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.’