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“There’s no hotels in Farleigh. We’ve an inn you could enquire at.”

“Perhaps,” I ventured, “we could stay with the Duchess.”

“You’ll be wanting to go up to Farleigh House, then.” Elsebeth tapped her teeth. “I could take you to the village, and point the way from there?”

“That would be splendid,” said Havelock.

I hauled our luggage through the forest, while Havelock made polite conversation with the group. It was a rough route through the trees—and I found myself almost tripping over roots as we went—but the villagers helpfully guided us through the worst tangles, and over the steepest inclines. Indeed, they moved so easily through the forest that it was clear they were very well acquainted with it.

Havelock became distracted by the trees, and conversation tailed off. The air was rich with birdsong, and from time to time one of the villagers would respond—whistling in kind. We paused beside a brook, and I rubbed a handful of cold water onto my neck. Despite the coolness of the shade beneath the trees, it was still a hot day. Havelock’s attention remained on the trees. “What do you see?” I asked him.

“Oh,” he said, startled from some deep thought. “I’m not certain, yet. It is a very beautiful forest—of that much I’m sure.”

“Some of the finest fruit in the Empire comes from Farleigh,” said Elsebeth.

“Does it?” said Havelock.

“It does. There’s them that pay high prices for Farleigh fruit.”

“How much is a peach?”

“For you, sirs—here’s a sample.” Elsebeth threw one over from her satchel, and Havelock caught it, turning it over in his hands. It was gorgeously ripe. He cut a couple of slices with his pocketknife, and handed one to me. The smell of it was fragrant, and when I bit into it, the juices burst in my mouth. It was divine—certainly the finest peach I had ever had the pleasure of tasting.

“How does one order fruit from Farleigh?” I asked.

“For that, you’ll have to correspond with the Duchess,” said Elsebeth.

Havelock cut the remainder of the peach into slices, and we enjoyed them together as we resumed our way through the forest. “What do you think?” I asked.

“I think,” said Havelock, studying the peach’s stone, “that if the Duchess commands private purchasers in the way that I suspect she does, we might have found the source of Farleigh’s wealth.”

The village, when we arrived, was difficult to discern from the forest. Indeed, it felt as if the forest was inhabiting the village as much as its villagers. Trees taller than the rooftops cast shade over the lanes, and here and there they grew in the very centre of the pathways—there was certainly no room for cabs or horses. The architecture was archaic, and as worn-looking as its inhabitants—composed largely of thatch in want of neatness, and bulging stone walls in want of reinforcement. Elsebeth directed us to a lane that led up a slope, giving us instructions for reaching Farleigh House that would take us past the local church.

The church in question still stood strong enough—its spire protruding from the forest canopy—but it was equally as overgrown as the village. Moss clung to the windowsills, and small trees were growing from cracks in the walls, making it look as if the interior might be a mass of roots. There seemed to be a tree for every grave in the graveyard, and I wiped the grime from a grave as we passed, but could not read the worn lettering. There came to us the sound of a voice orating, and we followed it to the rear of the church, where there was a grassy clearing, shaded against the sunshine. At the edge of the clearing stood a man in a cassock, reading aloud to the forest from a Bible.

We moved on—not daring to disturb him.

“Practicing his next sermon, do you think?” I said.

“Psalm one, verse three, if I’m not mistaken,” said Havelock. “‘And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.’”

I laughed. “Very appropriate.”

Havelock chuckled. Then, softly, so that he would not be overheard, he said, “Do you think we will ever get married? Say our vows before a priest?”

It was a preposterous proposition, but it warmed me. “I can think of nothing I would like more,” I replied, softly in kind.

“I think I should like it too,” said Havelock, and in spite of the clandestine exchange, he could not disguise his smile. He was in a merry mood, and so was I. Perhaps it was simply that we were away from London for the first time in months, making our expedition feel like something of a holiday. There was something lovely about Farleigh Forest, though—bees hummed in the late-summer air, sunlight dappled the forest floor, and I had to admit that it felt as if we were on an adventure.

The wind began to pick up as we neared Farleigh House.

Branches shifted, making a dance of light and shadow. Leaves rustled, and those trees with looser autumnal leaves shed some; they tumbled around us. We emerged onto a long lawn with grasses so tall the wind moved them in waves, and beyond that lawn was the house itself. Loose slates twitched on its roof, and threadbare curtains flowed about beyond its cracked windows, and its weathervane—though bent and rusted—swung around, creaking. There were branches and whole canopies rising from gaps in the masonry, and they too heaved about, causing a little dust to rise where they struck against the walls. A cellar door rattled and slammed, clouds rolled quickly overhead, and there was, improbably, the sound of wind chimes.

We admired the house from the edge of the forest.

“It looks as if it might collapse at any moment,” I said.

“An evocative place for a murder,” mused Havelock, leading the way. It was hard going through the grasses, until we found a narrow, paved path formed of ancient flagstones, which took us to a ruined set of stables. There were no horses, but several signs that there had once been: rusted horseshoes, and tarnished leather reins, and a rusted pitchfork leant up against a wall. There were still some staves standing where there had clearly once been stalls, but it looked as if most of the wood had been scavenged. Indeed, as we rounded the house, we could see places, here and there, where rough repairs had been made.