Briar Patch (26 page)

‘Well, help me get the goose up then, lass,' Ellen said. ‘Sit down at the table, Tom – unless you want a dressing on that hand first.'

‘It's all right,' Tom said. ‘Let's have our dinner and then I'll give you your presents.'

Roz wondered how Tom Blake and his family were spending Christmas Day. She knew that the work never stopped for small farmers. There was always the milking to do and the animals to care for, but at the end of the day they must surely have time to celebrate.

It was ridiculous to let herself think about him. She could never be with him, never share the same bed – or make love to him whenever she wanted.

Her thoughts were suspended as the door opened and Julia's maid Alice entered.

‘You should rest now, Mrs Rushden. You've sat here all day.'

‘Yes, I need to sleep for a while,' Roz agreed. ‘If Julia wakes and asks for me you must wake me.'

‘Yes. I'll call you if you're needed.'

Roz got to her feet. ‘Has my brother come home yet?'

‘No, Mrs Rushden.' Alice hesitated, then: ‘He often stays out for a whole night – sometimes more.'

‘It is not well done of him,' Roz said. ‘Remember I'm not far away and ready to come if she needs me.'

Leaving the room, Roz went to the chamber that had been hers as a girl. Julia had left things much as they always were because she'd said Roz was always welcome to visit.

It seemed strange going to bed in this house. Roz thought about her husband, sighing as she realized that she was quite happy to know that she could be sure of sleeping alone tonight. That wasn't fair to Harry but Tom had been too much in her thoughts.

Harry would never forgive her if he knew about Tom Blake. She could only pray he never had cause to suspect anything was wrong. If the child had his eyes and hair it would be fine – but what if the babe looked like Tom?

Roz wished she knew who the father was so that she could settle it in her own mind, but she really had no idea.

‘Forgive me,' she whispered to her unborn babe. ‘I shall love you, whoever you are.'

Locking her bedroom door, Roz undressed and then went to bed. She blew out the candle but it was a while before she slept.

It wasn't so very strange that Philip should stay out all night since he'd done it before, but she couldn't help wondering why he hadn't wanted to know how his wife and child had fared. His selfishness was beyond words.

It was the middle of the next morning when the housekeeper entered Julia's bedchamber and glanced anxiously at the bed.

‘How is the mistress?'

‘She was awake earlier and she had the tea and bread and butter you sent up, but she didn't want the broth. I think a nice piece of cold chicken later might tempt her appetite.'

‘There's plenty of roast meat, including capon and duck,' the housekeeper replied. ‘None of it got eaten yesterday. Shall I send up a sandwich or leave it on the plate with a little relish?'

‘I think that would be best – and I'll have the same.' Roz saw that the other woman hesitated. ‘Was there something else?'

‘The Reverend Jenkins is downstairs. He wants to talk to you.'

‘To me? I'll come down now. Julia is sleeping so she won't miss me for a while.'

‘I think there's something wrong, ma'am, but I don't know what.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Monks. I'll come immediately.'

Roz had a cold tingling at the nape of her neck as she went downstairs. Why had the vicar come to visit and what had the housekeeper sensed?

She walked into the small parlour and saw the vicar standing looking out of the window. He was obviously alert and waiting for her, because he turned as soon as she entered.

‘Ah, Mrs Rushden. Forgive me for calling this way at such a time but I thought it might be best if the news came from me rather than a stranger. You must prepare yourself for a shock.'

‘A shock? Has something happened to Philip? He didn't come home last night but I was told it has happened before.'

‘No, Mrs Rushden, it isn't your brother.' The Reverend Jenkins looked anxious. ‘Mr Rushden – your husband, has been murdered.'

‘Harry . . . murdered?'

Roz felt her knees go weak. She gave a little sigh and grabbed at a fragile whatnot for support, sending it and a china figure flying. The vicar sprang to her aid, helping her to the nearest chair.

‘Forgive me. I did not know how else to tell you. I was informed that Sir Philip was not here and I knew that your sister-in-law was ill . . .'

Roz shook her head, putting out her hand to stop him. She was stunned, disbelieving. She couldn't have heard him right. Harry couldn't be dead.

‘It is not your fault, sir. I can hardly believe – my husband murdered. Harry is dead? How do you know it was murder?'

‘He was shot more than once. It happened near that little cottage at the edge of your brother's estate.'

‘Why on earth would Harry be there? It doesn't make sense. When he left me he said that he was going home to look after my mother.'

‘Was your husband riding a horse, Mrs Rushden?'

‘Yes, I am certain he was – why?'

‘There were signs that a horse had been near the body but it was not there and the constable seemed to believe the motive would have been robbery.'

‘The constable? Did he find Harry?'

‘I discovered your husband early this morning. I had been sitting up with a dying parishioner all night and was returning home when I saw him lying there. I summoned help and your husband's body has been taken to a safe place for further investigation. The constable called to see me because he wondered where you were and I was able to tell him that you had been staying here. I asked if he would allow me to break the news. He will call to see you later, either today or perhaps tomorrow.'

Roz's head was whirling.

‘I don't understand why anyone would want to murder Harry.'

‘He had no enemies?'

‘None that I knew of. He was in business but I believe most people liked him.'

‘Then I dare say the constable was right and it was a violent assault with intent to rob.'

‘Yes.' Roz put a hand to her face. ‘Poor Harry. We should have been at home celebrating Christmas but I insisted on staying with Julia.'

‘You could not have known what would happen. As you say, he ought to have been on his way home.'

Roz felt tears trickle down her cheeks. She wasn't in love with Harry but she cared for him. To think of him being murdered was so terrible that she could hardly bear it. Standing up, she managed to thank the vicar and make some excuse. She needed to be alone to think.

Alone in her room, Roz sank down on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands. Harry was dead – murdered. Why? What had happened and why was he near the old cottage?

Silent, hurtful tears ran down her cheeks. Only last night Harry had been here promising to take care of Roz's mother and saying they would keep Christmas for when Julia recovered.

Roz went cold all over. Had Harry gone after Philip, intending to give him a thrashing? They might have quarrelled and . . . her thoughts came to an abrupt halt. She was sure that Philip had killed Carrie Blake – but was he so evil that he would have killed Harry? Harry's murder was hard enough to bear. If his murderer turned out to be Philip . . . it was too terrible to contemplate.

Roz would say nothing of her suspicions or fears to the constable when he visited her. She had no proof and it was up to the authorities to discover who had done this wicked thing.

‘I'm so very sorry, Harry,' she whispered. ‘I'm sorry you're dead. Sorry that I never loved you as you deserved. I'm sorry for everything.'

Roz's throat was tight with emotion as the tears flowed. Harry had been so proud of the fact that she was to have a child – and she did not know whether it was his or Tom Blake's. For a moment the unworthy thought that she was now free came to her but she dismissed it instantly. Harry was not even buried and he had been good to her in his way. Besides, Tom was married and the whole idea of a relationship between them was impossible.

Roz got up and washed her face. She was not sure what happened in a situation like this, but eventually the authorities would release Harry's body and she must arrange for his funeral when that time came. Until then, she would stay here with Julia. She could not face returning to Harry's house alone just yet.

Julia was sitting up against a pile of pillows and it was obvious she had been crying.

‘Roz, dearest,' she said and held out her hand. ‘Mama just told me. I am so very sorry. It must be terrible for you – and such a strain keeping it from me.'

‘Mama should not have told you. I begged her not to just yet.'

‘She was upset and I asked why.' Julia took her hand. ‘I am so very sorry, dearest. Have they told you anything? Do they know who might be responsible?'

‘The constable asked me if Harry had any enemies but I was unable to help him. I knew he had business associates but as far as I am aware everyone liked him.'

‘I am sure Harry was well liked. He was a kind, generous man – and he loved you. You will miss him, Roz.'

‘Yes, I do miss him already. You must know that it was not a love affair. I married him for a home of my own, Julia – but I did care and I would not have had this happen for the world.'

‘Of course you would not. Do you know why he was near that cottage?'

‘No – unless . . .' Roz shook her head. ‘He might have been looking for Philip that night. Harry thought he should be here with you.'

‘I wondered if that might be the case. It isn't like Philip to stay away so long, Roz. You don't think that . . .' Her words tailed off, her eyes dark with distress. ‘Philip wouldn't . . . would he?'

‘No, I'm sure he wouldn't,' Roz said. ‘I dare say he is feeling out of sorts and ashamed to come home after what happened on Christmas Day. If Philip hadn't insisted that you go downstairs . . . but there's no use pointing the finger. What happened, happened.'

‘I know . . .' Julia caught back a sob. ‘I love him, Roz. I know he is selfish and careless but I do love him.'

‘Yes, and I love you, which means that even if I thought Philip might have done something terrible I should not give the constable any assistance in coming to that conclusion.'

‘Oh, Roz . . .' Julia wiped her cheek as the tears rolled silently down her face. ‘We aren't very lucky, are we?'

‘We still have each other.'

‘Yes.' Julia hesitated. ‘Have they told you when the funeral will be?'

‘Harry's body has been taken to a chapel of rest and I may visit there. I can arrange things as soon as I wish.'

‘Does that mean you have to go home?'

‘I suppose I ought,' Roz said. ‘Mama is torn between staying here with you and coming with me. I told her she ought to be with you. I shall be perfectly all right.'

‘Could you not stay here – have the funeral from here?'

‘I think that might offend his family. Harry's cousin visited me earlier this morning and offered to make the arrangements. I was grateful and left everything to him. I must have the reception at Harry's home but afterwards – well, I am not certain. I may be homeless.'

‘Surely Harry would not leave the house to someone else?'

‘He has a cousin but as yet no son. I would not expect more than my jointure. I dare say there may be a house for me somewhere.'

‘If you cannot stay there you must come to us, Roz.'

‘If it were just you, Julia, I should be happy to live here – but not with Philip.'

‘I understand.'

‘I think perhaps I shall send for the carriage and return to Harry's house this afternoon.'

‘You are so strong. If I were more like you perhaps Philip would respect me.'

‘Philip is a fool and should I see him I shall tell him so.'

‘Please do not,' Julia said and smiled. ‘If I am well enough in a day or so I shall come and stay with you, Roz.'

‘Please, do as the doctor advises,' Roz begged. ‘I want you to be well again.'

Sixteen

It was bitterly cold in the church and people spoke of snow before morning. Harry Rushden had been respected and there was hardly a space to be seen as villagers, farmers and country gentry crowded in to hear and join in the service. Roz had Julia on one side of her, Harry's cousin Keith Rushden and her mother to the other. When the vicar intoned his eulogy, Julia took Roz's hand and held it. Hymns and prayers followed and then the family went outside to witness the internment.

Roz scattered earth and then threw a posy of Christmas roses on to Harry's coffin. Turning away, she saw Tom Blake standing at a respectful distance. For a moment their eyes met, then he bowed his head to her. Roz gave no sign that she had noticed. She was feeling numbed, unable to think clearly as she walked from the churchyard and allowed Harry's cousin to help her into the carriage.

‘It is the custom to read the will after the funeral,' Keith Rushden said. ‘However, if you wish we can wait for a few days. There is no hurry, Roz.'

‘I am able to bear it,' she said. ‘You have been very kind. I am grateful to you for all your help.'

‘Harry adored you,' he said. ‘He told me he never thought he would get you. I don't know why you married him, but he would expect me to take care of business for you.'

‘Thank you.'

The reception was tedious. Roz listened to condolences, made the appropriate replies and thanked everyone for coming. She was glad when the last of her neighbours left. Now there was only her mother, Julia and Harry's cousin – and the lawyer, who had come from Wisbech for the occasion.