172443.fb2 Death and the Black Pyramid - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 5

Death and the Black Pyramid - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 5

Five

The ride from Exeter to Sidmouth came back to John with horrible clarity the next morning as he and Elizabeth set off to visit Lady Sidmouth, travelling in her second-best carriage. He recalled the scrubland where long ago on his honeymoon he had seen a headless coachman driving a coach full of phantoms. This had later turned out to be a sinister deception but it had shaken him and frightened Emilia at the time. And because of those memories he was glad to leave that particular piece of coutryside and emerge onto the wooded headland that led down to the sea.

The bay of Sidmouth was surrounded on either side by land that protruded into the water. As one faced the ocean a long green promontory stuck out like a finger to the right. But the left-hand side was dominated by red cliffs, above which lay green pastures and in the midst of these was set the home of the redoubtable Lady Sidmouth. As the carriage turned into the drive John could see the house and put it down as having been built in the reign of Queen Anne.

It was of mellow red brick and in a niche above the front door stood a life-size statue of Demeter. The rest of the building flowed round this central point in becoming lines and the Apothecary found himself liking the harmonious whole enormously. The coachman dropped them at the main entrance and drove round to the stables on the right, while Elizabeth pealed the bell. John stood back and was astonished when the door was answered by a little woman wearing an apron.

‘Wretched footmen,’ she said by way of greeting. ‘Never around when they are needed. Come in, my dear, come in. And who is your friend?’

‘Lady Sidmouth, may I present John Rawlings to you. John, this is Lady Sidmouth.’

John bowed handsomely, then kissed the lady’s hand.

‘My goodness,’ she said, ‘what an elegant young man. Pray follow me.’

They did so, entering a large hallway and proceeding from there through a series of rooms until they came to one at the end of the house that overlooked the sea. John stared out of the large window to the undulating swell below him and remembered distant times that had been so full of joy.

He turned round to see that Lady Sidmouth was ushering him towards a seat.

‘Come and sit opposite me, Mr Rawlings. I wish to look at you.’

She was one of the most extraordinary women that John had ever seen. She had very large upper lids which closed half her eye, revealing a pair of dark brown orbs beneath, which glinted like those of a harvest mouse. But this was not her most peculiar feature, for Lady Sidmouth appeared to have no lips at all. The Apothecary had never seen such a tiny and inverted mouth. When she spoke she did so without moving it and he peered to see if she had any teeth, and was rewarded with a glimpse of minute white seeds. To crown it all she had wispy brown hair which she had screwed up into a bun beneath a very ordinary work a day mob-cap.

‘Well now, I think it is time for a little sherry, don’t you?’ And without waiting for a reply she rang a small bell that stood on a table. She turned her attention to Elizabeth. ‘And tell me, my dear, how are you getting on?’

The Marchesa shot her an amused glance and said, ‘I am enceinte, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

Lady Sidmouth did not turn a hair. Instead she asked, ‘And who is the father, may I ask?’

‘I am,’ John answered. ‘And in case you are wondering I have repeatedly asked Elizabeth to marry me but she will have none of it.’

‘Very wise too. My husband gave me ten children, ranging in ages from thirty to eleven, and then he died. Worn out I expect.’

John looked at her with new interest. She might be a peculiar-looking little creature but she was as outspoken as the Marchesa herself.

‘Very probably,’ he said, and smiled, at which Lady Sidmouth threw her apron over her face and laughed long and loud.

A footman entered the room and seemed to take the situation entirely as normal. ‘You rang, my Lady?’ he said, remaining utterly straight-faced.

‘Of course I did, Hopkins. Who else would have done it? Can you bring a decanter of the dry sherry and three glasses, please? Oh, and some of those sweet little biscuits that I like.’

‘Very good, my Lady.’

A memory was stirring in John’s mind, of a Robin Sidmouth he had once met in Bath. He turned to his hostess.

‘Do you by any chance know a Robin Sidmouth? I met him once, some years ago.’

‘Of course I know him. He’s my eldest son. He’s inherited the title now his father is dead.’

John turned to Elizabeth, who said, ‘The Earl of Sidmouth. That’s Robin.’

The Apothecary, who had always wondered about Robin’s doubtful sexuality, asked, ‘Is he married?’

‘Of course,’ his mother snorted, ‘to a dull, lifeless girl called Maud. They’ve been wed two years and have had two children. Mind you he went kicking and screaming to the altar. I’ve always thought he was a Miss Molly myself.’

John, remembering, said, ‘Who knows?’

To which she replied, ‘Pish. I should have thought it perfectly obvious.’

Lady Sidmouth poured out the sherry and handed round the plate of biscuits which Hopkins had placed before her. ‘You must excuse my wearing an apron,’ she said. ‘Fact is I’ve been in the kitchen making plum jam. Our fruit trees were laden this year.’ She fixed a piercing glance on Elizabeth. ‘Was there another reason for your coming to see me? Or was it merely to announce that you were with child?’

‘No, there was another reason, my dear Dorothy. My friend John travelled down in a stagecoach with two people whom you are currently employing. One was a dancing master, the other a milliner. You know of whom I speak?’

‘Yes, I know them very well. One is Simms, getting on in years but none the less a fine master of the Terpsichorean art. The other is Lovell, a dark-complexioned girl but for all that something of a beauty. They are both currently under my roof.’ She turned to John, her tiny eyes gleaming with curiosity. ‘Why do you want to know?’

The Apothecary hesitated, wondering whether or not to tell her about the murder of William Gorringe. He decided to be truthful only after another glance at her assured him that she would ferret the facts out of him one way or the other.

‘Actually, a fellow passenger was murdered in the inn on the night before last. Jemima Lovell knew of it but Mr Simms did not. I wondered whether he should be informed before the Constable comes calling.’

‘Will he come calling?’ Lady Sidmouth responded.

‘He might well. The hunt is on to find the missing passengers.’

‘Then go and talk to him, Mr Rawlings. He is teaching even while we speak. You will find him in the ballroom. Hopkins can show you where it is.’ And she rang the bell again.

But as he mounted the stairs behind Hopkins’s stoutly stockinged legs the Apothecary thought that he had small need of directions. For from a room on the first floor there came a great deal of noise — cries of ‘No, no. Do it like this,’ followed by the strains of a frantic violin and a great deal of heavy-footed thumping. With a majestic gesture Hopkins threw open the door and John gazed within.

Children of assorted ages and sizes — a dozen of them — were ranged in ranks before a red-faced Cuthbert Simms, who had the traditional violin tucked beneath his chin and was presently haranguing them about not getting a step correctly. Eager young virgins of seventeen languished at the back while in the front were younger sprigs, one in particular looking horribly like Robin Sidmouth, all pouting mouth and high heels.

John stepped into the ballroom and every head turned in his direction. The dancing lesson ground to a halt.

‘Mr Rawlings,’ said Cuthbert in tones of great surprise. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’

‘I have come to speak to you, actually.’

‘Very well. Ladies and gentlemen, you may take a short break during which you will practice the steps I have been endeavouring to teach you this morning.’

There were various squeals of protest but Cuthbert looked firm and clapped his hands, after which there were one or two half-hearted attempts made to obey his instructions.

‘Well, my dear Sir,’ he said, drawing John to one side. ‘This is most certainly a surprise.’

‘Indeed it is, Sir. But truth to tell there was a fatality at The Half Moon which had not been discovered at the time you left. I thought it only fair to warn you that the Constable might come to interview you.’

‘Me?’ exclaimed Cuthbert. ‘Whatever for? I know nothing about it. What fatality?’

‘William Gorringe was murdered in his bed during the night,’ answered John, looking mild and honest — an expression he had been working on for some time.

‘Gorringe, you say? Oh dear me, whoever could have done that I wonder?’

He turned away, wiping his sweating face with a large handkerchief and John could see that even the back of Cuthbert’s neck had turned bright red.

‘I’ve no idea. The matter is — as I said — in the hands of the Constable. We shall have to await developments.’

The dancing master was clearly flustered because he clapped his hands together and said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, you may have the rest of this morning off. I shall see you here at two o’clock sharply.’

There was a loud shout of delight and a charge towards the door. Cuthbert sighed. ‘No matter how hard I try they behave like little hoydens.’

‘Boys will be boys, I suppose,’ John answered cheerfully. His gaze fell on two young ladies walking neatly towards the exit. ‘Now that couple do you credit. Who are they?’

‘The Lady Felicity Sidmouth — the Earl’s sister. And the Honourable Miranda Tremayne. She’s some sort of cousin and stays here as a guest.’

‘I see.’

As they drew level the pair dropped neat bobs and John made an effusive bow in return. Miranda gave him a saucy glance and as she went through the door turned to look at him over her shoulder.

‘My goodness, she’s going to grow up a beauty.’

‘She already is,’ sighed Cuthbert. ‘She has half the young men in the county calling on her. She is also my favourite pupil, being anxious to learn every dance there is.’

He was clearly relaxing now that the subject of Gorringe had been dropped but John felt it was his duty to persevere.

‘Did you know William Gorringe before the journey to Exeter?’ he asked casually.

The colour swept back into Cuthbert’s cheeks and he answered very swiftly, ‘No. No indeed. The man was a complete stranger to me until we met on the coach.’

He was just a little too emphatic John thought. But he felt he could question the dancing master no further. He got up from the chair to which Cuthbert had motioned him.

‘Well, my friend, I’ll bid you adieu. I just thought I ought to warn you before the Constable descends on you.’

He watched the little man suddenly drain of colour. ‘When will that be, do you know?’

John shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that I have no idea. But come I think he will.’

‘Well, I can tell him nothing,’ Cuthbert answered, and turned away.

John found the ladies in the kitchens, stirring large saucepans of jam. They looked up as he entered the room.

‘Ah, there you are,’ said Elizabeth, gesturing with her wooden spoon.

John leaned over to sniff the jam. ‘Smells good.’ He straightened and looked at Lady Sidmouth. ‘Would it be too much trouble to have a word with Miss Lovell?’

‘The dark beauty? Yes, by all means. She is upstairs in the sewing room. I’ll take you to her myself.’

‘And I’ll go too,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I must have a look at this wondrous creature.’

I do believe she’s jealous, thought John, and was intensely pleased with himself.

They went up the main staircase then ascended the wooden spiral used by the servants to get to the top floor. And it was here, sitting in a room that could easily become dark on a gloomy day, that Jemima Lovell sat, accompanied by a girl of about fourteen who was stitching a pile of shirts of varying sizes. Jemima looked up as the trio entered. She got to her feet and gave a hasty curtsey, while the girl did likewise.

‘Lady Sidmouth, how nice to see you.’ Her eyes widened. ‘And Mr Rawlings. How do you do, sir?’

Elizabeth spoke up. ‘What is that you are working on, my dear?’

‘A headdress, Ma’am.’ And Jemima passed it to Elizabeth, carefully removing the needle before she did so.

‘Why, it’s beautiful. What a clever girl you are. Where did you find her, Dorothy?’

John’s conviction that Elizabeth was green about the eye redoubled.

Lady Sidmouth snorted. ‘In London, of course. The place that you shun, my girl.’

‘I prefer the country, it’s true.’ She turned her attention to Jemima. ‘And whereabouts do you work, my dear?’

‘In Greek Street, Ma’am. At Madame Sophie’s. She is French and came over with the Huguenots. Or at least her family did.’

Elizabeth gave a deep sigh. ‘I obviously miss much by keeping myself away from the capital.’

‘I can lend her to you,’ said Lady Sidmouth, somewhat patronizingly.

‘I don’t think that will be possible, Lady Sidmouth,’ Jemima answered, sweet but firm. ‘Madame Sophie is expecting me back in two weeks and I have a great deal of work to do here.’ She turned to John. ‘It was nice to see you again, Mr Rawlings.’

‘And you, Miss Lovell.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘May I have a word with you in private?’

‘Yes, by all means. When and where?’

But he never got the chance to answer her. Elizabeth was at his side, dark hair gleaming and eyes lit from within.

‘Come along, my dear,’ she said. ‘We really must be getting back.’

‘I’ve a question to put to Miss Lovell first. I was going to ask her in private but as we are so short of time I will have to forgo that.’

Jemima stood her ground. ‘Ask me then, Sir.’

‘It’s this: Had you met anyone on the coach before you started your journey?’

‘Yes,’ she answered, somewhat surprisingly. ‘I knew the actress, Paulina Gower. She buys hats from Madame Sophie. We had met before.’

‘And that was all?’

Jemima lowered her eyes. ‘Yes, that was all. The rest were complete strangers to me.’

Why did John get the strong impression that the girl was lying?

Going back in the carriage John knew a moment of intense happiness as he thought that just for once he had the better of Elizabeth. This was followed by instant shame that he should be so childish. Yet nothing could take away his delight that she had actually appeared jealous of Jemima Lovell, who admittedly was an attractive young creature. He glanced across at the Marchesa and impulsively took her hand. She turned to him and smiled and in that instant he suddenly feared for her. She looked tired and it occurred to John that this pregnancy, coming so late in her life, was going to be a great ordeal, culminating in a labour that surely would not be easy for her.

‘My darling,’ he said, ‘you must retire to bed as soon as we get back.’

‘Nonsense,’ Elizabeth answered roundly. ‘It is the height of the day. I shall dine as usual. Indeed I am quite hungry.’

‘Promise me that you will retire early then.’

‘My God, John. You are not going to turn into a grandmother are you? I really could not abide being nursemaided. I warn you that I shall continue to live my life as usual until the last possible moment.’

The Apothecary gave a rueful smile. ‘And when will that be? When you go into travail I suppose.’

She smiled and squeezed his fingers. ‘Maybe a week before,’ she answered. And John knew that even if he remained with her for the rest of his life she would eventually be capable of winning every point.