Wheel of Fate

ELEVEN

I dismounted and, grasping her by the shoulders, gave her a little shake.

‘Slowly, my love, slowly! Just tell me quietly what has happened.’

Before Adela could speak again, however, she was joined by Clemency and Sybilla, both out of breath from running and both talking at once.

‘. . hasn’t been seen since breakfast. .’

‘. . garden with the children. .’

‘. . hide-and-seek. .’

‘. . completely vanished. .’

‘Oh, Roger, do something,’ begged my wife.

The three children and Hercules had now arrived, the former looking sulky and more than a little defiant as children often do when they think they are being blamed for something that is not their fault, while the dog, catching the general mood of panic, began to bark, short, distressing yelps that pierced the ears and made them sing. Old Diggory snorted and tossed his head.

I dealt with first things first.

‘Quiet!’ I yelled at Hercules, my stentorian tones for once cowing him into immediate submission. I then soothed the horse before waving a hand at Clemency and Sybilla, commanding their silence, and turned once more to my wife.

‘You say Celia is missing?’ She nodded, ready to burst forth again, but I said firmly, ‘Wait! Wait until we are indoors and I can listen to you all properly. The horse must be stabled, too. He needs feeding and watering. Is there anyone who can see to this?’

‘I can,’ said a firm voice, and I realized that, in the last few seconds, the housekeeper had also joined us. In her usual competent fashion, she took the reins from me, adding, ‘Go in, all of you. I’ve put ale and wine and some of those little cinnamon doucettes Sybilla likes so much on the table in the hall. Calm yourselves, then you can acquaint Master Chapman with such as there is to tell.’ Arbella shrugged. ‘For my own part, I think the three of you are making a to-do about nothing. Celia has probably just gone for a walk.’

But when all the facts had been presented to me, I wasn’t so sure that I agreed with her. It seemed that after the five women — the three sisters, Adela and the housekeeper — had breakfasted, together with the children, Celia had announced her intention of playing hide-and-seek in the garden with Nicholas, Elizabeth and Adam.

‘I have the headache and shall be all the better for a little air,’ she had argued, brushing aside her sisters’ concern and their advice to lie down upon her bed. ‘For sweet heaven’s sake, I’m not ill,’ she had reproved them. ‘A slight pain behind the eyes, that’s all. Besides, I feel sure that Nick and Bess can’t have discovered every nook and cranny of that garden and it’s such a long time since I walked all round it. I used to love it when I was young. I was ten,’ she had told Adela, ‘when we first came here, and I thought it paradise.’

And so she had gone out of doors with the children, all three of whom liked her much better than her half-siblings, and, as far as Adela could tell, seemed perfectly content to accept her company. But not long after the four of them, with Hercules yapping at their heels, had disappeared into the wilderness which was the Arbour garden, the reason for Celia’s sudden desire for fresh air appeared in the shape of Roderick Jeavons. He had, ostensibly, come to see Sybilla and how she was progressing, but it was immediately apparent to the other women that the real purpose of his visit was to speak to Celia. He had plainly been angry at what he saw as her contrived absence and had declared his intention of following her and forcing his presence on her. In this, he had apparently been dissuaded by Adela who, with her quiet common sense, had persuaded him that such confrontations invariably ended in quarrels.

‘But it seems,’ my wife said with a sigh, ‘that he changed his mind. The children say he did eventually seek them out somewhere in the garden and began urging his attentions on Celia.’

‘He put his arms round her and kissed her,’ Elizabeth disclosed with a little shudder of excitement, obviously unsure whether she found such rough treatment masterful or repellent. (On the whole, I fancy she rather inclined to the former.)

‘And Celia slapped his face and called him a lot of names,’ Nicholas added, round-eyed. ‘And Physician Jeavons called her a lot of names back and said she was an. . an in. . in. . in-something whore.’ I guessed the missing word to be incestuous, but refrained from saying so. ‘I didn’t understand what he meant.’

‘Yes, well never mind that,’ I said hastily. ‘What did the doctor do then?’

‘He went away,’ Elizabeth said. She looked disappointed. ‘And we didn’t see him any more.’

‘He did say he’d get even with her,’ my stepson pointed out. ‘And I don’t think he would have gone away then if Hercules hadn’t started barking at him and trying to bite his ankles. It made Celia laugh and that made the doctor even crosser.’

The housekeeper had entered the hall in time to overhear Nicholas’s last remark and she smiled sourly. ‘Oh, Celia enjoys humiliating the poor man,’ she said, starting to pour the wine which we had so far neglected. She pushed full beakers towards us. ‘You’d think,’ she went on angrily, ‘that a woman of her age would be grateful for a handsome man like that to come courting her. Plump in the pocket, too. Celia will soon be thirty-six. High time she was in an establishment of her own.’

‘Be quiet!’ Clemency ordered her furiously. ‘I don’t want to hear any more of such talk. Celia’s happy here with us, and that’s how we want it to remain. You’d better not say those things in front of Oswald. It would be as much as your place is worth.’

Arbella Rokeswood flushed painfully and her mouth shut like a trap. If looks could have killed, Clemency would have been a dead woman. And so would Sybilla, who was nodding vehemently in agreement.

‘I’m not sure I shan’t tell him,’ the latter told the housekeeper spitefully.

I slapped my open hand on the table making them all jump and spilling some of the wine.

‘These squabbles will get us nowhere,’ I reproached them. I turned again to Nicholas and Elizabeth. ‘After Dr Jeavons left, what happened next?’

‘We went on playing hide-and-seek,’ my daughter said. ‘It was Celia’s turn to seek, so Adam and Nick and I ran off to hide. Nick and I went together because we’d found a little stone hut at the end of a long, twisty path — I don’t know where Adam and Hercules went — and we waited and waited, but Celia never came. In the end, we thought she’d just got tired of playing and gone back indoors, so we came out and started a game of our own. Then, after a bit, we found Adam and Hercules. Adam had taken his shoes and hose off and was paddling in a stream at the end of the garden. Hercules was splashing about as well. They were both in a terrible state,’ Elizabeth added virtuously, wrinkling her nose.

I gave Adam an admonitory glance, which he returned with a wide-eyed, innocent stare.

‘And then?’ I prompted.

‘And then it was dinnertime,’ Adela said. ‘I went out to call the children in, but there was no sign of Celia. And when I asked where she was, Nick and Bess said she’d gone back to the house, but she hadn’t. Clemency, Sybilla and I searched everywhere, but there was no sign of her. Sybilla and Clemency then went outside to search the garden — I had to clean up Adam and Hercules — but again, they could find no trace of her.’

‘I tell you, you’re making a fuss about nothing,’ Arbella put in irritably. ‘Celia’s gone for a walk to clear her headache. She’ll be home presently, you mark my words.’

‘She didn’t come home for dinner.’ Sybilla began to cry. ‘It’s hours now since anyone’s seen her. She wouldn’t stay out walking all this time. Something’s happened.’ Her voice rose shrilly. ‘Someone’s killed her. Whoever it is who’s trying to harm us. I think we ought to send for Oswald. He’ll know what’s to be done.’

Clemency put an arm around her sister’s shoulders. ‘Hush, my dear. Let’s not jump to conclusions. As Arbella says, there may be a perfectly satisfactory explanation.’ But her voice quavered and I could hear the panic behind the sensible advice.

‘I’m presuming Dr Jeavons got into the garden without returning to the house,’ I said. ‘Am I right? Is there a separate entrance to the garden?’

Clemency nodded. ‘There’s a side gate that leads through from the little copse.’

‘The copse?’

‘A thick stand of trees that grows some way back from the main track,’ Adela explained. ‘It’s not a part of the Arbour land. It just happens to be on the other side of the gate.’

‘And has the copse been searched?’

Clemency and Sybilla looked guiltily at one another. ‘We. . we didn’t think. .’

‘Stay here,’ I commanded. ‘I’ll go and look. Just tell me how to find this gate.’

‘We’ll show you,’ my daughter volunteered, catching hold of Nicholas’s hand.

‘You’d better let them, Roger,’ my wife advised. ‘You’ve only seen the garden from the windows. It’s more of a labyrinth than you imagine.’

She was not exaggerating. Nothing had apparently been done to it in the quarter of a century that the Godsloves had lived there. It had simply been allowed to return to its natural state. Here and there could still be discerned the remnants of a formal layout: a rose garden, a shrubbery, a sunken herb garden, the stone hut at the end of an overgrown path which had probably once served as repository for picks and spades. But now the roses ran riot, the once exotic blooms reverting to the single, pallid dog-rose of the hedgerow, the shrubbery a mass of stunted, scrubby plants that impeded progress and tore at one’s hose, but which provided wonderful cover for secret games and hide-and-seek. There was a stream, too, at the far edge of the property, forming its western boundary, the clear water rippling over pebbles and shale with little black minnows swimming in its depths. A child’s paradise indeed, and yet, to my mind, there was something sinister and a little forbidding about it as perhaps there always is when the wilderness takes back its own.

Nicholas and Elizabeth seemed not to share my feelings, forging ahead of me along narrow pathways, advising me where to step in order to avoid the worst of the encroaching stems and branches and pointing out various hidey-holes which they had discovered. At last, however, we arrived at the pretty wrought-iron gate which opened into the small copse beyond. Ordering the children to stay where they were, I pushed it wide and stepped into the shadow of the trees.

Adela had been right: the copse was not large but it was dense, a stand of ancient oaks, a remnant, I guessed, of more extensive woodland that had once covered the surrounding countryside. I moved forward cautiously, my heart beating a little faster as I did so, half expecting to find a body lying on the ground. No such grizzly sight awaited me, however, but the earth beneath the trees was muddy, no sunlight penetrating the thick canopy of branches, just beginning to green with new leaf. And I noticed one place in particular where the mud had been churned up as though a horse had been tethered there.

But that, of course, was more than likely as Roderick Jeavons must have tied his mount up somewhere when he entered the garden to seek out Celia. The animal could have been standing there some while as he had first to find her before he could press his suit. And I was then able to see the imprints of his boots deeply gouged into the earth, a man in a fury at being rejected yet again, mounting his horse and riding away. But had he? Or had he re-entered the garden and vented his anger by abducting Celia — or worse, by killing her?

I pulled myself up short. If the former, she would have screamed and resisted. One of the children must have heard her and gone to see what was wrong. If the latter, where was the body? Clemency and Sybilla had, according to the women’s account, thoroughly searched the garden and nothing had been found. Besides, the good doctor would surely not have risked his livelihood and reputation by anything so crude. If someone really was trying to murder the Godsloves, one by one, then he or she was demonstrating greater patience and subtlety than that. And another thought struck me. If Roderick Jeavons were the man, then he would most certainly not wish to kill Celia, who was the object of his desire. On the other hand, he might have grown tired of waiting and simply abducted her, but where would he hide her until he could force her consent to their marriage? Presumably he led a perfectly normal domestic life with a housekeeper to attend to his well-being. Or did his house have a cellar where he could keep her captive? Where he could. .?

I shook my head angrily and the visions of torture and rape receded. I was letting my imagination run away with me. I was getting as bad as the women and allowing their hysteria to influence my way of thinking. Arbella Rokeswood was probably right, I told myself. There was a perfectly logical explanation for Celia’s disappearance, and the answer would soon be revealed.

I went back to the garden, carefully closing the little gate behind me. Elizabeth and Nicholas had vanished, fed up with waiting for my return, but I could hear their voices somewhere in the distance, laughing and chattering in callous disregard for the troubles and problems of their elders. (Which, of course, is as it should be in my view, although perhaps not many of my coevals would agree with me.) I therefore made my slow progress back to the house where Clemency and Sybilla (the latter by now in floods of hysterical tears) together with my wife and the housekeeper, were anxious for my report.

‘Did you find anything?’ Clemency asked, barely able to speak for fear of what my answer might be.

I shook my head, and there was a collective gasp of relief. I realized that they had all been fearing the worst: that I had stumbled upon Celia’s murdered body. Sybilla’s sobs abated a little.

‘I found nothing in the copse,’ I said, ‘except a patch of churned up earth where Dr Jeavons must have tethered his horse while he went to look for Celia in the garden.’ I didn’t add, Away from your prying eyes and interference, although it was on the tip of my tongue to do so. But a steely glance from Adela, who had divined my intention with her usual acumen, made me think better of it. I continued, ‘I think Mistress Rokeswood could well be correct in believing that Celia either simply grew bored with playing hide-and-seek or needed to calm herself after the encounter with Dr Jeavons.’

‘Of course I’m correct,’ the housekeeper said in a satisfied tone. ‘Thank goodness someone at last has the good sense to agree with me. And now,’ she added irritably, ‘supper will be delayed on account of being short-handed in the kitchen.’ Several enquiring looks were bent in her direction and Arbella pointed an accusing finger at Sybilla. ‘She insisted that I send one of the girls all the way to Westminster, to the courts, to inform Oswald that Celia is missing.’

Clemency looked reproachfully at her sister. ‘Oh, Syb! I know you’re worried, dear, but there was no need to bother Oswald yet awhile. Not until we’re absolutely certain that something’s wrong.’

Sybilla, who had been bravely choking back a fresh bout of tears for the last few minutes, began to cry again, but quietly this time, her whole body shaking.

‘But something is wrong,’ she persisted. ‘I can feel it in my bones.’

‘Nonsense!’ the housekeeper declared stoutly. ‘I tell you, Celia’s just gone for a walk.’

‘Gone for a walk,’ confirmed a small voice as Adam, looking unusually spick and span, having been thoroughly washed after his paddle in the stream, climbed into his mother’s lap and solemnly surveyed the assembled company.

There was a moment’s pregnant silence while we all stared at him. Then I sat down in a chair next to Adela’s and, leaning forward, took both his little hands in my own.

‘What do you mean, sweetheart?’ I asked gently. ‘Do you know that Celia went for a walk?’

He nodded. ‘Went for a walk,’ he repeated. ‘Said she’d get her cloak.’

There was another silence, profounder than before.

‘Did. . Did she tell you that?’

Adam shook his head impatiently. ‘Not me. Person she was talking to.’

‘And where was this?’ I kept my tone low and unhurried.

‘Oh, never mind where it was,’ Sybilla broke in, her voice rising to a shriek. ‘Who was it she was talking to?’

Adam moved closer to his mother. My wife’s arms tightened about him protectively.

‘Don’t know,’ he said. ‘Didn’t see. I was hiding behind the bushes.’

‘But. . But surely you came out to see who it was?’ Clemency demanded, adding her mite to the interrogation.

Adam sighed. ‘We wos playing hide-n’-seek,’ he explained patiently. ‘’F I’d come out, Cilly would’ve known where I was hiding.’

He glanced at me in indignation, plainly seeking guidance as to why adults asked such very stupid questions. I gave a little shrug and pulled down the corners of my mouth, which seemed to placate him.

‘Was it a man or a woman Celia was talking to?’ I asked, stroking the backs of his little hands with my thumbs.

His brow puckered while he considered the matter, but he eventually shook his head. ‘Don’t know,’ he said.

‘Oh, nonsense!’ Clemency exclaimed. ‘You must know if you heard a man’s or a woman’s voice, you silly boy.’

‘That will do, cousin,’ Adela retorted angrily, springing to the defence of her young. ‘Adam is not quite five years old. He’s still a baby.’

‘Not a baby,’ declared her ungrateful offspring. ‘I’s a big boy. Didn’t hear the other person ’cause they were outside the gate. Just heard Cilly say, “I’ll get my cloak”.’

‘So someone asked her to go somewhere with him. . or maybe with her?’ I gave his fingers a squeeze. ‘Is that what you’re saying, Adam?’

My son regarded me blankly. ‘Went to get her cloak,’ he repeated, taking refuge in what he was sure of. He began to look distressed again.

I leant forward and kissed his soft cheek. ‘All right, sweetheart, you’ve been a very helpful, clever boy. Just a few more questions to make sure I understand you properly. This was by the garden gate that opens into the copse? The little wood?’ He nodded vigorously. ‘And what happened next?’

‘Waited and waited for Cilly to come and find me.’ His voice rose in outrage. ‘But she never came. I waited a long, long time. Then Her’cles found me, so I stopped hiding, but Cilly wasn’t there, so I went away and played with Her’cles and we paddled in the stream.’

‘What do you think happened to Celia?’ I pressed him.

He squirmed a bit on Adela’s lap. He was tiring of this catechism and wanted to get down.

‘Went to get her cloak. Went for a walk. But I thought she’d find me first,’ he added, his sense of grievance coming to the fore once again. And with a final wriggle, he escaped from Adela’s clutches and trundled off on his own. Wisely, she let him go.

I looked at the others. Arbella Rokeswood had forgotten all about supper and still made one of our sombre little conclave.

‘So,’ I said, after a moment’s silence, ‘it would seem that someone — a man or a woman, we don’t know which — asked Celia to accompany him or her somewhere, although for what reason we again don’t know. But whatever it was, she agreed. Which suggests that she recognized and trusted the person in question. She said she’d fetch her cloak. Is there any way she could have done so without anyone seeing her come back into the house?’

Arbella, Clemency and Sybilla nodded almost in unison, but it was the housekeeper who answered. ‘There’s a passage behind the kitchen where we keep old cloaks and pattens for when it’s raining and we have to go outside. A side door opens into the passageway from the garden. The entrance to the kitchen itself is further along, so Celia could easily have come in, fetched a cloak and gone out again without anyone seeing her. In any case, the two girls and I were busy preparing dinner — that was a good meal gone to waste! — and I doubt we’d have heard anything either. There’s always too much clattering and banging of pots and pans with those two clumsy creatures about, and even though the kitchen window was open, Celia could have taken half a dozen paths back to the gate without one of us spotting her. But,’ she finished, ‘why you’ve all got such long faces still, I’m sure I don’t know. Surely this proves my point. Celia went out for a reason, and will be home any time soon.’

‘But who did she go out with?’ Clemency demanded, the knuckles of her tightly clasped hands showing white against her dark dress. ‘Who was it came to the garden gate and asked for her company, and why?’

‘Oh for sweet Jesu’s sake!’ Arbella exclaimed, exasperated. ‘She has acquaintances among the cottagers who live around the Bishop’s Gate. She’s very good to some of the poorer ones. Takes them soup and bread when we can spare it from the kitchen. It was most likely one of them seeking her assistance. And apart from standing around here, wailing and wringing our hands and assuming the worst, not one of us has done more than search the garden for her.’

She had a point, and a good one. I was a little shocked to realize how I had allowed the febrile atmosphere and general sense of panic to blunt my common sense. A wider search should have been instituted for Celia’s whereabouts before we all decided that she had been abducted, or worse. It suddenly dawned on me that three or four or possibly more hours had passed since Celia’s absence was discovered, and no one had thought to enquire beyond the environs of the house itself. Even Adela, normally so level-headed, had succumbed to the fear that held Clemency and Sybilla in its paralysing grip.

Although still feeling a little shaky after my queer turn earlier that afternoon, I recognized that, as the only man present, it was undoubtedly my duty to bestir myself and undertake more extensive enquiries than had so far been set afoot. I stood up.

‘Where are you going?’ Adela asked sharply, and I recognized the underlying note of concern.

I smiled reassuringly at her. ‘I’m going to ask around the Bishop’s Gate, in the houses and the alehouse, if anyone’s seen Celia. If she went that way, someone might remember her passing by, and might even have noted who she was with.’

‘A very sensible notion,’ the housekeeper approved. ‘Not that I think you’ll get much joy of it. There’s so much traffic around the gate, what with the workmen, folk visiting the hospital or the Bedlam or the alehouse, and the cottagers in and out of the city all the time, that one woman, or a man and a woman, could easily pass unremarked. Not that I’m trying to deter you, Master Chapman. Indeed, I blame myself — ’ she glanced scornfully at Clemency and Sybilla as she spoke, clearly indicating that it was not merely herself she blamed — ‘for failing to have done so already. But better late than never. And now I must go and see what disaster has befallen in the kitchen during my absence. With only Audrey in charge, we shall be lucky to get any supper at all.’

I recollected that the other maid had been sent to Westminster, a long journey for the poor child on foot, to find Oswald and wondered how soon we could expect to see him. I hoped not too soon; I suspected his presence would only add to the general sense of doom.

I took my cudgel to lean on, glad of its support as I trudged south again in the direction of the Bishop’s Gate. Arbella Rokeswood had been right, there were plenty of people about on a warm May Day afternoon. Even though the drovers and swineherds had driven their animals to market far earlier in the day, there were still carters bringing in wagonloads of vegetables and plants from smallholdings further up the track, in the hope of making a late sale to those goodwives who had been out bringing in the may that morning.

I pressed on, my eyes constantly searching the crowds, desperately seeking for a glimpse of Celia’s trim form.

‘Roger! Roger Chapman!’

I turned my head quickly, trying to see who was calling my name.

‘Roger!’ Father Berowne was beside me, a detaining hand on my shoulder. ‘Is anything wrong? Why are you wearing that worried frown? And why aren’t you laid down upon your bed? You’re still far from well and shouldn’t be junketing about the countryside in this foolish fashion.’

‘Father!’ I exclaimed thankfully. ‘You haven’t by any chance seen Celia pass this way any time today, have you? She’s been missing from the Arbour since this morning, after breakfast.’

He smiled tolerantly. ‘She’s a grown woman, Roger. There’s probably a perfectly simple explanation for her absence. But yes, now you ask, I think I may have seen her earlier today, before dinner in fact. She was wearing that blue cloak of hers and going towards the city.’