his party.

Alice sends Mollie to bid the boys fetch out the horses and attend the riders to their mounts.

She and Philip, with Rose holding cloaks, repair to the front door.

The six gentlemen-at-arms stride out to the clearing where the coach awaits.

Joe and Allan appear round the side of the house leading their horses, and behind them Angus with Vernon’s and the coroner’s mounts.

The equerry accepts his cloak from Rose’s hand, swinging it over his shoulders, takes the duke’s cloak and steps round to stand in front of the coroner.

A few moments later His Grace emerges, Vernon unwraps the thick fur-lined cloak and throws it over his master’s shoulders.

Angus frowns as he looks at the scene before him.

He makes a slight jerk of the head to Alice.

She steps out as though to test the air for rain and moves to his side.

In a low voice, ‘Yes, Angus, what is it?’

‘It be very odd, mistress,’ Angus says in his slow way. ‘But I thought Sir Wipley knew the fine gentleman. And yet they do neither look nor speak to each other.’

‘The duke?’

‘No, mistress, that other one, his fine manservant.’

‘The equerry? Why would they know each other?’

‘Thick as thieves they were when I saw them on the road from Poyle.’

The duke’s cloak strings are now tied, and he exchanges a few last words with the coroner, while the equerry accepts his reins from Angus and mounts up. ‘All right, Angus,’ she murmurs. ‘Keep this to yourself for now.’ She rejoins Philip at the door.

‘Excellent, Sir Malcolm, I bid you good day,’ His Grace says and turns to Philip.

‘Hardcastle, I’m sure we shall meet again.

God willing, under happier circumstances.

’ To Alice in her low curtsey. ‘I thank you for your hospitality, Mistress Jerrard, and bid you farewell.’ His Grace climbs into the coach, the footman folds up the step and the assemblage moves off.

And despite my misgivings, I liked him, thought him pleasant, uncomplicated. At first.

Sir Malcolm is wreathed in smiles, waving at the retinue crossing the clearing as though to dear friends.

No one turns to look back. Over his shoulder, he addresses Philip and Alice.

‘There will be no further action regarding His Lordship’s unfortunate demise, and I am withdrawing the sheriff’s men. This matter is ended. Good day to you.’

‘Wait—’ Philip protests.

‘Death by misadventure,’ he continues. ‘His Grace concurs with my view. Take your relation and bury him.’

‘Have you even looked at the evidence?’

‘You are dismayed, My Lord. I forgive your outburst on that head.’ Sir Malcolm is all magnanimity as he takes the reins from Angus.

‘Know this, Wipley, the matter does not end here!’ Philip roars.

Sir Malcolm turns to face him. ‘If His Grace declares it ends, it ends! Or do you wish to cool your heels in gaol?’

In the dimness of the screens passage Alice kicks Philip’s foot. ‘Let it pass,’ she mutters. Then aloud. ‘Then we accept His Grace’s conclusion, Sir Malcolm, as we must.’

The coroner looks askance at her, seeking irony. ‘See that you do.’ He clambers into the saddle and gives a sharp whip-cut across the flank to urge his horse forward.

‘What are you up to?’ Philip mutters through gritted teeth. ‘He’s letting them get away with murder! He’s convinced the duke there is no case to investigate.’

Alice closes the front door. ‘Let us go into the winter parlour, Master Sewell.’

Tight-lipped, he strides ahead of her through the hall, pulls her into the winter parlour and shuts the door with a snap, glaring at her. ‘What’s your game, Alice?’

‘Don’t you find it strange that the duke is only too ready to take the same view as the coroner?’

‘I find it stranger that you’re taking their side!’

‘Think, Philip! Why would His Grace do that?’

‘You’re not pretending the coroner’s holding a threat over him?’

‘An obscure country coroner? Do you take me for a fool?’

Philip frowns. ‘What are you saying, then?’

‘Why did His Grace come all that way and never even ask how your uncle died? We’re all here, it would be normal to question anyone who might have witness to offer. So why didn’t he do that?’

His anger has faded as he starts to think. ‘Well, why?’

‘His Grace wants the death of your uncle to pass as quietly as possible. No hue and cry. No investigation. That way, he can follow his own line unconstrained.’

‘Which is?’

‘He knows there is something worth the finding but it’s not in the boxes.

You said to me your uncle was convinced you were being followed.

What if that pursuit was by His Grace’s agents?

What if His Grace’s agents were responsible for your uncle’s death?

Clearly they alerted him that they had not found what they sought.

If they had, His Grace need not have come here. ’

‘He didn’t find anything, so therefore he’s guilty? That, Alice, is horse-shit!’

‘If your uncle surprised the agents searching your boxes, they might well have panicked and resorted to violence to prevent him crying havoc. Once they had hit him, they might feel their only solution was to kill him.’

‘Oh, that makes it all right, then!’

‘Please, Philip! I’m not condoning it, I’m trying to understand what they would do in the circumstances. I think they would try to cover it up by making it look as if he wandered out and collapsed. As they made the coach in the ditch appear an accident.’

He stares wordless at her.

‘Come with me,’ she says.

In the woodshed, Alice goes to a shelf at the back and sorts through splintered and broken shafts of wood.

She picks up a few and holds one out to Philip.

‘This is a spoke from your coach. See where it was sawn nearly through next to the felloe? And this one the same. Ditch or no ditch, that wheel was going to fail before long.’

He takes one in his hand as though it might not be real. ‘Our coach was sabotaged?’

‘Allan tells me once one or two spokes failed, the rest could not have held the wheel, and it collapsed.’

Philip whistles in dawning realisation. ‘Jackson said he felt a jolt before we tipped over. We didn’t believe him but that was the wheel breaking.’

‘Without a close inspection, Jackson and Pearce wouldn’t have noticed the wheel had been weakened, but it was only a matter of time.’

He holds up the broken spoke. ‘Someone was slowing us down so they could resume their search, that’s what we’re saying. But how does the duke come into it?’

Alice returns the spokes to the shelf. ‘Let’s discuss this indoors.’

‘Your Allan, is he—?’

‘Allan won’t talk.’

Back in the winter parlour, Alice tells Philip, ‘The agents couldn’t have found what they sought or they wouldn’t have had to send word that things went awry and they killed your uncle.

His Grace is left to resolve the mess his people have made of this business.

Despite all that courtesy, I’ll wager he’s seething inside.

The first thing he does is to take control by sending for the coroner and ensuring he will announce a verdict of tragic accident.

No outcry, no investigation. Then His Grace orders a full search of your uncle’s baggage and the chambers.

But he didn’t find anything either, not even in your linenfold box, which says to me he seeks something small that would fit in that box.

My guess is that your two parts of the riddle are what he wanted, to lead him to what he actually seeks. ’

‘He doesn’t even know the riddle exists.’

‘He does if he has seen the third part.’

Philip looks disbelieving.

‘Who’s got it, then?’ she asks. ‘Why did your uncle give you a second piece of it? He knew someone was after it.’

‘You’re building fancy on whim, Alice!’

‘Do you have a better explanation as to why a duke would come hotfoot to a minor gentleman’s house twenty miles from London and settle for a country coroner’s dubious verdict of misadventure?

If he really revered your uncle, he would be breathing fire to find the guilty party.

The coroner is not leading this. He just thinks he is.

His Grace is the one dictating the cause of death. ’

‘You told me the coroner was already favouring misadventure.’

‘Because he was instructed to, and it fitted exactly his initial hesitation. When the message reached the duke, he sent Vernon the equerry to call on Sir Malcolm. Angus saw them together early yesterday before Sir Malcolm came for the second hearing and started making noises about misadventure. I’d stake my life the equerry was ordering Sir Malcolm to back away from any idea of murder and to station men in this house to guard your boxes.

Until the duke came. Only someone with the duke’s unquestioned power could order a search of the boxes. ’

Philip gazes out of the window, deep in thought. ‘His killers. You said they . More than one.’

‘You said your uncle spoke of they and I think he was right. He could have been murdered by just one person, but it would take more than one to search your boxes.’

‘I suppose he awoke hearing a noise and went to investigate.’ Philip’s face is troubled as he looks at her. ‘Just think, he probably came to my door and couldn’t rouse me because I wasn’t there. So he went down on his own.’

‘As to that, I think you were back in your chamber. You said you left the house after bidding your uncle good night, and were out for about an hour. They would have waited at least that long for the house to settle into sleep. Remember you said the rain stopped just as you got back? Your uncle did not lie out in the rain, the back of his long-gown was not wet when we found him, nor his hair. He came downstairs after you got back. I doubt he went to your door. You could not have failed to wake if he had.’

She watches him as he stands in thought, imagines him wondering if it is the truth or merely a soothing answer. There is no other comfort she can offer. He feels blameworthy for leaving the door unbarred. Time only will bring acceptance and, hopefully, ease.