Free The Ely Testament by Philip Gooden Page B

made her first intervention of the meal. And Cyrus was proud of her. She said, ‘I do not believe that all those wives act out of choice. Some are forced to it.’
    â€˜Well, that may be so,’ said Tomlinson smoothly. ‘Anyway, suttee is a practice which has been outlawed in India these many years.’
    â€˜I expect so,’ said Dora Selwyn, but something in her voice suggested she didn’t quite believe Tomlinson.
    After that the conversation, even over the puddings, seemed incapable of rising above somewhat morbid subjects, such as the practice in the German states of building elaborate mortuaries at public expense. Naturally, it turned out that Charles Tomlinson was familiar with Germany; was there anywhere that the man had not visited, anywhere that he could not comment on? Once the ladies had withdrawn, there was some enjoyable if desultory chat over the port, and Cyrus relaxed. He even began to think that, after all, there was some value to knowing a man of the world like Tomlinson.
    But the worst moment of the evening for Cyrus Chase was still to come. Their guests were departing. The housemaid Mattie was in attendance to hand out hats and coats and umbrellas. The Hardwicks had already left, and were accompanying Cousin Dora back to her house before returning to their own. The Coffers were about to go. Coffer insisted on jabbering all the way to the garden gate, telling Chase that he would send him a copy of a recent pamphlet that laid out the arguments against cremation, laid them out irrefutably. And what did Mr Cyrus Chase think of the idea of starting an Anti-Cremation Society, eh? With Mrs Coffer tugging at her husband’s sleeve and telling him that they must hurry to catch the last train to Cambridge, Cyrus turned back towards his own front door.
    He could not be absolutely certain of what he saw there. The front door of Mon Repos was almost closed and the light from the hall was dim. His wife Bella and Charles Tomlinson were standing together on the porch. It appeared that the pair had just moved apart, as though from an embrace. Their arms were extended slightly and their heads were very close together. Were they merely exchanging compliments or something more intimate? Cyrus coughed as he walked back up the path and Tomlinson emerged from the shadow of the porch, giving a casual waft of his hand in Bella’s direction.
    â€˜Goodnight, Chase,’ he said as he passed. ‘A pleasant evening, most pleasant.’
    By the time he reached the porch, Bella was inside again. Cyrus secured the front door and turned round to face his wife, who was standing by the entrance to the morning room as though she was about to speak to him. Or expected him to say something to her. But Cyrus could think of nothing to say. He might have commented on her flushed cheeks – but then it was a cold night.

Summer, 1645
    E verything in Stilwell Manor was suspended that morning. No smell of baking bread or roasting meat emanated from the kitchen quarters, no servants bustled or slouched from one task to the next, no laundry was hung out on the frames to dry in the midsummer sun, no one came to consult the steward or Anne’s father and mother about household business or the estate. Instead, it was as if the soldiers owned the place, they moved about so arrogantly and surely, while the proper occupants of the house seemed to shrink into the wainscoting and avert their eyes while the men went by. The men took no personal interest in anybody in the household – which was a relief – apart from Mr Martin. He was shut up in one of the offices with Trafford for a long time. When he emerged he looked more white-faced than usual.
    The searchers discovered one of the priest-holes. Later, Anne saw the wooden panelling which had been splintered and smashed by boots and fists and sword hilts. She smelled the damp earthy odour of the tiny chamber that lay revealed behind a passage off the main