The Ghosts of Ardenthwaite (The Northminster Mysteries Book 5)

by Harriet Smart

  “Perhaps, perhaps; I do not really know what brought it on,” she said.

  “If you were to try to find the cause of it,” Giles went on, noting a small degree of fluster in her last reply, “it might bring some relief to you. An explanation is not a great comfort, but it is something, perhaps?”

  “I really do not understand what you mean,” she said. “I do not wish to look for causes. It is painful enough as it is to be faced with a brother who can behave so violently.”

  “Forgive me,” said Giles, sensing the full force of her deflection. She was, he concluded, anxious to condemn Bickley and Bickley alone. He supposed she was motivated by those joint business ventures she had mentioned. She would presumably profit if her partner were hanged. It was all very convenient.

  “Assuming the boy recovers,” he said, after a moment, “what do you intend to do with him?”

  “Ah, you see,” she said, “that is why I was so very pleased to see you, Mr Peters. I was hoping you might help me – help him, in fact. I get the impression that you have certain connections that might be of use in such an affair, where discretion is paramount.”

  He nodded, certain now that his true identity was known to her.

  “I will do what I can,” he said. “But you must understand, ma’am, there may be limits to how I can help you.”

  “Of course,” she said. “So what would you advise?”

  “I think we should wait to see what Mr Frazer says,” said Giles. “I’ll go up now and see what progress he is making.”

  She let him go, and it was with some relief that he found Carswell alone with the boy. He had just sent the servants away for supplies and was sitting on the bed gently cleaning his wounds.

  “We shall be done in a moment or two,” said Carswell. “And then the laudanum will help you.”

  Edmund nodded, gulping down his pain and then looked enquiringly at Giles.

  “This is Major Vernon,” said Carswell. “Tom’s uncle.”

  “But Mr Peters, while we are here,” said Giles, drawing up a chair to the bedside. “I know you don’t want to talk much now, Edmund, but can you tell us anything of what happened? Who attacked you?”

  “It was Bickley,” said Edmund and then grimaced at the memory. “I wish I had never – but he was – he was kissing her and –” he went on, breathing hard, and struggling with the words. “I could have just run away but it made me so angry!”

  “Your mother?” Giles said. “He was kissing your mother?”

  “It was more than that. It was – well, I think you know what I mean. It was vile. So I tried to stop him and he just threw me on the ground and kicked me and started at me with his riding crop. And my mother didn’t say or do anything to stop him. She simply stood there. Why didn’t she do anything? I don’t understand it. What did I do wrong?” He was half in tears now.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Edmund,” said Giles.

  “And then,” Edmund went on. “when I managed to get away, I ran to the ice house, but he still followed me, and then –” His distress overcame him and he broke down.

  “You should rest now,” Giles said. “We can talk again later.”

  Carswell finished dressing the boy’s wounds, and they left him to sleep.

  -o-

  Standing on the landing, Felix outlined Edmund’s injuries to Major Vernon. Necessarily, they spoke quietly.

  “He’s got a couple of cracked ribs, as well as extensive bruising, and welts – he will recover, if he is carefully looked after. But should he be here?”

  “That,” said Major Vernon, “is the question.”

  “Does she know who you are?”

  “I am pretty sure she does. But she is pretending she does not. That suits her better. She was anxious to point the finger at her brother, though.”

  “Why?”

  “She senses her ship is sinking? She is salvaging what she can. She thinks that rescuing the boy will buy her credit and put her in a good negotiating position with us.”

  “And will it?”

  “What do you think?” Major Vernon said.

  “No,” said Felix.

  “Quite right,” said Major Vernon. “But it will do no harm to give her the impression that something might be done for her. I need a great deal more from her anyway, and the more pliant she is, the better. She’s not said a word about her half-brother, which I find interesting.”

  “Do you think she may have taken his side?”

  “It’s possible,” said Major Vernon. “Now, about Edmund – could he be moved somewhere, and if so, when?”

  “Tomorrow morning, perhaps, assuming there are no complications overnight. Where should we take him, though? Given that the mother does seem complicit, we can hardly take him back to the palace. To allow your lover to assault and abduct your own child – it really does beggar belief!”

  “I wondered if we might take him to Ardenthwaite, at least in the first instance. But perhaps somewhere in town might be safer. Whatever, he needs to be away from here. I can’t think it will be long before Bickley comes to see his sister and have it out with her.”

  “Holbroke?” said Felix.

  “That’s an excellent idea,” said Major Vernon. “And we will concoct a story for the parents that he was found injured in the park having run away from home. Perhaps he was even trying to find his friend Tom – remember how they talked of his going there?” Felix nodded and Major Vernon went on, “We want Mrs Hughes to think she has got away with it for now. Miss Bickley will like that, and so will Bickley for that matter. Yes, it will help us along greatly to have a little subterfuge. Now, I had better go and report to the lady of the house, and you had better see how your patient is!”

  -o-

  Before he returned to Miss Bickley, Giles wrote a couple of messages and went into the servant’s hall, wondering how easily he could persuade any of them to carry them. If they were afraid of Miss Bickley, it was unlikely. Fortunately, he had ten shillings on him, an adequate bribe for the very young housemaid he found darning her stockings by the fire. She was happy to go an errand for him for such a sum.

  If she did betray him to her mistress, it was not such a calamity. For surely Miss Bickely would have suspected he would take the opportunity to send for reinforcements. Perhaps, indeed, that was part of her plan to bring her brother down.

  “Mr Frazer will be able to join us for dinner, I hope?” said Miss Bickley, when he returned to the drawing room. “I usually eat at eight. I have sent Stevens to ask him.”

  “He would be glad to, I’m sure. The boy is a great deal more settled now,” Giles said, “and not in any danger.”

  “Oh, thank goodness!” she said. “May I offer you a glass of wine?”

  Giles declined, feeling he would need to keep his wits as sharp as possible.

  “You are not worried your brother will come looking for the boy?” he said, when they had settled down by the fire.

  “No, George never comes here,” she said.

  “Never? Even in such exceptional circumstances?”

  “I don’t think he would dare,” she said. He wondered if the opposite was the case, and this was all an act of provocation.

  “I do not like you to take such risks,” Giles said. “I am going to arrange for the boy to be taken away from here tomorrow morning. Mr Frazer thinks he will be able to travel.”

  “Taken where?” she said.

  “Holbroke.”

  “Lord Rothborough’s place?” she said with a note of surprise.

  “He is a friend.”

  “You must be a very intimate friend to take such a liberty.”

  “Mr Frazer also has a connection with the family that goes back some years.”

  “Oh, Mr Frazer, yes,” she said with a smile. “What a very handsome young man – and so talented!”

  “I thought,” said Giles, “given that this business seems liable to make a great deal of unpleasant noise, as the boy is from such a prominent
family, that in order to keep the scandal to a minimum, another story be put about as to how the boy came to be at Holbroke. An innocent one, where there is really nothing to blame other than young Master Hughes’ adventurous spirit.”

  “An interesting idea.”

  “You asked me for discretion,” said Giles.

  “I did,” she said, and sipped her wine. “What sort of story?”

  “That he ran away from home to find his friend who was visiting Holbroke. That he was found injured in the park by Lady Maria Haraald herself.”

  “That is quite a tale,” she said. “Are you sure such a thing could take?”

  “I think so, if it comes from me. And I’m prepared to do it, to protect the reputations of the various ladies involved. Mrs Hughes, of course, but more importantly that of Miss Bickley. What you did for the boy was noble, and I don’t want you to suffer for that. You have told me yourself the monstrous nature of your brother’s character. This falsehood will pacify him and make your part in it seem inoffensive. He will be happy, don’t you think, to hear himself distanced from all this?”

  “True,” she said. “It is prudent not to rouse his ire. I’m honoured by your concern for me, as well, sir.”

  “It is the least I can do,” he said. “I worry that your honesty and compassion has made you vulnerable.”

  “How gallant,” she said.

  “It’s not gallantry,” he said. “To be frank, ma’am, given that you perhaps know what my business is –” She nodded and he went on. “Then you will understand it is my business to maintain peace in Northminster. There are lines that ought not to be crossed, as you yourself have pointed out, and these lines have been crossed recently due to a dispute between two parties.”

  “You are very perceptive, sir.”

  “But there are other matters, which, if they are conducted in an orderly way, are beyond my remit,” he went on. “I have no interest in upsetting unnecessary apple-carts.”

  “I read you correctly, then,” she said. “I had heard differently, but when you presented yourself the other day, I felt –” She smiled. “That you might be able to help me.”

  He felt relieved that his bait had taken.

  “Of course, I would expect a little discretion from you on the matter,” he said.

  “Yes, yes, of that you can be certain. Are you sure you won’t have a glass of wine, sir? I feel we should be drinking a small toast to our new association,” she said, getting up and going to the decanter. He shook his head again. She herself took a small glass and then flitted over to the window and looked out.

  “Are you expecting someone?”

  “I did ask someone to call, yes,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind,” she added with a flutter. “He will be of great interest to you, I think.”

  Giles smiled, but felt uneasy. He wondered who she meant, and a most unpleasant idea occurred to him who it might be. He found himself glancing about the room wondering what he might use to protect himself if necessary. He was not armed, but he was certain that whatever visitors arrived that night would be. He thought of Carswell and Edmund upstairs, and wondered if he could get the boy to safety sooner than the next morning. Perhaps the Vicar might take them in. He hoped that the young housemaid had not been dilatory about delivering his letters, and that their contents were being acted upon. The potential for this situation becoming a bloody trap was not lost on him.

  “Would that be your half-brother, ma’am?” he ventured.

  “You are perceptive!” she said, laying her hand on her breast, as if he had solved a clue in some parlour riddle. At she did so he noticed that the tip of her ring finger was missing, and he realised where he had seen such a thing before. It had been her hand curled about Kate’s door, trying to see who was in her room. “Yes, we have a little business to talk over.”

  “How interesting.”

  At that moment, there was the sound of a horse outside, and she went again to the window and looked out. Then, without another word, she left the room and went to meet her visitor in the hall. Giles remained in his chair, and tried to cultivate the manner of a police officer who was prepared to turn a blind eye when it suited him.

  She returned a few moments later with Merriam Waites, alias Hickman, who seeing Giles lolling in his chair by the fire, said, “What the devil is he doing here?”

  “So you two gentlemen know each other?” Miss Bickley said.

  “What has he said to you?” Waites said.

  “Don’t worry, Merriam,” she said. “He is quite in our corner. Now, will you have a glass of wine?”

  “In our corner?” Waites said. “How?”

  “Now Merriam, we agreed, did we not, that if we are to bring matters to the conclusion we desire, then we must turn where we must for help. And Mr Peters” – Waites snorted with disgust at that name – “is being very obliging.”

  “You’re a fool, Susan,” he said. “A very great fool.”

  “Wait until you hear what I have to say,” she said. “Sit down, won’t you?”

  He glanced warily at Giles.

  “I’d listen to her, if I were you,” Giles said. “Given the trouble you are in. It’s only a matter of time before Mostyn or the widow Parham start talking. This may be your last chance.”

  “There,” said Miss Bickley, rather as if one of her dogs had performed a neat trick.

  So Waites sat down, or rather perched on the edge of his chair, and Giles wondered whether he was carrying a knife or a pistol, or both.

  “So?” he said. “Get on with it.”

  “I have made a new will,” Miss Bickley said. “Entirely in your favour, Merriam. This house and its land, the brickfields, my properties in Northminster, which as I am sure you know are quite extensive.”

  “Very nice,” said Waites. “But what good is that to me? You will probably live to a hundred.”

  “Then your children may have the benefit of it. If you were minded to marry and have some children. After all, it would not be difficult to get a nice little wife if you were living here.”

  “I’m not living here with you,” he said.

  “I thought I might go to the continent,” said Miss Bickley. “For my health. And leave the house safely in the hands of my heir. Yes?”

  “All the property?”

  “Yes. I should want an income of course, but the business would be yours.”

  “A fine tale,” said Waites. “George would never let –”

  “George has –” she began and then sighed. “George has –”

  “You’re giving him up?” Waites said, and jerked his hand towards Giles. “To him?”

  “Regrettably, yes,” said Miss Bickley. “Hence the need for new arrangements.”

  “I see,” said Waites, sitting back and considering. “Well, it’s an interesting proposition.”

  “I know how much you have always loved this house,” she said. “And I have improved it a great deal. Furnishing and fittings included.”

  Waites looked again at Giles.

  “And he will cost me something, I suppose?”

  “Naturally,” Giles said.

  “You can come to an amicable arrangement in time, I dare say,” said Miss Bickley getting up and filling a wine glass. She took it to her brother. “Wouldn’t it be charming for you to be the master here? I remember how you used to break into the gardens and steal the flowers.”

  “One-off lump sum, not a percentage,” said Waites getting up and strolling across the room. He stroked the marble chimney piece with an appreciative hand. “Those are my terms. I’m not putting myself under any long term obligation.” He drained his glass and went to refill it.

  Giles got up and said, “That may not be possible. As I said, there is plenty of evidence of your hand at work, and it’s never cheap to bury the truth. You may have to take what you can get, and your sister’s offer is more than generous given the circumstances.”

  “And what’s to say I won’t cut your throat thi
s very minute and bury the truth that way? Much cheaper.”

  “That would be extremely foolish,” said Giles. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” said Waites. “This is all too –” He broke off and refilled his glass again.

  “I am glad you like my claret, Merriam,” said Miss Bickley. “The cellar here is excellent for keeping wine. I should show you over the house.”

  “You’ve really changed your will?” he said.

  “Oh yes. Signed and sealed. All in order. Would you like to see it?” she said, going to an ornate cabinet on a stand and unlocking it. “I keep it in here, with all my important papers.”

  Despite everything, Giles found he had to admire her audacity. Waites was looking intensely at her as she calmly sorted through the papers and brought them to the table, like an animal watching its prey. Giles could not help remembering the stench of the attic where the Colonel had been strung up. Had Waites been there to supervise the Colonel’s execution?

  “There you are,” said Miss Bickley, turning up the lamp on the table.

  Waites sat down at the table and began to read through the document. Miss Bickley glanced over to Giles and smiled, as if extremely pleased with him. He managed to smile back, though he did not much feel like it, realising that this appalling charade utterly depended on her belief in his corruptibility. That she had taken him so readily at his word had surprised him, but perhaps in this shadowy world of hers, there were no moral boundaries that money and power could not erase.

  As Waites read, and she walked about her drawing room showing off her figure, perhaps as she had been instructed to do at her finishing school all those long years ago, Giles took the time to survey the chess board as she had arranged it. She had lured Waites there to tempt him with a gift of her property and her power, and it seemed that he was succumbing fast to the idea. She had Giles on show as the turn-coat policeman, to protect her in the short term and to show Merriam the business was safe in the long term. Upstairs she had the Bishop’s son, and although she had assured him that Bickley would not come to the house, he now felt certain that was her intention all along. Edmund was bait.