end. I spoke to her this morning.’
‘This morning? Are you sure?’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘So who was the woman in her house then?’ Trish couldn’t resist asking the question.
Sylvia Cartland shrugged. ‘I really have no idea.’
Chapter 10
The Jester’s Journal
27 May 1815
She arrived like a gift, wrapped in a gown of shabby, red muslin with a cloth swathed around her head in a most exotic manner.
I have seen such hats in illustrations of strange and colourful people from far-away lands but I had never seen such a thing
in reality. She wore a tall peacock feather tucked into the folds of her hat so that it stood erect upon her head and her
gown was voluminous and most curious, like a costume in a play.
It was her attire I noted first. Then I took note of the woman within the dress. She was small and slender with a swarthy
complexion and darting, watchful brown eyes which took in the drawing room as though she had never seen the like before. Upon
the Squire’s orders our sober steward brought her within the house but kept his distancefrom her as if he imagined she might corrupt him and contaminate him with her exotic ways.
Her ways, I must confess, seemed strange to me. For she treats us all as a princess would treat her minions. Her head held
high, she gazed in my direction, seeing yet not seeing, as though I was beneath her attention. Her manner towards the Squire
was similarly haughty and yet I could tell from the first that he had fallen under some spell the girl had cast. Was she a
demon come to claim his soul? I asked myself. Or had he met her in some other life – on one of his visits to his cousin’s
estate perhaps? I would assume my role and question him closely – for any impertinence is tolerated if it comes from the lips
of a Fool.
The young woman spoke no English but conversed in a strange tongue that even the Squire did not appear to recognise – and
in his youth he had travelled to many parts of Europe. She made her desires known by giving signs, the meaning of which were
quite comprehensible to all. When asked her name she merely said ‘Pegassa’ in a firm, clear voice. Whether it was her name
or an order, I have no idea, but it became her title from that moment on. The Lady Pegassa.
Our steward behaves towards her in a circumspect manner and the Squire had to prevent him from sending word to the fort in
case she was some French spy come to glean the secrets of our fortifications against Bonaparte’s forces. The Squire assured
him that she had no knowledge of the French tongue but this did little to assuage his suspicions.
Master Henry went yesterday to Tradmouth to call upon an acquaintance who owes him money and he told the Squire that he will
stay at the inn there until tomorrow.When he returns I have no doubt he will interest himself in our new guest.
William has vanished from the stables and the Squire supposes that he is recovered and has returned to his home.
Chapter 11
Wesley could think of better ways to spend a Sunday morning than sitting at his desk sifting through a heap of witness statements.
But murder didn’t keep to civilised office hours. He’d learned that years ago – as had Pam.
Sylvia Cartland’s claim that she had spoken to Tessa Trencham the previous day had thrown the investigation into turmoil and
caused Wesley to suspect that they could be following the wrong trail already. They were making efforts to contact Tessa in
France but as yet they’d had no luck and Gerry had seemed quite despondent about it for a while. But nothing kept his spirits
down for long. Keith Marsh was still unconscious in Morbay Hospital; if and when he came round, they might make some progress.
‘Can I have a word, sir?’
Wesley looked up and saw Paul Johnson standing by his desk. His long, normally amiable face looked strained andthere were dark rings beneath his eyes. ‘Of course, Paul. What is it?’
Paul told him
‘This morning? Are you sure?’
‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘So who was the woman in her house then?’ Trish couldn’t resist asking the question.
Sylvia Cartland shrugged. ‘I really have no idea.’
Chapter 10
The Jester’s Journal
27 May 1815
She arrived like a gift, wrapped in a gown of shabby, red muslin with a cloth swathed around her head in a most exotic manner.
I have seen such hats in illustrations of strange and colourful people from far-away lands but I had never seen such a thing
in reality. She wore a tall peacock feather tucked into the folds of her hat so that it stood erect upon her head and her
gown was voluminous and most curious, like a costume in a play.
It was her attire I noted first. Then I took note of the woman within the dress. She was small and slender with a swarthy
complexion and darting, watchful brown eyes which took in the drawing room as though she had never seen the like before. Upon
the Squire’s orders our sober steward brought her within the house but kept his distancefrom her as if he imagined she might corrupt him and contaminate him with her exotic ways.
Her ways, I must confess, seemed strange to me. For she treats us all as a princess would treat her minions. Her head held
high, she gazed in my direction, seeing yet not seeing, as though I was beneath her attention. Her manner towards the Squire
was similarly haughty and yet I could tell from the first that he had fallen under some spell the girl had cast. Was she a
demon come to claim his soul? I asked myself. Or had he met her in some other life – on one of his visits to his cousin’s
estate perhaps? I would assume my role and question him closely – for any impertinence is tolerated if it comes from the lips
of a Fool.
The young woman spoke no English but conversed in a strange tongue that even the Squire did not appear to recognise – and
in his youth he had travelled to many parts of Europe. She made her desires known by giving signs, the meaning of which were
quite comprehensible to all. When asked her name she merely said ‘Pegassa’ in a firm, clear voice. Whether it was her name
or an order, I have no idea, but it became her title from that moment on. The Lady Pegassa.
Our steward behaves towards her in a circumspect manner and the Squire had to prevent him from sending word to the fort in
case she was some French spy come to glean the secrets of our fortifications against Bonaparte’s forces. The Squire assured
him that she had no knowledge of the French tongue but this did little to assuage his suspicions.
Master Henry went yesterday to Tradmouth to call upon an acquaintance who owes him money and he told the Squire that he will
stay at the inn there until tomorrow.When he returns I have no doubt he will interest himself in our new guest.
William has vanished from the stables and the Squire supposes that he is recovered and has returned to his home.
Chapter 11
Wesley could think of better ways to spend a Sunday morning than sitting at his desk sifting through a heap of witness statements.
But murder didn’t keep to civilised office hours. He’d learned that years ago – as had Pam.
Sylvia Cartland’s claim that she had spoken to Tessa Trencham the previous day had thrown the investigation into turmoil and
caused Wesley to suspect that they could be following the wrong trail already. They were making efforts to contact Tessa in
France but as yet they’d had no luck and Gerry had seemed quite despondent about it for a while. But nothing kept his spirits
down for long. Keith Marsh was still unconscious in Morbay Hospital; if and when he came round, they might make some progress.
‘Can I have a word, sir?’
Wesley looked up and saw Paul Johnson standing by his desk. His long, normally amiable face looked strained andthere were dark rings beneath his eyes. ‘Of course, Paul. What is it?’
Paul told him
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