The Dandelion Seed (29 page)

Rolly’s suntanned face beamed as he pointed towards his old home. ‘Here we are, sir, there is the inn. I’ll bet Betsy will be pleased to see me.’

As they approached, they saw a little man dressed in a blue striped apron and whistling merrily as he swept the flag stones in front of the inn. With great agility Rolly sprang from his horse and yelled out: ‘Betsy, I’m home!’

The man in the courtyard looked up with his mouth open. Then, dropping the broom, he darted inside like a rabbit into its warren.

Katy was behind the bar polishing the pewter tankards when Chalky came belting in and crouched down beside her. ‘I’m not in,’ he said hoarsely. ‘You ain’t seen me today.’ He held on to her dress with one hand and gave it a hard tug. ‘Go on Katy,’ he pleaded. ‘Do try to get rid of them.’

Rolly’s huge shape had darkened the doorway and Katy looked up in amazement at the sight of this flamboyant figure whose black-and-gold suit was still dusty from the long ride. Rolly’s big mouth gaped open as he saw another woman behind the bar. After all, he had been so expecting to see his beloved sister Betsy.

Katy looked up at this stranger with amusement. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’ she asked sharply.

Thomas who was only a step behind Rolly, took in the situation at a glance. The inn had changed hands. It was clean and bright and shining, and this tall, dark young woman standing with a jug in her hand was not Rolly’s sister. He stepped inside and bowed graciously to her. ‘Pardon the intrusion madam, but I believe we have come to the wrong inn.’

‘Who were you looking for?’ Katy asked. ‘Did you want a glass of ale?’ Katy’s business sense was always there.

‘Might as well,’ replied Thomas, seating himself on the bench at a scrubbed wooden table and motioning Rolly to be seated.

Katy came round from behind the bar, tall and regal. Her shining hair was tied up under a white lace cap and she wore a neat black dress with a locket of gold about her neck. She is certainly a striking-looking woman, thought Thomas, as she placed the two foaming tankards of ale on the table and stood looming over them waiting for the money.

Thomas handed her a coin. ‘Is your master at home, madam?’ he asked.

‘If you mean my husband,’ Katy returned imperiously, ‘he is not. And may I ask what you require of him?’

‘We are looking for Elizabeth, a fair buxom person. She is the sister of my servant.’

Katy looked incredulously at Rolly who was almost choking as he quickly gobbled down the ale. With a glance behind the bar where the sweating Chalky grovelled, she leaned over and grabbed hold of his collar. ‘Come out, you fool,’ she said firmly. ‘They came to ask about Betsy.’

Avoiding Rolly’s gaze, Chalky emerged from behind the bar. He looked quite ashamed and very nervous of Rolly, who stared at him with narrowed eyes. ‘This is my friend,’ Rolly said to him through clenched teeth as he introduced Thomas.

With a wry grimace Chalky seated himself opposite Thomas to face the music. His quick mind was working out the best way to tell Rolly of the death of his sister and still remain alive himself. Taking a deep breath, he told the visitors of the demise of poor Betsy and of how he had looked after her. In a very plausible manner, he told of the care he had taken of her and then of the magnificent funeral he had given her. ‘As gawd is my judge, sir,’ he whined, ‘never a hair of that gel’s head would I have harmed. Thought the world of me, she did, and very fond of her, I was too.’ But as he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his coat, Rolly put his head on the table and blubbered like a baby.

Thomas had almost fallen asleep. The warmth of the room and the strong ale were almost too much for him. It had been a long tiring day and Chalky’s whining vice seemed to be fading farther and farther away. He felt his eyes closing as he sat there trying desperately to stop his eyes closing.

The wily Chalky realised that he had the situation in hand. ‘Prepare supper!’ he called to Katy.

Katy stood watching this charade with a smile playing about her face. With her dark eyes inscrutable, she obediently went to the kitchen to prepare a meal for the travellers.

‘You are travel weary, sir,’ said Chalky. ‘I beg of you to stay and partake of our hospitality.’

‘Might as well,’ said Thomas, rising. ‘Conduct us to your guest chamber. We will wash and come down late for a meal.’

Chalky bowed low and showed them upstairs, chatting and laughing all the while. But Thomas and Rolly were too weary to listen. They washed and lay down on their beds for a rest but in the end slept through the night, without even appearing for a meal.

The daylight filtered through the leaded casements and the flowered curtains fluttered in the breeze when Thomas awoke the next morning. He had had a strangely disturbed night, with many vivid dreams. He was slightly embarrassed by these dreams for they had been quite intimate and about himself and Marcelle. He dreamed that they had lain beside the brook together and he had held her close, as he had always wanted to. The soft, sweet feeling of love still lingered now as he opened his eyes and looked over the room. There was something very familiar about it, he thought. He eyed a light on the shelf where a little blue sandlewood virgin stood. This must be the room in which Marcelle had once slept. Some old trick of fate had brought him back here. Did the secret lie in this room?

Thomas sat up and looked around him. There were just the plain painted walls, a fireplace, and this dingy-looking four poster bed – nothing of interest. The little blue virgin provided the only spot of colour in the room, and she smiled at him, it seemed, with familiarity.

On a trestle bed in the corner was Rolly. He was lying on his back with his great feet sticking out past the end of the bed. Thomas picked up his boot and threw it at his servant. ‘Get up!’ he called irritably. ‘The day is almost gone.’

Rolly staggered to his feet and was pulling on his breeches just as Chalky knocked on the door and sidled in.

‘Good morning, sir. Nice day,’ he began conversationally. ‘I’ll get some hot water for you in a tick. Now, what would you like for breakfast?’

Thomas looked distastefully at this cringing little man. There was something very unattractive about him. ‘My man will wait on me,’ Thomas replied shortly. ‘Have your wife prepare a meal and in half an hour I will be down.’

Chalky scuttled off. ‘Sour-faced bastard,’ he muttered, as he scrambled downstairs. ‘I wonder how Rolly got in with him.’

Katy was in the kitchen and not in too good a temper. She was pregnant again and suffering from morning sickness. Sitting in a tall chair at the table was Sam, Chalky’s son, banging a wooden spoon. His father immediately went over to play with him.

‘Never mind all that larking,’ said Katy sharply, ‘and give me a hand with these breakfasts. I hope those two are going to pay?’ she added.

‘Of course he’ll pay. What a suggestion!’ retorted Chalky.

‘Well, seeing as that great oaf was a relation of Betsy’s you might be trying to ease your conscience,’ she added spitefully.

‘Don’t know what you mean, Katy.’ Chalky looked indignant. ‘I took care of Betsy, didn’t I?’

‘Not arf, you didn’t,’ replied the truculent Katy. ‘Helped her to break her bloody legs, you did.’

‘Now don’t be so nasty, love,’ said Chalky woefully, as he scuttled off to lay the table for their guests.

An hour later, Thomas and Rolly sat in the window seat enjoying the well-cooked meal that Katy had produced. Rolly seemed to have forgotten his sorrow that morning and was tucking into the good food with one eye on the toy he had been playing with all morning. It was a little artificial bird in a cage. At the turn of a screw, it twittered and flapped its wings and sweet music came from it. It was a very valuable toy, for the cage and bird were engraved in gold, and it had been a gift for Betsy. Rolly played with the toy and his infectious loud laughter affected the others around him and soon they had all joined in. Even Thomas managed a wry sort of smile.

Sam cooed loudly at the little bird and Chalky stared at it fascinated. ‘Ain’t it marvellous!’ he said. ‘Who thought of that? Clever bloke I reckon. Look, Sam, here he goes,’ he called as the wheels could be heard whirring within.

Tall and graceful, Katy served the meal with amusement in her dark eyes as she surveyed the scene. ‘I wonder what Chalky is so scared of,’ she thought to herself as she looked at her husband. Her swift hands swept the dishes from the table and she caught Thomas’ eye.

Thomas looked back at her. He liked the look of Katy; she was a woman to like and respect, this tall beauty. What was she doing with this whining little rat of a husband? Thomas could not even bring himself to be civil to the man.

‘Go on, Chalky, take Sam out for a while,’ Katy commanded.

Sam went reluctantly with his father. Really, he wanted to stay and look at the little bird that sang. But soon the inn was quiet again, when Sam had gone with Chalky to the brook and Rolly sat outside on the cobbles still playing with his toy.

Katy lazily poured Thomas and herself a glass of wine, she then sat down facing him, her elbows on the table. ‘Come on,’ she said coaxingly, ‘let’s talk, I know you want to.’

Thomas’ sad face softened for a moment. Here was a woman who was not only beautiful but also intelligent. He guessed that she was also very courageous. His admiration for her showed in his sad, deep-set eyes.

‘Why are you here?’ asked Katy, wasting no time over niceties. ‘And what is that great oaf you are travelling with to you?’

‘That great oaf is my servant, and this is his home,’ Thomas returned quietly.

‘I know all that,’ Katy retorted impatiently. ‘But what is this air of mystery that surrounds you all? Even my husband is afraid. What is it? I intend to find out.’

Thomas’ respect for her deepened. ‘Madam, we will perhaps be able to solve it between us. I met my future wife here some years ago when she was just a child and this was her home.’

Katy’s eyes opened wide with surprise. ‘A girl? I never heard of one living here. There was Betsy, but she was Chalky’s stepmother. At least, so he says!’

Thomas approached the subject of Betsy warily. ‘When did Betsy die?’ he asked.

‘Last year,’ replied Katy. ‘I married Chalky three weeks after she died. I remember, ’cos he told me he put the banns up the same day.’

‘You never heard her mention Marcelle?’ Thomas spoke the name very sadly.

‘No,’ Katy shook her head and pursed her lips in thought. ‘I don’t even remember hearing of her. As a matter of fact, Betsy was bedridden all the time I was courting Chalky. I thought she was an old lady, so I got a shock when they said she was only a few years past twenty.’

Thomas relapsed into silence. Marcelle was remaining as elusive as ever; no one had heard of her. As he looked at Katy, he caught a glimpse of diamonds in the locket around her neck. On the front was a painted miniature which was surrounded by diamonds and set in gold. The sweet face of a child of about seven looked out at him. It was quite remarkable. There was no doubt they looked like Marcelle’s eyes, staring sad and sweet into his very soul. He closed his own eyes for a moment and then opened them quickly again. That little girl
was
Marcelle! She had the same thin nose and pointed chin and that unusual elf-like expression which was seldom seem in England.

Katy had noticed the strange look on Thomas’ face as he stared at her and her hand went nervously to the locket as she twisted the chain in her fingers.

‘Where did you get that?’ Thomas’ words came out sharp as a knife.

‘My locket, do you mean?’ asked Katy.

He nodded.

‘It was a wedding present from Chalky. Why?’

‘Because I am almost sure that it is a miniature of my wife as a child.’

Katy undid the clasp and placed the locket on the table. They both scrutinised it carefully.

‘It’s a pretty little girl aged about seven or eight,’ Katy spoke at last.

‘It is Marcelle all right,’ said Thomas. ‘I’m sorry, Katy, but your husband must know more than he cares to say.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Katy. ‘When he comes back he’ll talk, I’ll see to that. Anyway, why are you so worried over her?’ she asked.

‘She disappeared, as did her child, though separately. I intend to find out what happened to her or die in the attempt,’ Thomas replied emphatically.

Katy’s face paled, ‘God,’ she said anxiously. ‘I know Chalky’s a rogue but he would not hurt women and children.’

It was not long before Chalky came trotting back up the path with his son on his back. He glanced at the pendant on the table and took in the angry look on Katy’s face. ‘Gawd,’ he said nervously. ‘The cat’s out the bleedin’ bag, then?’

‘I am afraid it is, love,’ Katy spoke quietly. ‘I think you owe this gentleman an explanation.’ She whisked Sam away and left the room.

Chalky sat down facing Thomas, his eyes on the locket. ‘I never nicked it,’ he began. ‘Found it, I did, and that’s the God’s honest truth.’

Thomas passed his hand wearily over his brow. ‘I don’t care how you got it,’ he replied. ‘What I want to know is where you got it from.’

‘Down in the cellar,’ said Chalky brightly, pointing downwards with his hand.

‘You mean you found it there, but when? It is a miniature of my wife as a child and it may be a clue to her disappearance.’