Heartstone (60 page)

‘That is so. Though my father moved to Winchester when he became feodary of Hampshire.'

‘Do you ever visit there now?'

‘Not since my mother died ten years ago, God rest her. It was her family who came from those parts. Do you have connections there, Serjeant Shardlake? I do not recall hearing your name before.'

‘I have a client who thought he may have family in Rolfswood. He asked me to visit, see if I could trace them. I went there a few days ago.'

‘Did you find them?' Edward smiled pleasantly, though his eyes were keen as ever.

‘No. But I stayed overnight, learned of a tragedy there nineteen years ago. A foundry burned to the ground, the founder killed with one of his assistants. The founder's daughter went mad afterwards. Their name was Fettiplace, that is the name my client was looking for. Your father was coroner then, I believe.'

Edward considered. ‘I remember it vaguely. I was not at home then, I had started at Cambridge. I did a degree before going to Gray's Inn,' he added proudly. ‘I seem to remember my father helped the girl, who went mad.'

‘That was good of him,' I said neutrally. I thought, I have seen enough of your father to see there is no shred of charity in him. I remembered Reverend Seckford telling me how Priddis had supervised Ellen's forced removal from her place of safety.

‘He is not as hard as people think,' Edward said stiffly. ‘He does a difficult job.'

‘There is another family I heard of, that you may know. The Wests.'

‘Oh yes, they are important landowners. Mistress West has always ruled the roost around Rolfswood. Did you meet her too?'

‘I only heard of her and her son. He is an officer on the King's ships now. Philip West. He would have been about your age.'

‘I met him once or twice when I was a boy. But I returned seldom after I went to Cambridge. You seem to have made detailed enquiries, Brother Shardlake.'

‘It was an interesting story.'

Edward brought his horse to a halt and surveyed the landscape. ‘In truth, sir, I think it impossible to tell what trees once grew here. The old trunks are all overgrown. And we are approaching a little too near the treeline for my comfort.'

‘Look at the new young trees growing up,' I answered quietly. ‘Fully half must be oaks. And see all the high old oaks in the forest ahead.'

Edward made a show of looking carefully, though I was sure he had noticed everything I had. Then he turned to me, and asked quietly, ‘What do you wish to achieve from this case, Master Shardlake?'

‘Justice for Hugh Curteys. It is clear to me this land was mainly forested with oak, though Master Hobbey's accounts show oaks as barely a quarter of the trees felled.'

‘Yet Hugh Curteys himself said, at the Guildhall, that he is quite content.'

‘He is a young man with no head for business. And when these woods were felled he was a child.'

‘So you would go back to the Court of Wards and ask for what - restitution? It would take great time, Brother, and expense, trouble to a whole family, including Hugh, that has just suffered a great tragedy. A surveyor would have to be paid for, and he would likely find nothing conclusive. Consider, Master Shardlake, is it worth it? Especially when Master Hobbey has offered to be more than reasonable over costs.'

‘You know of his offer?'

‘Brother Dyrick told me, just before we left.' He raised his heavy eyebrows. ‘He seems greatly fumed with this matter.'

I met his gaze. You and your father took a cut of those profits, I thought. But I had already decided to accept Dyrick's offer. Without Hugh's support I could do nothing. But there was no need to commit myself just yet as we had to stay here anyway. ‘I will think more on it,' I said.

He shrugged. ‘Very well. Even so, I think you know you must settle. And now may we go back? I am anxious Father does not get overtired.'

‘Very well.'

As Edward turned his horse I caught him smiling secretively, sure the case was over.

WHEN WE RETURNED the house was still and hushed, old Priddis sitting alone by the empty fireplace. He looked up. ‘Well, Edward,' he asked, ‘is all well with the woodlands?'

‘Master Shardlake and I have had a sensible discussion.'

Sir Quintin gave me a long stare, then grunted. ‘Help me, Edward, I would get up.'

Edward helped the old man to his feet. Sir Quintin stood, breathing heavily, his useless arm swinging by his side. The whiteness of his withered hand reminded me of poor Abigail's dead face, and I had to suppress a shudder.

‘I have had enough of this place,' Sir Quintin said pettishly, ‘everyone in such a state. I want to get away.'

‘Very well,' Edward answered soothingly. ‘I will prepare the horses. By the way, Father,' he added lightly, ‘Master Shardlake has visited Rolfswood. He was talking of that tragedy at the foundry - you remember, when you were coroner?'

Sir Quintin's eyes narrowed and he looked at me hard for a moment. Then he waved his good hand and said, ‘I barely remember it, it was an age ago. I have dealt with so many cases in my life. Come, Edward, help me outside.' He leaned forward, staring into my face. ‘Goodbye, Master Shardlake. I hope you will see the sense in letting this matter drop. These people have enough trouble, it seems to me.'

I went up to my room, stood looking out of the window at the butts. I had learned nothing from the Priddises. I felt helpless frustration and anger. There was a knock on the door, and Barak came in. He seemed anxious.

‘How are the family?' I asked. ‘None of them was in the great hall.'

‘Fulstowe told me to get out of the house shortly after you left. But as I was leaving a rider arrived with a letter for you. I hoped it might be more news from London, but I don't recognize the hand.'

He reached into his doublet and pulled out a piece of cheap paper, crudely sealed with wax. My name and ‘Hoyland Priory' were scrawled on the front. I opened it.

‘Is it from home?' Barak asked eagerly.

I shook my head. ‘No.'

The note was in a scrawled hand, it was dated 12 July, the day before, and signed John Seckford, Curate of Rolfswood.

I PASSED BARAK the note. He read it, then handed it back, looking at me hard. ‘What the hell does he mean?'

‘I don't know.' I paced the room. ‘Something serious. I could ride there tomorrow and come back the next day - Wednesday - the coroner won't be here before then.'

He said quietly, ‘You're glad we can't go home tomorrow, aren't you?'

‘That's not fair,' I answered, all the more hotly because his words had struck home. ‘We would have gone but for Abigail's death. How could I know this would happen? And you cannot think I am glad that poor woman was killed. Even though an inquest may reveal what has been going on here.'

‘All right. But part of you is still glad, isn't it?'

‘Here is a chance to solve both matters.'

‘You forget there may be a battle eight miles south of here any day now. And, if we lose, French troops may be marching up that road and in here. It's a fine property for soldiers to loot.'

‘That risk we are stuck with. But-'I looked at him - ‘I will go to Rolfswood alone tomorrow.'

‘Oh, I'm coming,' Barak replied in definite tones. ‘I'm not staying by myself in this madhouse.'

I KNOCKED ON the door of Hobbey's study. He said quietly, ‘Come in.' He was sitting at his desk, watching the sand run through the hourglass. I realized it was the first time I had ever been alone with him. I felt a stab of sympathy. Within two days the secret of his son's illness had been exposed and his wife murdered. He looked bereft.

‘Well, Master Shardlake,' he asked with a sigh, ‘did you and Master Priddis ride the woods?'

‘We did.'

He waved a hand. ‘Perhaps you could discuss it with Vincent. I cannot concentrate just now.'

‘I understand. Sir, may I express my condolences for your poor wife's death? God rest her soul.'

He lowered his eyes, then said, in a voice suddenly full of emotion, ‘Everyone disliked poor Abigail. I know they did. But you should have seen her when I married her, she was so pretty, so light-hearted. If she had not married me -' His voice trailed away.

‘How are the boys?' I asked. I thought, in a normal family Hugh and David would have been with Hobbey, they would all have been comforting each other.

‘David is in great distress. Fulstowe is with him. And Hugh-' He sighed. ‘Hugh is about the house somewhere. Sir Luke is organizing a search of the woodlands, by the way. People from the village are helping, they are much disturbed at the prospect of some madman roaming the woods. Sir Luke suggests none of us leave the house and gardens for now.'

‘Has Ettis been taken in for questioning?'

‘Yes. He hated this family.' Hobbey frowned. ‘Vincent says that if there is no trace of a stranger in the woods, he must be a suspect. Surely that must be right.' He frowned. I thought, Dyrick will be running things here now, Dyrick and Fulstowe between them.

‘Well,' I answered quietly, ‘it will be up to the coroner when he arrives. The reason I came, Master Hobbey, is to tell you a messenger has brought a letter from the Sussex village where I have another matter in hand. I plan to go there tomorrow, then return the following day to see the coroner. I know he will need to speak to me and Barak as first finders.'

‘Very well,' he replied without interest.

I hesitated, aware that what I had to say next should really be said with Dyrick present. But it was eating away at me. ‘Last week, sir, I accidentally overheard you and your wife talking in her room. She said she did not want to have the hunt, she indicated she did not think it was safe.'

Hobbey was silent a moment. Then he spoke, without raising his head, but slowly and clearly. ‘My wife had become afraid of everyone and everything, Master Shardlake. I told you before, she was not well. She had come to feel that nothing and no one was safe.' He picked up the hourglass, stared at the falling sand, then up at me, a strange expression on his thin face. ‘All my life,' he said slowly, ‘everything I have striven to build, those I have loved, everything is running out, like the sand in this glass. Do you believe in fate, Master Shardlake, in nemesis?'

‘No, sir. I do not understand how God orders the world, but I do not think it is like that.'

‘It all began with you coming here.' His voice was still quiet, his tone strange, one of mild curiosity. ‘This wretched case. I doubt David would have had his fit without it. You encourage my tenants to rebel; do not deny it, I have my informants in the village. And now my wife is dead. I wonder if perhaps you are my nemesis.'

‘I wish to be no one's nemesis, Master Hobbey.'

‘Do you not? I wonder.' Still he spoke quietly, but now he looked at me, his eyes suddenly as sharp and questing as they had ever been. ‘Well, perhaps I am wrong, perhaps it started with Michael Calfhill, with -' A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he seemed to come back to himself. ‘We should not really be discussing such things without Vincent here,' he said, his tone formal again. ‘I will see you in two days, Master Shardlake.' And he nodded dismissively.