The Sudbury School Murders (4 page)

She cast me a questioning gaze, as though
wondering why I should bother. "A filthy Romany woman already tried
to see him. I sent her on her way."

I wondered who the Romany woman might
be--mother, sister, lover? I said nothing, only waited while the
woman assessed that I was not Romany but a gentleman.

"You come from the school?" she asked, still
doubtful.

"I am secretary to the headmaster."

This seemed to impress her. She opened the
door wider. "Mr. Rutledge is a fine gentleman."

I had my own opinion about that.

The woman led me through a low-ceilinged,
flagstone hall and out into a courtyard. At the back of this lay a
low stone building. It might have been a cheese house were this the
abode of a dairy farmer. At one time it probably had been. Now it
was used as a makeshift jail.

The plump woman unlocked and opened the door.
Sebastian sat on a stone bench in the back of a tiny room lit only
by a small, high-set window. I had to stoop to enter, and once
inside, I could not straighten to my full six-foot height.
Sebastian was as tall as I. He started to stand up, but I gestured
him to remain seated.

The young man did not look well. His face was
pasty, his breathing shallow. There was plenty of air in the room,
if a bit musty; the window was propped open to let in a breeze and
hint of spring rain.

The woman did not close the door. She stood
in the yard, arms folded, as though she were a sentry. The prisoner
would have to go through her, her stance said, if he wanted to
escape.

Sebastian may have wanted to escape, but he
looked in no condition to do so. He hunkered on the bench, hugging
himself.

I looked pointedly at the woman, and she
looked back at me, hands on hips. I pulled the door shut, closing
it in her face.

She never moved. I imagined her outside
facing the closed door, hands on hips, waiting for me to open it
again.

I turned to Sebastian. "Are you well?"

"Captain." Sebastian spoke in a low voice,
his Romany vowels slurring, "I cannot stay here."

"Well, you will have to at least until after
the inquest," I said. "I warn you, you might have to face the
magistrate after that. Rutledge has taken against you."

He looked up at me, his face gray. "I will
see the magistrate, I will face him, I am not afraid. But I cannot
stay here. I cannot breathe. The walls. . . " He gestured with a
shaking hand.

I thought I understood. This was more than a
Romany man's dislike of being indoors. Sebastian must have an
unnatural fear of enclosed places. I had met a man in the army with
such a malady, a lieutenant. The man was brave-hearted in battle
and could rally his troops like the best general, but put him in a
cellar and he developed cold sweats and clawed his way to the
door.

"I am willing to help you get out," I said.
Sebastian looked up at me with dark-eyed hope, like a seasick man
who believes shore might be near. "But you must tell me exactly
what you did last night. I need the entire truth."

Hope receded. "I cannot."

I sat on the bench beside him, tired of
bending my head. I rested my hands on my walking stick. "Did you
meet with Miss Rutledge?"

He looked alarmed. He avoided my eye, bowed
his head. "I will not speak."

"Do not be so pig headed," I said. "Dying
nobly on the gallows to spare your lady's name would be foolish and
help no one."

Sebastian stared at me in amazement.
Suffering for love was noble--at least that was fashion these
days--especially when that love was forbidden.

I softened. "I know, Sebastian. When I was
young, I too fell in love where I should not have."

He looked skeptical, but I spoke the truth.
My father had expected me to marry a rich man's daughter. I instead
had fallen in love with a young woman of little fortune. What's
more, I'd eloped with her, with the help of my friend and mentor,
Aloysius Brandon.

Carlotta had regretted marrying me almost
right away. One day, three years into our marriage, she'd left me.
I had not seen her since. James Denis knew where she was. Last
summer, he had offered the information of her whereabouts to me. I
had refused, knowing that he had only offered to make me obligated
to him. He'd told me once that he would win the enmity between us
by making me owe him too many favors to oppose him.

Often in the night when I lay awake, fighting
off melancholia, I was very tempted to go to Denis and beg for the
information. I wanted to find her. I wanted to look into Carlotta's
pretty eyes and demand, Why did you leave me?

If I found my wife, I'd also discover what
had become of my daughter. Was Gabriella still alive? Was she
happy? Would she remember me?

I had not yet succumbed to the temptation to
sell myself to Denis, but I was coming close.

"Tell me," I said to Sebastian, my tone
severe, "everything you did from the time I saw you yesterday
afternoon until now. The entire truth. The sooner you tell me, the
sooner you can leave this room."

Sebastian shuddered. His face shone with
perspiration. "Very well." He wet his lips. "I did my duties in the
stable as usual. I cleaned the tack and brushed the horses, then
helped feed and bed them down for the night. No different from any
other day."

"And Middleton? What did he do?"

"He asked about you."

I stopped. "Did he?"

"Asked about you and why you were here. Did
you know him?"

"I'd met him once," I said carefully. "In
London. What was he like?"

Sebastian shrugged. "Kept to himself. Came to
Sudbury to enjoy the country life, he said. But he didn't much like
dirtying his hands. He left the messy work to us. I didn't mind
because I like moving among the beasts. He knew that I could handle
a horse, no matter what, better than any of his other lads."

"Did Middleton speak much to anyone else at
Sudbury?" I asked. "Rutledge? The pupils?"

Sebastian shook his head. "He watched me and
the other stable hands whenever we saddled horses for the students.
Sometimes he'd talk to the boys while they waited, but not much.
Only one of the tutors rides much, Tunbridge, I think his name is.
And Miss Rutledge rides."

His eyes took on a soft look. I imagined that
was how he and Belinda had met, Sebastian saddling her mount and
her looking on, young and pretty in her riding habit.

"What happened last night after you finished
your duties?" I persisted.

Sebastian took a breath. "Mr. Middleton said
he was going into Sudbury to the pub, and not to look for him until
late. I was glad, because Miss Rutledge sent word that she wanted
to see me. I went to her."

So Belinda had indicated. "You are a pair of
brave fools," I said. "What time was this?"

He thought. Sebastian would probably not own
a watch and likely could not read the time anyway. "The clock at
the school struck ten, I think. I walked to the canal and down the
towpath. Miss Rutledge had told me to meet her around the first
bend past Lower Sudbury Lock. There is a stand of trees there that
would screen us from the school."

"How did she send the message? Did she write
you?"

He shook his head. "I cannot read. She sent
her maidservant."

"Unfortunate," I said.

He looked indignant. "Bridgett loves Miss
Rutledge."

"Perhaps, but even if Bridgett would die for
her mistress, tongues slip. But go on. Did Miss Rutledge meet you
as planned?"

He nodded. "She came late. The clock had
struck the half hour before I saw her. Bridgett came with her. I
was glad. I would not have liked her out in the dark, alone."

"In that case, you should have sent word for
her to stay home."

His eyes were anguished. "But I craved to see
her. Her father guards her well."

In a school filled with boys and a handsome
young Romany in the stables I could hardly blame Rutledge. I
reflected, though, that in this instance, he'd not guarded her
sternly enough.

"So, she arrived, and you met her. What did
you speak about?"

He smiled. His smile was dark and roguish,
and had my daughter lived with me, I'd certainly set a guard on her
day and night. "In truth, sir, little. My heart was full, I
couldn't think of what to say."

I would have accused him of reading too much
poetry had he been able to read at all. "I must ask you directly,
are you and she lovers?"

He looked almost shocked. "No, sir. She is an
innocent. I would never touch her, never."

The pair seemed too romantic to be true. I
had been a bit romantic about Carlotta, but my craving for her had
not been merely in my heart. I'd proposed to her in a Norfolk
meadow; when she'd said yes, I'd laid her down and made sweet love
to her then and there.

But then I'd married her right away. Our
families had been furious, but society had accepted the
marriage--we'd been of similar background and class, and our
alliance was no worse than any other. Sebastian and Belinda, on the
other hand, would be thoroughly condemned. Belinda would be ruined,
received nowhere, her family could shun her--living death in a
world that valued honor and social standing above all else.
Sebastian's own family would likewise not be pleased.

"Well, at least you were sensible in that
regard," I said. "How long did you stand and gaze at each
other?"

His face darkened. "Not long. We were
together twenty minutes, I think. She was gone before the clock
struck the hour again."

That took us up to eleven o'clock. "What did
you do then?"

"I stayed near the canal. I did not want her
reappearance at the school to be connected to mine, if someone
should see her return from her late walk."

"Very sensible of you. How long did you
stay?"

"I do not know. I was deep in thought. Then I
decided not to return to the stables, but to visit my family." He
gave me a defiant look, as though I would not believe him. "I knew
they were moored down the canal near Great Bedwyn, so I walked that
way. I boarded their boat, and we shared food and wine and
conversation. It was good to see them."

Some Roma traveled up and down the canals in
boats with all their worldly goods, much like other Roma traveled
overland in caravans. They would take odd jobs and buy food and
wine from any that would sell it to them.

I sometimes envied the gypsies their freedom,
although I knew it was not true freedom--they lived hand to mouth
and could not give it up when they liked.

"Did you stay with them all night?"

"A good part of it," Sebastian said. "I
argued with my uncles--they do not believe I should work for the .
. . English." He paused before he said
English
, and I knew
he'd suppressed a more derogatory, Romany term. "But I want to have
maybe a better life. Not hungry, not stealing."

"I understand," I said. "What then?"

"We argued for a while, then I left the boat
and walked back to the stables."

"What time did you arrive?"

He bowed his head, stared at his fingers. "I
think the clocks had struck two."

"Did you see Middleton?"

He looked at me, shrugged. "No. I thought
he'd gone to bed. It was very quiet. I went to sleep."

He'd have had no reason to check that
Middleton had actually returned. I let that go.

Sebastian went on. In the morning, he'd began
his duties as usual, turning the horses out to the yard while he
mucked out stalls. At about dawn, one of the stable hands had
dashed in, looking horrified, and said that Middleton had been
found dead in the lock.

Sebastian's story sounded plausible and was
probably true. Unfortunately, however, the story provided ample
gaps of time in which Sebastian could have met Middleton, killed
him, and disposed of his body in the lock.

Even if Belinda dared admit that Sebastian
talked with her between ten-thirty and eleven o'clock, there was
still the time he waited on the canal bank, the time it took him to
walk to his family's boat, the time he'd spoken with them, and the
time he'd walked back to the stables. He had stood right next to
the lock in question, lost in thought, which was not good. A canny
magistrate could poke plenty of holes in his story.

On the other hand, his very vagueness spoke
of his innocence. If Sebastian were guilty, would he not come up
with a story that accounted for his whereabouts every minute?

His family would no doubt confirm that
Sebastian had visited them, but would a magistrate believe them?
Would a jury?

I sighed. "Did you see anyone, anyone at all
in your journey up and down the canal? Hear anything?"

Sebastian shook his head. "I heard only
noises of the night. I saw no other person."

Most helpful.

I rose, remembering in time to duck my head
in the low-ceilinged room. "I will do what I can to help you,
Sebastian. I cannot promise it will be easy, but I will help."

"Do not tell the magistrate about Belinda,"
Sebastian pleaded quickly.

He was a handsome lad. A girl constantly
bullied and sheltered by her father would seek solace in the smiles
of an attractive man who admired her. But theirs was a doomed
love.

"I hope we do not have to." I paused. "Who
was the Romany woman who tried to visit you?"

Sebastian started. "Woman?"

"The constable's housekeeper told me that a
Romany woman came to visit you, but the housekeeper would not let
her see you."

Sebastian's mouth was open. He looked pale,
but that might still be his fear of the enclosed room. "My mother,
most like," he whispered.

I could always ask her. Questioning the Roma
would be my next task.

"A piece of advice, Sebastian," I said. "When
you face the magistrate, tell the truth. Stick to the truth, do not
try to embellish and do not avoid answering a question. If you stay
with the truth, the person lying will eventually be revealed. Do
you understand?"