Page 22 of Needs Must
‘What on earth was that all about?’ Jules asked, once their visitor had been conducted from the library by an aloof Metcalf.
‘What indeed?’ Cal put his booted feet up on his desk, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
‘What did you make of him?’
‘I didn’t take to him, but I did believe his account. At least most of it.’
‘Me too. But why couldn’t he just come out and warn you that subversives might come to the area, stirring up discontent? Why all that moonshine about poachers?’
Cal lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. ‘I guess his reclusiveness has made him accustomed to doing things his way. He’s an odd fish, right enough.’
‘He clearly loved his wife.’
‘Oh yes, but I still think he might have killed her. That’s the part that I wasn’t entirely convinced about. Love and hate are very close bedfellows, and if she did stray then I can well imagine jealousy causing Bagshott to take the ultimate form of revenge. “If I can’t have you then no one else will.” It has been known.’
‘And blaming it on Rothstein’s minnows …’ Jules frowned. ‘But as far as I’m aware, he never claimed to know who had killed his wife. I would have heard the rumours if that had been the case.
‘He knows we can make enquiries about Rothstein, so he wouldn’t have told us if there wasn’t an element of truth to it.’ Cal tugged at his cuffs as he articulated his thoughts. ‘But at the time of his wife’s death he could not have known which of the aggrieved investors was responsible.’
‘Do you believe that Harte is alive?’
‘Who’s to say? None of this makes any sense.’ Cal swallowed down the bile that rose to his throat and took a moment to think the matter through. ‘First and foremost, it raises questions about Mrs Harte’s role in this sorry affair.’
‘No doubt you will give her an opportunity to explain herself. There are always two sides to every situation,’ Jules replied.
‘I had not thought her to be deliberately subversive.’ Cal shook his head. ‘So much for my being a good judge of character.’
‘Well, I dare say you will pay her a visit.’
‘I shall indeed.’ Cal sat upright and returned his feet to the floor. ‘But not today.’ He glanced at the clock in the corner of the room. ‘Time’s getting on and I need to think about this before I act. Tomorrow will do well enough.’
‘Well, I can’t find any fault with Mr Dawkins’ work,’ Miriam conceded, sounding disappointed, probably because few workmen had ever met Miriam’s exacting standards. She and Donna sat in front of the fireplace at Denmead cottage, shivering against the wind that whistled through the warped window frames as they worked industrially upon the new curtains that were intended to shut out most of the draughts in question.
‘High praise indeed.’ Donna smiled, her needle poised in midair. ‘But there can be no denying that he and his men are working fast and efficiently.’
‘I dare say the earl’s influence has helped to keep them honest.’
Donna twitched her nose. ‘We are unlikely to see him again, so he would have no way of knowing if their workmanship was shoddy.’
‘I suspect he gets to hear about anything in the district that interests him. Great men generally do.’
‘Well, he has no reason to take any interest in me. He has been polite and need not trouble his mind about me again.’
Donna had been trying very hard not to think about the handsome earl, but that did not prevent her from wondering what he had been doing since she had seen him two mornings previously. Despite telling Miriam that she had no expectation of seeing him again, a part of her hoped that he would find some pretext or other to call.
Ridiculous, she told herself, forcing common sense to reassert itself and shaking her head at her own folly. Men complicated everything and had no place in her life. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. It was better that way.
Miriam sent Donna a knowing look but didn’t dispute her assertion.
‘We should be able to move in sooner than expected,’ she said instead. ‘And I for one shall be grateful for some privacy. I did not at all like the way that presumptive cove looked at you yesterday.’ She tutted. ‘Trapping you in the corridor behind the taproom and assuming you would appreciate the attention indeed.’ She huffed indignantly. ‘It’s an outrage. If I’d only had my rolling pin to hand, I’d have taught him a thing or two about manners.’
Miriam looked disappointed not to have had her favourite weapon about her person. Donna thought it just as well. She recalled the last occasion upon which she had rescued Donna from unwanted attentions and guessed that her assailant probably still bore the scars. Donna agreed with Miriam’s assessment of the incident the previous day and knew that she could expect more of the same. The man had been intoxicated and very persistent. If Donna had not raised a knee and placed it forcefully in his groin ? a useful means of protecting herself that she’d had occasion to perfect in Jamaica ? then she would not have escaped unscathed.
‘Anyway,’ Miriam continued. ‘The chimney sweep is due this afternoon and I have already scrubbed out the scullery. It will suffice, at least for now.’
A thump above their heads and some colourful language made them both jump. ‘I hope Mr Dawkins’ foot doesn’t come through the thatch,’ Donna remarked, shuddering. ‘It’s raining and the poor man must be getting soaked. I’m astonished that he’s still working.’
‘I dare say he’s used to being out in all weathers in his line of work,’ Miriam replied, with apparent disregard for the man’s comfort. ‘And I shall have something to say on the matter if he allows a little drizzle to deter him. Besides, he reckons there’re storms in the offing, and he wants to complete the roof before they materialise.’ Miriam glanced out the window and scowled. ‘Hello, who’s that?’
