Nottingham smiled and inclined his head. ‘Perhaps we should go in the drawing room, sir.’
The man snorted but agreed.
‘Can my man go and get some water for the horses while we talk?’
Gibton gave a curt nod. ‘Go round to the kitchen,’ he instructed.
The Constable raised his eyebrows at Sedgwick, then followed the baron.
‘Now, what is it? I don’t have time to keep talking to you.’ He was standing by the fireplace, the portrait of him and his wife over his head. The picture caught the man’s arrogance well, Nottingham thought, the haughty, upturned jaw, the innate, unquestioning sense of superiority. There was no trace of the grace, the goodness and looks they’d had when younger.
‘When your daughter had intended to visit that last time, I gather you sent the servants away.’
The baron gave a small grunt. ‘I knew that girl must have talked to you.’
‘Is that why you dismissed her?’
‘Not really,’ Gibton said casually. ‘She wasn’t good at her job. There’s no point in paying servants who won’t do the job properly.’
‘But she did tell me the truth?’
‘Yes,’ he admitted reluctantly.
‘You didn’t mention that before, my Lord,’ Nottingham said impatiently. ‘I’m looking into a murder. The murder of your own daughter. That means I need the truth, and all of it, please, however painful it might be.’
Gibton waited a moment before answering. ‘Would it have made any difference, Constable? It’s a very private, delicate matter. And I told you, Sarah never arrived here.’
Nottingham said nothing, but stared at Gibton. Outside, the rooks cawed loudly in the trees. Finally the man gave in and shook his head.
‘When my wife has an episode it can sometimes be easier with no one else around. She can become very difficult.’
The Constable sensed how much it had pained him to make that admission, especially to a social inferior.
‘And how bad was this attack?’
‘Very bad indeed,’ he answered gravely. ‘It was the worst she’s ever been, in fact, and that’s in many years. That’s why I needed to send the servants away for a few days. As soon as I could see what was happening and how severe it was likely to become I told them to go. I didn’t want them seeing her like that. They’d have lost all their respect for her.’ He said it as if that was the most important thing in the world.
‘What happens to her?’ Nottingham asked.
Gibton looked at him, and the Constable guessed he was assessing how much to reveal. Finally he shrugged.
‘My wife has never had the easiest of tempers,’ he began. ‘She doesn’t suffer fools well. But with one of these episodes it usually begins with a bad headache, so bad she has to take to her bed. Then she’ll become loud and sometimes she’ll be violent.’
‘Violent?’ Nottingham hadn’t expected that.
‘Yes. She lashes out. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she doesn’t remember it afterwards. She’s hit me before and she’s very strong then, she’s out of control. So perhaps now you see why I told the servants to leave.’
‘How do you treat it?’
‘I’ve learned over the years. I’ve had doctors in.’ He sighed in resignation and for a moment looked like a lost, ordinary man. ‘Nothing they’ve given her has helped. About the only thing I can do is tie her to her bed when it happens.’
‘I’m sorry,’ the Constable told him.
The baron raised his head, and for a passing moment Nottingham could see all the years of pain in his eyes. Then Gibton gathered himself, straightening his back.
‘I’m trusting that none of this will go beyond these walls,’ he said.
‘You have my word,’ Nottingham promised. ‘How long does an episode last?’
‘Sometimes an hour or two, sometimes longer. This last time it was a full day. She didn’t recall a thing.’ He paused, considering. ‘Maybe that’s a blessing.’
‘How is she when it’s over?’
‘She sleeps for hours and when she wakes up it’s as if nothing had happened. It just takes her some time to come back to herself.’
The Constable walked over to the windows and looked outside. The day was still, the sun shining and peaceful, but inside the house the atmosphere was gloom and darkness, and always would be.
‘Where’s your wife now?’ he asked.
‘She’s in her room,’ Gibton said.
‘I’d like to see her, if I might.’
‘I don’t think-’ he began, but Nottingham was shaking his head.
‘You have to understand, my Lord, anyone can say anything. I’m not doubting your word, but I need your wife to confirm it.’
The man tightened his mouth then agreed.
‘I’ll have the girl call her,’ he said, and left the room.
Nottingham returned to the window and sighed. What he’d heard had been heartfelt and sad. But he knew it wasn’t the complete truth.
There was enough of it in there to try to keep him off the scent. But Gibton was hiding something, and it was more than just embarrassment and pain at his wife’s madness.
And madness was certainly what it sounded like. It bore out all the tales about the woman. He sighed, not relishing the idea of meeting her but knowing it was necessary. Through the glass he could see Sedgwick ambling lazily towards the stables. He tapped on the window. When the deputy looked his way, he tilted his head questioningly and received a nod in return. Nottingham smiled.
Gibton returned, his hand supporting his wife’s elbow. She was a small, thin woman with a pinched face and eyes like gravestones, looking at the Constable with a dark suspicion that verged on outright hatred. It was hard to believe that she’d once been a beautiful girl. All the grace and loveliness she’d supposedly possessed when she was young had been chiselled away by bitterness.
‘My Lady,’ he said with a small bow.
‘My husband says you need to talk to me,’ she addressed him in a voice as cold as last winter. ‘I assume you have a good reason for this disturbance.’
‘I do.’ Nottingham gave an easy smile. ‘Would you sit down, please? And you, too, my Lord.’
They glanced at each other but did as he asked, arranging their clothes carefully to avoid creases.
‘Now,’ she said through thin, tight lips, ‘what is this?’
‘First, I’d like to remind you that all these questions, all this inconvenience, have a purpose,’ the Constable began, a new fire in his voice. ‘I’m trying to discover who murdered your daughter.’ He paused, watching the couple, hoping for a reaction. But their eyes never left his face, hers burning, his quietly attentive. ‘I’ve been shocked by the way you’ve taken her death so calmly. If my daughter had been killed I’d have done everything in my power to find out who did it.’
‘You’re not us,’ Gibton told him, the haughtiness back in his voice. ‘Don’t presume to try and understand what we feel. Just because we choose not to show it doesn’t mean we don’t grieve. And unless I’m wrong, finding the person who did this to Sarah is your business. As the mayor has reminded us every time we’ve asked, you’re supposed to be good at your job.’
‘He doesn’t look as if he could be good at much,’ Lady Gibton commented, eyeing him up and down with distaste.
Nottingham took a deep breath.
‘Tell me, my Lady, did you know that your daughter was planning on leaving her husband and running away with her lover?’ He let the question hang a moment before plunging on. ‘That’s the same lover she had before she met Mr Godlove, the one you made her give up.’
Laby Gibton stood up and came near. She needed to look up to talk to him.
