Imogen Robertson - Island of Bones

Stephen was happy to try it, and ran to and fro along the path like a young dog. ‘I was asking Miriam about Casper, sir,’ he said when his first flush of energy was run off and he found himself back at Mr Quince’s side.

‘Were you? And what did Miriam have to say?’

‘That he lives in the hills almost all year round and sleeps in the charcoalburners’ huts or the woodcutters’ old camps, though he is quite rich.’ Mr Quince looked down at the boy. He obviously saw something to admire in Casper’s sleeping arrangements. ‘And also that he knows all about bogles and dobies and the fair-folk and witches, and comes and visits people when they are sick. He is a cunning-man. They say he has healing powers, but the boggarts pull his hair sometimes and make him strange. But only sometimes.’

‘And what are bogles? Or dobies, for that matter.’

Stephen looked proud. ‘There, now I can tell you something, sir. Dobies are often helpful. Bogles are bad luck and look like dead people. They say Casper’s father saw one once, and that was when the small-pox came upon him.’

‘You are very thoroughly informed! How long did you keep that girl from her work?’

‘She did not mind.’ He kicked a stone in the path and it skittered across the road, startling a pheasant into flight. They paused to watch it retreat clumsily into the field, clucking in outraged magnificence.

‘Do you believe in ghosts, Stephen?’

‘I do not think so. But perhaps I would if they pulled my hair.’

Quince breathed the air in deeply. ‘I do not think even Mr Crowther could fault your logic on that point, my lad. Now let us not dawdle. I hope we may join one of the boats that leave from Keswick to show the lake, and perhaps visit the museum in the town. They have a picture of the Luck there, and we can compare it to your carving.’

Distracted by the body itself, Harriet only now remembered to ask Crowther about the fire and the pans steaming above it.

‘I intend to boil this gentleman’s bones.’

Harriet was aware he was watching her for a reaction. ‘Why?’ she managed at last, faintly.

‘This body is far too old for me to make use of my usual methods, madam. What little flesh remains is mummified.’ Harriet nodded. It looked like rotted wood to her, as if a touch would turn it to dust in places. In others it was leathery and black. ‘It is very unlikely to tell us a great deal. However, the bones may. To remove the remaining flesh by slow boiling will reveal anything they have to say to us without damaging them further.’

She frowned at him. ‘You know the body is to be buried in a few days? I understand the vicar has found room in the graveyard at Crosthwaite for him. Mrs Briggs has even picked the verse for the tombstone. Do you think it will please the reverend gentleman to know you have been making soup of the corpse?’

A smile glimmered across Crowther’s face. ‘We can spare the vicar’s feelings by sealing the coffin before he takes charge of the remains. And by not giving him too many details of the manner of our investigation.’

No one else would have thought Crowther looked in any way excited, but Harriet could tell he was delighted at the thought of cleaning the bones. She watched him with amused resignation. ‘I am glad the cook has not lent you her best pans.’

A shadow crossed the edge of their vision, and they looked up to see they were observed from the doorway by Mr Sturgess and another gentleman. He was an oddly dwarfish little man, though powerfully built, purple-faced with very full lips, and was blinking rapidly at them.

Mr Sturgess advanced when he saw they had been noticed. ‘Good morning, Mrs Westerman, Mr Crowther. Mrs Briggs told us where you were and I am afraid we could not resist disturbing you briefly. I wished to introduce you to Mr Askew.’ The other man shuffled in. ‘He owns our new museum in Keswick.’

‘Delighted,’ Harriet murmured and dropped a curtsey. It was peculiar to find herself acting as if she were in a drawing room with the corpse lying exposed between them, but she was unsure what the Lady’s Magazine would advise in the circumstances.

Mr Askew bowed in return and continued to inch towards them. ‘This is the poor fellow then? How horrible.’ His eyes bulged a little. ‘We put a notice in the window of the museum, you know, but no information has been offered.’

He craned his neck upwards and stared down at the corpse’s open mouth, his lips opening a little as if he were mimicking the expression of the body. Harriet glanced at Crowther, who was looking at the museum owner very coolly, then she turned to the magistrate.

‘Any more ill-gotten treasures for us, Mr Sturgess?’

He shook his head, but before he could put his reply into words Mr Askew had turned his shining eyes towards Harriet.

‘Mr Sturgess mentioned you were in possession of a snuffbox that was found on the body. May I see it?’

Harriet hesitated, then reached into the pockets of her skirts and handed it to Mr Askew over the remains of its former owner. He licked his lips and turned it over in his hands. Harriet felt the sting of his sweat in her nostrils. ‘Oh, that is very pretty! I hope Mrs Briggs might be persuaded to donate it to the museum in due course. It is just the sort of thing that grabs the interest, you know. Do you not agree, Mr Sturgess?’

Sturgess stepped forward to view the body. ‘Undoubtedly,’ he said as he examined the corpse’s face, then almost to himself, ‘how these little objects mock us. It so solid and this man. . Alas, poor Yorick. .’ He stepped back again. ‘Forgive us, we are keeping you from your work. We came to invite you to Mr Askew’s entertainment on the shores of the lake this evening.’

‘Indeed,’ Askew said with a beam. ‘After the gathering here at Silverside we are to have fireworks launched from Vicar’s Island at the north end of the lake. I hope all of the party at Silverside will grace us with their presence. I have left tickets, with my compliments. There will be punch, and I expect quite a squeeze. The town is full of visitors at the moment.’ He handed the snuffbox back to Harriet. ‘And all of the neighbouring gentry will be in attendance. I had it also in my mind to mention to Herr von Bolsenheim that I chanced upon an acquaintance of his from Vienna in town, visiting with his daughter, but I understand he has left to spend the morning in Cockermouth.’

Harriet put the box back into her pocket. ‘I think he is already aware. Mrs Briggs mentioned to us there was some such person in town, but I do not think they are closely acquainted.’

Sturgess seemed ready to take his leave, but Mr Askew was not yet done with them.

‘I was also wondering if I might persuade Lord Keswick. .’ he bowed towards Crowther, ‘to address a small meeting at the museum on the unusual atmosphere of this summer at some time during your stay. We should like to take advantage of having such an esteemed Fellow of the Royal Society in our midst.’

‘I must decline,’ Crowther said shortly. ‘I have no specialist knowledge in the area.’

Askew looked a little deflated, making Harriet pity him, however much she wished him away.

‘This part of the country has spent much of its history largely cut off from the world,’ said Sturgess. His voice was rich and light. Too conscious though, Harriet thought, too aware of itself. ‘Many people in the villages are ready to blame witches and bogles, and light needful fires to try and drive off this haze. Will you not help to educate them?’

‘Would such people attend a meeting at the museum?’ Crowther asked.

Sturgess paused, then said frankly, ‘No, I cannot pretend they would.’

‘Well then.’