Page 21 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

K ent lost no time in showing the visitors into the tower’s cellars, where they walked all around, ostentatiously looking behind the two empty wine racks, tapping the walls and scuffing the floor for signs of a trapdoor. Kent had to admire the convincing way they set about their work, even though it was obvious nothing could possibly be concealed in so empty a place.

Captain Edgerton ambled about behind the others, looking very much amused, as if he saw through the pretence. Would he comment on the noticeable smell of brandy pervading the air? He would not. He said not a word, merely nodding when Sir Hubert asked if he were satisfied, and then brought up the rear as everyone trooped back up the stairs.

Tankards of beer were passed round to the men, who stuffed their pockets with pastries and wandered outside. Sir Hubert Strong and Captain Edgerton sat down and sipped wine, chatting about nothing in particular, as if this were merely an ordinary morning call.

Eventually, Sir Hubert rose. “Well, I shall write up my report, Atherton, but unless the captain has any concerns, I think we may safely say this matter is now closed.”

“I have no concerns,” Edgerton said. “If Mr Atherton will indulge me, however, I should very much like to see the view from the top of the tower. I have passed this place so many times yet never before had an opportunity to look inside.”

“With pleasure,” Kent said through gritted teeth. Edgerton was far too observant a man for comfort, and there was still the possibility that he would detect some trace of the smuggling operation, and put everyone in grave danger.

Strong left thereafter, but Edgerton, with his customary wolfish smile, picked up his glass and the wine bottle. “Lead on, sir.”

Carrying his own glass, for he had a suspicion he was going to need something more to fortify him than the half a glass he had already consumed, Kent led the way up the stairs. Edgerton peered interestedly into every room they passed, but since they were all empty, Kent was untroubled by it. In the top room, he saw at once that the telescope had been moved again, and was pointing towards Welwood once more. He said nothing, however, for he had no wish to draw Edgerton’s attention to it, instead beginning a recital of the history of the tower.

Edgerton listened gravely, while walking slowly round the room, gazing intently through every window, as if memorising the view. Even when Kent’s tale wound to its conclusion and he fell silent, Edgerton continued to prowl. Eventually, he stopped, refilled his glass and looked at Kent thoughtfully.

“Your brother inherited the house and tower, I understand. The bookbinder who owned the estate died some three years ago, and left it to Mr Eustace Atherton.”

“Mr Sinclair had no children of his own, never married, in fact, his only sister had died and he was fond of Eustace, so he left him everything in his will. The estate of Welwood-on-the-Hill and an income of fourteen hundred pounds a year.”

“And whatever he can make from… other interests,” Edgerton said blandly.

Kent’s glass was halfway to his lips, but he lowered it, feeling panic rising in his breast. He knew! Edgerton knew about the smuggling!

Edgerton chuckled. “No need to look so stricken, Mr Atherton. Even had Sir Hubert not told me all about it, I would have guessed that something of the sort was going on here. An isolated tower, well away from most habitations, yet easy to reach over the moors by pack pony — I would have been astonished if it were not being used as a base for smuggling, and naturally your brother is aware of it, and turns a blind eye. Perhaps he himself suggested the idea.”

He did not know, then, that Eustace was the leader of the scheme. Well, he would not find it out from Kent.

“So… what are you going to do?”

“About the smuggling? Absolutely nothing. I have dined at all the respectable houses of the neighbourhood, and a few of the inns, too, and drunk excellent wine and brandy at all of them. I have no quarrel with such supplies, however they might be obtained. Besides, I am engaged by Lord Rennington to investigate the murder of Mr Nicholson, and I have seen nothing so far that would connect him to smuggling. He has businesses in Pickering, both legal and less so, but he does not strike me as a man who would involve himself in anything as risky as smuggling. He must have known of it, for he was a great brandy drinker himself, but did he ever interest himself in where it came from?”

“Never, that I heard,” Kent said.

“He was not, for instance, threatening to betray the scheme to the Revenue men?”

“No!” Kent cried, shocked. “Heavens, no! Why, do you think one of us murdered him to stop him exposing us? There is only one person I have ever come across who disapproved of the arrangement so strongly as to try to do something about it, and that was far short of murder.”

The pain as he spoke the words coursed through him just as powerfully now as when he had first heard of Katherine’s betrayal.

Edgerton must have seen his grief, for he said gently, “I beg your pardon, Atherton. It was not my intention to reopen that wound. Sir Hubert told me something of the matter, so let us speak no more of it. Tell me, if you will, how the smuggling came about. Your brother must have seen the possibility when he moved into Welwood.”

Kent took a deep breath. He must put all thought of Katherine out of his mind, at least while Edgerton was here. He might seem sympathetic, but there was no knowing what he might see or do, and he must keep Eustace out of it if he could.

“It was some years before that. Let me see… perhaps thirteen or fourteen years ago at least that Eustace became friendly with the Sinclairs at Welwood. At first, it was just a casual friendship, but when Miss Sinclair died, he took to spending more time with Sinclair — staying for several days at a time. The old man was lonely, I think, and enjoyed Eustace’s company. Eustace persuaded him to allow the tower to be used as a transition point for the barrels of brandy and wine. Sinclair was a grateful recipient himself, so he made no objection.”

“And then he died and left everything to Mr Eustace. What a fortunate young man!” He began to prowl again, stopping beside the telescope and putting his eye to it. “This is the telescope that Mr Sinclair installed for his star observations, I presume. And now it has a fine view of Welwood. To spy on your brother?”

“No! That would be dull work indeed, for he is hardly ever at home. Usually the telescope faces east, to watch for the train of goods arriving from the coast. I have no idea why it has been moved.”

“Who has access to the tower?”

“Anyone! The key is left under a stone outside the front door, and all the locals know that. There is a usable bed over there, and usually food and drink left downstairs, so a man may well bring a companion here for an evening.”

Edgerton nodded. “A groom from Welwood, for instance, might bring a housemaid here for a private assignation, and they might well turn the telescope round to spy on their employer.”

Kent said nothing, but although Edgerton nodded as if satisfied and began prowling again, he had a sinking feeling that the captain saw more than he acknowledged. Kent could not help remembering his visit with Katherine, and the signs that someone had been living at the tower. The disordered bed, the remains of a meal — that could have been a groom and housemaid, or perhaps someone from Welwood village, no more than half a mile further down the road. But the green leather bag? That was not a local loitering for a few hours. Yet it had nothing to do with Nicholson’s murder, and Eustace had charged him with keeping Edgerton away from the tower if possible, so he determined he would not mention that.

“Is the roof accessible?” Edgerton said.

“It should be,” Kent said, but when he tried the door to the balcony, it was locked. “Well, that is annoying. Someone has locked the door and taken away the key.”

And if it had been the man with the green leather bag, there would be no possibility of getting it back.

“No matter,” Edgerton said easily. “I have already detained you for too long. I should get back to Pickering, now that I have a second murder to deal with.”

In all his own troubles, Kent had forgotten that. “Eustace told me that your friend Miss Peach came to a sad end. I am very sorry. Pray convey my condolences to Mrs Edgerton and all your colleagues. I do not remember her well, for she was a very self-effacing lady, as I recall, but she seemed an inoffensive person.”

“She was. Thank you for your condolences, sir. My wife is very upset. Miss Peach was her governess for a number of years and they have remained close.”

“It is hard to imagine why anyone thought to kill such a meek old lady,” Kent said. “At Tonkins Farm, too, which is hardly a place where ruffians congregate. What was she doing there?”

“I have no idea,” Edgerton said sombrely. “She believed she was investigating Nicholson’s murder, and was so secretive about the business that she told no one what she was up to or where she was.”

“Did Tonkins or his family know why she was there?”

“They never saw her.”

“But if she was living in their hay barn…” Kent stopped, perplexed. “How is that possible?”

“It is not, of course,” Edgerton said tersely. “Have you ever slept in hay, Mr Atherton? Or played about in it, as a boy, perhaps? How much hay did you acquire when you did so?”

Kent laughed. “A great deal!”

“Exactly! Bits of hay and straw work themselves into every nook and cranny. The Tonkins’ hay barn had blankets arranged as a bed, and Miss Peach’s bag was there, and bags of food, but on her body was not a single speck of straw. I asked the physician who examined the body yesterday to look for that in particular, and he found no trace. Nothing lodged in her hair or in her clothes.”

“So… are you saying that she was never in the barn?” Kent said. “Then… someone put the blankets there.”

“Exactly. The scene was staged, just like a play, to make us believe that she had been living there, but in fact, she could have been anywhere, anywhere at all. But unless we know where she truly was, there is no possibility of finding her killer.”

Kent was very struck by this revelation. Was it possible that the mysterious visitor with the green leather bag was Miss Peach? Surely not! There was nothing about the tower connected to the murder of Nicholson, which was her principal focus.

“Surely she could not have been anywhere ,” Kent said cautiously. Edgerton looked at him enquiringly. “What I mean to say is that she must have been somewhere associated with Nicholson, surely?”

“That is logical, yes. Unfortunately, there is no certainty that Miss Peach’s mind was… entirely rational, shall we say. Unless I can find some clue to her train of thought — a notebook, say — I cannot be certain that she had not veered onto some other trail altogether. But I must get back to Pickering. Thank you for showing me the tower, sir. I am very glad to have seen inside it at last, and you may be sure that whatever goes on here is of no interest to me.”

They made their way downstairs again, where Edgerton efficiently pumped water to clean the used tankards and glasses, while Kent tidied away the remains of the food and wine.

“Little wonder that you get the occasional unauthorised visitor when the place is so well supplied,” Edgerton said, grinning. “A fine starry night, with a bottle of decent wine and something for a light supper — an appealing prospect, is it not?”

Kent laughed. “I suspect all this will have disappeared in a day or two.”

Outside, he locked the door and placed the key under its stone again. “I know, I know,” he said, in answer to Edgerton’s quizzical glance. “We should find a more secure arrangement.”

Edgerton only laughed, and began strapping his sword onto his horse. “Where is your mount, Atherton? Do you have a better place to keep him than right outside the door, with the reins draped over a bush like this?”

“I have turned him into the field. It minimises the amount of droppings to be cleaned up here.”

“Droppings,” Edgerton murmured. “I wonder…”

Kent retrieved Stupendous from the field, to find Edgerton leaning on the gate with a frown on his face, gazing out at the animals pastured there.

“Whose are these beasts?”

“I suppose Eustace owns them. They are retired mounts, too old for riding, seeing out their final days at leisure.”

“Most of them are not riding horses, though,” Edgerton said. “Ponies, mostly, and a few donkeys. Or are they mules?”

“There might be mules amongst them. I cannot say I have ever looked at them closely enough to be sure.”

“Hmm. It is possible. It is just possible, and no hay, a comfortable bed and fresh water supplied. Even food, perhaps.”

Kent said nothing, not fully understanding the interest in mules.

“I beg your pardon,” Edgerton said, opening the gate for Kent to lead his horse out. “You must think me insane, I suppose, but I have recently discovered that Miss Peach had a mule to ride, so she could have ventured a great deal further than we originally supposed. Even here, perhaps.”

“Why would she come here?” Kent said uneasily.

“No reason in the world, that I can see,” Edgerton said easily. “It was just the mention of droppings that set a hare running in my mind. Miss Peach had talked about mule droppings — it was a problem, but she had solved it, somehow. It occurred to me that droppings would betray that she and her mule had been at a certain place, but if she could put the animal into a field like this one, neither the mule nor the droppings would be noticed, and the tower would supply her with a safe hiding place. But there can be no reason why she would be here, so put it out of your mind. Shall we ride down to the road together or are you going over the moors?”

For the first mile or so, they were heading in the same direction. Edgerton was humming, a low, melodious tune, clearly satisfied with his morning. Kent was less satisfied. In one sense, it had been a successful meeting, for Strong had seen nothing untoward, and Edgerton had professed himself uninterested in the smuggling operation. Kent had not managed to keep the captain away from the tower, as Eustace had wanted, but no damage had been done.

Yet the question of Miss Peach occupied his mind. Was it possible she had reached the tower on her mule? She could have left the mule in the field, and stayed inside the tower, and no one any the wiser… unless someone arrived unexpectedly and saw her bag there. But it was so unlikely! There was no need to tell Edgerton, surely? If he knew of it, he would be crawling all over the tower looking for clues, and any hope of reviving the smuggling would be gone for weeks, perhaps, and Eustace would be furious.

But Miss Peach had been murdered, and Kent knew beyond all doubt that he ought to tell Edgerton that she might have been at the tower. It was the right thing to do. He understood suddenly just why Katherine had felt obliged to report him to the magistrate — that, too, was the right thing to do.

By the time they came to the point of separation, when Edgerton was to head east to Pickering, Kent had made his decision.

“Edgerton, it is just possible that your Miss Peach was at the tower two weeks ago.”

The captain’s eyes lit up. “Tell me more.”

“I was out riding with… with Miss Parish and my cousins Lucas and Emily, and I brought Miss Parish into the tower to show her the view. In the room at the top of the tower, we saw that the bed had been used, and there were signs of a meal being taken, and a candlestick. And a bag, a green leather bag, hidden behind the sofa. The telescope had been moved round to face Welwood, just as it is today. I moved it back, yet someone has moved it again. And… if she rode a mule, it could have been put in the field to graze. I thought you ought to know.”

“Thank you, Mr Atherton. That is most interesting,” Edgerton said. “So you did not see Miss Peach yourself?”

“No. There was no one there, just the bag and things to show someone had been there.”

“What was in the bag?”

“It was locked, so I cannot tell you.”

“And what did you do about it?”

“Nothing myself. The tower is Eustace’s responsibility, so I left a note at Welwood to let him know about the intruder. He was away at the time, and by the time he checked, there was no sign of anyone. The bag had gone and the place was tidy. You may ask Miss Parish if you wish to verify all this.”

Edgerton smiled, showing his teeth. “Oh, I have no doubt that she will corroborate everything you have told me. But I wonder, Mr Atherton… I very much wonder whether you did, in fact, return to the tower and find Miss Peach there. I wonder whether she told you unpalatable facts that she had discovered, and whether you then strangled her in a fit of rage. Then, no doubt, you conveyed her body to Tonkins Farm to throw us completely off the scent, and arranged the hay barn in a way that was almost convincing. Did you, Mr Atherton?”

It was said so calmly, so conversationally that Kent was almost too taken aback to speak. It was so preposterous he actually laughed. “No! You are insane if you think any such thing, Captain. Why on earth would I murder Miss Peach?”

“Because she had discovered that you murdered Mr Nicholson.”

Kent laughed again, shaking his head. “You forget that I saw the murderer descending the main stairs as I raced towards Aunt Alice.”

“Perhaps you lied.”

“And again I ask — what reason could I possibly have for murdering Nicholson?”

Edgerton heaved a sigh. “Yes, that is where all my clever explanations founder. What reason indeed? I can make a case for anyone murdering Nicholson — you, your brother Walter, your father, Tess Nicholson, the Lady Alice, the butler. All of you were in the castle that night. I can even see the parson doing it — Mr Dewar is not a young man, but he is spry enough. I see him striding about the village, full of energy. I can even explain how your brother Eustace might have done it.”

“He was at home at Welwood.”

“So he was, with an entire houseful of servants to swear that he was tucked up in bed with Daisy Marler at the time. But perhaps he waited until she was fast asleep, crept out of bed, dressed, saddled a horse, rode across the moors at night, broke into the house, picked up the axe that he himself had brought there, and slaughtered the chaplain as he slept. He then slipped away, rode home, and got back into bed beside the sleeping Daisy with no one any the wiser.”

“That is preposterous!”

“No, no. I can call upon an excellent barrister who will make a very credible tale out of it. Credible enough to convince a jury, in any event. And do you know what stops me from doing any of this? I cannot find a single reason why anyone would have wanted Nicholson dead. No one bore a grudge, no one resented him enough to risk the hangman’s noose, no one was desperate enough to kill him. And until I can find the reason for it, I cannot know who it was who killed him. For myself, I think the answer lies at Pickering, so that is where I focus my efforts now.”

“Well, I am glad you are not seriously accusing me,” Kent said. “I should have regretted telling you about the visitor at the tower, if I had thought that would be the consequence.”

“I do not seriously accuse Mr Eustace, either. His grooms swear no horse left the stable that night, nor was any saddle taken, and Daisy Marler swears he was in bed all night.”

“Daisy Marler?” Kent frowned. “Do you know she is now acting as lady’s maid to Miss Parish?”

“Is she? I cannot imagine where Miss Parish might have met a girl like that.”

“In church!” Kent said, laughing. “Miss Parish is always in church. Oh! But I have remembered how it came about. Daisy was weeping and praying because she had done something wrong.”

“Indeed she has, and it is time she repented of hopping into bed with everyone who offers her money,” Edgerton said. “This is all very interesting, and I thank you for telling me, but I cannot think that Daisy Marler’s conscience bears on my present concerns. In return, I shall tell you something about your intruder at the tower. It was not Miss Peach. Her bag was made of stiffened cloth, a very shabby affair, not green leather, and it had no lock.”

“Then Eustace was right, it was just a casual wanderer.”

“So it would appear. What an interesting conversation this has been.”