The Rose Garden

I stood a moment at a loss, until I suddenly remembered there had been wine in the dining room when we had eaten lunch there – several bottles lying dusty in a corner near the sideboard. I had no idea whether they were Daniel Butler’s best or not, but that’s what he’d been drinking so the wine would not be bad.

I gave a small nod to excuse myself and hustled off in that direction, hoping that the bottles would still be there. And they were. I grabbed the top one, wiped the dust off with my hand and took it back to give to the constable, in hopes that would get rid of him.

He wasn’t where I’d left him in the kitchen. Apprehensive, I stood still beside the hearth a moment, listening. He wouldn’t have gone far, I knew. I’d only been a minute. But I also knew his aim in coming up here in the first place must have been to look around, and he was obviously taking full advantage of my absence.

Then I heard him. In the scullery.

My mouth went dry so suddenly I found it hard to swallow down the nervous lump that lodged itself above my heart. My jacket and my boots were in the scullery, and if he found them …

I could feel my fingers clenching round the bottle’s neck so tightly that my fingernails were digging in my palm as I went through into the scullery to join him. To my great relief, I saw that he had not yet moved the sacking on the floor. His interest seemed to be directed at the pantry cupboard with its lock.

‘Tell me,’ he asked idly, ‘does your brother always lock the food away when he does leave you on your own?’ His glance toward me held no expectation of an answer, but his eyes were watchful on my face for my reaction. ‘Or might there be more in here than food?’

I kept my own face neutral, trying hard not to react at all, not even when he walked towards the sacking. But he only kicked it to one side and reached for a short-handled axe that leant against the wall behind. I hadn’t even known the tool was there, myself. The constable had sharper eyes.

‘We must not let you starve,’ he said, with mock concern. He brought the axe down with a force that broke the locked door cleanly and the cupboard swung wide open.

I hadn’t been too sure, myself, what he might find inside. For all I knew there might be contraband behind the food, but after he had opened the few tins and shoved some sacks aside, he muttered something to himself and stood a moment, thinking. Then he turned his head and looked at me.

I really didn’t like his eyes. They made my flesh crawl cold.

He’d thought of something, I could see it in the way his mouth began to curve. He asked me, ‘Are you in the house alone?’

And how was I to answer that? He obviously knew that Daniel Butler and the rest were gone away somewhere, and if there had been anybody here with me I wouldn’t have been trying on my own to light the fire. No matter how much my protective instincts warned me not to give a truthful answer, I knew full well that I wouldn’t fool him if I lied. I gave a slow nod.

‘Well then, I do think it would be wise were I to make a full inspection of this house and all its rooms, that I might satisfy myself as to your safety.’

There was nothing I could do to stop him anyway, but still he’d picked a clever way to word things so that neither I nor anyone could argue his intentions.

He carried the axe with him out of the scullery and when I followed he turned round and using the blade, pointed back at the kitchen. ‘No mistress, wait there. I would do this alone.’

He was gone for a long time. Long enough for me to think about escaping to the stables or the woods, but with the storm outside it seemed a foolish thing to do, and anyway my fear was slowly melting into anger at his arrogant intrusion, and a part of me refused to give him any satisfaction, so I didn’t run. Whatever happened, I’d at least be able to tell Daniel what the constable had done. And what he’d found.

With the wind at the window I couldn’t hear what he was doing upstairs, though. I didn’t know what he was touching, defiling. It was, I thought, rather like having a rat roaming unseen behind your walls, doing its damage.

I was happy to see, when he came back down, that his hard face had the look of frustration, as though he’d been cheated. Clearly he hadn’t found what he’d been looking for.

Passing the scullery door he stopped briefly to throw down the axe he was holding. It fell with a clatter and thud on the flagstones. ‘Well, Mistress O’Cleary.’ His tone was a challenge. I saw his gaze fall on the bottle that I was still holding. ‘Would that be my wine? Give it here, then.’

Heavily he sat beside me, took a small knife from his pocket and pried out the seal, and then took a long drink from the bottle itself. And another. Then wiping his mouth on his sleeve he said, ‘It may be that I am approaching this wrongly. Perhaps I have only to ask, hm?’ He angled his head and his eyes fixed themselves on my own. ‘Have you had any visitors here to Trelowarth of late? Any men of high birth?’

Very carefully, I shook my head.

‘You would do well to tell me the truth, mistress, for I remind you that this country’s laws of high treason can give no protection to those who might shelter a traitor.’ His voice held a velvet contempt as he added, ‘Nor even for those who would take one to bed.’ His glance flicked down my length and back as he drank deep from the bottle again, and when I failed to react to the insult he said, ‘Do not flatter yourself that he holds you in any regard. Do you know why he gives you that gown? To give life to a ghost. Any whore could fulfil the same purpose.’