Page 18 of Needs Must
Cal and Jules exchanged an astonished look.
‘Remind me how many acres you have?’ Cal said.
‘It’s the perimeters, the points of access, that signify,’ Bagshott replied, sniffing. ‘Hooligans are always attempting to damage my property and invade my privacy and I won’t stand for it.’ He thumped his fist on Cal’s desk to emphasise his point. ‘Despite the closure of that track, they still find their way in, throw rocks at my windows, trample on my wife’s flower borders and make general nuisances of themselves. I cannot, will not, tolerate such impudence.’
Cal was surprised that he referred to the borders as his wife’s, and wondered if he was still keeping her alive in his mind. ‘You imagine these malcontents gain access through the woods,’ he suggested.
‘I do.’ Bagshott nodded emphatically, folding his arms across his torso; a dogmatic man making it appear as though there could be no two opinions on the subject. ‘The frontage to my property is too secure for them to breach and the track is too overgrown for them to gain access there. Their only other point of entry is through the woods.’
‘It sounds to me as though you are more concerned about your own security than you are about the loss of your game,’ Cal said curtly, still doubting the man’s motives for coming to him.
Bagshott grunted, and the reluctant sympathy that Cal felt for his situation evaporated. He was the type who despised weakness in others and would never knowingly display it in himself. ‘I fail to understand you, sir,’ he said stiffly.
‘Then let me speak plainly.’ Cal fixed his visitor with a look of firm resolve. ‘This is the first conversation that you and I have had since I assumed the earldom. I called twice and was turned away on each occasion. In fact, no one locally has enjoyed the pleasure of your company socially. I would not have known you if I’d passed you in the street, and yet we are neighbours. You have never wanted to know me but now, for no obvious reason, seem to think that you can make demands and that I will comply with them.’ Cal waved one hand in the air. ‘Look at matters from my perspective and perhaps you will better understand why I feel no pressing need to oblige you.’
Bagshott looked disconcerted, clearly unaccustomed to answering to anyone for his behaviour. ‘The fact that I choose to live a life of seclusion and avoid the so-called social niceties is neither here nor there.’
‘And yet your reclusiveness lies at the heart of your complaint, I think. It must have taken something extraordinary to tempt you away from the seclusion in question to come and see me, and I’ll warrant that something has nothing to do with poachers.’
Bagshott shuffled in his seat, clearly wanting to tell Cal to go to the devil. And yet the elusive something that had brought him to Cal’s door was obviously more pressing. Cal watched as his visitor compressed his lips, his whiskers bristling with the effort it was taking him to keep his thoughts to himself.
‘Why can you not simply oblige me by fencing off your part of the woodland that faces the track?’ he asked, an edge of impatience entering his tone.
‘Because I cannot justify an expense that I see no reason for,’ Cal replied. ‘Especially for a man whose actions have inconvenienced my family for a decade. I am happy with the arrangements that I have put in place to curb any excess poaching. As I have already said, to imagine it can be stamped out altogether would be naïve. Besides, to a determined poacher, a fence would represent a challenge rather than a deterrent.’
Cal said nothing more, allowing the silence to work for him. Few people were comfortable with silences and most felt a compelling need to fill them. Bagshott proved to be no exception.
‘You are surely aware that my wife died under mysterious circumstances,’ he said gruffly, lowering his voice but keeping his gaze fixed upon Cal.
‘My understanding is that she was murdered,’ Cal replied, now entirely focused on their discussion. He had suspected from the outset that Bagshott’s visit related somehow to his dead wife. Mrs Harte was about to occupy the cottage in which the lady had lost her life and Cal was determined to ensure that her own life would not be put in danger as a consequence.
‘She was,’ Bagshott said, a glimpse of emotion breaking through his stoic expression. ‘And everyone hereabouts suspects me of having carried out the deed.’
‘And did you?’ Cal asked.
‘I did not.’
Bagshott’s eerie eyes met Cal’s gaze and held it. Cal’s immediate reaction was to believe the man, even though he had yet to warm to him. There was something in his stark reaction, something about the emotional turmoil he was unable to completely disguise, that seemed truthful.
‘That was ten years ago. What has it to do with the current poaching epidemic you are so determined to stamp out?’
‘Just so that you are aware, I adored my wife and I like to think that she returned my affections. In fact, I know she did.’
Given the rumours that Cal had heard about her indulging in an affair, he rather doubted it. But for now he would give his visitor the benefit of the doubt since it was clear that he had difficulty speaking about the matter. He swallowed repeatedly and struggled to remain detached from his emotions. Cal could sense his underlying despair.
‘Go on,’ Cal said.
‘There was never an affair.’
‘Then why did she remove herself to Denmead Cottage?’ Jules asked before Cal could.
‘Because I told her to.’ Bagshott swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘I wanted to keep her safe, but what I actually did was condemn her to a grisly fate.’
‘I think you need to explain,’ Cal said, glancing at Jules, who shrugged.
‘I’m trying to, man!’ Bagshott snapped. ‘This is hard for me. The guilt I have carried all these years has not diminished with the passage of time.’
Cal nodded towards the whisky decanter on the sideboard, aware that Bagshott’s tongue might be loosened if he took a dram. Jules got up and poured for them all. Bagshott nodded his thanks and drained his glass in one swallow.
