The Lady and the Lake (9 page)

I
watched
his
retreating
figure
and
didn’t
know
what
to
make
of
him.
On
the
one
hand
he
was
pleasant
and
friendly,
on
the
other
he
was
aloof
and
distant.
I
walked
in
and
out
of
the
gravestones,
weaving
my
way
slowly
towards
the
monument
in
the
corner.

I
came
upon
a
fairly
new
grave
with
just
a
wooden
cross
at
its
head.
Bending over
so
I
could
see
the
name
carved
in
the
wood,
I
read,
Annie Blake
.
Aged 16
.

A
woman
tending
a
grave
nearby
watched
me
as
I
stood
up
once
more.
Her
arms
were
folded
as
she
watched
my
progress
towards
her
intently.

‘Morning,’
I
called
to
her,
‘Another
lovely
day.’

‘For
some,
maybe,’
she
replied
abruptly,
‘But
certainly
not
for
Gladys
White’s
family.’
The
girl
who’d
been
pulled
from
the
lake
at
Kerslake
Hall,
I
thought.

‘I’m
really
sorry,’
I
said
sincerely,
for
while
I
didn’t
know
the
girl,
I
felt
compassion
for
her
family.

‘Are
you
working
up
at
the
Hall
then?’
she
questioned.

‘Yes
indeed,
but
I
arrived
only
yesterday.’
As
I
spoke,
I
had
neared
the
woman
and
stopped
before
her.

‘You
don’t
really
know
the
Master
then?
Though
I
saw
you
with
him
just
now.
Thought
you
were
one
of
his
women
until
I
saw
you
closer
and
realised
you
weren’t
wearing
an
expensive
gown.’
I was
shocked
at
this
revelation.

‘You
are
right,
I’m
not
one
of
his
women,’
I
said,
indignation
rising
in
me.

‘Just
as
well,
for
he
has
a
cruel
steak
in
him,
that
one.
He
killed
his
lovely
young
wife
as
sure
as
I’m
standing
here
talking
to
you,
and
I
wouldn’t
doubt
that
he
killed
poor
Annie
and
Gladys,
too,
in
his
lake.
God
rest
their
souls.’

To
say
I
was
astonished
was
an
understatement.
I
was
for
once
tongue-tied.

‘Oh,
yes,’
she
continued,
‘You
watch
that
one.’

‘Thank
you
for
telling
me,’
was
all
I
managed
to
say
and
then
I
watched
her
walk
to
the
lychgate,
swinging
the
watering
can
she
carried
to
and
fro.

As
I
walked
towards
the
corner
of
the
churchyard,
my
mind
was
in
a
whirl,
names
of
people
were
racing
through
my
brain,
Antony,
Thomas,
Miss
Anderson,
Alice
and
Emily.

Poor
Emily,
who
loved
her
father
so
much
and
was
so
innocent.
I
could hardly
believe
it
and
wouldn’t
believe
it.
He
was
innocent
until
proved
guilty
and
there
again,
was
he
innocent?

I’d
reached
my
goal.
The
mausoleum
was
indeed
the
Kershaws’
final
resting
place.
It
was
tall
and
stately,
rising
out
of
the
ground
into
a
triangular
peak
which
was
intricately
carved.
I
read
many
names
and
dates,
some
going
back
to
the
seventeenth
century,
all
Kershaws
except
one.

The
name
jumped
out
at
me,
Albert
Miles.
Died
January
the
10th
aged
30
years.
The
inscription
puzzled
me.
Why
would
a
Miles
be
buried
in
a
Kershaw
grave?
Then
I
spotted
what
I
think
I’d
been
looking
for.

Phoebe
Kershaw.
Beloved
wife
of
Antony
Kershaw.
Mother
of
Emily.
Died
July
15th,
1888.
Aged
28
years.

The
day
I’d
arrived
at
Kerslake
Hall,
July
the
fifteenth,
and
Gladys
had
died
that
day.
I
was
anxious
to
know
what
date
Annie
died,
but
I
wasn’t
to
find
out
today,
for
Antony
Kershaw’s
voice
arrested
my
attention.

‘So
you
found
the
Kershaw
mausoleum
then.’
As
he
spoke,
I
turned
round
to
look
at
him
and
took
a
step
back.
Was
I
looking
at
a
loving
son,
husband
and
father?
Or
a
murderer?

4

Mrs
Grafton
pounced
on
me
as
soon
as
I
stepped
into
the
hall
on
my
return.
‘The
Mistress
wishes
to
see
you
now,’
she
said
with
a
look
of
triumph
on
her
face.

‘I’ll
follow
you
then,
Mrs
Grafton.’
Once
more
the
housekeeper
led
me
to
Mrs
Kershaw’s
sitting-room,
the
corridor
didn’t
seem
so
dark
today.

‘Abigail
Sinclair,’
Henrietta’s
voice
boomed
out,
It’s
not
enough
that
I
have
to
rise
early
to
be
questioned
by
a
young
policeman,
bombastic
man.
But
that’s
by
the
by,
more
importantly
I
find
that
my
most
recent
employee,
namely
you,
is
riding
around
the
countryside
with
my
son
who
tells
me
that
you
are
to
teach
in
the
schoolroom
for
two
days.’
As
she
spoke
the
old
lady
pointed
her
cane
at
me.

‘But,’
I
interrupted.

‘And
why
are
you
wearing
a
green
dress
when
I
specifically
requested
that
you
wear
grey,
tell
me
that?’

‘I,’
but
I
was
not
to
be
given
the
chance
to
explain.

‘Well
Abigail,
take
the
week
off
why
don’t
you,
and
please
don’t
interrupt
me
again.
You
are
dismissed
from
my
presence
for
the
time
being
at
least.’

As
I
left
the
room
I
felt
inclined
to
slam
the
door
shut,
but
thought
better
of
it,
for
bad
manners
would
get
me
nowhere.
I’d
been
well
and
truly
trounced
by
an
old
lady
who
had
left
me
bristling
with
anger.

I
was
not
therefore
in
a
good
frame
of
mind
when
I
bumped
headlong
into
Thomas
Craddock.

‘Begging
your
pardon
Miss
Sinclair,’
he
apologised,
and
then
took
my
shoulders
holding
me
at
arms
length.
‘Why,
you
look
positively
in
the
doldrums.
Now
what
can
I
do
to
rectify
that?’
His
words
brought
a
smile
to
my
face,
also
the
touch
of
his
hands
on
my
shoulders
was
very
pleasant.
‘That’s better,’
he
sighed,
cupping
his
hand
under
my
chin
and
turning
my
face
to
look
at
him.
‘What
ails
you?’

‘Your
aunt,’
I
replied
peevishly.

‘Dear
Aunt
Henry?
She
blows
cold
air
trust
me
and
don’t
take
it
to
heart,’
he
soothed.

‘Why
no,
I
shouldn’t
let
her
spoil
the
day,’
I
said
in
agreement.

‘I’m
afraid
Miss
Sinclair,
the
day
is
already
spoiled
by
what
I
discovered
in
the
lake
this
morning.’
At
these
words
he
looked
very
serious.

‘Yes,
I
did
hear
at
breakfast
time,
but
did
not
know
until
now
who
had
found
poor
Gladys,’
I
said,
touching
his
arm
in
a
gesture
of
sympathy.

‘It
was
rather
a
gruesome
find,
the
poor
girl
was
lying
across
the
edge
of
the
lake
with
her
head
bobbing
on
the
water.’

At
these
words
I
felt
physically
sick
and
could
imagine
the
whole
scene.
‘You
look
rather
pale
Miss
Sinclair,
I
fear
I’ve
distressed
you.
Now
let
us
put
it
out
of
our
minds,
how
about
coming with
me
for
a
walk
to
Thursdon
Abbey?’
he
suggested
with
enthusiasm.

‘Yes,
I’d
like
that,
and
as
I’ve
been
given
the
week
off
I’m
sure
no
harm
is
done,’
I
laughed.

‘Now,
that’s
better.
Sit
on
this
chair
while
I
persuade
Ada
to
pack
up
some
sandwiches
and
lemonade.’
I
did
as
he
bid
thinking
he
could
charm
the
birds
out
of
the
trees.

***

Despite
being
instructed
to
use
the
servants’
entrance,
I
found
myself
stepping
out
of
the
main
door
for
the
second
time
that
day,
with
Thomas
by
my
side
and
the
sun
beating
down.
It
was
hard
to
believe
that
a
young
girl
had
died
so
recently
in
the
vicinity.

‘Do
you
think
she
was
murdered?’
I
asked
Thomas,
for
I
was
keen
to
know
his
opinion.

‘It’s
hard
to
tell,’
he
answered,
‘for
one
thing,
who
would
want
to
kill
her
and
what
was
she
doing
in
the
grounds of
Kerslake
Hall?
I
found
her
near
the
plaque
Antony
had
placed
in
Phoebe’s
memory.
For
that
is
where
Phoebe
was
found,
not
far
from
the
summer
pavilion.
She
could
have
tripped
over
the
plaque
if
it
was
dark.’
As
Thomas
talked
we
found
ourselves
outside
the
boundary
of
the
Hall
and
following
a
hilly
dirt
track.