Beatrice

by King, Rebecca

  “I am delighted to meet you too,” Beatrice replied and, to her surprise, found herself enveloped in a huge hug. “Please, call me Beatrice, and this is Ben, my friend,” she gasped when he released her.

  Ben stepped forward and held his hand out only to lift his brows at Archie’s next comment.

  “I have heard a lot about you too,” Archie sighed as he shook hands with Ben. He held his hands at his waist in a rather proud pose as he stood back to study him. “Matthew always spoke so highly about you, and often confided to me that he felt you were a suitable match for his niece. I am glad that you finally listened to sense.”

  Beatrice felt her cheeks blush and coughed a little uncomfortably as she took the seat Archie offered her in front of the desk.

  “I hope you don’t mind our intrusion? I know we should have written first but we need some advice as a matter of urgency.”

  Archie resumed his seat and leaned his elbows on the desk. “You should feel free to call upon me whenever you need to, my dear. Any relation of Matthew’s is more than welcome here.”

  Ben withdrew the packaging paper, which contained a list of names and the cultivation notes, and handed it to Archie. They watched as he picked up his spectacles again and peered down at it.

  They looked at each other when Archie’s face suddenly grew still and his mouth fell open.

  “Merciful heavens, this is Matthew’s writing,” Archie whispered.

  Beatrice opened her mouth to deny it, but felt Ben move beside her. She turned to look at him and watched him shake his head ever so slightly, and so remained quiet. They both knew that Ben was the one who had copied the drawing and notes; they were definitely not Matthew Northolt’s notes. Was Archie lying, or was it a genuine mistake?

  “Can you translate the Latin phrases?” Beatrice asked when Archie became so engrossed in the notes that he seemed to have forgotten they were there.

  Archie studied the names and addresses only briefly, then turned his attention back to the notes. “Oh, I can, my dear. The last time I saw him, Matthew, he said that he was involved in a special project with some colleagues, but was a little cagey about it. He said that it was a scientific experiment that nobody had ever tried before and, although there was nothing likely to come from it, he was going to give it a go anyway.”

  “I take it that these are cultivation notes?” Beatrice tapped the area of the packaging paper that contained the Latin words.

  Archie sighed and peered over the top of his spectacles. “These are cultivation notes for an extremely rare orchid called Caelestia Perfectionis. It is a rare cross-breed of tropical plant cultivated from two specimens originating from entirely different tropical countries. Nobody has ever done anything like it before and, to be honest, nobody really thought it was at all possible. However, if Jules Sanders is involved, then he may be able to make it happen.”

  “He made it happen,” Beatrice replied quietly. “I have it.”

  Archie’s eyes flew to hers and he studied her carefully for several long moments. However, Beatrice didn’t want to start to answer a lot of questions about the plant right now, she wanted to get to the second reason why they were there.

  “So, those are the cultivation notes,” she tapped the Latin words and random symbols. “Am I right in thinking that these men had something to do with the plant’s cultivation, along with my uncle?”

  “They are all botanists, Beatrice,” Archie replied cautiously. “However, I seriously doubt that they are colleagues. Jules and Browning had an argument only the other week, at the Town Hall, about ownership of something. I don’t know, I only heard rumours you understand, and different people always have different stories to tell. However, I know that Brian Mottram was a good friend of your uncle’s, and Matthew worked on several projects with Jules. It may be that the men worked together on the cultivation of the plant you have, I just don’t know. Unfortunately, Richard Browning doesn’t have many friends. He isn’t well liked, if you know what I mean?”

  Ben shared a look with Beatrice. “Is he likely to have had anything to do with the cultivation of the rare orchid?”

  “I don’t know. I cannot see it happening because Browning is usually abroad. He travels extensively, and brings back rare and unusual plants for a living. The university used to buy some of his finds off him but, unfortunately, he started to get greedy.”

  “Is this orchid valuable?”

  “It is to the right people,” Archie replied bluntly. He placed his spectacles a little too carefully on the desk before him. “There is a really good trade for adventurers who travel to far-off destinations in search of rare species. They usually send their finds home, and sell them to places like universities, or keep them for scientific experiments, or personal gain. However, there are also a few private collectors who will pay whatever it takes to get the best, and the rarest, plants available. Unfortunately, something as rare as this Caelestia Perfectionis would be extremely valuable.” He speared Beatrice with a pointed look. “Can you tell me how you happened to come across it?”

  Beatrice explained how it had come to be left on her doorstep, without telling him about the finding the body at the end of the garden. “What does Jules Sanders look like?”

  Archie studied her and appeared to be a little nonplussed for a minute, but gave her the information she needed. However, he described a completely different man to the corpse found at the end of Beatrice’s garden. Richard Browning was described as tall, lithe, and a little arrogant; with piercing blue eyes and a perpetual frown. Bernard Murray was a squat little man with an ample girth; testament to the many hours he spent seated behind his desk, working on his papers.

  “Is Brian Mottram about five feet six inches, or so, with steely grey hair and say, in his mid-fifties?” Ben asked and felt his stomach sink when Archie nodded.

  Beatrice stared at Archie’s white beard as his head bobbed up and down, and studied the slightly darker hair on the top of his head for a moment while silence settled over them. When it became evident that Archie was waiting for an explanation, she glanced cautiously at Ben.

  “I am afraid to tell you that Brian Mottram has died,” Beatrice told Archie quietly. “He delivered the plant to me before he passed away.”

  For some reason she couldn’t understand right away, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that Brian Mottram had been murdered. It was odd really, because the way the man died was of vital importance. However, the knowledge that Archie had mistaken Ben’s handwriting as Matthew’s warned her not to trust him too much.

  Archie looked sad for a moment; then picked up the packaging paper and his spectacles again. “Well, I think that if Brian brought you the plant before he passed away, he wanted you to have it. I would recommend that you look after it carefully because orchids are very delicate plants. They don’t like drafts at all, and you mustn’t over-water them. You must keep it safe, my dear. I hope that one day you will permit me to see it?”

  The hope in his eyes was more than Beatrice could bear, and she nodded. “Of course you are welcome to come by and see it whenever you wish.”

  “Tell me, have you ever heard of someone called Sigmund Hargraves?”

  Archie shook his head. “I am afraid not.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “It’s a shame about Brian. He was a good man, and a very straight talking kind of man who thoroughly enjoyed what he did.”

  “Did he work at the university too?”

  “Oh, no; nothing like that. He was independently wealthy and, although he gave the occasional lecture here, he was more of a collector and amateur enthusiast.”

  “I am sorry to deliver bad news about Mr Mottram,” Beatrice said softly when a slightly awkward silence fell over them.

  “It is alright my dear. When you get as old as I am, you expect people to start to drop around you.”

  This made Ben smile. He had to admit that he quite liked the elderly gent, even though he had made the faux pas about the handwriting. There was
something about the man’s calm, affable demeanour that bespoke of someone who was logical, and apt to stick to the facts rather than run off on mere flights of fancy.

  “Can you transcribe the Latin for us?” Beatrice prompted when she realised that he had yet to do so.

  Archie nodded, picked up a pencil and, within minutes, slid the paper across the desk toward Beatrice. He opened his mouth to speak only to jump in alarm when the clock on the wall began to chime. “Oh, dear. I must be off. I have to give a lecture right about now on the other side of the campus.”

  “Oh, please don’t let us keep you. You have been most helpful. Please let me know when you wish to come and see the plant. Maybe you could stay and take tea with us?”

  “That would be delightful,” Archie beamed as he yanked open the door and waved them through.

  “Is Jules Sanders likely to be at home, do you know?” Ben asked when they finally reached the top of the stairs.

  Archie nodded. “Jules works from home. He has a huge conservatory at the back of his house that is very similar to yours, Beatrice. He should be there, and will be more than happy to see you both, I am sure of it.”

  “Thank you,” Beatrice murmured, but didn’t really think that Archie had heard her because he had already vanished in the opposite direction. They watched him disappear into the gloom before they quietly made their way out of the building.

  “For an elderly gent, he certainly does walk quickly,” Beatrice mused wryly.

  “Let’s go around to Jules Sanders’ house while we are here. Church Road is not too far away. We can drop by before we pick up Maud,” Ben suggested as he handed Beatrice into his carriage and climbed aboard behind her.

  She watched Ben pat his pocket too check that he still had the paper before he picked up the reins and turned the carriage around.

  “He seems like an affable chap,” she sighed as she studied the rows of houses they passed.

  “Yes. He certainly seemed to take Brian Mottram’s death in his stride,” Ben replied. It took him a couple of minutes to realise that she was staring at him. “What?”

  He turned the carriage into Church Road, the first address on the list, and looked back at her. “What?” he repeated when she didn’t appear inclined to confide in him.

  “One thing that does strike me as odd,” she shivered. “I have never seen Archibald Harrington in my life, and he has certainly never been to Brantley Manor while I have been there.”

  “Yes, you said that your uncle didn’t have visitors,” Ben sighed as he studied the empty street around them.

  “So how did Archibald Harrington know that my uncle had a conservatory that is just like the one in Jules Sanders’ yard?”

  He opened his mouth to reply only to close it again with a snap. He stared at her and thought about that for a moment.

  “Where is everyone?” Beatrice sighed as she studied the empty street, seemingly oblivious to his stunned disbelief.

  “I don’t know. I don’t like it, Beatrice, I have to admit,” Ben replied quietly, and wasn’t sure if he meant the road, or Archibald Harrington’s knowledge of Brantley Manor.

  He shared a look with Beatrice and temporarily pushed their suspicions to one side while they began to study house names.

  “What’s the address?”

  “Rydal Hove,” Ben replied as he drew the carriage to a halt. “It’s this one.” He nodded to the large semi-detached house beside them and climbed down.

  She quickly blanked out the unease that had settled around her, and accepted the hand Ben held out as she stepped down.

  “I don’t like this,” she whispered when Ben stood back to wait for someone to answer his knock.

  “It is very quiet around here, isn’t it?” He frowned at the door and listened carefully, but could hear no sound of movement inside.

  “Let’s try around the back,” Beatrice suggested, and followed a clearly reluctant Ben around to the back yard.

  The gate was unlocked and opened to reveal a reasonable sized yard, most of which was taken up by a huge conservatory that had been added to the back of the house. Beatrice studied the veritable jungle inside as she made her way to the back door, and shuddered as she thought about what awaited her at home. Even through the glass she could see some of the same kind of plants her uncle used, and wondered if she should ask Mr Sanders if he wanted her uncle’s old specimens to add to his own collection.

  She lifted her hand to knock only to jump in alarm when Ben suddenly grabbed her hand. The dark look on his face warned her that something was wrong, and she watched him look pointedly at the door. The small hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she swallowed nervously as she watched him lift one finger and push gently against the glass panel.

  She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak as she watched the door swing silently open. The splintered wood around the lock suddenly crumbled free and fell to the floor at their feet.

  “Let me go first,” Ben whispered.

  “You are not going in there, surely to goodness?” She stared in horror at him when he sidled around her, and peered into the kitchen.

  “There may be someone inside who needs help,” he replied carefully.

  If he was honest, he would have preferred it if Beatrice remained outside but knew that it was safest if she stayed with him. At least if she was right behind him then he knew she was alright.

  He took one step into the kitchen and stopped to listen. Silence greeted him.

  “Hello?” His voice echoed around the empty room and, in spite of the fact that the warm summer sunshine had made the temperature outside reasonably warm, inside the house was cold and damp, and more than a little unwelcoming.

  “We need to fetch a constable,” Beatrice whispered nervously. “I don’t like this.”

  “We need to find out if someone needs the doctor first, Beatrice. We don’t want to just report a break-in only for the constable to find someone on death’s door.”

  “Hello? Is anyone home?” She called and prayed that nobody was.

  When there was still no answer, they quietly made their way into the hallway. The door to the right of them opened to reveal a small, yet tidy sitting room which, from the look of the thick layer of dust over every surface, hadn’t been used in a long time. The room beside it overlooked the road out front, and was also unoccupied, yet neat and tidy. Opposite that was another door.

  Ben quietly pushed it open and stared at the mess that greeted him. He wasn’t sure if it was because the chaos within the room was in stark contrast to the almost pristine neatness of the rest of the house, but something warned him that they were not going to like what they were going to find inside this particular room.

  Aware that Beatrice was clutching his jacket, he quite purposefully blocked her from entering the room behind him as he stepped forward to peer around the door. The room was very similar to Matthew’s study back at Brantley Manor in that every surface was literally covered with papers, pamphlets, diagrams and books. However, in addition to the paperwork, there was a large bench across the far wall that was laden with a huge variety of plants in all stages of cultivation.

  At first, having seen Matthew’s study, he didn’t think that there was anything amiss. He just assumed that all botanists preferred to work in such chaos. However, once he had moved deeper into the room, he spotted several large boot marks printed on the papers that were scattered across the floor and knew that something was not right. In addition to that, some of the papers on the desk had clearly been dislodged and had cascaded down the open drawers to rest in a haphazard jumble on the floor.

  “Someone has been through here,” Ben sighed and glanced sideways at Beatrice when she moved to stand beside him.

  “They have broken into the house, but have only ransacked the office.” She glanced at him. “They were looking for something.”

  “Looks like it. Just don’t touch anything.” His eyes met and held hers. “I wonder where Jules Sanders is.”
<
br />   For one brief moment, Beatrice didn’t want to know where he was. She was almost too afraid to find him.

  “I don’t like this, Ben. Let’s get out of here.” She stepped back into the hallway and turned to look at Ben, when something caught her eye.

  There, in the small space between the door and the jamb, something big and dark blocked the light.

  She tugged on the back of Ben’s jacket but refused to let go. When he turned to look at her, she pointed toward the door and mouthed, ‘Jules Sanders’. Their eyes met and held for a moment before Ben turned around and sauntered casually into the room.

  “Don’t look,” he growled once he had taken a quick look behind the door. He closed his eyes against the sight of the corpse of who he presumed was Jules Sanders, hanging from the back of the door from his own tie. The purple colour of the dead man’s face warned Ben that he had been killed some time ago, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the murder had taken place on the same day as Brian Mottram’s death.

  Beatrice, who was not used to doing what she was told, immediately moved to stand beside Ben and glanced at what was on the other side of the door.

  She immediately wished she hadn’t. Her stomach began to churn.

  “I told you not to look,” Ben chided. He tried to draw her into his arms but she pulled away and hurried out into the hall. Rather than stop there, she continued to walk until she was out in the yard again where she stood for a moment, and drew in several large deep breaths in a desperate attempt to quell the sickness that loomed.

  Ben joined her a moment later. “We need to report this to the police.”

  “What do we tell them, Ben? I mean, they are going to ask us why we are here. Mark told us to stay away and leave the investigating to him. We have gone against his orders and meddled anyway. Now look what’s happened,” she sighed.

  This time, when Ben tried to tug her into his arms, she went willingly and stood within the warmth of his embrace for several minutes while she tried to quell the fine tremors that coursed through her.

  “We don’t have to tell them that we are investigating anything. We can tell them that we met with Archie who transcribed the notes for us. He told us that Jules would be available to tell us a little more about who cultivated the plant and why. Mark cannot object to us finding out what we can about the plant seeing as it is in your study,” Ben assured her. “After all, dead bodies have started to appear since that plant turned up. We have to know just how much danger you are in just by having it in your house.”