by Linda Sole
It was the middle of the next morning when the housekeeper entered Julia’s bedchamber and glanced anxiously at the bed.
‘How is the mistress?’
‘She was awake earlier and she had the tea and bread and butter you sent up, but she didn’t want the broth. I think a nice piece of cold chicken later might tempt her appetite.’
‘There’s plenty of roast meat, including capon and duck,’ the housekeeper replied. ‘None of it got eaten yesterday. Shall I send up a sandwich or leave it on the plate with a little relish?’
‘I think that would be best – and I’ll have the same.’ Roz saw that the other woman hesitated. ‘Was there something else?’
‘The Reverend Jenkins is downstairs. He wants to talk to you.’
‘To me? I’ll come down now. Julia is sleeping so she won’t miss me for a while.’
‘I think there’s something wrong, ma’am, but I don’t know what.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Monks. I’ll come immediately.’
Roz had a cold tingling at the nape of her neck as she went downstairs. Why had the vicar come to visit and what had the housekeeper sensed?
She walked into the small parlour and saw the vicar standing looking out of the window. He was obviously alert and waiting for her, because he turned as soon as she entered.
‘Ah, Mrs Rushden. Forgive me for calling this way at such a time but I thought it might be best if the news came from me rather than a stranger. You must prepare yourself for a shock.’
‘A shock? Has something happened to Philip? He didn’t come home last night but I was told it has happened before.’
‘No, Mrs Rushden, it isn’t your brother.’ The Reverend Jenkins looked anxious. ‘Mr Rushden – your husband, has been murdered.’
‘Harry . . . murdered?’
Roz felt her knees go weak. She gave a little sigh and grabbed at a fragile whatnot for support, sending it and a china figure flying. The vicar sprang to her aid, helping her to the nearest chair.
‘Forgive me. I did not know how else to tell you. I was informed that Sir Philip was not here and I knew that your sister-in-law was ill . . .’
Roz shook her head, putting out her hand to stop him. She was stunned, disbelieving. She couldn’t have heard him right. Harry couldn’t be dead.
‘It is not your fault, sir. I can hardly believe – my husband murdered. Harry is dead? How do you know it was murder?’
‘He was shot more than once. It happened near that little cottage at the edge of your brother’s estate.’
‘Why on earth would Harry be there? It doesn’t make sense. When he left me he said that he was going home to look after my mother.’
‘Was your husband riding a horse, Mrs Rushden?’
‘Yes, I am certain he was – why?’
‘There were signs that a horse had been near the body but it was not there and the constable seemed to believe the motive would have been robbery.’
‘The constable? Did he find Harry?’
‘I discovered your husband early this morning. I had been sitting up with a dying parishioner all night and was returning home when I saw him lying there. I summoned help and your husband’s body has been taken to a safe place for further investigation. The constable called to see me because he wondered where you were and I was able to tell him that you had been staying here. I asked if he would allow me to break the news. He will call to see you later, either today or perhaps tomorrow.’
Roz’s head was whirling.
‘I don’t understand why anyone would want to murder Harry.’
‘He had no enemies?’
‘None that I knew of. He was in business but I believe most people liked him.’
‘Then I dare say the constable was right and it was a violent assault with intent to rob.’
‘Yes.’ Roz put a hand to her face. ‘Poor Harry. We should have been at home celebrating Christmas but I insisted on staying with Julia.’
‘You could not have known what would happen. As you say, he ought to have been on his way home.’
Roz felt tears trickle down her cheeks. She wasn’t in love with Harry but she cared for him. To think of him being murdered was so terrible that she could hardly bear it. Standing up, she managed to thank the vicar and make some excuse. She needed to be alone to think.
Alone in her room, Roz sank down on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands. Harry was dead – murdered. Why? What had happened and why was he near the old cottage?
Silent, hurtful tears ran down her cheeks. Only last night Harry had been here promising to take care of Roz’s mother and saying they would keep Christmas for when Julia recovered.
Roz went cold all over. Had Harry gone after Philip, intending to give him a thrashing? They might have quarrelled and . . . her thoughts came to an abrupt halt. She was sure that Philip had killed Carrie Blake – but was he so evil that he would have killed Harry? Harry’s murder was hard enough to bear. If his murderer turned out to be Philip . . . it was too terrible to contemplate.
Roz would say nothing of her suspicions or fears to the constable when he visited her. She had no proof and it was up to the authorities to discover who had done this wicked thing.
‘I’m so very sorry, Harry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry you’re dead. Sorry that I never loved you as you deserved. I’m sorry for everything.’
Roz’s throat was tight with emotion as the tears flowed. Harry had been so proud of the fact that she was to have a child – and she did not know whether it was his or Tom Blake’s. For a moment the unworthy thought that she was now free came to her but she dismissed it instantly. Harry was not even buried and he had been good to her in his way. Besides, Tom was married and the whole idea of a relationship between them was impossible.
Roz got up and washed her face. She was not sure what happened in a situation like this, but eventually the authorities would release Harry’s body and she must arrange for his funeral when that time came. Until then, she would stay here with Julia. She could not face returning to Harry’s house alone just yet.
Julia was sitting up against a pile of pillows and it was obvious she had been crying.
‘Roz, dearest,’ she said and held out her hand. ‘Mama just told me. I am so very sorry. It must be terrible for you – and such a strain keeping it from me.’
‘Mama should not have told you. I begged her not to just yet.’
‘She was upset and I asked why.’ Julia took her hand. ‘I am so very sorry, dearest. Have they told you anything? Do they know who might be responsible?’
‘The constable asked me if Harry had any enemies but I was unable to help him. I knew he had business associates but as far as I am aware everyone liked him.’
‘I am sure Harry was well liked. He was a kind, generous man – and he loved you. You will miss him, Roz.’
‘Yes, I do miss him already. You must know that it was not a love affair. I married him for a home of my own, Julia – but I did care and I would not have had this happen for the world.’
‘Of course you would not. Do you know why he was near that cottage?’
‘No – unless . . .’ Roz shook her head. ‘He might have been looking for Philip that night. Harry thought he should be here with you.’
‘I wondered if that might be the case. It isn’t like Philip to stay away so long, Roz. You don’t think that . . .’ Her words tailed off, her eyes dark with distress. ‘Philip wouldn’t . . . would he?’
‘No, I’m sure he wouldn’t,’ Roz said. ‘I dare say he is feeling out of sorts and ashamed to come home after what happened on Christmas Day. If Philip hadn’t insisted that you go downstairs . . . but there’s no use pointing the finger. What happened, happened.’
‘I know . . .’ Julia caught back a sob. ‘I love him, Roz. I know he is selfish and careless but I do love him.’
‘Yes, and I love you, which means that even if I thought Philip might have done something terrible I should not give the constable any
assistance in coming to that conclusion.’
‘Oh, Roz . . .’ Julia wiped her cheek as the tears rolled silently down her face. ‘We aren’t very lucky, are we?’
‘We still have each other.’
‘Yes.’ Julia hesitated. ‘Have they told you when the funeral will be?’
‘Harry’s body has been taken to a chapel of rest and I may visit there. I can arrange things as soon as I wish.’
‘Does that mean you have to go home?’
‘I suppose I ought,’ Roz said. ‘Mama is torn between staying here with you and coming with me. I told her she ought to be with you. I shall be perfectly all right.’
‘Could you not stay here – have the funeral from here?’
‘I think that might offend his family. Harry’s cousin visited me earlier this morning and offered to make the arrangements. I was grateful and left everything to him. I must have the reception at Harry’s home but afterwards – well, I am not certain. I may be homeless.’
‘Surely Harry would not leave the house to someone else?’
‘He has a cousin but as yet no son. I would not expect more than my jointure. I dare say there may be a house for me somewhere.’
‘If you cannot stay there you must come to us, Roz.’
‘If it were just you, Julia, I should be happy to live here – but not with Philip.’
‘I understand.’
‘I think perhaps I shall send for the carriage and return to Harry’s house this afternoon.’
‘You are so strong. If I were more like you perhaps Philip would respect me.’
‘Philip is a fool and should I see him I shall tell him so.’
‘Please do not,’ Julia said and smiled. ‘If I am well enough in a day or so I shall come and stay with you, Roz.’
‘Please, do as the doctor advises,’ Roz begged. ‘I want you to be well again.’
Sixteen
It was bitterly cold in the church and people spoke of snow before morning. Harry Rushden had been respected and there was hardly a space to be seen as villagers, farmers and country gentry crowded in to hear and join in the service. Roz had Julia on one side of her, Harry’s cousin Keith Rushden and her mother to the other. When the vicar intoned his eulogy, Julia took Roz’s hand and held it. Hymns and prayers followed and then the family went outside to witness the internment.
Roz scattered earth and then threw a posy of Christmas roses on to Harry’s coffin. Turning away, she saw Tom Blake standing at a respectful distance. For a moment their eyes met, then he bowed his head to her. Roz gave no sign that she had noticed. She was feeling numbed, unable to think clearly as she walked from the churchyard and allowed Harry’s cousin to help her into the carriage.
‘It is the custom to read the will after the funeral,’ Keith Rushden said. ‘However, if you wish we can wait for a few days. There is no hurry, Roz.’
‘I am able to bear it,’ she said. ‘You have been very kind. I am grateful to you for all your help.’
‘Harry adored you,’ he said. ‘He told me he never thought he would get you. I don’t know why you married him, but he would expect me to take care of business for you.’
‘Thank you.’
The reception was tedious. Roz listened to condolences, made the appropriate replies and thanked everyone for coming. She was glad when the last of her neighbours left. Now there was only her mother, Julia and Harry’s cousin – and the lawyer, who had come from Wisbech for the occasion.
They retired to the small parlour for the reading. Julia sat by Roz’s side and Keith stood by the window, his back turned as he listened to the lawyer’s words.
‘Mr Harold Rushden was a man of substantial means,’ he said. ‘He added a codicil to his will quite recently. Mrs Rushden is to receive the settlement as drawn up in her marriage contract, which is the sum of five thousand pounds plus three thousand a year for life. She is also to have the tenancy of any available house of her choosing on the estate. The residue of the estate is left to Mr Rushden’s son, if he should have one. If he should fail in this respect, a daughter is to receive ten thousand pounds when she reaches the age of one and twenty. Mrs Rushden is to live in the house until such time as her child is born. If the child is a son she will be his guardian with the help and guidance of Mr Keith Rushden; if a daughter, the remainder of the estate then passes to Mr Keith Rushden.’
He paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in. Julia reached for Roz’s hand and held it tightly.
‘The codicil added recently is in respect of a house in London that Mr Rushden has just purchased. This will pass to his wife with a capital sum of a further five thousand pounds for its upkeep. There are various small bequests to servants but that is the main body of the will.’
‘Well,’ Lady Thornton said, her mouth twisted sourly. ‘The London house makes things a little fairer for my daughter, sir, but she ought to have had something more. Mr Rushden assured me that she would be wealthy if she married him and this is shabby. I dare say he had more than two hundred thousand pounds.’
‘Mama!’ Roz said sharply. ‘I am quite satisfied with Harry’s decision. I should not expect to inherit the estate – and it passes to my son if I have one.’
‘I’m sorry, Roz,’ Keith said and looked at her apologetically. ‘I agree that Harry could have left you more.’
‘I may have a son,’ Roz said and stood up. She offered her hand to the lawyer. ‘I am quite content with my portion, sir. I did not marry for wealth and I shall abide by the terms of Harry’s will.’
‘My cousin asked me to look after you if something should happen to you. You will never want for anything – whether I inherit or not.’ Keith moved towards her, offering his hand, which she took. ‘You must know I admire you, Roz. It will be my privilege to help you in any way I can.’
‘You are everything that is generous, just as Harry was,’ Roz replied with dignity. ‘This has been a long day. If you will all excuse me, I shall go to my room. Mr Rushden, you are welcome to call another day. Julia, perhaps you will come with me? Mama, please see that Mr Rushden and the lawyer have all they need.’
Roz left the room before her mother could protest. Julia came after her and took her arm. Roz smiled as she saw the question in her eyes.
‘I expected something of the sort,’ she said. ‘Harry was rich and we had not been married long.’
‘Perhaps you will have a son.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ Roz drew her inside the bedroom and they sat on the edge of the bed together. ‘I wanted to talk to you alone. You have heard nothing of Philip?’
‘Nothing. Should I report him as missing, Roz? Your mama is worried but we thought it best to wait until today was over.’
‘I wondered if he might be staying with Madeline and her husband.’
‘Surely if he knew that your husband had died he would have come home, Roz?’
‘Would he? We have not been on the best of terms recently.’
‘I am afraid that he has done something foolish.’
‘Yes, I am beginning to think he may have done.’ Roz sighed. ‘I think you should write to Sir Raymond and ask if Philip is staying with him – or would you like me to do it for you?’
‘Would you? I hardly know them and I do not like either of them very much.’
‘Yes, of course I will. It would be much better if I wrote. You would not wish Philip to think you were spying on him.’
‘You understand me so well. What will you do now, Roz? I heard what the lawyer said – but it makes things awkward for you. Until the child is born you do not know whether this is to be your home.’
‘I shall remain here for a while. I need to think about the future, Julia. If the estate is my son’s I may have to continue to live here at least part of the time for his sake. He should know his home and learn about the estate, but I might prefer to live elsewhere.’
‘In London?’
‘I think perhaps a house in the country or a small town might suit me
better, but I can make no plans as yet.’
‘I should miss you if you went away.’
‘I should never desert you. We are friends, Julia – but you are right, it is an awkward situation. I do not think I truly wish to live in this house. However, we must see what the future brings.’
‘Yes, of course. Forgive me. It is too soon.’
‘Had Harry died of an illness it would have been easier but I feel . . . as if a shadow hangs over me. The constable says they have found no evidence other than that Harry’s pockets had been emptied and his horse was missing.’
‘It is shocking to have such a burden,’ Julia said. ‘I keep thinking . . . no, I cannot believe it. It’s just that he has been away so long. Philip would never do such a wicked thing, would he? He had no reason – did he? Please tell me if there is something I should know.’
Roz hesitated, but what good could come from telling Julia the truth now?
‘Do not torture yourself, Julia. I am sure there will be an explanation for his absence in time.’
‘Yes, of course. I am going to leave you to rest now, Roz. Otherwise your mama will come looking for us and I do not think you need that at the moment.’
‘Thank you for protecting me,’ Roz said. ‘She wishes to move in here but I do not think I could bear that, which is very unkind of me.’
‘Mama is difficult at times but I do not mind her fussing.’ Julia laughed softly. ‘Lie down and rest. We do not want you to become ill and lose your child.’
‘Oh, Julia,’ Roz said. ‘I wish I could turn back the clock.’
‘We can none of us do that,’ Julia said and went out.
Roz lay back against the pillows. She felt exhausted and needed to rest. All the images of the past few days kept going through her mind. Not least the look in Keith Rushden’s eyes as he’d promised to look after her. She did not know what was in his mind but she was not interested in his attentions.
Tom Blake had come to the funeral. There had been a wealth of meaning in his look. Roz felt a familiar sense of loss wash over her. Tom had a wife and responsibilities. He could never leave his family or his land and she could not step into his world even if he could.
