Five minutes later we were selecting suitable footwear from the collection of wellington boots lined up against the wall of the passage next to the kitchen entrance. From inside we could hear the clatter of pots and pans. Polly had rejoined Cathy Marsh in the kitchen and there seemed an angry tone to the way the utensils were being handled. As we put on weather-resistant coats I admitted to Charlie that I was puzzled none of the other children had joined us. ‘It’s snowing hard, there’s a game of hide-and-seek and the outside possibility of a gruesome discovery,’ I suggested, ‘I can’t see that failing to attract kids.’
He acknowledged the truth of it with a grin. ‘Normally they would. As for the twins, Sammy would certainly have been along but for the fact she’s got a sore throat and Ma’s banned it. Becky, well, you wouldn’t get her outside unless it was one of her precious books that was missing. As for my dear cousins,’ there was as much sarcasm in his voice as I’d managed earlier, ‘they’re all dominated by their doting parents.’
Eve was having difficulty with a recalcitrant wellington. She put her hand on my shoulder to steady herself. I didn’t think it worth pointing out that she could have used the wall to equally good effect. When she had mastered the misbehaving boot she straightened and looked at her nephew. ‘You don’t think much of Russell or Colin, do you, Charlie?’
His tone was as dismissive as a twelve-year-old could muster, ‘They’re a pair of creeps and spongers,’ he told us.
Eventually, we were suitably attired. I inspected my companions and made one minor alteration. Eve had opted for a red bobble cap. I removed this and replaced it with a smartly checked deerstalker. ‘It’s better for keeping your ears warm and it won’t clash as violently with your hair colouring,’ I told her.
We encountered our first difficulty with Rathbone, the butler, when we attempted to obtain the keys to aid our expedition. He told Charlie that he could not release them ‘without Sir Anthony’s permission’.
I’m not sure if Charlie inherited his temper from his aunt or whether it came from elsewhere. ‘Don’t be a prat, Ollie,’ he told the butler, ‘otherwise I’ll have to tell Pa I’ve seen you watering the port down.’
We got the keys without further objection. Rathbone opened up a small cupboard in his pantry and there was an impressive array of keys hanging from nails inside. Each key was neatly labelled.
‘Which ones do we want, Adam?’ Charlie asked.
‘All the outbuildings plus the garden door, where we found the puddle.’
Charlie passed the keys to Eve and me, with Rathbone looking on in smouldering disapproval. He paused after selecting keys to the stables, the greenhouses, and the family chapel. ‘Ollie, where’s the key to the garden door?’
‘It should be there,’ the butler muttered sourly. ‘That door hasn’t been opened since October.’
‘Well it isn’t, look for yourself,’ Charlie insisted.
After a long, close scrutiny Rathbone reluctantly admitted that the key was indeed missing. It was at that point that my belief in my theory strengthened. My fear for Beaumont’s safety increased in proportion.
‘Don’t forget that dinner will be served in three-quarters of an hour’s time,’ Rathbone still had one shot in his locker.
‘That’s all right, you have my permission to start without us,’ Charlie told him.
‘Don’t worry, we will,’ the butler promised.
‘Sour-faced old dork,’ Charlie muttered as we walked away.
‘Charlie,’ Eve protested, ‘you shouldn’t use words like that, it’s not nice.’
‘You use it all the time,’ Charlie pointed out.
‘That’s different,’ she said weakly.
‘Actually, that’s pretty mild for your aunt,’ I told Charlie, ‘you should have heard some of the things she called me last night.’
‘Oi! I thought we were supposed to be calling it quits?’
I smiled sweetly. ‘That was just to let you know I hadn’t forgotten.’
We walked back through the kitchen watched in disapproving silence by Polly Jardine and Cathy Marsh. I was the recipient of a particularly hostile glare from Polly. The look wasn’t lost on Eve. When we reached the passage to the outside door she said, ‘The queen of quiches is certainly not amused. That’s because you’re with me, not dancing attendance on her; she doesn’t like competition.’
‘Competition for what?’ It was a dangerous, leading question.
‘Competition for any man’s company and attention,’ she told me. ‘She has a bit of a reputation.’
‘Whereas you’re as pure as the driven snow, I suppose?’ I’d have got a tirade of abuse for that remark the previous day, but twenty-four hours seemed to have wrought a remarkable change in Eve.
‘I can be wicked if I want. I’m just a little more selective.’ Eve turned to Charlie and asked, ‘Have you really seen old Rathbone watering the port down?’
‘No, of course not. But I know he drinks it, so it seemed natural he would,’ Charlie grinned.
Eve hugged him. ‘You’re great, Charlie,’ she told him. ‘That was very clever.’
‘OK,’ I said when we reached the outside door, ‘which way do we play it. Charlie, you’re the local expert.’
‘Stables first I reckon, then the greenhouse, and finally the chapel.’
‘Right,’ – I’d had chance to think things over – ‘remember we’re not just looking for Beaumont. We’re also looking for signs that he met someone in one of those places.’
Both of them looked at me in surprise. ‘If Beaumont went out and didn’t come back then he definitely met someone. Otherwise, how could the garden door be locked and bolted from the inside? That explains the puddle on the floor. That must have been done when someone came back inside the castle. Beaumont isn’t inside, therefore the puddle must have been made by someone else. Despite what the cynics back there think, I’m very much afraid for Beaumont’s safety.’
‘Do you think it might be the Rowe family curse?’ Charlie asked, half hopefully. ‘Do you think he’s disappeared, never to be seen again?’
‘Maybe, although I’m not a great believer in the supernatural. I think it might be something more sinister than a legend.’
I opened the door and allowed Eve to step outside first. ‘Brace yourselves, men,’ she called over her shoulder and was immediately enveloped in a thick cloud of whirling snowflakes.
‘Come on, Charlie; don’t let your auntie show us up.’
We followed Eve outside. I closed the door behind us and we were at once in that magical silent world a heavy snowstorm brings. As with the previous day, now there was little or no wind. This was a minor blessing in that it reduced the wind chill factor and stopped the snow driving into our faces. Set against that was the major disadvantage that it failed to take the snow clouds away.
Eve had the stables’ keys and unlocked the door for us. There were no longer horses kept at the castle; none of the family had much interest in riding, Charlie informed me. The buildings had long since been converted into workshops and storage rooms. It took only a few minutes inspection to realize that wherever Beaumont had been headed it certainly wasn’t the stables. ‘Let’s try the garages whilst we’re close by,’ Charlie suggested.
Again there was no sign that there had been any entry to the garages since the snow had begun. ‘OK, where now, Charlie?’ I asked.
‘The kitchen garden greenhouses are on the way to the chapel, why not go there first?’
‘You’re the boss.’
We were already almost at the point where we would be risking the first course of our Christmas meal by the time we reached the greenhouses. They stood forlornly like three giant igloos covered in several inches of snow. The heat inside, whilst it was obviously kept low at this time of year, had been sufficient to melt some of the snow that had fallen on the glass, but obviously the effort had been too much, so there was a thick layer of ice. I wondered if the weight might eventually cause the frame to collapse. The effect would be spectacularly expensive, dangerous too, for anyone unlucky enough to be inside at the time.
That had not been Beaumont’s fate and when I thought about it the greenhouses were an unlikely venue for a secret rendezvous. They were far too visible, particularly if the meeting had been planned in advance of the snow. Eve seemed to have taken responsibility for securing the buildings, so Charlie and I waited whilst she fiddled with the padlock on the final glasshouse. ‘There’s only the chapel left,’ Charlie told me, ‘and that means a half-mile walk.’
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit of a trek?’ Eve asked as we set off. ‘For Beaumont I mean, not us. Do you really think he’d have gone that far just to meet someone, when there were the stables and garages closer at hand and quite secret?’
‘True enough,’ I agreed. Even I was beginning to wonder if my theory had been just a wild fantasy based on the slimmest of evidence. I remembered the puddle, I remembered Beaumont’s missing clothes, and my resolve stiffened. ‘We must check it out, no matter how unlikely it might seem,’ I maintained.
Eve gave a sigh of mock reluctance. ‘Never mind,’ she consoled me, ‘I was never that keen on turkey anyway.’
The snow was almost to the tops of our wellingtons in places, making our progress slow. Eventually, through the blurring curtain of snow, I saw the outline of a building ahead. Indistinct though it was I recognized it as our objective immediately. As we struggled through a particularly deep stretch, Eve remarked suddenly, ‘I suppose you must be used to this sort of thing?’
‘How do you mean?’ I asked.
She turned to reply, which was her undoing. Her foot slipped in the snow and before I could put out a hand to steady her she had gone full length and was lying face down in the snow. I lifted her to her feet, thankful that Charlie was far enough ahead not to hear the rich and varied assortment of expletives his aunt was capable of producing. I began helping her to dust the snow that had attached itself in liberal proportions to almost every item of her outer clothing. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked.
‘My leg hurts,’ she said and winced. She leaned against me. I brushed vigorously at her coat. As I started to knock the snow from the chest of the garment I saw her eyes sparkle dangerously and shifted my target immediately.
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I didn’t think.’ I turned her and began attacking the rear of the coat. It fitted her snugly and I thought suddenly that Eve had a really attractive figure. As I removed the last of the snow she leaned against me. ‘Where does it hurt?’ I asked.
‘My ankle,’ she said, ‘it’s really painful.’
‘Are you OK, Auntie?’ Charlie had returned to see what was holding us up.
‘She’s taken a bit of a tumble and hurt her leg,’ I told him. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to walk the rest of the way?’ I asked her.
‘I’ll do my best,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘If you’ll support me.’
‘No problem, just lean as much of your weight on my arm as you want.’
Our progress was even slower after Eve’s fall. ‘Bang goes the Christmas pudding,’ I said flippantly.
‘I’ll not miss that,’ Eve said. ‘You never answered my question.’
‘What was that?’ I struggled to remember what we’d been talking about.
‘Snow. I said you must be used to snow, from the time you spent in the mountains.’
‘How did you know about that, did Harriet tell you?’
‘Harriet hasn’t told me a thing about you. I reckon she wants to keep you to herself. She and you were an item at one time, weren’t you?’
‘You mean you didn’t know about us? When we were at university together?’
‘Not until years afterwards. No, I read War in the Hills, that’s how I know about your escapades.’
‘When did you read that?’
‘Last night. I went into the library looking for something to read and found a copy on the table. I took it to my room; started to read it, and I couldn’t put it down. The only thing to disturb my reading was the succession of females visiting your room.’
‘How did you know about them?’
‘My room’s opposite yours. Anybody going to your room has to pass my door. When you hear tiptoeing footsteps in the middle of the night in a castle with a dodgy reputation it makes you curious. So I looked out and saw your harem coming and going.’
‘My harem! That’s a bit strong, isn’t it?’
‘Well, what else would you call it? First there was Charlotte, she’s a bit long in the tooth for you though, don’t you think? Then my dear sister Harriet turned up, trying to rekindle the past, just in case her husband has inherited the family lunacy. Finally the Sexy Chef came along with the aphrodisiac whisky. Once that was over I was able to concentrate on the book. I’m not sure which was more exciting.’
Eve had been leaning against me with every step. I could feel her body against mine as I helped her towards our destination. It was a strange sensation, mildly sensual through the layers of our various garments. I had watched her face as she was speaking and she seemed to be in much less pain than previously. Eventually, we stood outside the chapel. It was an ancient building; small and sturdy, but a perfect cruciform church in miniature. I tried to estimate its age but I’m no expert on architecture. ‘How old is this building, Charlie, do you know?’
‘I’m not certain, about four or five hundred years, I think.’
That would place it at about 1500. I tried to remember my history. As far as I could recall that was slap in the middle of the Tudor dynasty. One of the last two Henrys would have been on the throne at the time if Charlie’s information was accurate. I looked at the building again. ‘Is there power to the chapel? Is there light inside?’ I asked him.
‘Oh yes,’ he told me. ‘Well, there’s some electricity. We hold four services a year in the chapel. One of them should be tomorrow …’ He smiled. ‘But I don’t think the priest will make it somehow.’
‘Right, so if you unlock the door,’ I handed him the key, ‘can you switch the light on without actually going inside?’
‘Easy, the switch is on the wall just to the left of the door.’
‘OK, do that and we’ll see if anyone’s been inside, shall we?’
I helped Eve over the step into the porch whilst Charlie fiddled with the large iron key. ‘If anyone has been in here we’ll be able to tell easily enough. The building will be cold enough for the snow not to have melted.’
As soon as Charlie switched the light on we could tell there had indeed been at least one visitor to the chapel. As I’d guessed, the snow they’d got rid of from their footwear hadn’t melted. It glistened in the dim reflection of the single bulb above the entrance. ‘Well that answers one question,’ I told my companions, ‘but at the same time it raises a few more.’
‘So you were right all along, Adam. Beaumont did come here,’ Eve said.
‘Someone did, for sure. But we can’t be certain it was Beaumont.’
‘Who else could it have been?’
‘It might have been the person he’d arranged to meet.’
‘So what are the other questions it raises?’
‘First of all, the obvious one; why did they come all this way to meet up? It doesn’t make sense. Second, if Beaumont didn’t return to the castle, where is he? If we don’t find him in here that’s another unsolved mystery. The other thing that’s niggling me is the keys. Why was the chapel key in Rathbone’s pantry when the garden door key is still missing? At first I thought the person who had used the garden door had been unable to return the key to its hook; but the fact that the chapel key was in place knocks that theory for six.’
‘No it doesn’t, Adam,’ Charlie said quietly. ‘There are two keys to the chapel door. I’ve only just realized it but when we collected them from Rathbone there was only one in place. Someone has the other key.’
‘Which means they either haven’t had chance to return the keys unnoticed or they intend to use them again.’
‘I can live with that theory. Don’t you think we should go inside and see if we can get the answers to your other questions?’ Eve said. ‘Apart from anything else I want to take the weight off my leg. I know church pews aren’t the most comfortable seats going, but I’d prefer one to standing up much longer.’
‘I’m sorry, Evie; that was thoughtless of me.’ I’d intended to say Eve but the word Evie slipped out. She didn’t seem to mind.
The chapel was small, as befitted a private family place of worship. There were only six pews on each side of the aisle, but although the building was in miniature it was complete in every detail: altar, pulpit, font, vestry, choir stalls, and a lectern on which stood a large and ancient-looking Bible. As we reached the aisle I saw Charlie cross himself. I glanced round the church again and saw a confessional. I stopped suddenly.
‘Charlie,’ I said, ‘I didn’t realize the Rowe family are Catholics?’
‘Sort of,’ he admitted, ‘there was a bit of trouble about it a few hundred years ago.’
‘Yes, I had heard something about that, I just didn’t realize it. I suppose because I knew your mother to be an Anglican.’
I glanced at Eve who nodded a confirmation. ‘It’s all a lot more relaxed nowadays,’ Charlie said, ‘none of the old renunciation business. Pa’s more or less lapsed anyway, he just continues with the traditions for Grandma’s sake.’
‘Right, we’d better get on with what we came here for. Time’s getting on and the weather doesn’t look like relenting. It’ll be dark before we get to the castle, especially as we’ll have to take it slowly.’ I smiled at Eve. ‘Charlie and I will search the chapel, you rest your leg a bit longer, Evie.’ There – I’d said it again, but again Eve didn’t seem upset by the familiarity. Perhaps the snow was forming a small bond of friendship …
Aside from the main body of the chapel there was a small transept on either side. In each of these was an impressive tomb. ‘Who lies in those?’ I asked Charlie.
He grinned. ‘Two of the bad lads of the family. They’re the reason this place was built. It’s one of the few family legends my father enjoys telling. Roland and William Rowe were twins. They were notorious for almost anything wicked: rape, kidnapping, murder. You name it, they did it. The only reason they got away with it was because they were rich and powerful. They were so evil the Church told them they would never allow them to be buried in consecrated ground so they had this place built to thumb their nose at the authorities. In the end they fell out over some female. Apparently, Roland had carried her off and was keeping her to himself. William wanted a bit of the action so he snatched her one night when Roland was drunk and took her off so he could enjoy her. They fought over her and killed each other.’
‘They sound like a nice pair of lads,’ I remarked gently. ‘So what happened to the title after they came to a sticky end?’
‘There was no problem with that, they had plenty of children between them; both legitimate and otherwise. Legend has it they fertilized most of the female population for miles around, but they were both married. William was married twice. He was the elder twin and he had eleven legitimate children; although only two of them survived infancy. It was from Roland and William that the stories about the family madness originated.’
‘Who wants boring ancestors anyway?’ I suggested.
‘I’m not sure the local inhabitants at the time would have agreed with you.’
We searched the vestry, a tiny room with barely room for both of us, the choir stalls and the nave before examining the transepts. I took the one containing William; leaving Roland for Charlie to examine. The tomb was a large oblong marble construction, topped by a sleeping effigy of a knight. His expression was of a soul at peace and I wondered if the stonemason had been instructed to sculpt the features like that or whether his sense of humour had taken control. I turned away. There was nothing to indicate Beaumont had been there; or anyone else I thought. As I did so, I noticed out of my eye corner a small speck of colour against the grey marble of the shield and sword of the sleeping knight. I turned back and looked again. I peered closely and saw that it was a spot of reddish-brown. I reached out and touched it with the index finger of my right hand. I looked at my finger. Whatever the spot was it was still damp. ‘Charlie,’ I called out, ‘come here a moment.’
He hurried over and Eve hobbled after him. I showed them the tiny stain on the tomb and they looked at me; their thoughts the same as mine. ‘Is that blood?’ Charlie asked in awe.
‘I think so, but there’s only one way to be sure.’ I licked my finger, bringing a look of distaste to both their faces. There is no mistaking the taste of blood. ‘Yes,’ I told them, ‘I’m sorry I had to do that; and I’m sorry to say it is blood.’
We walked slowly from the tomb back along the transept towards the rear of the chapel. Now that we had found one bloodstain others became easier to see. I counted six in an irregular line before we reached the entrance to the building. ‘Someone has walked along here with blood dripping from some sort of wound,’ I told them, ‘and what’s more, the wound was beginning to bleed more profusely as he walked. Look, these bloodstains are much larger than the ones nearer William’s tomb.’
We searched again, concentrating on the rear of the building but were unable to find any further sign of either Beaumont or whoever he had come there to meet. Eventually, we had to give up on the chapel. We left the building and as Charlie relocked the door I looked at the scene outside. The snow had lessened whilst we were inside; but darkness was approaching rapidly, delayed by the lying snow. ‘Time we were heading back anyway,’ I said, ‘there still looks to be a lot more snow in that sky.’
I looked at Eve, ‘Will you be able to manage the walk?’ I asked.
‘Yes, if you give me a hand I’ll get there,’ she said with a brave smile.
There is something about children, boys in particular, and snow. Boys are rarely able to resist a decent-sized snowdrift. Whereas adults avoid them, boys like to plough through them. We had only gone about a quarter of the way back to the castle when Charlie, who was ranging on ahead, saw a good looking mound of snow off to his right near a small retaining wall.
He went to churn up the snow, which was about two-feet deep. I was smiling a little at the boyishness of his antics when I saw him stumble against some unseen obstacle and went sprawling full length. ‘Not another injury,’ I groaned as he stayed down. ‘Come on, Evie; let’s see if he’s all right.’
We were attempting to reach him as fast as we could, given Eve’s injury, when he sat up. ‘Adam,’ he called and it was obvious he was in some distress. ‘Adam,’ his voice was high with incipient hysteria, ‘Come here please, Adam, now.’
We reached him. Charlie was staring fixedly at the snowdrift; his face a mask of horror. Eve hugged him tightly. ‘Charlie, are you hurt?’ she asked.
He shook his head and pointed to the snowdrift, his finger trembling. Only it wasn’t a snowdrift at all. It was the body of a man, the corpse of what I could only assume had recently been Edgar Beaumont.