“Of the supposed riches involved,” Raven added. “This could turn out to be very dangerous if Tillie’s death is somehow connected to what she claimed to know.”
“You mean Fern could be next?” Merula glanced back at the church’s open door. “We should warn her.”
“I don’t think she needs to be warned. Our sudden entrance gave her more of a scare than is normal when you don’t expect company. I think she already knows she might be in danger now that Tillie is dead, but still she’s determined to keep the secret.”
“That would be very dangerous.” Merula wanted to expound further, but Raven pointed at one of the oak trees beside the church. “Look at that.”
The oak tree’s rough trunk had been covered by a poster depicting something dark blue with silver. But the paper had been ripped apart as if animal claws had raged over it, leaving but shreds, faded in sunlight or rain.
“I can just read a few letters,” Merula said, straining her eyes to make out something amid the damage. “Per and met. Do you think this was about the Perseid meteor shower you mentioned to me on our way over here? A public announcement of some kind?”
Raven looked doubtful. “In a small town like this? Then again, when Oaks last wrote to me, he did mention an invitation to come see the Perseids at a friend’s estate. Perhaps this friend is a man of science who wants to interest local people for the phenomenon. It doesn’t look, though, as if they can appreciate it. It has been destroyed.”
He held out his hand to the poster, his fingers spread wide. “This wasn’t done by a human hand either.”
Lamb gave a little shriek.
Raven shook his head at her. “A pitchfork, I meant to say. Not the claw of some monster.”
“Not taken down,” Merula mused, pointing at the pins that secured the paper to the tree trunk. “Anyone who didn’t like it could have removed the whole poster. But whoever did this damaged it and left it visible. Like a warning.”
“A warning? For whom?” Raven frowned.
“For other villagers. To stay away from it. Perhaps the mysterious wreckmaster did it? People seem to stand in awe of him.”
“And all of his associates.” Raven touched a shred of blue with his forefinger. “Good thing that this poster reminded me of it. We should go there. The meteor shower should be spectacular, a natural wonder, and perhaps we can also learn something useful for the case.”
“Why would you think so?”
Raven smiled at her. “Because now I recall what Oaks wrote to me, whose house this stargazing garden party is at. Gorse Manor. Bixby’s house.”
CHAPTER 8
That night Merula felt an odd sense of expectation as they left the house, all at their finest, as they had no idea what high-placed guests might be expected to attend the garden party. Raven had decided that Bowsprit had to stay with Oaks to ensure he didn’t wander off again and hurt himself. Lamb, however, accompanied them, wearing her deep-red costume again and smiling from ear to ear. Her downcast mood and fear of the strange surroundings had vanished like fog under morning sunshine.
Gorse Manor lay ten miles across the moorlands, which glowed in the evening sunshine. Every now and then, small pools of water lit up among the clumps of heather, and in the distance the hoarse call of the raven resounded as his majestic black figure soared against the bluish skies.
At crossroads, piles of stones had been placed, and at some there were flowers, as if villagers came here to commemorate something. Or perhaps it had been done by playing children? But where had the flowers come from? Merula wondered. They didn’t seem to grow on this land.
“There are some clouds, but they are thin and move fast,” Lamb observed. “We should be able to see the shooting stars. I’ve never seen them before.”
She scooted to the edge of the seat. “What kind of people are coming?”
“I have no idea,” Raven admitted. “Perhaps men of science? I’m surprised, though, that Bixby is interested in phenomena in the skies. He seemed like a very down-to-earth and practical man to me. Besides, he also mentioned his collection of books on mental abnormalities and the fact that specialists came to consult him on the subject. How many fields can one man cover?”
“Perhaps Bixby only agreed to have this meeting at his house to get to know people,” Merula suggested. “I think he likes to be influential, or at least believe himself to be so. The villagers listened to him when he appeared.”
“Yes, but at the same time, someone destroyed the poster announcing the meeting here tonight. If they are all so fond of him or in awe of him, why did that happen?”
Merula shrugged. “The wreckmaster and his local allies consider themselves the leaders of these villagers. What people did Webber name to us? Tinners and millers?”
Raven nodded. “They’ve dominated this area for ages. The tin mines and plants like Powder Mills provided people with work and wages. Then the railway arrived; outsiders like Bixby bought houses here and introduced new things. Perhaps Bixby’s influence on the villagers annoyed the wreckmaster and his cronies and they decided to damage the poster to show their disapproval.”
Ahead of them they could see another carriage going down the road. And even farther than that, there seemed to be fires burning, small pricks of bright orange light.
When they drew closer, Merula discerned that these lights were braziers put along the road. More and more appeared as they came closer to the house. It lay somewhat higher than the rest of the land and was surrounded by what had to be an artificially created wood of trees and shrubs. Perhaps it was even an arboretum, a collection of indigenous and exotic trees, brought here by an ardent botanist.
Their carriage halted in front of the house, and Bixby approached to welcome them. As soon as they had alighted and Raven shook their host’s hand, he explained in a soft voice, “You know full well we have been under attack from some villagers. Although we are not sure they might be here tonight, we would appreciate it if you would not announce our connection to Charles Oaks. Could you perhaps introduce us as guests from London? And Miss Merriweather here is my fiancée.”
Bixby hitched a brow. “In truth?”
Merula vividly remembered that he had last seen her in her dressing gown and flushed. “It’s just something we agreed on to be able to …” She glanced at Raven for help to smooth over this awkward moment.
Raven smiled at Bixby. “These country people are traditional and might not understand how a man and woman can travel together without being … attached. I don’t want to offend them or cause any form of aggression. I saw in the village that your poster was torn apart. With a pitchfork?”
Bixby pursed his lips. “I’m a man of science. Of the rational mind. I have no sensitivity to what people consider … beliefs. There have been one or two who have stated that the study of the heavens is not for mortal men. There also seems to be a connection between the Perseids and some saint whose name day is celebrated around this date. Calling the meteors mere bits of rock which fall from the skies is blasphemous to these people. But I can’t for the life of me describe them as saint’s tears.”
“There’s still a lot we don’t know and don’t understand about the universe.” Raven pulled Merula’s arm through his. “Now, where are we supposed to look at these meteors?”
Bixby gestured to the wooded area around. “In my gardens. I do own a telescope, but it’s of little use with the meteors moving quickly across the skies. You should take up positions in the gardens and let your gaze roam the skies to see the flashes. It’s no more than that, flashes, but at the height there are dozens of them in quick succession. There are braziers here and there to make sure you can find your way back to the house. Oh, and don’t be frightened by the animals. They don’t bite.”
“What animals?” Raven queried, but their host had already turned away from them to meet another carriage that came rattling up.
Lamb, who had stood beside them in silence, now grabbed Merula’s free arm. “What animals does he mean? Are t
hey dangerous? Is it even safe to be out here?”
Merula was sad to see how one teasing remark from a rather infuriating man had brought back Lamb’s fear like tidal wives rushing to the shore. “Just stay close to us,” Merula assured her. “It will be fine.”
Raven took them down the terrace to where a few other people stood talking. The men were well dressed and the ladies decked out in silk, satin, feathers, and pearls. They cast curious looks at Raven and Merula, quickly assessing their social station. In these rural surroundings the guests seemed less certain of whom they’d be spending the evening with than they would have been in London.
Relief was almost tangible when Raven introduced himself as Lord Raven Royston, a natural historian from London, and Merula as his fiancée who also had an interest in the nightly phenomena. “Especially if we can study them à la belle étoile.”
An elderly man with white hair and a short beard shook his hand amiably. “Morehead. Professor Morehead. Mathematician. You might be aware that there is a lot to be calculated about the skies?”
Raven acknowledged that there probably was, and Morehead launched into a long and difficult explanation about the distance between the earth and the moon.
Merula shifted her weight restlessly, spying around as far as she could without appearing too obviously bored with the subject. She used the first short silence to tell Raven she was getting herself some punch from the buffet and took Lamb with her, going through the wide open French doors into a room lit by a chandelier overhead. A sofa lay to the left along with some chairs with delicately twirled legs and a cabinet full of precious china. A long table held silver platters with food and a crystal punch bowl. A footman filled glasses and handed them out to the ladies.
Lamb accepted hers with trembling fingers. As they stepped aside to look at the china cabinet, she whispered to Merula, “I’ve never drunk punch before in my life.”
“There can be alcohol in it, so better make sure you don’t drink too much too quickly,” Merula warned her. “Just a sip can be very refreshing.”
Lamb tried it carefully. “It stings my tongue.”
“There must be champagne in it, or some other drink that fizzes.”
Lamb giggled. She stared into the cabinet. Merula thought she was admiring the fine patterns on the china cups, but then she realized Lamb was looking at her own reflection in the glass in the doors. She suppressed a laugh of her own.
On the other side of the room was a door that led into a hallway, and as it stood open, Merula assumed she was allowed to go through. She touched Lamb softly on the arm and nodded toward the door.
While the footman was busy serving punch to other guests, they crossed the room and went out, standing in the hallway.
A chandelier burned here as well, illuminating a towering flower piece on a wooden chest and a set of broad carpeted stairs leading up. Merula’s heart was beating fast. She had a feeling that, being inside Bixby’s house, she should do something to find out more about him and his connection with Oaks, but on the other hand, she realized it would be extremely impolite to just wander off and explore his rooms.
If only she had a reasonable excuse to go somewhere …
“What is that?” Lamb asked. She pointed up the stairs. Across the railing they could just see something dark and fluffy.
“It’s a beast, staring at us,” Lamb whispered. Her face was pale now, and she clenched her punch glass. “Mr. Bixby said something about animals that might bite us.”
“Nonsense,” Merula said. “He said they would not bite us. And if it is indeed a beast, it’s mounted and can’t stare. I’ll go see it up close.”
“I’m not coming.” Lamb planted her feet apart as if she was digging her heels into imaginary sand.
“Fine with me. I’ll just run up and be down again in a few moments.” Merula transferred her glass from her right to her left hand and used the right to firmly clench the railing as she walked up. Her courage was sinking fast under the ominous creaking of the wooden steps under her footfalls. It seemed to be so silent here, as if all the guests outside were miles away.
The dark, fluffy thing grew larger as she approached, and her heart jumped around in her chest. What on earth was it? She had never seen anything quite like it.
The head was attached to an enormous body that stood in an upright position on its hind legs, its front legs with sharp-clawed paws up as if lashing out at the beholder. The mouth inside the huge head was open, showing off vicious teeth. A card on the wooden platform the beast was mounted on read URSUS ARCTOS.
“A bear,” Merula said out loud. “I had no idea they were so large.”
Standing in front of it, she had to look up, as the bear’s gaping head was well over her own. She reached out a tentative finger to feel the fur on the chest. Suddenly there was a sound down the corridor. A click as of a door closing.
Her heart seemed to stop for a moment, then thunder on. Sweat broke out on her back. She wasn’t supposed to be here. What could she do?
On impulse, she dived into the shadows beside and half behind the bear. Its fur tickled her arm as she pressed herself close to the wall.
Voices approached.
Merula held her breath, fighting the urge to close her eyes, as if this would make her invisible to the people drawing near.
“I’m sure,” a male voice said, “that we can find a solution for it.”
“It should have been taken care of,” another replied, apparently irritated. “Bixby assured us he had it all worked out.”
“He has. We can trust him.”
“I hope so. There’s a lot of money involved, and we can’t afford to make any mistakes.”
The men passed her hiding place and went down the stairs. She didn’t dare peek out at them and just caught a glimpse of dark figures and the whiff of a spicy scent. Then they were gone. She exhaled and moved out of her hiding place.
In her haste and confusion, she had held her punch glass to the side, and some liquid had spilled across her dress. She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the wet spot, which was fortunately not too visible on the dark-purple fabric.
A sip or two of the remaining punch revived her spirits, and having put the handkerchief away, she went down the stairs. Her footfalls were quick and light, relief tingling like the punch upon her tongue. Find Raven and stay with him for the rest of the night. Take no more chances, she vowed to herself.
Merula froze on the last step of the stairs. Lamb was nowhere to be seen.
Taken aback, Merula looked about her for a moment, expecting the girl to materialize.
Had she heard the voices of the men about to come down and hidden herself?
“Lamb?” Merula whispered. She went to an alcove and swept the green velvet curtain aside, intending to laugh with Lamb at their fright over the suddenly appearing men.
But the alcove was empty. The air that wafted out of it was stale, moist as if the back wall was damp and moldy.
Wrinkling her nose, Merula dropped the heavy curtain back in place.
The door leading to the kitchens, then?
Merula tiptoed over, called out for Lamb softly, tried the door. It opened, but there was no one in the dim hallway behind it.
Merula turned and looked around her, then went to the door leading into the room where the dutiful footman served punch. Enough people were present, talking, laughing, but there wasn’t a trace of the red costume or Lamb’s blonde head.
As Merula craned her neck to look again for the girl, fresh perspiration broke out on her brow. Where had Lamb gone? She had said she didn’t want to be alone. Why would she have wandered away?
Merula put her half-full glass on a side table and rushed outside to look for Raven. He was still deep in conversation with the professor—that is, the professor was explaining something and pointing up at the night skies while Raven nodded and smiled in appreciation, his eyes betraying that he wanted to get away but saw no way to achieve it.
Merula
marched up to them and put her hand on his arm. “My dear, I have something to show you. Excuse us, Professor. I’m sure we will hear much more about your fascinating theories later tonight.”
She dragged Raven away, who sighed in her ear, “At last. I thought I would never get away from him.”
“I intervened for a reason. Lamb is gone!”
“Gone? How do you mean? I thought she followed you like a shadow.”
“Yes, but …” In a low voice, Merula quickly explained what had happened. “I don’t understand where she went.”
Her voice faltered, and she swallowed hard. “I can’t help thinking something might have happened to her.”
Raven tilted his head. “A tentacle came from the woodwork and grabbed her?”
“Bixby said there were animals here. What did he mean?”
“He also said they don’t bite. He was just riling us a little. Come, we’ll find her.” Raven strode ahead, looking around him as if he expected he would see Lamb standing somewhere and could simply present her to Merula.
Knowing she had already looked in all the likely places, Merula followed him with an anxious flutter in her stomach. If something happens to Lamb, I will never forgive myself. The thought echoed through her head.
Raven and she stood in the hallway looking up to where the imposing bear stood. “Are you sure she didn’t follow you? She might have heard the voices and run into the corridor to the right.” Raven pointed up at it.
“But why, then, hasn’t she come down again?”
“I have no idea, but I’ll go and look. You stay here.”
Raven rushed up the stairs and disappeared.
Merula turned her back on the stairs and pretended to be looking out through the decorated pane beside the front door. Her mind was racing. Had someone seen her and Lamb go into the hallway?
Had that person waited until Lamb was alone to attack her?
But if someone had jumped at her, she would have screamed. She would not just have gone along, without a fight.
Merula looked about her, and suddenly she saw something that made her heart beat even more. A punch glass abandoned on the floor. Not fallen, not broken. But set aside, it seemed.
Death Comes to Dartmoor Page 9
