Straw in the Wind (7 page)

‘Yes, I do.' She sighed again, the pain in her eyes there for him to see. ‘My mother was in agony, her screams went on and on until she was too tired to do anything but groan.'

‘Where was Marianne?'

‘She couldn't stand it. She went out on the heath, and just as I was getting worried about her she came back. It was almost dark and I reprimanded her. She said she'd visited the gypsies, and one had told her that the baby would be a girl. But she was trembling and scared and I think she instinctively knew that our mother wouldn't survive the birth.

‘The baby was born during the night. It was a full moon. I remember looking out of my bedroom window, because the water and heath look so pretty in the moonlight. Marianne woke and crawled into my bed. She was scared and so was I, but we didn't know why. I told her a story and we cuddled each other until she fell asleep. I stayed awake, and I went to see my mother. She was lying still. There was blood on her nightgown, and the baby was there too.' Charlotte closed her eyes. ‘She was on the bed . . . so little and naked and quiet . . . then . . . Marianne called out in her sleep and I went to her.'

Tears trickled from under her lids. ‘That's all I remember until morning. Our father woke us at dawn, to tell us that our mother and the baby had died. He was beside himself, weeping and wailing and banging his head against the wall. He scared Marianne. She ran downstairs and hid in the hall cupboard.'

‘Your sister said she heard the baby cry.'

Charlotte shrugged. ‘Marianne has always had a vivid imagination . . . she could have dreamed it, or heard an owl taking its prey on the heath.'

Charlotte was keeping something back from him – something she wanted to forget herself, perhaps. He held the glance she threw at him.

‘Is that what you believe, or what you want to believe?'

Her eyes slid away. ‘I don't know, Adam. I don't want to remember what happened in my childhood. Growing up without a mother, and with a father who was drunk for most of the time, was unpleasant. Marianne liked her freedom, and I had to try and keep her under control. I was always on edge, trying to appease our father, whose temper was uncertain at the best of times. Marianne seemed to go out of her way to vex him. I tried not to bully her, but I know she resented my authority. I was only two years older than her, after all. I seemed to live in perpetual fear that one of us would do the wrong thing and upset him.'

‘Marianne appreciates what you went through.'

‘She does now. I was often wrong about her and I know I was unfair to her when I didn't credit her with any sense. She has plenty of good sense, otherwise she wouldn't have gone on to the heath that day. I feared for her sometimes.'

‘Feared for her?'

‘Pa used to turn against her in a way he never did with me. It was as though he saw our mother in her, and remembered she'd been unfaithful to him. Sometimes when he was drunk, he called her by our mother's name. He took a riding crop to her for answering him back, once, and I thought he was going to kill her. She was covered in welts and bruises.' Charlotte faltered, and her face paled. ‘I pray that she doesn't remember those times. I begged him to stop hitting her but he wouldn't, so one day I picked up his gun and threatened to shoot him with it.'

Adam hadn't expected that. As his eyes widened in surprise he thought that Charlotte had been incredibly brave to defend her sister against a man. Even so he didn't disturb the thread of her thoughts.

‘Pa laughed, and although he'd taught me to shoot he told me to go ahead and pull the trigger, and put him out of his misery. So I did. Marianne hit my arm to divert the shot. It went wide, and the ball creased the top of his ear and buried itself into the panelling in the hall, thank God. It's still there.'

She suddenly paled and a fine sheen of perspiration covered her brow. When he noticed she was trembling he crossed to the sideboard with her coffee and added a measure of brandy from the decanter. He placed it in her hands. ‘My dear, I've upset you, and I'm sorry. Here, drink this down.'

‘No, it's not you, Adam.' She swallowed the remains of the coffee as he'd urged, grimaced, then shuddered and pushed the cup away from her.

‘Shall I fetch Seth?'

Before his eyes she pulled herself together and gained her strength. ‘No, it was just a faint and I'm beginning to feel better. The worst thing was, I didn't try to wound pa. I wanted to kill him. Marianne was so small and helpless – too small to fight back. Her eyes were so wounded and bewildered. I told him that if he hurt her again I'd wait until he was asleep, and I wouldn't miss the second time. He broke down and cried then. It worries me to think I've inherited his temper. I don't let go of grudges easily.'

He lightened her mood with, ‘Rest assured, if you ever point a gun at me I'll run in the opposite direction like a hare with the wind under its tail.'

Her eyes lit up with amusement. ‘Adam Chapman racing a bullet might be a sight to behold.'

He laughed. ‘Marianne has a good head on her shoulders; no wonder she loves you so dearly.'

‘I know that now, Adam. For the first time in my life I'm happy and contented, thanks to Seth. I don't want things to change. So yes, I want to believe that Marianne imagined that cry. If she didn't, it means that the baby lived, and . . .'

‘Have you an opinion on what might have been the fate of the infant?'

Her face closed up and she murmured, ‘Not one I want to think or talk about. I've already said more than I meant to.' Her lovely mouth twisted in a wry smile. ‘You have a sneaky way with you, Adam. You asked me two questions and despite my resolve not to, I answered all the questions you didn't ask, as well.'

‘Perhaps it's because I'm a good listener and you needed to answer them. If there's anything else you might have forgotten—'

‘No, there isn't!'

It was said too emphatically, but he let it go, giving a faint smile. ‘You've been helpful. You know, Charlotte, you have more goodness in you than you give yourself credit for. Will you mind very much if your sister is found?'

‘I don't know. If she exists, and if you happen to find her, ask me then. It's hard to be civil to someone you've despised all your life.'

‘I'm sure you'll manage if the time comes.' He stood, picking up his hat and gloves. ‘Be sure that I'll keep you informed through Marianne, who has been appointed by Erasmus Thornton to act on his behalf.'

She shook her head. ‘I never imagined he'd have a conscience.'

Gently he kissed her cheek. ‘Most people do. Captain Thornton is no exception and he's in an awkward situation. It could be that Marianne has given him the incentive to act that he needed. People are often surprising.'

Seth came from the study when they went into the hall. His glance went immediately to Charlotte's face, and he relaxed, as if reassured by what he saw there. He moved to her side, and said, ‘You're leaving already, Adam?'

‘Yes, I have some enquiries to make, and my cab is waiting. Thank you, Charlotte, you were very helpful, and I hope it wasn't too painful.'

After they watched the cab leave, Seth smiled at her. ‘Well?'

‘I wished you'd been in there with me.'

‘I thought my presence would have been intimidating.'

‘You never intimidate me, but you do make me aware of being cautious.'

‘Adam is a family friend now. He is totally discreet, and there's no need for caution.'

Her eyes met his and she smiled. ‘I want to tell you something, Seth.'

‘Is it that you love me?'

‘Of course not.' Her eyes mirrored her consternation in case he misconstrued her words. ‘I do love you though, didn't you realize?'

‘Yes, but say it again in cold blood.'

An expression of shyness appeared in her eyes and she offered him a breathless little chuckle that charmed him. ‘I love you, Seth Hardy. There, will that do?'

‘Perfectly. You've never told me that before, you know.' Cradling her face in his hands Seth bowed his head and kissed her before smiling. ‘You taste of brandy. Can this account for your tongue being loosened?'

She laughed. ‘Adam gave me the brandy because I nearly fainted, and he thought his questioning was the cause. However, the fault lies with you, since we're expecting an infant in the spring. That's what I had to tell you.'

A smile spread across his face. ‘I'll accept both blame and responsibility in equal proportions, but we mustn't forget your willing participation in the creation of this infant, especially when it makes for such pleasant reverie.'

‘I hope you have other things you can think about during the day.'

‘Yes . . . but they're not half as pleasant.'

Colour touched Charlotte's cheeks and she buried her face against his shoulder. She'd never expected to love a man so completely. ‘Stop teasing me, Seth Hardy.'

Marianne had told Adam that the funeral parlour had gone. However, death had not travelled far from the place, for the premises now sold the weapons that caused the final end product.
Henry Palk and Son. Sporting guns. Duelling pistols. Sword sticks. Weapons of defence.
Bars guarded the window and the glass panels in the door, which also had a stout metal lock to secure it. The shop front resembled a prison cell, but perhaps it was designed to deter aspiring robbers by showing them what to expect.

Henry Palk was in residence behind the counter, looking like a fixture. ‘I haven't had a sale all week,' he said gloomily, when Adam introduced himself and stated his business.

‘I wondered if there were any funerary records left behind.'

Henry looked doubtful, then he brightened. ‘As I recall there are some papers down in the cellar. I'll get my son to take you down and you can have a look when he comes back. It's a gloomy hole though and it smells a bit. Sometimes we store bits and pieces down there. Not that we keep much on the premises, and we always take the bolts home with us.'

He gazed doubtfully at Adam's immaculate appearance. ‘It's easy enough to go down but it's as black as a coal bunker. A tall man like you will have to stay bent over lest you thump your head on the beam. Best you leave your hat and jacket up here with me so they'll stay clean. At least your trousers are dark.'

‘That's kind of you, Mr Palk.'

The door opened as he spoke and a man who appeared to be in his forties entered. He was of a short, stocky stature.

‘This is my son, Thomas Palk. Thomas, Mr Chapman is a detecting agent making enquiries about a deceased person. I said he could look through that old trunk in the cellar and go through the funeral parlour records. Take him down if you would.'

‘Right then, I'll fetch a candle. Come through behind the counter, sir; the trapdoor is in the back room.'

‘They used to prepare the bodies for burial in that back room,' Henry offered with a shudder.

Thomas rolled his eyes. ‘Someone has to do it, and at least it's a profession where you don't run out of clients. You can help me lift the trapdoor if you would, sir.'

Henry took Adam's coat and hat from him. ‘Keep a look out for ghosts,' he said, as Adam followed Thomas down.

Henry had been right. The cellar was small and low, and smelled of damp, mould and mice. It was also filled with cobwebs and scuttling creatures and Adam thought he might have welcomed a couple of ghosts to scare them off. He found a trunk full of yellowed papers that seemed to be in a state of decomposition, and which were filed in a manner that offended his tidy mind. He had to squat on his haunches to go through them.

Thomas said, ‘You won't mind if I go back up again, will you, sir? I can't abide the feeling of being closed in down here.'

By the time Adam was halfway through the papers his back ached from bending almost double and his hands were black with dirt. But he'd found what he was looking for, the record of the interment of Caroline Honeyman some eighteen years before.

Henry had some soap and water waiting for him. ‘Best you wash those hands before you touch anything.' He gently brushed cobwebs, dust and a couple of spindly long-legged spiders from Adam's trousers before handing him his coat. ‘I'm going over to the inn to take a bite of something to eat. They do a tasty steak and kidney pie there, if you happen to be hungry.'

‘Indeed, I am. I'd like to thank you for your trouble, so perhaps you'd be my guest.'

A smile spread across Henry's face. ‘That's right generous of you, Mr Chapman. I won't say no to that.'

Henry had a small circle of friends he lunched with, businessmen like himself. Adam learned more at the inn where they took their repast. A couple of rounds of ale loosened their tongues.

‘Mr Chapman is making enquiries about Mrs Caroline Honeyman.'

‘She's long dead.'

‘He knows that, don't he?'

‘Then why is he making enquiries?'

Three pairs of eyes gazed at him.

‘I'm making them on behalf of the relatives. They're interested in what happened to the infant.'

Henry said, ‘That will be Nicholas Thornton's young woman, I reckon. She came in looking for information when she was little more than a girl. I didn't let her down in the cellar though. It's not a place for a young woman.'

Another of the young men grinned. ‘Now there's a nesh piece for a man to have in his bed. No wonder Thornton the younger didn't bother going back to sea.'

Laughter cackled. ‘An old codger like you wouldn't know what to do with a woman like that.'

‘I remember her aunt, Constance Serafina Jarvis. She used to live over Dorchester way.'

Adam's ears pricked up. Serafina again . . . the name Marianne had heard in the wind. Had it been a quirk of nature that had captured that name and placed it in Marianne's head at that moment? Had it been more – a connection between the spirit and the living perhaps, or was it a straw in the wind? He'd solved cases on a slimmer premise.