‘None. Nothing at all. Not a trace.’
‘They’re probably back in London by now.’
‘I wonder,’ answered the Apothecary slowly. ‘I just wonder.’
Twenty-Three
By now it was high summer and an exultant day. John rose early, even before Elizabeth was awake, and going to the stables borrowed the most placid mount that she had in her collection. Then he rode through the burgeoning landscape at his own pace, taking in the beauty of his surroundings, glad to leave behind him the ugliness of recent events.
Beyond the estate lay long slopes of meadowland with, here and there, groups of tall trees. It seemed as if every bird in Christendom sat in their branches singing sweet praises to the deep blue sky. John reined in his horse and breathed deeply. The scents of lavender and sage, comfrey and wild roses filled his nostrils. There were harebells in the grass and in the shadow of the trees cattle stood at ease, munching the vegetation in solemn majesty. Looking up, he saw the sky arching above him, enormous, with tiny wisps of cloud flowing through the blue like the waves of a placid sea. John wished at that moment that he could stay like this, halfway between the earth and heaven, for ever, and be worried no more with healing the sick and investigating brutal, ugly death.
John’s horse moved abruptly, shying at a rabbit that ran close to its hoofs, and slowly he returned from his idyll and knew that he must continue on through the glorious landscape which looked as if it had just been painted by the imagination of a poet. Almost reluctantly he kicked his heels into the horse’s flank and headed towards the sea, whose wild seductive song soon came within earshot.
It had been his intention to call on Lady Imogen, acting in his role as an apothecary, and offer her some soothing medicaments to ease her pain. For now, since the revelation of Lord St Austell’s new will, she was high on his list of suspects. But much to his surprise he spied her limping along in the gardens down towards the restless ocean. She was thin and looked pallid, devoid of animation, yet there was something of determination in the way she made her way slowly downhill despite her recent wounding.
John dismounted and secured his horse to the branch of a tree. Then he approached her silently. She had not seen him and leapt with fright when he said, ‘Good morning, my Lady.’
‘Oh,’ she said, her hand clutched to her breast, ‘I didn’t see you. Have we been introduced?’
‘I was at your grandfather’s wedding feast but I am afraid we have not had a formal introduction.’ He bowed low. ‘Allow me to present myself. My name is John Rawlings and I am currently staying with the Lady Elizabeth di Lorenzi.’
She looked down her nose as only daughters of ancient lineage can do. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘May I converse with you for a moment?’
She hesitated, on the brink of refusing, but eventually said, ‘Very well. If you insist.’
‘I must offer my profound condolences on the loss of your grandfather, Madam. His death must have affected you very deeply.’
Very subtly her eyes changed, a hint of something glinting momentarily in the iris. ‘It was a great tragedy.’
‘Indeed. Together with the loss of your child…’
He hadn’t anticipated the lashing sting as her hand came out and slapped him hard on the face.
He gingerly fingered his chin. ‘I suppose I deserved that for being so blunt. But the fact is that I am an apothecary and therefore am more observant of these things than are most men. I humbly beg your pardon if I offended you.’
She stood silently, clearly weighing him up, then suddenly a voice called from beneath them. ‘Imogen, I’m here.’
They both turned, equally surprised, to see a robust countryman with a handsome ruddy face and big square shoulders, dressed like a keeper with gaiters on his legs and the inevitable dog walking at his heels, coming towards them from the lower path which led down to the sea. He spoke before either of them could say a word.
‘Oh my little love, what terrible thing has happened to thee?’
The Apothecary could have clapped his hands. For all her snobbish attitude and high-and-mighty manners, Lady Imogen was clearly having an affair of the heart with a man who could not have been more simple and homespun if he had tried. No wonder she had wept at the loss of her child. It had been her lover’s and nothing to do with her horrible grandfather after all.
The man turned his honest face towards Milady. ‘I am so sorry to have disturbed you, Lady Imogen,’ he said, giving an over-formal bow. ‘I had no idea you were going to meet anyone. I shall be on my way.’
‘No, Jessamy. I have much to say to you. Please stay.’
‘Well, ain’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’
‘I don’t really know the man.’
‘Then I’ll do so myself,’ Jessamy answered with an air of slight reproof. He held out a hand, hard with years of outdoor living. ‘How do you do, Sir. I’m Jessamy Gill.’
John bowed again. ‘John Rawlings, Apothecary, of Shug Lane, Piccadilly, London.’
Suddenly, in the face of this honest and artless man, Imogen’s possibilities as a suspect seemed lessened. She turned to the Apothecary, her expression stricken.
‘Please, Mr Rawlings, I beg you to tell no one at Lady Sidmouth’s home of my liaison with Jessamy. Nor mention it to anyone on the St Austell estate. My brothers would make my life intolerable if they knew.’
‘I realize I am aiming above my station, Sir, but I plan to give Imogen a good, clean life away from all the filth that her family engendered.’
‘I am sure of that. But tell me, how did you two meet?’
‘’Twas here at Lady Sidmouth’s place. I work for her. I’m the estate keeper. Lady Imogen was out walking one day… but I am speaking out of turn. She’ll tell you the tale if she wants to.’
John was amazed at the man’s frankness, his lack of inhibition, his total fearlessness in the face of someone who could be classified as the enemy. The keeper saw his look and interpreted it correctly.
‘Provided you keep quiet about what you’ve just seen, Sir, I plan to marry Imogen just as soon as she has recovered her strength. Then let her brothers come looking for us. I’m man enough to deal with them.’
And the Apothecary suddenly felt tremendously glad that the Earl’s granddaughter who — if rumour be true — had been brought up in degradation by a disgusting old man, had found this remarkable countryman with whom to share the rest of her days. Looking at them, he was suddenly seized by a warning premonition.
‘I think you should go now before they find out. I realize that you have only just risen from your sickbed, Lady Imogen, but if I were in your shoes I would lie very low at Jessamy’s cottage for a day or two before moving on.’
She spoke. ‘But Lady Sidmouth is caring for me. What will she say?’
‘She is a woman of the world and will accept it. Society might be shocked but surely you made that choice long ago when you decided to go away with your lover.’
‘He’s right, Imogen. I wouldn’t put it past your brothers to kidnap you and take you back to Cornwall with them. I think you have a simple decision to make, my dear.’
‘Can you leave Devon and get another position?’ John asked him.
‘Aye. There’s a big estate in Dorset that is looking for a gamekeeper. I know ’cos my cousin wrote me about it. We could make our way there, Imogen.’
She hesitated, on the brink of changing her entire way of life. Then made her choice by laying one of her hands in Jessamy’s.
‘I’ll go with you, if I may.’
‘Well done,’ said John. ‘Now leave before something bad happens.’
Having said their farewells they set off down the cliff path and the Apothecary watched their departing backs. Then an idea occurred to him.
‘Do you two ever walk on that tiny beach below late at night?’ he called.
