‘What time was this delivered, Matty?’
‘Not long after you went to church.’
I showed Elizabeth the note.
‘You had better go to him,’ she said after reading it. ‘Poor Mr Turvey. He’s been a good friend to us. We must help him, if we can.’
‘You will not come?’
‘Later. I must see to Hector first.’
So Fidelis and I went ahead to New Manor, where we found Thomasina in the Chamber Major. Her bath chair had been wheeled into position in front of one of the tall windows, and from here she gazed out across the garden.
I sat close to her on the window seat and asked after her father.
‘We have not seen him since he went out, earlier this morning.’
‘He was at Horntree’s funeral and seemed very affected.’
‘He did not come back here afterwards.’
‘Do you know the reason for this apparent grief?’
‘I can’t see that it was grief. My father is not a man to rejoice over a death, but this one would not have made him very unhappy, I think.’
Fidelis, who had been idly inspecting the array of family portraits, now joined us at the window.
‘What was the origin of the quarrel between your father and Mr Horntree?’ he asked.
‘It was a very old grudge, Dr Fidelis, which I’m sure started when that man first bought Hatchfly Hall. I was quite small then. I cannot explain why they quarrelled, as my father made a vow never to mention the man and so could not tell me.’
Sukey entered the room.
‘Oh, Sukey,’ said Thomasina. ‘Is the kettle boiling? Will you make these gentlemen some coffee?’
‘Ha!’ cried Sukey with a light ironical laugh. ‘Do you think we have money for the likes of coffee?’
‘Then what have we?’
Sukey came to the child’s side and stroked her hair.
‘We have mead, small beer and tea, Missy.’
‘Then we’ll have tea.’
Thomasina’s eyes were bright. She had momentarily forgotten her father’s woes as she played the hostess. Sukey went out and Luke joined me on the window seat.
‘This may seem a strange question, Miss Turvey,’ he said, ‘but believe me it is to the point. Are you, I wonder, familiar with what is in your mother’s jewellery casket?’
‘Oh yes, very. As a little girl I played with it endlessly. I would make Sukey bring it to me and I would take everything out and try to wear it all at once. But what has it to do with all this?’
‘Your father told us that Flora Horntree had stolen, or tried to steal, some of this jewellery. Did he not tell you of it?’
‘Good heavens! Did she? He said not a word.’
‘I am interested in the origin of some of the pieces in the box. For instance, was any of it passed on to your mother by her own mother?’
‘By Grandmother Entwhistle? Oh no, I don’t think so. Grandmother had her own jewel box and, as you know, she was still alive when my mother passed away. So it came directly to me on her death. I have it still.’
‘And is it intact? Has anything been taken from it?’
‘It is. I often look at it.’
‘Very well. And is or was there something like an engraved silver pillbox there, made to hang around the neck as a locket?’
‘A locket? No, Doctor, Grandmother Entwhistle had no locket. And no pillbox that I’ve seen.’
‘What of your mother? Did her jewellery box contain such a locket?’
‘No, there is nothing of the kind and never has been.’
‘It is exactly as I thought, Titus,’ said Fidelis.
Thomasina looked bewilderedly at Fidelis, and then at me.
‘What is the meaning of all this? Why are you asking about lockets?’
‘There was a silver one among the things in Mrs Horntree’s valise. It was engraved F.H., of which the obvious interpretation is that it was hers and that she brought it with her to New Manor. But your father said different. He made out that Mrs Horntree had pilfered it from this house.’
‘Pilfered from here? That can’t be right. The letters are wrong to be my mother’s, or grandmama’s. So where did it come from?’
‘At the moment I cannot say,’ said Fidelis. ‘I hope we will know more soon.’
Sukey came in with a tray bearing teapot and cups, so our conversation was interrupted by the pouring and distribution of tea. Thomasina momentarily forgot her father as she played the hostess, and we sipped from our cups and complimented the old servant on her tea.
‘Sukey,’ I said, ‘you know your master better than anyone. Can you apprehend the reason for his recent behaviour?’
The servant’s face took on a wary expression.
‘Apprehend, Sir? No, I reckon it is not for me to apprehend. I leave apprehending to my betters.’
‘You may go, Sukey,’ Thomasina broke in. ‘You have things to do, I am sure.’
She waited until the servant had withdrawn.
‘It was just a few days ago,’ she said. ‘I only noticed it after you had left for Manchester with Mrs Nightingale. My father was distracted and very quiet. Then I thought I saw his eyes with tears in them.’
‘Is it unusual for Mr Turvey to weep?’
‘I have never seen him in tears, Mr Cragg, except one time when he discovered foul brood in one of the hives. That is a deadly disease of bees, you know. Of course, this time we thought – Sukey and I – that he was worrying over the disappearance of that woman who came to live here. She agitated my father even before she went so suddenly away, and now he is very much worse.’
‘And did he not tell you why?’
‘No. He was very silent and melancholy. I asked him what the matter was, but he did not reply except to shake his head. I asked if it was the woman’s disappearance and he shrugged his shoulders in a most helpless way. I believe this meant he did not understand his feelings himself.’
‘Do you know where he might have gone after the funeral?’
‘Perhaps to Clover Field. Before he went out first thing this morning, I asked him where he was going. He just said “Clover Field”, and nothing about going to Mr Horntree’s funeral.’
‘Clover Field, where he has one of his bee colonies.’
‘Yes, one of his favourites. I suppose he meant to look at the hives, and maybe remove some honey.’
‘Dr Fidelis and I shall go up there at once. We don’t want him to come to any harm.’
I should not have said that. Thomasina’s face showed sudden alarm. She clapped her hands to her cheeks.
‘Harm? Oh, I hope not, Mr Cragg. I hope not indeed!’
Fidelis and I climbed the path beside the Woodnook Brook at a steady pace. After we’d emerged from the brookside copse where Elizabeth and I picked wild strawberries, and passed the place where she and I had admired the view over the valley, my nose picked up an unmistakeable smell on the still air.
‘Something’s burning.’
We continued along the footpath, which went up and down beside a field, then crossed a stile and skirted another pasture. By now a haze of smoke could be seen ahead, though its source was in hidden ground.
After crossing two more fields, we reached the stone hut and the site of the beehives – or what remained of them, for the source of the smoke was now revealed. Where each skep had stood, there was a circle of blackened, smouldering ashes mixed with molten wax. Dead and dying bees lay scattered everywhere. The caramel scent of scorched honey mingled with the smoke and thickened the air.
‘It’s like a scene from war,’ said Fidelis. ‘After the King of France’s men have come to call.’
I remembered the comparison I had made on first seeing this apiary in company with its owner.
‘The hamlet has been sacked and burnt,’ I said. ‘Its inhabitants have been raped and killed. If Turvey was up here and saw this, how much more distressed he must be now, with his beehives burnt. Who could have done it? Who held such a grudge against him?’
I scanned the field and then turned, searching the horizon. There was no sign of anyone, but in the next instant both of us heard a sound from inside the stone shed.
‘Who’s there?’ I called.
As Fidelis and I advanced towards the hut door, it swung open and a man in labourer’s clothing came out. His lower face was concealed by a red kerchief, pulled over the bridge of his nose and knotted at the nape of his neck. Harry Hawk. He touched his forehead.
‘How do, Mr Cragg. Doctor.’
‘Hawk! You must explain yourself. What are you doing here?’
‘On my way home. Been working over yonder, at Mr Oldroyd’s.’
His voice was the same hollow baffle-tongued sound, all sliding vowels and indistinct consonants, that I remembered from our chat in the dark above the Black Bull. He pointed to the south-west. Oldroyd’s Farm was barely a mile away, though hidden in a fold of the land. I gestured at the incinerated skeps.
‘Are you responsible for all this?’ I said. ‘Was it you that burned these hives?’
He shook his head with a certain weariness.
‘Not I. I saw the smoke and came to see what was up, as I used to look after Squire Turvey’s bees for him. There’s no saving them, though. The colonies are burned beyond recovery.’
‘So what were you doing in the shed?’
‘I went inside in case who did this was there. There was no one. Then I heard voices coming. I was waiting to find out who you were before I showed myself.’
That did not seem unreasonable.
‘We are looking for Mr Turvey,’ said Luke. ‘We believe he may have come up here. Have you seen him?’
‘No, Sir.’
Hawk and I looked down at the blackened ashes and the strewn bodies of the bees as Fidelis walked towards the barn. He opened the door and glanced inside.
‘You must come back with us to New Manor,’ I said. ‘Happen Squire Turvey’s come home by now. He will want an explanation for what has occurred here.’
Hawk shrugged.
‘It’s my way home.’
Fidelis had gone out of sight behind the rough building. A few moments later he returned to us from the other side.
‘You two go on,’ he said. ‘I shall stay here.’
‘To do what?’
Fidelis beckoned me back to the barn and pushed me inside, ahead of him.
‘What do you see, Titus?’
The only difference compared to the last time I had been in there was that one of the straw bales was broken into. Looking closer, I saw that a bed of straw had been laid on the ground and partly covered by sacking.
‘It looks like someone’s made a bed here.’
‘It does.’
‘So who was living here?’
Fidelis stooped, removed the sacking, and inspected the straw. He picked something out of it.
‘Hold out your hand Titus.’
He dropped into it a delicate silver chain of the kind a woman uses to hang a pendant around her neck. The clasp had been broken.
‘Oh! This could be Flora’s, Luke!’
‘Precisely.’
Fidelis took off his coat, hung it on a protruding nail, and began sorting through a stack of wooden-handled tools. He pulled out a long spade.
‘Now, go quickly down to the village. It’s more urgent than ever that we find Turvey. As soon as you get there, send Danny up to me. I shall need his help.’
Thomasina’s eyes filled with disappointment on learning we had not discovered the Squire.
‘Oh, poor father! What can have become of him?’
‘Don’t despair,’ I said. ‘He may turn up yet, though I do fear for him. We found all the Clover Field beehives burnt and destroyed.’
‘His precious clover hives gone? That will sorely grieve him. Happen he’s off looking for the one that did it.’
‘Happen.’
Hawk having declined to enter the house, I had left him sitting on a stone seat in the courtyard. But now, going out again, I found the seat deserted.
Gone home to his dinner, I thought, and I didn’t blame him. I’d eaten nothing since breakfast myself and I suddenly felt a sharp hunger. So after finding Danny and instructing him to hurry off to the stone shed, I hurried back to the Dower House.
‘We haven’t waited dinner for you, Titus,’ said Elizabeth when I walked in.
I must have pulled a disappointed face, for she took me gently by the ears and kissed my mouth.
‘I had to feed Mr Postumus before he left us, but there’s a plate of mutton and potatoes for you and pickles with sage cheese. Matty found a farm that makes it and it’s very good. Sit yourself down. You won’t go hungry.’
I gratefully obeyed.
‘I would like to have thanked Postumus for conducting the burial, and am sorry I missed him,’ I said.
Elizabeth went to the fireplace and took something down from the mantelshelf, which she put into my hand. It was a pair of spectacles.
‘Well, he’s left these behind, so you can say your piece in a letter when you send them back.’
‘So I shall, but let me tell you about my morning first. It’s been a very interesting one indeed.’
I told her how Tom Turvey was missing after the funeral and how, going to look for him, we had found the remains of his skeps at Clover Field but no sign of Turvey.
‘How horrible, Titus! It must have been someone with a violent grudge who did that.’
‘Killing Mr Turvey’s bees was perfectly calculated to make the Squire suffer. Who could have done it?’
‘We found Harry Hawk there. Rather skulking inside the shed, he was. He claimed to have been merely passing by and noticed the smoke and went to see what caused it.’
‘A likely story! Remember that Mr Turvey used to employ Harry Hawk but he was dismissed for joining with the Stirk brothers in the frightful death of Mrs Gargrave. Hawk is very poor. He must have resented the Squire and bemoaned his lost job.’
‘Yes, and he was assistant in the beekeeping, which makes the destruction of the hives, if he did indeed do it, very apt. But a more urgent question is what has happened to Turvey himself.’
I told how we had noticed straw laid inside the shed, like bedding, and found the chain amongst the straw.
‘There is the possibility that someone has been living there.’
‘Oh! Could it have been her, Titus?’
‘Luke’s up there now, and being very mysterious. I mean to go straight back myself.’
‘We can go out together. I shall go to Thomasina. The poor child must be suffering terribly.’
As soon as I rose from the table, Elizabeth went to fetch her hat and came back with Suez jumping around her heels and Hector wrapped for going out.
‘I am bringing the baby and the dog. They will help amuse or at least distract the child.’
Before we left, I returned Mr Postumus’s eyeglasses to the mantelshelf. And promptly forgot all about them.