Chapter 5

The next morning I was rudely awakened by Dervla ripping the blanket from my bed.

“Get up you lazy bum! The Mistress wants you now! My God you are disgusting, you smell like you’ve spent the night in a brothel!”

“And how pray, would you know that?”

“Never you mind, just get up, you’re wanted. Though God knows why.”

“Well at least someone wants me, more’n can be said for you.”

I was a bit slow ducking ... be honest I didn’t, and the slap Dervla administered to my face stung. It also revived last night’s headache.

It was only minutes before I staggered into my Mistresses private room.

“Right, Cillian, what have you got for me?”

“Good morning, Mistress.”

“Yes. Good morning Cillian. Now I’m in a hurry this morning.”

I explained everything that had happened the previous day. “To be honest, Mistress, we don’t seem to be any further forward. Doctor Willis seems quite genuine. I am quite sure that Major Hoxton doted on his wife and would never have hurt her. Roger Green was an angel or a devil according to who you are. Barr, I am sure would diddle his own grandmother if she were still alive, Mistress Merridew seems to have suspicions about someone, but she will not tell me who. She says she cannot possibly unless she is certain. The only thing I can come up with to show there is a murderer is the attack on me.”

“Attack on you Cillian? When did this take place?”

“Umm ... last night mistress.”

“And where would that have been?”

“Mistress Merridew’s bedroom, Mistress.”

Mistress Americk gave a peal of laughter.

“Did she object to your presence, Cillian?”

I had to explain exactly what had happened, as I had known I would.

“That is curious, Cillian. Very curious. You are going to see Sir Warburton this morning?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Take care, Cillian. Take very great care. And clean yourself up, you smell like a...”

“Yes, Mistress. It has already been commented on.”

Had I not been dragged out of bed, but left to get myself into the day, I should already have made myself more presentable. I did so before going to the kitchen to see what delicacy Gladys would provide for my breakfast. I am not convinced that bread and cheese and small beer is sufficient fare for a man to face the day, but that was what there was.

It was mid-morning when I called on Felicia Merridew. She almost pulled me inside.

“How is your head this morning, Cillian?”

“Much improved, thank you.”

She closed on me and pulled me into a clinch.

“And how about this,” she had her hand on my todger, which responded as it was supposed to.

“Oh good.” She pushed me down on to a kitchen chair, extracting my manhood at the same time. She raised her skirts and straddled me. Things went together as they should, even if I was somewhat surprised by this turn of events. She did most of the work, and in a few minutes satisfaction was achieved. All this seemed rather odd, out of character, but it wasn’t outside the range of my experience. But the oddest thing was that at the height of passion she muttered the words, ‘such a waste’. Now what the hell was that about? Probably, I imagined, she was thinking about all those years she could have been married.

A few minutes later we were on our way to the manor, Felicia walking beside me carrying her basket. The house was set well back from the road behind woodland. Besides the main drive there were a couple of paths through the woods. The one we were walking along would bring us to the walled stable yard at the back of the house. The path had access to the yard through a narrow archway with eagles on the piers either side. We were nearing the archway when we heard a shouted argument ahead of us. Within moments there was a loud cry and Harry Dibble, Sir Warburton’s coachman came striding past us, a look of fury on his face.

I broke into a run, and entering the yard came upon Sir Warburton sitting on the ground. I helped him to his feet.

“Oh dear, Warburton, are you all right?” Felicia asked.

“Yes, yes, Felicia. Damned young fool pushed me. Should do as he’s told, not as he pleases,” Sir Warburton replied.

“Of course he should,” said Felicia. “I was hoping to...”

“Yes, yes, help yourself to whatever, m’dear,” Sir Warburton told her.

As she walked off towards the gardens, Sir Warburton turned to me.

“Wonderful woman, Felicia,” he said. “Perhaps I should have married her.”

“I’d heard,” I said, “that she broke of the engagement.”

“No, no,” he looked at me. “I broke it off. Yes, it was the canary.”

“The canary, sir?”

“Yes. She had this little bird, quite tame it was, used to take food from between her lips, ‘til one day it pecked her. She was furious, grabbed the bird, and wrung its neck. After that, well ... still, that’s water under the bridge.”

I nodded in agreement.

“Now, that young feller has just signed his own death warrant,” he went on.

“That seems a little harsh,” I replied. “A whipping perhaps...”

He looked at me.

“I’m protected by divine justice,” he said. “You’ve not been here long, so you may not have noticed, but anyone who upsets me dies. Started with Major Hoxton’s harridan of a wife. Ghastly woman, said I was still the butcher’s boy. I told her I was the baronet, her husband was merely a major. Felicia was a steadying influence, insisted she take some of my grapes to her. And that oaf Smith! I told him I’d have his inn shut down. Next thing he falls in the river. No loss. The Green boy, he was damned rude to me. The Grubb girl, I expect she had her hand guided by providence, picked up the wrong bottle. I tried to get her to do things as I wanted, told me if I didn’t like it I could do it myself. I ask you.”