We completed the picture between us, exchanging the pencil from time to time. I found it quite disturbing to find him standing so close with the front of his coat brushing against my back and his sleeve against my arm. There was an occasional, unavoidable contact of fingers.
‘I think that will do very well,’ he said at last, moving away. ‘So we have a record of the scene as it was when you saw it this morning. Now, there are one or two other things which require your assistance. Could you pick up the pistol-box and put it on the table over here? Thank you – now close the lid.’
He produced a piece of cord from his pocket with two keys hanging from it.
‘My friend Rushworth wore this round his neck. What with his beard and the cowl of his habit it would have been quite hidden. One key is to the trunk; the other, smaller one, to the pistol box. Let us try it in the lock.’ He attempted to turn the key.
‘As I thought, it doesn’t fit. I can’t say I ever observed the box very closely, but I felt sure this was different, and so it is.’
‘But who would change the pistol box?’
‘And the pistols. Whoever shot him.’
‘You really think he was murdered?’ There seemed to me a vast chasm between disbelieving someone had committed suicide and actually suspecting murder.
‘Yes, and there’s more than one reason, but not enough to achieve such a verdict at an inquest. I mentioned my suspicions to the coroner but he was rather dismissive.’
‘But why do you suppose he was shot by someone else?’
‘Firstly, my friend was right-handed yet the bullet entered the left temple and the pistol lay near his left hand. Secondly, he once told me he had attempted suicide but couldn’t do it. He had placed the muzzle of the pistol in his mouth but could not bring himself to pull the trigger. That is the only sure way to do it. Let me show you.’
He opened the box, took out the remaining pistol, checked to make sure it was unloaded and then held it to his head. ‘Quite heavy and awkward to hold steadily like this. The other way would be used by someone accustomed to firearms as he was.’
‘But I can’t understand why anyone would want to change the pistols.’
‘For speed, simplicity and certainty. The cell was left open and there was no lock on the door. Anyone could have entered and examined the contents as I believe you did, unwillingly, with Rowland Webb. The murderer saw the pistols and then planned for his victim’s apparent suicide. If he had used Rushworth’s own pistols he would have had to unlock the box but he had no key and did not know where it was. If he had forced the lock it might have aroused suspicion. Besides, he would still have had to load the pistol by lantern, light which is not easy. I think he drugged the wine so that his victim was in a deep sleep but he still had to act quickly. It would have been much easier to buy another box of pistols, as much like the original as possible, load the gun in daylight at his leisure—’
‘The shots I heard that Sir Ralph said were gamekeepers—’
‘He was trying them out. Then he reloaded – came down here a few nights later in the early hours of the morning – found poor Rushworth unconscious – shot him through the head as he slept on his right side and arranged his body to look as though he had done the deed himself. Then he carried Rushworth’s box to the lake and disposed of it. Now, I’ve noticed the absence of any wine bottle so I can only assume it was thrown away at the same time as the box.’
‘But how could anyone be sure of finding a box of pistols similar to the ones the hermit owned?’
‘Easy enough, I imagine. Many half-pay officers will have sold their pistols. I’ve no doubt they can be purchased at any gunsmith’s. They are all much the same. Richer officers sometimes had various embellishments but most were perfectly plain. I never saw Rushworth’s firearms – only the box and that was as nondescript as this one you see here. He had removed the brass plate with his initials; the same has been done to this box, you’ll notice, but I’d swear the plate here was bigger.’
He sighed. ‘I can’t prove anything, of course. I’ve no doubt the verdict will be suicide and the poor fellow deserves better. This was a miserable, shabby way to die and the villain must be brought to justice somehow.’
‘Do you think the murderer bought the pistols locally? If so, might it be worth visiting gunsmiths in neighbouring towns?’
‘Indeed it might. That’s a very good idea and well worth pursuing.’
I picked up the copy of Goldsmith’s Poems which lay on the table and this time I looked inside the front cover. As I thought, it bore the name of Elinor Denby.
‘Would it be in order for me to take this back to Elinor? It is her property and I can’t see it has any bearing on what has happened.’
‘Yes, I’m sure that’s all right. You know, another thing has occurred to me. Most suicides leave letters to their family and friends – at the very least a scribbled note. I’m sure Rushworth was no exception.’
‘There is one matter above all that I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘I suppose anyone could come here to commit the crime, but why? What could possibly be the reason for killing so harmless a man? He hurt no one and he had nothing.’
‘Even so, there could be a motive – there always is. Rushworth had a past – another life before he came here. Anyway, now we have done all we can in this place I must go and see what is happening in the laundry. I’ll make sure the hermitage is guarded and Sir Ralph is arranging to have a chain and padlock fitted to the door.’
‘Would it be worth looking in the trunk?’ I asked.
‘I was going to leave that until later, but as I have you here and you are willing to help….’
The trunk held little of interest. There was a dressing-case containing shaving tackle – not that he needed any at Lovegrove – clothes, boots, brushes and combs. At any time he could have shaved off his beard, cut his hair and dressed normally. I suggested that he had not entirely given up the hope of returning to everyday life.
‘That may be so,’ said Colonel Hartley, ‘but he never mentioned it to me.’
Matters became more interesting when we discovered a false bottom to the trunk, which, when lifted out, revealed a bundle of papers tied with tape and closely covered with writing. I handed them to the Colonel, who said, after a hasty glance, that they seemed to be a detailed account of Rushworth’s part in the escape of the French garrison.
There was also a small watercolour of a handsome country house and a miniature of a dark-eyed young woman with a lock of hair in the back, several bundles of letters and documents, a leather wallet containing banknotes and a purse full of money including guineas.
‘I wonder who the girl was?’ I said.
‘The love of his life, I believe. She married someone else while he was in Spain.’
I reflected that I would have waited years for Harry and at once dismissed the unknown woman as shallow and flighty. But of course, I did not know the circumstances.
‘Here’s his last will and testament,’ I said, handing the document to my companion.
‘Made about a year ago and witnessed by two of the gardeners. He leaves all his personal possessions to me – not that they amount to much – but he expresses the wish that I might eventually have printed the vindication of his conduct in the war.’
‘You said he had an uncle.’
‘Yes, in Devonshire. That little watercolour must be a picture of the house. He would have inherited everything eventually. I must write to the old man – even though the two hadn’t met for years it will still be a shock.’
I collected all the items in the bottom of the trunk together and, having found the basket in which I had made my offering of fruit, put them neatly inside, covering everything with one of Brother Caspar’s handkerchiefs.
‘This will be easier to carry,’ I said. ‘I presume you don’t want these things to be left here for others to find.’
‘No, certainly not. You are remarkably thoughtful. I am glad you were here with
me and not the coroner or Dr Stringer or the village constable – even Sam Bates. You understand.’
I thought he seemed moved; the calm, controlled demeanour cracked a little as he struggled to control emotion. ‘Poor, unhappy soul!’ he said. ‘If he was going to die I wish to God it had happened in battle. This was unworthy of him.’
‘At least he found peace here,’ I said quietly after a pause, ‘and I’m sure your friendship meant a great deal to him.’
‘I hope so.’ He seemed to master himself and gave me a quick smile. ‘We must not waste time. There is one last thing I wanted to ask you. I would not presume to question Miss Denby concerning her discovery of the body. Anyway, I doubt if we could learn anything from it. I gather she is very distressed?’
‘Greatly so but she seemed ready enough to confide in me. I was going to see her again as no one else seems to bother with her, so if you’d like me to talk to her—’
‘If you don’t mind. I find it strange that a young girl would enter a man’s room like that. Are you sure she didn’t know poor Rushworth a little better than her family supposed?’
‘You have made an astute guess. She unburdened herself to me and I promised not to tell but as you’ve worked it out for yourself I must admit you are right. It was a friendship; no more than that, I am sure.’
‘Of course, Rushworth would never have taken advantage of an innocent girl. See if you can find out if he had said anything that might indicate a threat to his life or if he saw some stranger in the park. Perhaps she noticed a particular depression of spirits or signs of anxiety – anything of that sort.’
I nodded and we left the cell.
Outside we found Sophie waiting impatiently and the village constable hovering discreetly at a distance, talking to Sam Bates.
‘At last!’ cried Sophie. ‘I finished my sketch ages ago. Here.’ She handed it to Colonel Hartley. ‘It’s not as good as Aunt Charlotte’s, I’m sure, but at least you can tell what it’s supposed to be.’
‘It’s excellent – just what’s needed. Thank you, Miss Tyler Junior. It only needs Miss Tyler Senior to mark on it where the bottle of wine was found and it is all complete.’
I think he expected me to put a cross but I added a tiny drawing of a bottle. He laughed and thanked me and went off to the laundry to see what was going on.
Sophie watched him walk away. ‘I think that when I eventually marry I’d like it to be someone like Colonel Hartley. Younger, of course, and with both arms.’
‘I will keep a lookout for his double,’ I promised her, ‘though I doubt if we’ll find it.’
‘You were in the cell a very long time. What were you doing?’
‘I made a sketch and we looked at the pistol box,’
‘Ah, that must have been the locked box that puzzled me.’
‘And we went through the hermit’s trunk. Nothing of extraordinary interest – clothes, mainly, and bundles of papers which are in that basket that the Colonel gave to Sam Bates.’
‘Is that all?’ Sophie looked quizzical.
‘What else could there be?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m sure if I’d been shut in there with Rowland he’d have attempted to take liberties.’
‘I’ve no doubt he would and I trust you’d give him no such opportunity. But then, Colonel Hartley is a gentleman and I’m afraid Rowland, for all his swagger, is not.’
As we made our way back to our bench I told Sophie I intended to visit Elinor again before dinner.
‘Would you like me to come with you?’
‘No, I think it would be better if I saw her alone. She’s more inclined to confide in me if no one else is there, I’m sure you understand.’
Sophie nodded. ‘She’s such a strange girl, I’m still not sure if I like her or not. I feel sorry for her having to put up with that awful stepmother and her horrid friend. Sir Ralph is pleasant enough but he doesn’t do anything to help.’
‘Ah, that brings me to the question I was going to ask you. What would you say to asking Elinor to come back to stay with us for a few weeks? I’m sure it would do her the world of good and I think she’d open out a little in sympathetic company. We might even be able to do something about her clothes and hair.’
‘I think that’s a lovely idea,’ said Sophie generously.
‘You are a dear, good girl and you deserve the best husband in the world!’
Later in the day, I went, as promised, to see Elinor, who looked quite dreadful, with red, swollen eyes. She was surrounded by crumpled handkerchiefs and her hair hung in damp strands round her tear-stained face. She had slept, however, and still seemed slightly dazed, but at least she was not sobbing and spoke coherently.
I talked to her for a long time, dropping questions in randomly so that it would not appear like an interrogation. At the end I knew little more. She could tell me only that Brother Caspar had never mentioned having any enemies and had seemed no more depressed when she last saw him than at any other time. As for strangers …
‘Well,’ she said, uncertainly, ‘I did see a strange woman, rather fashionably dressed in a vulgar sort of way. I don’t think it was anything to do with Caspar. He saw her and asked me if I knew who she was but I didn’t recognize her. Anyway, I didn’t see her face properly though she seemed quite young.’
‘When was this?’
‘About a fortnight ago.’
‘I suppose it could have been someone coming to see one of the servants.’
‘That’s what I thought, but – she looked troubled.’
‘Has it anything to do with what happened at the Unicorn? You went back for your reticule and when you returned I thought you’d had a shock.’
‘I had – but I can’t tell you at present. It will all come out eventually but I really can’t cope with any more today.’
‘Then let’s leave it for now. Here’s that Goldsmith you lent to Brother Caspar; I thought you’d like to have it back. It was lying on his table.’
She clutched it to her bosom like some precious relic and shed a few tears. When she was quieter I revealed my plan for taking her back with us to Fairfield.
She was transformed. ‘Oh yes, that would be so lovely! Are you sure I’d be welcome?’
‘Of course you would! Sophie would be glad to have a companion of her own age.’ I thought this slight exaggeration was permissible in the circumstances. ‘I have yet to ask my brother,’ I continued, ‘but if Sophie and I wanted to invite Napoleon Bonaparte for a stay he’d be quite agreeable. We must ask your father too, of course, but I’m sure he’ll consent.’
‘Oh yes, and the others will be glad to get rid of me.’
‘I think you may need a change of scene. This house is rather gloomy for someone in low spirits.’
‘It isn’t the house, it’s the people.’
‘I think I know what you mean. Have courage, this is the very worst. At least you’ll find a pleasanter atmosphere at Fairfield.’
‘I know I shall, if you can put up with me.’
‘You must not have such a low opinion of yourself. Sophie and I only want you to be our friend and my brother is the kindest man in the world.’
She began crying again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The atmosphere in the house at dinner was unpleasantly tense; with a corpse in the laundry and an inquest pending, it could scarcely be anything else. Amelia Denby and Louisa Thorpe seemed to have made up their quarrel and appeared particularly – indeed, nauseatingly – affectionate and gushing. It was ‘dearest Louisa’ and ‘kindest Amelia’.
George was unusually quiet and gloomy. I had not expected him to be so affected by the tragedy but I soon discovered that his silence and melancholy rose from quite another reason. Elinor was not present, which did not surprise me, and Rowland was also missing but Frank Lawrence had turned up and was trying to improve the air of dejection that engulfed the table.
‘A good ride or a walk in the fresh air is the best thing in the world for r
aising the spirits,’ he declared. ‘I went as far as Ashdale and back and had something to eat at the Unicorn at about one. I saw Rowland in the town; I think he had the same idea. After all, there was nothing we could do to help.’
‘Some people made themselves useful by all accounts,’ said Louisa Thorpe vindictively, looking in my direction. ‘Miss Tyler has been helping Colonel Hartley search the hermit’s cell. What else she helped him with I don’t know.’
I said nothing, fearful of an angry outburst that I would regret later.
‘He asked my sister to help because she can be relied on,’ said George, ‘which is more than can be said for most women.’
‘Extraordinary!’ boomed Lady Denby. ‘The whole sex is condemned out of hand. Really, Cousin George, I must say that either you exaggerate or your personal experience has been unfortunate.’
‘You could say that,’ murmured George, reddening slightly.
‘This conversation is galloping towards a precipice,’ said Frank cheerfully. ‘Let’s try a different horse. Where’s Elinor?’
‘In her room,’ said Sir Ralph. ‘The poor girl’s nerves are quite shattered. It was she who discovered the body after all.’
‘Yes,’ said his wife with a puzzled expression, ‘we still don’t know how that came about. What was she doing entering my hermit’s cell?’
‘She saw he hadn’t touched his bread and milk and thought he might be ill,’ said Sir Ralph.
‘Then it was a most improper course of action,’ declared Lady Denby. ‘Heaven knows what she might have found.’
‘I should think finding someone shot through the head is bad enough,’ I said.
Lady Denby ignored me. ‘Why didn’t she go back to the house and send one of the menservants to investigate?’
‘She acted on impulse,’ I said. ‘Girls of her age do. She was concerned.’
‘I don’t see why she should be,’ her ladyship remained unconvinced. ‘What was the hermit to her?’
That proved a little too close for comfort but Sir Ralph defended his daughter. ‘She’s a kind-hearted girl,’ he said. ‘You don’t always give her credit for her good qualities.’
The Lovegrove Hermit Page 8
