Behold, a Mystery! Read online

Otto was the first to leave the table. He excused himself curtly. Felix was the next to leave. Soon Horatio rose, said, “I shall be in the armaments-room if you need me, Jess,” and left.

  It was the signal for Anita to begin having at me about the marriage licence. Strangely, Gregory did not push the idea at all. I had the feeling he was not so keen for the plan. I soon slipped away and went upstairs. Mary was in my room, waiting to learn her fate. When I told her she was not to come with me she took it without sulking, and promised she would put Mrs. Rampling off if she came to my room. My outer garments and bandbox had already been slipped out to Felix’s carriage. There remained nothing to do but to join them.

  As I went down the hallway towards the servants’ stairs, I noticed Aunt Hettie’s door was ajar. My first thought was that it was Gregory, picking up some trinket. I peeked in, and saw Otto. He was at her private desk, rummaging through her papers. As I watched I saw him remove something from his inner jacket pocket and insert it in a yellow folder she kept in her desk. My curiosity was aroused, and I slipped back to my room to wait until he left. I intended to see what he had put into that folder.

  I was no sooner in my room than a light tap came at the door. I had Mary answer it. Over her shoulder she said, “It’s Mr. Otto, miss, wanting a word with you.”

  I went to the door. “What is it, Otto?” I asked.

  He said, “I thought we might have a look through Aunt Hettie’s papers to see if we might find those letters we spoke of last night.”

  I knew at once what he had been putting in the yellow folder. I went along with him to confirm my suspicion. He was too clever to pounce at once on the yellow folder. We wasted five minutes sorting through boxes containing her personal mementoes—concert bills, dance-cards, letters from her late husband and such things. When I purposely avoided the yellow folder, Otto was forced to open it himself.

  “Here we are!” he exclaimed, and handed me two letters written in his own hand.

  He had made some effort to age the paper by rubbing it until the first crispness was removed. The ink had been watered, to give the look of fading. I glanced at them. Of course he had written what he told me he had written. The first one asked if there was any possibility of Hettie’s sending me to London for a visit, to stay with his parents at their house. Presumably she had said no. The second asked if he might come to Downsview at Easter, and went on to reveal a “long interest in Jessica.”

  How thrilled I would have been had the letters been written when he claimed they were. But as a ruse to trick me into marriage, they left me feeling ill.

  “Very interesting, Otto,” I said with a sneer.

  “This proves I was telling the truth. You see they are written on my own stationery.”

  He obviously carried it about with him, as he had a deal of correspondence to write regarding the Clarion. “It does not prove when they were written,” I replied.

  “They are dated!” he said, pointing to the upper corner.

  I stared hard at him. It was the first time I had ever seen Otto discomposed in just this way. I had seen him angry before, and bluffing his way out of a tight corner. I had seen him put on a charade of uninterest when Hettie hinted that Gregory was her favourite. I had even seen him bluster up at Hettie on my behalf, but I could not remember ever seeing him afraid to meet my gaze before.

  “And the paper well-rubbed too,” I added angrily. “This was a shabby trick, Otto. It is beneath you.”

  His brows drew together. “You are highly suspicious, ma’am. Are you saying—”

  “Cut line, Otto. I saw you put the letters in this folder. You should have made sure the door was closed.”

  His shame quickly rose to anger. “So you have sunk to spying on me! Demme, I had to do something to bring you to your senses. I won’t let you marry that weasel. I did write to Auntie. These are not the letters, but they are as close as I can remember the words. The meaning is the same. I was not trying to deceive you as to my feelings, and their duration.”

  “Forging letters is a poor way to convince me of your honesty. Good day, Otto. I mean to stay in my room today. Please don’t come disturbing me.”

  “Have you given Felix the same orders?”

  “Felix, you recall, is leaving us this morning,” I reminded him.

  “Thank God for that!” he said, and strode angrily from the room.

  I waited until he had turned the corner, then I went quietly down the servants’ stairs and out to Felix’s carriage, wearing just my day frock. Mary had my bonnet, gloves, pelisse and reticule there waiting for me. I put on my pelisse, hid myself on the floor and pulled a blanket over my head.

  Chapter Twenty

  It seemed a long time I waited in the cold darkness of the carriage, with the sounds and pungent reek of the stable all around me. Horses whickered and moved restlessly in their loose boxes, annoyed that Felix’s team was getting out when they must stand idle. I had plenty of time to think, and mostly I thought about Otto’s low stunt in trying to prove he had written to Hettie about marrying me. Surely she would not have been so cruel as to deprive me of marrying Otto years ago, when she knew in her heart I cared for him. Love and a cough cannot be hidden.

  Was that why she had written such a bizarre will, to make it up to me? She preferred that I marry Gregory, but she had not insisted. But no, those letters were merely a ruse to deceive me. And they might very well have done so, had I not seen Otto put them amongst Hettie’s papers.

  Eventually the carriage gave a lurch, telling me that the groom had mounted the box. We lumbered out of the stable and around to the front door. I heard Felix saying his adieus to Gregory, who had come to the door to see him off. Felix entered the carriage. He reached out and patted the blanket to make sure I was there, but he did not say anything. Until the front door was closed and we were a few yards down the driveway, we both sat with bated breath, half-expecting someone would come out and force us to return.

  As we drove beyond view of the house, Felix drew back the blanket and said, “It’s all right, Jessica. They can’t see you now. We’re safe.”

  I felt as if the weight of the world had fallen from my shoulders. I looked out on the bleak countryside and imagined it was beautiful. Actually it was a cold, sullen day. The sky was a dull pewter, with long clouds piled one on top of the other at the horizon. Naked branches of oaks and elms were a tangle of dark-grey limbs etched against the dreary sky, punctuated at intervals by black firs frosted at their tips. The horses’ breaths spouted like steam from a kettle in the cold air.

  We were approximately sixty miles from London. The gentlemen spoke of a journey of five or six hours, but in Felix’s light carriage, with only one team to draw us, a more realistic duration would be eight hours. The ride seemed endless already, and we were not yet half-way to Littlehorn. We would jog along all day in this cold, bumpy little rig, and still be driving when night fell. Hettie’s carriage was old but it was well-sprung and the squabs were of velvet. Felix’s carriage had black leather squabs of an uncompromising hardness. The inferior springing made one aware of every rise or depression in the road. It was extremely dreary to contemplate the long voyage, and I thought of how we might amuse ourselves. I would not rush into quizzing him about his beating in the meadows. First I would cement our friendship and gain his confidence.

  “Tell me about Doctor Evans and his wife, Felix,” I said.

  “As I warned you, they live simply. They do not have a carriage, alas, but of course I shall put mine at your disposal when I do not require it. Doctor Evans is like me— Arcades ambo. Rural people, really, but civilized rurals. They will have plenty of books.”

  “I am afraid we will arrive quite late.”

  “They will be at home. They seldom go out—that will suit you, as you are in mourning.”

  "Yes indeed,” I said dutifully.

  I was used to being house-bound, but I had anticipated going about a bit and seeing the sights of London. This was to be my first visi
t, and I had heard so much about the metropolis. “Perhaps you and I could go to Bond Street and see the shops?” I ventured after a longish silence.

  “Certainly, my dear. Doctor Evans is no censor morum, and you will no doubt require a few items for your toilette.”

  I essayed a few more suggestions, but met with so much Latin that I gave up and just sat silently looking out at the dismal countryside, shivering. Felix opened a book and read, despite the poor light and jiggling seat. The treacherous thought darted into my head that this visit would have been a deal livelier if it were Otto who was whisking me off to London. His well-sprung chaise would have a fur rug, and hot bricks to warm the feet. Despite our being in mourning, he would have arranged a few discreet outings for my visit. Then the image of him slyly inserting those letters into Hettie’s yellow folder darted into my head to restore me to sanity. Better an honest dullard than a charming scoundrel.

  Felix looked up and smiled gently. I was ready to try to like him, until he said, “A natura rei, I would say—”

  I turned off my ears. Silence was preferable to trying to converse in an unknown language. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I would put my questions to him over lunch, when, presumably, he would stop reading. We hit a bad patch of road, and the carriage lurched uncomfortably. Suddenly something snapped, and the carriage tilted to one side, throwing me against the window.

  “What on earth has happened!” I exclaimed.

  “These unmetalled roads! They must have broken a wheel,” he said, and struggled out of the carriage to inspect the damage.

  The groom hopped down from his perch and joined Felix. I bundled myself up in the blanket, wondering how many hours this would add to our journey. The groom would have to walk to Littlehorn, unless he could borrow a nag from a farmer. A worker would have to come and take the wheel to the stableyard. Or perhaps he could make the repair on the spot if it was not too serious. I got out to see how much damage had been done.

  “The axle has broken,” Felix said, and gave a weary sigh. “There is nothing else for it, I shall have to send John Groom back to Downsview to borrow Gregory’s rig.”

  “Gregory’s! But surely the whole point is that no one knows I am with you.”

  “I told Gregory you were coming with me,” he said. “It was the Farrs I did not want to know.”

  I did not trust Gregory by any means. And how had Gregory accepted it so calmly, when he planned to send off to the bishop for a special wedding licence that same day? Gregory did not want to marry me; that was the fact of the matter. Anita was trying to goad him into it.

  It was clear that the Chapman brothers were scheming together behind my back. This trip might be Gregory’s idea for all I knew. I no longer felt it was such a good idea to go to London with Felix. What was to prevent Gregory from following us, and doing his mischief there?

  “Can you not get your axle fixed in Littlehorn?” I asked.

  "That could take hours. You know how they are. We are closer to Downsview. Run along, Ransom, and see if my brother will help us out. There’s a good fellow.”

  The groom said, “If you say so, sir,” and darted off, leaving me alone with Felix.

  “We might as well get back inside. It will be warmer there,” Felix said.

  I was in such a pucker I declined. “The carriage is frigid. I shall walk to keep the blood flowing.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  He got into the carriage and I walked up and down the road for a minute, trying to decide what to do. I took my decision to go and tell Felix I would return to Downsview. I gave a look of disgust at the broken axle. It was a stout affair, about three inches thick. The carriage was new, and the road not that rough. How had the axle broken? I went and examined it. It had snapped close against the rear left wheel. I thought at first that it was not broken at all, but the wheel had just come loose. I took a closer look, and saw the break was perfectly smooth on half the surface of the axle. The other half was jagged. It had been sawn half-way through.

  A shiver of fear trembled up my spine as I stood in the cold, gray air, looking at the source of the planned accident. Gregory was the only one who knew of our trip. He had not even told Anita, as he was bamming her he planned to marry me. Gregory had done it, then. For what possible purpose? It would suit him for me to vanish, if he did not want to marry me. Was it to keep us from reaching London? But we could hire a carriage if he refused to lend his to Felix, or take the mail-coach, for that matter. If we hurried, we could just make it.

  I went to tell Felix about the sawn axle, but I did not suggest his brother as the culprit. He would not believe it. I suggested we take the coach. “We could borrow the Clancys’s gig and drive to Littlehorn. They live less than a mile further along the road. We’ll have to hurry.”

  “Nonsense!” he declared, in the maddening way of a gentleman when discussing horses or carriages with a lady. He condescended to examine the axle, and found an innocent reason for its having broken. “The flaw occurred at the coach-works. Someone began sawing it here, you see,” he said, fingering the break, “then realized he had made it six inches too short, and just made another cut at the proper spot. Shoddy workmanship!”

  “In any case, we could catch the coach if we hurried.”

  “I cannot leave my new carriage unguarded on the roadside. John Groom has gone to Downsview. I do not fancy making you walk a mile to the Clancys’s place in this raw weather. Come into the carriage. I shall keep you warm,” he said, with a conscious smile that was trying to be dashing and failing miserably.

  A carriage appeared in the distance, coming from the direction of Downsview. "There, you see. Gregory has come to our aid already,” he said.

  "There has not been time.”

  I peered into the distance, trying to make out whose carriage it was. The team were bays, high-steppers like Otto’s, but he drove greys. So did Gregory. Horatio, then.

  My heart lifted. I trusted Horatio more than any of them. Him and Felix I considered fairly safe. Felix had betrayed me to Gregory, but I felt that was due more to naiveté than anything else. He would not have told Gregory of his plan if it were Gregory who had given him that beating in the park. Felix either truly did not know who had assaulted him, or he knew it was not Gregory.

  Horatio’s carriage drew to a stop when he spotted us. He stuck his head out the window and said, “Jessica, I did not know you had gone for a spin. I thought Felix was going to London this morning. I see you have met with a spot of trouble. Nasty day for a breakdown. Can I give you a lift home?"

  Horatio’s frown told me he was trying to make sense of my being with Felix at this time. He would soon work it out. I had lost my enthusiasm for London. Gregory was aware of our destination, and now Otto would know too, for Horatio could not be trusted to hold his tongue. There was no safety when all my suspected murderers knew where I was going. A decent carriage could overtake us before we were half-way there.

  “Thank you,” I said. “It is frigid here. Please take me home.”

  “Hop in,” he said, and got out to hold the door for me.

  I retrieved my bandbox and told Felix I had changed my mind. He was quite upset at first, but eventually accepted it.

  “I am surprised it was not Otto who dashed to your rescue,” he said curtly. “I begin to wonder if you were not right about someone having damaged that axle on purpose. Of course Otto is sharp enough to send Horatio to do his errand for him. Take care you are not hopping from the frying-pan into the fire, Jessica.”

  "This carriage is no frying-pan. It is more like an icehouse,” I retorted.

  “I did not realize you had become accustomed to luxury so quickly!” he retaliated. “Just remember what I said. Do not put all your faith in the Farrs. They are not your real family, as Gregory and I are. You may tell Gregory I shan’t use his rig after all, but wait until mine is repaired. I only asked for it for your comfort. I shall just drive his to Littlehorn and send it back to him. I expect he wi
ll have a few pointless errands to run today.”

  His insolent tone and sharp look told me he knew all about the plan to get a special licence. As he called it a “pointless” errand, I think he also knew that neither Gregory nor I had any intention of getting married.

  “Have a safe journey,” I said, trying to damp down my anger.

  “Absit invidia, Jessica. Vive, vale?

  “If that means goodbye, then the same to you.”

  He just smiled a cool, cynical smile, then he lifted his book and ignored me.

  In Horatio’s carriage I wrapped myself in a cosy fur rug, placed my frozen feet on a hot brick and breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage lurched forward. His groom had turned the horses back towards Downsview while I took my unhappy leave of Felix.

  “Was you making a bolt for it, Jess?” he asked bluntly.

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Why, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Because I was afraid.”

  “Can’t say I blame you, but me and Otto will look after you, never fear.”

  “How did you happen to be driving this way today?”

  “Otto asked me to take a run into Littlehorn and pick up the latest journals. He was doing a bit of writing himself. I’ll send my groom into the village for the papers after I get you home. If you wanted to get away, Jess, you should have told me. I would have taken you wherever you wanted to go.”

  “I have no place to go, Horatio. That is exactly the trouble. Felix offered to take me to stay with friends of his, Doctor Evans and his wife. He is a retired professor.”

  “Maybe he is, and maybe he ain’t. I’m not calling Felix a liar, but once he got you alone in London, he could have done what he wanted with you. Did you ever think of that?”

  “I don’t think he wanted to do anything except bore me to tears. If you are thinking of a forced wedding, or something of that sort—”

  “I was thinking of murder, actually,” he said calmly. “Him and Greg, close as inkle-weavers. Greg would not have been a day behind him. And the Rampling as well. She would have lured you off somewhere ...”