‘I’m sorry to hear about that,’ Nancy replied. ‘I can ’ave a look at the cards for you, if you like. See what Sheba’s up to?’
‘’Tis a cryin’ shame she decided that Cullen lad was the one to pin her hopes on.’ Nettie sighed again. ‘Still, we’ve ’ad all the excitement this week, ain’t we, Melza?’
Melza was young, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, with a serious expression and dark brown hair pulled sharply away from her face in a bun. She nodded, seriously.
‘Oh? What be ’appenin’?’ I had noticed that Nancy had deepened her accent when she’d started talking to Nettie. I wondered if it was on purpose or just something she automatically did to put people at ease.
‘Well, ’twas just yesterday, in fact,’ Nettie began, taking a cup of tea from Melza and passing it to me. ‘Normal day; there was a load of society ladies in town, sightseein’ an’ what ’ave you, so we were workin’ ’ard to make sure they were ’appy when they came in. Anyway. I sent Clarrie out to get some more milk from the dairy, an’ lo an’ behold, she runs into some kind of drifter outside the tea shop, just wanderin’ around. Injured, too, wasn’t ’ee?’ She turned to Melza, who was sipping her tea quietly.
I took my cup gratefully and gulped down half of it, hoping itwould calm my nerves a little. My leg had stopped its jiggling, but I was sweating with the tension of not knowing what had happened to William, and pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I put the cup down and wiped my forehead surreptitiously with my sleeve.
‘Aye. Blood all down his shirt. Terrible state, ’ee was.’ She tutted.
‘Oh, really?’ Nancy raised an eyebrow. ‘’Course, there are tramps, round an’ about. I daresay ’ee was one o’ they?—’
‘Well, ’ee might’ve been. Mad, ’ee was. Said that ’ee was lord of the manor, standin’ there with his blood-soaked clothes, an’ a wild look in ’is eyes. Lord of the manor! As if! The constable came along, took one look at ’im and took ’im off to gaol before you could say Jack Robinson,’ Nettie interjected. ‘Worst case o’ madness I seen in a long time. I felt quite sorry for ’im, really.’
‘Lord of the manor?’ I asked, my voice shaking. Nancy exchanged a glance with me. I looked away, keen to ensure that I didn’t look too interested, but my heart was beating wildly.
‘Oh, you’re not from here. I forget.’ Nettie nodded. ‘We ’ave a lord an’ lady, down this way. The Trevarrons, over near St Nantes,’ Nettie explained, patiently. I tried to play dumb, and nodded. ‘Well, I know what Lord Albert looks like, an’ this definitely wasn’t ’im. Big brute the drifter was, that I will say. It took three of the constables to subdue him, an’ get ’im in the carriage.’
‘You don’t say?’ Nancy cooed. ‘Why d’you think ’ee was sayin’ ’ee was the lord of the manor, though? I can’t think of a time I’ve ’eard a tramp claim that. Not that I talk much to tramps,’ she added, hastily.
‘Oh, ’oo knows, my duck? But I’ll tell you one strange thing. ’Isclotheswere very odd. Not dressed like a tramp at all.’
Could it be?
Could Nettie be talking about William?
When I’d left him in 1755, he’d been stabbed in a fight, and it was only in my final moments with him that I realised the extent of his injuries. I’d tried to pull him with me into the time portal, thinking that I could save him, but we were torn apart – he waspulled away from me at the last moment by the police constables sent by Lord Favisham, the man intent on stealing William’s estate.
‘What did he look like? Apart from the clothes?’ I leaned forward, aware that I must look very serious, but I couldn’t help it. I needed to know.
‘Oh. Well, ’ee was tall, like I said. Big. Strong, like an ox. Black ’air. Dark eyes. Not that old. Apart from the fact ’ee needed a bath an’ a change o’ clothes, ’ee was a good-lookin’ fella. Just mad.’ She sighed.
‘Well. What a strange affair,’ Nancy said, raising one eyebrow surreptitiously at me. ‘I wonder what will become of that poor beggar.’
‘After gaol? An asylum, no doubt, or the workhouse, somewhere.’ Nettie sniffed. ‘I ’as sympathy, but I ’ave to look after my girls. An’ the shopkeepers got to think about tourists. We can’t ’ave some madman wanderin’ around.’
‘Indeed, indeed,’ Nancy tutted, her tone conciliatory. ‘You did right.’
‘Mind you, I wonder what milord would say if ’ee ’eard there was some big bugger walkin’ around, pretendin’ to be ’im?’ Nettie chuckled.
‘Whatwouldthe current lord do?’ In my mind, there was only William, his bookish sister, Edith, and their horrible brother, Charles. I couldn’t imagine another family being at the house.
‘Oh, maid.’ Nettie shook her head. ‘We keeps out of milord’s way. Prone to tempers, he is. A shame, because Lady Hermione – that’s his wife, Lady Trevarron – she’s as meek as milk, an’ little Lady Violet, too. It’s a big party for ’er up at the ’ouse soon, by the way, bless ’er little soul, though I feels for ’er. Lord Albert takes after the Favisham side of the family, let’s say.’
I looked at her blankly.
‘The Favishams were – are – another wealthy family in Cornwall. Their ancestral home’s Penlivet. A few generations ago, there was a Lord Favisham that married the Lady Trevarron of the time. She’d become the heir because ’er older brother had disappeared instrange circumstances, and the younger brother, I think ’ee was killed in a huntin’ accident. So that Lord Favisham became Lord Trevarron and the families was bound since then.’
‘He was a terror, that Lord Favisham, so I heard,’ Nancy interjected.
‘Aye. Violent, too,’ Nettie said. ‘’Course, this was, what? Three generations ago? The Favishams doubled their wealth when ’ee married Lady Edith Trevarron. ’Ee became a peer in the ’Ouse of Lords after that. Passed it down, so that milord is, too. Passed ’is temper down too, I ’eard,’ she added. ‘I do ’ope ’ee don’t lose ’is temper at poor Miss Violet’s birthday party.’
There was a lot to take in there. However, I couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘big brute’ that had been covered in blood, and the fact that it had taken three policemen to overpower him.
‘Where is the gaol?’ I couldn’t help interrupting. ‘Is it in Tintagel? Here?’
