Free The Lovegrove Hermit by Rosemary Craddock Page A

hermit’s cell on her own. Would it not have been more in order for her to have found one of the gardeners or returned to the house and despatched one of the servants to find out if there was anything wrong?
    ‘Take her back indoors,’ I said to Sophie, ‘and I will go and see for myself. She may be mistaken.’
    ‘I am not mistaken!’ she cried furiously. ‘And I am
not
going back to the house.’
    ‘Very well, wait here. I shan’t be long.’
    I hurried to the hermitage and found, as she described, a can of milk and a loaf of bread placed near the door, which was ajar – left so by Elinor, I supposed.
    I peeped inside, having tried to prepare myself for ashocking sight. It was worse than I had imagined. The hermit lay sprawled on his bed still wearing his monkish robes. There was blood all over his pillow and a pistol in his left hand. There seemed little doubt he had shot himself. I drew back quickly, shaking at the knees and feeling decidedly queasy. It was necessary for me to regain my composure before rejoining the two girls but I longed to sit down with a glass of water and a kindly arm around me; whose arm I did not greatly care at that moment.
    At last I managed to summon up enough self-possession to retrace my steps to where I had left Sophie and Elinor. The latter had mastered her hysteria but was still very distressed and I put my arm round her shoulders.
    ‘Come along, my dear. We’ll go back and find your father. He must be told at once and he’ll know what to do.’
    Sir Ralph and my brother were just leaving the stables dressed for riding but they both saw at once that something was wrong.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ enquired Sir Ralph. ‘Has Elinor had an accident?’
    ‘No,’ I said, answering for her. ‘But she’s had a dreadful experience. She found the hermit dead on his bed.’
    ‘Dead? But I saw him yesterday and he looked perfectly well.’
    ‘Not a natural death, I’m afraid. I think I’d better take Elinor indoors and give her sal volatile.’
    ‘Never mind sal volatile. She needs a drop of brandy. Come now, my dear.’ He patted her cheek with clumsy affection . ‘You’ve had a nasty shock but you’ll soon feel better. I’d better go and see for myself.’
    George offered to go with him and I fancy Sir Ralph wasglad of his company.
    ‘I want to be left alone,’ said Elinor, as we made our way through a side door into the house. ‘For heaven’s sake don’t let either of those two near me – you know who I mean.’ It was obvious she was referring to Lady Denby and Mrs Thorpe. I reflected that I would certainly not want their cold comfort if I was distressed so I agreed soothingly and suggested she went straight up to her room and lie down for a while. I sent Sophie to find Elinor’s maid and tell her to bring brandy, then I went upstairs with Elinor. She clung to the balustrade, as though she found great difficulty standing upright. As soon as she reached her room she ran to the bed, flung herself on top of it and gave way to wild tears. I began to suspect that this emotional outburst was not entirely the result of a disturbing experience. It was more like grief than shock.
    I was reluctant to leave her in this state so I sat on the edge of her bed and waited quietly until the paroxysm subsided.
    ‘No one understands,’ she gulped at last, ‘no one knows. I couldn’t possibly tell anyone in this house – they are all so selfish and insensitive. Lady Denby thinks she’s a martyr to sensibility but she wouldn’t know what it was if it hit her in the face.’
    ‘I’m inclined to agree.’
    ‘Really?’ She sat up, mopping her face with a sodden handkerchief. I found a towel, dipped it in her water jug and wiped her stained cheeks. I took away her handkerchief and gave her mine.
    ‘Even dear Papa,’ she continued, ‘he doesn’t understand. I couldn’t possibly confide in him.’
    ‘Doesn’t it depend on what you have to confide?’
    ‘I think I can trust