We crossed to the door and entered, but it was too dark to see—at least for me. Harker removed his spectacles and peered up at what remained of the painting.
After a few moments, he pointed to something and said, “Those look like roses.”
My eyes had adjusted enough that I could just make out the blotches of color along the arrow shafts that I’d noticed before. “So they do. You’re thinking of the rose in the teapot?”
He nodded and rubbed a thumb over his chin. “I wonder if the story’s not literal.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Rose water in my vital essence made me terribly ill,” he continued. “Maybe because it’s poison to Goosevar. Could be it wasn’t arrows that killed him at all. Maybe the priest poisoned him.”
This reminded me of something. “When last I was here, Father Kelly told me St. Gomonda was anapothecary.”
Harker’s brows lifted with interest, but then I recalled, “You saw actual arrows, though. In your memory of his death.”
His gaze went back to the painting. “Mmm. Let’s think it over awhile. We’ll make our visit to The Magpie. Once we’re home, we’ll see if we can work it out.”
My heart fluttered.Once we’re home.Together. Because we were married. It still didn’t feel real.
We left the tower and passed back through the churchyard, then crossed the road to The Magpie. The aroma of scones drifted on the air, and I thought it must be close to opening by now.
I led Harker around to the back garden, through the drooping sunflowers and glistening spiderwebs, and tapped on the kitchen door.
My employer appeared, eyes going wide at the sight of us. “Heavens,” she said, standing frozen only a moment before stepping back from the door. “Come in out of the damp. So many visitors this morning. Let me get you both a cup of tea.”
I started to urge her not to trouble herself, but she went to work quickly, seeming flustered. Her uneasiness had me worrying that some unsavory rumor had reached her already.
While the tea steeped, she arranged scones, cream, and jam on a plate. Finally she set it all before us, pouring our tea before sitting on a stool across the worktable from us.
“I’m so pleased to see you recovered, Mina,” she said. “It’s been lonely here without you.” Her eyes wandered to Harker.
“I’ve missed you, too, ma’am,” I said, adding milk to my tea. “I want to introduce you to Harker Tregarrick, of Roche Rock. We’ve come to you with some news.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir.” She smiled, but it was strained. “Before you share your news, I think I best tell the both of you—young Jeremy Martin was just here, and the constable, too. It seems Jeremy was on your estate, Mr. Tregarrick, and ...” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, another body has been discovered.”
My hand jerked, tipping my cup and spilling tea over the table.
Jack!
“Fare Thee Well”
Harker
With practiced speed, Mrs. Moyle grabbed a towel and stanched the pool of milky tea.
“Who was it, Mrs. Moyle?” I asked, knowing what Mina feared.
The lady shivered and shook her head. If she suspected me like others seemed to, she did a fine job of concealing it. Though she clearly wasn’t altogether comfortable.
“Jeremy found the body in a pool on the heath,” she said. I believed the young poacher I’d spoken to was called Jeremy. The lad had apparently disregarded my warning. “He came here frightened half to death,” continued Mrs. Moyle, “and I sent for Mr. Hilliard. The poor boy wasn’t making a great deal of sense, but the constable seemed to piece together that by the state of the remains, the death wasn’t a recent one.”
Mina’s posture eased, and she and I exchanged a glance. I said, “May I ask where they’ve gone?”
“Back out to the heath so Jeremy can show him. They left not ten minutes ago.”
To Mina I said, “I should go and meet them there.”
She nodded. “We’ll both go.”
