Chapter 6 #2
Trebellow drew back his shoulders in affront. “Never, ma’am. We swear an oath in Cornish before every match: ‘Sweet play is fair play.’ And each of us renounces the use of magick before any tournament, as is traditional.”
“Oh? So the Musing is known round these parts?” Judith was surprised, for ordinarily it was kept well hidden.
“Well superstitioned, ma’am, but I keep to the oath.” His head lowered, and his tone along with it. “Of course, I will give up the pastime now the castle is a proper residence once more.”
Judith considered. “Well, I cannot see why you should completely curtail your wrassling ambitions now that I am here, but please be sure to ask for my permission before you attend the next tournament. Is there someone who can step into your duty while you are absent?”
“One of the twins, ma’am,” said Trebellow eagerly. “Our footmen, Kynver and Kade. They are young, but Kynver could manage it for an evening.”
“Ah, yes, the twins. Why have I not seen them yet?”
“They were helping at the dairy today, ma’am, for it is usually short of men.”
Judith wondered if the twins flocked to the dairy for another reason: the famed Miss Isla. “I will need to speak to them soon. For now, I need a moment to myself. Please send both the footmen to fetch me for dinner, for I fear I will not be able to find my way without guidance.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Trebellow bowed, then met her eyes and grinned sheepishly. “Thank you, ma’am.”
When she was certain that Trebellow’s footsteps had receded, Judith pulled the dark green curtains shut against the setting sun.
The room became bathed in a dim green light, as if it were now under the sea, and gingerly she retrieved Marigold from her pocket.
The little vampiri was still deeply asleep, curled up in a tiny ball in the flannel kerchief.
Judith did not want Trebellow, or anyone, to know of Marigold’s existence just yet. Kept secret, she might prove to be an essential ally. She could spy, unperceived, on the inhabitants of the castle, and explore where Judith could not.
Carefully, she placed the vampiri in the top shelf of the large wardrobe, set in the back corner of the room.
No one should think to look there that evening, and it was safe from any cat, should Ghastagon prove to betray his breeding.
Then she lay down fully clothed on the huge bed, atop the dark quilt, and tried to order her thoughts.
She felt rather overwhelmed by the number of suspects she had been introduced to in short succession: Trebellow the butler, who seemed to have a reasonable explanation for his absence three nights ago; the hostile, stately Mrs Ulrich, who had also lied about being on duty and had yet to explain herself; Miss Onslow, who had expressed a dislike of Sgt Finlay; the twin footmen, whom she had not yet met; Cador, the taciturn fisherman; and the pretty dairymaid, Miss Isla.
Or, she thought, some unknown smuggler who had not wanted the soldier interfering in a lucrative business.
It might very well be that one of those living at the castle was in league with the smugglers.
Judith knew that smuggling was a common practice in Cornwall and Devon, often aided and abetted by locals who believed it was a just evasion of onerous war tariffs.
And Castle Lanyon seemed an ideal place to land goods away from the mainland.
Miss Onslow had not doubted the existence of smugglers for a second; perhaps that was because she knew them all too well, though her disdain for them had been real.
Could Sgt Finlay be the one who had been smuggling?
Perhaps his direction to Cador to be on the lookout had been a feint.
It was a pity Judith couldn’t interrogate a dead man to see if he lied.
So far, Trebellow seemed to be the most likely candidate for violence, yet he would have no need to resort to a blow to the back of the head if he were an Impactor.
Such a knock could have been administered by a woman just as easily.
Judith was picturing a lovely dairymaid smacking a lecherous Sgt Finlay with a milk bucket, when a tap came at the door, heralding the arrival of her hot water.
It was borne in by two young men in footmen’s livery: the twins.
They were indeed identical, with handsome, narrow faces, sallow complexions, and dark mops of hair.
Their lean figures were clad in matching livery of navy blue and gold, though one of them wore a red ribbon tucked in a top pocket.
Judith wondered if this conceit was mandated by Trebellow in order to tell them apart.
They were both looking around the Captain’s Cabin as if they had never seen it before.
She sat up. “Thank you, and good evening. You must be Kynver and Kade?”
The two boys bowed low.
“Which one is which, if I may enquire?”
“I am Kynver,” replied the footmen decorated with a ribbon, his voice low and pleasant, his smile charming.
The other said nothing. It was true that his name was thus implied, but still Judith found the silence a little insolent. “Trebellow tells me you have been helping in the dairy today.”
“Yes, one of us,” replied Kynver, his smile becoming a little roguish.
Ah, perhaps it was the allure of Miss Isla that drew his generosity.
She wondered if the two boys competed for the maid’s affections, and if they would defend her from the inopportune attentions of a soldier.
Perhaps one of them had wielded the milk bucket.
Behind them, Mrs Ulrich appeared, regally bearing a creamy gown that frothed with lace over her arms: old-fashioned and heavy skirted. “Will this do, ma’am?”
Judith did not wince. “Thank you, I suppose it will, for now. Kynver and Kade, please return for me in an hour, so you can guide me to dinner.” She had not yet an opportunity to question them.
“I will fetch more gowns,” announced Mrs Ulrich. She cast a glance at the creamy pile in her arms. “We have several from the last century.”
Judith sighed, but she bathed and dressed in the ridiculously frothy confection, feeling much like a character from a play, perhaps Lady Macbeth.
What would Dacian say if he could see her in this monstrosity of lace?
No doubt he would insist she take it off, even if he still couldn’t remember her name.
She stared at herself in the mirror and wrung her fingers together to hold the fear at bay that he might never remember.
Her last sight of him twisted at her heart: his jaw tense, arms folded, leaning against cold stone as he watched her leave.
Would he manage to avoid further Lethe and recover his wits?
But she must not dwell on his plight now, or it would erode her own courage, which she needed for the night’s investigation.
Impatiently, she waited for the footmen to return, as per her instructions to take her to dinner, but when the door eventually opened it showed only one.
“Kynver?” she enquired, seeing the red ribbon tucked into the pocket.
“Yes, ma’am,” came the response, but the voice echoed hollowly with the lie.
Judith stiffened, eying the servant. It must be Kade; but she bit back her quick retort. Perhaps it was better to pretend she was fooled by the charade and see whether she could gather the reason for it.
“Where is Kade?”
“Chopping wood.” Another lie, of course, for Kade was standing before her. Was Kynver taking his place at the woodpile, then, or somewhere else entirely? Judith repressed her huff.
“A shame he is not here, as I wished to ask you both some questions.”
“Oh?” Faint unease sounded in his voice. Kade certainly did not have the assured charm of his brother.
“Yes, about what you may have seen three nights ago.”
Kade did not blink, but his expression became fixed. “Three nights ago, ma’am?”
“The night Sgt Finlay died. Did you know him?”
“He visited the castle often, ma’am.”
“Why?”
“As part of his patrol, I believe.” A note of doubt sounded in his voice, or disbelief. And perhaps irritation.
“There was no other reason for his visits?” She paused then took a risky shot. “I heard he was courting a dairymaid on the isle.”
A dark brow raised with scorn, and Kade’s voice became certain. “Sgt Finlay might have tried, ma’am, but he would not have succeeded.”
“Why is that?”
After a hesitation, the black eyes met hers again. “Because my brother Kade is courting her, with some success.”
He was talking about himself, but Judith tried to parse the odd lie in his voice.
Was the courtship without success? Or was it simply because he was referring to himself in the third person that made the words ring hollow?
The determination in his gaze made it clear that at least one of the twins were pursuing the lovely Miss Isla.
She weighed his slight form and glittering eyes. Could Kade have been provoked by jealousy or chivalry into murder? Was he the wielder of the milk-bucket?
“Did you see Sgt Finlay that day?”
“I did.” A pause. “I saw him crossing the causeway, around noon.”
“To the castle, or away from it?”
“Towards the castle.”
His words rung true. Judith frowned. “So the tide was out at noon. Did he manage to return in time? Perhaps he left it too late and drowned, as Cador suggested.”
“Perhaps.” The footman dared not shrug, but she felt his disdain nonetheless. “His body was found at the boulder near the end of the causeway. The one we call Arloedhes Karek, the Lady’s Rock.”
“Indeed. So, he made his way across somehow, whether by sea or foot. What time would the causeway next have been revealed?”
“Around midnight,” admitted the footman, reluctantly.
“Sgt Finlay must have left long before that.” This observation was met with silence, and a growl from Judith’s stomach. She sighed. “Very well. Lead the way to dinner, please.”
This time, the corridors were slightly more familiar, but still confusing.
Judith wondered how on earth she was to find the cellars later and consoled herself that at least she could easily claim to be lost should anyone stumble across her escapade.
Though, of course, as the new lady of the house, she shouldn’t have to explain herself to anyone.
Dinner was a tepid affair in a rather odd dining room, which Trebellow informed her used to be the dining hall for the monks centuries ago.
The table was a massive slab of wood, and the frieze near the ceiling depicted scenes of hunting.
The food was uninspired: a cabbage soup, followed by braised chicken and a rice pot.
Trebellow also awkwardly informed her that the cook was only young and new to the post, but he was sure that the fare would improve.
“What happened to the old cook?” Judith took a sip of the watery soup.
“She didn’t like it here.” Trebellow did not elaborate, and Judith wondered if the cook’s dislike had something to do with the haunted cellars.
But she did not want to alert the butler to her interest and plodded on with finishing the unappetising meal.
Finally, she set her bowl aside and nodded to Trebellow. “I am weary; I shall retire now.”
It was a lie, of course. She was still wide awake from all the sleeping she had done that morning at Pendennis, which seemed a lifetime ago now. It was a good thing too, as once everyone was asleep, she had cellars to inspect.