I was struck hard on the back of my head and, to the sounds of the laughter and undiluted joy of the gentlemen in the room, sent spinning into unconsciousness.
16
A Death at Surrenden Manor
I bent down to help Mr Morgan pick up Father’s body from the floor of the drawing room.
‘Don’t you worry yourself with this, young sir,’ he grumbled. ‘I am not yet as old and weak as you would have me believe, you know.’ He put both of his arms under the body and stood, until he was cradling the flesh that had once been my father in his arms as if it were a large child.
‘Damn!’ I said as I looked down at the rug where it had lain just moments before and noticed that there was a small burn mixed among the intricate pattern. ‘Perhaps I was little too forceful in my actions. I am sorry, Ma, I seem to have left a mark.’
‘Don’t you worry yourself,’ she said. ‘I can soon mend it so the mark is not so noticeable. That’s my job; you’ve done yours right enough.’
I looked at the pair of them and in that moment I felt nothing but love.
‘Thank you both for this. I am in your debt forever. I could never have wished for better people to guide me through my youth. You have been truer parents to me than my own ever were.’
Mrs Coleman rushed towards me and took me in her arms. ‘You are a wonderful boy!’ she cried. ‘And you deserved better. Ever since you told me how you suspected he was responsible for what happened to Victoria, it has been playing devilishly on my mind. The more I thought of him and his ways, the more I knew that it was he who had put her into that position; delivery boy indeed! Your father was a bad one and we will all be better off without him. So let us be thankful that we have each other.’ She wiped her eyes before righting herself once more. ‘Now, this will not do! We have much to do before you leave, sir.’ She turned to the gardener. ‘Mr Morgan, don’t you be standing there like a great clod. Take that thing out to the orchard and make sure it’s buried deep. We don’t want it to be found – ever.’
‘The hole is already dug, Harriet. We did it together las’ night, didn’t we, boy?’ He smiled at me and carried the body out of the room, to a door at the back where a wheelbarrow waited.
‘Now then,’ Mrs Coleman said, looking me up and down. ‘Has everything been arranged as we planned? I don’t want to have any nasty surprises to deal with when you’ve gone.’
‘Of course, Ma,’ I said. ‘The carriage driver who brought Father back this morning has been well paid. If asked he will say that he took him to the train station this morning, where Father boarded a train to Liverpool. Later this morning, you will find a letter from Father in his study, stating that he has decided to leave to start his own mission in the islands of the South Seas and does not expect to return soon; tickets for such a journey have been bought and paid for. You will give this letter to Father’s solicitor, Mr Bainbridge, who will take over the affairs of Father’s estate, namely the continued payment of yours and Mr Morgan’s salaries until Father’s return. I have spoken to Mr Bainbridge myself and made sure that if any questions arise regarding Father, he shall find his own name on the cover of all the newspapers as a visitor and investor in brothels. Mr Bainbridge will also take over Father’s other business affairs himself and as such will become a very powerful and wealthy man because of Father’s downfall. Everybody benefits from today.
‘The house will remain in Father’s name until such time as it is decided that he is no longer able to return – I will ensure that news reaches England at some point in the future of Father’s untimely death whilst ministering to the newly Christian peoples of the world.
‘Mother will be collected from The Retreat Hospital at the soonest opportunity and be returned to her home, where she will be cared for by Mr Morgan and yourself. Finally, as for me, I shall leave today, as planned, to start my new life in London, where I am away from any doubt or suspicion regarding Father’s hasty disappearance. I shall write, of course, but I shall probably not return unless forced – it is time to start afresh for me.’
Mrs Coleman smiled at me gently. ‘Oh Arthur, we are both so very proud. You are like a son to me. If only it had been you that Victoria gave her attentions to.’
I held up my hand to her. ‘Arthur no more, Ma. From now on, and for all of our safety, I shall make my name as Samuel Weaver. It is fitting for me, in my new adventure, to leave Arthur Lambert behind in York.’
Within the hour the carriage arrived to take me to the station. Mrs Coleman and Mr Morgan stood on the steps of the house and waved me off as I went. Something within told me that this would be the start of a great adventure and, sure enough, the following day I found myself in the offices of The Illustrated Police News arguing with Henry Cope and introducing myself to Mr George Purkess for the first time.
***
A splitting pain in my head awoke me and, as I tried to lift my hand to my head to rub it, I realised that I was shackled. The room was quite dark and my eyes struggled to adjust, the only light coming from a barred grill in the top of the door, catching the dust motes in the hazy atmosphere. It was as I looked over that I saw, sitting on a cot bed on the far side of the room, the silhouette of a man. He heard my movements and spoke.
‘What a mess, what a state, what a terrible place we have put ourselves in, Samuel. How did we get here? We must be fools.’ He leant forwards so that the light from the grill illuminated his face.
‘Oh God, Higgins! Not you as well?’ I said. ‘I had hoped that you would be out there somewhere, fetching assistance. What happened to you, Edward? Did the verger, Mr Williams, not get to you?’
‘Williams? No, I did not see the man.’
‘I am so sorry, Edward. It seems that I have led you to destruction. I wish I had never started all of this now. Perhaps Williams made it out, though? Perhaps help is on its way?’
Higgins laughed then and I took it to be the laughter of a man facing his end.
‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘What is so funny, my friend?’
‘You led me here, Sam?’ he laughed. ‘You led me here? Please do not tell me that you still believe that. Oh goodness, what a joke this is, Samuel! What a perfect and most ideal joke this all is. Do you not see it yet? Do you not see?’ He stood from the bed so that he looked down upon me, his face still a smile, his eyes glistening. He was not shackled as I was. ‘You did not lead me anywhere. You have not led me anywhere at all; it is you who have been led. I really thought that you were better than this, really I did.’
‘But what do you mean?’ I tried to stand, but the chains kept me sitting upon the floor.
‘Samuel Weaver, you are a disappointment to me. If you weren’t so valuable to my cause I would walk out of this door and leave you to slowly die. Tell me, Sam, what is my name?’
‘Edward Higgins, of course.’
‘Is it, Sam? Is it?’
‘Why yes, what kind of game is this? What are you playing at?’
‘I’m afraid, my friend, that the time for games is now over. From here on in, it is just terrible reality for you. Think about it for a moment; use that cunning brain of yours. What is my name?’
I froze, staring at the man standing above me.
‘Lord William Falconer,’ I muttered, hardly wanting to believe the words that came from my lips. ‘Your name is Lord William Falconer.’
‘Good man! Good man!’ he cried, clapping his hands together in glee. ‘At last the boy has got it. Really, Samuel, I obviously had you down for a much more devious and twisted mind than you obviously own. Has it really taken this long? Really?’
Memories came flooding back to me then. Of how both men were said to go missing for days on end; of our chance meeting that night at the Egyptian Hall; of how he had appeared in Pluckley shortly after Surrenden Manor was taken under new ownership. I was such a fool.
‘But I met Lord Falconer,’ I exclaimed. ‘I saw him twice, didn’t I? If you are Lord William Falconer, then who was he? I don’t understand.
Why did you pretend to be my friend? Why did you bring me here?’
He smiled at my rush of questions and slowly sat down again on the bed, withdrawing his cigarette case from his pocket, before taking out a stick and lighting it.
‘Well, initially it was for sport, of course, but then it became something much more fun,’ he said. ‘As to my other self, you are, of course, referring to another of my good friends – Freddie, a man of the theatre. Oh how he loved playing that role for me. According to Mr Soames and Mr Dawes he was very impressive, a true actor; which, of course, is what he is. I found him on the stage at the Alhambra about a year ago – such a talented man, if a little guilty of overacting when he gets carried away. I really would have expected you to see through him, Sam. The man cannot put on an accent to save his life!’
He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, before settling back on the small cot bed, leaning against the wall and kicking his legs out in front of him. He continued, ‘I have watched you for a long time, Samuel, since shortly after your arrival in London in fact. You were not such a good reporter that you hid the fact that you were obsessed with Sibelius Darke. I have people on the ground, Samuel, people who let me know when my business is being looked into – and subtlety is not a skill that comes easily to you. When I heard that you were heading down to Pluckley, I couldn’t believe my luck. It was too good a chance to miss, Sam, really it was. I must say, though, that I found your company very entertaining – you are a good man to have around, if only for a drink. When you returned to London and continued to dig, I thought to have you killed immediately, but then I remembered dear Freddie and decided to continue my play for a little longer. It really is such a shame that you set yourself against me; we could have worked so well together, you and I.’ The smile on his face was so wide that I thought that it would crack his cheeks as he spoke. ‘Tell me, Samuel. Did you ever work out why the girls in Boston Place lost their hearts?’
‘I assumed that it was just some kind of ritual murder, something to do with your Golden Woman.’
‘Correct, most correct. Good man! But what was it for, though? Why those women, in particular? Any ideas? What did they have in common?’
‘They all worked for the service agency. And they all killed their own children.’
‘They did indeed, Sam. They did indeed. And there is good reason for this. For just as the hearts and souls of the innocent and pure are powerful tools in magic, so the heart of a killer is a much more powerful thing. Taking the life of another, especially one dear to you, it blackens that fragile muscle inside your chest; it fills it with a darkness that will never leave and which can be used to create power, Sam, terrible and great power. I have always been entranced by magic, Sam; ever since I was a small boy. Do you know anything of the tragedy of my upbringing?’
‘I know that you were orphaned at a young age and that your parents died on the Southern Cape. What of it?’
‘Ah well, when my parents died I was heartbroken – what small boy wouldn’t be? I grieved for years until finally, after becoming a man, I decided to travel to the Cape, to find out more about their demise. Africa is a wonderful place, Samuel. I cannot tell you how much it opened my eyes to the world which surrounds us; a world of magic and forces which can be harnessed, if you have the right tools. I did not find out anything new about my parents’ death that I hadn’t already been told, but it was on my travels that I first met Master Mávnos, a fellow traveller from the far north of Europe, and a magician and conjurer of quite extraordinary proportions. He was travelling in Africa to learn new skills, especially those concerning the creation of life. We became close friends and journeyed together; it was he who opened my eyes, and it is from him that I learnt each culture possesses its own particular magic, which can be harnessed for certain uses.
‘We travelled into Asia and the plains of Mongolia, working our way back west through the countries of Europe until we returned to the home of Mávnos, the Sammi lands near the Arctic Circle. It is a remarkable place, Sam. I would encourage you to go there but I’m afraid your future is rather somewhat curtailed now. It was here that Mávnos finally told me of the ancient Sammi queen. Now I am a fickle man, I admit this. My mind wanders and my allegiances dance about like a flighty young girl, desperately seeking something perfect in the world. It was then that I found it, in Louhi.
‘Here was a beautiful and powerful woman, someone to admire, someone to follow and to love. I became entranced by the stories of her, something which Mávnos saw in me. And so, when he told me that there was a way we could bring his queen back, I charged him with making it possible; with bringing together the elements required to bring my own true queen back to life. Now that is real magic, Sam. That is real power, the power of life over death, the power of the gods.’
‘The type of magic required to create a living woman made of gold?’ I offered.
‘Exactly, Sam. You really are picking this up at a pace now, you know. Now, The Fellowship – what was left of my club once that fool Darke had taken a match to it – we set up the agency on the Marylebone Road to attract the type of girls we needed. Once on board, we used my man Mávnos to have a little talk to them and to persuade them that it would be in their best interests to take the life of one dear to them. He is a very clever man, Mávnos, most persuasive when he needs to be. When the girls had carried out their task they were taken to a special place, where they were kept until we had the required number.’
‘Twelve.’
‘Twelve, indeed. And so, once ready, these twelve willing participants took part in a ceremony whereupon their blackened hearts were given voluntarily for the greater cause – and to bring our Golden Woman to life.’
‘She left footprints on the floor of the room.’
‘She did indeed; that is where she took her first steps for us. So now we had our ‘perfect’ killer and we let her out on the streets at night to do her work. The girls she killed were all employed by the agency and sent out into the dark for our own golden girl to hunt and kill. It was some sport for her – and we really hoped that she would take to it better.’
‘In terms of what you needed, did she not do a good job?’ I asked, my mind a blur.
‘Well she did, but, you see, the problem with an automaton is that they will only do directly what you ask them to. There was no finesse, no enjoyment in her work. She killed and placed them as instructed, even using the railway spikes which we provided for her by the sackful, but she was a little… cold. There was no fire in her belly, no lust. In many ways her downfall, and the way you brought it about, were a blessing to us. It got rid of her and brought a truth to us that we had previously not considered.’
‘Which is?’
‘The fact that a killing machine is all very well, but you can never really beat getting a man to do the work for you. And I believe that you may be that man.’
‘Me? You must be joking with me, Edward – or is it William? If you think that I will do your bidding, then you will be very much mistaken.’
‘Oh, there is no mistake. You are a killer after all, aren’t you, Sam? Poor Mr Tandry was in a terrible mess when we found him. From the look of his face, you have quite a rage inside you – a rage which can be put to better use.’
I thought then of the others that I had killed: of Hiram Osborne drowned in chocolate; of sweet Victoria spurned and sent to the butcher’s knife; of Isabelle lying at the bottom of the staircase; and finally of my father, a burning poker thrust through his chest before being buried in an unmarked grave at the foot of an apple tree. If only Falconer knew of these killings his glee would be even greater.
‘I will not,’ I said. ‘You cannot make me do your bidding; I am not some poor servant girl, weak and ready to be persuaded.’
‘Oh, those girls were not weak; my man Mávnos has… skills. You will be a wonderful addition to our armoury, but first we require something from you. We have a host for our queen, a fitting body for her to take once the soul has be
en cleansed from it and the shell made ready for Louhi’s arrival. But to bring our queen to us we require a token, something that you hold within you.’
‘Look at me. I am chained to a wall – what could you possibly take from me? And it doesn’t matter anyway; I have already made moves to expose you. At this moment, the police will be looking through all of my work and finding all the evidence they need to bring you down.’
‘The police?’ He laughed. ‘The police? Please, Samuel, do I have to explain to you how influential I am? There is not a station in London in which I do not have eyes and ears, and there is not a policeman I cannot own.’
I thought of George Langton; was he one of Falconer’s men? Had I been fooled by him as well?
‘We shall see,’ I said. ‘Now, is that all, or do you wish to taunt me further?’
‘No, that is all for now, Samuel. I will be seeing you later, though. We are all desperate to see our star act perform for us tonight.’ He stood from the cot bed and knocked on the door. Bolts were moved on the outside and it was opened. A tall, thin man wearing spectacles entered the room, carrying a metal tray. He placed the tray on the cot and took from it a glass syringe, before turning to me.
‘We will be back for you shortly, Samuel,’ Falconer said, looking down on me. ‘You will enjoy your role as our new weapon. But for now, and as a parting gift from a friend, I think it is best if you sleep for the next part of the procedure. Honestly, I have seen it performed on those awake and it is not something that I would see you suffer.’
He left then and, as I struggled to get away from the man with the syringe, the needle was stuck into my arm and the plunger depressed. I fell into a dark sleep.
***
A searing red glare burned through my head, waking me from my drugged state. Slowly I opened my eyes, squinting at the shock of the light as it struck my pupils. My vision was hazy, but I could tell that I had been moved and was no longer in the cell. I tried to lift my hands to rub at my face, to bring more lucidity, more awareness; they would not move, however, and nor would my legs. Stiff leather bindings were holding me down and I knew then that I had been strapped to a table; to an altar.
Domini Mortum Page 27
