Walking Into Murder (6 page)

Thomas didn’t seem to be in the house, nor was anyone else about. Laura decided to look for him outside, which also gave her an excellent excuse to poke around the grounds and outbuildings before she left.

She came first to a large tool shed filled with the usual assortment of gardening implements and other outdoor paraphernalia. Nothing caught her eye except a large box of rat poison that made her shudder. She had no way of knowing if this particular victim had been fed rat poison, but she would keep the clue in mind. She went on to a barn-like structure beside the stables. This one was more interesting. Shuffling noises greeted her as she came inside, as if a heavy object were being moved or dragged across the floor. Laura stood still, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. When she could see better, she moved cautiously ahead, her boots soundless on the hay-strewn surface.

She stopped abruptly and her stomach seemed to drop to the floor. She had found Thomas. He was leaning nonchalantly against the far wall and Antonia was pressed hard against him. Her arms were clasped around him and her lips were raised to his.

CHAPTER SIX

Laura looked away, disgusted. So that was the answer to Thomas’s whereabouts. He, not the groom, was the cause of Antonia’s earlier dishabille.

How disillusioning. She had expected more of Thomas, had thought him either a real villain or a man of some character, not just a womanizer. That seemed so ordinary, so utterly lacking in imagination and style. Worse, she had fallen for it. Embarrassment flooded Laura as she remembered how enthusiastically she had returned his kisses. If she hadn’t been so exhausted, she might even have jumped into bed with him. She had certainly wanted to. How amused he must have been!

Still not believing he could be quite that callous, she glanced back to verify what she had seen. Thomas was looking right at her but he didn’t react at all, didn’t even seem to see her. Was he that besotted with Antonia?

Might as well get on with what you came to do and start walking,
Laura thought, surprised at the depth of her disappointment. If nothing else, she had looked forward to matching wits with Thomas while she tried to figure out what was going on at Torrington Manor. Now even that was impossible. The spice seemed to have gone out of life.

Head down, she walked rapidly out of the barn and down the driveway. She moved so fast she almost bumped into a burly man with a shovel in one hand and a rake over his shoulder. The gardener, she supposed. Laura said a polite good morning. To her surprise, he didn’t answer, nor did he move out of her way. Instead he stood still, staring at her suspiciously. Then, seeming to remember himself, he bid her a brusque good morning and let her pass.

He must have been watching her the whole time she had been looking into the barn! Laura felt an unexpected sense of violation. She hurried on, aware that his eyes were on her back, and was glad when the lane turned and she could no longer be seen.

She strode on steadily. It was a beautiful day; sunlight poured down, unexpected but welcome after yesterday’s storm, and her surroundings were gorgeous. Wildflowers decorated the fields, birds sang, and the world felt made for enjoyment.

Her euphoria was short-lived. At the bottom of the lane she came to a halt and stared unbelievingly at the water coursing across the road. It looked more than two feet deep. Lord Torrington hadn’t made up that flood story up to keep the police away.

Laura hesitated. She wasn’t going back to Torrington Manor, at least while Thomas was there; that was certain. Maybe she could find a drier place to cross, or maybe it would be easier to take off her boots and wade.

Reluctantly, Laura bent down to unlace her boots. The sound of grinding gears startled her and she stood up again. A huge truck with wheels that looked to be four feet high was lurching drunkenly through the muddy potholes she had just negotiated.

The vehicle ground to a halt, and a stocky man with a shock of white hair that belied his youthful face jumped out. “Might I help? I’m Adrian Banbury, the local veterinarian. My truck churns through flood, snow and ice, and I should be happy to offer you a lift.”

Laura smiled. What a delightful way of speaking he had! A charming country gentleman veterinarian, she decided. And at the moment, a savior.

“If you would take me across this flooded area, I would be delighted,” she accepted. “I’m Laura Morland, and I’m on a walking trip in the area.”

“Surely, you’re not walking alone!” Dr. Banbury exclaimed. “You are American, I believe, and perhaps not familiar with our paths. They can be very confusing, I fear.”

Old-fashioned as well as courtly, Laura thought wryly. “I’m quite independent,” she answered. “So far I’ve only gotten lost once.”

“I see,” he answered, and stared at her intently. Disconcerted, Laura put a hand to her face, wondering if there was mud on it.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that you remind me of someone, someone quite unexpected.”

“That’s all right,” Laura replied politely, but she was still uneasy. He was the second man to stare fixedly at her this morning. Were Englishmen that unaccustomed to seeing a woman walking alone in the countryside? Maybe it aroused some primitive urge in them, as if she were a cow in heat.

Dr. Banbury’s voice distracted her. ‘May I help you up into the cab? It’s quite a high step.” Without waiting for a reply, he grasped her elbow and assisted her up.

“Thanks.” Laura hoisted her pack in behind her. “I really appreciate a lift though the water. I was about to take off my boots and wade.”

Dr. Banbury chuckled, and she was relieved at the change in his manner. “I have done the same many times,” he admitted ruefully. “Lest you be forced into another boot removal, I shall drive you through the next flooded area down the road. It is not as deep but it still impedes foot traffic.”

“That would be a great help. I didn’t know there was another. I’ve been staying at Torrington Manor, and Lord Torrington only mentioned this one.”

“I have just come from the Manor. Lord Torrington has quite a stable and I’m often there, seeing to one equine ailment or another.”

“He seems very concerned about his horses,” Laura commented. “The one called Senator was out last evening and he wasn’t pleased.”

“Ah! I heard about that. A young woman took him out apparently. It does seem odd. She returned him in fine condition, however.”

So Cat was a good horsewoman. Laura felt a renewed prickle of curiosity. Who was she, and what was she to Thomas?

“I’ve an excellent idea,” Dr. Banbury exclaimed as the truck splashed through the second flooded area. “Why don’t you come for a quick visit? My house is just down the lane to the left, and I have a lovely little art collection I like to show visitors.”

Laura hesitated. To get to her next destination in time, she should keep walking. Still, Dr. Banbury sounded so delighted with the idea of a visit that it seemed ungracious to refuse, especially since he had rescued her. The notion of a country veterinarian with an art collection sounded intriguing, too.

“That would be lovely,” she agreed. “I’m afraid I don’t know very much about art, but I would enjoy seeing your paintings anyway.”

“Excellent. It’s a pleasant little gallery. Many of my paintings are portraits of the fairer sex. Women make such wonderful subject matter, don’t you think?

“Fully clothed, of course,” he added hastily, and Laura smiled to herself.

The house was tucked into a gentle hillside and she liked it immediately. It was constructed of the local honey-colored stone and surrounded by flower beds, and farther out, lush pastures.

Dr. Banbury paused in the outer hall to remove his muddy boots, and Laura followed his example. Putting mud on these pristine floors would have been mortifying, and she wondered who kept them so clean.

“My housekeeper insists,” Dr. Banbury explained, seeming to intuit her thought. “She scrubs the floors relentlessly and lets me know in short order if I violate the rules.”

Laura followed him down the wide hall, past a small but beautifully furnished living room and into a study full of books and leather. “You have a lovely house,” she commented appreciatively.

“Thank you. I am very fond of it and it meets my needs admirably. It’s a good house to come back to at the end of a day in stables and surgeries and such.”

Reaching into his pocket, Dr. Banbury took out a key and unlocked a door at the opposite end of the room. “In here,” he said, gesturing for her to precede him. “I keep the room locked at all times, and no one goes in except in my company. Some of the paintings are quite valuable and I do my best to protect them.”

Laura felt a small shiver of apprehension. He sounded different again. His voice was possessive now, almost reverential.

He smiled sheepishly. “I know,” he told her, returning to his normal tone. “I act as if we were going into a church or some other sacred place. I love paintings, you see, and to have them all gathered here, by my own efforts, is for me almost a spiritual experience. I dreamed of this for many years, and then I finally managed to do it, or to begin the process at least.”

Laura smiled back at him, appreciating his honesty, and entered the room. Immediately, she too felt its potency. The lighting was perfect, and the paintings glowed. They looked very old. Many were portraits of women as he had said, but all had a wonderful combination of dark and very complex backgrounds, and brilliant color.

“They are marvelous,” she told him sincerely. “They glow, don’t they?”

“Yes. Partly it’s the lighting, but it’s also the paintings themselves. The old masters knew what they were doing.”

Laura let her eyes roam around the room. “They are truly beautiful,” she said reverently, “especially in a room like this, all together.”

“I am very glad you understand,” Adrian replied, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “It means a great deal to me when others understand.” He seemed genuinely moved by her admiration and Laura was touched. Adrian was a very unusual man, to combine this strong love of beauty with his more prosaic work with animals.

She gazed around again, taking her time as she surveyed the paintings. There were twenty at least, but they seemed to belong together, as if each had been carefully chosen for a quality that matched the others. It looked like an expensive collection, too, and the more mercenary half of her was curious to know how he could afford them. Veterinarians didn’t make that much - or maybe in England they did. She had noticed that in many of the towns around here the clinics for animals were much bigger and more modern than the ones for people. The English took their pets very seriously.

Her eye was caught by a small pair of paintings that looked rather like the ones Thomas had examined in Lord Torrington’s study. Before she could examine them closely, Adrian took her elbow and steered her toward another painting.

“This is a painting I especially want you to see,” he said, pointing at a portrait of a woman in a long dress of shimmering ivory fabric. She wore a wide-brimmed hat with floating streamers in deep turquoise green that set off her rich chestnut hair and the green tint in her eyes. “She is my favorite, the one I love best,” Adrian added reverently. The hushed, almost possessive tone had returned to his voice.

Laura stared up at the painting. The woman seemed to look back at her with wide-open eyes, as if delighted at what she saw. Laura found herself smiling. “She looks pleased with life,” she said, feeling a sense of kinship with the unknown lady. “As if she thinks one never knows what might happen next.”

“Exactly,” Adrian replied. “She is an impulsive creature, don’t you think? A curious one as well, who likes to find answers.”

Laura laughed. “That sounds like me.”

Adrian turned to look at her, and an odd little silence seemed to fill the room. Adrian finally broke it. “You understood immediately,” he said, and to Laura’s consternation, she saw tears in his eyes.

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean that so seriously,” she began, wanting to defuse the situation, but Adrian interrupted.

“That was why I stared at you so rudely,” he admitted. “You are extraordinarily like my favorite lady, even to the color of your eyes and hair.”

He sounded as if he were in love with the woman in the painting, Laura thought uneasily. She hoped he wouldn’t transfer the feelings in her direction. Maybe it was time to get walking again.

She looked at her watch. “Thank you for showing me your gallery, Dr. Banbury, but I must get back on the trail now. I need to get to Stourton, where I spend the night.”

“Adrian,” he corrected. “No need for formality between us. And may I call you Laura? Such a lovely name. I shall call my lady in the painting Laura after this. A serendipitous meeting indeed.”

“Thank you. That is a lovely compliment,” Laura said, edging toward the door. “You must know a good deal about art,” she continued as he locked the door again.

He smiled at her, looking normal again. “I have always loved fine art and so I have educated myself,” he explained. “It is not hard to do when you are motivated. A great deal of information is available.”

“Some of the people I met last night also knew a great deal,” Laura remarked. “Is that usually the case in this country?”

“Goodness, no,” Adrian replied with feeling. “Most people in England can’t tell one painting from another. Their ignorance is shocking.”

“I feel very ignorant myself,” Laura admitted.

“You will learn,” Adrian assured her. “Believe me, you will. Art is in you, I feel, and I can usually sense these things in people.”

Laura winced. He sounded like Donald now, always sure he knew what was best for her. She didn’t much like being
sensed
, as he called it, either.

Adrian opened the front door, and she inhaled the fresh air. Adrian and his gallery had been fascinating, but they both made her feel claustrophobic.

“Can you point me toward Withrington?” she asked. “It’s the next town on today’s walk, the one before Stourton. It should be along this road.”

“Withrington is only about thirty minutes from here on foot,” Adrian replied. “I can give you a lift into town if you like,” he added hopefully. “I would enjoy the opportunity to become better acquainted.”

“You are very kind to offer but I’m eager to walk now that the storm has passed,” Laura answered. “Thank you, though.”

Adrian looked disappointed but didn’t insist, to Laura’s relief. Instead, he escorted her down the lane and pointed to a walking path. “That path will take you to Withrington. It’s a much nicer way to get there than the road.”

Laura thanked him, glad to get away. The path led her up a long hill, and she stopped at the top to admire the view. Stretching beyond her were miles of countryside with small villages of golden Cotswold stone tucked into valleys or perched on hillsides. A field of rapeseed gleamed brilliant yellow below her; other fields lay idle but for cows and sheep and horses munching contentedly. It was like an enchanted world, one that was totally unexpected in such a populous country as England.

A narrow lane with stone walls on both sides led her into Withrington, one of the many market towns that were built at a time when wool merchants made great fortunes and invested them in churches and other town buildings. Laura strolled slowly along, enjoying the antiquity that surrounded her. Some of the houses lining the cobbled street were so old they leaned against each other at odd angles. Glorious riots of flowers spilled from their front gardens and from the enormous pots hanging above them.