by T. H. Hunter
“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” I said. “But it’s got to be something big. He wouldn’t end the relationship or even threaten her that way otherwise. Come on, Val, let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough for one evening.”
***
Within half an hour, we were back in the hall. Only a few people were still there, though Barry had apparently already left. There was no sign of Sarah, Lord Pembroke’s assistant, either.
By the time Val and I had finally found the North wing, we were both thoroughly exhausted from traipsing up and down countless stairs in the Pembroke manor. The corridors in the guests’ quarters were much more friendly, however, with powerful lamps illuminating the ornate carpets we walked on.
Amidst doors closing and goodnights being exchanged between the numerous other guests in the wing, we finally arrived at our own room. Barry was already waiting for us.
“Glad you bothered to come by,” he said sarcastically. “I thought you’d decided to sleep in the stables.”
“You could’ve waited in your friend’s room,” said Val, equally venomous, unable to hide a tinge of jealousy, “I’m sure she would have been delighted to entertain you a little further.”
“You may mock me,” said Barry haughtily, “yet her appreciation is purely platonic, based on my excellent work in the field, I can assure you, Valerie.”
“Alright, you two,” I said. “Let’s continue the fight inside. I’m dying for a bath.”
***
Just as the Pembroke manor itself, the suite was gorgeous. It combined the grace and wealth of a bygone age with some of the more modern amenities that even the rather more traditional magical community refused to do without these days. Val and I had a room each, while Barry had his own couch in the spacious sitting room that connected them.
Once we had unpacked, we told Barry all about the conversation we overheard between Steven and Emma, as well as the strange conundrum surrounding her altered accent.
“Perhaps she was just trying to shake off her accent to impress him,” said Barry, brushing a speck of dust from one of his paws with the other.
“Believe me, that was the last thing on her mind,” I said. “It sounded like – well, it was – the very nasty end of a relationship. I don’t think you have much time to think about accents and stuff like that.”
“In that case,” said Barry, “her local accent must be phony.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said.
“But why would she do that?” interjected Val, pulling off one of her stockings with some force.
“Isn’t it obvious?” said Barry, a smug look on his face.
“No,” said Val, wrestling with the other stocking. “Not to me, anyway.”
“She’s affecting a local accent because it’s the hip thing to do,” said Barry dismissively. “Everyone wants to speak like the Bugs, or Beatles, or whatever their name is.”
“Barry, that’s definitely not it,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s no longer the 60s, you know.”
“Glad it isn’t,” he said. “Awful time. Terrible music.”
“I’m sure it was,” I said, grinning, “cooped up alone in your library listening to Wagner all day.”
“I beg your pardon, Amanda?”
“Anyway,” I said, chortling. “Did you find out anything interesting from Sarah?”
Val snorted, but didn’t say anything.
“Her theoretical background is quite extensive,” said Barry, preparing for what I was sure would be a momentous monologue. “Therianthropy seems to be only one of her interests. She…”
“I mean, in terms of the threatening letters Lord Pembroke’s been receiving,” I said. “You know, the reason we are here in the first place.”
“Oh, that,” Barry said, as though the case were nothing but a nuisance to him, “in regard to Lord Pembroke’s predicament, I don’t think she’s connected in any way at all.”
“Are you saying that because she praised your work?” I said.
“Because there is no evidence to the contrary,” Barry retorted smoothly.
“How long has she been working for Lord Pembroke?” I asked.
“Sarah hasn’t been with him for very long, I believe,” he said. “A few weeks, at the most.”
“What’s her job here, exactly?”
“I believe she helps to maintain the magical systems here,” said Barry. “They had some trouble maintaining the systems, apparently.”
“I thought magic was forbidden here,” said Val, perplexed.
“Active magic is indeed,” said Barry. “As far as I understand it, active waves of magic may even damage the magical generator that powers the barrier, thereby puncturing the field that protects the Pembroke estate from the normal passage of time. But the generator itself, as well as all other magical systems –the sewer, the plumbing, the array of appliances – need to be maintained. It is old magic that is reapplied, as it were.”
“I see,” I said.
“So when’s the wedding?” asked Val.
“I am married to the science of magic,” Barry insisted.
“She’s a scientist,” said Val.
“Wouldn’t she have to be a cat scientist, strictly speaking?” I said.
Val laughed. And though Barry kept a perfectly straight face, I thought I saw his whiskers twitch, just for the briefest of moments.
***
After I had taken a relaxing bath, we happily continued our banter well into the night. Though the drive and the day’s events had been tiring, we were still too much under the impression of our new surroundings to go to bed.
Gradually, however, we must have dozed off on the sofa, one by one.
I was tossed into a bizarre dream world, in which Barry announced that he was taking over control of the Pembroke estate. Lord Pembroke was designated as head butler, while Carew – suddenly spouting a long, white beard – retired from his post. Beatrice staged a rebellion to reinstate Lord Pembroke, but was betrayed by Sarah, whom Barry promoted to Court Witch, First Class, for her services.
Barry’s official coronation was to take place in the great hall. Thousands had gathered there, filling it to the last inch. Hanging above our heads was a giant picture of Barry himself. Lord Pembroke approached with a golden crown on a cushion. But before he reached him, a terrible scream permeated the hall. It was a woman’s voice, full of terror and foreboding.
***
“Amy. Amy, wake up.”
“What… what’s going on?” I said dazedly.
I found myself slumped on the couch in an awkward position. I felt stiff all over. I opened my eyes and saw Val in front of me. She looked worried.
“There’s something going on outside,” she said quickly.
I looked out of the window, but it was still dark.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“I don’t know,” said Val. “There was a scream. Half the house seems to be awake.”
I listened carefully. Val was right. Out in the corridor, the jovial conversations and ‘goodnights’ from a few hours ago had been replaced by terrified whispers.
Painfully, I got up from the sofa. Barry was already at the door, listening.
“It doesn’t sound good,” he said.
“Let’s see what’s going on,” I said.
I hastily got my coat and shoes.
With Barry and Val on my heels, I opened the door and hastened out onto the corridor. It was not difficult to follow the fearful gazes and hushed voices. They led us down two flights of steps and out of the house through one of the side entrances.
The air outside felt cold and unwelcoming. A group of people were standing not too far away.
“It must have been an accident,” someone muttered to grunts of approval.
“The healers should be here any minute now,” somebody else announced.
Val, Barry, and I approached the site. As we mingled in the small crowd, we finally saw what was the sou
rce of the commotion.
A young woman with flaming red hair lay on the ground. It was Emma, the new maid.
“Shocking,” a woman next to us said, shaking her head.
“What happened?” I asked her.
“She fell out of that window, up there from that tower,” an elderly man standing next to her said.
The woman, clearly beyond words, nodded her head sadly. Then, she pointed upwards.
Following her direction, I saw it. The window belonged to the tallest tower by far. Although I wasn’t sure, I thought that it had to belong to the West wing of the house, judging by the angle.
“Make way, please,” a voice cut through the crowd. “Healers coming through.”
Val, Barry, and I quickly stepped aside.
Two healers approached the lifeless body of Emma. Though I hoped I was mistaken, I doubted there was anything that the healers could do for her.
As the first healer examined various parts of the body, the other poured mysterious liquids into her mouth.
But after a while, one of them shook his head.
“It’s no use, Stan,” he said. “She’s gone.”
6
Still under shock from what had happened, the bystanders gradually moved back into the house and to their rooms again.
“Come on,” I said quietly to Val and Barry, “let’s go for a walk.”
The sun was beginning to set, though a thick layer of mist prevented the rays of sunshine to penetrate properly. Once we were out of earshot, Val turned to Barry and me.
“Dead,” she exclaimed. “We saw her only a few hours ago.”
“Yes,” I said, thoughtfully. “And right after witnessing an argument.”
“Do you think he killed her, Amy?” asked Val.
“Killed her?” I said. “I’m not sure. Did you feel anything yesterday, when we overheard her and Steven arguing?”
“He was certainly very angry, though whether he is capable of murder, I don’t know.”
“It could have been suicide,” I said. “What do you think, Val?”
“She was very angry,” said Val. “But stubborn. If she did commit suicide, it must have been on the spur of the moment.”
“Oh, don’t give me that. Lord Pembroke’s son clearly killed her,” said Barry. “No mystery there.”
“Do you really think so?” said Val.
“Well, he did threaten her,” I said.
“I know,” said Val, frowning.
“You don’t think he might have pushed her down?” I said. “That would solve his problem with her, whatever it was.”
“I know it makes sense logically,” said Val, “but…”
“Look, it’s quite straightforward,” said Barry, rolling his eyes. “He threatened her. You were both there and heard the whole thing. And then, he killed her. Open and shut case, if you ask me. What possible objection is there?”
“The facts do seem to point in that direction,” I said.
“I know, Amy,” said Val. “I can’t explain it either. I just don’t think Steven is capable of… of murder, that’s all.”
“Well, you’re the psychic,” I said. “Perhaps we should…”
“Psychic my hat!” said Barry. “Forgive me, Valerie, but it’s a very unreliable branch of magic. And might I remind you that you have been fooled before.”
“I didn’t say I was right,” said Val hotly. “But sometimes, the truth is not as simple or ‘open and shut’ as you want it to be, Barry.”
“The straightforward answer is often the correct one,” said Barry.
“Not always,” Val countered. “Take your new friend, Sarah, for example.”
Barry, almost stumbling over a mole hill, came to a halt.
“What exactly are you implying?” he said.
“All I’m saying is that there’s more than meets the eye with her,” said Val.
“Well,” said Barry, “what if there were? You can’t blame an impressionable young woman if her academic admiration spills into the personal sphere and…”
“She doesn’t have a thing for you, Barry,” snapped Val. “In fact, she’s hiding something from you.”
Barry took a deep breath, as though the effort of keeping calm was gargantuan.
“And what might that be?” asked Barry.
“I don’t know,” Val admitted. “But she’s got some secret, I’m certain of that. You’d better keep a close eye on her.”
***
Since going back to bed was out of the question after what had happened, we decided to have an early breakfast. It was barely after 7 o’clock when we arrived in the hall, though we found it packed with people.
“Great,” said Barry, eyeing the full table in front of us. “Don’t these people have better things to do than to bother me at breakfast? I feel homesick already.”
“I think there are a few spare seats at the far end,” I said.
I would have given a great deal to be able to sit near the Pembrokes after what had happened to Emma. Unfortunately for us, there wasn’t a single seat left next to them.
Instead, we choose seats next to an elderly Scottish couple. They, too, were discussing Emma’s tragic death. Apparently, they had decided to cancel their reservation immediately and return home.
“Can you sense what they’re feeling?” I asked Val, leaning over so we couldn’t be overheard.
“Yes,” she said. “They’re a bit frightened, but they’re looking forward to getting out of here and…”
“No, not them,” I said, “I mean the Pembrokes.”
“Oh, right,” said Val. “Sorry, Amy. Way too many people in between. It’s a wonder I can feel anything in this sort of environment at all.”
“It’s not much of a surprise, actually,” said Barry, still sounding grumpy. “Psychic powers usually increase in time. Until, of course, you burn out from feeling other people’s emotions all day.”
“Good thing you’ll never have that problem, Barry,” I said, grinning.
Barry narrowed his eyes, but couldn’t come up with a suitable retort.
“What I really need is time with Steven alone,” said Val, leaning over. “It’s much more accurate when you get them on their own.”
“Yes,” I said quietly. “But first we’ve got to find out what Emma was up to, so we can confront him with it.”
“But how are we going to do that?” asked Val.
“We could search Emma’s room,” I said.
“Great,” said Barry sarcastically. “Another opportunity for us to get thrown out.”
“Do you have a better idea?” I said.
But before Barry could open his mouth to give his answer, a sound from a gong echoed around the hall. A figure at the opposite end of the table got up. It was Lord Pembroke.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lord Pembroke said, “it is my unfortunate duty to tell you that there has been a tragic accident here at the Pembroke estate…”
His voice sounded even thinner when raised to address an audience.
“As a result, the newest addition to our staff, Emma, has sadly and suddenly passed away.”
With the news spreading like wildfire, it seemed that this surprised no one anymore. Lord Pembroke waited patiently for the murmur of condolences around the room to subside.
“Under the present circumstances,” he continued, “it is, of course, perfectly understandable if you wish to leave. Carew will take care of all your needs should you be thus inclined.”
He cleared his throat.
“My family and I have discussed the matter of the upcoming ball. We have decided that it will proceed as planned, under the condition that it is dedicated in honour of the deceased. Everyone present is still welcome to participate. Thank you.”
And with that, Lord Pembroke sat down again. Beatrice seemed to be pleased. She engaged her brother immediately in conversation. Steven, on the other hand, hadn’t looked up during the entire speech. He just sat there, staring at the wall opposite him, c
learly lost in thought.
The hall was perfectly still for a moment, as though all present had to digest the new information. Then, as though released from a vow of silence, normal conversations picked up once again. Some, I noticed, seemed privately relieved that the ball was to continue, while others were clearly intent on leaving the Pembroke estate.
As breakfast was being served, I kept a close eye on the Pembrokes. Though his aunt Beatrice did her best to engage him in conversation, Steven offered only monosyllabic answers. Whatever his role in Emma’s death, the experience had certainly rattled him.
Peculiarly, I could not detect any change in Lord Pembroke’s behaviour at all. As was his custom, he ate his meals in polite silence. His address to the hall hadn’t exactly been heartfelt, though perhaps his worries still revolved around the threatening letters, the last of which he had received only the previous day.
All through breakfast, I contemplated the fact that the letter had prophesied murder. If Barry was right and Emma’s death was indeed foul play, then surely that couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. Why, however, had the maid been killed? That, it appeared to me, was the vital question, and one I was determined to find the answer to.
***
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Val hissed, looking around furtively.
“Nothing’s going to happen, Val,” I said, trying to pick the lock to Emma’s room with one of Val’s hair pins. “Barry’s on the lookout. He’ll start singing loudly when he sees someone.”
“That’s certainly going to drive them away,” said Val. “How much longer, do you think?”
“Almost got it,” I said. “I used to do this as a kid, back at home when I forgot my keys.”
“I still think we should have just used magic,” said Val, leaning against the wall. “I mean, I know they don’t like that here, but nobody would really know…”
“It’s safer this way, Val,” I said. “You heard what Barry said. Any active spells might destabilise the magical field.”
“It would just be one little spell,” said Val.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, Val,” I said, “it’s that minor spells can have a big impact sometimes.”
