"And then I thought I should cough, or something, in case they noticed me standing in the shadow. So I took a lot of steps backward and advanced more noisily, so to speak."
"I believe he is capable of grave robbery," said Blackadder, tight-lipped.
"I know he is," said Leonora Stern. "There are all sorts of rumors, in the States. Things that have disappeared from glass cabinets in little local collections, you know, curios of particular interest, Edgar Allan Poe's pawned tie-pin, a note from Melville to Hawthorne, that sort of thing. A friend of mine had almost persuaded a descendant of a friend of Margaret Fuller's to sell a letter about her meeting with English writers in Florence, before her fatal voyage--full of feminist interest-and Cropper turned up, and offered a blank cheque, and was refused. So the next day, when they went to look for the MS, it had gone. It was never traced. But we think he's like those mythical millionaires who pay thieves to get them the Mona Lisa and the Potato Eaters-"
"He feels they are really his, perhaps," said Roland, "because he loves them most."
"A kind way of putting it," said Blackadder, turning the original Ash letter in his hand. "So we are to assume a private, inaccessible inner cabinet of curios that he turns over, and breathes in at the dead of night, things no one ever sees-”
“So the rumour goes," said Leonora. "You know how it is with rumors. They waft, they burgeon. But I think this one has some foundation. I know for a fact that the Fuller story is true."
"How are we to stop him?" said Blackadder. "Tell the police? Complain to Robert Dale Owen University? Confront him? He'd brush off the last two, and the first is a bit ridiculous-they've not got the men to mount guard at a grave for the next few months. If we put him off now, he'll just give up graciously and try later. We can't get him deported."
Euan said, "I've rung his hotel, and Hildebrand's house in the country, and found out a few things. I pretended to be their lawyer, in a hurry with important information, and got told where they really were. Which is, the Rowan Tree pub, on the North Downs, near, but not very near, Hodershall. Both of them. That's very significant."
"We should alert Drax, the vicar," said Blackadder. "Though that's not much use, he hates all Ash scholars and poetic trippers."
"I think," said Euan, "this may sound melodramatic and toujours Mr Campion, but I do really think, that we have to catch him in the act and take whatever-it-isfrom him."
A pleased rumour ran around the room. Beatrice said, "We can catch him in the act before he desecrates the grave."
"In theory, in theory," said Euan. "In practice, we may need to safeguard whatever there is, if there is anything."
"Do you think he thinks," asked Val, "that the end of the story is there in that box? Because there's no reason why it should be. There could be anything or nothing, in that box."
"We know that. He knows that. But these letters have made us all look-in some ways-a little silly, in our summing-up of lives on the evidence we had. None of Ash's post-1859 poems is uncontaminated by this affair-we shall need to reassesseverything-the reasons for his animus against the spiritualists is a case in point."
"And LaMotte," said Leonora, "has always been cited as a lesbian-feminist poet. Which she was, but not exclusively, it appears."
"And Melusina, " said Maud, "appears very different if the early landscapes are seen as partly Yorkshire. I've been rereading. No use of the word 'ash' may be presumed to be innocent." Euan said, "How are we going to foil the body-snatchers, which
I take to be the main purpose of our meeting?" Blackadder said doubtfully, "I suppose I could invoke Lord Ash.”
“I have a better idea. I think we set spies and watch him.”
“How?”
“I think if Dr Nest is right he must be going to dig soon. And
I think if two of us stay in the same pub-two he doesn't know at all-we can alert the others-or if necessary confront him alone, follow him to the churchyard, stop his car with a legal-looking piece of paper-we shall have to play it by ear. Val and I could go. I've got a bit of holiday. And you, I believe, Professor Blackadder, have an order preventing the export of Ash's papers until the Heritage Advisory Board has decided what to do-"
"If he could be stopped from disturbing their rest," said Beatrice. "I do wonder," said Blackadder, "what is or was in that box.”
“And for whom it was put there," said Maud. "She leads you on and baffles you," said Beatrice. "She wants you to know and not to know. She took care to write down that the box was there. And she buried it."
Val and Euan left first, hand in hand. Roland looked at Maud, who was immediately engaged by Leonora in an intense conversation and a series of demonstratively forgiving hugs. He found himself leaving with Blackadder. They walked along the pavement together.
"I've behaved badly. I'm sorry."It's understandable, I believe."I felt possessed. I had to know."Did ye hear about the posts ye've been offered?"I don't know what to do."You've got mebbe a week's grace. I've spoken to them all. Sung your praises.”
“That was kind.”
“Your work is good. I liked that piece 'Line by Line.' A thorough piece of work. I've got funding for a full-time research fellowship, on Ash. If you're interested. A spin-off, I believe you'd call it, from the screen appearance I made. A Scottish philanthropic trust run by a lawyer who turns out to be obsessed with Ash."
"I can't decide what to do. I'm not even sure I want to stay in academic life.”
“Well, as I said, you've got a week. Drop by, if you feel like discussing the pros and cons.”
“Thanks, I'll think a bit, and then I will."
Chapter 28
The Rowan Tree Inn stands about a mile outside Hodershall, in the shelter of a curve of the North Downs. It was built of flint and slate in the eighteenth century, and is long and low, under a mossy slate roof. It fronts a meandering road, now modernised and widened, which cuts across largely bare downland; across the road, a further mile up a long grassy track, is the Hodershall Parish Church, built in the twelfth century, squat and stony, also under a slate roof, with an unassuming tower and a weathercock in the shape of a flying dragon. These two buildings stand apart from Hodershall village, behind the arm of the down. The Rowan Tree has twelve bedrooms, five along the main road front, and seven more in a modern annexe, built in the same local stones, behind the original building. It has an orchard, with tables and wooden swings for summer visitors. It is mentioned in all the Good Food guides.
On October fifteenth it had few visitors. The weather was warm for the time of year-the trees still had their leaves-but very wet. Five of the bedrooms were taken, two of them by Mortimer Cropper and Hildebrand Ash. Cropper had the best bedroom, over the solidly handsome front door, looking out to the track to the church. Hildebrand Ash was next to him. They had been there a week, and had gone for long tramps along the Downs in all weathers, well protected with high boots, waxed jackets and portable parkas. Mor-timer Cropper said, once or twice in the bar, which was panelled and dark, with shining gold hints of brass and dark green shades on its discreet lights, that he was thinking of buying a home in the district, a place in which to settle and write for part of the year. He visited various house agents and looked at various estates. He was knowledgeable about forestry and interested in organic farming.