Page 17 of The Shadow Key

She glances at him briefly. His dark head is down, concentrating it seems on not tripping over the roots of beech trees protruding from the ground, and so Linette turns her gaze back to the path, the ornate gates of the mansion up ahead.

She thinks of the gatehouse, the mess left behind. Linette did not lie when she told the new doctor she had been verbose in her reaction. Indeed, it is just as well she was alone and no one heard her (poor Enaid would have despaired), but seeing it in the cold light of day … Such needless destruction! Such waste! Many of the items destroyed had belonged to poor Dr Evans. Linette remembers how proud he was of the canvas that now lay smashed on the rug in the hallway; a seascape of Harlech Castle he painted himself as a youth. But who could be responsible? Was it the Jones boy? One of the Einions? Linette never would have thought them capable. All the villagers are good people, are they not? Mistrustful, yes, in many ways, but surely they would not stoop to this.

To be sure, Cai or Rhiannon may feel they had cause, and had plenty of time to plot their attack, for gossip travels as swift as the gull in Penhelyg. The linens were brought from Cerys Davies, the ale for the gatehouse’s stores from Arthur Lloyd at the tavern and Ivor Morgan knew to collect the doctor from Dinas Mawddwy. It would have been common knowledge Dr Talbot was coming here. In theory, she thinks, holding open the gate for him, it could have been any one of them.

‘I won’t be a moment,’ the new doctor says as they approach the house and Linette nods in answer, watches him disappear through Plas Helyg’s cavernous doors.

As she waits Linette shoves her hands deep into her trouser pockets, worries her bottom lip with her teeth. What to do about it is the thing! Not once, not ever has Linette needed to exert authority. She has been a good mistress, and they in turn have been good tenants. Never have they taken her kindness for granted. However they felt about an outsider coming to Penhelyg, Linette finds it hard to believe they could behave so terribly, that they would mistreat her property. And since there is no way of knowing who it was … can anything be done at all?

Dr Talbot reappears, a cumbersome satchel in his hand. It looks worn, the leather crusted at the clasp, and Linette thinks she sees a spot of blood on the bottom, as if he placed it down upon a dirty surface … Again, she has a vision of Wynn Evans’ lifeless body under the unforgiving blade of a scalpel; swallowing, Linette turns sharply away.

‘Come,’ she says. She walks in the direction of the stables, and her heart lifts a little to see Pryderi poking his head from one of the stalls, flies flitting noisily about the chestnut cob’s ears.

There is a shuffle of dirt behind her, footsteps coming to a stop.

‘We’re to ride?’

The surprise in Dr Talbot’s voice is evident. Linette must suppress a smile.

‘You must ride,’ she throws over her shoulder. ‘Unless you’d prefer to walk the two miles down to the beach?’

‘Can we not use the cart—’

‘It’s cumbersome and would slow us down. Are you afraid, sir?’

There is no answer. She stops, turns to face him. Some distance away now Dr Talbot looks at her, jaw clenched.

‘I cannot ride.’

Linette regards him. When Julian informed her Dr Evans’ replacement would be from London she had expected someone very much like this – someone who never had to travel anywhere except by carriage, a spoilt man wholly unsuited to country living. An arrogant man, with the same prejudiced sensibilities as her cousin, and so far he is quite living up to her expectations.

‘Then you must learn.’

He blinks at her rudeness. And she is being rude, Linette knows she is. But she is used to speaking without a mind to others, of managing everything on her own, and it is a hard habit to quench. Besides, riding a horse is not difficult. Surely anyone, including sheltered city men such as he, can master it?

Rhys opens Pryderi’s stall, leads out the large chestnut, ready saddled. She slips her foot into the stirrup, swings one leg over the cob’s broad back, settles herself easily into the leather. Dr Talbot’s eyes widen. Linette knows what he is thinking – no woman should ride astride – for she has been told often enough by both Enaid and Julian, but she looks down at Dr Talbot with eyebrows raised, daring him to pass comment.

He does not. Instead he turns his face, stares at the black horse in front of him with a wary expression. Linette shares a look with the young stable-hand.

‘Rhys, will you assist our guest?’

The stable lad shoots her a look. Linette holds his gaze. Then, reluctantly, he helps Dr Talbot up into the saddle, begins to explain in stilted English how to instruct the animal. When the new doctor makes it clear he understands, Rhys passes up the medical bag which the man balances across his lap.

‘This will take some getting used to,’ the doctor grimaces.

Linette guides Pryderi into a turn. ‘You’ll have a lot of things to get used to, I suspect …’

She trails off. Dr Talbot is frowning at the reins in his hands. With a sigh Linette raises her own, shows him how they lie looped between her fingers.

‘Hold them as I do,’ she says.

He peers at them, does as instructed. Linette lets herself be impressed.

‘You’re a fast learner,’ she remarks.

The physician shifts in the saddle, evidently uncomfortable.

‘I have a mind suited to learning.’

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