It seemed unlikely that Benjie would have instructed Raynor to terrorise me. Why? As I lay there, feeling the bathwater grow tepid, I wondered what I had said, done, or uncovered that merited such a response. It made no sense, or none that I could fathom.

I must be coming close to an answer. And the answer was here, in this house.

*   *   *

The library is at the bottom of the stairs and the door stood open. I paused, wondering if Benjie and Raynor were in there.

Benjie was talking rather excitedly with a man who spoke calmly. Although the calm voice was low, it carried sufficiently for me to catch the drift. “Undercapitalised,” “overstretched,” and Benjie’s “It’s not going to come to that.”

If Benjie had set Raynor to watch me, there was good reason to mistrust him, and yet Benjie was prepared to come to the aid of someone in trouble. Given the revelation about financial difficulties at the mill, perhaps he ought to consider putting his own house in order first.

When the other man spoke again, more clearly this time, I recognised the voice. It was Eliot Dell. This put a different slant on the conversation. One of them was in trouble, but which?

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gertrude was seated at the piano, picking out a melancholy tune. Abruptly, she stopped playing and came towards me. “Oh, Kate, I’m so sorry. Milly told me. What idiot pushed a trunk in front of your darkroom door?”

I made light of it. “At least Milly had the sense to come looking for me.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s Alec Taylor. He comes and goes through the cellar doors as if he owns the place. If I find out it’s him, it’ll be the last trick he plays.”

“Don’t worry about it, Gertrude. I’m all right now. It was just a scare, that’s all. There’s no reason to suppose it was Alec.”

I did not add that there was every reason to suppose it might be Raynor. Alec would not act off his own bat. Raynor would instinctively know how to protect Benjie. I was coming close to something, sufficiently close that I represented a threat.

There were two glasses of sherry on a low table. We sat down and each took a glass. Gertrude sat by her embroidery frame. She loves embroidery and has produced some fine work. A lawn material was stretched across the frame, showing an unfinished garden, stitched with summer flowers.

We made a little toast to each other.

“There’s something I want to show you, Kate, because I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

“Why would I think badly of you?”