Murder at Locke Abbey (12 page)

“No!” She dropped both handkerchiefs on the floor and clutched his hands. “
You have not upset me. I can't explain why I feel tearful, it is quite illogical but my tears do not reflect unhappiness, I assure you.”

He freed a hand and reached up to cup her face, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.

“I’d like to try an experiment, if you are willing,” Cole said softly.

“Oh?”

“Yes. You see, touching you makes me feel some very pleasurable sensations and I have a suspicion that kissing you would increase those agreeable feelings exponentially.”

“That is an interesting hypothesis, Sir, and I agree, one that needs testing.”

She had moved closer to him as she spoke, and he to her so that now, only inches separated them. He breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of her perfume or hair tonic, which contained notes of vanilla, sandalwood, cinnamon and perhaps sweet hay, certainly something that reminded him of the outdoors and sunshine, without being floral. It was a bold scent, not something he would usually associate with femininity but it was pleasurable nonetheless, and very befitting for her personality.

He almost wanted not to kiss her. Standing here, anticipating their first kiss, was a
delightful feeling, one he wanted to draw as much pleasure from as possible. Unfortunately, he thought that kissing her might surpass this sensation, and his will to resist her was rapidly weakening.

With barely an inch separating them, she closed her eyes, her long black lashes casting an even longer shadow over her cheeks. As her lips parted, his will left him and he pressed his lips against hers, gently, testing his reception and her reaction.

Her lips were as soft as silk and she tasted vaguely of red wine. He was content to remain as they were for a while, exchanging soft kisses and drawing as much pleasure from the encounter as he could. Thea evidently had other ideas though, and she deepened the kiss, parting his lips with her tongue.

He wondered if he was taking advantage of her innocence but he could not stop her, nor could he end this kiss. Instead the hand on her cheek moved behind her neck and his other hand snaked around her waist, his hand in the small of her back,
holding her to him. Her hands had wound themselves around his waist and her hands moved over the planes of his back.

He had felt attraction towards a few women in his time, he had even kissed a handful of them but none had made him feel as he did now; both like a young child on their bir
thday, bursting with excitement, and like an addict, receiving their first taste of opium for although he was not addicted to her, he already knew that he would be eager to savour her charms time and again.

It seemed
as though time had stood still and when the kiss ended naturally, both of them overwhelmed by the depth of the emotions they were feeling and needing a respite, they remained in an embrace, their foreheads touching.

“I feel quite breathless,” she said, her voice soft but deepened by desire.

“And I,” he agreed. 

“I would say we have validated your hypothesis.”

He couldn’t be certain, but he believed she was teasing him and played along. “Indeed, the results of this experiment have far exceeded my expectations.”

“And mine.” A sly smile curved the edges of her lips upwards. “Of course, one experiment is not enough to prove a theory.”

“Oh?”

“No, an experiment must be repeated often with the same results before it is proved and if possible, under a variety of circumstances, just in case external factors are influencing it.”

“Well, your understanding of science is far superior to mine, of course, so I must defer to your judgement in this matter.”

Her smile widened. “Are you suitably recovered to try again?”

“I believe I am.” His smile matched hers until to his surprise, she removed her hands from his back. She didn’t move away however, and her intent became clear as she opened the buttons on his tail coat, slipping her hands below the garment as she took a hold of him again.

Part of him wished that she hadn’t provided
the additional temptation, while another part of him wished that she had continued, and opened his waistcoat also.

This time, she kissed him, rising up on her toes to press her lips to his. This kis
s held more urgency than the first, not less as he expected, and he idly wondered how he would be able to behave like a gentleman while in public with her.

Passion rose i
n his loins and threatened to overwhelm him. He also had a feeling that she would not stop him either, since she appeared to be as affected as he was. That thought, the idea of disgracing her, sobered him enough to end the kiss, although he did not release her until the dog began to bark, drawing their attention to the footsteps which were approaching the door and even then, it was with reluctance.

A knock sounded on the door and after a moment to ste
p away and rebutton his coat, Cole called for them to enter. Thea had retrieved the blood stained handkerchief from the floor and held it close to the oil lamp once more.

“Ah, there you are,” Copley said as he entered the room. If he noticed anything amiss in his host and rather flushed looking daughter, he did not query it. “How goes it in here?”

“Your daughter was just trying to convince me that the blood Madam Davina shed was not real,” Cole explained.

“And yet you sound unconvinced. Really Thea, I expected better from you.”

Thea turned to look at him. “Honestly
, Father, I can only work with what I am given and when I am given a stubborn gentleman, I can hardly be expected to work miracles.” She returned her attention to the handkerchief but spared Cole a quick glance and playful wink.

Cole had wondered if Thea would take her father’s insult to heart, since
subtlety often seemed to elude her. Now he realised that father and daughter were used to teasing and even if she couldn’t read most people’s social cues, she evidently knew her father well enough to judge his behaviour correctly.

The realisation pleased him
, since the idea of a humourless marriage, no matter how passionate, wasn’t a welcome thought.

“Oh dear,
” Lord Copley lamented. “And I did have such high hopes for Master Cole.”

“Fear not,” Thea explained. “He is stubborn, but not all together untrainable.”

“Speaking of untrainable, I see Mrs Cole’s dog is in here with you,” Copley said as he sat down. “She made something of a scene when it could not be immediately found.”

Copley joined him, sitting in the chair opposite.

“You will get me into trouble,” Thea wagged a finger at the dog. “But I may still redeem myself in Papa’s eyes.”

“You have proof?” Cole asked as she approached.

“Yes, I believe I do. Hold your hand up.” She took a seat beside him and pulled his hand onto her lap. Then she rubbed the blood stained part of the handkerchief over his index finger.

“Rub your thumb and forefinger together.”
She imitated the movement and he copied her. “What do you notice?” she asked.

“Nothing untoward.”

“Does your fingertip not feel greasy?”

He frowned as he considered it. To check if the sensation was normal, he rubbed the thumb and finger of his other hand together, noting that when he applied pressure, the tips did not move at all as freely as his other hand.

“Yes, they do.”

“Blood is not oily
,” she explained. “Even supposing it was, the blood should be try by now, while this stain is wet.”

Copley leaned forward and held his hand out. “May I?”

Thea gave him the cloth and he checked her findings for himself. When he was done, he brought his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply.

“What do you think it is made from?” Copley asked.

“A thin oil, possibly lamp or olive oil. I can detect a faint trace of rotten egg in the handkerchief, so I would think that the oil has been mixed with Cinnabar, also known as mercury sulphide. It’s the material often used to make vermillion oil paints.”

“How freely available is this Cinnabar?” Cole asked.

“Many artists prefer to mix their own paints, so the pigment powder is freely available.”

“Then the question now is, how did she place the oil on her face when both her hands were being held?”

“I’m sure the answer to that is simple,” Thea explained. “All the best conjuring tricks are, once you can figure them out.”

The grandfather clock in the entrance hall chimed 1am.

“I did not realise it was so late,” Thea sounded shocked.

“Yes, most of the ladies have retired to the
ir beds now, claiming fatigue from the evening’s events,” Copley explained. “Their husbands are now joining them.”

“We should retire also,” Thea said
.

They got to their feet.

“I will see you at breakfast, Mr Cole,” Lord Copley said.

“Indeed.”

Copley nodded to his daughter and left the room. Thea and Cole followed but at a much slower pace.

“
I want to thank you, Sir, for being honest with me.”

“Honest?”

“About your feelings. You are not the first gentleman to show an interest in me, but you are the first to be honest about the extent of your feelings and not mislead me as to the depth of your affection. You have also not patronised me by uttering false platitudes designed to flatter me. In a world that consistently undermines and ridicules me, to find someone who has faith in my judgement is very welcome indeed.”

Cole smiled.
“You are not upset by my kissing you?”

“Not at all, I rather enjoyed it.”

“You ‘
rather enjoyed it
’?” he asked, as though she had offended him.

“I was attempting to be circumspect,” she seemed upset to have slighted his character, even unintentionally.

“Thankfully, a good kissing technique is teachable and since I obviously need help to become proficient, I would recommend daily lessons. Do you know of any good teachers?”

A slow smile spread a
cross her lips as he spoke and she realised that he had been jesting.

“I might know a teacher who would be willing.
She is inexperienced but enthusiastic.”

“Then please pass on my intent to become the best kisser in England, and my eagerness to learn.”

They had reached the landing that separated their rooms. The door to the Copley’s suite was slightly ajar but they had privacy.

“Is now too soon?” Thea asked as she turned to face him.

“I believe I have a few minutes to spare.”

Thea wasted no time in claiming a kiss and Cole realised that he would now have a very
restless night ahead of him.

***

Thea couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was because Madam Davina was such a skilled actress, or possibly Thea’s inability to explain the evening’s events but either way, her mind was turning every creak and groan in the Abbey into something ominous. Some sounds she was unable to recognise and as such, her mind filled in the blanks with images from ghost stories and fairy tales. She pictured chains being dragged by ghosts, witches cackling and The Mummy or Frankenstein’s Monster shambling around.

She became angry with her inability to reason herself out of these nightmare images and as her annoyance grew, she recalled her earlier grievance,
the insensitivity of the medium in using Cole’s grief at the loss of his mother to bolster her lies.

It was difficult for
Thea to shut her brain off and sleep at the best of times and she had sleeping draughts for such occasions, but they always left her feeling sluggish the following morning, so she very rarely used them.

After an hour of lying awake, she got out of bed, deciding
that she may as well be productive with this time.

Since the fires
were burning low, she pulled a dressing gown on over her nightgown to ward off a chill, then made her way into the sitting room. She sat on the floor by the low centre table and tried to imagine she had people sitting either side of her. It was hard to picture without people to help her, so she fetched two of her morning dresses and laid them out so their arms were on the coffee table. She arranged them so they appeared to be holding hands, then placed the right hand sleeve on her right wrist, and then took a hold of the forearm of the sleeve to her left.

She removed her hands from the circle, then re-joined it, repeating the exercise a few times. The fifth time, as she used her left hand to place the sleeve on
the right side over her wrist. She paused for a moment as a thought occurred to her.

“Of course!”

Well, that was one mystery solved.

She laid the dresses over a chair so they wouldn’t crease too badly, then fetched her purse of coins.

Thea knew a few sleight of hand tricks, mostly involving coins and cards, since they were small and easily concealed. None of those tricks worked exactly the same way as the medium’s had, but she tried applying the same principles.

One principle was distraction. While making a show of placing a coin in a fist, it had actually been palmed in the other hand, or stuck to some petroleum jelly that had been placed on an unseen area of the hand.

Another easy method for making something disappear, was to have a thread or string sewn into a garment, going up one arm and across the shoulders. A hook or similar was placed on the end of the thread that could be attached to an object. A shrug, a stretch or a theatrical gesture, caused the object to be pulled into a sleeve, out of sight (the theatrical gesture often serving not only to elongate the arms, but also distract the audience from noticing that something had been pulled into the sleeve).

That wouldn’t work with coins however, as there was nothing to pass a hook through, nor was it easy to make something stick to a coin. If the coins had belonged to the magician, they would sometimes coat iron coins in silver, then use a magnet to manoeuvre the object (often levitate or otherwise ‘move with the mind’).

She was certain that Cole’s coins had been genuine however.

She recreated the trick, balancing a shilling on two fingers and a thumb, then asked herself, where could that coin go?

The only viable option was a sleeve. She tried tipping her hand slightly as she clicked the fingers of her free hand, trying to drop the coin into the sleeve of her night gown. The sleeves of her dressing gown were larger than a normal dress, which should have made it easier to drop a coin in to a sleeve, but the coin often missed, or slid from the fingers too slowly to be unnoticed by others.

She recreated the trick again and studied the position of everything once more.

Why the click of the fingers, she wondered? Especially, why so close to the coin? If distraction was the objective of the gesture, it made more sense to raise the other hand up high, drawing gazes away from the coin.

So the click
must a part of the trick. Then she saw it; the finger of her left hand, the one that would spring back in the clicking action, was in line with her other sleeve, the coin neatly positioned in the middle of the straight line.

It took a few attempts before she hit the shilling with the right force and aim to propel the coin sideways, into her other sleeve.

She continued practicing, intending to become as good at it as the psychic was.

***

Cole couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Thea, felt her lips on his again and felt her body pressed into his. He imagined her scent filled his nose again and his body reacted accordingly. He tried to relieve himself but it didn’t seem to help so at a little after three o’clock, he decided to take a walk and get rid of some nervous energy.

He didn’t bother dressing as h
e only intended to walk around the house, which was sleeping.

The moment he entered the hallway though, he saw faint light coming from under the door to the Copley’s sitting room.

He approached with trepidation and pressed an ear to the door. He could hear the soft noise of fingers clicking occasionally, but that was all. He gently tapped on the door and a few moments later, Thea opened it, her robe clutched around her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, worried.

“No, no, everything is fine. I was unable to sleep and thought I would take a walk around the Abbey. When I saw you still had a lamp burning, I wondered if you were all right.”

“That’s my excuse also, except for the walk.”

“I’ll leave you be then.” He made to turn away but Thea stopped him.

“Actually, there was something that I wanted to ask you.
”

“Yes?” he hoped he didn’t sound as eager as he felt. He didn’t expect her to invite him into her bed and even if she had,
he would have refused her (or he liked to think he would) but he would take any excuse to remain in her presence.

“Do you have any slates such as the ones Madam Davina used? Perhaps in a school room?”

“I believe we do. I’ll fetch one for you now.”

“I’ll come with you, if I may.”

He gestured for her to step into the hallway, then they walked along the hall together. He wanted to kiss her. He didn’t because he didn’t trust himself to know when to stop.

She kept giving him sidelong
glances and each time he caught her eye, she blushed. He took that as a sign that she felt the same way.

The school rooms were in the north wing of the house and there was a pile of slates stacked on a shelf.

“Did you teach the village in here?” she teased.

“No but I have so many sisters, that sometimes it felt
as if we were educating a village.”

Thea picked a board up and examined it. It was very simila
r to the ones the psychic used; a piece of slate, perhaps nine inches by six and framed in wood, because of the rough edges and the risk of the slate splitting. No ideas occurred to her but she hadn’t expected to find a resolution in one glance.