Alys Clare - Music of the Distant Stars

I turned away from it, sickened.

Ida’s narrow bed had been taken away. Perhaps it was too eloquent a reminder. Lady Claude’s stool stood to one side of the room, around it neat piles of linen and skeins of different-coloured wools. Of the lady herself there was no sign.

‘That’s strange,’ Lady Emma said. ‘Wherever can she be?’

‘Perhaps she is resting in her chamber and did not hear your knock,’ I suggested. It did not seem very likely, but Lady Emma nodded, strode back along the passage and opened the door to Claude’s room. The chamber was as clean and tidy as the sewing room and as empty of inhabitants.

Lady Emma seemed unreasonably disturbed by her guest’s absence. Pregnant women should avoid distress, so I took her arm, gently steered her back down the steps and into the hall and helped her sit down on her grand chair. She was frowning, a deep crease cutting the smooth skin of her forehead. Her hands clutched at each other, and I noticed she was biting the inside of her lip.

‘Lady Claude has probably gone outside to take the air,’ I said calmly. ‘It’s a lovely morning, and I dare say sitting too long over her sewing was threatening to bring back her headache. I expect she’s-’

Lady Emma interrupted me. With considerable force, she said, ‘Claude never goes out! She appears for meals promptly whenever she is summoned, although she eats very little and scurries back upstairs to her sewing as soon as good manners permit. Lord Gilbert and I have repeatedly invited her to join us after supper — we do not wish her to feel unwelcome — but again she excuses herself and insists she must get on with her work. We have suggested that she goes out for a ride, or accompanies me when I take my daily walk, but Claude will have none of it!’ There was a flush on Lady Emma’s face now, and I had the impression she was heartily sick of her uncongenial house guest. I felt very sorry for her. I know enough about the habits of her kind to realize that, if her husband’s second cousin had come for an extended visit, she had no choice but to put on a smile and say, How lovely, please stay for as long as you like! Among the titled rich, hospitality was an almost sacred requirement.

‘Well, she’s gone out now,’ I pointed out, ‘unless she’s hiding in some other chamber of the house!’ I made my tone light, trying to encourage Lady Emma to relax. Her tension was making me anxious for her.

She managed a grudging smile. ‘Not very likely,’ she murmured.

‘Would you like me to go and look for her?’ I offered.

Lady Emma’s mouth opened, and I was almost sure she had been about to protest. In a flash of understanding, I realized it must actually be a relief to have Claude’s awkward presence out of the house for a while. Then she thought better of it and said, ‘Perhaps you should. You have come to minister to her, Lassair, and I would not have it that you had made a wasted journey.’

‘I also came to see you, my lady,’ I reminded her gently.

She turned to me, and I could see from her expression that she was still worrying about Claude. ‘So you did,’ she said absently. ‘So you did. .’

I had been about to ask her if she would like to tell me about the small matter she had mentioned earlier, but I sensed she was too distracted. Well, if she wanted to talk about Claude, why not encourage her?

‘You are plainly disturbed by Lady Claude’s inexplicable absence, my lady,’ I said. ‘Do you fear for her safety?’

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Somebody had strangled Ida; that somebody was still out there somewhere. Was that why Lady Emma was so worried? Because she feared that Lady Claude might also fall victim to the unknown killer?

Lady Emma took my hand impulsively, gave it a squeeze and released it. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘It’s broad daylight out there, and people are working on the water, along the shore and in the pastures on the higher ground. Wherever Claude is, I’m sure nobody’s about to set on her.’

‘What is it, then?’ I prompted.

Lady Emma gave a small, embarrassed laugh. ‘I suppose, Lassair, I am a little aggrieved,’ she said. ‘My husband and I have done our very best to make Claude feel welcome, yet she has insisted on shutting herself away in that stuffy little room and working on her linens and her embroidery. Her industry is commendable, and I am sure Sir Alain will greatly appreciate her efforts once they are wed, but-’ I waited. ‘I am very surprised to discover that she has slipped out without a word!’ Lady Emma burst out. ‘Why, this very morning I suggested that the two of us take our sewing and go out to a pleasant, shady spot that I know of down by the water. I thought we could take the children and, if the weather remained clement, our midday meal could be brought out to us. Claude said — quite brusquely — that she preferred to work in her sewing room because the bright sunshine might fade the colours of the wools.’ Her incredulous eyes met mine. I had to agree, as an excuse it was feeble to the extent of being almost an insult.

I did not know what to say. Since speaking about Claude was clearly distressing her — or rather, I realized suddenly, it was the effort of not giving in to temptation and saying what she really thought of her guest’s rudeness — it seemed prudent to distract her. ‘You could move outside now if you wish, my lady,’ I said. ‘I would be happy to assist.’

Her chin went up. ‘Yes, why not?’ she said. Then, turning to me, ‘But there is no need for you to help, Lassair; you will no doubt have more important calls on your time. The servants will make the arrangements.’

I bowed my head. ‘Very well, my lady.’

Shortly afterwards, I was on my way back to the village. I had promised to make up a remedy for Lady Emma’s mild indigestion — the small matter — and run back with it later. I was puzzling over where Claude might be, and why she hadn’t told her hostess she was going out, when, drawing level with the church, I saw a sudden movement.

Recalling my resolve to visit Ida’s grave, my first thought was that someone else had had the same idea. Then I thought: it might be Lady Claude . If it was, I decided to suggest gently that Lady Emma was worried about her, hoping she would then go back to the hall and make a polite apology.

My imagination got busy with the scene back at the hall. I’d got as far as thinking Lady Emma might be grateful to me for sending her house guest home to her, when I recalled that she actually didn’t seem to like Claude very much. I was so preoccupied that it took me a moment or two to realize that whoever it was by Ida’s grave, it wasn’t Lady Claude.

It was a man, and I had never seen him before.

He was crouched on the grass beside the grave. His eyes were closed, and he was muttering to himself, although his words were inaudible. He was probably praying. I wondered if I ought to tiptoe away; it did not seem right to disturb him. I studied him. He was, I guessed, in early middle age; maybe seven or eight years younger than my parents. He was slight, not very tall and rather hunched, as if he habitually crouched over his work. His hair was long, its colour brown streaked with grey. He wore a soft leather belt fastened over a tunic that was too big for him, as if he had lost weight and had not bothered to have the garment taken in. His hose were of good wool but much darned, although there was a fresh hole in one knee. He carried a knife in a scabbard hanging from his belt.

Then I noticed his hands. They were quite large, the fingers long and strong-looking.

I had an idea that I knew who he was. Why not ask him? If I was right, then perhaps he would take comfort in speaking to the person who had found Ida’s body. I could tell him I’d found her in a sacred spot — well, it was sacred to my family, although possibly an outsider would prefer to have her lie where she now lay buried — and say that death would have been swift.