The first pink flush of dawn had risen over the thatches and was shining full on the doorway when Maud died.
Chapter Forty
The swell of briny tide was ebbing and the sand sparkled with salt. A jellyfish, like a small blob of melting wax, leaked its separate strands, washed up, its wilted arms reaching across the pebbled shallows. Gulls picked over the stones, snatching up the dead and dying. Clouds hid the sun.
“Back to the inn then,” Jerrid said. “They say the Fox and Pheasant serves a plentiful dinner, but since the inn is full, if we’re late we’ll only get the left overs.”
“We’re already too late,” Nicholas said. “We might as well finish the day out here, and head back for an early supper. Then it’s one more night in this wretched place before heading home tomorrow at first light.”
“For pity’s sake,” his uncle said, “you’ve searched every cove and every inlet. There’s nothing to find here. I’m as hungry as a fox myself, and pheasant sounds like a good choice for dinner.”
“The Fox will no doubt serve an excellent supper too.”
The Fox and Pheasant did indeed serve an excellent supper, with a wide choice of platters. They were first at the table, and Nicholas chose corns of salt beef in a wine sauce with boiled onions, roast goose stuffed with peas, a small custard tart in lemon cream, duck livers with sage and garlic, a pattie of herbs, bread fried in beef dripping, and finally a dish of spiced leeks. There were no apple codlings.
David had joined them and was once again discussing with Jerrid the possibilities and probabilities concerning the attacks some days past, when Nicholas tossed his napkin to his platter and stood, stretching his back. “I’m for bed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t wake me when you come up.”
Jerrid grinned. “Outdone by an old man, eh, boy? It’s barely supper time and the sun isn’t yet in bed, yet you’re eager for yours?”
“I’ve better things to dream of than you have, uncle,” Nicholas told him, “so have more reason to sleep.”
With the light still finding some passage through the windows, he had no need of a candle as he headed for the stairs. But it was heavily shadowed and at first he did not recognise the woman walking down towards him. Then he recognised the squeal.
“Mercy,” squeaked Sysabel, “It’s Nicholas. What are you doing here? What have you done with my brother, you villain? And what have you done with poor Emma?”
Hearing the noise, Hilda had hurried down to her mistress, and it was her feet that Sysabel sat down on as she collapsed backwards onto the step behind her. Nicholas stared in bewildered alarm. He took the steps in two strides and took his cousin by her shoulders, shaking her. “Idiot girl, what are you talking about? Why in heaven’s name are you here? And I’ve certainly not seen Emma. Where is she?”
Hilda burst into tears, Sysabel began to howl and Avice appeared at the top landing, shouting, “Oh, thank the Lord, it’s really you, Nicholas. Oh, Nicholas, you have to save her.”
Nicholas grunted, “What the devil?” and Jerrid and David rushed from the parlour as Avice ran down to where Nicholas was still holding Sysabel.
She pushed past Hilda and said urgently, “Somewhere private, quick, I have to explain everything.”
They sat back at the table, platters pushed aside and food ignored. Avice hurried past the explanations of how and why they had all decided to leave the house in the Strand, abandoning her mother to his father’s inevitable irritation, and added briefly how Emeline had been eager to find Nicholas and warn him of possible danger. With one eye to Sysabel, she did not dare say what they had thought the danger might be, but instead began to describe how, once settled in the Fox and Pheasant, Emeline had gone outside to see to their sick groom. Certainly Bill had seen her, but she had not returned to the inn and by ten of the clock both Avice and Petronella had gone to look for her. They had discovered nothing, and still with no sign of her, had been out all that day searching.
Once Avice had tumbled through her story, Sysabel said, “Of course it was Adrian who rescued us all yesterday. But then he went away with his friends and hasn’t returned either. Now I know he’s in terrible danger.”
“What from? Magpies?” demanded Jerrid.
“From you,” wept Sysabel, “and from Nicholas, and I know you’ve done something horrid to Emma.”
“Emma,” said Avice, her voice suddenly low, “has been taken hostage. It’s only minutes past that I got a message from some village bumpkin, saying he had permission from some monastery or other. He said there’s a village not far from here, and there’s an outbreak of the pestilence with half the folk dead or dying. I have no idea why Emma is there, or why she would ever visit such a place, but the messenger said she can’t leave the village, or she’ll spread the contagion and must stay where she is. He left in a hurry. I just grabbed my cloak and was about to follow him when I heard Sysabel screaming at you.”
Nicholas stood so suddenly his chair fell backwards, He turned to Avice as David leapt up beside him. “Avice, watch over this fool of a girl and don’t let her leave. I’m going to get my wife.”
“The pestilence? Don’t bring her here,” moaned Sysabel.
“Quiet,” Nicholas ordered her, “or I’ll have you silenced. Not one word of this must be spread to others. No hint to any one, remember, not to your groom, to the tavern staff, or anyone else. Now, which village?”
Avice shook her head. “He wouldn’t say where. That’s why I wanted to follow the man.”
“I’ll find her.”
“But the pestilence. And Bill, our guide, is sick above the stables. Alan went for the doctor but the doctor refused to come.”
“Alan Venter’s here? Good. Jerrid, get my fool of a cousin into her bed, and keep her there. And what’s this about Adrian?”
“He was here and he’s coming back.” Sysabel had stopped crying and was trembling with fury. “He’ll – defend himself. With his life. And me too.”
Nicholas nodded to his uncle. “I have no idea what the child is raving about, but no doubt you can deal with her, uncle. If Adrian returns soon, tell him to wait for me, as I may need his help. In the meantime, it’s only Emma I’m concerned with.”
He strode from the parlour and headed out towards the stables. Jerrid called to David. “You’re going with him? Excellent. But you’d best get up to the bedchamber first and grab the boy’s sword and cloak. I’ll cope with everything here. You look after Nicholas.”
“I always do, sir,” David said, and left at once.
Without hope of escape, Emeline had remained at the cottage for most of the day. For two hours she had slept, but no more, her fear and her misery keeping her beyond tiredness. When she woke, she gazed past the guttering ashes, and saw the dead woman now held tight in Ralph’s embrace. He had taken her in his arms as she died, the last pitiful gurgle of her breath all spent. Then he had leaned forward and clasped her, and rocked her, and began very softly to sing.
He looked once at Emeline. “It’s our little lullaby,” he explained. “We sang it to our baby when he cried, poor mite, though Maudie were losing her voice, and just croaked the words. Then she got the delirium, and I comforted our Dickon alone in the day, though gived him to her for feeding and then to hold all warm at night.”