Deryn Lake: Death at the Wedding Feast

Hermann waved an airy hand. ‘Oh, she takes things very hard, does my mother. I think she suffers from what you might call a nervous disposition.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that. An infusion of the leaves of the lime tree might be very helpful. Go to any apothecary and ask him to make you some up. It really should help her.’

Herman looked vague. ‘I’ll tell her,’ he answered with singular lack of interest. ‘Anyway, how have you been keeping? You were at the Earl of St Austell’s wedding, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, I was. The only way I escaped was by playing dead.’

The young man grinned, showing his gappy teeth. ‘That was very smart. How did the old women react to that?’

It occurred to John that the gossip must have spread throughout the length and breadth of the county.

‘They weren’t old women,’ he said. ‘They were in fact men dressed up.’

Herman looked thoroughly startled. ‘How do you know that?’

‘It was obvious. Besides, a friend of mine heard one of them speak. It was a man’s voice he heard.’

Herman went slightly green about the gills, a highly unbecoming look with his carrot-coloured hair. ‘Well, I am surprised. I truly am.’ He sank his ale down in one draught and then looked at the Apothecary appealingly.

‘Would you like another drink?’

‘Yes, I would rather. Your news has come as something of a shock. I was led to believe that two old women carried out the raid.’

‘No, they were definitely men, believe me.’

Herman relapsed into silence and John was left to consider how sore his behind was and how he was dreading the ride home.

‘So will you be staying in Exeter for a while?’ he asked the brooding young man sitting opposite him.

‘I really don’t know. It is all very much in the air at the moment. I might go back to London ahead of my parents. See something of the town.’

‘Of course. It must get boring, particularly if you don’t have many friends round here.’

‘Oh I have friends,’ Hermann said with a sly grin.

John, assuming that the boy frequented brothels, merely nodded and smiled.

Quarter of an hour later he took his leave, suddenly weary and tired, and he and his horse plodded back to Elizabeth’s great house just as dusk was falling and the brilliant sun was lowering itself against the darkening landscape. Yet all the way there something nagged at the back of his mind, some indefinable something that he could not bring to the surface. Try as he would he could not grasp the unseen thread nor make any sense of his jumbled thoughts. But when he finally entered the house, having walked round from the stables, he realized that Elizabeth had company and had to put any such meanderings out of his head.

John rushed upstairs to change into night clothes, and put on something rather dark and fetching before going into the salon to see who had arrived. And there, draped decorously on a chaise with Freddy Warwick sitting as close to her as was decent, was Miss Cordelia Clarke. Of the redoubtable Lady Bournemouth there was no sign. Crossing over to Miss Clarke, John kissed her hand and gave a formal bow to Freddy, who had risen to his feet and returned the compliment.

‘My dear,’ he said, going to Elizabeth and kissing her on the cheek.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked, not crossly but curiously. ‘You’ve been out since first light. What have you been up to?’

‘Nothing much,’ John answered, not wishing to discuss the love life of Lady Imogen in front of anyone else. ‘I went into Exeter and bumped into someone I met on a coach. I just felt like riding,’ he added apologetically.

‘How unlike you,’ Elizabeth answered with just a hint of acidity. ‘Well, now that you’re here, Cordelia has something to tell you.’

‘Yes indeed,’ echoed Freddy, gazing at her adoringly.

Cordelia gave a little shiver as she embarked on her tale. ‘It happened on that terrible night of the wedding feast. Fortunately I was sitting next to Freddy…’ They exchanged tender glances. ‘… and he pulled me to the floor when he saw what was happening. We lay very still but kept our eyes open and thus I had a fine view of everything that happened at that level. I was terrified when a pair of feet came and stood right in front of me. I thought I was going to be killed.’

‘I would have protected you,’ said Freddy nobly.

‘Anyway, as I was watching, the crone’s garter came undone and slipped right off. When he had moved away I stretched my arm out and found it, then I hid it underneath me. And here it is.’

And with a triumphant move of her hand she reached into her reticule and produced the garter.

‘May I see it?’ asked John.

Cordelia handed him a decorative ribbon, definitely past its best and decidedly grubby but quite clearly a man’s. It had woven into it a slogan, namely ‘A toast to King George’. John passed it to Elizabeth.

‘Would you wear this?’

‘No, I would not. It is male attire.’

John took it back and stared at it. Whoever had owned the shabby thing had murdered — or assisted therein — three people. If it could help him hunt the killer down… But John knew that was impossible. It would be preposterous for him to even imagine going about such a task. Nonetheless, he turned to Cordelia and said, ‘May I keep this?’

‘Of course. It was meant for you and the Constable.’

‘I know he will be delighted to see it.’

‘He called here while you were out,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I think he is rather anxious to see you.’

‘If you have nothing planned for tomorrow, sweetheart, I shall ride into Exeter and catch up with him.’

Elizabeth’s vivid gaze caught his and he saw humour flicker in the depths of her eyes. ‘I have several females coming to admire the twins. I think it would be as well if you were elsewhere, my dear. But do please borrow the small coach. I could not bear to think of the pain to your posterior if you continue to ride.’

Everybody laughed, including John, though inwardly he felt somewhat slighted. He felt he had ridden well and as a town dweller had acted more like a countryman, directing his mount with a firm hand. But he suffered in silence and was glad when Freddy changed the subject.

‘I have asked Cordelia to marry me, and she has been kind enough to accept my proposal.’

‘Whenever did you ask?’ said Elizabeth. ‘I thought Lady Bournemouth had Cordelia under night-and-day protection.’

‘She was somewhat hors de combat after the shootings and I stole a moment whilst in Lady Sidmouth’s garden.’

John thought to himself that Lady Sidmouth’s house seemed to be a magnet for all kinds of emotions, whether they be for good or ill. And his mind went off at a tangent, grasping at straws, trying to form some sort of pattern yet still unable to see one.

Elizabeth rose and kissed the betrothed pair and asked all kinds of questions about where and when the wedding would be but he could barely move, so caught up in his thoughts and angry with himself that he had so many threads which refused obstinately to weave into a pattern. Vaguely he heard Freddy’s voice.

‘I have decided to study medicine, Madam. I am going to follow in my father’s footsteps.’

John came back to earth. ‘Very good. And where are you going to do this?’

‘At St Bartholomew’s Hospital. As you know it is one of the oldest, and my father studied there.’

‘We are going to live in London and be very poor but very happy,’ said Cordelia in a jolly voice.

John shook the young man’s hand. ‘Well done, both of you. My warmest congratulations, Sir.’ He turned to Cordelia. ‘And for you, young lady, a kiss on the cheek if I may be so forward.’