It would all be fine, he told himself. No need to raise the alarm unnecessarily. Why court a reprimand for no reason? It was a bad decision, he vaguely knew.
Jay followed carefully after the couple as they walked, but there were so many people milling around. The laughter bore in on him like an insult; the music annoyed him, the sounds of happiness and diversion he wanted to swat away like an annoying plague of flies.
And he lost them.
What was he to do now? Except wait and hope — a reasonable hope, after all. A sensible hope, in fact, that after the hour was up Rosalind would reappear and the masked man would be seen, and spoken of, no more. A frightening dream only.
After nearly an hour and a half had passed, even Jay realised it was no dream and it was time to hand matters over to his betters. Reluctantly he went in search of his master, nervousness mounting as he went from courtyard to courtyard until he heard a familiar voice holding forth. He gathered up the tattered remains of his courage and approached.
‘I did my best, I really did. But she’s gone.’
Henary greeted this with silence: what was there to say, after all?
‘A man bowed to her. She curtsied back and they walked off together. There was nothing I could do to stop that.’
‘I suppose not. You couldn’t cause a scandal.’
‘I tried to follow them at a reasonable distance, just to make sure everything was all right, but I wasn’t worried. She was under the protection of Willdon, after all.’
‘Keep going.’
‘I can’t find them. I’ve looked everywhere. He was meant to bring her back to the place where they began but he didn’t. The hour was up ages ago.’
The full import of his failure was borne in on Jay by the look on Henary’s face.
‘Ages ago?’
‘At least three quarters of an hour now. I’ve been going around. I’ve asked many people if they have seen them. She’s just vanished.’
‘Was she upset or distressed when she left you? Had you said anything to annoy her? Do you think she decided to get back to this light she was talking about?’
‘We were having a lovely time, I thought.’
‘How was her attitude to you? Please answer carefully. This is of immense importance.’
‘She was perfectly friendly.’
‘Friendly? Only friendly?’
‘Yes. I mean, she was... friendly. I liked her a lot and she seemed to like me. I mean, she didn’t think I was rude to her. Not like the other one.’
‘What other one?’
‘The one she met in the forest before me. Kept on telling me how horrid he had been to her. She didn’t like him, and kept on saying how much she didn’t like him.’
‘Let me get this straight,’ Henary said. ‘She met someone in the forest before you? Before you saw her?’
‘Yes. I was jumped by the soldiers and arrested, and a short time later she came into the clearing where they’d found me. She’d met this man who ran off when he heard us coming.’
Jay discovered the first details about what had happened to Rosalind by presenting such a woebegone, miserable face to the world that it drew the attention of his punting companions of the previous evening. Dawn was coming on, the dream world conjured up by Lady Catherine was fading. Candles were guttering out and the air of melancholy which always attends such endings was beginning to fall over those who still remained. In the tents and courtyards, villagers were feasting, consuming the drink and food set apart for their pleasure. They were, in turn, paying for the kindness with raucous songs and dancing, jokes and tumbling, dissipating the refinement of the previous night. Through the gateway of ribald amusement, the guests passed back into normal life, where the last would drift off to sleep. Only Jay stood out from the crowd, a fact remarked upon by Renata, who waddled towards him with a happy greeting that swiftly enough changed to concern.
‘Why, whatever is the matter? You look so sad.’
‘Have you seen my companion anywhere? I cannot find her.’
‘Ah!’ she said. ‘A good cause of sadness, if ever there was one. I’m sure you will find her, mind.’
‘I’ve been everywhere,’ Jay replied. ‘I don’t know where she might be hiding. I’ve searched every pavilion, every part of the gardens.’
‘She is not in the gardens,’ Renata said. ‘Or at least, she may not be.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I saw her walking down that little track over there ages ago.’
Jay grabbed her by the arm. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. Who could mistake such a figure, such clothes? It was most certainly her.’
‘She didn’t say where she was going?’
‘We didn’t talk. I didn’t pay much attention really. I just noticed it.’
Jay pointed. ‘Down that path?’
‘That’s the one,’ she said. ‘She was with a man who walked off and left her standing there. A few minutes later she followed him.’
‘He didn’t force her to go? She wasn’t going against her will?’
‘Oh no. She was definitely following him.’
This made Jay feel even worse. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘Don’t aim too high, young student,’ she said in a kind voice. ‘Remember the tale of Gagary, who wanted to touch the stars, but fell to earth in a ball of fire.’
Jay did not hear her warning. He was already walking in the direction she had indicated.
30
Jack More was tired and ill-humoured by the time he arrived at the Retreat where Emily Strang lived. It was a mistake to go so soon; he should have waited to see if the hunt for Angela Meerson bore any fruit first of all. But he was mindful of Hanslip’s insistence on speed, so he decided a more direct approach was necessary. He would question the girl; if she was uncooperative, he could arrest her and interrogate her properly. His old colleagues would provide the space, and tell no tales afterwards.
It was a dangerous walk for the last mile or so; the Retreat occupied a strip of land only a few hundred yards wide and perhaps half a mile long, in between two accommodation sectors. One was evidently high-level, as the searchlights pointed outwards from the guard towers around the perimeter wall, watching for intruders rather than trying to spot criminal activity within. The other settlement was very different; the constant racket of helicopters flying over it, the thick barbed wire stretching along the top of the walls, the watchful guards patrolling outside were all signs of a low-grade unit, offering the most basic accommodation for those of the lowest value. They had to be watched lest they try to take more than their due, which was, as Jack knew, little enough.
The Retreat looked, if anything, even worse, scarcely fit for human habitation at all. A wall of concrete blocks stretched round it and the rusty steel door rattled from the impact of his fist when he hammered on it. With a bit of effort he probably could have pushed it in with his shoulder. A dog barked in response, then another. He bashed on it again, only stopping when he heard footsteps on the other side.
‘Who is it?’ The door didn’t open.
‘Just open up, will you?’