His manner was abrupt, and there was a slight stammer on some of his consonants. Yet his manner was friendly, with a sunny smile—slightly lessened in effectiveness by the lack of front teeth. Alice Milner smiled in return, and nodded her head ruefully.
“I hope for miracles,” she said. “But I have no right to expect them. Let me begin at the very beginning.”
She pulled her hood forward to protect her from the rain, which was coming again in another heavy shower.
“You are quite right, I was born in Norfolk but not raised here. My parents live now in Plymouth, but we have our roots in East Anglia. Three years ago, I left the West Country and went to study the Asian cultures in London.” She grimaced. “From Papa’s reaction, one might think I had gone to sell my body to some of London’s gambling bucks. He became inured to the idea after a year or two, the more so when I met and was wooed by Philip Alderton. My parents in their usual fashion checked Philip’s family background when I wrote about him, and were much relieved to learn that the Aldertons have lived in Lambeth with mill and manor since the Conquest. Had father checked more than stability and prosperity, he might have been less sanguine.”
“I have heard nothing of Philip Alderton,” said Darwin. “As Ledyard has described it to me in his letters, Charles Alderton is the head of the house, and the flint pit is on Alderton land. Is Philip his son?”
“His nephew. Charles Alderton died two months ago, without issue, and Philip inherited this estate as the closest living relative. That death has added to the superstitions in Lambeth. Uncle Charles died alone, in Alderton Pit. James Ledyard says it was a normal enough death, of some kind of seizure, but the villagers rumor otherwise. The landlord of the Lambeth Inn—you will meet him shortly—is full of a strange tale of the Alderton’s family doom, that goes back for more than a hundred years. The innkeeper claims that Charles Alderton is merely the latest victim.”
“Every old family has its tales of disaster,” said Darwin. “It is no more than a consequence of record-keeping. Misfortunes will befall any line in ten generations, and you should be surprised if there were no family skeletons. So Philip came here to claim his inheritance, did he, and you came with him. What do your parents think of that?”
“They do not approve. They think me forward and imprudent. But I arrived here only last week. Philip’s departure from London on the occasion of Charles Alderton’s death was sudden. I stayed on at Dowgate Stairs and continued my studies, until Philip sent me a letter urging my presence here.”
They were approaching the village, a huddle of poor houses standing around a common. A handsome old church and a Tudor inn stood opposite each other in the center, the sacred facing the profane. Past the village, the ground rose gently in a low hill. At its crest stood the manor, and slightly to the north of it on a second slope the sweeps of the mill turned slowly in the northern breeze. Alice Milner stared ahead at the peaceful prospect. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.
“I must say the life of a Lambeth rustic has little appeal to me—although Philip has been extolling the virtues of his position as lord of the manor since my arrival. He insists that my interest in antiquities should imply an interest in Alderton, since the manor, mill and flint pit are all of great age. The heating of the manor certainly bears him out. It is a drafty icebox.”
Her tone was light, but there was a thin tremble in her voice that made Darwin look hard at her hands and face.
“Perhaps you should be riding in the coach, madam. Jacob or I can take the stallion. I believe that you are much in need of food and rest.”
Alice Milner took a deep breath and sat up straighter in the saddle. “No, I can manage well enough until we reach the inn.” She looked at Darwin with new interest. “As you surmise, I am not feeling well. There was little sleep for me last night because of worry, and no food yet this morning. Even so, I would have sworn that my fatigue was well concealed.”
Jacob Pole gave a harsh bark of laughter. He lifted his head clear of the leather cloak. “From me, my dear, and from most people. But don’t hope to hide anything from Erasmus. He can spot disease where any other would see nothing. He will see it in the way that you walk or eat or speak—or in nothing at all, if you are merely sitting. I remember the case of the Countess of Northesk, when she came this year desperately ill to Lichfield—”
“Now, Jacob,” interrupted Darwin. “This is no time for your cock-and-bull stories of medical practice. Miss Milner has yet to tell us of her fiancй’s accident, and we will soon be at the inn.” He turned to her. “If you are not too weary, my dear, pray continue with your account. I doubt that there will be privacy for discussion in the public rooms of the inn.”
She nodded. “Especially in Lambeth. The Alderton’s family business is everyone’s business here. Let me continue.
“As you will see if you ride the countryside, the mill ahead of us is the only one for a good distance. Since this is mainly wheat country, the wheels are very busy, and several villages come to this estate for their grinding. Just before I arrived here, Philip had asked Bretherton—he is the chief servant at the manor—why the mill is worked only to sunset. I should add that although Philip was born at the manor, he has not lived there since he was a small child, and he is not familiar with local habits. Bretherton told him that no one from the village will work the mill after dark. They fear the place.”
“Do they, indeed.” Darwin clicked his tongue softly, making the old mare prick up her ears. “Now you intrigue me. It must be a strong superstition, if it will stand between a Norfolk villager and his pocketbook. Is this a new fancy, acquired with the death of Charles Alderton near the mill?”
“Not at all. It goes back many years—many generations, if Bretherton and the villagers can be believed. As a result of it, Philip had to turn away grain from a big farm in Blakeney, just two days ago. Without night work, there was no way the mill could grind the corn by the time it was needed. The mill produces good revenues for the manor. As you might imagine, Philip became very angry. Yesterday, he declared that he would run the mill at night himself, to prove that the fears of the villagers were ridiculous. I didn’t care for his idea, but he scoffed at my worries. There happened to be a good easterly wind, and the mill is perfectly placed to catch one. At sunset, he went down to the mill with one of the newer servants from the manor, Tom Barton. Philip offered him a guinea for the night’s work. Barton had not been long enough at the manor to be steeped in the tales of the mill and the pit, and he had a reputation for greed.”
“Had a reputation?” Darwin reacted to the odd choice of tense.
Their companion was silent for a moment, looking away from them across the canal. The rain was moving north, to the sea beyond the gentle hill slopes ahead, and the summer air was wonderfully clear. Ripples of wind moved across the ripe wheat, field after field shaking the droplets from their laden heads.
“Yes,” she said at last. “Tom Barton and Philip were found this morning in the Alderton Pit, by the villagers arriving for work at the mill. Barton was dead. Philip was badly injured and unconscious from loss of blood. Both men had terrible wounds.”
The flowering poppies showed like specks of venous blood in the gold of the corn fields. The air was suddenly colder as the sun went behind a lingering rain cloud.
“Old Hezekiah Prescott was in the group that found them,” said Alice. “He went back to spread the word around the village. The Lambeth Immortal has come back.”
They had come to the mean houses that marked the edge of the village. Young children ran to meet the coach, and followed it at a respectful distance as Alice led the way to the courtyard of the inn and dismounted.