Behold, a Mystery! Read online

  Skelling did live just beyond Littlehorn. I felt the question had been answered. “Very likely.” As I turned to leave, I noticed Horatio’s pistol case was still, or again, in the armaments-room. It was on the table with the astronomical implements. The open lid revealed only one pistol in the case.

  “Where is your other pistol, Horatio?” I asked.

  “Eh? Why, it is ...” He looked flustered.

  “Don’t tell me it has disappeared! Someone has stolen it!”

  “Nothing of the sort. I had my groom put it in the pocket of my carriage as a precaution. Mean to say, with a murderer loose ...”

  “Is this one charged?”

  “No. It’s as safe as may be. Would you like to have a practice shot now? There is time before dinner.”

  I thought Horatio was nearly one hundred percent safe, but still I did not want to be alone with him and a pistol. “Another time. I must go now.”

  I left Horatio to his fox-watching and returned to the study to attend to some personal letters. I would require more mourning-clothes, and I wrote to Mrs. Maherne asking her to let me know when it would be convenient for her to call. There were notes to neighbours thanking them for their attentions at the time of Hettie’s death.

  My activities helped to keep more unpleasant thoughts at bay. Someone was trying to kill me. The gentlemen were eager to resume their normal lives; there were not many more days when I would be so easily available to them. The next attempt might come soon. Very soon.

  Horatio’s manner had seemed—uneasy, was the closest I could come to pin-pointing it. I felt he was prevaricating, both about what he was watching in the park, and about where his pistol was. And even about Otto’s destination. All those “eh’s?” suggested confusion, yet my questions had been straightforward enough.

  Soon Juteclaw called me to tea. “Tea’s on, miss,” he said in his old style.

  “Miss who?” I asked, to remind him.

  “Why, yourself, miss,” he said, looking around to see if he had overlooked someone.

  Juteclaw was too old for his duties, but it would be a cruelty to retire him. He loved answering the doors and making his announcements.

  “Of course,” I said in a benign mood. I must not let my misery vent itself on the servants. “Has Mr. Otto returned, Juteclaw?”

  “Never a sign of him, miss. He’ll miss his tea, but he’ll be back for dinner. Mary tells me his valet is in the kitchen this minute pressing up his black trousers. Oh, he’s a demon for style, is Mr. Otto.”

  “You should not gossip about the guests, Juteclaw,” I said, but my heart was not in it.

  “Sure if we did not gossip, what would we have to talk about, miss? I always like a good gossip myself.”

  He held the door and I left, bested by my butler.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Tea was a quiet affair, served in the purple saloon. As it came hot from the kitchen, passing directly from Cook’s hands to Juteclaw’s, I could eat without worry for my life. Gregory and Anita sat on a sofa a little apart from the rest of us, discussing their return to London. Horatio and I carried on a desultory conversation, mostly about Cleremont.

  Having learned from Otto that I did not intend to go there, he outlined its manifold charms to tempt me. I knew it was a marvel, but the features Horatio discussed were not those that interested me. Neither shooting nor hunting nor fishing were in my style. I was in deep mourning and could take little part in the social life, but that was what I really wanted to hear about.

  As if by mutual consent, we all left the purple saloon as soon as we had finished our tea. “Back to the armaments-room for me,” Horatio said.

  “It is coming on dark. You won’t be able to spot the fox,” I pointed out.

  “True. Would you mind if I took Hettie’s mount out for a bit? I am skittish from sitting all day.”

  “Go ahead, but be careful. The park is full of rabbit holes. They will be hard to see at twilight.”

  I envied him his freedom. How I would have enjoyed a ride, but I dared not set myself up as a target. I remembered Felix’s attack and said, “Do be careful, Horatio.”

  “He’s not after me,” he replied, which told me he was thinking of my danger, even if he did not often mention it.

  I passed the time until dinner in my room alone, with the door locked. The new lock gave me a sense of security. The turbulent emotions of the day had fatigued me. I actually dozed off for an hour, and awoke feeling refreshed. Mary came tapping at the door at six-thirty to help me prepare for dinner.

  “You’ve gone and got your skirt all wrinkled, miss,” she said. “Why don’t you wear a coloured gown? Sure it’s only family. They won’t mind if you’re not all in black. You don’t want the Rampling creature to outshine you entirely.”

  “No, I shall wear the black silk. Has Mr. Farr returned?”

  “Indeed he has. He was asking after you, miss. He was pleased as punch to see you’d got a new lock installed on your door. He asked me if Cook had the extra key.”

  “Did he? And what did you tell him?”

  “I told him I didn’t know what you’d done with it, but you hadn’t give it to Cook. What did you do with it, miss?”

  “I kept both keys myself.”

  “Maybe you’d ought to give me one, for safety’s sake.”

  I felt safer with both keys in my pocket. Otto could wind Mary round his thumb. She was wonderfully fond of him. "They are quite safe in my pocket.” I transferred them, along with the small knife, to my evening gown before going downstairs. The pocket was small, but I managed to get them all in.

  “I’ll just tidy up your room, miss,” Mary said. “If you leave me a key, I can lock up when I leave.”

  “There is no need.” I began to wonder at her persistence. Had Otto set her the task of getting one of the keys? It was not the room I was concerned about, but myself. I would be sure to lock the door before retiring.

  Otto and Horatio were in the purple saloon when I went downstairs. They both rose and bowed when I entered.

  “You look very nice, Jess,” Horatio said.

  “I shall have a few more gowns made up soon.”

  Otto watched and listened, then said, “It is a pity your first foray into elegance must be hampered by mourning gowns. Pray do not take that as a slur on your former toilette. I meant only that you would look well in brighter colours.”

  “A nice scarlet or yaller,” Horatio said, gazing at me through squinting eyes.

  Otto’s eyes twinkled. “Do you see yourself as a scarlet lady, Jess?” he asked, drawing me towards the sofa.

  "The primary colours are too savage for me.”

  “And too declassee” he added. “I am happy to see you got a new lock for that door. You have both keys safely put away.”

  “Yes,” I said curtly.

  He did not ask me where they were, but he looked as if he would like to. Horatio stopped squinting and asked his brother how the interview with the M.P. had gone.

  “I wanted Skelling’s views on the Luddites, but one questions a politician in vain. He always wiggles into a defence of the Tory’s policies if he is a Tory, or lambastes them if he is a Whig. Mr. Skelling is a Tory. I shan’t waste space in the Clarion on his views.”

  Anita arrived next, looking very dashing in another violet gown, not the one she had worn the evening before. She really was extremely elegant. And she did not have a dresser with her either. She had arranged that intricate coiffure by herself. She fawned on Otto, was polite to me, and ignored Horatio, who picked up a journal and ignored us all.

  Gregory joined us just before dinner was called. Otto took my arm and said in a low voice, “I wonder what kept Gregory. He was already upstairs dressing when I returned three-quarters of an hour ago.”

  “I expect Mrs. Rampling could tell you.”

  “Why, Jessica! Are you implying you know what real lovers do? I doubt he was boring her with Latin quotations.”

  “I should think
even true lovers occasionally do other things than make love.”

  “But I did not say true. I said real.”

  “Is there a difference? I meant they were probably discussing their remove from Downsview.”

  I expected an argument on the nature of love, but he only said, “Did you get a reply from Croton?”

  “He is to call tomorrow at ten.”

  “I must leave by tomorrow at the latest. I think you should go to Cleremont. Horatio can accompany you.”

  “What is the danger, when everyone has left?”

  “Who is to say they won’t return?”

  We had reached the dining-room. I took my seat at the head of the table without making a reply, but I was perfectly aware that what he said was true.

  Gregory sat at the foot of the table. Anita complained that the board was too long; we should all sit at one end. When no one paid her any heed, she moved down and sat beside Gregory.

  It was not a pleasant meal. The mutton was underdone for my taste and the fowl was dry. Or perhaps I was just not hungry. I noticed the others were only pecking at their food too. There was an air of uneasiness in the room. As before, conversation would cease for a noticeable length of time, then two or three people would speak at once, just to break the ominous silence.

  Otto kept casting glances out the window, or perhaps he was looking at our reflection in the glass. He really could not see anything beyond, for it was pitch-black out. I was eager to escape and leave the gentlemen to their port. When we ladies retired to the saloon, Anita decided she was my friend again, and resumed calling me Jessica. She repeated her offer to stay with her in London, or go with her to Ireland if I preferred. She did not dredge up the old idea of a ménage a trois, for which I was grateful.

  The gentlemen soon joined us, but had hardly taken a seat before Otto excused himself, saying he had work to do. He would give Skelling a few paragraphs after all.

  “Make them suitably flattering. It would stand you in good stead with Prinney,” Gregory suggested. He was always ready for ways to turn a situation to one’s advantage. It was second nature to him.

  “My principles are not so elastic,” Otto replied.

  “For God’s sake, don’t rip up at Skelling at least,” Horatio said with a frown.

  It seemed Horatio was not so sure the lawsuit would be dropped. As Horatio took his opinions from his brother, then Otto must be in real jeopardy of having to pay the five thousand and losing his beloved journal. That, I felt, was the only thing that might drive him to murder. It was certainly not an excuse. Nothing could excuse such a heinous act, but it was a motive.

  Anita suggested a game of whist. When no one showed any interest, she did not pursue it. We sat about, talking desultorily for half an hour. Gregory picked up a journal; Anita opened one of the fashion publications that she had brought with her. Horatio decided to write to his mama, and went to the library to do it. I remained in the saloon long enough to show my goodwill, but when the others kept reading, I decided to get a book from the library and read it there, to bear Horatio company.

  I was not really surprised to see he had been lured into the armaments-room. I went to the library and read, feeling secure to know he was across the hallway from me, within shouting distance. And of course I still had the knife in my pocket. At ten o’clock I went upstairs to bed.

  I stopped at the top of the staircase and looked along the corridor leading to my room. There was no one there. I looked towards the west wing and saw Otto at the far end of the hall. He came pacing towards me.

  “That window was open an inch at the bottom,” he said in some excitement. There were square windows at either end of the hall for light and ventilation. They were not mullioned windows, but opened by raising the bottom half. “Surely Hettie did not keep it open in winter?”

  “No, of course not. The servants must have done it. Young Almond, one of the footmen, will sometimes leave it open and sneak in that way when he has been out late. There is a stout vine growing up the wall there. Almond is seeing a young serving wench from Weldon’s. He chooses the west wing as it is usually empty.”

  “A girl from Weldon’s, you say?”

  “Yes, Jeanie Pughe. They plan to marry in the spring.”

  “I closed the window and fastened it. Let young Almond wake Cook to get in. He should not be sneaking around behind her back.”

  “I thought you would be more sympathetic to young lovers, Otto. By all means leave the window fastened if it will make you feel better.”

  He accompanied me to my room, I could see the door was ajar and a light burning within, telling me that Mary was on guard.

  Otto said, “I want to hear your key turn in the lock before I leave.”

  “Would you also like to see that the window has not been removed?”

  He defeated my attempt at satire by giving me a serious reply. “You would notice that, though you have been singularly unobservant in certain other respects. Will Mary sleep in your room?”

  “That won’t be necessary, with the precautions I have taken.”

  “I shall wait until she comes out,” he said, and leaned against the wall to do just that.

  “She will be out at once. I am accustomed to doing my own dressing. Good night, Otto. I hope you sleep well.”

  “I shan’t sleep. If you hear a sound outside your door in the night, don’t be frightened. It will only be your faithful hound, watching out for your safety.”

  “How reassuring,” I said in a thin voice.

  Otto bit back some sharp reply and said, “You are welcome, Jessica.”

  I went into my chamber, closing the door behind me. Mary had been helping with the cleaning up in the kitchen. She said she would press the bombazine and have it in my room by morning. I sent her off and locked the door behind her.

  As it was early, I did not undress at once, but prowled the room for a few minutes, trying to shake off the uneasiness that bothered me. All Otto’s talk of opened windows and guarding my door had filled me with nervous apprehension. He had Mary now to testify that he was taking every precaution for my safety.

  Well, tomorrow he would be gone, and tonight I would be perfectly safe, with the new lock on my door. I went to look out the window, in case there should be a mysterious ladder in the vicinity. I noticed the wooden strips Otto had made were not there. I could not remember seeing him replace them after he had taken them out to show me.

  I did not think the window a likely means of access by any means, but I was curious what had happened to the wood strips. I found them in the waste-basket beside my desk. Perhaps they had fallen, and Mary had picked them up. I jiggled the windows. The catch did seem very loose. Telling myself I was obsessed with caution, I jammed them back in at the window.

  Remembering last night’s attack of thirst, I looked at my water decanter. That was one danger that attended having left my door unlocked. I rang and asked Mary to bring me up a fresh decanter of water, straight from the kitchen pump. She was happy to oblige me.

  “Mr. Otto will be glad to hear you’re being so cautious, miss. Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep in your room?”

  “Quite sure, thank you. You will sleep better in your own bed.”

  “No, miss, on the floor in Cook’s room,” she replied. “I am taking no chances with my life.”

  When she returned with the water, she wanted to help me undress. I let her, as she was so eager, but first I removed the keys and small knife from my pocket, hiding the latter from her in the palm of my hand.

  “Now look at that!” she said, examining the black silk. “You’ve gone and got a rip at the pocket.” The keys and knife were heavy. A few stitches had come undone. “I’ll take it to my room and fix it up for you, miss. A stitch will make it good as new.”

  It was an unaccustomed luxury to have these chores done for me. I never much cared for sewing, and was happy to let her do it. I was finally alone, with the door locked, the windows protected, with safe water in
case I should need it in the night, and with the knife under my pillow.

  So what could account for the morbid sense of misapprehension that hung about me? It was just nerves. Every little squeak and squawk that sounded in the old house became an assailant creeping up on me. I heard sounds under the bed, in the clothes-press, from the doorway, and from every corner of the room.

  I resolutely blew out the lamp, lay my head on the pillow, closed my eyes, and thought of Bath. I would go to Bath with Mr. Walgrave’s widowed sister as my chaperone, and all these foolish fancies would evaporate. I would not let myself become a laughable spinster, looking under her bed at night. After the year of mourning was up, I would register my name at the assembly rooms and meet some people my own age.

  Anything is bearable, as long as one has something pleasant to look forward to. My heart stopped racing, my eyelids fluttered, and eventually I fell into a fitful doze.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I awakened in the dead of night with a convulsive leap that felt as though my body had gone on a dream trip and returned to bed with a jarring thump. Thoroughly awake, I lay quiet a moment, trying to remember what I had been dreaming that caused my whole body to give that start. As I lay in the dark with my heart gradually slowing to normal, I heard a squeak from the far corner of the room. I was accustomed to the usual night sounds of my room. This one was different, not the complaint of shrinking wood, but a definite sound of movement.

  My body tensed as I lay waiting to hear if it came again. The next noise was different, the soft, furtive rustle of silk. I could not imagine what made that sound. Then it came again, more noticeable now, followed by a slower, measured sound as of cautious movement, there in the far corner. What was there? Not the door, not the window, but the clothes-press. My clenched heart relaxed. Mary had left the door of the clothes-press ajar. The slight squeaking sound was the door swinging on its hinges, the rustle was my gowns, disturbed by a vagrant breeze. I listened again, and heard nothing.

  My eyelids closed once more and I soon returned to that somnolent state that precedes sleep; not quite waking, not quite asleep. It was a different sound that roused me from the threshold of sleep. Something moved in the hallway beyond my door. It was just one short, sharp complaint from the floorboards. Otto? He had told me not to worry if I heard him prowling the halls. That was like telling a chicken not to worry if the fox came to visit the coop.