Chapter 37
37
A week later, Marcus received the sad news that Great-Aunt Elspeth had passed away. Her death had been expected but they had both hoped she would not be taken from them quite so soon. He attended the funeral alone, as the graveside was most certainly not a place suitable for a woman, and returned home astonished to learn that, apart from some charitable bequests, he was to inherit the majority of her wealth. Along with the promising return he was receiving from his investments, it seemed life was finally being kind to the Greybournes.
Luna and Marcus sat side by side on the bench overlooking the meadow. It was a crisp October evening and she was wrapped in a thick shawl that Mrs Webber had knitted her. One of her husband’s wide arms pulled her close, as they watched the racing gilt-edged clouds glide across an indigo sky.
‘All Hallows’ Eve is nearly upon us,’ he said. ‘The villagers are already building themselves up into a ridiculous hysteria but at least this year I will not have the worry of what my wife is up to.’ He kissed the top of her head and a contented sigh escaped his lips.
A shiver rippled across her skin as Mr Findlay’s warning came back to her. If only Marcus could be made to see how the cunning man could help protect them. Could she broach the subject and get him to understand they would shortly be needing Findlay’s help? Luna’s ghost had been quiet of late, but if there was any day that she would make a reappearance and cause her harm, then that would be the day. They needed all the protection they could get, but she had to tread gently.
‘Perhaps we could embrace some of the simple traditions associated with the day? Even though I appreciate you don’t believe in such things, where I grew up there was always a bonfire in the neighbourhood to ward off the spirits, and there are various plants that will bring us good luck and prosperity: lavender and rosemary?’ She could see his nostrils flare and his arm about her stiffened slightly.
‘I know Mrs Webber secretes birch around the house and I turn a blind eye to it, but please don’t become one of those who believes that nailing a horseshoe to your door will keep the people inside the house safe from harm, or drinking nettle tea will help a barren woman conceive.’
‘I know you think that those who mix up herbs and potions are doing so for nefarious ends, but monks have long since known how to harness the bounty that nature offers. Even God tells us in the psalms that herbs are there for the service of man. Mr Findlay prepares medicines that help people. He’s a folk healer, who offers peace of mind, if nothing else.’
If he could be made to see the man was friend and not foe, and she had Marcus’s permission to visit Honeysuckle Cottage, then she could get the cunning man’s advice over this forthcoming festival. He could help her to keep those at Ravenswood safe from the wrath of Luna’s vengeful spirit and the dark magic that would invariably be undertaken at their well, whether Marcus approved of such things or not .
‘I don’t want you within fifty paces of that man,’ Marcus said. ‘He is a quack and a fraud, whose interfering, however well meant, has only caused me greater problems in the past. Do not disobey me over this, Luna. I have promised to keep you safe and you must trust me to do just that.’
His face was stern but she knew that he meant what he said, both about keeping away from Findlay, and that he would protect her. Theirs was a love that she had not thought to find again in her lifetime, and she must guard it and, if necessary, make sacrifices in order to keep it. It would always be something they would disagree over: his conviction that magic was nonsense, and her conviction that it was real. The reflection of Luna standing behind her that day had not been in her imagination, the crack in the mirror was not the fault of some imperfection in the glass, and she felt instinctively that the words on the window were her final warning.
The light had all but gone now so they returned inside the house. Hattie had lit a fire and they warmed themselves in front of it for a while as they waited for Mrs Webber to announce dinner. Instead, the maid entered with a worried look on her face.
‘Begging your pardon, sir, but the parish constable is at the door asking to see you.’
Marcus stood up from his chair with a puzzled look and Luna wondered what the police wanted with her husband so late into the evening.
‘See him in.’
A minute later, Constable Jones walked into the room, and nodded at the Greybournes.
‘I apologise for the lateness of the hour…’
Marcus nodded, clearly as anxious as she was to hear of the reason for his visit.
‘This is somewhat awkward, sir.’ He removed his helmet and spun it nervously around in his hands. ‘I know we’ve had this conversation before, and I’m not usually one to challenge the word of a gentleman, but new evidence has come to light, and I have reason to believe this woman is the runaway I sought six months ago.’
The man looked genuinely troubled. He cleared his throat as Luna and Marcus avoided each other’s eyes.
‘It is my duty to investigate such a claim, especially as Rose Turner is still at large. We believe she poisoned a certain Daniel Thornbury from Lowbridge, a man whose proposal of marriage she had turned down only a few days previously.’
Marcus’s face as the details of the case were announced gave nothing away, but Luna saw the whites of his knuckles as he gripped the back of the fireside chair. ‘We have been through this before and, frankly, I am somewhat insulted that you are standing before me and my wife implying we are liars.’
The constable cleared his throat.
‘If you had some proof of the young lady’s identity?’
‘You may check the St Mary’s church register at your leisure. You’ll find we were married in the summer of 1875.’
‘With respect, sir, that proves you have been married ten years, but it does not prove that this woman is your wife. Do you have a wedding photograph or even a formal portrait taken of you together before this spring?’
Luna was not as composed as her husband and, in fear of saying the wrong thing, let him handle the matter.
‘When my wife was at her most distressed, she destroyed many of our possessions – photographs and documents amongst them. Ask the Kellings what state this house was in when they came to hang wallpapers. Only a few rooms were habitable, for goodness’ sake, man; she really was not of sound mind back then.’ He turned to Luna. ‘Forgive me for talking of these things, darling.’
The constable looked unconvinced. ‘Thing is, sir, an Irish tinker who travels about these parts, swears that this is the lady who stopped to ask him the way to the ferry back in April, the day before we came across you both on the path by the river. He saw her with you in the village a while back, but it was only when he was in Lowbridge and heard talk of the unfortunate death of the shoe factory foreman and the maid who ran away shortly after his body was discovered that he made the connection.’
‘And I have people who would swear that this is my wife of ten years – Mrs Cole for a start. Honestly, man, who do you trust? An Irish tinker or a respectable woman of business?’
‘I can’t see that the fellow has anything to gain from making this claim, but I’ve found people can be persuaded to say anything for money,’ the constable pointed out. ‘And that could apply to the tinker or Mrs Cole.’
Marcus’s cool reserve started to slip. ‘Are you suggesting I would bribe a local shopkeeper? Perhaps you should ask the opinion of Hilda, the old woman who called my wife a witch and stabbed her in the street? And arrest her for doing so, while you are about it.’
The policeman rubbed at his long whiskers and tried to keep his tone placatory. ‘Mr Greybourne, I am obliged to investigate this accusation. An innocent man was murdered, a young woman fled the village the very next day, and his father seeks justice. But there must be a way to settle this before it becomes a matter for the courts. Unfortunately, the local magistrate is now involved and you are required to meet with him to discuss the matter. I’ve been asked to request that you and your good lady wife attend his offices in Manbury, a week on Monday, at ten o’clock prompt. If you would kindly provide proof of her identity, we can resolve the matter to the satisfaction of all.’
For the first time since the constable had stepped into the room, Luna’s eyes met those of her husband. They had survived Great-Aunt Elspeth, but a magistrate would hardly overlook their deception just because they were a young couple in love, as she had done. ‘Please inform the magistrate that we will be there,’ Marcus said. ‘The sooner this nonsense is put to bed, the better. We have absolutely nothing to hide.’
He walked over to the bell and rang for Mrs Webber. ‘My housekeeper will see you out.’
Luna, amazed by her husband’s audacity, still had not uttered a single word and could not bring herself to even wish the man a good evening.
For the truth was, they had everything to hide and everything to lose.