Ruarke took her hand. “Because he has a healthy fear of it.”
They did not have long to wait before the vicar returned with his curate, an elderly man who looked somewhere around fifty or sixty and whose name was Simon Cornwake. The vicar’s wife rolled in the tea cart and offered each of them a cup of tea and raisin cake. “How lovely,” Heather said, and smiled at the woman.
Since the vicar’s wife appeared to have no intention of leaving them to their privacy, Ruarke decided to let her remain. In fact, she could be helpful to the discussion. Women always knew more about family histories than men did. “When did the ghost first come into being, Mr. Cornwake? Do you know who the girl is exactly? It is common knowledge her name is Bella Evans. But who was her family? Were they of importance in the area? Were any questions raised regarding the manner of her death?”
The curate took a sip of his tea and then set down his cup. “I shall do my best to answer all your questions, Your Grace. Just keep in mind that most of my knowledge is gossip handed down from my grandparents to my parents, and now to me.”
Heather squeezed Ruarke’s hand. He covered it with his own as the curate began to relate his story.
“My grandmother was only a girl when it happened, but she knew Bella. They were neighbors and schoolmates. According to her, Bella was a lovely child. She never put on airs, even though her father was the local magistrate and quite prominent in the area.”
“Bella is also my mother’s name,” Heather said. “Bella Evans was her maiden name. I think she might have been born here.”
“And possibly died here,” Ruarke added, putting an arm around her. “We hope your records will tell us all we wish to know. Miss Alwyn’s mother might have been named after this very ghost.”
“But our ghost also had a sister,” Heather added. “Do you know what happened to her?”
“Millicent? She was a half-sister to Bella,” Cornwake said. “The magistrate’s first wife died several years after giving birth to Millicent. She was their only child. He married Bella’s mother about a year later. Several years after that, Bella was born. Theywere the magistrate’s only children, two girls about six years apart in age.”
“What happened to the elder daughter, Mr. Cornwake?” Heather asked.
“Oh, Millicent went on to marry a Barclay. You must know the current Miss Barclay, Your Grace.”
Ruarke nodded. “She is attending my house party.”
“A most unpleasant young lady,” the vicar’s wife muttered.
The vicar cast her a warning glance. “My dear! You must not speak unkindly of our parishioners.”
“I am only saying what is true.”
Ruarke was curious. “Tell me, Mrs. Orman. I expect we hold the same opinion of her, but what has she done to make you think this of her?”
“She is a sneaky thing. Always jealous of others and not above accusing someone of misdeeds if she considers them a rival. I think this trait must run in her family. Her mother is the same way. Just last week she made a fuss about her gloves being stolen when—”
“Please, my dear,” the vicar said. “She found them and all is well.”
“Millicent was also a sneak, according to my grandmother,” Cornwake interjected. “She claimed Millicent was terribly jealous of Bella. After the younger sister died, Millicent was the only child, and her father doted on her. Miss Alwyn, I see you are frowning.”
“Is it possible Millicent was with Bella when she drowned? What did your grandmother tell you of that day?”
He shook his head. “She always thought it odd that Bella lost her life in those caves. Bella was an adventurous girl, but understood the tides. Everyone in these parts did, for anyone raised near the sea learns early to respect its power. That’s what always troubled my grandmother. Bella would never havegone to the Singing Caves at high tide. No, Your Grace. My grandmother was adamant about that.”
“Was there an investigation conducted?” Ruarke asked.
“Yes, but nothing ever came of it. An inquest was held, led by the Duke of Arran, your very own great-grandfather, but he determined her death to be accidental. The girl slipped and hit her head, that was the ruling. My grandmother never believed it. She had seen Millicent walking to the beach with Bella that afternoon.”
“Did she report this to the duke?” Heather asked.
“Yes, but Millicent insisted she had returned home and not gone down to the beach or the caves with her sister. There were no witnesses to contradict her statement. It was a sad day for the village. Bella was a beautiful girl with golden curls and sunshine in her smile. She had eyes as green as an Irish meadow. Those are my grandmother’s exact words.” Cornwake paused a moment to stare at Heather. “Miss Alwyn, I could be describing you. Well, there is nothing more to tell.”
“What of the other Bella Evans, Miss Alwyn’s mother?” Ruarke asked.
The curate shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about her. She could have lived here, but I was sent off to school as a boy, and then continued my studies at Oxford. There are gaps in my knowledge of our little corner of Cornwall.”
“May we look at the registers now?” Heather asked.
The vicar rose. “Yes, of course. Let me bring them in here for you.”
