He attempted to stand, but his legs would not hold him. There was a pool of bile and blood on the floor and the stench made Felix’s own fragile stomach lurch.
“What are you doing here?” said Sir Morten.
“It is as well we are,” Felix said. “I think you are unwell.”
He tried to approach him, but Sir Morten pushed him away.
“This is outrageous! You have been spying upon us!”
“With good reason,” said Major Vernon. “Now, sir, I insist you accept help. We have a great deal to talk about, after all.”
Sir Morten looked as if he were going to protest again, but another bout of vomiting overcame him.
“I will go and get help,” said Lord Rothborough, going to the door. “We will take him to my house?”
“Yes,” said Major Vernon.
Having got hold of Sir Morten’s hand, Felix found that his pulse was fading and his hands felt cold. His lips were also cracked and burnt, as if they had been touched by some noxious substance.
“He is extremely ill,” said Felix, wondering if Sir Morten had been poisoned. “I really don’t think he has much time left.”
“Then do your best,” Major Vernon said. “Keep him alive as long as you can.”
~
All the conveniences of Lord Rothborough’s house were lavished on Sir Morten, and Felix did his best to make him comfortable, although it was clear some dire toxin was attacking his system. He was installed in an elegant bedroom, and seemed to have rallied a little, when Major Vernon came in.
“It’s good to see that you are a little better, sir,” he said, taking a chair to the bedside. “I am glad we shall have the chance to talk.”
“About what?” said Sir Morten. “I have nothing to say to you, sir. Your underhand behaviour has seen to that.”
“We shall see. I want to talk to you first about my fiancée, Mrs Maitland. She has made a complaint to me about your conduct towards her.”
“A complaint?”
“She said that you behaved indecently towards her.”
“Indecently? What can she mean?”
“She said that you demanded intimate favours from her, as payment for the reduced rent. With force.”
Felix, who was sitting in the corner, could hardly believe what he had heard.
At last Sir Morten said, “The fact is, Major Vernon, charming though the lady is, you only have her word for it that such a thing happened.”
“I am to doubt her word, sir?” Major Vernon said.
“You might be disturbed to hear this, given that she is your betrothed, but I found her manner when we were alone together alarming, to say the least. I’m an old man, after all. I do not expect to have eyes made at me or caps thrown for that matter, but I have to say that she did both these. I am sorry to have to tell you this.”
Felix wondered how on earth Major Vernon could keep his composure, but he sat calmly and said, “That is distressing to hear, certainly.”
“And I regret having to tell you so, Major Vernon. But that is the way of women, I’m afraid. Over the years I have come to the conclusion that one never ought to trust them, no matter how virtuous they seem. They are not as men are.”
There was another long silence. Major Vernon appeared to be studying his fingernails.
Sir Morten, who clearly liked the sound of his own voice, went on, “Was she not engaged before to some other man? I think I heard that somewhere.”
At this Major Vernon got up. He leant on his chair back, his head bent, almost as if he were riding a painful blow. But then he said, “So I am to take your word that what Mrs Maitland said to me is untrue?”
“Yes,” said Sir Morten. “You have my word, sir. Why would I lie? I have nothing to gain. She has a great deal to gain by lying to you. She did not get what she wanted from me and now she wishes to have you punish me by making these accusations. But we shall not let ourselves be confused by her manipulations, shall we?”
“The thing is, Sir Morten,” Major Vernon said, taking a few paces up the room, “I find your word to be a dubious thing, and I am disinclined to take it.”
“I tell you, she set her cap at me!” said Sir Morten. “And you must not let the lure of bodily passion delude you about her. She is certainly an attractive woman, enough to tempt a man into great folly.”
“But not you, sir?” said Major Vernon.
“I am an old man,” said Sir Morten. “Those pleasures are long gone. I have no interest in women. None at all. And certainly not Mrs Maitland.”
“Then all the details that she gave me, which were not pleasant by any means – am I to dismiss them? They seemed all too plausible to me. I have led a dirty life, you see, Sir Morten, and know what men are capable of. I find it hard to disregard her account as a fiction.”
“She has lied to you,” Sir Morten said.
“Or you have lied to me?” Major Vernon replied. “After all, this is not the first time you have lied. There is a pattern to this. I asked you if you had visited your son at the Hermitage, and you denied it. Now Mark informs me that you were there, on the morning of Arthur’s death, and that you had a long conversation. You discussed the possibility of his going to New Zealand.”
“That is what Mark tells you,” said Sir Morten, “but given his reputation, I can only think you have a disordered brain to take his word over mine. And again, why would I lie?”
“Because you are arrogant enough to believe that no one would dare question your word. But I do question it. You may be the absolute master of your domain, and no one from the rats in your attics to the fish in your ponds can ever contradict you, but I may. You are not my master, Sir Morten.”
“You are a fool to listen to Mark.”
“His evidence alone would not have been enough to convince me, although it was compelling. But there was a witness who saw you leave that day. Miss Wytton.”
“Who will say anything Mark tells her. She is his mistress – you do understand that? In fact, it is my belief that they killed Arthur between them.”
“That’s a neat theory,” said Major Vernon. “But unfortunately utter nonsense. And as for her being his mistress, and Mark having seduced her – that was only something you invented in order to stop the marriage. You thought Miss Wytton quite unequal to being Lady Hurrell.”
“Which events have proved,” said Sir Morten. “I understand she has been involved with this terrible business with the bank.”
“I do find it interesting that you despised her lineage so much,” said Major Vernon after a moment, “given your own choice of bride. Her family were very small people.”
“What has my wife to do with this?” said Sir Morten.
“Everything,” said Major Vernon. “After all, that was why you were searching the drawing room just now. You were looking for something.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Lord Rothborough suggested to you that there might be evidence there, did he not, concerning the circumstances of your late wife’s death?”
“I was humouring him. We do humour our great men.”
“I think you were concerned to hear there might be something there that cast you in an ill light.”
“This is nonsense.”
“Then why did you get up from your sick bed and agree to meet with Lord Rothborough? You are a sick man, Sir Morten. This cannot be pleasant for you, but it seems to have been necessary.”
“I think you are indulging in fancies, Major Vernon.”
“Yesterday I took up the floorboards and discovered a letter from Lady Hurrell addressed to your son Mark. It was dated just before her death and ought to have been posted. But she did not dare trust it to the post, and in the end she pushed it through a crack in the floorboards.”
“What nonsense!”
“Yes, it does sound like nonsense, but she was a desperate woman. She had been unjustly accused of adultery – and denied the company of her children. According to th
is letter you left her in that house to die, Sir Morten, and furthermore you hastened her death. There was, with her letter, a little paper packet containing a white powder. Mr Carswell informs me that it is arsenic.”
“She was a deluded person,” said Sir Morten. “And it is entirely in character that she would attempt to defame me from beyond the grave. We were not happy.”
“You should have been more careful who you married, then,” said Major Vernon.
“Indeed I should,” said Sir Morten. “A great beauty, but she brought a curse on my family. She trapped me. That is the best that can be said for it. And she was a whore.”
“Am I to take your word for that, too, Sir Morten?”
“This is growing tiresome,” said Sir Morten.
“Yes, it is,” said Major Vernon. “But I am interested still that you should be so exercised about this letter being found. After all, if your word is so unassailable that you can calmly accuse a woman like Mrs Maitland of telling a shocking untruth, then why should this old letter disturb you? Everyone will believe you because of who you are. But you see, that old assurance of yours, it has been assaulted. Bit by bit, year by year, it is crumbling like the plaster ceilings in that lovely old house where your poor wife, left alone, died in great pain, and with her reputation blackened.”
At this, Sir Morten attempted to stir from his bed, but Major Vernon leapt up and stood over him.
“I have not finished.”
“Sir –” Sir Morten began, but he seemed overcome with bodily discomfort, and he was forced to lie back on his pillows, grimacing with pain, while Major Vernon continued. He leant over him and spoke softly.
“She did not commit adultery. That was your delusion. She was as good and true a wife as anyone could be, and a loving mother. And a great beauty – such a great beauty that you could not resist her, no matter how low her connections were, no matter how angry your father was at your actions. It killed him, did it not, when he heard what you had done? So you blamed the poor creature you had made your wife, even though she had herself told you she was not fit to be Lady Hurrell.”
Sir Morten put up his hands defensively and gasped, “I’m not well, man, for the Lord’s sake! For pity’s sake!”
“I have very little of that for you, sir,” said Major Vernon. “Mr Carswell will help you, but we are not finished.”
~
Carswell had struck Giles as still being unsteady on his legs, and so he had sent for additional assistance. This appeared in the august form of Mr Harper from the Infirmary, who came in and at once sent Carswell to rest. He then turned his attention to Sir Morten. When he had finished examining him, he drew Giles to one side and said, quietly, “He is certainly dying. Why are you questioning him, Major Vernon?”
“I believe he has murdered both his son and his wife.”
Harper swallowed.
“He has admitted so much?”
“Not to me. I hope he might yet, for the sake of justice.”
“For the sake of his soul,” said Harper, “I pray that he does.”
They went back to the bedside.
“I regret to say you have little time left, sir,” said Mr Harper to Sir Morten. “I suggest you use it well. The Lord forgives all those who truly repent of their sins. It is not too late.”
Sir Morten rolled his head away, determined not to listen.
“Think of your children, Sir Morten,” said Giles, taking a chair close up to the bedside, and using a consciously gentle tone. “You may see them in Heaven if you speak to me now. Think of that.”
Sir Morten shook his head, his eyes closed. He was obviously in great pain.
“Your daughters, sir,” said Giles. “Those three charming souls. They would wish you to speak now. Mary, Lucy and Jane, yes?” The mention of these names caused Sir Morten to grimace. “What account of yourself will you give them, sir? What will you say to your boys, John and Francis? Or indeed to Arthur?”
“Do not speak of them!” Sir Morten said. “It is as well they died. They were too full of their mother’s blood. It’s better they are gone.”
“Better that they are dead?” said Giles.
“Yes. We were cursed by her. She ruined us all. She ruined my name.”
“And that is why you let her die. Why you caused her to die.”
“‘A good tree bringeth not forth corrupt fruit, neither doth a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit,’” Sir Morten quoted. “I did what had to be done. That is all.”
“So you killed Arthur?” Giles pressed on.
There was a long interval. Sir Morten was clearly struggling greatly. His breathing was extremely irregular and he began to retch violently again. When, after some minutes, he was a little calmer, Mr Harper put his hand on Sir Morten’s wrist and said, “You are fading, sir. You must prepare for death and the judgement that follows.”
“I did what had to be done,” said Sir Morten, finding the strength that sometimes comes over the dying in their last moment. He struggled upright, and pulled his hand away from Harper. “I may burn in Hell for it, but I did what I had to! I disobeyed my father when I married that whore, and she ruined my name. Seven children, and five dead, and the two left, to my name, were not worthy of it. They had to go.”
“To end the line forever?” Giles said.
“Yes,” said Sir Morten, speaking with the greatest difficulty, as convulsions racked his body. “At first I thought only of Mark. After he published that book, I knew he had to be destroyed before he could do any more damage. He was a wretched, wounded beast, mired in his own wickedness and beyond redemption, beyond contempt, indeed. So I planned to dispose of him. But as I did, it came to my attention that Arthur, my dear, sweet boy, was also dangerously infected –”
It seemed that he could not go on, but after a little while, he began again, in a low, hoarse whisper: “He had developed opinions of which I could not approve – appalling opinions. He was preparing to leave the Church and go to Rome, and take orders in the Catholic Church!”
Sir Morten broke off, groaning now in pain, and writhing under the bedclothes in the most alarming fashion. At length he managed to steady himself and said, “He confessed it to me!” The words came out as if he were spitting nails, and he collapsed again.
“So you decided to kill him?” Giles said.
Glassy-eyed with pain, Sir Morten looked up at him and nodded.
“I did,” he said. “I had no choice.”
“So you went to the old chapel, where you knew he would be praying, and stabbed him with an arrow?”
Sir Morten sank back on his pillows.
“Yes.”
“And why did you choose an arrow? Because you knew that Mark had been hunting in the woods, that he had brought down a hind. You wanted to make it seem as if Mark was responsible. You had decided to exploit the quarrels between the brothers, to contrive it so it looked as if they had destroyed each other. You planted the arrow and the blood-stained smock in the Hermitage so that it would seem that Mark was guilty.”
“I wanted –” Sir Morten said, and then took a great breath. “I wanted to see him hang. And by God, I still do!”
“Sir Morten, I beg you,” said Mr Harper, “think before you speak. You have so little time.”
“Be quiet!” said Sir Morten. “I shall not have a dissenter preaching over me! I did what was necessary. That is an end to it!”
He began to cough blood, which turned into a violent paroxysm from which it was clear there could be no recovery. Ten minutes later, he was dead.
~
Carswell returned from his rest to confer with Harper over the body.
“Arsenic poisoning, without a doubt,” Carswell said. “There was a mass of undigested arsenic in his vomit. But who would do that to him?”
“I have an idea,” Giles said.
Chapter Forty
“You do not wish to see Sir Morten?” Mrs Hurrell said.
“No, just you, ma’am,” said Major Vernon.
“As you wish. Do sit down.”
They had been shown into a little room where she was sitting sewing by the window.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” said Major Vernon. “Sir Morten died this morning.”
She gave a gasp, her hand flying to her breast.
“No!”
“The manner of his death has raised some serious questions.”
“He has been ill – with the fever.”
“Yes, certainly he has been ill, but that was not the cause of it. Two medical men, Mr Harper from the Infirmary and Mr Carswell here, have both confirmed that he was poisoned.”
“Oh, dear Lord!”
“Now perhaps you could help us, ma’am? When was Sir Morten first taken ill?”
“Oh, I am not sure, really.”
“But you have been nursing him.”
“Yes.”
“So can you say when it came over him?”
“Does it matter so much?” she said.
“Yes,” said Major Vernon, “I’m afraid so. You see, we have to establish how it might have happened.”
“I will try and assist you, but – oh dear, I’m not sure. It was about a week or so ago, but the details escape me. Please forgive me. This is such a shock, I can hardly think straight! Oh, poor Sir Morten. I hope he did not suffer too much. Did he?”
“I’m afraid it was not a comfortable passing for him,” said Major Vernon. “However, he is in God’s hands now.”
“Yes, yes, so we must pray. I must tell the boys. It is really –”
“I think that might wait, ma’am,” said Major Vernon. “There are a few more questions I must ask, I’m afraid. Sir Morten has been murdered, after all.”
There was a silence, and then she nodded, and made a gesture for him to continue. But Felix noticed that she could not meet his gaze.
“I understand that Sir Morten was in the habit of dining alone when there was no company?” Major Vernon said.
“Yes,” said Mrs Hurrell.
“And he liked to have his dinner brought to him in his study.”
“Yes.”
The Echo at Rooke Court Page 31
