Page 44 of Witchbane

I needed to find out more before the man decided he had had enough and left.

‘Where did your cousin say he saw him?’

He scratched his head without shifting his eyes from Warrior’s hooves. ‘From what I recall, he was living in a square brick house on the outskirts of High Marcham. There’s a hawthorn hedge growing back from either side of the gate, my cousin said. He heard the property was owned by an elderly distant cousin of His Lordship.’

‘And you told no one about this?’

He glanced up at me. ‘No. Swore to my cousin not to. He liked His Lordship and thought he had suffered enough with all that humiliation of Her Ladyship being discovered to be a witch.’ I saw a nasty glint in the man’s eye but hid my distaste. ‘I can’t say I care about him either way, but my cousin is younger than me and can have a nasty temper, so apart from telling you now, I’ve kept this to myself.’

He gave me an expectant look and I realised why I was being treated to this information. My father’s reputation probably preceded me: he was known to offer money for valuable news.

I pushed a hand into my inside jacket pocket and withdrew a shilling, which I dropped into the man’s hand. He smiled, clearly satisfied with his payment.

I quickly mulled over his story and found an inconsistency. ‘Your cousin saw the house himself, is that right?’ I couldn’t hide my surprise that someone wanting privacy would let an ex-stableboy know where he lived.

The man shrugged. ‘Not exactly.’

Fearing that my lead was no more than hearsay, I winced. ‘How then?’

He shrugged. ‘My cousin was in the inn having a drink after work when he spotted him sitting in the corner. He was alone and seemed very down. He waited for him to leave and followed him at a safe distance. His Lordship didn’t see him, as far as my cousin was aware.’

‘I see.’ This was valuable information. If it happened a while back and Rue’s father was none the wiser, I might be able to catch him off-guard. Maybe if I turned up at his home and surprised him, without giving him a chance to think clearly, he would be more open to answering my questions about his daughter. It was a tentative plan at best, but all I had.

‘I’m grateful for the information you have given me,’ I said.

‘Thank you for your kindness, sir,’ he said. ‘I hope you find him and obtain what you need from him.’

Without another word, I urged Warrior into a canter to make up the time we had lost, hoping it wouldn’t take very long to reach High Marcham. I had been there once before when I was a small child. How strange that I might have been standing near Lord Thistlebury and not known the significance of that moment. I recalled the man’s noble portrait in the hallway of the manor, and his imperious gaze down his nose. The expertise of the artist had given him an air of importance that I supposed Lord Thistlebury felt he deserved.

Would I recognise him as he was now, should I be lucky enough to find him? I had only seen his image once and then only briefly.

I eventually reached High Marcham.

Not wanting to be seen by many people in case someone decided to tip off Lord Thistlebury, I chose instead to circle the outskirts of High Marcham and find the house that had been described to me. Eventually I came upon a brick house, with hawthorn hedges neatly trimmed on either side of the entrance gates. This was the property I hoped was Lord Thistlebury’s present home. It occurred to me that he might be using a different name now. Wouldn’t that be something I might do if I was trying not to be traced? I needed to tread carefully; I wasn’t certain how best to approach him.

It had been a long day, and if this was his home I was glad I had followed my intuition that he hadn’t moved far. I wondered why that might be. Surely, if you wanted to hide from people who knew you, wouldn’t you go somewhere far away, or at least to one of the other Channel Islands where you were less known? Why would he stay so close to his family home yet not let his relatives know he was nearby – or even alive?

The answer came to me as I rode slowly up his drive. Maybe he simply wanted to be close to his daughter, so that he could either return and help her if necessary, or ensure someone else did so while he himself preserved his anonymity. If that was the case, then presumably he hadn’t heard about her difficulties with my father. And with me, I reminded myself guiltily.

The best way to gain his support might be to appeal to his fatherly instincts towards Rue, if indeed he had any. I could be honest about my identity and why I had been sent to investigate her. Ultimately I needed to persuade him that he probably held the answer that would free her from the allegations.

That decided, I felt more confident about approaching him uninvited. Now was the time to follow my instincts, knock at the door and ask to see him. I hoped he would be so surprised to find me on his doorstep that he would answer my questions without hesitation.

I tried to recall his features and hoped that my few seconds looking at his portrait had been enough. I needed to know immediately if the man I was speaking to was Lord Thistlebury.

I didn’t come across any servants on the short ride up his drive. Everything appeared peaceful. I hoped it meant our meeting wouldn’t be interrupted.

I tied Warrior’s reins around a gatepost and walked with as much confidence as I could muster up the front pathway. How should I refer to him when a servant answered the front door? If he was hiding behind a different name then the servant would be puzzled by a request for ‘His Lordship’. Too late to worry about that. I removed my hat and knocked on the door.

The sound of footsteps on a flagstone floor grew louder and then the door opened.

Chapter Twenty-Two

RUE

Isat with Jem, listening to him trying to persuade me to leave. It was blissfully cool sitting outside on the tumbledown dry-stone wall behind the barn, but that didn’t calm my fear.

‘We both know I daren’t go anywhere, Jem. I won’t have it on my conscience that I’ve endangered anyone else’s life. I’m not my father and have no intention of turning my back on anyone here.’