Deryn Lake: Death and the Black Pyramid

‘And may I be here?’

Elizabeth squeezed his hand. ‘Of course. Please consider this house your second home.’

John gave up. There was no arguing with her. Most of the women he had known would face the thought of bringing a bastard into the world with shame and humility. Yet here was Elizabeth talking in the most rational way of bringing up her son or daughter by herself, regardless of gossip. The Apothecary had to come to terms with the fact that the Marchesa was entirely different from every one of his other acquaintances; that she stood alone.

They dined early and John, studying her, thought how this late pregnancy had enhanced her, rounded out her tendency to boniness, softened the contours of her face. Even the savage scar that ran down her cheek from her eye to her mouth seemed to have lost its cruelty and appeared like a gentle line.

‘You are very beautiful,’ he said down the length of the table and regardless of the hovering servants.

‘In your eyes perhaps.’

‘No, truly.’ He was longing to tell her that forthcoming motherhood became her but did not like to mention it in the presence of the footmen waiting at table. Instead he said conversationally, ‘Tell me, are you acquainted with Lady Sidmouth at all?’

‘Yes, I know the old besom. Why?’

John rolled his eyes in the direction of the footmen and Elizabeth said, ‘Thank you, Faulkener. You may tell the servants to withdraw. If you could return in a quarter of an hour or so that would be splendid.’

As soon as the room had cleared John got up and took his chair to sit beside her, taking her fingers in his hand and kissing each one individually.

‘I love you,’ he said.

She stroked his hair. ‘And I love you. But you do understand that we cannot be together. Our lives are too different and I am too old for you.’ He started to protest but she silenced him and said, ‘You know that is true so don’t deny it. But while you are here let us enjoy each other’s company and have an amusing time.’

‘Very well.’ He sat up straight. ‘Tell me about Lady Sidmouth.’

‘I’ll do better than that. You can meet her in person. I shall call on her tomorrow and take you with me. But why do you want to know about her?’

‘There was an incident on my journey here.’

‘What sort of incident?’

‘A murder.’

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. ‘Tell me all about it.’

Filling both their glasses from the decanter that stood on the sideboard, John took a mouthful and then launched into the tale of how he caught the stagecoach at the last minute and of all the varied people he had got to know during the course of the journey.

‘And so the unpleasant Mr Gorringe met his end in The Half Moon,’ he ended lightly, though he shivered as he said the words, adding, ‘Actually it was one of the most horrible crimes I have ever witnessed.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the poor devil had been bludgeoned to death in the most brutal manner. It was a truly terrible sight to see.’

Elizabeth remained silent, her profile etched against the light thrown by the fire. She said, ‘Tell me more about the Black Pyramid. He interests me.’

‘Do you believe he is the murderer?’

‘Quite possibly. Did you not say that Gorringe recognized him?’

‘Yes, I believe he did.’

‘Then they have a past connection. And as the motive was not robbery you must look to the past, John. For that is where the answer will lie.’

‘You sound like Sir John Fielding.’

Elizabeth pealed with laughter. ‘Do I really? Is that my attraction for you? That I remind you of the man you work for?’

John raised a svelte eyebrow. ‘Hardly that, my darling. I cannot imagine getting into bed with the revered magistrate.’

‘I should hope not indeed.’ She raised her wine glass. ‘I should like to drink to you, John. Thank you for everything you have done for me.’ She put her hand to her body. ‘And thank you for the child. Now that I am enceinte I realize that it is something I should have considered years ago.’

‘But then I would not have been the father.’

Elizabeth smiled enigmatically. ‘No, I suppose not,’ she said.

They went to bed shortly after the meal was cleared away, both in high spirits, though the awful sight he had seen that morning slightly tempered John’s relief that he and Elizabeth had been reunited. However, she was clearly not suffering from any such inhibitions and burst into song, leaning against the upright pillows and sipping a glass of wine. Just for a second John thought about the servants, wondering whether they could hear her or not. Then he threw caution to the winds and joined in, singing lustily, clinking glasses with her and generally having a good time until eventually both of them fell asleep.

The ride from Exeter to Sidmouth came back to John with horrible clarity the next morning as he and Elizabeth set off to visit Lady Sidmouth, travelling in her second-best carriage. He recalled the scrubland where long ago on his honeymoon he had seen a headless coachman driving a coach full of phantoms. This had later turned out to be a sinister deception but it had shaken him and frightened Emilia at the time. And because of those memories he was glad to leave that particular piece of coutryside and emerge onto the wooded headland that led down to the sea.

The bay of Sidmouth was surrounded on either side by land that protruded into the water. As one faced the ocean a long green promontory stuck out like a finger to the right. But the left-hand side was dominated by red cliffs, above which lay green pastures and in the midst of these was set the home of the redoubtable Lady Sidmouth. As the carriage turned into the drive John could see the house and put it down as having been built in the reign of Queen Anne.

It was of mellow red brick and in a niche above the front door stood a life-size statue of Demeter. The rest of the building flowed round this central point in becoming lines and the Apothecary found himself liking the harmonious whole enormously. The coachman dropped them at the main entrance and drove round to the stables on the right, while Elizabeth pealed the bell. John stood back and was astonished when the door was answered by a little woman wearing an apron.

‘Wretched footmen,’ she said by way of greeting. ‘Never around when they are needed. Come in, my dear, come in. And who is your friend?’

‘Lady Sidmouth, may I present John Rawlings to you. John, this is Lady Sidmouth.’

John bowed handsomely, then kissed the lady’s hand.

‘My goodness,’ she said, ‘what an elegant young man. Pray follow me.’

They did so, entering a large hallway and proceeding from there through a series of rooms until they came to one at the end of the house that overlooked the sea. John stared out of the large window to the undulating swell below him and remembered distant times that had been so full of joy.

He turned round to see that Lady Sidmouth was ushering him towards a seat.

‘Come and sit opposite me, Mr Rawlings. I wish to look at you.’

She was one of the most extraordinary women that John had ever seen. She had very large upper lids which closed half her eye, revealing a pair of dark brown orbs beneath, which glinted like those of a harvest mouse. But this was not her most peculiar feature, for Lady Sidmouth appeared to have no lips at all. The Apothecary had never seen such a tiny and inverted mouth. When she spoke she did so without moving it and he peered to see if she had any teeth, and was rewarded with a glimpse of minute white seeds. To crown it all she had wispy brown hair which she had screwed up into a bun beneath a very ordinary work a day mob-cap.

‘Well now, I think it is time for a little sherry, don’t you?’ And without waiting for a reply she rang a small bell that stood on a table. She turned her attention to Elizabeth. ‘And tell me, my dear, how are you getting on?’