The Shadowcutter (22 page)

“An odd choice of weapon.”

“Certainly,” said Giles. “But murder is usually odd, even when it seems straightforward.”

“Which this is not.”

“No. And we must ask ourselves, how is this related to Eliza Jones?”

“I am surprised you say that,” said Felix, turning his attention to the pattern of bruising. “You have warned me previously about making false associations between events.”

“Yes, but the questions must be asked, if only to discard them. I don’t know of any link between them – yet.”

“But you think there might be? She was dead before he got here. How can there be?”

“There may be nothing. But at this point we cannot say. We know next to nothing about this man. We may uncover an interesting connection or a mere coincidence.”

“I hope for the sake of Lord Rothborough and the ladies, it is the former. I can’t think it is pleasant to find one’s home overrun with random violence. They will want a reason for all this. Insofar as there is ever reason in these things.”

“We shall do our best to find one. Why else do you think I sent for you? I should be fairly in the dark without you. Although Lady Charlotte and Mrs Connolly have been very able assistants, they don’t quite have your expertise.”

“Mrs Connolly?” Felix said.

“She has been invaluable. She unravelled a great mystery. She is quite a fund of brilliance – and she confirms my feeling that Eliza Jones was responsible for the theft of the jewels.”

“And you think her murder is connected with that?”

“It’s possible, but it is difficult to be any more precise than that. She must have had a fence – and Syme says there was another man. I can’t help but conflate the two, although that may be erroneous. But she was a thief, and she may be been tempted to take a greater risk for a greater reward: money and a husband. Starting a family enterprise, perhaps with a lover, as Mrs Connolly suggests, who might be the father of her child.”

“So we need to find the fence,” said Felix.

“Yes,” said Major Vernon, frowning at the corpse. “Not an easy task. And the interesting thing is that I saw this fellow last night, squiring a pair of sylphs at a dog fight. He was talking to one of those gentlemen from Santa Magdalena. I couldn’t tell if was merely accidental or there was a purpose to their being there together. Whatever it is, it intrigues me.”

“What did the gentleman look like?”

“Broad-shouldered and fair-haired. Very striking fellow, but discreetly dressed. I saw him the other day at the Bower Well – which was why I recognised him. There he had very much the air of the Pater Famillias, less so last night. Have you got a name for me?”

“It sounds like Don Luiz Ramirez. He doesn’t look like a Spaniard, or at least how one might expect one to look. Fair hair and burly. But we only buried Don Xavier yesterday afternoon and he was all piety and grief then. Would he go to a dog fight that evening? Perhaps you were mistaken.”

“Perhaps.”

“But then again,” said Felix, thinking of Dona Blanca thrusting the document case into his hands and swearing him to silence. “Who knows what those people are about. There is something strange going on there, certainly.”

“I shall go and talk to him about Mr Edgar. It is an avenue to be looked at. But first we must question the household here. I have already started Holt on the menservants. I shall go and see what he has uncovered.”

He left Felix to continue his investigations. He had not begun to make much progress before there was a knock at the door. Felix opened it a crack, looked out and found himself grinning, not at all annoyed to be interrupted.

For it was Sukey standing in the passageway, looking neat and crisp in a print dress, as fresh as a newly-picked rose.

“I’m looking for Major Vernon,” she said.

He came out of the room and shut the door behind him.

“He’s already gone.”

He wanted to say, “
I’d hoped you might have been looking for me
.”

“You have the poor fellow in there?”

“Yes. He’s in quite a state.”

“Poor man,” she said.

He nodded. He could not think what to say. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but standing there in his shirt sleeves, covered in blood and dust, it was not possible. Instead they were reduced to awkward silence. He had once been so easy in her presence, as if they had been strolling across a broad, sunlight plain, but now it was as if they were on a precarious mountain path. Every step had to be carefully considered – a single misstep might lead to disaster. A word out of place and all be could be ruined. If it is not already ruined, he thought.
If I only I had not kissed her, if only I had left it where it was. Of course I have ruined everything between us.

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Major Vernon? The servants hall, I think.”

She nodded.

“I’ll go and have a look,” and without another word she departed back down the passageway, as if she were glad indeed to get away. What had he done? He was about to shout out “Sukey!” but the sight of Lord Rothborough turning the corner silenced him. Sukey stopped, made a low curtsey and carried on her way.

Felix had the feeling that attempting to capture her was like the childhood game of catching a dandelion seed and making a wish. It was hard enough to catch one, and if one did, the wish never came true. Was that to be the case with Sukey?

“A smart creature, that,” said Lord Rothborough. “Major Vernon seems very taken with her – which does not surprise me in the least.”

“What do you mean by that?” said Felix.

“Nothing,” said Lord Rothborough. “You look tired, my boy.”

“I am. I did not sleep last night. I have unexpected guests.”

“What?”

“My parents are here – well, they are at Stanegate. My mother is in somewhat of a state and I do not know what to do about it.”

“She’s ill? Oh dear Lord.”

“Yes. I was in two minds about coming here, to tell you the truth, although she claims there is nothing wrong with her, it is evident –” He broke off. “They should not have travelled! What on earth possessed them to do it?”

Lord Rothborough laid his hand on Felix’s shoulder and said, “Send them to Ardenthwaite. You will be able to better supervise her from there, and the air there is much healthier than Stanegate. You will need to be close at hand while we sort out this wretched business. Where could be better? It is perfectly habitable, and the housekeeper there can easily take on a few more servants. I will arrange it all.”

“But – but, my father will not – I think, you know as well as I that he –”

“If Mrs Carswell is ill then he will be glad to fall in with what is best for her. Besides Ardenthwaite will be far more to his taste. There is a fine library there to keep him occupied. He will be persuaded. I will persuade him.”

Felix had no doubt that he would. Neither could he disagree that it was a sound plan, even though it had implications that he disliked. He had been keeping Ardenthwaite at arm’s length. He had gone over the old house a couple of times now, in the company of Lord Rothborough, who had been making various small improvements, but had managed to remain detached from the place. But Lord Rothborough was right. It would suit his parents very well and it was an easy ride to Holbroke. He had met the housekeeper and she was a great deal more kind and willing than that impossible Bolland creature.

“So?” said Lord Rothborough.

“I suppose,” said Felix. “It is as good a plan as any.”

“I will see to it. In the meantime, I think you will have plenty to keep you from worrying too much about Mrs Carswell. Any progress?”

“A little. Major Vernon is talking to the menservants. How is Lady Rothborough, sir?” he said, remembering himself. “And your daughters – they must be distressed by all this.”

“Somewhat. But Charlotte is like you, Felix, made of steely stuff, and she has taken charge of the others. It is a marvel when one realises that one’s children are now old enough to share such burdens!”

“I ought to check on Mrs Vernon,” said Felix. “She is still somewhat fragile. If that might be managed without my giving any offence to Lady –”

“I dare say it might,” said Lord Rothborough. “Perhaps later. I believe she is with Maria at the moment. She is a charming woman, I must say. And to have brought her from such a grievous condition – well, Felix, you may count that as a great feather in your cap.”

“It was not all my doing. Mrs Connolly and Major Vernon, and Mrs Vernon herself – they have all worked very hard.”

“Yes, but you were the guiding hand, the chef d’affaires. You must not hold back your contribution from the world. It may unlock the door to great advances in your profession. You will publish, I trust?”

“In time, perhaps, if her condition does not deteriorate again. We are not out of the woods yet, by any means. And then of course, Major and Mrs Vernon might not like me to make it a great noise about it.”

“Major Vernon is a friend to reform,” said Lord Rothborough. “I cannot see that he would object if it were done discreetly. It would be of great interest to many people, not just the medical profession. For example, I know Lord Stambury has been looking at some of these questions. He wrote to me only the other day on the subject of the County Asylums Bill –”

“I must to get back to work,” Felix said bluntly, turning away.

“Yes, yes, I suppose you must,” said Lord Rothborough. “But Stambury, you must meet him, sooner or later, Felix, he could be useful to you. He likes his shooting, you know. We could have him here in the autumn, and you could let him have a few days with his guns at Ardenthwaite – that would be a pleasant treat for a sportsman.”

-0-

Giles found Holt sitting in the House Steward, Mr Grainger’s office, quite as if it were his own. He was interviewing one of the pages, a pale-faced boy of sixteen, who sat nervously fiddling with the buttons on his waistcoat. He jumped to attention when Giles came in.

“Just in time, sir,” said Holt, getting up. “Jacob here has something interesting for us. Tell the gentleman what you just told me – about the book.”

“But Mr Holt –” Jacob began, in some alarm.

“Come on, now lad,” said Holt.

“I didn’t make a bet, Mr Holt, I’m just saying,” Jacob said. “And they’ll kill me if they find out that I told you.”

“We will make sure they don’t,” said Giles, taking Holt’s place. “Sit down again, won’t you? Are we talking about a betting book?”

Jacob nodded.

“Walter – that’s the first footman, my Lady’s footman, he has this book, and you can make a wager with him, or if you want to make a wager with someone else, he puts it in the book. I’ve never made a wager, sir, I swear it. I know it’s a sin to gamble, but the others do.”

“The others being?”

Jacob thought for a moment.

“Most of the lads, and even old Tom, the clock man does it. Some of the women too. There was a right daft bet last week about Mrs Hope’s Sunday bonnet – whether she’d have green or blue ribbons on it. I guessed blue and I almost wish I had put tuppence on it, because I’d have made myself something, ’cos I was right, like, but I know it’s a sin, and Mr Bodley and Mr Grainger, they would have given me a right thumping if they’d found out I’d done it.”

“I see,” said Giles. “So why did you mention the book to Mr Holt just now?”

“He asked me when I last saw Mr Edgar. I told him I saw him with Walter and he was taking bets for the dog fight and putting them in his book. Walter wanted to go, but he couldn’t, but I know Mr Edgar was going, ’cos I heard him say so.”

“Where?”

“I have to sweep the servants’ hall, and they were sitting there, having a smoke and talking about which dogs they reckoned would win. And Jimmy Watson, from out the stables, he was there too, and he said he wanted five shillings on Lunn’s dogs. And he gave the money to Walter, and he put it in the book. And I thought – five shillings: where did he get that from? That was the last time I saw Mr Edgar. I went to my bed after that.”

“That’s useful,” said Giles. “Thank you, Jacob. You can go back to your work now.”

“Are you going to talk to Walter about this now, sir?”

“Yes,” Giles said.

“He’ll kill me if he finds out that it were me that blabbed. That book, it’s supposed to be a secret.”

“Don’t worry, I shan’t identify our source,” said Giles. “Mr Holt will you go and get Walter for me?”

Walter was a magnificent specimen, picked, no doubt, for his fine physique as much as his character. He was dressed in his full chocolate and gold livery with a powdered wig, his tricorn hat tucked under his arm. He carried himself with great pride, and had all the hauteur of a privileged position, taking on as much reflected lustre as he could from his noble employers. Being Lady Rothborough’s personal manservant was clearly something he relished.

“I can’t be long,” he said. “Her Ladyship has ordered the carriage.”

“In the circumstances her Ladyship may have to wait, or take another footman, Mr Walter,” said Giles, getting up. “Sit down, will you?”

“As you like, sir. How may I help you, sir?” he said, correctly deferential, but a touch insolent.

Giles studied him. It was easy to imagine one of those large white-gloved hands cracking poor Jacob about the head, but such rough treatment of underlings was unfortunately commonplace. It did not make him a murderer.

“I want to talk to you about Mr Edgar,” said Giles. “I am sure that does not surprise you, given the circumstances.”

“Of course not, sir,” said Walter. “Very unfortunate.”

“I understand you were seen sitting in the servants hall with him last night, smoking and talking. Around ten o’clock at night.”

“That is possible,” said Walter. “I don’t remember.”

“You were seen talking together. Well, rather more than talking. Doing business, I understand.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“I think you are sporting man,” said Giles, “and that you run a betting book.”

“A betting book?” said Walter as if he had been insulted. “I should not dare, sir, not in a house like this, where her Ladyship particularly hates gambling.”

“Enough flannel, Mr Walter. You will get yourself into far more trouble for lying about it in these circumstances. Would you rather lose your place or go to the gallows?”