Death Comes to Dartmoor

by Vivian Conroy

  Had Lamb seen something suspicious and put down her glass to go explore?

  But she had been fearful, so would she go off investigating on her own?

  It didn’t make sense at all.

  “Merula!” Someone touched her shoulder.

  Merula spun round. A man with dark hair and lively eyes stood surveying her. His lips seemed to want to curve into a smile; then pain flickered in his eyes. “You look just like your mother.”

  Merula gasped for breath. “My mother? Did you know her?” Her hand went up unconsciously to where the pendant was hidden under her clothes, the one that had been left with her when she was abandoned as a baby. A pendant with a place name on it, probably here in Dartmoor. And now a man said she looked just like her mother.

  “It was a long time ago,” he said. “I could be mistaken. But I heard you introduced as Miss Merula Merriweather?”

  “That is correct. And my mother’s name was Blanche,” Merula rushed to say. She didn’t know if her father had been called Merriweather, or whether her parents had even been married, so she avoided giving a last name so the unknown man wouldn’t get confused. “She was here, in Dartmoor, before I was born. Did you know her then?”

  She had always wanted to meet someone who had known her mother, who could tell her something about her. All the things Aunt Emma had never wanted to tell her, saying it was better she didn’t know.

  “Merula!” Raven’s voice distracted her for a moment, and she looked up to where he appeared and came racing down to her. “She is not here.”

  Merula turned back toward the man who had approached her, but the spot was empty. He had walked away so suddenly that she was not even sure he had been there. She touched her forehead a moment. Was she losing her mind?

  Raven stood beside her now. “Who was that talking to you?”

  “So you also saw him?”

  “Of course I saw him. What did he want of you?”

  “He called me by my given name, even though I’ve never met him. He said I look just like my mother. He must have known her before I was born. But now he’s gone, and … I wanted to ask him so many questions.” Anguish shot through her that a chance to learn about her past had slipped through her fingers.

  Raven gestured with a hand. “Back to the most urgent matter. Lamb is not upstairs. Of course, I haven’t searched every nook and cranny, but if she just wanted to hide from the men for a moment, she wouldn’t have gone far. I don’t think she went up after all.” He sounded puzzled and worried, speeding up Merula’s heartbeat.

  “Where can she be, then?”

  Raven nodded at the front door. “Outside.”

  Merula stared through the glass into the increasing darkness. “Alone? But she was so afraid earlier.”

  “We will just try and follow her.” Raven opened the front door.

  Merula glanced back at the room where punch was being served. She wanted to talk to the man who had known her mother. She wanted to learn so many things that had been in the back of her head all her life, pushing to the fore at times, only to retreat again as Aunt Emma’s evasive responses just led to frustration on both their parts. Here was a man who had seemed genuinely pleased to see her, remembering her mother with fondness.

  Her head spun at the mere idea of what he could unlock for her.

  But Lamb was missing and they had to find her first.

  CHAPTER 9

  Outside, the cool evening air brushed Merula’s face, and the first stars were visible against the skies. The thin clouds Lamb had complained about had drifted away, and it was clear and perfect for stargazing. But Lamb wasn’t here with them to look up and see her first shooting star.

  Merula wrapped her arms around her. “What if someone wants to hurt her?”

  “Why?” Raven gestured for her to follow him across the terrace to go around the side of the house. “No one here knows her.”

  “One girl has already died. Perhaps it’s some maniac like Jack the Ripper.”

  Raven shook his head. “I’m convinced crimes are usually committed for a reason. Not just because there’s a madman on the loose.”

  Merula hurried after him. “But the villagers are angry. They destroyed the posters inviting people to come here. They attacked Oaks’s house. Perhaps it doesn’t have to be logical what they do.”

  “Lamb grew up in Rotherhithe.” Raven made an eloquent gesture. “She knows how to handle herself. She won’t just be grabbed by a madman.”

  “Then where is she?”

  They had rounded the house and were at the back now, looking out over a formal garden. Down a path strewn with broken shells, they caught a dark mass, apparently the wall of some enclosed garden. Or perhaps a maze? Some country houses drew countless visitors each summer with their intricate mazes in which one could wander for an hour without finding the center or the way out.

  Merula pointed at it. “We should look down there. Perhaps Lamb got trapped in the maze.”

  Raven had already rushed ahead of her. She had to run to keep up with him. In spite of his reassurances that nothing would happen to Lamb, he was hurrying like he was chasing a criminal. As if he was rushing to prevent …

  Merula’s mouth was dry. She should never have gone upstairs alone. Lamb had warned her earlier they had to stay together or one of them might get hurt.

  Raven halted and raised his hand. “Listen,” he whispered.

  The sound was vague at first, then becoming clear. A peal of laughter. Female.

  Raven looked at Merula. “Is it her?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never heard her laugh quite like that.”

  Intrigued, Merula was now ahead of Raven, walking to the dark-green wall of twigs and leaves. It wasn’t a maze but a hedge growing around an enclosed rose garden. They came to an entry gate, which was ajar. To their left, a wooden construction arose, heavily grown with yellow climbing roses, and they caught sight of two entwined figures. The man’s head bent down over the woman’s as he kissed her time and time again.

  Whether it was Raven’s foot hitting a bit of stone or a blackbird suddenly flying away chattering indignantly, the pair became conscious of their surroundings and broke apart. The man said something and vanished quickly around the construction while the woman stood there, still and amazed, raising her hands to her lips.

  Merula pushed the gate open and went in. “Lamb? Are you well?”

  Lamb looked at her with dazed eyes. “Yes. I’m so sorry. We were only supposed to stay away for a minute. While you were up looking at that creature.”

  Merula felt a surge of anger rush through her veins. “We’ve been looking for you for at least fifteen minutes. You can’t just walk off without telling me where you are! And who was that man? What did he want of you?”

  “He says he fell in love with me the moment he laid eyes on me.” Lamb sighed in satisfaction. “He likes me. Little old me!”

  She clasped her hands together and whirled round in a circle. “The stars in the skies must be changing people. How can he like me? But he says it is so. His kiss told me it is so.”

  She halted and reached up to touch a yellow rose, the stem of which had been slipped under the lace adornment on the neckline of her costume. “He picked this for me. He said it couldn’t compare to my beauty.”

  Merula shook her head impatiently. “You can’t just run off and let Lord Raven and me look for you. I thought you were afraid of the dark.”

  “I wasn’t alone. He would have defended me.”

  Lamb sighed again, but before she could indulge in more nonsense about her heroic defender, Merula took her arm and dragged her along. “Back to the house.”

  Her anger was mainly caused by the anxiety and guilt she had felt when Lamb had been missing and the sickening idea she might have been hurt, killed, like the other girl had been. Instead, it appeared Lamb had been courted by some man who …

  “That rose wasn’t even his to pick. This is Mr. Bixby’s garden. Or … you’re not going
to tell me it was Mr. Bixby himself, are you?”

  “Of course not. He is old!” The latter word carried an intense indignation and disgust.

  Lamb extracted herself from Merula’s grasp and passed Raven with her head down. He stood at the entry gate and studied Merula’s expression. “Are you well?”

  “Of course I am well. I could just …” Merula wrung her hands together. “She says she believed she had only been gone for a minute. While I was upstairs looking at the bear!”

  “Well, love does seem to have the effect on people that they lose sight of the time,” Raven said philosophically.

  Merula shot him an angry glance. “Don’t tell me you understand her.”

  “Not at all. Just making a statement of fact.”

  Merula wondered if Raven had ever been in love and lost track of time when he was with the woman he adored. But she wasn’t about to ask him anything about that. Not now, not ever! Feelings were just silly.

  “Who was that man anyway?” Raven asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see him properly. You?”

  “No. I think he was fairly young, though. For a moment I thought …” Raven walked with his hands folded on his back. “That it was our grocer’s son. Ben Webber.”

  “What? The man who is rumored to have wanted to marry Fern? That would be very insensitive.”

  Raven shrugged. “Or very smart. By going after another woman so soon, he can show people he’s not pining for any serious love lost. Rumors that he was snubbed by Fern will die down quickly. And by getting close to Lamb, he can also find out things about us. I’m worried he didn’t believe me when I told him I’m a newspaperman.”

  “That is not the point,” Merula objected, but before she could go on, a woman’s scream tore the silence in the gardens. It wasn’t one isolated cry but kept coming, waves of piercing screaming, as of someone in absolute terror.

  Raven broke into a run toward the sound, and Merula followed him without thinking twice about it. She heard footfalls behind her, suggesting Lamb was also coming, not because she wanted to see what it was, probably, but because she didn’t want to be left alone.

  The screaming had stopped now. The sudden startled silence was even worse, closing in on Merula from all sides like a menacing presence.

  Raven lengthened his paces and raced even faster. Merula couldn’t keep up with him. Panting for breath, she had to slow her pace, pushing a fist into her side to stop the vicious stabs there.

  Holding up her skirts so she could run faster, Lamb passed her and went after Raven. Perhaps her anger about the supposition it had been Bixby kissing her had goaded her?

  The breeze coming from the wide open moorland beyond the garden cooled the perspiration on Merula’s face, and she shivered, sucking in the air that her burning lungs craved. In the distance she thought she could hear a hound baying, a long-drawn, mournful sound. Hadn’t Bowsprit told them about a murderous hound, loose on the moors at night, hunting people? Persecuting them until they died of exhaustion or ran straight into a bog?

  What exactly had Bixby meant with his reference to animals that didn’t bite?

  Where was Raven? Why hadn’t he waited for her?

  The broken-shell path behind her seemed to creak with stealthy footfalls, and she tried to push herself into a trot again, ignoring her painful breathing. Was that a person up ahead?

  “Lamb?” she cried out, half hoarse for lack of air.

  But the shape didn’t move in her direction. It stood motionless, rooted to the spot.

  Drawing near, Merula discerned the immobile features of a female statue, a horn of plenty resting in the crook of a marble arm. An expert workman had crafted the grapes and peaches, the high forehead and delicate cheekbones, the folds of the garb that fell to her bare feet. But Merula was in no mood to admire any art at present. Pushing a hand to her stinging side again, she rounded the statue.

  The path turned to the left, but straight up ahead sat a brick well with a brazier beside it. In the wavering light of the flames, Merula spied a collapsed form on the gravel beside the well. Raven had reached the figure and leaned down over it. He said something to a man who stood a few feet away. The man replied, gestured wildly, and hurried off.

  Still clutching her hand to her side, Merula reached Raven and gasped, “Is she hurt? Is it serious?”

  “She merely fainted after seeing something inside the well, her husband said. I asked him if there was a doctor at the party. He recalled being introduced to one earlier tonight. The village doctor from Cranley. He’s fetching him now.”

  “Inside the well?” Merula picked up on the part of the tale that immediately grabbed her. “How can you even see anything inside it? It must be dark.”

  “I don’t know.” Raven had taken off his jacket and folded it, putting it underneath the woman’s head. A diamond-studded comb in her hair caught the light of the brazier in little twinkles.

  Raven muttered, “I hope her husband will hurry up and not just fetch that village doctor but also two footmen to help carry her back to the house. She can’t just lie here. The ground is damp.”

  Only half listening, Merula was irresistibly drawn to the well. To the dark, open mouth of it and the idea that something scream-inducing was hiding inside.

  She wasn’t quite sure what she expected to see as she approached, her heart in her mouth, but she just had to look.

  Her entire body was tight as she stood and leaned over to see inside. It should have been dark in there, but it wasn’t. There was light inside the well, quivering and wavering, and on the dark surface of the water …

  Merula gasped and drew back. She closed her eyes a moment, certain she couldn’t have seen that. Her mind was playing tricks on her, just as it had upon their arrival at Oaks’s house when that shadow had swooped down from between the gargoyles to unfold into a monstrously big bat.

  “What is it?” Raven was beside her, leaning his hand on her shoulder. “What did you see?”

  “Go and look. See if you see the same thing I did.” Merula drew a deep breath to steady her heartbeat.

  Raven went to the well and looked in. She saw the way his head jerked back a little and his arms tensed. He turned to her. “There’s a light in the well, and it shines on some kind of … creature.”

  “Alive or dead?” Merula’s voice trembled.

  “I’m not sure. It seemed to move.”

  “Exactly. That poor woman must have wanted to look in to see if she could draw an echo. Then she spied that thing and … Imagine seeing it when you don’t expect anything other than water.”

  Raven nodded. “I can understand why she screamed.”

  He seemed to steel himself before he looked in again. He craned his neck, then leaned both of his hands on the rough stone edge of the well.

  “Careful,” Merula warned him. “The stonework might be poor. You could fall in.”

  “I don’t think so. This stonework is fine. Someone climbed into it to attach a torch to the wall. That is the light. I suspect that same someone of putting the animal inside. I don’t think it’s alive. The movement is caused by something it rests on.” Raven spoke in concentration as he studied the interior of the well. “Something that bobs on water.”

  “What?” Merula came to stand beside him. “That means it’s some kind of … contraption? Bixby did warn us about animals, but … Is this his idea of making a little joke? Scaring his guests? Look at that poor woman!”

  “Indeed.” With a worried expression, Raven turned and went back to the fallen form. He crouched beside her and felt her pulse. “Erratic,” he called out. “Why is it taking that doctor so long?”

  Merula looked inside the well again. Now that Raven had assured her the beast was dead and was some kind of thought-up scene, she dared take a better look at the creature. It was dark, hairy, and fierce-looking. She had never seen anything like it before, not mounted, not in pictures. What on earth was it?

  Voices approached, and men rus
hed onto the scene—the husband, Bixby, another man, two footmen. Bixby spoke to someone he called Doctor, ordering him to examine the woman.

  Raven said, “If she suffered anything at all from her collapse, you are to blame, Bixby. You and your tasteless joke.”

  “Joke?” Bixby seemed confused. “What do you mean, man?”

  “That thing in the well. The dead animal you hid there, lit by torchlight so a curious guest who peeked in would get the scare of his life. Cheap, I say, and not the act of a serious scientist. Or a true gentleman.”

  Bixby flushed a deep red under this attack on all he stood for. “I have not hidden any dead animal in my well. What on earth are you talking about?”

  He walked over to the well with large strides and looked in.

  With a cry, he jumped back. “What is that? Who did that?”

  “You claim to know nothing about it?” Raven sounded dubious. “You did not order one of your people to climb in and light it, hide the creature there?”

  “No, certainly not! I deny any knowledge of it. How dare you accuse me in this manner! On my own land!”

  “When we arrived, you did speak to us of animals that would not bite,” Merula pointed out.

  Bixby laughed, an insincere sound. “Yes, I have statues of animals in my park.” He gestured around him. “Normally people walk here in the daytime and can see those animal statues from afar. Since we are now going to look at the Perseids in the dark, I thought it wise to remind people of the presence of the statues so they wouldn’t bump into one in the dark and think it was something real. I wanted to prevent this.” He pointed at the woman. “How is she, Doctor?”

  “Coming to,” the doctor said. “We can try and lift her between us and carry her back to the house, where I can better tend her.”

  The husband and the footmen lent a hand, and they carried off the unfortunate guest. Raven halted the doctor a moment. “Excuse me, but I heard you’re the village doctor from Cranley. Did you happen to examine the body of the girl who was found strangled by the river?”