Suddenly I heard footsteps. I panicked, but it was useless to hide. I was trapped and about to be discovered, nothing for it but to make a bold appearance.
When I opened the door, I don’t know who was most scared, Edgar and Beatrice, or me. The big dog was at their side.
‘I do apologise—’ I began but I got no further.
‘What on earth are you doing here? You are trespassing, that’s why we have a guard dog.’ She gave him a bewildered look. ‘Boxer, Boxer! Really!’ she said reproachfully but he ignored her, staring at the ground.
Edgar said: ‘He is very savage, that’s why we warn people. We have to keep him chained up when we have tourists.’
Beatrice was staring at me, and she cut in: ‘How on earth did you get past him?’ A pause. ‘Mrs … Mrs Macmerry, isn’t it?’
‘Indeed yes, and I’m terribly sorry. Research, you know. I so wanted to meet you again and learn something of the history of Vantry. I was just looking at your museum …’ Embarrassed, I trailed into silence.
Beatrice was clutching a basket of flowers and wearing gardening gloves. She gave me a shocked glance while Edgar stood at her side, wide-eyed, biting his lip and speechless. She took his arm and looked me over: ‘Ah, the authoress?’
I nodded and took refuge in the lie. ‘Yes, indeed. I knocked at the front door, and then I came round the back. The door was open so I thought someone must be at home …’ I gabbled on, all the while realising how dreadful and improbable it sounded. A pause for breath with an attempt at an apologetic smile. ‘Oh dear, I am so sorry to have come at such an inconvenient time.’
Beatrice was watching me, listening with a look that clearly said she didn’t believe a word of it. Indicating the basket, she said: ‘We were in the garden. You would have found us there,’ she added accusingly. ‘We are not prepared for visitors just now.’
‘Perhaps some other day?’ I added weakly but hopefully.
Beatrice nodded vigorously. She exchanged a glance with Edgar. They had both recovered. ‘You would be most welcome, for your research, Mrs Macmerry, but not today,’ she added firmly. ‘Today is most inconvenient.’
‘Of course, of course. You are most kind,’ and as I prepared to depart, she added: ‘We are at home most afternoons.’
I hoped my smile was grateful enough. ‘Perhaps I could have a word with Lady Vantry next time, you know – the history of the family and that sort of thing.’
Beatrice nodded. ‘I’m sure that can be arranged. She rarely leaves the house these days but like all old people, she enjoys the occasional visitor.’
A pause and then from Edgar: ‘The bicycle? Is it yours?’
I nodded. ‘My favoured form of transport, very useful in Edinburgh. I hired this one in Rothesay.’
Edgar nodded. ‘The hills must be something of a trial. Even to walk,’ and he gave the nearest he could manage to a sympathetic smile. ‘Perhaps tomorrow for your visit?’ A quick look at Beatrice. ‘Are we doing anything?’
A shake of the head.
I was hovering near the back door, preparing to depart as quickly as possible. Edgar followed me, making certain that I left. Boxer joined him, sat down and sighed in dog-like weariness. I found it unbelievable that this could be a fierce guard dog. The gardener-cum-tour guide Angus had also appeared on the scene and was subjecting the parked bicycle to a thoughtful glance.
He looked at me. ‘I remember you,’ he said accusingly. And to Edgar: ‘She was on the tour the other day.’
I managed a smile. ‘Yes, and most enjoyable it was,’ I added patronisingly. ‘You did it so splendidly.’ As I was extolling the tour’s virtues as well as giving a kindly mention to the rather deplorable cream scones, Beatrice had disappeared. I heard a loud bell ring, one of those on the kitchen wall summoning servants. She reappeared, looking flustered.
‘That was Aunty. She’s awake now and waiting for her tea.’
All three watched me as I mounted the bicycle and rode away. I had an odd feeling they were making sure that I left.
Where the gravel forefront joined the rhododendron drive, I turned and looked back at the upstairs window that Angus had said was Lady Vantry’s room. But no face watched me, no curtain twitched from that great window.
I was now feeling embarrassed and chastened by my illicit visit, for although I could have sworn the house was empty, I had been wrong and I decided that her ladyship must sleep very deeply or be very deaf not to have heard me calling. However, I was glad indeed that I had not ventured beyond the ground floor and shuddered at my narrow escape from an outraged encounter with the reclusive Lady Vantry or a savage attack from Boxer, who for a fierce and dangerous guard dog had been remarkably friendly.
I remembered the evening I was exploring Rothesay and the odd behaviour of the dogs I had met. All dogs behaved like that when they met Thane.
I shook my head. I refused to even try to work that one out.
Anyway, I had tomorrow afternoon to look forward to another visit to Vantry, by invitation this time, a legitimate visit.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Aware that Jack might be on the telephone at any time, I thought it wise to stay in the vicinity of the hotel. My ride back from Vantry had been cold and windy, but thankfully the wind was behind me on that steep hill back towards St Colmac and I was grateful for good brakes. On the way I had a fit of sneezing, but searching for a missing handkerchief, I remembered the gunroom at Vantry and hoped I had not dropped it there.
As I sat by the hotel’s cheerful log fire, with a pot of tea delivered by one of the immaculate but silent servants, the rain clouds moved in again. It was not a good day for exploring, although there were several places I was tempted to visit, especially the High Kirk and the picturesque ruin of Rothesay Castle.
My visit to Miss Boyd would have to wait until later and a warm seat in a comfortable armchair fulfilled my immediate needs, the continued reading of Bute’s history a pleasant companion. What did a few hours matter, even if the ferries were running again tomorrow, as Harry had now predicted, I was a prisoner, even a welcome prisoner, until Sadie had fully recovered.
Dr Wills came to where I was sitting. Having seen Sadie again he believed there was a slight improvement. ‘At least she is no worse,’ and I felt his words were merely to comfort when he added: ‘I gather from Harry that this is all very inconvenient for you, but by next week she should be fit enough to travel back to Edinburgh.’
He smiled. ‘Meanwhile, I dare say you will find plenty to keep you occupied.’
And glancing down at my reading matter, he added: ‘Perhaps you will get inspiration for a new book.’
For a moment I wondered what he was talking about and then the authoress kicked in. I smiled and said: ‘Maybe you are right.’ And I had a sudden idea: ‘There is so much in Bute for a visitor to enjoy, and as a matter of fact, a friend of mine asked me to look up an old acquaintance from Kilchattan, a Miss Ellen Boyd, who I gather is now in a home here in Rothesay.’ When I gave him the name that Mrs Forsyth had supplied, he frowned and looked at me sharply.
‘Chanonry is not a nursing home, Miss Macmerry. I think I should warn you it is an asylum.’
‘Asylum?’
‘Yes, for the insane. The inmates, or patients as they prefer to be called, can be quite violent and we do not encourage visitors, except, of course, near relatives.’
A hard look making it clear that I fell into the former category, he went on: ‘I take it that some time has elapsed since this lady you know saw Miss Boyd?’
‘I haven’t any idea, but I was given to understand that Miss Boyd was suffering from depression after the death of her sister.’
Dr Wills snapped his fingers. ‘Ah, now I remember. That’s Miss Ellen Boyd. Of course, it was a tragedy. They had been servants at Vantry …’ and I was hearing again the story Mrs Forsyth had told me about Mavis Boyd’s devotion to Lady Adeline and the tragic consequences of her visit.
He shook his head sadly. ‘Su
ch an appalling thing to happen. According to Mr Worth, her ladyship was delighted to see her old servant again. They were having a cup of tea together, sister Ellen was outside looking at the flower beds with the gardener. She had been promised some plants to take back to their garden at Kilchattan when they heard shouts and ran inside.’
He paused and raised his eyes skyward. ‘What a scene. Her ladyship and Edgar were bending over Mavis who was lying on the floor, still clutching the cup of tea. They were horrified, said there was no warning, she had just suddenly reeled over and collapsed. When she saw Ellen she tried to speak to her, but it was too late. Her ladyship was terribly distressed, as you can imagine, and so were the Worths.’
He sighed. ‘I was sent for immediately, but I was away in Glasgow at my son’s wedding at the time and our locum signed the death certificate and gave Miss Ellen a sedative. I got the whole story from him. Poor Ellen had fainted clean away and was sent home in the Vantry carriage where it was hoped their kind neighbours would look after her.’
He sighed again. ‘A heart attack, I’ve seen it so often. Alive and kicking, laughing and not a care in the world one moment, and the next – dead and gone. When I got back, the funeral was over and I thought I would go out and see Ellen, give her my condolences, but it was obvious that she was in a very bad way. I’ve heard of people going mad with grief, mostly in grand opera, but I never expected to see it in real life. Well, here it was, Ellen was already way beyond the normal emotions of a bereaved sibling, maintaining that Mavis had never had a day’s illness in her whole life and that she hadn’t just collapsed and died. She had been murdered.’
He smiled wryly. ‘Of course, it was ridiculous. Those caring, friendly neighbours had done everything they could to console and reassure her but they couldn’t deal with this kind of situation. It seemed that even before the funeral she was back at the police station here, demanding that they make enquiries and find out who killed her sister Mavis. All very sad but she started making such a nuisance of herself, going out to Vantry as well and threatening Edgar, that with no one to restrain her or to take care of her, I was consulted and we decided that she should go into a home. They tried the regular nursing home at St Colmac, but that didn’t restrict her. It was too near Vantry and as she made life hell for everyone, it was realised that she would have to go to the asylum.’
‘When did all this happen, Doctor?’
‘Just after her ladyship’s accident, four years ago. She had been visiting friends near Glasgow for a local horse show. She was an excellent rider, but unfortunately this animal from her friends’ stable was still rather wild. It threw her, her left leg was injured in the fall, she still walks with a limp, but worst of all, her face hit a tree and she was badly scarred.’
He thought for a moment. ‘Perhaps it was seeing her former employer, who was a great beauty in her day, so changed that gave Miss Boyd a heart attack. She was devoted to her ladyship and must have been terribly shocked.’
He stood up, looked at the clock and smiled. ‘Off for a game of golf,’ he said cheerfully. This was his weekly relaxation when patients and influenza spared him. He had left me with some interesting thoughts. Four years ago would be 1902 and this accident must have happened very soon after Lady Adeline was at King Edward’s coronation, her robes now in the Vantry gunroom museum.
Despite the doctor’s warning, I was determined to see Miss Ellen Boyd, who I was almost certain had been wrongly incarcerated in an asylum for what should have been normal grief at losing a beloved sister. She already had my sympathy and my keenness to hear her story, as I had listened to so many other strange cases from people wrongly accused and desperately needing help in my years as a lady investigator.
Believing that her sister had been murdered was what really intrigued me. Such suspicions were often why clients came to me and in most cases, I was well-equipped to solving. Here was a problem, perhaps more than a problem, and any mystery was an irresistible challenge.
I had been faced with a similar situation regarding Sadie’s problem, basically stemming from the same root of mismanagement, and again I had no idea where to begin. However, if I could sort it out, find a solution and prove that this poor unfortunate woman was not mad, the reward would be in restoring her to a normal life again outside the asylum’s walls.
Laying aside the history of Bute, it suddenly struck me as rather odd that I had been brought to the island to solve one woman’s innocence and perhaps destiny had decided that I was to remain to discover another mystery to be solved, another woman’s apparently mad behaviour, and at the back of both stories hovered the sinister shadow of Vantry.
I sighed, aware that again time was not on my side as I recognised the folly of this particular challenge, a mere few days in which to prove Ellen Boyd’s accusations were not merely the wild derangements of a disordered mind but had a firm link in reality. But how on earth did I start to prove that her accusations were justified and that her sister had indeed been murdered?
And as always, bearing in mind the motive: what possible reason could Edgar Worth have for murdering his aunt’s former servant? And by what means? The only obvious one was poison, but this never occurred to a visiting locum, who had diagnosed the cause of death as heart failure. The inescapable question remained: what had Edgar Worth to gain?
Hospitals, and I presumed asylums, had regular visiting hours and much to my disappointment my desire to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak, with Dr Wills’ revelations still churning over in my mind, was thwarted as there were none available until tomorrow.
I had a word with Harry, explained to him about Miss Boyd and the imaginary Edinburgh friend. He looked faintly alarmed at my idea of visiting Chanonry House Asylum, but I assured him that this was just a sick old lady who wasn’t likely to fall upon me with violence. I owed it to my friend, I said, and as they had been close, perhaps someone thinking of her would give her a little stability.
He sounded doubtful but he smiled. ‘You are good to your friends, they are lucky to have you.’ He sighed deeply. ‘There’s Sadie, what would she have done without you at this time?’ I was unable to answer that as Gerald signalled from the office that someone was waiting to see him. Leaving apologetically, he called:
‘Look, I’ll go with you – to the asylum, tomorrow, just in case.’
I declined with thanks. Here I thought was another person whose friends were lucky to have him.
At last, after hours of waiting, Harry said excitedly. ‘Your husband is waiting to speak to you, Mrs Macmerry.’
I ran into the reception office, sat down and suddenly across the miles of sea and land, from the far distant Border country, I was hearing Jack’s voice in a panic – unusual for him – asking: ‘What on earth has happened, love? Are you all right?’
‘Yes. I’m fine, but Sadie’s not well.’
A querulous voice at his side, his patient response. ‘Yes, Meg, Mam’s all right – you can speak to her in a minute.’ Then to me: ‘I thought it was just this damned weather, we’ve got some of it here. Pretty stormy and I thought about those ferries. They always get cancelled …’
‘You’re right about that, but there’s another problem, Jack. Sadie has apparently gone down with influenza and the doctor tells me it might be at least a week until she can leave her bed and travel back to Edinburgh.’
I heard his deep sigh, perhaps more of exasperation and inconvenience than mere sympathy, as I said: ‘The thing is, Jack, I must stay with her, surely you realise that? I can’t leave her to make that journey back alone, if she isn’t up to it. I’d never forgive myself—’
He interrupted: ‘Of course not, of course not, love. I understand. Oh, poor Sadie – and poor you. How awful. This is a miserable state of affairs. You must stay. It is a damned nuisance but we can cope, meantime. You being absent will be all right for Meg and me – and Thane. But as you know this is Pa’s retirement holiday. They have been looking forward to it for months now. The chance f
or Ma to see Edinburgh and stay in the Tower.’ He sighed again. ‘They will be so disappointed, you not being there. Let’s hope the delay is just a day or two—’
An urgent whisper at his side. ‘Yes, Meg, of course you can.’
A shuffle as the instrument was handed over. Meg’s shrill: ‘Mam, is that really you?’ An excited laugh. ‘Wonderful to talk to you and you so far away. I can’t believe it. Like magic, isn’t it? You sound as if you’re just next door. As if I could look out of the door and see you.’
Suddenly, just hearing her voice made the tears well. ‘Oh darling, it is so good to hear you. Have you been having a lovely time?’
‘Oh yes. I’ve been riding a pony too. And Thane has loved being here. Does Sadie being ill mean you aren’t coming back right now, after all?’ She had been listening to the conversation. A wail: ‘Oh, Mam, I miss you awfully.’ She sounded tearful now. ‘Please – please come – soon.’
A buzz on the line indicated that our time was up. Jack’s voice, urgent. ‘I’ll call you again, have the hotel’s number. Bye, love.’
A voice choked with tears: ‘Oh, bye, Mam!’
They were gone. And I had never even asked about the Macmerry’s golden wedding party. I felt ready to cry too, like Meg. That wasn’t like me at all. So marvellous and really quite emotional hearing their disembodied voices across all that distance, separated from them by hundreds of miles of sea and land. At least they would be well looked after by Jess Macmerry, but the thought of her going through my untidy cupboards and finding dusty corners, spiders and perhaps even mice, as well as other signs of neglect that even Sadie had not noticed! I would never live this down. I could almost hear those sighs of resignation.
I looked in on Sadie before I went to bed. She opened her eyes, gave me a weak smile and groaned, tried to ask me something, but was interrupted by a bout of coughing. No, there wasn’t anything I could bring her. Harry was so good …
There our conversation ended. Feeling miserable and disorientated, I prepared for bed. Talking to Jack and Meg on the telephone had made me miss them terribly, and on top of that I was plagued with uneasy thoughts about their return home without me, as well as our domestic life in Solomon’s Tower being subjected to my mother-in-law’s sharp eyes. Then there was Meg’s preparation for school and the special things she liked, a piece of chocolate at bedtime before she cleaned her teeth. I was sure that indulgence would be frowned upon.
Murder Lies Waiting Page 14
