by Jude Bayton
“Jillian, are you all right?” His voice was weighed with concern, and I quickly responded, feeling somewhat absurd at my lack of balance. He made to scoop me up to my feet, but I stopped him.
“Give me a moment to catch my breath,” I asked, dusting away granules of dirt embedded in my sore hands. It was then it caught my eye. Lying by the rope which had caused my fall, I saw something shiny which looked out of place. Slowly I rose to my feet and took a step closer.
“What is it?” asked Dominic with a frown.
“There is an object stuck underneath the rope.” I bent down and reached for the article. My fingers tugged it from its hiding place, and I straightened back up, simultaneously opening my palm to show my find. It was a small watch fob. Not ornamental, but sturdy and well worn. The clock face was scratched but framed by an engraved horseshoe. I turned it over to study the back. Here was another engraving, this time it was initialed, faded but still legible.
“Look at this, Dominic.” I held out my hand so he might see what I had read. The letters ‘J.F.’ were clearly marked. Dominic turned it over and looked at the front of the fob and then his eyes swung up to meet mine.
“Jareth Flynn?” I said quietly.
“Yes,” he agreed. “’Tis the blacksmith’s watch.”
Chapter Sixteen
WE HURRIED BACK TO WOLFE Farm. The trek was wet and muddy, and the wind howled. After hurriedly shedding our raincoats and boots, we hastened into the kitchen where Dominic quickly put a kettle of water on the hob and stoked the fire. Before long, we sat in front of a roaring blaze sipping our tea, while our limbs thawed from the damp.
“Jareth must have been at the boathouse before he was murdered.” My mind had been spinning theories since finding the timepiece.
“It certainly appears that way. Because if he didn’t leave his watch there, who did?” Dominic’s frown deepened between his brows.
“It could have slipped out of a pocket onto the floor of the dock. But it was underneath the rope, so it must have been dropped and then slid under there.”
Dominic stared at me. “What is your theory?”
I shrugged. “Flynn’s watch could have come off if the chain broke. Or, if the blacksmith was there, he could have been in a tussle which would have snapped it.” It was a guess, but to my mind it made sense. “He was murdered, and his body found quite close to the boathouse, Dominic. It is quite possible he was in a struggle, perhaps he was even stabbed there? The killer could have moved his body into the lake. Peggy said she saw him take his last breath.”
Dominic nodded. “Plausible—but still guesswork. Someone has definitely been using the place, judging by what we saw. I just wish I knew who.”
“Perhaps Jareth was meeting someone there? Could he have had a rendezvous with Evergreen?” I did not know anything about the man, but Mrs Stackpoole had told me he was a handsome fellow. Was Evergreen LaVelle involved in a relationship with him? It seemed far-fetched to me.
“Unless he was here to spy on someone else,” Dominic commented, in between sipping his tea.
“But who else is there?”
“Well, the fact there was a wine bottle leads me to believe it was none of the village folk.” Dominic rose to pour himself another mug of tea before sitting back down. “They are far more likely to drink ale. So, it would be someone with easy access to a wine cellar, and who isn’t overly concerned about using a place owned by the LaVelles.”
“Then it has to be someone from Hollyfield House, be it one of the family, or a servant,” I stated.
“Seems logical to me.” Dominic retrieved the watch from his pocket and studied it.
I watched his expression. “What shall you do with it? Take it to Constable Bloom?” I did not think for one minute he would. My guess was he would pass it on to Victor.
“No, Jillian. I’d rather show it to Victor first and get his opinion.”
I agreed it was the wisest choice to make based on the little we knew.
Suddenly, there was loud pounding on the door of the cottage. Dominic leapt to his feet and went to answer it. He shouted my name, and I ran into the hallway. In the doorway stood a child of about seven, his large brown eyes wild with fear and his conversation punctuated by sobs.
“What is it?” I cried in alarm as Dominic threw on his coat and boots.
“Jem cannot find his sister—says she’s run off and he’s scared she’s gone down to the lake. I’m going to try and find her.” With that, he was gone—out into the pouring rain.
Quickly I threw on my wet coat and muddy boots. I slammed the door closed as I ran to catch up with them. I followed Dominic and the lad, who were quite far ahead of me. Where were the parents of this waif-like child? The boy was too young to be out alone in such bad weather, and not dressed warm enough either.
It did not take long to reach the banks of Lake Windemere. The usually calm waters slapped against the shore, whipped up by the wind and rain. Dominic began calling out the girl’s name, which sounded like Jenny. He walked along the shoreline, looking for a sign of the child. I finally caught up with them, and he gestured for me to go in the opposite direction so we could cover more ground. I did, and began shouting her name as loud as I could.
We appeared to be the only people about, and no wonder. The weather had turned nasty, and I heard thunder rumbling overhead. I scanned the land and water before me, but all I could see were rolling grey waves. But then, something bright caught my eye. It was a speck of red in the distance, easy to see against the backdrop of the gloomy day. I turned and shouted to Dominic but did not wait for him to get to me. I ran towards a small outcrop of trees whose branches reached out quite a way over the water. Perched near the end of a large branch, hanging on for dear life was a tiny slip of a girl.
“It’s all right, Jenny,” I called as I drew closer. “Hold on. We’re coming to get you!”
Dominic passed me at a full run with Jem close on his heels. By the time I reached the trees, Dominic had already discarded his boots and coat and was climbing the trunk of the enormous willow.
The little girl had somehow crawled practically to the end of a branch which would not support the weight of an adult. I watched in utter dismay as Dominic tried to find a parallel branch that could support him, so he might be able to pluck her to safety. He finally selected one, and I covered my mouth to stop the cry of anguish which threatened. Beside me, a small hand crept its way into mine, and I squeezed Jem’s cold fingers in reassurance.
Gingerly, Dominic dragged his body carefully along the branch, edging slowly down its length as he neared the child. Below the tree, the lake swelled, and I could not tell how deep it might be.
“Can Jenny swim?” I asked Jem, who leaned against me, tears streaming down his face.
“No, she can’t, miss,” he cried. “She be only four.” He began to sob. I could not comfort the lad because I had my eyes fixed upon Dominic. He was almost close enough to reach Jenny. I watched as he held tightly to the tree limb and then reached down his arm to the girl. I could not hear him, but saw his mouth moving, trying to encourage her to take hold of him. But Jenny was too scared, and she shook her little head. The seconds stretched into minutes, or so it seemed, as Dominic begged her to grab onto his outstretched hand.
And then she reluctantly let go of her grip to reach out to him, just as a mighty crack sounded and Jenny’s branch tumbled into the water, taking her with it.
“No!” screamed Jem, running full speed to the water. I chased him, grabbing his clothes before he could rush in, as from the corner of my eye I saw Dominic drop into the lake from the safety of the tree.
I put my arms around the writhing boy, and he calmed when he realised what was happening. I scoured the water for a sign of Dominic, or the girl. I saw Dominic’s head break the surface and the breath caught in my throat. But just as quickly he disappeared again beneath the roiling waves. My heart hammered, not in fear for this man I cared so deeply for because I knew he could swi
m. But I was terrified for the poor little mite he sought to save.
All at once, his head reappeared. Both Jem and I were transfixed as we saw first his head and neck clear the water, then his shoulders, and finally his arms, wrapped tightly around a small figure clinging to him like a barnacle.
As Dominic made it to shore, I took off my coat and wrapped it around the shivering little body he placed into my arms. She weighed almost nothing, and her skin was blue with cold and fright.
“Hush,” I soothed. “You are safe now, little one. No need to be scared now, hush.” I pulled her to my breast and held her tight, willing any warmth from my body into hers. Dominic collected his coat and boots, and we quickly left the lake for home. We dispatched Jem to the mill to fetch his mother, with orders to bring her to Wolfe Farm straight away.
The next hour passed quickly. I removed Jenny’s wet clothing and wrapped her in a blanket before the fire. Dominic changed into dry clothes and then warmed a mug of fresh milk for the child. As she sipped the drink, I saw the grey fade from her skin as her pallor slowly returned to normal. By the time Jem arrived with his frantic mother in tow, Jenny was sitting on Dominic’s lap while he read her a story from one of Billy’s old books.
“Oh Dom, how can I thank you for savin’ my Jenny?” The slightly built woman had tears in her eyes as she collected her daughter from Dominic’s lap.
“No need for thanks, Maggie,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’m just glad we got her. Her big brother is the real hero. He was clever enough to find help.” He reached down and tousled the boy’s hair. Jem gave a broad grin, devoid of front teeth.
I felt strangely left out as I watched the scene before me. Not being a local, I knew so few people. I turned my head to stare into the fire.
“Jillian, come and meet Maggie Riley.” Dominic said. I rose and joined them. The young woman reached a hand to grasp mine.
“Thank you, miss, for comin’ to their rescue. ’Tis so naughty of Jenny to slip out. She do like that water, and we can’t seem to keep her away from it. As soon as yer back is turned, she’s away!”
“Is there no one else to watch her while you are working?” I asked, although I did not want to sound judgmental.
“Usually, it’s my oldest boy we leave in charge of the young’uns. But he went to Kendal to get our horse shod—with Jareth gone we’ve no blacksmith in Ambleside. Jem here had to watch over ’em instead—” She fixed the lad with a harsh glare and his face reddened as he stared to the floor.
“Still,” she continued. “As long as no one comes down with a chill, they’ll be no real harm done.” She smiled at me and I saw the etching of fatigue around her dark eyes. At once, I felt fortunate indeed with my situation. Maggie could not have been much older than me, yet already her hard life took its toll.
The young mother declined the offer of a hot drink and instead wanted to get home and settle her children. She bade us farewell, and I waited while Dominic saw them out of the farmhouse.
When he returned to the kitchen, he pulled his chair closer to mine so that he faced me and then reached out to grasp my hands in his. “My goodness, Jillian Farraday. You must wonder what kind of wild place you have landed in since you came to Ambleside. It has been one adventure after another, has it not?”
I smiled. “I would hardly call it that, Dominic. But you are right. It has certainly not been dull.” I squeezed his fingers. “You did a fine thing today, saving little Jenny. You are a courageous man. ’Tis no wonder I find you so dashing.”
He gave a low chuckle, “Then you are easily impressed, madam.” His eyes shone with the glow of the fire, and he leaned forward. Our lips met gently, and the slow ripple of pleasure trickled through my senses as it always did whenever he touched me. It was a lingering, tender kiss, no urgency or passion, simply a joining together and a comforting acknowledgement. I drew away after a time and stared at his face.
“Are you all right?” I said softly, for he looked spent—and no wonder.
“I am fine. Cold, tired and worried. But at least I have you to bring a little sunshine to my night. You have been invaluable as my dearest of friends. Thank you for helping me.” He reached for my chin and lifted it, so that our eyes met. “I mean it sincerely, Jilly. You are more than a tonic to me at this terrible time.”
Abruptly he got to his feet and pushed the chair back to its usual place. “But now, I must get ready. I am to see Billy later this afternoon. It looks as though the rain is beginning to abate. Will you excuse me while I go and dress for the journey?”
“Of course,” I too stood up. “I had better make my way home and see to Uncle Jasper. There is bound to be something I can help him with in readiness for this evening. Will you attend the lectures tonight?”
“Yes, I would not miss it.” He paused thoughtfully. “About Jared’s watch, can you keep the discovery between us for now?”
“Why?” I frowned—it was an important find, after all.
Dominic looked at me, earnestly. “Because of its implication. If indeed it was Evergreen meeting Flynn at the boathouse for a tryst, I would rather keep our suspicions from Victor, until we have substantial proof. The man has enough on his plate as it is.”
Dominic was right. I agreed and slipped on my sodden coat. I gathered my umbrella. “I shall see you tonight then.” We embraced, and our lips met briefly, but I could see his thoughts had already travelled to his next concern, and I could not fault him for it.
JUDGING BY THE MESS IN MY uncle’s study, an observer would have thought the world was coming to an end. Uncle Jasper was in a dither, his wispy hair stuck straight up, his spectacles were askew, and papers lay scattered upon every surface. Mrs Stackpoole stood by his desk, her hands placed on her hips. Several strands of white hair had escaped her mob-cap, and she appeared quite vexed.
“Is something amiss?” I enquired having just arrived home.
“’Tis page eighteen,” Uncle Jasper gasped. “I cannot find it.” His eyes were wide, and his worry evident.
I went to him and took his shaking hands. “Do not panic, Uncle. It will be here somewhere.” Behind him, Mrs Stackpoole rolled her eyes. I glanced at her. “Would you pop the kettle on while I help Uncle Jasper?”
She raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. “Of course.” She left the room.
I helped my uncle to the fireside, and he sat down. Whenever he was upset, I had noticed he would suddenly appear very frail and old. I did not like to see him in such a state.
“Uncle, you need to have a nice cup of tea while we think about where you last had your papers.” A long conversation ensued. By the time Mrs Stackpoole appeared with a tray of refreshments, page eighteen was nestled between seventeen and nineteen once more. All was right with the world.
I SPENT THE REMAINDER OF THE afternoon preparing for the evening at Lord Mountjoy’s home. I took great pains to iron Uncle Jasper’s shirt, cravat and suit. I fervently hoped he would take a stiff brush to his hair and trim his beard.
I was aware how plain I looked in my dress. It was the same one I had worn for both dinner engagements at Hollyfield, and I sorely wished I might have something more fetching tonight. I smoothed down my skirts and patted the back of my hair. I had fashioned it into a chignon but placed a few tiny silk flowers tucked in here, and there, with the hope it might make me appear less dull. I thought about what Evergreen might be wearing tonight. No doubt something exquisite and fashionable. She was far bolder than I, especially with the revealing necklines of which she was so fond.
I never wore low-cut gowns, and not just because of modesty. I was born with a dark brown birthmark, an oblong shape roughly the size of a strawberry. It had never bothered me as a child because it was seldom visible. Now a woman, I felt far more self-conscious of the blasted thing. Though no eyes but my own ever saw it.
IT HAD STOPPED RAINING IN THE middle of the afternoon, and when Lord Mountjoy’s carriage arrived promptly at six o’clock, it was pleasantly warm once again. A f
ootman assisted Uncle Jasper with the boxes containing specimens and items for his talk, while Mrs Stackpoole and I got into the cab. We were both excited and nervous at the prospect of an evening at Mountjoy House. I had never seen the grand estate, and Mrs Stackpoole, though local, had never been inside. I also anticipated speaking with Lady Louisa. I thought it fascinating she was an actual writer. How I yearned to be as independent and intellectual as she.
Mountjoy House was situated on the other side of the lake to Hollyfield. It was further away than I expected, but as we turned into its long drive, I caught my breath in wonder. It was a magnificent stately building. Regal and imperial, bold with its black and white Tudor design. Even from our distance at the entrance of ornate gilded gates, Mountjoy House was a jewel in the heart of the district.
Our driver took his place behind a long chain of carriages which snaked along, eventually slowing as they neared the front steps, stopping briefly to allow each passenger to alight.
The excitement was palpable. I followed my uncle and Mrs Stackpoole up broad steps and through wide-open doors where several footmen stood awaiting the guests. Uncle Jasper and Mrs Stackpoole, were escorted to the great hall to prepare for his lecture. I was shown into a large reception room, where many tables were laden with drinks and sweetmeats.
I glanced around to see if Dominic had arrived but could not see him. I did spy Evergreen, however. She was listening to a handsome young man, an expression of boredom spread across her lovely face. She caught my eye and without a word, simply walked away from the man while he was in mid-sentence.
“Thank God, you are come, Jillian.” She rolled her blue eyes dramatically. “I have been here not twenty minutes, and already I am bored beyond comprehension.”
I shook my head. “Evergreen, you are so very difficult to please. The young man you were just speaking with was quite comely—”
“Your eyes must be failing, Jillian. He is some scientific boffin from Oxford. I’d rather talk to a sofa.” She flicked her eyes over my attire. “Goodness, my dear, we really must purchase a new gown for you. I cannot bear to see you wear the same droll dress for every occasion.”
