Page 58 of The Shadow Key

‘Exactly. The one here still has all five.’

‘Yes.’ He runs a thumb over his lower lip. ‘It could have been reloaded.’

She says nothing to this. Cannot.

Suspecting Cai Jones is one thing – her servants, quite another.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The main entrance to the mines is reached by taking a north-eastern track out of Penhelyg, deep into the valley of Cwm Nantcol. The way is orderly and well-maintained, free of stray rocks and errant branches, allowing Ivor Morgan’s cart to trundle up without incident – it is the one good thing Linette’s cousin has done for the miners, although in truth he had Mr Lambeth build the path for his ease and requirement rather than theirs; Julian never travels in anything but a carriage or his own phaeton if he can possibly help it.

Torn down in the name of industry, no trees grow here on this path, but it is banked by buttercup meadows and affords a pleasant view of the valley; down in the fields can be seen lush copses of vegetation that border the farmlands of Linette’s hill tenants, and she can spy the finials of Plas Helyg peeking from the dense woodland that surrounds it.

The mine is in a unique position – built horizontally into the lower reaches of the mountains, the spoil-heaps face out to sea. Nowhere else in North Wales can one emerge from caverns in the heart of the rock to find oneself confronted by a grand expanse of ocean, and as Ivor guides the pony and cart upward, Linette twists in her seat. The mid-morning sun is high in the turquoise sky, casting the water into shades of deep cornflower blue, and the brisk wind causes waves to break the surface in long curling crests.

‘White horses,’ she murmurs, and beside her Henry quirks a brow.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘White horses. It’s a term for how the waves look when they rise and fall on a choppy sea. Look how the white ridges appear like a horse’s mane?’

The glance Henry spares her is laced with impatience.

‘Another superstition?’

‘No,’ Linette says, drawing the word out. ‘Just a metaphor.’

She keeps her eyes on those foam-ridged waves, yawns deeply into her hand. Sleep had not come easily last night, for all Linette could think of was poor Dr Evans. Before supper she had asked Enaid, as promised, and was not surprised when the old woman only stated with evident confusion (how cruel to keep such dreadful secrets from her!) what Linette already knew: there was no love lost between Dr Beddoe and her brother, but certainly nothing to cause concern – the two men simply had differing opinions of professional practice. Yet while Linette had not been surprised by the revelation (or lack of, in this case) Henry had been most disappointed. When she told him Enaid’s answer his expression turned grave and contemplative, his conversation grew less and less as the evening drew on, so that in the end dinner had been such a stilted affair Linette had excused herself to bed earlier than was her habit. Today Henry has been vexing irritable, right from breakfast to the very moment they boarded Ivor’s cart, so she is relieved when Ivor finally brings them to the cavern entrance.

Perhaps meeting the miners will distract them both.

Linette raises her hand in greeting to where the miners are sifting through the yield. She expected them to smile and wave back as they have always done, but now they simply stare as the cart is brought to a stop. Even beneath their dirty faces Linette sees their hostility, the nasty curls of their lips, the pointed stares. Not just the men, but the boys as well.

She jumps down from the cart. Henry follows, slapping straw from his trousers. The air falls silent with an unspoken threat, tempered only by the muted hammering that echoes up from the caverns below, the waterwheel by the entrance, and Linette marks now what Henry did from the very start: their dislike is unreasonable, unprovoked and dangerous, and it fills her with deep-seated dread.

‘Good day,’ she says in Welsh over the sound of rushing water. ‘The doctor and I have brought refreshments – won’t you rest a little?’

The miners shift on their scuffed boots, look almost as if they might refuse her, but then to Linette’s relief they lay down their tools. The overseer – Cai Jones’ father Rhodri – rings the bell at the mouth of the cavern, and the echoing sounds from within come to a stop.

Linette steps closer to Henry. The look he gives her is clear – I told you so – and she cannot quite meet his eye.

‘Let us set up over there.’ She points to a large block of stone that she has always used as a makeshift table. ‘We won’t stay long.’

In silence they unload the cart, spread out Mrs Phillips’ fare – baps and cured meats, cheeses and bara brith – on cloths of muslin. Henry and Ivor (who, Linette was gratified to note, greeted Henry warmly this morning) manoeuvre between them the barrel of cwrw brought up from the tavern, and all the while the miners watch him, like red kites on the hunt. It is customary for the men to line up with their tin cups, to take their food from Linette with a smile and a pleasant word, and it was her intention that Henry should serve the miners by her side. She hoped the familiarity of the act would help them thaw to their new doctor, help them see him as a decent man, but the miners continue their frosty-faced silence, and Linette begins to question the merit of her plan. As she and Henry serve them not one of the men says thank you and worse, to her dismay, not one of them will look her in the eye, either. All the while Linette keeps the conversation light, asks after their health, their families, but even though they respond in kind the rapport she has always felt with them seems to slip further and further away. As the line lengthens and more miners emerge from the cavern, the atmosphere turns from uncomfortable silence to something like an unspoken threat, and Linette wants to shout at them for their belligerence.

It is as the line begins to dwindle that there comes the loud rumble of wheels. Peering over the shoulders of the remaining miners, she feels her stomach sink.

‘O na.’

Henry looks to where Linette stares.

‘What is it?’

‘An unwelcome visitor.’

Indeed, the sight of the small black carriage that has just come to a stop by Ivor’s cart is most unwelcome. The fine-legged horse which pulls it tosses its head in the heat, and Rhodri – noting the sweat that dampens its coat like dew – places a tin bowl of water down on the ground. The filly bends its head to drink. As the driver expresses his thanks the carriage door opens and his master Lord Pennant steps down, Julian’s agent Mr Lambeth following closely behind.

They lock eyes. Linette has never liked Lord Pennant. Though a Welshman by birth he is just as uninterested in his workers as Julian is, and she scowls at him from beneath the wide brim of her hat. Lord Pennant disguises his surprise at seeing her with a look of amusement. Mr Lambeth – whom she likes even less – shakes his head in disapproval. Linette turns to Henry.

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