The Lovegrove Hermit (7 page)

‘Then there’s all the nastiness – the coroner nosing around and I’m told the corpse will be conveyed to the laundry when he has seen it. A corpse in the laundry – just imagine!’ She shuddered. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking of. I do hope Colonel Hartley manages to hush it all up.’

‘Elinor is staying in her room,’ I said, when she had paused for breath. ‘She has had a very bad shock.’

‘She’s
had a bad shock? What do you suppose I’ve had? She hasn’t had all the bother of hiring a hermit and getting him installed and maintained.’

‘But she found the dead body,’ Sophie interposed, ‘that must have been horrid.’

‘I did not ask for the opinion of an immature girl. Miss Tyler,’ she looked at me for the first time, ‘can you take her somewhere – I find her distracting.’

I took Sophie by the arm and led her out of the door.

‘Distracting!’ she exclaimed indignantly. ‘That poor man is dead and all she can think of is her own inconvenience.’

‘Let us get away as far as possible.’

‘I wish that meant we were going home to Fairfield.’

‘So do I but I fear we’ll have to remain here until after the inquest.’

‘When will that be?’

‘Only the coroner can decide. He has to view the body and hear the opinion of the doctor.’

‘Was it very horrid?’

‘Pretty bad.’ I opened the side door of the house and we stepped out into the fresh air.

It was a relief to escape from overwrought emotions into the tranquil park. The morning was so bright, so warm and still that it was difficult to believe such a violent act had taken place in such beautiful surroundings. We followed our path to the lake, but on the side furthest from the hermitage.

‘Look there – I think that’s Colonel Hartley waving to us. I like him, don’t you?’ said Sophie.

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘I’m glad he is the magistrate. I thought Sir Ralph would be.’

‘Colonel Hartley was the local magistrate before the Denbys came here – and his father before him. Yes, he wants to talk to us.’

The Colonel had begun walking towards us along the side of the lake so we set out to meet him. We met near one of the seats that overlooked the water.

‘I very much wanted to see you,’ he said. ‘I hope neither of you is too distressed by what has happened.’

‘Poor Elinor is dreadfully upset,’ said Sophie, ‘but then, she found the body. Then Aunt Charlotte went to have a look to make sure she’d not made some sort of mistake.’

He looked at me gravely. ‘That must have been very shocking for you.’

‘Not the worst shock I’ve ever had, but bad enough.’

‘I think I may need your help, Miss Tyler. Sophie, do you think you could run back to the house and fetch your aunt’s sketchpad and pencil?’

She needed no encouragement; glad to be of assistance she hurried off.

‘How can I be of use?’ I asked.

‘I may need a helping hand – literally as I have only one of my own. I know I can rely on you to be absolutely discreet. Sir Ralph means well but he’s a great fusspot and seems to have no idea how matters like this should be conducted. It was all I could do to stop him blundering round the cell, picking things up and moving them. He wanted to remove the body but I told him we must wait for the coroner.’

‘I find it difficult to believe Brother Caspar shot himself a few hours after I had a pleasant conversation with him.’

‘Indeed – tell me about it.’

I related the encounter of the previous afternoon.

‘He seemed perfectly at his ease – quite good-humoured in fact and we walked back to the hermitage together. He saw you’d sent him a bottle of wine and he remarked he’d have a cheerful supper.’

‘You saw the wine?’

‘Oh yes – the bottle had been left just inside the entrance to the cave so that it was in the shade.’

‘But I sent him no wine yesterday.’

‘He certainly thought it was from you. Did anyone else ever send him any?’

‘I think he’d have told me if they did.’

‘I heard the shot at about two this morning just after the stable clock struck the hour.’

‘Really?’

‘And – this is odd – it was followed a few minutes later by a splash as though someone had thrown something into the lake.’

‘Have you told anyone of this?’

‘No. I heard two shots in the middle of the night about a week ago and I mentioned it to Sir Ralph, but he said it was probably the gamekeepers. He didn’t seem very concerned.’

‘Please say nothing to anyone about this. It may be
important
. There is something not right about the whole business. Like you, I find it difficult to believe this was a suicide but I have no proof it was anything else. Poor man – his was a tragic life and a tragic death, but not, I feel, self-inflicted.’

‘You knew him well?’

‘I don’t think anyone knew him well. I shall, of course, make known his true identity which I could not do during his lifetime. He has kin in Devonshire who need to know and of course, the coroner must be informed.’

‘And you know why he hid himself away from the world like this?’

He nodded. ‘His real name was James Rushworth and eight years ago he was my colonel and I was a mere captain, both of us serving in the Peninsula. I need not go into the whole miserable business at this stage but he was held accountable for the escape of a French garrison. Everyone knew that he was not to blame. A certain general was mainly responsible. He had passed on the orders far too late and when they eventually arrived, Rushworth, I must admit, panicked a little. Lord Wellington thought we were
much nearer to the fortress than was actually the case. He had a low opinion of the general, who had been foisted on him by the Horse Guards and was little more than a
half-witted
drunkard. Whether Wellington ever knew what had actually happened is debatable. Anyway, he criticized the regiment in his official despatch for allowing the garrison to escape. Rushworth was not mentioned by name but he took it as a personal affront. He asked for an inquiry but that was denied.

‘Rushworth was not, I feel, of the right temperament to make a good soldier. He was immensely brave and did his duty with great devotion but he was too sensitive, too
thin-skinned
. He brooded and moped and even contemplated suicide.’

‘
Then
?’

‘Oh yes – though of course I was not told until long afterwards. Instead he sold his commission, quit the army and returned home. One of the majors was promoted colonel and two years later, after a few deaths, I gained the colonelcy of the regiment, which went on to redeem itself over and over again. The sad episode that had blighted Rushworth’s career receded into the past but it still loomed large in his mind. The shame – or what he perceived as the shame of his disgrace – went with him. He chose to change his name and disappear. He wandered about the country, taking employment here and there: as a clerk, as a tutor, as a fencing master….’

‘But he had family in Devon?’

‘An uncle who owns a large estate. Rushworth was his heir. Another man might have shrugged off the whole sad business and started again. Few people in England would
know or understand or even care what had happened. Rushworth could not do that. He eventually saw the
advertisement
for a hermit, knew that I lived somewhere near and came to see me. I secured him the post, as you know.’

‘He struck me as being very melancholic but yesterday evening he seemed perfectly serene.’

‘I think his life here suited him. He had no decisions to make, no responsibilities, peace and quiet in pleasant
surroundings
and plenty of fresh air and good food. He seemed content and told me he was happier than he had ever been. That does not mean he was quite free of the depression that troubled him – it was something he had suffered all his life and was unlikely to disappear completely.

‘When we’re able to enter the cell after the coroner has seen the remains I would like you to make a sketch of the interior. There are also some questions I’d like to ask you, if you’ve no objection. I’m sorry to put you through this but I can hardly approach Miss Denby.’

‘Of course not, I’m perfectly willing to help. I would like to be of use.’

Sophie arrived with my sketching materials. ‘Here you are – please don’t make me stay indoors. Lady Denby is still complaining and the whole house is in chaos. It’s so gloomy in there and so peaceful out here, despite what has happened.’

‘Yes, I’d rather you stayed with me,’ I said, ‘at least for the present. But first, I’d like you to go to the kitchen and ask the cook to prepare a picnic basket for us – and for Colonel Hartley, who will otherwise have to go hungry.’

‘Not for the first time in my life,’ he grinned.

‘But not in England in peacetime, I hope. Sophie, I think
you’d better ask for a maid to bring the basket out to us here on this bench.’

‘Do you think Lady Denby has turned against me?’ said Sophie, hopefully. ‘She was decidedly unpleasant.’

‘No, I think that was a temporary fit of irritation. I’m sure she’ll be gushing over you again very soon. You are
important
in her scheme of things.’

‘Sophie and Rowland?’ enquired Colonel Hartley when she had gone. ‘I thought there was some such scheme in
operation
. I doubt if it will come to anything. I fancy Rowland will surprise us all before he is finished.’

‘Really?’

But he said no more on the subject and we were
interrupted
by the Colonel’s manservant, Sam Bates, who brought us the news that the doctor and the coroner had arrived together and required his presence. I liked the look of Sam Bates, who had served with the Colonel’s regiment in the Peninsula and at Waterloo. He had a rough, open,
weather-beaten
face and a simple, direct manner. He was obviously someone to be trusted.

Colonel Hartley excused himself and I found myself alone for the first time that day; indeed, for the first time – the hours of sleep excepted – since I encountered Brother Caspar yesterday. It felt like an age ago and the horrors of the morning seemed quite unreal.

Sophie returned at last with a story to tell. ‘The hamper will be sent,’ she said. ‘Cold ham and chicken, a little salad, a strawberry tart and a pot of cream. Oh, and spruce beer and lemonade.’

‘Thank you – that sounds ideal for a hot day.’

‘Everything is in uproar. The poor maid who takes the
hermit his food was in hysterics. “Such a nice gentleman!” she said. “treated me so kindly – spoke to me as though I was a lady!” Then she threw her apron over her head and refused to be comforted. So I thought it best to ask for
something
simple that wouldn’t need much preparation.’

‘That was very sensible of you.’

‘Then I decided to get something to read from the library – we don’t know how long we will be stuck out here. I
overheard
the most almighty row going on between Lady Denby and Mrs Thorpe. They were in the study next door and I could hear them shouting at each other, even through that heavy oak door. I got the impression that Mrs Thorpe was tired of Lady Denby’s complaints and told her to shut up. Then her ladyship started telling her a few home truths. I distinctly heard her say: “You are a perfect disgrace and behaving like a common trollop!” Imagine! Now, if
I
shouted like that you’d tell me I was unladylike.’

‘And so you would be. Lady Denby is a law unto herself and I strongly suspect Mrs Thorpe is not a lady.’

‘Then I suppose she’ll take herself off and Frank Lawrence with her, which would be a pity – he’s amusing. Still, I suppose it will get her away from Papa, which is more important. On the other hand, you said we’d probably all have to stay here until after the inquest.’

‘Inquests are usually held fairly promptly,’ I told her. I reflected that a falling-out between Lady Denby and her old friend might, as Sophie supposed, lead to her early
departure
from Lovegrove. However, I did not trust her and felt sure that if this happened she would concoct some scheme for seeing my brother again.

After the remains of the supposed suicide were removed to the laundry, Colonel Hartley asked me to accompany him to the hermitage. Sophie, who was anxious to help, was given the task of drawing the outside of the cave.

We went inside. ‘I hope this will not be a painful
experience
for you,’ he said, ‘and if you’d rather not do this, please say so.’

‘No, I’m quite prepared.’

‘Then tell me first, if anything has been disturbed in any way since you entered this morning and found the corpse.’

‘I don’t think so.’ My eyes took in the bed, where the pillow had been covered with a cloth, and then I noticed the open box of pistols on the floor. One remained inside but the other was missing.

‘Where—?’ I began.

‘Preserved as evidence. But the box was there when you entered? Sir Ralph started moving it away.’

‘Yes, I’m sure that’s where it was.’

‘Then can you make a sketch of the room, exactly as it is?’

‘I will try.’

‘And another thing, if the recollection is not too
distressing, can you show in your sketch how the body was lying when you saw it? I will help you.’

I drew the room first, leaving blank the area where the body lay.

‘It looked,’ I said, ‘as though he was seated on the side of the bed to shoot himself and then he fell backwards.’

‘Quite so.’ He moved behind me and watched me begin to sketch the dead man. Then he took the pencil from my hand.

‘I’ve done some drawing myself in the past but you are so much better at it than I. Fortifications and battlefields are more in my line. Now – the pistol had fallen from his hand and lay here.’ He made a swift sketch. ‘Does that look right to you?’

We completed the picture between us, exchanging the pencil from time to time. I found it quite disturbing to find him standing so close with the front of his coat brushing against my back and his sleeve against my arm. There was an occasional, unavoidable contact of fingers.

‘I think that will do very well,’ he said at last, moving away. ‘So we have a record of the scene as it was when you saw it this morning. Now, there are one or two other things which require your assistance. Could you pick up the
pistol-box
and put it on the table over here? Thank you – now close the lid.’

He produced a piece of cord from his pocket with two keys hanging from it.

‘My friend Rushworth wore this round his neck. What with his beard and the cowl of his habit it would have been quite hidden. One key is to the trunk; the other, smaller one, to the pistol box. Let us try it in the lock.’ He attempted to turn the key.

‘As I thought, it doesn’t fit. I can’t say I ever observed the box very closely, but I felt sure this was different, and so it is.’

‘But who would change the pistol box?’

‘And the pistols. Whoever shot him.’

‘You really think he was murdered?’ There seemed to me a vast chasm between disbelieving someone had committed suicide and actually suspecting murder.

‘Yes, and there’s more than one reason, but not enough to achieve such a verdict at an inquest. I mentioned my
suspicions
to the coroner but he was rather dismissive.’

‘But why do you suppose he was shot by someone else?’

‘Firstly, my friend was right-handed yet the bullet entered the
left
temple and the pistol lay near his left hand. Secondly, he once told me he had attempted suicide but couldn’t do it. He had placed the muzzle of the pistol in his mouth but could not bring himself to pull the trigger. That is the only sure way to do it. Let me show you.’

He opened the box, took out the remaining pistol, checked to make sure it was unloaded and then held it to his head. ‘Quite heavy and awkward to hold steadily like this. The other way would be used by someone accustomed to firearms as he was.’

‘But I can’t understand why anyone would want to change the pistols.’

‘For speed, simplicity and certainty. The cell was left open and there was no lock on the door. Anyone could have entered and examined the contents as I believe you did, unwillingly, with Rowland Webb. The murderer saw the pistols and then planned for his victim’s apparent suicide. If he had used Rushworth’s own pistols he would have had to
unlock the box but he had no key and did not know where it was. If he had forced the lock it might have aroused
suspicion
. Besides, he would still have had to load the pistol by lantern, light which is not easy. I think he drugged the wine so that his victim was in a deep sleep but he still had to act quickly. It would have been much easier to buy
another
box of pistols, as much like the original as possible, load the gun in daylight at his leisure—’

‘The shots I heard that Sir Ralph said were gamekeepers—’

‘He was trying them out. Then he reloaded – came down here a few nights later in the early hours of the morning – found poor Rushworth unconscious – shot him through the head as he slept on his right side and arranged his body to look as though he had done the deed himself. Then he carried Rushworth’s box to the lake and disposed of it. Now, I’ve noticed the absence of any wine bottle so I can only assume it was thrown away at the same time as the box.’

‘But how could anyone be sure of finding a box of pistols similar to the ones the hermit owned?’

‘Easy enough, I imagine. Many half-pay officers will have sold their pistols. I’ve no doubt they can be purchased at any gunsmith’s. They are all much the same. Richer officers sometimes had various embellishments but most were
perfectly
plain. I never saw Rushworth’s firearms – only the box and that was as nondescript as this one you see here. He had removed the brass plate with his initials; the same has been done to this box, you’ll notice, but I’d swear the plate here was bigger.’

He sighed. ‘I can’t
prove
anything, of course. I’ve no doubt the verdict will be suicide and the poor fellow deserves
better. This was a miserable, shabby way to die and the villain must be brought to justice somehow.’

‘Do you think the murderer bought the pistols locally? If so, might it be worth visiting gunsmiths in neighbouring towns?’

‘Indeed it might. That’s a very good idea and well worth pursuing.’

I picked up the copy of Goldsmith’s
Poems
which lay on the table and this time I looked inside the front cover. As I thought, it bore the name of Elinor Denby.

‘Would it be in order for me to take this back to Elinor? It is her property and I can’t see it has any bearing on what has happened.’

‘Yes, I’m sure that’s all right. You know, another thing has occurred to me. Most suicides leave letters to their family and friends – at the very least a scribbled note. I’m sure Rushworth was no exception.’

‘There is one matter above all that I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘I suppose anyone could come here to commit the crime, but why? What could possibly be the reason for killing so harmless a man? He hurt no one and he had nothing.’

‘Even so, there could be a motive – there always is. Rushworth had a past – another life before he came here. Anyway, now we have done all we can in this place I must go and see what is happening in the laundry. I’ll make sure the hermitage is guarded and Sir Ralph is arranging to have a chain and padlock fitted to the door.’

‘Would it be worth looking in the trunk?’ I asked.

‘I was going to leave that until later, but as I have you here and you are willing to help….’

The trunk held little of interest. There was a dressing-case
containing shaving tackle – not that he needed any at Lovegrove – clothes, boots, brushes and combs. At any time he could have shaved off his beard, cut his hair and dressed normally. I suggested that he had not entirely given up the hope of returning to everyday life.

‘That may be so,’ said Colonel Hartley, ‘but he never
mentioned
it to me.’

Matters became more interesting when we discovered a false bottom to the trunk, which, when lifted out, revealed a bundle of papers tied with tape and closely covered with writing. I handed them to the Colonel, who said, after a hasty glance, that they seemed to be a detailed account of Rushworth’s part in the escape of the French garrison.

There was also a small watercolour of a handsome country house and a miniature of a dark-eyed young woman with a lock of hair in the back, several bundles of letters and documents, a leather wallet containing banknotes and a purse full of money including guineas.

‘I wonder who the girl was?’ I said.

‘The love of his life, I believe. She married someone else while he was in Spain.’

I reflected that I would have waited years for Harry and at once dismissed the unknown woman as shallow and flighty. But of course, I did not know the circumstances.

‘Here’s his last will and testament,’ I said, handing the document to my companion.

‘Made about a year ago and witnessed by two of the
gardeners
. He leaves all his personal possessions to me – not that they amount to much – but he expresses the wish that I might eventually have printed the vindication of his conduct in the war.’

‘You said he had an uncle.’

‘Yes, in Devonshire. That little watercolour must be a picture of the house. He would have inherited everything eventually. I must write to the old man – even though the two hadn’t met for years it will still be a shock.’

I collected all the items in the bottom of the trunk together and, having found the basket in which I had made my offering of fruit, put them neatly inside, covering
everything
with one of Brother Caspar’s handkerchiefs.

‘This will be easier to carry,’ I said. ‘I presume you don’t want these things to be left here for others to find.’

‘No, certainly not. You are remarkably thoughtful. I am glad you were here with me and not the coroner or Dr Stringer or the village constable – even Sam Bates. You understand.’

I thought he seemed moved; the calm, controlled
demeanour
cracked a little as he struggled to control emotion. ‘Poor, unhappy soul!’ he said. ‘If he was going to die I wish to God it had happened in battle. This was unworthy of him.’

‘At least he found peace here,’ I said quietly after a pause, ‘and I’m sure your friendship meant a great deal to him.’

‘I hope so.’ He seemed to master himself and gave me a quick smile. ‘We must not waste time. There is one last thing I wanted to ask you. I would not presume to question Miss Denby concerning her discovery of the body. Anyway, I doubt if we could learn anything from it. I gather she is very distressed?’

‘Greatly so but she seemed ready enough to confide in me. I was going to see her again as no one else seems to bother with her, so if you’d like me to talk to her—’

‘If you don’t mind. I find it strange that a young girl would
enter a man’s room like that. Are you sure she didn’t know poor Rushworth a little better than her family supposed?’

‘You have made an astute guess. She unburdened herself to me and I promised not to tell but as you’ve worked it out for yourself I must admit you are right. It was a friendship; no more than that, I am sure.’

‘Of course, Rushworth would never have taken advantage of an innocent girl. See if you can find out if he had said anything that might indicate a threat to his life or if he saw some stranger in the park. Perhaps she noticed a particular depression of spirits or signs of anxiety – anything of that sort.’

I nodded and we left the cell.

Outside we found Sophie waiting impatiently and the village constable hovering discreetly at a distance, talking to Sam Bates.

‘At last!’ cried Sophie. ‘I finished my sketch ages ago. Here.’ She handed it to Colonel Hartley. ‘It’s not as good as Aunt Charlotte’s, I’m sure, but at least you can tell what it’s supposed to be.’

‘It’s excellent – just what’s needed. Thank you, Miss Tyler Junior. It only needs Miss Tyler Senior to mark on it where the bottle of wine was found and it is all complete.’

I think he expected me to put a cross but I added a tiny drawing of a bottle. He laughed and thanked me and went off to the laundry to see what was going on.

Sophie watched him walk away. ‘I think that when I
eventually
marry I’d like it to be someone like Colonel Hartley. Younger, of course, and with both arms.’

‘I will keep a lookout for his double,’ I promised her, ‘though I doubt if we’ll find it.’

‘You were in the cell a very long time. What were you doing?’

‘I made a sketch and we looked at the pistol box,’

‘Ah, that must have been the locked box that puzzled me.’

‘And we went through the hermit’s trunk. Nothing of extraordinary interest – clothes, mainly, and bundles of papers which are in that basket that the Colonel gave to Sam Bates.’

‘Is that all?’ Sophie looked quizzical.

‘What else could there be?’

She shrugged. ‘I’m sure if I’d been shut in there with Rowland he’d have attempted to take liberties.’

‘I’ve no doubt he would and I trust you’d give him no such opportunity. But then, Colonel Hartley is a gentleman and I’m afraid Rowland, for all his swagger, is not.’

As we made our way back to our bench I told Sophie I intended to visit Elinor again before dinner.

‘Would you like me to come with you?’

‘No, I think it would be better if I saw her alone. She’s more inclined to confide in me if no one else is there, I’m sure you understand.’

Sophie nodded. ‘She’s such a strange girl, I’m still not sure if I like her or not. I feel sorry for her having to put up with that awful stepmother and her horrid friend. Sir Ralph is pleasant enough but he doesn’t do anything to help.’

‘Ah, that brings me to the question I was going to ask you. What would you say to asking Elinor to come back to stay with us for a few weeks? I’m sure it would do her the world of good and I think she’d open out a little in sympathetic company. We might even be able to do something about her clothes and hair.’

‘I think that’s a lovely idea,’ said Sophie generously.

‘You are a dear, good girl and you deserve the best husband in the world!’