Death in the Dark Walk (24 page)

‘How terrible!'

‘Oh yes. Of course he did not respond, being a sensible man of mature years, but the very thought of it was enough to make me dismiss her, though I did allow poor Eleanor to stay.'

‘Eleanor?'

‘Elizabeth's cousin, who also worked here. The tension between them was enormous because of Jemmy – Eleanor believed herself in love with him – and in the end the situation erupted in the most unseemly manner.'

‘What happened?'

‘They came to blows in this very house, in the kitchen. Just as I was preparing to entertain guests.'

‘How inconsiderate,' said John, his expression pained.

‘Lud, Mr Rawlings, it was frightful. The crashing and banging could be heard all over the building and when we rushed to see what it was, they were rolling upon the floor, clawing and biting.'

‘What did you do?'

‘It was my nephew, James, who separated them, being rather strong for his age. I must confess that I think he thought it amusing. Anyway, I had the wretched girl thrown out of doors and not long afterwards I heard she had gone to London.' Miss Leagrave's expression became earnest. ‘
Do
you really think it is the same Lizzie Harper, Mr Rawlings?'

‘From what you say, it sounds very likely.'

‘Then how small is the world.'

‘Uncannily so.'

Miss Leagrave gave him a narrowed glance. ‘One can hardly credit that fate should bring you, who knows so much about it, here, to the very place in which she worked.'

The lady was no fool and John knew it. None the less he felt unable to take her into his confidence, sensing that the Squire's unmarried elder sister would fiercely protect her brother and nephew against all corners, even if it meant lying in order to do so.

He cleared his throat. ‘Life is full of inexplicable events, Miss Leagrave. Who knows what destiny guides our footsteps?' He put down his cup. ‘And now I feel I have trespassed upon your time enough. With your permission I shall step into the garden, rain or no rain.'

Still with a look of suspicion about her, his hostess said, ‘I shall send one of the gardener's boys to accompany you. He can, perhaps, be of assistance.'

And with that she swept from the room, leaving John in great doubt about whether he had said too much, so that Miss Leagrave had guessed something, if not all, of the truth.

Outside, the rain was falling as hard as ever, though there was in fact something rather beautiful and refreshing about it. Not caring whether he got soaked, John stood stock still, ignoring the boy, who stared at him open-mouthed as the Apothecary listened to the song of a thrush, then tilted his face upwards to be bedewed by drops. He appeared to be even more astonished when John dropped to his knees on the sodden grass and, with fingers quite small and delicate for a man's, started to pluck at the fragile stems of the plants in order to fill his baskets.

‘How long are you planning on being out here, Sir?' the boy asked, turning up the collar of his coat.

‘Till I've finished,' John answered over his shoulder. ‘But you can go in if you like.'

‘More than my job's worth, that would be. The Mistress said not to leave your side.'

‘I can well imagine,' John said with a cynical smile. He looked up at the boy, sweeping him with a forthright gaze. ‘Like gardening, do you?'

‘I do, Sir. I've a mind to be head gardener one day.'

‘Well, kneel down by me and I'll show you what plants are used to make medicines. That might be useful information for you. It always pays to know more than your elders.' The Apothecary plucked a primrose. ‘This flower produces many a good remedy. Were you aware of that?'

‘No, Sir.'

‘You ought to be, a boy of your age. Tell me, how old
are
you?'

‘Sixteen, Sir. One year older than Master James.'

‘Known him a long time, I suppose?'

‘Six years. I started work here when I was ten.'

‘Then you must have met Lizzie Harper.'

An extraordinary expression crossed the boy's face, almost one of furtive excitement. ‘We don't talk about her in this house.'

‘Oh? Why is that?'

‘The Mistress forbade us to.'

‘Because she fought with Eleanor?'

‘No, not for that. It was for the other thing.'

‘What other thing?'

But the boy had closed his mouth firmly, shaking his head. ‘No, Sir, I'm forbidden. If I tell I'll be dismissed.'

‘I understand,' said John, and turned his full attention to the gathering of his simples.

An hour later he had finished, by now wet through and caked with dirt. Bowing on the front door step, too unkempt to come into the house, John's crooked smile flashed in his grimy face as he took his leave of Miss Leagrave.

‘My dear lady, how can I thank you enough? I only hope that my physick brings you relief from your ills. Should you require any more bottles, which I shall be happy to present to you as a gift, please send word to The Spread Eagle. I shall be there for a few more days.'

‘Have you found all you were seeking?' asked Miss Leagrave, very pointedly John thought.

He decided to answer in an equally barbed manner. ‘Not quite all, Madam. There are still one or two things left to discover.'

She twitched her eyebrows and said nothing, and John had no option but to take his leave, trudging off through the rain, well aware that any further visits to Court Green would probably have to be made in secret.

The next obvious move would appear to be a confrontation with James Leagrave, including a search in his clothes press, seeking the coat from which the piece of material had been torn, even though John was beginning to despair of this line of enquiry. So far, not one of the men in the case had owned a garment even resembling the fragment, and he was fast coming to the conclusion that the killer was aware of what had happened and had disposed of the evidence. However, there was still a chance that the torn coat was being hidden somewhere, and he was not quite ready to give up the search without one further attempt at finding it. Hands in his pockets, John plodded through the rain, marshalling his thoughts.

There was no apparent motive for James wanting to kill Lizzie, despite Sir Gabriel's belief that the boy could well have nursed a youthful passion for her. Yet John's chat with Miss Leagrave had revealed one new and very interesting fact. The murdered girl had thrown herself at the Squire who had, apparently, refused her.

‘But I wonder,' thought John, ‘I just wonder about that.' Then big mind went on to the task before him and he braced his shoulders.

Before he left London, John Fielding had asked that the Apothecary should take it upon himself to break the news of Elizabeth Harper's death to her adopted father.

‘I'm afraid you must act in your official capacity, Mr Rawlings. A most unpleasant duty, but there it is.'

‘Then I will have to reveal to him the fact that I lied when we last met,' John had protested.

‘Not lied, merely did not tell all the truth,' the Blind Beak had answered urbanely, and there the matter had been allowed to rest. And now the moment had come. Pulling his watch from an inner pocket, John saw that he had spent so long in the wild garden that he had missed dinner completely, and decided there and then to go to the mill and get the awful task over.

It was almost dark by the time he reached his destination, though not so much because of the lateness of the hour as the general gloom of the day. The great wheel was silent once more, the milling having been done that morning, but John gazed anxiously at the swollen pond, thinking how treacherous it would be to miss one's footing in the darkness. Just as uneasy as he had been on the last occasion he had come to this place, he knocked softly on the cottage door.

Jacob Benbow answered almost immediately and stood swaying in the opening, his hair and body as drenched as John's, proving that he, too, had recently been walking in the rain.

‘Yes?' he said belligerently, and the Apothecary could tell by his slurred speech and general demeanour that the man was well on the way to being drunk.

‘Rawlings, Master,' John answered politely. ‘I wonder if I might step inside a moment out of the downpour.'

The miller stared into the gloom. ‘Who the devil are you?' he asked unpleasantly.

‘John Rawlings, the apothecary who came here the other day.'

‘Oh yes, I remember. The flower gatherer. You'd better come in.'

And with that Jacob stepped back to allow John into the cottage, where he stood in the humble room, the water dripping from his clothes forming a puddle round his feet.

The Apothecary cleared his throat, trying to look as solemn as he could with a trickle of water running down his nose. ‘Master Benbow, I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you,' he began.

The miller looked at him blankly, as if he hadn't understood a word his visitor said.

‘It's about your adopted daughter, Elizabeth Harper,' John continued bravely.

‘Elizabeth?' Jacob repeated hoarsely. ‘You have word of her? Dear God, I never thought I'd live to see the day.'

‘The tidings are not good, I'm afraid. I lied to you previously when I told you I knew nothing of her. The fact is that I
do
have information, quite a good deal of it, but it is not pleasant. The truth, Master Benbow, is that Elizabeth is dead.'

‘Bastard!' screamed the miller. ‘Blackguard! Knave!' And seizing John's collar in a huge ham of a fist, he swung him into the air, his feet kicking helplessly above the floor.

‘For God's sake, man,' John gasped, half choking. ‘I am only the messenger. If you kill me you'll have to answer to John Fielding, London's Principal Magistrate. For I am his representative and he'll come looking for me, rest assured.'

‘You're a liar and a thief,' Benbow continued, the veins bulging on his forehead. ‘Nobody tells me that my girl is dead. Nobody, d'ye hear?'

‘Did you love her that much?' panted John, spots swimming before his eyes.

‘Aye, I did,' Benbow answered, and then as suddenly as he had picked the Apothecary up, he released him again and sat down hard in the wooden chair beside the rough-hewn table.

Gulping for air, John watched as the miller thrust his head into his hands and heaved with sobs. ‘Oh no,' he kept repeating. ‘Oh no, oh no.'

‘Look,' the Apothecary said as sympathetically as he could in view of the fact that the man had half choked him. ‘I know you worshipped the ground she walked on, probably more so than was natural in the circumstances. But the fact remains that somebody hated your adopted daughter enough to kill her. For that's the truth. Elizabeth was murdered, and now you have been told it all.'

Jacob wept bitterly. ‘If only you had known her. Her beauty and her grace. No man could resist her, I tell you. I know what I did was wrong but I couldn't control myself.' A dark eye swivelled in John's direction. ‘You didn't know her, did you? You're not one of her lovers pretending to represent the law?'

John shook his head. ‘No, I'm dealing straight with you, and I apologise that I did not do so on the last occasion we met.'

Benbow did not answer, merely continuing to weep.

‘Listen,' John said quietly, ‘I am not here to sit in moral judgement of you. I am a man like any other. But for all that I am duty bound to ask you certain questions. Would you prefer me to come back tomorrow when you are more in control of yourself?'

Jacob looked up, his eyes still pouring. ‘No, ask away. Let all the filth come out if it must.'

‘Right.' John took a seat opposite him and poured out two beakers of ale from the pitcher that stood on the table. ‘Firstly, you were her lover, I suppose?'

‘Yes, yes,' answered the wretched man brokenly. ‘I corrupted her when she was scarce more than a child. I have lived with the shame ever since.'

‘Perhaps,' the Apothecary answered in a very quiet voice, ‘she wanted you to make love to her. After all, you were not tied by blood.'

‘No, but I had the responsibility for her welfare and I grossly betrayed that trust. I am less than the dust and must carry my scar to the grave.'

A thought occurred to John and he asked, ‘Did Eleanor know what was going on?'

Jacob's head came up and he looked at his questioner properly for the first time. ‘No, I don't think so. Why?'

‘It was just an idea I had. And tell me one thing more. Was Eleanor's body ever washed ashore?'

‘No, it wasn't. Why are you asking these things?'

‘Because I want to assure myself that she really is dead. How do you know that she didn't wander off somewhere? What proof have you?'

‘None, except that my daughter wouldn't do that to me.' And then the miller obviously made the connection between John's earlier question and this and gave the Apothecary a startled look.

‘Be that as it may, would it be possible for me to visit her room before I go?'

The miller shook his head, the water glistening on his matted curls. ‘What good would that do?'

‘None, probably. It's simply that I would like to get some idea of what she was like and seeing her things might help me.'

‘Very well.' Benbow sighed heavily. ‘I'll take you up before you leave. And then will you have done with me, Sir?'

‘Almost,' said John soothingly. ‘There's one more thing. Confirm for me if you will that Elizabeth's beauty brought its share of enemies.'

‘Aye, that it did. Men desired her and women were jealous. A fierce and powerful combination.'

‘Indeed it is.'

The miller paused, then said slowly, ‘Do you think there's a chance my Eleanor could still be alive, Sir?'

‘Who knows?' John answered, as he followed Jacob Benbow up the wooden spiral to the place where both Lizzie and Eleanor had once shared an overcrowded bedroom.