I thought of Brisbane, bashed and knocked by every circ.u.mstance life could throw at him, and I thought of the man he had become in spite of the trials he had suffered. And then Ailith Allenby, with such natural advantages and a cosseted upbringing, would have been the agent of his destruction if she could have managed it.

But I dared not say those things aloud. There were too many stories circulating at present, and none of them was the whole truth. The jury at the inquest would be given no hint that anything at Grimsgrave had been amiss. A simple, tragic accident, they would call it, and the case would be closed.

The inhabitants of the Hall knew better. They knew Ailith's character, and they knew she had intended harm when she set off for the crag. She had hurt Valerius, almost mortally, and attacked Brisbane and myself before falling to her death. Only Brisbane and I knew the full truth, and it was a secret we would hold between us.

As so often happens with my sister, she intuited my thoughts and asked the question I had been hoping would slip her mind.

"Why would Ailith want to kill Brisbane? First the poisoned mushrooms, then following him to the crag? It makes no sense."

Mrs. b.u.t.ters looked at me, but I let my gaze slide away as I forked up another bit of breakfast.

"She wanted to be revenged upon her mother for the loss of her children. We discussed that yesterday," I said easily, pa.s.sing smoothly over the true motive, the motive I had not even discussed with Brisbane yet, but the reason I believed to be the truth. "Lady Allenby was usually the one who prepared the bottled mushrooms. It would be an easy matter to convince a jury that her mother had wanted to dispose of Brisbane in order to regain control of her property, or some such nonsense. Believe me, Ailith would have given testimony to some plausible motive while weeping crocodile tears over her mother's fate."

"I wonder if Lady Allenby did kill Redwall," Portia mused. "I asked Valerius about quinine this morning. He shouted a bit because his head hurt, but he did say that if Redwall had already been dosing himself heavily with the stuff, it would have been an easy matter to strengthen the dose to a fatal one."

"Madness," I muttered. "I cannot believe that elegant old woman was capable of murdering her own son." But even as I said it, I realised I did believe it. She had taken bold, drastic action when Ailith delivered a pair of incestuous, illegitimate twins. What else might she have been prepared to do to prevent sin and scandal from polluting the atmosphere of her home?

THE THIRTIETH CHAPTER.

The G.o.ds are just.

-William Shakespeare.

King Lear.

The inquest proceeded precisely as Brisbane had predicted. The coroner and the men of his jury journeyed out to the crag to see for themselves the location of Ailith Allenby's death. Then they retired to The Hanging Tree to view the body and conduct the inquisition of the witnesses.

Brisbane was called first, and must have made a tremendous impression upon them. He had dressed carefully in sombre black, but for him the choice was not merely appropriately doleful. Black always lent him an elegant authority, and coupled with his skin, still pale beneath its olive cast, and his imperious black gaze, he was a formidable witness. He took great care when he moved not to betray any sign of the wound he had sustained to his ribs, moving with all the grave dignity of an elder statesman and bearing a striking resemblance to Grim. I noticed that he had permitted a lock of hair to tumble over his brow, neatly obscuring the thin cut from Ailith Allenby's knife. I was not permitted to hear him give testimony, and I waited in the upper sitting room alone, twisting my gloves into knots as I listened to the low rumble of masculine voices rising and falling through the floorboards at my feet.

At length there was a scratch at the door and the coroner himself appeared. He was an elderly man, with great flyaway tufts of candy floss white hair and the most impressive set of eyebrows I had ever seen. His manner was gentle and very kindly, and he put me in mind of a country parson.

He gave me a rheumy smile and nodded as I rose.

"Lady Julia Grey? Nee March?"

"I am she," I said, my voice holding steady. I put out my hand and he took it in both of his. I offered him a chair next to mine and we settled ourselves. He watched me from under those spectacular brows for a long moment, so long in fact that I wondered if he had fallen asleep. But then he cleared his throat and came to the point.

"My dear, I have never approved of the questioning of ladies when it can possibly be avoided. Now, if you will disclose to me what you meant to tell the jury, I will confirm to them that Mr. Brisbane's testimony has been corroborated, and there will be no necessity for you to display yourself before the gentlemen of the jury."

I smoothed my skirts, hardly knowing how to reply. "I am not afraid to do my duty, sir. I am perfectly willing to be questioned before the jury."

He shook his head, wisps of untidy white hair fluttering about his ears. "Oh, no. I would want no granddaughter of mine forced to such an exigency, and I will not ask it of a granddaughter of Mercutio March."

I stared at him, a slow smile spreading over my face. "You knew Grandpapa."

He nodded. "We were at Eton together. Such a character, he was. Oh, he ought to have been too grand to notice the likes of me. He was already the earl, and in command of a great estate. I was sent there on charity subscriptions and wore third-hand clothes. But he stopped me being flogged by one of the older boys, and I never forgot it."

He paused, smiling at his recollections. "I saw him once, many years later, in London. He was riding past in his carriage, a grand equipage it was, with footmen and plumed horses and his coat of arms blazoned on the door. I was standing on the kerb, waiting to cross. I would never have presumed to make myself known to him, but he knew me. He made the driver stop the carriage and leapt out to embrace me and call me friend."

He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his moist eyes. "He called me friend, Mercutio March, the earl. And I made up my mind that I would never allow any opportunity to do him or his family good pa.s.s me by."

"I see," I said, folding my hands in my lap.

"Now, I understand Mr. Brisbane is your betrothed?"

"Yes," I said, my throat going suddenly dry.

"Then we may a.s.sume that whatever he told us is what you yourself witnessed and are prepared to swear to?"

"Yes," I affirmed.

"Ailith Allenby fell from Thorn Crag?"

"Ailith Allenby fell from Thorn Crag," I echoed.

"And there is no question of suicide?" he asked. I hesitated and he went on, quite oblivious to my pause. "I dearly hope not. Suicide is a dirty and desperate business. One never likes to have a verdict of suicide returned."

I was struck then by how he had phrased his last question and I gave him a gracious smile and squared my shoulders. "No, sir. There is no question in my mind whether Ailith Allenby committed suicide or not."

He beamed at me and reached out to pat my hand. "Very good. Now I have only to tell the gentlemen that you have corroborated Mr. Brisbane's story, and there will be no need for you to be questioned." He paused. "I do hope you will not think me too forward, but I hope you have had that cut on your cheek attended to. It would be a shame for so lovely a face to be marked."

I put a hand to my cheek, brushing one gloved fingertip over the souvenir of that fateful day on Thorn Crag.

"Not at all," I told him, smiling. "You are very kind."

He was quite pink to the tips of his ears, and it occurred to me that he was really rather flirtatious.

He rose and bowed deeply. "Thank you, my dear lady. You have been most helpful."

He scurried out then, after several more protestations of goodwill and grat.i.tude on his part, and I was left alone, staring into the fire and reflecting that Brisbane had been quite wrong: even here, in the wilds of Yorkshire, the March name still carried the day.

The coroner's jury had business yet, and I waited upstairs for Brisbane. A few minutes after the coroner left me, there was another scratch at the door, this time it was Miss Jerusha Earnshaw bearing a tea tray. I exclaimed in surprised pleasure to see her.

"Miss Earnshaw! I thought you would have returned to your employer's house by now."

She placed the tea carefully on the little table at my elbow and gave me a rueful smile. "I am afraid my mistress is rather given to the habit of gossip. She read about Miss Allenby's death in the newspapers and wants me to stay until the inquest is finished and I can provide her with the most complete story."

The words were correct, but there was a thread of disapproval. Jerusha Earnshaw might not mind sharing a t.i.tbit or two with me, but she did not much care for gossiping with her mistress.

I looked at the tea tray, puzzled. "There is only one cup. Don't you mean to join me?"

Her mouth was prim. "I would not dream of imposing, Lady Julia."

"Don't be silly. Go and fetch another cup. I would be glad of the company. If you like," I finished feebly, realising how imperious I had sounded.

But if I had been bossy, Miss Earnshaw did not mind. "I will be but a moment."

She fetched another cup and returned swiftly. I motioned for her to pour out and she did so with the same deft economy of motion I had come to expect of her. Her gestures, like her words and even her clothing, were just right, never too bold or too retiring. She was an unusually comfortable person to be around, an invaluable quality in a member of staff. For a moment I regretted not having children merely because I could not engage her.

"Miss Earnshaw, I confess, I had an ulterior motive for inviting you to take tea with me, beyond the pleasure of your company."

She did not seem at all surprised. "You want information."

"What makes you say that?"

She sipped placidly at her tea, and very good tea it was. Indian, with broad black leaves instead of the weedy dust that is so often used instead.

"You are a naturally curious person, Lady Julia, if you will forgive the observation."

"Oh, entirely," I told her, reaching for a scone.

"And the last time we spoke, I sensed a certain frustration. I think you would have liked to have asked me more, but you were hampered by the presence of Lady Bettis...o...b..."

"Miss Earnshaw, you are a witch. I adore my sister, but there is some business too private even to share with her."

She offered me a subtle smile. "I am, to the public eye, a miner's daughter from a thoroughly insignificant village in Yorkshire with an indifferent education. I would never have risen to the position I now occupy without learning first the complementary skills of observation and discretion."

One could make a similar comment about Brisbane, I reflected. "Very well, I wish to know things."

We settled in for a chat then, and I asked her many questions. Some answers she knew, others we were forced to cobble together from bits and pieces she had collected over the years. In the end, I believe we pieced together a fair representation of what had happened so many years ago in her little village, what ghosts had been raised, and which ones still walked their uneasy path.

"Thank you, Miss Earnshaw," I said at length. "You have been most helpful. If there is ever anything I can do for you-"

Her gaze sharpened, and I smiled. "Ask."

"Well, I have put a bit of money aside. I mean to open a school for young ladies. Not a finishing school, but a proper school where girls may learn mathematics and the hard sciences as well as dancing and deportment. I realise it is a radical proposition, but if your ladyship could perhaps mention it to a friend or two, should they have daughters to educate..."

She trailed off hopefully. I waved a hand. "It would be my pleasure. In fact, I would be happy to write a general letter of recommendation. You may use it in your advertis.e.m.e.nts, for whatever it is worth."

She thanked me effusively, and I thanked her again for the tea and the conversation, and I think we both parted feeling quite kindly disposed toward the other. I was waiting alone by the time Brisbane finally came to collect me. He looked exhausted, his face drawn with fatigue.

"Are you ready?"

I rose at once and collected my things. "Of course."

"Thank G.o.d," he said fervently. "I want to get the h.e.l.l out of here."

Brisbane's language was frequently inappropriate, but there was an urgency to his tone that I had not often seen before. His pace was rapid as well, and by the time we reached the path to Grimsgrave, he was nearly a dozen steps ahead.

I stopped by the stone wall and waited. After half a minute he realised I had not kept pace and returned to fetch me, clearly battling his temper.

"I am sorry," he ground out through clenched teeth. "I did not mean to rush you. I want to get back to Grimsgrave."

"Quite all right," I told him with a smile. He offered his arm very civilly and I took it. He matched his steps to mine with great deliberation, and as we walked I felt the tension ebbing from him. The fresh moorland air blowing about seemed to clear the cobwebs and the anger away. The muscles under my hand relaxed, and the tightness at his jaw eased.

"I was rather surprised at not having to testify," I began.

He snorted. "Yes, well, it seems I underestimated the power of the March name."

I shrugged. "It is an illusion, really. People think it means something to be the daughter of an earl, so they treat you differently. And then you come to expect it, and they think it is because you are an earl's daughter, and really it's only because you have always been treated differently that you expect it in the first place."

Brisbane shook his head. "That is the most convoluted piece of logic I have ever heard."

"No, it isn't. And you are capable of some rather twisty logic yourself."

"Such as?" He quirked one glossy black brow in my direction.

"Such as permitting a would-be murderess to remain under your roof to attempt your life again just so she could be caught in the act. You seem to have entirely forgot that she might well have succeeded," I pointed out acidly.

He shrugged. "Oh, that. I took precautions, you know. I am not completely helpless."

"No, but you are reckless, as headstrong as any member of my family. I daresay it is bad breeding. The Aberdours always were rather flamboyant."

"And my mother's people," he put in. "Not exactly the reticent sort."

"True," I agreed. "They are a singular people. I quite like your aunt and uncle. Tell me, is Rosalie very like your mother?"

It was the first time I had raised the spectre of Brisbane's mother in conversation. He answered, but only after a moment, and his voice was low.

"Yes, I suppose she is. Same colouring, same graceful gestures. But there was something otherworldly about my mother. Rosalie is as plain as salt, for all that she is a Gypsy."

The fact that Brisbane could have described Rosalie thus was an excellent indication of his upbringing. Rosalie Smith was one of the most exotic creatures I had ever known. Mariah Young must have been something out of myth.

We walked on in silence for a moment, but his arm was tense again under mine.

"Portia asked me why Ailith was so determined to kill you," I began conversationally. "I told her it was because she meant to set up her mother to hang for your murder, but that is not the whole story, is it? No, I think she meant to punish you for ruining Redwall. You did, didn't you? During the 1884-1885 expedition? You needn't bother to deny it. I saw the photograph of the expedition party. You look rather dashing with whiskers. I wonder that Lord Evandale trusted you near his daughter. The poor girl must have been quite smitten."

Brisbane said nothing and I continued on, keeping my tone light. "It must have been terribly easy to bring Redwall down into disgrace. Was he stealing from Lord Evandale? Or selling faked antiquities as genuine? It hardly matters now. Evandale became suspicious, but he had so many new members to his expedition, he could not pinpoint the criminal. He asked you to join his excavation team and unmask the villain. You did so, with alacrity. It must have been so tempting to arrange proof to condemn him, but I don't believe you did. I think you waited until he betrayed himself. I think the evidence you presented to Evandale was entirely genuine."

"You seem to think very highly of my character," he said mildly, but his arm twitched beneath mine.

"No, I think you enjoyed the cat and mouse game too much. I believe you are completely capable of arranging for his culpability the first day. It would have been so easy for you. You are clever and deft and the coolest liar I know. Poor Redwall wouldn't have stood a chance if you had simply picked the lock to his room and cached a necklace or statue under his pillow. But watching him go to pieces was rather more satisfying, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," he agreed.

"You had months together, over the long Egyptian winter, toiling in the hot sun and lingering over group dinners, and all the while you watched him. He was confident at first, believing he had the measure of you, had you at a disadvantage. How immensely pleasurable it must have been for you to watch him disintegrate as the truth slowly dawned upon him-you had come to Egypt for revenge."

Brisbane's expression turned to one of disgust. "You have a febrile imagination, Julia. Redwall Allenby did nothing of the sort. Until the day Lord Evandale expelled him from the expedition, he thought I was in his power. He underestimated me completely."

I thought for a moment. "He was a singularly stupid man, wasn't he?"