“It had occurred to me. Poor, generous old Papa must be a little exercised by the rumours that his son-in-law has bumped off his daughter. I do wonder what his next step might be? Denunciation? Or support and a swift crushing of the rumours by some means or other? Move an innocent pawn into the front line to take the rap? I won’t let that happen! Tread carefully, Dorcas. Better if we keep our distance from each other, and don’t give them an opportunity to cry collusion, I think.”

“Joe! Supercilious know-it-all! I don’t need your collusion, thanks! I had nothing to do with that woman’s self-inflicted death, neither did James and that’s what I’m doing back here. I’ve come to help him prove it!”

“I wonder what persuasive measures he employed to convince you it would be a good idea to revisit the scene of the crime? What did he offer you, Dorcas?” Joe’s voice was heavy with hurt and suspicion.

“You don’t imagine I want to be here, do you? I’ve heard the rumours circulating against James. They’ve been orchestrated, you know. You’ve got that much right. Someone wants James discredited or even behind bars. Someone may even have arranged Lavinia’s death solely for that purpose. Smacked her on the head with a horseshoe? It would have been easy enough to arrange. I could have done it myself. I’m grieved for James—none of it was his fault and he’s got troubles enough without all this sinister back-stabbing.”

“So—you’re here to do a little clearing of names? Sleuthing again, Dorcas?” Joe was relieved and almost amused.

“Not any longer apparently! I hadn’t expected to find Scotland Yard in residence! You know your presence here confirms everyone’s darkest suspicions? A policeman of your standing doesn’t turn up to investigate an accident. You’ve muddied the waters and now, with people on their guard, I shall never get at the truth. James’s wife was hateful and she’s made poor James’s life a misery. She lived in a slough of unhappiness and was determined that everyone close to her should join her in it. I’m glad she’s dead.” She concluded her tirade with a defiant, “We’re glad she’s dead.”

“I could wish you hadn’t lied to me about your part in all this,” he said stiffly.

“So do I. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to tell you I was miles away at the time—you always find things out. I was here that night. We thought the least fuss, the soonest mended. No point in involving others. After all—it was her choice to confront the horse. A thoughtless, suicidally idiotic thing to do. She knew the animal was dangerous, Joe. She took me on a hike round the estate the day before.” Dorcas cringed at the memory. “We inspected the stables but didn’t go near—what was his name?”

“Lucifer.”

“She told me he’d almost killed two of the grooms and was about to be put down by the vet. A huge waste of money, Lavinia reckoned. I asked her how many guineas. No idea! She knew nothing of the cost of things—just assumed she was paying the bills. James was to blame, of course, as the stallion had been his selection. But she intended to save him from his folly.”

She fell silent, seemingly wondering if she had said too much.

Joe kept her focussed, sure that he was getting close to whatever had triggered the unlikely death. “How did she propose to do that? Tell me exactly, Dorcas.”

“She claimed she had the skill to tame the brute. ‘I’ll have him eating out of my hand and following me about like Mary’s little lamb, you’ll see!’ she bragged. Then, sneakily, she slipped in the suggestion she’d been working towards. Her real plan. ‘Unless, of course, Dorcas, you’d like to have the honour? Here’s a wonderful chance to show off those skills with animals everyone—including James—claims that you have. I dare you, Dorcas Joliffe, to parade the stallion in front of the breakfast crowd tomorrow morning, trotting at your heels like a good hound. I dare you!’ She said the words again!”

Joe grimaced, picturing Dorcas’s embarrassment at the juvenile challenge. “Lord! What on earth did you say?”

“I’m afraid I made a bad situation worse. I spoke my mind. I said the last dare I accepted had been twelve years ago. It had resulted in a smacked bottom and a week’s gating from my grandmother. A punishment which vastly outweighed the offence. But it taught me a useful lesson. Dares are set by callous schemers to trap the naive. I told her to grow up.”

“Thus sealing the wretched woman’s fate.” Joe sighed.

“Don’t be silly! She sealed her own fate! Are you deliberately missing the point? It was she who planned my death or injury. I thought you’d have managed to work that much out! She was setting me up for a lethal encounter with that animal.”

“That animal? Are you telling me you couldn’t have worked your magic with him? Was Lavinia’s suspicion right? Have you been deceiving me all these years?”

A scornful smile greeted his lightly delivered question. “You and many others. But I never made the mistake of deceiving myself, Joe. I don’t enter into negotiations with a rabid dog or a horse that’s put two grooms in hospital. There was something about the whole business with this Lucifer that bothered me. Joe, I never set eyes on him so my opinion is probably worth little but it all sounded a bit strange to me. James couldn’t understand it either. The horse had an impeccable pedigree and he’d personally checked him over. James knows his horses. Suffolks are good-tempered beasts. Well, we all saw them nibbling babies with great good humour at the parade.”

“Good-tempered until someone abrades the soft tissue at the edges of the mouth using the emery board from a box of matches or the serrated edge of a half crown. Something you might expect to find in any man’s pocket.”

Dorcas gasped. “How cruel! That’s malice aforethought, isn’t it? Who would do that?”

“Malice is the right word exactly. It was done by someone who had no feeling for the horse and who had a grudge against its owner. Are you aware of a man living and working on the estate who had good reason to feel aggrieved? The Green Man?” Joe lifted an eyebrow, watching her reactions.

“Oh, him! The rat-catcher! Creepy man! He was watching me and Lavinia as we did the tour. She didn’t seem to mind—she even waved at him. I can’t imagine why James puts up with him. He told me he’d given him notice to leave … Oh! There you are! That’s the reason, isn’t it? What are you waiting for, Joe? Go out and bring him in!”

“Listen, Dorcas. Sit down. I’ll make this quick.”

She listened intently as he told her of Adelaide Hartest’s evidence and sketched out a ruthlessly edited version of Goodfellow’s death. He made no mention of the letter or of Phoebe Pilgrim. He’d leave James Truelove to tell his own tale.

The old Dorcas was with him again as she frowned with concentration and responded with quick understanding. “Stoat’s liver, you say? Yes. That would do it. But you’re wrong, Joe—you don’t have to be a Horseman to know that. The gypsies have the knowledge too. But they don’t bother to wrap it up in cat’s urine, rabbit’s blood and toad bone—all that’s just so much abracadabra. Whatever else, it’s not magic! No—first catch your stoat! That’s the vital bit. Goodfellow! He styled himself ‘gamekeeper’ you know. He shot birds and he trapped vermin. The kind who enjoys killing creatures. I saw a row of pathetic little corpses he’d caught and mounted on osier spikes along the edge of the wood where it meets the wheat field. Out in the open. Anyone able to identify a stoat could have helped himself and no one would ever have noticed.”

“It’s chilling to hear you say so, Dorcas.” Again, Joe was assailed by a thought he had instantly to suppress. He forged on: “But someone would then need to be close enough to Lavinia to persuade her—or trick her—into using the horse bate—substance B, let’s call it—instead of the attractant.”