Page 24 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #3)

Sergeant Mayhew did not set much store by Mrs Porrit’s evidence, or indeed by that of Tabby Mattock, who, he opined, was a baggage who would say anything.

In fact, he regarded women in general as unreliable and most of them inveterate liars.

But he was inclined to believe William’s account, now he was willing to give one, because he did not think a man would admit to something as embarrassing as being beaten up by a woman unless it was true.

So the charge against William was dropped, and word sent to the Castle.

Richard came himself and collected the footman, so that he could be sure Tabby had kept her end of the bargain before he paid her the second instalment.

‘So William is definitely in the clear?’ he asked the sergeant.

‘Free to go, sir,’ said Mayhew.

‘Without a stain on his character?’

Mayhew writhed a little at that. ‘You might tell him to steer clear of females like that Mattock piece,’ he said uncharitably. ‘Consorting with them won’t do his character no good.’

‘Consorting,’ Richard said, savouring the word. ‘No, I dare say “consorting” is never a good idea. I shall have the butler give him a good, fatherly talking-to.’

‘A proper thrashing is what I’da got from my old man,’ Mayhew said sternly, ‘and the better for it. Course, he’s got no father, and Mrs Sweeting may be a God-fearing woman and a church-goer, but she’s a quarter that William’s size and couldn’t raise a welt on him if she stood on a chair.

Spare the rod, Mr Tallant, and spoil the child. That’s what I always say.’

‘I’ll try to see William is put on the right track,’ Richard promised him. ‘And what will happen now to the, er, case – is that the word? – of Edgar Speen?’

‘Put aside, Mr Tallant,’ Holyoak said, ‘pending further information.’ Mayhew only sniffed disapprovingly, so he continued, ‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever know who killed him.

My betting is it was a tramping man, passing through, and long gone now.

We do get ’em, making their way to London – out-of-work labourers, or ruined men, hoping to make a new start in the capital.

It’s a main route, along the valley, from a number of places. ’

‘What happens to the body, by the way?’ Richard asked.

‘Buried on the parish,’ Mayhew said. ‘Deceased had no family that we could discover.’

‘My family will make a donation, seeing he was in our employ,’ Richard said. ‘And a simple headstone, perhaps.’ He felt bad about Speen, who had been his valet, and would never have come to Ashmore to get himself killed if he hadn’t engaged him.

‘That’s as you please, Mr Tallant,’ said Mayhew. ‘You’d better talk to Rector.’

‘I think my brother would expect it done,’ Richard said.

Richard chose a quiet moment to walk down to Warner’s Rents.

It was a fine breezy day after several showery ones.

All the way down the hill he was passing washing laid out on hedges to dry, and at the rents themselves many had washing pegged out in the long front gardens.

No washing blew at the Mattock house. He saw the door was open, which again was a common thing – all these cottages were desperately damp, and on a day like this the door would often be left open so that the breeze could dry the floor and walls inside.

He walked down the path, paused politely at the door and rapped on the frame, calling ‘Hulloo, the house! Anybody home?’ but it was all quiet within.

Then he noticed that there were no napkins or baby clothes drying in front of the fire.

He took a step inside and looked round. The cottage consisted of one room, with a lean-to scullery behind, so he could see the whole thing from the door.

A bed in one corner where presumably Tabby, her mother and the baby all slept, a wooden table, two wooden chairs and an open-fronted cupboard in which a few items of crockery and the heel-end of a loaf of bread were all that could be seen on the shelves. No human being of any size.

Suspicion slipped into his mind. He stepped back out, thought a moment, and walked away to where a chestnut tree gave him a large trunk to stand behind while he watched the house.

After a few minutes, Mrs Mattock came along, bent sideways under the weight of a bucket: the cottages shared a privy and a water pump at the end of the row.

She went into the cottage with it. He waited.

It was ten or fifteen minutes later that he saw Tabby approaching, with a covered basket on her arm.

He waited until she turned down her own path before he came out, swiftly covered the ground between them, and caught her arm.

It was almost the undoing of him. She whipped round at amazing speed and flung a fist at him. Only his own quick reaction saved his face. It grazed his ear in passing as he jumped back and cried, ‘Steady! It’s only me!’

Her face shut down into a secretive blankness, enigmatic as a cat. ‘You frit me! Creeping up on a person like that,’ she complained. ‘What’s the idea?’

‘I thought you’d be expecting me,’ he said. ‘William’s been released. He’s back at the Castle. There’s no charge against him.’

‘Oh,’ she said, surveying his face carefully. ‘Well, good. So you know I told the pleece the story, like I promised.’

‘Yes, they told me all about it,’ Richard said. ‘Where’s the baby?’

‘Beg pardon?’ It was a strategic deafness, he saw, to give her time to think.

‘The baby. The one I’m going to help support.’ He gestured to the basket on her arm. ‘You’re not carrying it about in there, are you?’

‘Don’t be daft,’ she said shortly. The basket was nowhere near big enough to hold a baby. ‘It’s just a bit of stuff for our supper.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘So where’s my three pound? Hand it over.’

‘Where’s the baby, Miss Tabby?’

‘In the house,’ she said, not meeting his eye. ‘Ma’s minding it.’

He shook his head. ‘I’ve seen inside,’ he said. ‘No baby in there. No baby napkins or clothes, either, drying by the fire or outside.’

‘I dunno what you’re talking about. Gimme my money.’

He caught her upper arm again, to stop her escaping. ‘What have you done with it?’

Mrs Mattock, hearing voices, came to the cottage door, saw them together, and scuttled back inside in an action redolent of guilt.

Tabby wriggled, testing his grip, and knew the game was up.

She blew out an angry gust. ‘It’s gone, all right?

I give it to that lady in the village, that do-good, to put with a fambly, and that’s the end of it.

Did you think I was going to saddle meself with a brat for the rest of me life?

You try it, Mr Richard Tallant, with your fancy clothes and your big house.

You didn’t want it, did you? So why should I?

It’s gone and that’s that. Now gimme my three pound. ’

He released her arm, saddened, but not surprised. ‘You’ve had two pounds already.’

‘Yeah, and I had to give it to that Miss Whassername to take the baby. I need the rest.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘The money was to support the baby, and there’s no baby to support any more.’

She lowered her voice to a hiss. ‘The money was for me to get your precious William off the hook, and I done it. So don’t you come the high-and-mighty with me! If I want a sermon I’ll go to Rector. Five pound for talking to the pleece, that was the bargain, and don’t you dare go back on it.’

He stared at her without speaking, and she took a half-step closer to him. ‘You give me the other, or you know what I’ll do. I warned you! I’ll go to the pleece and tell ’em you bribed me to lie.’

‘That’ll get you into trouble.’

‘Won’t do you no good either – and you’ve got further to fall. What’d your brother say, what’d your ma say, if you was put on a charge?’

Richard knew she was right. He felt a little sick. ‘If I pay you, what will you do?’

‘Get to hell out of this place,’ she said promptly. ‘Go to London and disappear. You’ll never see me again, you can bet on that.’

‘How do I know you’ll keep your word?’

She laughed coarsely. ‘You don’t! That’s the joke, ain’t it? But I don’t wanter be here any more’n you want me here. I’ll clear all right. I’ve only been waiting for the money.’

He really had no choice. He could only hope that self-preservation would make her go away and stay away.

Reluctantly he reached into his pocket and handed her the money.

She made it disappear into her bodice so quickly it was a blur.

‘All right,’ she said. She looked once into his face, then turned away.

‘Better clear off, Mr Tallant, ’fore anyone wonders what you’re doing here.

’ She sniggered. ‘They might think you’re paying me for a—’ She used a coarse word, and he flinched.

She laughed. ‘You look as if you could use one all right. But you won’t get it from me! ’

She went on down the path, and he hurried away, feeling unaccountably as though he needed a bath.

When giving a ball for a debutante, one of the most important things for a hostess was to secure enough unmarried men.

Nothing, as Maud knew, was more deadly to the success of a ball than an excess of girls over men, and the consequent sight of rows of girls in their finery sitting out, wilting slightly like cut flowers for which there was no vase.

It was in her mind as she read the letter from Cecily Tullamore (who was actually her aunt, but as they were of an age and had grown up together, they always called each other cousin).

It was a letter of courtesy, informing Maud that the whole Tullamore family was coming up to London for the Season, and would be taking a house in Russell Square – which was a little too far east for fashion, but though the Tullamores were wealthy (Cecily’s husband owned a good deal of land and several coal mines) they were not of the first consequence.