‘What do I have to do to take him home?’ I asked.
‘Just sign ’im out, miss. Then you’ll be takin’ ’im back to Penzance, will you?’
‘Yes,’ I lied. ‘Back home.’
‘Right you are.’ The policeman sighed. ‘You can tell ’im that we don’t appreciate drunkards in Tintagel, as well. This is a nice village. If ’ee wants to go around pretendin’ ’ee’s the lord of the manor, ’ee can do it down south.’
‘Of course, officer,’ I replied, following him to the heavy wooden desk where he gestured for me to sit down. Nancy followed and stood behind me.
The policeman passed me a piece of paper and showed me where to sign.
‘This says that I’m releasin’ your husband to your custody. Write your name an’ address there.’ He pointed to a blank space. On the spur of the moment, I conjured up a fake address and wrote it down.
Well, that was that.I’d committed a crime. Perjured myself, or something similar, but I didn’t care. I was already in 1867 under false pretences, and I didn’t have any intention to stay any longer than I had to.
‘Right then. Wait here an’ I’ll get ’im.’ The man heaved himself up from behind the desk and went back to the cells.
‘That’s ’im, then? Your Lord Trevarron?’ Nancy murmured as we waited. I nodded.
‘Yes.’ My heart was still pounding.
‘Dear Lord.’ She crossed herself. ‘You really weren’t makin’ it up.’
They waited in silence, but William didn’t appear. Finally, after about ten minutes, the policeman returned, looking chagrined.
‘’Ee won’t come.’ he said. ‘Says ’ee’d rather stay in the cell.’
‘What?’ I gasped.
The policeman shrugged. ‘Can’t say I get a lot o’ people whatwant to stay in the cells, especially if they ’ad a nice young lady like you to go ’ome with. But, there’s no way o’ knowin’ what’s in people’s minds.’
‘Can I see him?’ I asked.
‘Aye. Maybe you should go an’ speak to ’im, miss.’ He led me back to where we’d just been. ‘I’ll give you a moment,’ he added, kindly.
I stood outside of the iron door again and looked inside the cell.
‘William. What’s wrong?’ I asked quietly. He was pacing the cell like an agitated bear; his footsteps rung out heavily on the stone floor.
‘Go away,’ he grumbled, glancing up at the cell door and then back at his feet. ‘I don’t want to see you, Tegan. And I don’t want you to see me like this.’
‘What? No. I’m not leaving you. Don’t be silly.’ I watched as he continued to pace the small cell. ‘You’ve been released. You can come with me.’
I deliberately resisted using the phraseyou can come home, because I was afraid of what he might say. William’s home was Trevarron House, after all. I didn’t want the police to think that William was still delusional for thinking that he was the Lord of Trevarron, even though he was – just, in the wrong time.
‘I don’t want to. Go away.’ He turned his back to me. I could see the anger in his rigid shoulders; the stiffness in his gait that showed his tension.
‘You’re being ridiculous,’ I hissed in a low voice, so that the policeman couldn’t hear. ‘William. This is a gaol. You can’t stay here.’
‘Tegan. Leave me alone,’ he repeated. ‘I forbid you to stay here any longer. Do as I say!’
‘Do you realise what will happen to you if you stay here?’ I asked, incredulous. ‘You’ll get sent to the workhouse, or an asylum, if they think you’re mad enough. At the moment they just think you had a few too many drinks. For goodness’ sake, William. Come with me!’
‘I don’t know what a workhouse is, but whatever it is, they wouldn’tdare. I am Lord of Trevarron!’ William raised his voice; I shushed him.
‘William. They can take you to a place and imprison you there just for being poor and drunk and, in their eyes, worthless. They can make you do manual labour for years. You wouldn’t have any choice in the matter,’ I whispered. ‘I know you’re confused. I know that you don’t understand what happened. But you have to come with me, or you won’t survive.’
‘Such places can’t exist,’ he scoffed, but there was doubt at the edge of his voice. ‘Tegan. I am not confused. I am livid!’ He banged his fist against the cell door, and I jumped back in shock. ‘How could you know what I feel? A few days ago I was the Lord of Trevarron. In the course of knowing you, I found myself under suspicion by the police, chased through the grounds of my ancestral home and then, through some kind ofwitchcraft,I find myself in those same grounds, but treated as a beggar by people I have no recognition of!’ He had raised his voice again and I shushed him, terrified that the policeman might hear and decide to send William to the asylum.
