‘He looks – and sounds – very much better, although we cannot be certain until the doctor sees him again. But he is agitated by the whole situation and I think talking about it will help keep him calm and in bed. But should you not be in bed yourself? Mrs Bishop said you were bruised and knocked about; that the attacker had you by the throat.’
‘It is only bruises and moving about will stop them stiffening up.’ She tipped up her chin and he could see faint discolouration on her neck. ‘And my throat is hardly sore at all, he did not manage to get a firm grip.’
‘May I?’ Theo put out his right hand to cover the marks and lifted her hair away with the other. ‘A hand definitely larger than yours, not quite as big as mine, I think. It is hard to tell, the traces are very faint.’
‘I will let him get a better grip next time so we have clearer evidence,’ Laura said, her head averted while he studied the side of her neck. ‘You have long fingers,’ she added.
He lifted them away from her skin and let her hair fall, his breath coming short. ‘Yes, I suppose I have. Come, let us confer with our conscious Curate.’
Will Thwaite was clean shaven, had finished a substantial breakfast and was looking, to Theo’s eye, considerably improved.
‘I have been thinking as hard as I can, but I have no idea who attacked me. It is my custom to take a walk before retiring and I thought of looking at the tithe records in case there was any mention of the Flyte family in those. The old volumes are kept in the Fellingham vestry for all three parishes. It was a fine night, quite clear and although the moon is waning, the starlight was good enough to see by, so I was hardly using my lantern.’
‘Anyone who knows you would be aware of your evening walks, I imagine,’ Laura commented.
‘Oh yes, the parishioners think me quite eccentric.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose my regular habits made it easy for anyone wishing me harm to know they only had to wait and then follow me. I saw no-one, heard nothing.’
‘Did you smell anything?’ Theo asked. ‘Tobacco, or horses or sweat?’
‘Nothing I’m afraid.’ He shook his head, winced and lay back. ‘Or… Christmas? That makes no sense. I can’t recall even hearing something or being afraid.’
‘Smell…’ Laura said. ‘I knew there was something odd about the man who attacked me. I couldn’t see his face and he was shrouded in that black cloak that flapped like great wings but I smelt something odd. Or rather I didn’t…’
‘What?’ Theo asked but she shook her head, frustrated. ‘Let me try something. Come and stand in the doorway as you did when he attacked you. Now close your eyes and let it all come back to you.’
She pulled a dubious face, but did as he suggested while he and Will watched silently. After several minutes she said, ‘The smell of hot wax from the candle in my dark lantern. Cooking smells – the kitchen door was open. Pot pourri from the bowl on the hall table. When he came close I could smell saddle leather and horse – he must have ridden. Then the cloak flapped open as he came at me and I smelled… nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Yes.’ Laura opened her eyes and came back into the room. ‘Normally people smell of something – sweat or perfume or baking or wine. But I was so close to him that my nose must have been almost against his skin and there was nothing.’ She shivered. ‘As though there was no-one inside that cloak.’
‘Incorporeal beings do not leave fingerprints on throats,’ Theo said bracingly. ‘A pity he was not wearing some expensive and exclusive cologne.’
‘But there was… As I wrenched back from him, he must have opened his mouth. What Will said, something spicy on his breath?’
‘A perambulating, murderous Christmas pudding? As it is, it could be anyone for hire.’ Theo switched his attention back to Will. ‘Nobody had any reason to attack you because of smuggling, unless there is something you haven’t told us,’ he said, thinking it through. ‘I only mentioned you in relation to the Flyte tomb. And why not both of us? I made it clear we were both investigating.’
‘Do you know who was the Rector before Mr Gilpin, Mr Thwaite?’ Laura asked when Will merely looked puzzled. ‘I can’t recall. I wasn’t living here then, just visiting, and I was far too young to know the name of the Rector. He must have known about the false tomb, whoever he was. I was hoping you would tell me last night, Theo, but you were so very late returning.’
‘My horse went lame, there was a stone wedged in one shoe,’ he said. ‘I came back slowly so as not to hurt the bruised foot.’
‘So what about the Rector?’ Laura asked.
‘Giles Swinburn,’ Theo and Will said in chorus.
Chapter Nine
‘Who? Giles? But he’s alive, kicking and most definitely not a clergyman,’ Laura said, startled.
‘His great uncle, the late Sir Hugh Swinburn’s younger brother,’ Will explained. ‘It was a great mystery apparently – he vanished one night in ’95 and was never seen again. The countryside around was searched and enquiries made but in the end it was assumed that either he had been set upon and his body concealed or he had somehow fallen into the sea and been drowned. The living was given to Mr Gilpin after several months had passed.’
‘And it was during Swinburn’s tenure that the tomb must have been erected,’ Theo said. ‘Mrs Gilpin recalls enquiring about it soon after they arrived. She said it was in such good condition that she was surprised, given the date on it, but the parishioners all seemed ignorant about it and she found nothing out.’
‘I can just imagine,’ Laura said bitterly. ‘They played the country yokel and pretended to know nothing when, in fact, they knew all about it. They do it now with the Riding Officers or anyone in authority. No wonder poor Mr Morefleet’s having such difficulties.’
‘Did the Rector’s disappearance have anything to do with the tomb?’ Theo mused. ‘It seems a coincidence that he connives over the erection of a spurious funerary monument in the churchyard – and he must have known it was a fake – and then mysteriously vanishes.’
‘And I still cannot imagine what the point of it is. It is an impressive monument, but only a large box, when all is said and done – far too small to hide more than a few casks in. I suppose packages of tobacco and lace take less room, but even so, it seems like a lot of work when there would be much