Chapter Thirty-four
Felix lay on the couch at the end of Edmund’s bed. The boy had drifted into a comfortable sleep and Felix, stretched out by the fire, felt drowsy himself. The old butler had come in to tell him he would fetch him when dinner was served, and he presumed that Major Vernon would soon come upstairs to see how Edmund was. In the meantime he closed his eyes, and found himself thinking of Eleanor Blanchfort with her nightgown half-falling off, telling him in a husky whisper that she had dreamt he was her husband. It was the most intoxicating memory and in his relaxed state, he found himself transforming it into a fancy, where he gathered her up into his arms and carried her to bed.
The sound of the door creaking open made him wake, and realise he had been asleep. He sat up quickly, startled and confused as to where he was. He twisted about to see who had entered and saw a white-haired man looming over the bed with a blade glinting in his hand, bending over Edmund, his arm raised and about to attack.
Felix sprang up in alarm and launched himself over the foot of the bed, throwing himself across the bed in a wild attempt to protect Edmund from attack. The man roared with surprise and fury, and grabbed him by the collar, and in another instant, Felix found himself locked in a fierce grip, with the blade of the knife pressed against his neck.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t cut your throat?”
Felix could not think of any.
Edmund, groggy with laudanum, was now awake and sitting up. He was gazing at them, as he was unable to tell if this was reality or a nightmare.
“Yes?” said the man, tightening his grip so that Felix felt he would soon be unable to breathe. “What do you say?”
“If you kill me, you will hang,” Felix managed to say. “You don’t know who I am or who my friends are, but I warn you they will show you no quarter. Are you ready to hang?”
He had meant to sound defiant but at the same time felt certain that this was the worst argument he could have come upon, and that his delivery sounded less than convincing. He closed his eyes and tried instead to determine if the man did slit his throat, if there was any way he could save himself.
“Oh, fine words,” he said.
“Don’t kill him, sir,” Edmund said in a dry little whisper. “He doesn’t know anything, Mr Bickley – I haven’t said anything to them, I swear it!”
“Why would I believe a filthy little runt like you?” Bickley said. “No, first I’m going to kill him, and then I’m going to kill you. Oh, your mama, she will cry and cry, won’t she, when she hears you are dead?” Edmund began to struggle out of bed. “No, no, don’t try anything, boy, or I shall make you die slowly, and then you will be sorry. Stay where you are!”
“Do as he says,” Felix said. He could feel the pressure of the blade more firmly against his skin. He was glad to see Edmund obediently retreating back into the bed and drawing up the covers over him.
“Downstairs,” said Bickley. “I want a word with my sister.”
He began to manoeuvre Felix towards the door, and Felix felt he could do nothing but go along with him. He felt his body to be quite devoid of strength, and his mind was equally empty of any useful ideas that might help him extricate himself.
As they shuffled out across the threshold and onto the dark landing, it occurred to him that he was quite unable to bear the thought of death, and so he began to struggle in an attempt to free himself, but with little success. All this earned him was a violent kick in the back from Bickley’s knee, which left him groaning and winded.
But when he opened his eyes again, having screwed up his face in pain, down the passageway he saw a moving light and heard the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs.
It was Major Vernon carrying a lamp. As he approached and saw him locked in Bickley’s grip, he carefully set down the lamp, and with his hands up, took a few more steps towards them.
“Let him go,” Major Vernon said. “It isn’t worth it, Bickley. Let him go.”
“Or what?” said Bickley. “I’ve a mind to fillet him and then you! I have had enough of your nose in my business!”
“George, let him go,” said Miss Bickley who had come up in Major Vernon’s wake. “Let’s all be civil, I beg you.”
“You beg me, do you?” said Bickley. “Oh, very nice. I’d like to see you begging properly sister, that I would –” And then he broke off, seeing another figure appearing at the top of the stairs. “What the devil is he doing here?”
It took Felix a moment to recognise him. It was Merriam Waites.
“Business, George,” said Miss Bickley. “Just business. Now let go of Mr Frazer and come downstairs. I’ve a very nice Madeira.”
Merriam Waites began to laugh.
“Oh Christ, Susan, you are the –” Waites said, but could not continue for his amusement.
“What’s so amusing, Merriam?” said Bickley.
“You!”
“What the devil do you mean by that?” said Bickley, letting go of Felix. He began to advance on Waites, knife blade flashing. “Explain yourself!”
“I’m not sure I can be bothered,” said Waites, moving nimbly out of his way. “You senile old goat. Pretending you are saved to get a fuck from a Bishop’s wife!”
At the same time he whipped a blade of his own from a pocket, which he flashed and flourished in front of his brother with all the calmness of a flamboyant barber about to shave a customer. The two of them squared up to one another, performing a sort of dance, each with their knifes ready to seize the slightest opportunity to take the advantage.
“So was she worth it?” Waites went on, grinning.
Bickley gave a sort of muffled groan of fury and moved closer to his brother. Felix could see that Major Vernon was moving discreetly forward to attempt to intervene and disarm Bickley, a risky endeavour in a knife fight. He felt his stomach churning violently at the prospect of a bloody and possibly fatal outcome, and willed the Major to take care.
“I will kill you,” said Bickley. “I will. I should have done so long ago.”
From the corner of his eye, Felix noticed Miss Bickley retreating into the shadows, and he saw that Major Vernon had noticed this too. Suddenly Giles turned, caught her by the arm and pulled her forward to face her brothers. She gave a little shriek of surprise, and the two fighters were for a moment confounded.
“Put down your weapons!” Major Vernon said. “She is the source of all your trouble. Can’t you see, she has brought you here to make you destroy each other. Don’t fall for it!” With which he pushed her a little closer to the two men.
Bickley turned and looked at his sister, with a long quizzical glance. Miss Bickley was now struggling in Giles’ grip.
“Nonsense,” she said. “Will you let go of me!”
“She brought you here with something you both wanted. You, Waites, get the fake will and you, Bickley, get Edmund.”
“Fake will?” said Waites. “What do you mean –?”
“Did you really think she would leave you all this?” said Major Vernon. Bickley snorted with amusement.
“I was in earnest, Merriam,” said Miss Bickley. “Of course I was!”
“And when has she ever been straight about anything?” said Bickley. “Dear God above, I see it all now –”
“Don’t listen to him, George,” Miss Bickley went on. “How can you take his word against mine?”
“Because, sister, I know you. And I have been sold! And after everything I have done for you, after all these years –”
“Done for me?” exclaimed Miss Bickley. “Oh, I think you will find, George, that without me you would not have a coat to put on your back, let alone such a fancy one! No, indeed, you would have been dead from the drink and the gambling long ago. I have saved you, so many times, I cannot begin to count them. There would be nothing if I had not worked for it, if I had not seen to all the details, if I had not imposed the necessary discipline. If I had not taken you in hand when I did, then the Lord only knows what would h
ave become of you. You owe me everything, my boy, everything!”
Waites was now laughing again.
“Oh, that’s telling you, George!” he said.
“Hold your tongue, Merriam,” said Miss Bickley. “A little gratitude from you would not go amiss.”
“When you are palming me a fake will?” he said, his amusement turning to anger.
“That is nonsense,” she said.
“It is not,” Major Vernon said. “Put down your knife, Waites. And you, Bickley. It will make it all go better for you.”
But Bickley shook his head. He stood for a moment examining his blade, and then before anyone could do anything he lunged towards Miss Bickley and the Major.
Major Vernon dragged her out of the way, and attempted to shield her, but he was too late – the blade went in at her neck, catching the carotid artery, and she collapsed onto the floor, blood cascading from her throat.
Felix dashed over, and threw himself onto his knees, ripping off his cravat in order to improvise a tourniquet, but even as he leant over her he knew it was too late. She was dead.
He glanced up, aware of a fierce scuffle going on. Waites was retreating down the stairs, attempting to run away, but Bickley had dashed after him, and pushed him to the ground on the half landing. Felix, leaving Miss Bickley’s corpse on the floor, ran to assist Major Vernon, who was attempting to stop him attacking Waites.
A terrible struggle began as they tried to pull away Bickley, who was crouching astride Waites and stabbing him repeatedly, in a frenzy that suggested years of frustration. Waites lay writhing on the floor and then ceased to move entirely. At last Bickley stopped resisting their attempts to pull him back, and wilted in their grasp, leaving his knife stuck in Waites’ body. He crumpled in a dead faint, bleeding copiously. Waites had managed to stab him back.
“Can you save him?” said Major Vernon, as Felix pressed his hands to the wounds he could discover.
“With any luck,” said Felix. “Is he –?”
Major Vernon crouched over Waites, checking for signs of life. He shook his head.
-o-
A little before midnight, still in their bloodstained clothing, Giles and Carswell found themselves sitting by a dwindling fire in the late Miss Bickley’s drawing room, eating bread and cheese and drinking strong tea. Carswell looked utterly exhausted.
He had done everything he could to keep Bickley alive, and had apparently succeeded, although he had been the most difficult patient. Giles had had to assist him by holding him down as the wounds were stitched and dressed. Eventually opium had worked its magic on him and he lay upstairs, in a satisfactory state. How long it would be before he would be available to be charged and then tried, was another matter.
Reinforcements had eventually arrived from Northminster, and the bodies of Susan Bickley and Merriam Waites had been moved to the village lock-up and were waiting to be transported back to the city for post mortem. All in all, it would create a very strong case against Bickley and there was no doubt that he would hang, but Giles felt the full weight of failure on his shoulders, as he sat there watching the embers. Again and again he turned over in his mind what he had said and done, and wondered if there might have been some better way that would have led to three prisoners in the Marlingford lock-up, instead of two cadavers. If he had only moved Miss Bickley out of Bickley’s reach, if he had reacted more promptly and anticipated his fury, then...
“I want a clean shirt,” Carswell said, breaking the silence. “And a decent bath and a brandy. And –”
“Holt will be here tomorrow first thing. And Peterson. I think you should take a day or two’s leave.”
“I should go and check on Edmund,” said Carswell.
“He was sleeping soundly when I went in a quarter of an hour ago.”
“Then I should go and see Bickley,” he gestured towards the door and sighed. “I have never felt less enthusiasm about keeping a man alive,” he said. “I have no pity for him. After seeing what he did –” he swallowed hard. “Thank the Lord, Edmund stayed in his room. If he had seen all that...”
“You did all you could for Bickley,” Giles said. “There is no need to reproach yourself. That is my business, I think.”
“No,” said Carswell. “How else could it have played out? She lit the spark by bringing them both under the same roof. Something was bound to happen. That is what she was counting on, surely, and you saw it.”
“When it was too late,” said Giles. “And perhaps I goaded him. Did I?”
“They were all beyond the point of listening to reason,” Carswell said, heaving himself up from this chair. “They evidently all loathed each other at heart, and perhaps it was just a matter of time. The truth is that you have brought them all down, and if Bickley survives to stand trial, then you will be perfectly vindicated. So I shall go and make sure he is comfortable, though it sticks in my craw!”
Chapter Thirty-five
At first light the next morning, lacking any other horse to hand, Giles rode George Bickley’s superb grey into Northminster. He had left it in the stables at Marlingford. He took him to The Black Bull – where the combination of a beautiful horse and his own sorry, blood-stained appearance caused much astonishment in the stable lad and Mr Wilkes.
Having washed, shaved and changed his clothes, he went up to the Minster Precincts, stopping first at the Treasurer’s House.
On his being announced, Sally, who was sitting frowning over her paperwork, leapt up at the sight of him.
“We have had the strangest news from Oxford,” she said, and resisted his attempt to kiss her, in a most uncharacteristic manner.
“Oh,” said Giles. “I think I know what that might be.”
“You do?” she said. “You know about Edward and Emma?”
“Tell me, what is the news?” he said.
“Have you a hand in this? Have you and she –”
“What was the news?”
“That it is broken off! And Lamb is – oh dear, well, he is not happy. You are lucky he has gone out. I have never seen him so – I tried to defend her, to defend you, of course, but it clear that Edward is miserable. Oh, Giles, what have you done?”
For a moment he could not speak. Sally stood there, her arms folded, waiting for his confession, and he could think of nothing to say. All he could think was how wretched Emma would be.
“Are you engaged to her?” she said.
“No,” he said. “All we have decided is that she would break with Edward. That was all.”
“All? ‘We have decided’?” she said. “That sounds as if you have quite committed yourself.”
“Yes, I have, after a fashion. I don’t pretend that we know whether we can marry. After all, I’m no position to marry, and she understands that.”
“And you have made her break it off on such terms?”
“That was her decision.”
“How could it be? You have put pressure on her, of some sort. You must certainly have made love to her, and goodness knows what else. I know what you are like!”
“No, Sally, nothing like that. But we have been frank with each other. Truly, I’m sorry you have found out this way. I was going to tell you, in time, but it seems –”
“Why are you not engaged to her, then?” she said throwing up her hands. “Did you not offer? To make a woman throw over such an eligible match and not offer marriage? I don’t understand.”
“I told you: I’m in no position to marry and she understands that.”
“So what was your intention?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Truly I don’t. I can’t expect anyone else to understand, and I know this seems so shabby, and I know how painful for you and Lamb it must be, for which I can only apologise, but she is...”
“You do love her, then?”
“Dear Lord, yes,” he said. “More than anything. And she loves me, poor creature. Her judgement is usually rather better.”
Sally twisted her fingers togeth
er for a moment and then stretched out and gently put her hands on his shoulders, as if searching for support.
“There will be such a storm. Such a storm.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Lamb will come round, I dare say,” she said. “But it is going to take time.”
“I know. I will talk to him. You do not have to defend me. You must take his part, that is as it should be.”
She squeezed his shoulders a little and almost shook him in her agitation.
“Oh Giles, I do wish it could have been any other way –”
“I know, I’m very sorry, but I cannot give her up.”
“Even if you will not marry her? How odd this all is! But then, you are odd, Master Giles, you always were and you always will be. I remember old Nancie saying that of you. She thought you were a changeling.” She broke from him and walked across the room. “What will be, will be!” she said with a great sigh, her back to him, as if she could not quite bear to turn and look at him.
“I must go,” he said. “I only looked in to say that we have found the Bishop’s son. Could you tell Tom and Celia that he is quite safe?”
“Well, that is something, I suppose,” she said.
He left, feeling the chilling breath of Sally’s displeasure and disappointment, a far worse thing than the momentary sting of her anger. At the same time, he wished he could at once make his way to Oxford, go to Emma and take her into his arms and comfort her. He ached for her, as he had never done before. It felt as if the first great trial of their affections had begun, and he was by no means certain that they would survive the trial, no matter how strong their feelings were. The whole world seemed set against them.
He had scarcely got through the door of the Palace when the Bishop came hurrying out of his library to greet him.
“You have news, sir?” he said.
“Good news. We have found Edmund and he is quite safe. A little worse for wear, but –”
“Oh, thank the Lord! But what happened – do you know? What has he said? I take it he did run away for some reason.”
The Ghosts of Ardenthwaite (The Northminster Mysteries Book 5) Page 31
