Victoria Holt (28 page)

“Tell me about it,” I said. “I’m sure there is an explanation.”

“I hate Charlotte Mackay,” she said.

“You don’t really. She’s just a silly arrogant girl most of the time.”

“I hate her,” she said. “She’s wicked.”

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

She was silent.

“Miss Hetherington wants an explanation, you know.”

Still she was silent.

“There must be a reason. Was it perhaps some little thing, and you remembered all your anger with her in the past…Was it the last straw?”

She said: “It wasn’t little.”

“What was it then?”

Again that silence.

“Perhaps if you could explain, Miss Hetherington would understand. She is just, you know. If you have a good reason she will realize that for the moment you lost control. We all know how trying Charlotte can be.”

But she would not tell me. I tried again and again but although I was sure of her affection for me I could get nothing out of her.

“She’s wicked,” was all she would say. “She’s wicked and a liar and I hate her. I’m glad I did it.”

“Don’t tell Miss Hetherington that. You must be penitent and say you’re sorry and you must never do such a thing again. I daresay you’ll have some lines to write after this. You’ll probably have to spend all day tomorrow here doing your penance.”

“I don’t care. I’m glad I hurt her.”

I sighed. That was not the right attitude, and I was very disconcerted that Teresa refused to tell even me what had happened.

I had to go back to Daisy and admit defeat.

***

Uneasy days passed. Charlotte made the most of her injury. Once I went to her bedroom and found Fiona and Eugenie there with Elsa. They were sitting on the beds laughing.

It was hard to reprove them when I remembered that only a short time ago I might have figured in such a scene at Schaffenbrucken.

I continued to avoid Jason Verringer but I did go out alone sometimes. When I rode into the town I took a long route round so that I did not go too near the Hall. This led me past Rooks’ Rest. I saw signs of activity there and guessed the Coverdales were moving in.

I hesitated about going into the post office but should have to do so one day, and the time came when I boldly went in. Mrs. Baddicombe was overjoyed to see me. She showed no rancor over my coldness during our previous encounter. She kept me waiting until she had served two customers and then gave me that lively curious look and leaned over the counter with an air of intimacy.

“Nice to see you, Miss Grant. I hear there’s to be grand doings up at the school with that pageant.”

“Oh, yes,” I replied. “It’s the anniversary of the building of the Abbey so a rather special occasion.”

“Fancy that! All them years ago. I was saying to Mrs. Taylor when she was in this morning that I wondered how the little mite was getting on. Happy enough, I’ll bet. That Jane Gittings dotes on her and so does Ada Whalley.”

“Who is Ada Whalley?”

“Jane’s sister. The Whalleys lived here in Colby for years. Old Billy Whalley was manager of the cider place. Did well for himself. Brought up on the moors he were and the girls was with their grandmother there when they was little. When he retired he went to the cottage on the moors. His mother was dead then. Jane had married Gittings and Ada went with him to keep house for him. Down at Bristonleigh, it was, right on the edge of the moor. They was always talking about the moor, those Whalleys were. Percy Billings was sweet on Ada at one time, but nothing came of it because she had to look after the old man and then Percy all of a sudden marries Jenny Markey.”

“Quite a little saga.”

“Well, so it be, me dear. Ada would have made a good mother. I’ll reckon she’ll look after that little Miranda, her and Jane Gittings between them. Jane didn’t have no children neither. Funny how some ’as ’em and some don’t…and it’s more likely them that don’t want them as gets them. Look at Sophie Prestwick. Easy to see what she’s been up to. There’ll have to be a quick wedding there, mark my words. So Sophie larks about and gets caught…and them that wants ’em can’t get ’em. Take Sir Jason for instance…”

She was looking at me slyly.

I told her what stamps I wanted, and almost reluctantly she took out her folder and gave them to me.

“Well, be seeing things won’t we, now the lady in the case has passed on, you might say.”

“Passed on?”

“We don’t know where to, do we? All we know is that she ain’t with us now. I’ll tell you one thing, Miss Grant, nothing stands still, does it? Life moves on. I often say to myself: well, I wonder what next.”

“You seem to be well informed on everything that goes on,” I said ironically.

“It’s in the nature of the post office, you might say. As I always say to Baddicombe: There’s not much to this job…you work hard and you don’t get much…but I says to him, I says: There’s people…and that’s what makes it worthwhile.”

She raised her eyes and with the air of a benefactress to mankind, put her folder in a drawer.

I went out feeling relieved that she had shown no displeasure and wondered whether at our last meeting she had even grasped my disapproval.

In the afternoon I went for a walk through the ruins, keeping a wary eye out for Jason Verringer in case he had decided to take a walk there. He might easily do so for I guessed he was trying to catch me, and would do so sooner or later.

I came to the ponds and looked at their waters rushing to the falls as they reached their lower depths. They made a soothing sound and I walked along beside them to the river and then started to wander along its bank.

I realized that I must turn back or be late so I retraced my steps and as I came in sight of the fish ponds I saw Teresa.

I called to her and she came running toward me.

“Are you taking a walk too?” I asked.

“Yes. I saw you coming this way.”

“We have to start back now. I mustn’t be late for class, nor must you. Did you manage your lines?”

“Oh yes. I had to learn ‘Once more unto the breach’ right down to ‘God for Harry! England and St. George!’”

“Quite a long piece.”

“I knew most of it already.”

“Oh, Teresa, I’m sorry that happened. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

She nodded firmly.

I sighed. “I thought you might have felt you could confide in me.”

She remained silent and a look of mulish obstinacy crossed her face.

We walked in silence.

“Have you a part in the Pageant?” I asked.

“No. Well, only at the end…doing exercises and singing the school song. Miss Grant…there is something I want to ask you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought: Now she is going to tell me what Charlotte had done to offend her so deeply.

“Well, Teresa?”

“It’s hard to say because I think you like him…I think you like him quite a lot.”

“Who? What do you mean?”

“It’s about Mrs. Martindale.”

I felt my voice shake a little as I said: “What about her?”

“I—I think she’s dead. I—I think she was murdered.”

“Teresa! How can you say such a thing. You really mustn’t.”

“I haven’t told anyone else.”

“I should hope not.”

She stopped and putting her hand in her pocket held it out to me. As the fingers unclosed I saw an earring. It was so bizarre and colorful that I immediately recognized it.

“It was hers,” she said. “I saw her wearing it.”

“Well?”

“I found it here…by the ponds…It must have come off…in a struggle.”

“My dear Teresa, you are imagining too much. You’re like Mrs. Baddicombe.”

“It’s her earring. I know because Eugenie had it to return to her not long ago. She showed it to us then. I found this…down there by the water…She must have dropped it.”

“Well, she dropped it. She lost it. People do lose earrings and the fact that she lost this one before shows that there was something faulty about it.”

“I think this dropped off when she was thrown into the river.”

“Teresa! What has come over you. First you attack Charlotte Mackay and now you are making these wild accusations about…about whom, Teresa?”

“About him. I’m afraid you like him, Miss Grant. I know that women are supposed to. But don’t…I—I…can’t bear it that he should…talk to you…and bring you into all this. It spoils everything…all the fun we have with Aunt Patty and Violet. Miss Grant, please don’t take any notice of him. He’s a wicked man. Eugenie says—”

“Have you said anything to anyone about this, Teresa?”

She shook her head violently.

“Promise me you won’t.”

She nodded firmly.

“It’s nonsense,” I went on. “There is a lot of evil gossip. Mrs. Martindale left because she was tired of the country.”

“Why didn’t she
say
she was going?”

“Why should she? It was no concern of anyone but herself. No doubt she told anyone who would be concerned.”

“Oh, Miss Grant, don’t be in it. Let them do what they like, but let
us
stay away from it. Let’s think about the summer and the bees and the flowers and Aunt Patty’s hats and Violet’s apple pies.”

“Teresa, calm down,” I said. “You are imagining all this. I shouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Martindale came back.”

“She can’t. He wouldn’t have her. He’s finished with her now. That’s what he’s like. He casts off people when he’s finished with them…and kills them. There was his first wife.”

“This is all so much gossip.”

“It’s true.”

“No.”

“It
is
true,” said Teresa, “and I’m afraid. I don’t want you—”

I put my arm round her. “I am not concerned in this,” I said soothingly. “This man is nothing to do with us. He just happens to own the Abbey lands, that’s all. Everything is as it was before. You’re coming home with me for the summer holidays and we’ll have a wonderful time.”

“Oh, yes…yes.”

“Make sure you don’t do anything that might make Miss Hetherington angry. She might decide to punish you by keeping you at school.”

Teresa had turned white.

I said quickly: “Oh, she wouldn’t do that. But don’t run the risk. And Teresa, not a word of this to anyone. It’s not true…but it would be wrong to talk of it. You haven’t, have you?”

“Oh no, no.”

“And that earring…”

She held out her palm. It lay there, the ruby a vivid red glistening in the sunshine.

I wondered what should be done with it and what effect it would have if people knew it had been found by the fish ponds.

I did not have to wonder long for with a quick movement Teresa lifted her arm and flung the earring into the water.

Shocked, I turned to her. “Teresa,” I cried. “Why did you do that?”

“It’s all over,” she said. “Don’t let’s say any more about it. I won’t…if you don’t.”

I felt very disturbed and at the same time relieved that I did not have to take some action about the earring.

Quietly we walked back to school. I thought Teresa seemed calmer and happier than she had since the affair with Charlotte.

I was haunted by doubts. I found sleep impossible. How had the earring come to be down there by the fish ponds? Only if the owner had been there.

She might have walked to the fish ponds. It was some way from Rooks’ Rest and I had never seen her out walking; she was not the sort of person to take long tramps in the countryside.

Just suppose she was dead. Suppose she
was
murdered. What of Maisie? Where was she? Were the scandalmongers suggesting that she too had been murdered? Perhaps the idea of one body being thrown into the ponds was plausible. But two? I remembered then that Jason Verringer had told me how an ancestor of his had once disposed of a rival by throwing his body into the fish ponds after killing him. “The river is swift running and only a few miles from the sea.” He had said something like that.

And then the child? What of the child? She was in the care of Mrs. Gittings on Dartmoor, but she could not stay there indefinitely without arrangements being made.

It was a lot of nonsense. It had its roots in the post office and had grown to this through other mischief-makers. But Jason Verringer was ruthless. He had shown me that clearly enough. Other people were only important to him when they could give him what he wanted. He could contemplate rape. Why not then murder? He had obviously been attracted to Marcia Martindale at one time since he had offered her a home at Rooks’ Rest. And then there was the child. He had certainly been a little casual about her. But at least he had offered them a home.

I wondered about the child and the more I thought of it the more strongly I decided I must find out all I could and that if I could see Mrs. Gittings—who seemed to me a very reasonable and practical person—I might learn a good deal. If I did discover that this was all nonsense I would make sure that everyone in the neighborhood knew and I would put a stop to this pernicious gossip.

The more I thought of it, the more possible it seemed. I had heard the name of the place where Mrs. Gittings’s sister lived. Perhaps something like this had been at the back of my mind for I had memorized the names. Mrs. Gittings’s sister was Ada Whalley and she lived at a place called Bristonleigh on Dartmoor. That was not very far from here, probably a matter of about fifteen miles.

Why not? The more I thought of it, the better the idea seemed.

I said to Daisy: “On Sunday I should like to go and see a friend of mine who lives on Dartmoor, but I am not quite sure of the locality.”

“Sunday is a day, I suppose, when you could easily get away. I am sure you could arrange for one of the others to take over any duties you might have.”

“Yes, I am sure I could. I wonder if you have a map. I should like to see where it is exactly.”

“There are several. I’ll show you.”

Bristonleigh was not marked on the first, but she had a map of Dartmoor and its environs—and there it was. It was clearly a small hamlet right on the edge of the moor. I made a note of the nearest town.

I should have to go there and take some sort of conveyance to this place, I supposed.

“There is one train which leaves here at ten thirty,” said Daisy. “And the one which would bring you back doesn’t pass through until four. That should give you a little time with your friends.”

“I’ll try it. It will be an experiment.”

And so it was that I found myself speeding through the lush Devon countryside on that Sunday morning.

The journey was only half an hour and when I arrived at the station and asked the porter how I could get to Bristonleigh, he was a little dubious, but only for a moment. “It’s three miles from here…uphill a bit. But I reckon Dick Cramm wouldn’t mind earning a bit extra of a Sunday. He’d be just about up and about. He likes a bit of a lay-in on Sundays. But he be ready in case we gets calls, which we don’t often.”

“Where can I find him?”

“Go through the yard. Turn to the right. You’ll see his place. Crabtree Cottage with a great crab apple tree beside it. That’s where it gets its name.”

I thanked him and went off in search of Dick Cramm who fortunately was up and fresh from his Sunday morning “lay-in” and quite ready to take me to Bristonleigh.

“I want to see Miss Ada Whalley,” I said.

“Oh, she be a fine lady, Miss Ada Whalley.”

“You know her then?”

“Know her? Who don’t know Miss Ada Whalley in these parts! She do grow the best vegetables round here. My wife has some…so does most. Some of ’em goes up to London for folks up there. I goes and gets them and puts them on the train for her. Oh yes, I know Miss Ada Whalley.”

This was great good fortune. I had imagined myself prowling the streets of Bristonleigh looking for Miss Ada Whalley.

“She do have her sister living with her now,” he went on. “That be nice for her. She was saying so only the other day when I took down a load of greens. She said: ‘’Tis nice having my sister with me.’ Poor soul. I reckon she were lonely before.”

We came to Bristonleigh. It was a beautiful village, typical of England and especially of Devon where the vegetation seems to be more lush than anywhere else in the country. There was the old church, the village green, a few houses, mostly eighteenth century except the Elizabethan Manor House on the common. The church clock chimed twelve just as we entered the village.

“Miss Whalley, hers a bit apart from the rest. She’s got a bit of land for her growing things, you see. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I shall have to catch the train back. It’s half-past three isn’t it?”

“That’s so, Miss.”

“Will you come and pick me up and take me to the station?”

“That I will. Reckon I should be with you just before three. That all right for you, Miss?”

“It would suit me very well. Thank you so much. I am so glad I found you.”

He scratched his head and stared straight in front of him but I knew he was well pleased.

“Here’s the house. I’d better wait. Make sure they’re in like. Not that they’re likely to go away without us knowing.”

I thought then how little there was country people did not know about each other. Of course in some cases they put the wrong construction on, but none could accuse them of indifference to their neighbors’ lives.

I paid him and gave him a little extra which faintly embarrassed him but pleased him all the same.

“You have been especially helpful,” I said.

“’Tweren’t nothing. Oh, here be Mrs. Gittings with the little ’un.”

And there, as though to make my venture smoother than I had dared hope was Mrs. Gittings, emerging from the house holding Miranda by the hand.

“Miss Grant!” she cried.

I went hastily to her. I was aware of the driver watching intently so I turned to him and said “Thank you. I’ll see you just before three o’clock.”

He touched his cap with his whip and turned the horses.

“I must explain,” I said.

“Oh, Miss Grant. I
am
surprised to see you. Have you come all this way to see me and Miranda?”

“I heard you were here with your sister and Mrs. Baddicombe told me her name and where she lived. So this is where you always come with Miranda?”

“Yes. Did you want to…?”

“To talk to you.”

Miranda was gazing at me with curiosity.

“She looks very well,” I said.

“It suits her. She’s happy here.”

Mrs. Gittings must have guessed that I was wary of talking before the child. She would be able to understand certain things and I did not want to say anything that would bewilder her.

“Come along in and meet my sister. We are having our midday meal early for Miranda. She sleeps for a couple of hours after. My sister will be pleased to see you. Then…we can talk.”

I guessed she meant when Miranda went to sleep and was grateful for her tact.

Miss Ada Whalley had come out, hearing voices, to see who had arrived. She was a big-boned woman with muscular shoulders and her face was tanned by the weather.

“This is Miss Grant from the school, Ada,” said Mrs. Gittings. “You know…the school at the Abbey.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” said Ada.

“She’s come to have a talk…” She nodded toward Miranda and Ada nodded back.

“I reckon,” said Mrs. Gittings, “that Miss Grant could well do with a spot of dinner.”

“I’m sorry to have come unannounced,” I said. “I didn’t quite know what to do and I thought Mrs. Gittings might help me.”

“That’s all right,” said Ada. “We’re used to people dropping in from the village, you know. They like to sample my stuff, they say. I’ve no objection. All home grown.”

“Even the pig,” said Mrs. Gittings.

“He’s little Piggy Porker,” announced Miranda.

“No, pet, little Piggy Porker is with his mam, gobbling away. He’s the greediest one in the litter.”

Miranda grunted in imitation of a pig and looked shyly at me as though for admiration.

“Oh, dear,” said Ada, “it sounds to me as if little Piggy Porker has got in here somewhere.”

Miranda grunted and Ada pretended to look round in alarm. Miranda obviously thought it was a great joke. One thing was immediately clear. With these two, she would not be missing her mother.

“I’ll take Miss Grant to wash her hands,” said Ada.

I followed her up a wooden staircase to a room in which was a washbasin and ewer. Everything was so clean that it seemed to shine.

“You get a good view of the gardens from the back here,” said Ada, and I looked out over the rows and rows of growing things. There were two greenhouses and a potting shed.

“And you do all this yourself?”

“I’ve got a man to help. I’ll have to get another by the way business is growing. Now Jane’s here it’s a help. She does a lot in the house. And you’ve come to talk with Jane. I hope you’re not going to tempt her away. It’s such company to have her here and I’ve always wanted us to be together.”

“I haven’t come to tempt her away. I just want to talk to her, to clear up a few mysteries.”

When I had washed my hands she took me down. Mrs. Gittings was laying the table and Miranda was making a great show of helping her. There was a savory smell of roasting pork coming from the oven and an air of supreme contentment in the little room in which we sat down to eat. The vegetables were delicious.

“Straight from the ground,” said Ada. “That’s the way to eat vegetables.”

“If you are fortunate enough to be able to do so,” I added.

“Now have some more of these potatoes, Miss Grant. It was a good crop this year, and I will say this for Jane, she knows how to cook. I used to be a bit slapdash myself. Jane will have none of that. She’s a bit of an old tartar, ain’t she, pet?”

She had a habit of seeking confirmation from Miranda to which the child responded with a wise nod.

Miranda was seated in a highchair enveloped in a huge bib and was feeding herself with results which were not too disastrous. When food failed to reach her mouth, Ada would laugh and shovel it in. “This little bit lost its way. He didn’t know he had to go down the red lane, did he, pet?”

“He didn’t know, did he?” said Miranda with glee.

In due course the meal was over and Miranda was whisked off for her nap. Ada tactfully said she wanted to have a look at the greenhouses and that left me alone with Jane Gittings.

I said: “I hope you don’t mind my coming like this. It seems something of an imposition.”

“It’s been a pleasure. Ada likes visitors. It’s a treat for her to see people enjoy what she grows.”

“She is a wonderful person, I can see. Mrs. Gittings, there is a great deal of gossip in Colby. People are saying the most extraordinary things.”

“It’s that post woman.”

“I think she is at the heart of it. It was mysterious, wasn’t it? I want to put a stop to the gossip, but I don’t know how to. If I could discover what really happened…or where Mrs. Martindale is and get her to come back and show herself or something…”

“It’s difficult for me to say, Miss Grant, as I know no more than you do where she is.”

“But there is the child.”

“Sir Jason takes care of that.”

“Sir Jason then…”

“He always did. He asked if I would take the child to my sister and look after her. He’d pay me for looking after her and the child’s keep…only he wanted us to go to my sister. Well, I knew what Ada would say to that. She’s always wanted me to leave and go in with her and she loves Miranda. I said to Sir Jason that there’d be no troubles about that as far as Ada was concerned.”

“So he asked you to take her away. That would be a few days before Mrs. Martindale left.”

“That would be it. When she went away I always took Miranda to Ada’s. It was understood like. It was the day after Maisie went.”

“After Maisie went…?” I repeated.

“Yes, she left. There was a terrible to-do…and the next day Maisie was off. She took most of Mrs. Martindale’s things with her, dresses and things like that. There wasn’t much left when she went. I never knew the rights of it and I’m not one to have my ears glued to keyholes. All I knew was that they were going on at each other. Then Maisie goes off and Sir Jason asked me to take Miranda to Ada’s.”

I was filled with a horrible apprehension. “So Maisie went…and then you left.”

“That’s right. So you see I can’t tell you what happened after that. I was right glad to get away. Mrs. Martindale and that Maisie used to go for one another something shocking. I used to think Miranda would hear. Oh, I was glad to get away. Mrs. Martindale never minded my going. She’d get a girl in from the village to do the rough. I never did none of that, anyway. It was the child who was my concern, though I did give a hand in the house, not being the sort to stand by and do nothing when there’s things to be done.”

I wasn’t listening. One thought was going round and round in my head. Maisie had gone and after that he had asked Mrs. Gittings to take the child away.

I heard myself say: “The Coverdales…you remember them…they are living at Rooks’ Rest, so it is obvious…she is not coming back.”

“Oh, I thought it might be something like that because Sir Jason said I was to take Miranda and the money would be paid to me here, and when she was five, which wouldn’t be for some time yet, he’d make arrangements for her schooling. But she was to be in my sole care. Oh, I thought, so Madam is moving out. That means he’d done with her. Well, funny things always did go on there, and right glad I am to be out of it. Sir Jason said to me, ‘I know you’re to be trusted, Mrs. Gittings. There is no one who can look after the child as you do.’ A slap at her, if you ask me. Not that she cared. She never showed a blind bit of interest in the child. She didn’t want her. Only wanted to show him that she could have them. There was all that talk about him not having an heir and all that. It’s no way to bring children into the world, Miss Grant.”