Page 37 of Beatrix

The folly itself, when it finally came into view past the old deer park’s crumbling wall, was a curious thing to behold. A Gothic ruin that had never actually been a ruin. Its towers and crenellations had been carefully built to create an air of faded medieval glory. Beatrix could see at once why it had been built where it was. The land fell away gently towards it from the main house’s higher ground, so that anyone admiring the view from the right window would be quite taken with the romantic ruin glimpsed among the trees.

‘Stop here,’ Ben said, well before the folly’s drive came into view. ‘I’d prefer not to continue up to the gate until we know who’s minding it.’ Henry obligingly drew the wagonette up to the edge of a stand of beeches that gave them cover without drawing attention.

They continued the rest of the way on foot, looking for all the world like a family taking advantage of the clement weather in beautiful surroundings. Henry and Charlotte walked at the front with the unhurried confidence of two people admiring a beautiful view, while the younger members trailed behind carrying a picnic basket, blanket, sketchbook and parasols - the standard trappings of a family day out. They would continue to act as though they were being observed until they were certain they weren’t.

After about ten minutes, Henry turned back to Beatrix. ‘I do believe that fallen tree over there would make an excellent subject for your sketchbook, and there’s a clear patch of grass right next to it, taking advantage of both the sunshine and the rather splendid view.’

‘The perfect place for our picnic,’ his sibling added with a very un-Charlotte like simper.

Moving leisurely for the benefit of any hidden audience, they laid down the blanket while Billy was dispatched back to the wagonette for cushions.

Beatrix, meanwhile, seated herself on a convenient rock and opened up her sketchbook. In truth, the fallen tree was in no way remarkable, but just beyond it was a perfect view of The Grange’s gated drive which would naturally have to be included in her drawing. With a small chuckle, she set to work.

The others took it in turns to wander round the glade, slowly venturing closer to the gate. A half an hour in, they ascertained that the gate was chained rather than locked, and manned by a man who was evidently supposed to be a gamekeeper. In Ben’s opinion, he looked more like he’d been recruited from an illegal bare-knuckle prize-fighting ring – the very last person one would expect to find minding an empty folly.

Just before lunch, two large, covered carts came into view and were waved through the gate without any of the usual business of a delivery being checked and signed for.

‘Both look to be fully laden,’ Rob murmured, settling himself beside Beatrix with the air of a man admiring her sketch rather than observing deliveries.

‘Vittles for whoever they have inside,’ Bea guessed as the carts disappeared from view.

Once lunch was finished and packed away, Arabella declared her intention to have a look in the opposite direction. Keeping the lane in her sights, she walked along the edge of the coppice. It was so peaceful that for a moment she almost forgot they were there for less pleasurable reasons.

Moments later, she came upon an elderly man leaning on a gate of his own and tending what looked to be a small flock of very disreputable-looking sheep and a dog who couldn’t have looked more disinterested if it tried.

Taking a deep breath, she approached the shepherd, smiling warmly and offering a good morning. His answer was a suspicious nod.

This wasn’t going to be one of her easier conquests…

‘Forgive me for troubling you, but might you tell me whose land this is? My family are picnicking a few yards away, and my cousin’s quite taken with the little ruin we can see from the road.’ She leaned forward slightly as though about to share a titillating piece of gossip. ‘He’s visiting from Australia and claims he’s never seen anything quite so picturesque.’

The old man narrowed his eyes at her, and for a moment she thought her now legendary soothing tone wouldn’t be enough. Then he straightened and spat out a gob of something revolting from his mouth. Hiding a shudder, she turned to examine the sheep.

‘That’d be Viscount Lavenham’s land, Miss. He lives in the big ‘ouse. I reckon yonder folly’s just a toff’s bit o’ foolishness. Mind you, he ain’t there now, he’s up in the Smoke. Not due back fer another couple months, I should think.’

‘Does he actually use it for anything?’ Bella persisted carefully.

‘Not ter my knowledge. There’s a bit o’ toin’ an’ froin’, ‘specially lately. Reckon ‘e might be plannin’ a party or summat.

‘Perhaps he’s thinking of Crowning the May Queen,’ Arabella responded idly. ‘It would be the perfect setting.’

The shepherd shrugged, eying her sharply. ‘Don’t ‘old wi’ the old ways meself. I tend me sheep, and they tend me. Aside from that, I mind me own business.’ He tilted his head towards the now-invisible folly. ‘I reckon ‘e’d best get rid o’ them dogs afore ‘e plans any kind o’ party. They ain’t keen on visitors. I keep me sheep an’ old Jim ‘ere well away after dark.’

The dog gave a single thump of his tail at the mention of his name, then climbed to his feet, stretching.

‘Come on then lad, let’s get you ‘ome.’ He stepped away from the gate, then turned back to her. ‘Good day to you, miss, an’ a small word o’ warnin’…’ He paused, clearly hesitant before continuing, ‘Lord Lavenham don’t ‘old the kind o’ parties young ladies like yerself be invited to, if you get my meanin’.’ A pause, then Arabella nodded. Seconds later, he was gone, the sheep trotting after him without any need for Jim’s interference.

Five minutes later, she was back at their picnic site and relaying the information she’d gained.

‘It seems there can be little doubt the folly’s being used to house the orphans while they’re waiting for the auction,’ Ben murmured, ‘but I still find myself foolishly hoping that Arthur is completely unaware of the whole thing.’

‘He could be,’ Arabella said softly, her hand finding his. Ben gave a mirthless chuckle, but his fingers tightened over hers.

‘The fact that there are dogs patrolling the outside is a good indication they have something inside they’d rather not lose,’ Rob added drily.

Billy, who’d been uncharacteristically silent throughout Arabella’s account, finally spoke up, his voice low. ‘I counted the chimneys a bit ago. All four are smokin’. I reckon that’s the final nail in the bloomin’ coffin, ‘cos it’s a powerful lot o’ fires fer an empty ‘ouse.’

‘Four fires,’ Rob repeated slowly, ‘for however many children those carts have been feeding.’