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walk, and the door hung at an angle.
 Perhaps you should stay here, my lady, he tried. But she was already climbing down from the gig
without his help.
He gritted his teeth and held out his arm pointedly. She took it without protest, wrapping her fingers
around him.
He could feel her warmth through his coat, and it soothed him somehow. They walked to the door. Harry
knocked on it, hoping he wouldn t bring the whole place down.
Sounds of movement came from within, and then stopped. No one answered the door. Harry banged on
the door again and waited. He was raising his arm to try a third time, when the old wood creaked open.
A boy of about eight stood mutely in the doorway. His hair, greasy and overlong, hung in his brown eyes.
He was barefoot and wore clothes gray with age.
 Is your mother at home? Harry asked.
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 Who is it, lad? The voice was harsh, but it held no malice.
 Gentry, Gran.
 What? A woman appeared behind the boy. She was nearly as tall as a man, rawboned and
strong-looking despite her age, but her eyes were bewildered and fearful, as though angels had come
calling at her doorstep.
 We ve some questions to ask you. About Annie Pollard, Harry said. The woman simply continued to
stare. He might ve been speaking French.  This is the Pollard cottage, isn t it?
 Don t like to talk about Annie. The woman looked down at the boy, who hadn t taken his gaze away
from Harry s face. Abruptly, she cuffed him across the back of the head.  Go on! Go find something to
do.
The boy didn t even blink, just walked past them and around the corner of the cottage. Maybe that was
how his grandmother always spoke to him.
 What about Annie? she asked.
 I ve heard that she was involved with Lord Granville, he started cautiously.
 Involved? Aye, that s a pretty word for what it was. The woman curled her lip to reveal dark gaps
where her front teeth had been. Her pink tongue poked through.  Why do you want to know about
that?
 Someone s killing sheep, Harry said.  I ve heard that Annie or perhaps someone close to her might
have a reason for doing it.
 I don t know nothing about those sheep. She started to close the door.
Harry stuck his boot in the crack.  Does Annie?
She shook.
Harry thought at first that he might have driven her to tears, then she raised her head, and he saw her face
was split by a grotesque smile.
 Maybe she does, does Annie, she wheezed.  If they know about the doings of the living in the fires of
hell.
 Then she s dead? Lady Georgina spoke for the first time.
Her crisp accent seemed to sober the woman.  Either that or might as well be. She leaned tiredly against
the door.  Her name was Annie Baker, you know. She was married. At least she was until he came
sniffing after her.
 Lord Granville? Lady Georgina murmured.
 Aye. The devil hisself. The woman sucked in her upper lip.  Annie threw over Baker. She was
Granville s whore for as long as he wanted her, which wasn t long. Came back here with her belly big
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and stayed just long enough to whelp. Then she took off again. Last I heard she was spreading her legs
for a cup of gin. She looked suddenly wistful.  A lass don t last long as a gin slut, do she?
 No, Harry said quietly.
Lady Georgina looked stunned, and he was sorry he hadn t been able to talk her into staying behind at
Woldsly Manor. He d dragged her into a cesspit.
 Thank you for telling us about Annie, Mrs. Pollard, Harry spoke gently to the old woman. Despite her
hardened manner, it must have pained her to talk about ancient hurts.  I ve only one more question, and
then we ll bother you no more. Do you know what happened to Mr. Baker?
 Oh, him. Mrs. Pollard waved a hand as if flicking away a fly.  Baker took up with another lass. I ve
heard he even married her, though it can t be right in the church, him already married to Annie. Not that
Annie cares. Not anymore. She closed the door.
Harry frowned, then decided he d questioned the old woman enough.  Come, my lady. He took Lady
Georgina s elbow and escorted her back up the path. As he was helping her into the gig, he glanced
back.
The boy leaned on the corner of the cottage, head down, one bare foot on top of the other. He d
probably heard every word his grandmother had said about his mother. There weren t enough hours in
the day to solve all the problems of this world. Da had said that often enough when Harry had been
growing up.
 Wait a moment, my lady. Harry strode the short distance to the boy.
He looked up warily as Harry approached but didn t move otherwise.
Harry looked down at him.  If she dies, or you find yourself without, come to me. My name is Harry
Pye. Repeat it.
 Harry Pye, the boy whispered.
 Good. Here, see if she ll get you some clothes.
He placed a shilling in the boy s hand and returned to the gig without waiting for thanks. It had been a
sentimental gesture and one that was probably useless. The old woman was as likely to use the shilling for
gin as to buy the boy new clothes. He climbed in the gig, ignoring Lady Georgina s smile, and took up the
reins. When he glanced again at the boy, he was staring at the coin in his hand. They pulled away.
 What an awful story. Her smile had died.
 Yes. Harry looked sideways at her.  I m sorry you heard it. He urged the horse into a trot. Best to be
off Granville land as soon as possible.
 I don t think anyone in that family could be poisoning the sheep. The woman is too old and afraid, the
boy too young, and it sounds like Annie s husband has got on with his life. Unless Annie came back?
He shook his head.  If she s been at the gin stalls all this time, she s no threat to anyone. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]