Page 83 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘Poining’s. For some tape and thread.’ She looked at the roll of baling twine he was carrying and didn’t return the question. ‘Well, I must get on,’ she said.

‘Why the hurry? Come and have a cup of tea and talk to me,’ he said.

‘I haven’t got time,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to get back.’

‘Then I’ll walk with you.’ She said nothing, looking at him with a frown. He lowered his voice. ‘Rose,’ he said, ‘what’s wrong?’

She thought of Afton’s advice and sighed. ‘I’ve got something to tell you. Meet me by the Pack Bridge in a quarter of an hour.’

He looked about to argue, then nodded, and walked away in the opposite direction.

He was there at the bridge when she came along, sitting on the low parapet, hat in hand, and her heart gave an unruly flutter at the sight of him, so familiar and male, comfortable and exciting at the same time. What would it be like to . . . ? She cancelled the thought. After this conversation he would probably want nothing to do with her.

He stood up as she approached. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t come,’ he said. He examined her expression. ‘What have I done? You didn’t want to be seen walking along the high street with me?’

‘It wasn’t that,’ she said. ‘But when I tell you . . . you might be angry. I didn’t want . . . People are so nosy.’

‘This is not like you,’ he said. ‘You’re always so direct. Tell me what’s wrong, and we’ll see if we can’t make it right.’

She felt it would be easier to talk while moving, so she turned along the path beside the river, and he fell in beside her. And she told him about Martha’s cake, and the dog’s death.

‘Wait, wait,’ he said. He stopped, turning to face her. ‘Are you suggesting that Martha deliberately put poison in a cake and gave it to you?’

Rose looked at him steadily. ‘It’s what it seemed like to me.’

‘But – that’s madness! That dog could have died of anything at all!’

‘It was poison all right. I know what that looks like,’ she said.

‘And simply from that you conclude that my sister – my sister – tried to do away with you? Are you out of your senses?’

‘She hates me. You saw how she was when I came for tea that time.’

‘She takes time to get used to people, that’s all. It’s hard for her to cope with new faces. Once she knows you, she’ll be all right.’

‘You didn’t see her face when she gave it me.’

He ran a wild hand backwards through his hair. ‘Martha’s a bit strange, I admit, but to jump to the conclusion that she’s trying to kill you . . . All she’s done is show a bit of friendship in her own, odd way. You must have a warped view of humanity, that’s all I can say.’ He looked at her with a mixture of anger and perplexity. ‘What must you think of me, then? When I raise my hat to you, you must think I’m about to bludgeon you to death.’

‘I was afraid of this,’ she said. ‘I thought you might react this way.’

‘How else can I react, when you accuse my sister of murder!’

‘I wasn’t going to tell you, but I thought I’d better put you on your guard, in case.’

‘In case she murders me as well?’

‘All right, you think there’s nothing in it, but I’ve warned you, that’s all. I can’t do any more.’

‘I think you’ve done quite enough. And if you’re so sure that you can’t trust me and mine not to do away with you, I shan’t ask you to tea again. And I’ll be sure to cross the road when I see you coming in future.’ And he walked away, back towards the bridge, with angry, jerky steps, kicking a stone into the river when it happened to lie in his path.

Rose watched him go, then turned in the other direction to walk down to the Old Toll Bridge and go home that way. Her heart was sore, and she wondered if she had, after all, jumped to a mad conclusion. To an outsider it must look like that, but she had been there, she had seen Martha’s expression. If it was merely a peace offering why not offer her a slice of a larger cake, invite her inside to eat it with a cup of tea? Why bake her a whole small cake to take away with her? And she had seen the dog die, so soon after eating it. Rat poison worked quickly, she knew that, and there were no barns near the place where it had come out of the hedgerow.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything to Michael – kept her suspicions to herself. Mr Afton’s idea that Martha might poison him did seem far-fetched. On the other hand, she could never have gone to the house again or eaten anything there, and how would she have explained that to Michael?

She walked on, with her usual brisk, head-up walk, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. But inside she grieved. She had lost Michael Woodrow, the only man ever to pay her that sort of attention. Long before she met him she had accepted that she would die a spinster, and now she cursed herself for having let down her guard and allowed herself to grow fond of him. She should have known no good could come of it.

Lady Marlow leaned so far forward in her enthusiasm, the lace of her much tucked and puffed blouse was in danger of dipping into her tea. ‘You must be so thrilled that your dear brother is back in Town! And with his delightful new wife! One quite longs to meet her.’