“No, sir.”
“And you never thought they were too steep or dangerous?”
“No, sir. I go up and down them more times a day than I care to say, so I suppose I would know.”
“And who cleans them and when?” said Felix. “Are they just swept or scrubbed down with soap and water?”
“One of the girls brushes them down every day,” said Jacob. “And they do wash ’em once a week, because I have to dry them, and Mrs Hope is very particular that they are dry in case of accidents.”
“And when does that happen?”
“That would be tomorrow, sir.”
“So they were not washed yesterday?”
“No, sir,” said Jacob. “They were not.”
“Where are my clothes?” said Felix, looking around him. “I must get to Holbroke.”
“I’ll get them, sir. I brushed your black coat. You won’t be wanting the drab linen, sir.”
Ten minutes later Mr Carswell chose to pay Felix a visit. Jacob, who was clearly enjoying his promotion to gentleman’s servant, was unnecessarily helping Felix into the same black coat and doing it with much solemn fuss. Bodley had obviously given him careful instructions. Mr Carswell looked on in disapproving silence until Jacob had finished and Felix dismissed him.
“You will forget who you are,” said Mr Carswell.
“He just gave me some valuable information,” said Felix.
“About what?”
“Mrs Vernon’s death, which strikes me as more and more curious.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That it was not an accident.”
“Of course it was an accident,” Mr Carswell said. “A dreadful one, but an accident.”
“I shall only say it was that when I see the evidence for myself. There is too much awry in that house at present to put labels on such serious matters without any consideration. There is something wrong about this.”
He was making for the door, but Mr Carswell blocked his way.
“You are in a state of distress – you feel this strongly, of course, but you must accept the hand of fate, and the will of God, Felix, and not ask such questions. It was an accident.”
“I do not think Major Vernon will think so.”
“Of course he will not! But you must not aid him in thinking so, or you will be doing a wicked thing! He has just lost his wife – he will be in a state of inconsolable distress, and your duty, as his friend, is to steer him through this terrible passage of his life. You are to show him the path of Christian resignation. That is your only duty. No matter how much it pains you! This is not a time for questions, but for submission to the love and will of our Lord! He has taken her to Him and that is the only answer, the only comfort that there can be in such times.”
Felix shook his head throughout this speech.
“If we do not ask questions, we have nothing!” he exclaimed. “We are nothing. We might as well be vegetables. And I shall help Major Vernon, as I see fit, Papa. He is my friend – at least I hope he might regard me as such – and I know that he will feel as I do on this: something is not right here.”
-0-
They had carried Mrs Vernon’s body into the great State Bedroom on the ground floor
“The custom is that it is reserved for members of the family,” Lord Rothborough said to Felix. “But hang custom. The girls said it must be done and they are right. This is too miserable a business to be bound by custom. Did you manage to sleep?”
“A little. And you, sir?”
“I never sleep much these days, even in the best of circumstances,” said Lord Rothborough.
“Have you seen Major Vernon this morning?”
“Only briefly. He is –” Lord Rothborough broke off. “He sat with her last night, and he is still with her now, I think. I will leave you. I will be in my business room if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
Lord Rothborough turned back along the enfilade. Felix opened the door and found himself not in the State Bedroom but a little ante-chamber, where sitting in a corner, on a low chair with a piece of work in her lap, sat Sukey. She rose at the sight of him, her work falling to the floor.
They met in the centre of the room, and he took both her hands and kissed them. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he felt if he did that he might never be able force himself to let go.
“Are you all right?” he said. She nodded and he saw her red-rimmed eyes. “What was she doing there?” he said. “On the back stairs?”
“I don’t know. I have been going over and over it, and I cannot think of a reason why.” She squeezed his hands.
“And Major Vernon?” he asked.
“He’s in there, with her. We sat there with her all night.”
“Then you must go and rest. No, better still, go and pack. You are going to Ardenthwaite. I don’t want you staying here.”
She shook her head.
“I won’t leave her yet,” she said, letting go off his hands. “And I can’t just go there like that, can I? The Major –”
“I will arrange it all. I want you away from here, Sukey. I want –”
She shook her head and pressed her finger to his lips.
“This is not the time,” she said. “Go in now. I will be here if I am needed.”
He nodded and went to the door.
The great bed had been draped in white linen while Mrs Vernon’s corpse lay covered completely by a finely embroidered white cloth. Some great vases of flowers had been brought into the room, as well as a pair of great candelabras, of which the candles were now burnt down to smoking stubs. The morning light came in through cracks in the drawn-down blinds.
Major Vernon was sitting by the bed, his hands knotted together and pressed to his mouth. He got to his feet rather stiffly, and greeted Felix with a nod.
“I am glad to see you.”
“I should have been here last night.”
“No, it was better you went to your people,” said Vernon. “And got some rest.”
“You should rest yourself, sir.”
“In time,” he said.
“Did you speak to the surgeon last night?”
“Yes, but it was not very enlightening. He said that it was likely that death was instantaneous but since we do not know when she fell, I do not give that much credence. I think he was trying to comfort me. From what I understand she may have lain there some time before she actually –”
“It is likely that she was unconscious and did not suffer too much,” Felix said. “That is usually the way with these cases.”
“But there is too much about this that I do not understand. Perhaps my suspicions are foolish but –”
“No, sir, it is troubling.”
Major Vernon exhaled.
“Thank God,” he murmured. “You have come to the same conclusion?”
“Given the circumstances, what has happened in this house recently, we ought to eliminate any other possibilities. We must ask all the questions, no matter how unpleasant.” He took a deep breath. “Apparently the stairs were not considered dangerous and were quite dry.”
“Yes,” said Major Vernon, “I have heard that too – and that they are well lit. Bodley told me so. So will you examine her now? And see if there is anything that does not seem consistent with an accident. Of course, you may tell me now that there is no way of clearly distinguishing between malicious intent and accident –”
“It is not the most straightforward area,” Felix said. “I will not lie to you, sir, but there may be some markers.” Major Vernon nodded. “And then there is the matter of circumstance. Mrs Connolly could give no reason for Mrs Vernon being on that staircase.”
“That was my first question. What was she doing there? And she was not intemperate, and I have never known her stumble or complain of light-headedness. Nor did she ever wear foolish shoes. Of course, she was delicate – you have said yourself that she was still somewhat undernourished but that would not be e
nough to make her fall.”
“She may have survived such a fall had she been stronger,” Felix felt he must say. “Her general debility cannot have aided her, I am afraid to say.”
“Will you make a start?” Major Vernon said, going to the window and pulling up the blind.
“Yes,” Felix said. “I can only make a superficial examination at present, of course.”
His hand trembled for a moment as he turned back the sheet and revealed her face. “I hope that will be enough, although it may not be.”
“Then you will do everything that needs to be done. I want the answer to this, Carswell,” said Major Vernon, drawing up the other blind. He returned to the bedside and looked down at her. Felix saw him swallow hard at the sight of her. He reached out to touch her cheeks, and then rapidly withdrew his hand, as he visibly mastered his emotion.
“There seems to be more bruising on her face than there was last night,” he said.
“Bruising will develop over the twenty four hours succeeding a fatality,” said Felix. “She was discovered at about eleven in the morning, I think?” Vernon nodded. “Then we will see more later, I’m afraid. But even now it gives a clear indication of how she fell and perhaps, if we look a little closer at the scalp –”
He leant over and tilted her head gently, looking for a fissure. Her hair was still pinned and fixed in the neat pair of fashionable bundled ringlets that had been a source of such pride for her, another sign of her recovery. In the asylum her hair had been cropped short for the purposes of hygiene and growing back her long hair was a vast pleasure for her. It was not easy to discern anything at first, but he persisted, knowing that the tiniest marks on the skull could conceal extensive trauma beneath. At length he found a long, thin, dark line of blood, a few hairs’ breadth in width, which ran from behind her left ear up to the apex of her crown. He sighed at the sight of it, for it meant that the concussion had been a profound one.
“I think we have it, sir,” he said. “You can just see it here,” he said, passing Major Vernon his hand lens. “That dark line.”
“And it means what precisely?”
“That there has been serious damage to the brain. The force of fall caused a severe sub-cranial haemorrhage which most likely caused her death. That is the only external sign of it. If one were to do a post-mortem examination then one might be able to say more.” He winced slightly at saying that. He had no wish to say to Major Vernon that he should do any such thing. “But that might be quite unnecessary.”
“It it the force of the fall I need to understand,” Major Vernon said. “How she could fall fast and hard enough to it to kill her? That surely is the other side of this question.”
“Yes,” Felix concurred.
“I want to look at that staircase,” said Major Vernon.
Five minutes later they were standing in the the narrow hallway, looking up the steep rise of twenty-five stone steps. High above them a cupola gave excellent light.
“And she was lying how, exactly?” said Major Vernon.
“I can show you, sir, better than I can say it,” said John, the footman who had first discovered her.“If you don’t think it a liberty?”
“Not at all.”
John sat down on the bottom step.
“It was like this, well, sort of – her head was down there, where my foot is, and then she was all twisted up and round, and her feet and her skirts all over and up there. I didn’t guess she was dead, I thought she might have passed out, so I put down my tray and went to try and help her. But she was past helping, I realised that soon as I tried to help her up. I am very sorry, sir. I did all I could, but it wasn’t enough. God rest her soul, sir, we can trust in that at least. ”
John got up from the step and for some moments they stood in silence, looking at the empty space that her body had occupied. Felix found himself in a state of uncomfortable agitation. He had no wish to make a picture of it in his mind but he knew he must, for all their sakes, not least that justice should be done for her. So he looked at the the steps with care and tried to work out how the fissure might have been caused.
Major Vernon broke the silence.
“And you heard no cry, nor anything like that?”
“No, sir. It was quite a shock, all in all, to find her there, in such a state. I think I cried out though. And the others came straight through, for we were all just going back to our work just after our dinner.”
“At about one o’clock, I understand?” said Major Vernon. “You sit down at noon, yes?”
“Yes, always.”
“And where were you going? Upstairs?”
“No, sir, just through that door there. I was going to the little drawing room There was a bell – her Ladyship, I think. I had to go because I’m the youngest, and I didn’t have the chance to finish my pudding. She usually rings just then because she wants her letters taken to catch the post at one.”
“And she was warm to the touch?” Felix asked.
“Yes, sir, I’m afraid so. I am very sorry sir, that I found her so, very sorry –” He broke off and glanced away in distress. “Poor lady.”
“Thank you, John,” said Major Vernon, his own voice strained with emotion. He reached out briefly and touched the man’s shoulder. “I shall be in your debt, always. You could have done nothing better than you did.”
John left them then, and the Major, after some struggle said, “So, Sukey says she left her resting in her room after a walk with Lady Maria, at about eleven, and then she is discovered at a little before one – that helps a little, does it not? Some time after noon seems most likely, for if all the staff are eating their mutton, there would be no cause for anyone to be on the staircase and see or hear anything because no-one in the family or their guests would ring for them because they knew they were at dinner and not to be disturbed.”
“Except Lady Rothborough.” Felix said.
“Who no doubt rings at five to one just to get them all up from the table and about their business again,” Major Vernon said. “As my mother always did.”
“So, a quiet time on this staircase,” said Felix, looking up the stairs to the landing above. “But why was she here at all? Did something distress her and she wanted Mrs Connolly? Perhaps she came down here trying to find her, rather than ring for her, knowing she would be at dinner.”
“You think she may have had some sort of attack, after Sukey left her?” Major Vernon said.
“It has happened before – though she was much better at dealing with it. She could have become agitated and in her panic lost her footing. If she was dizzy from distress, that might have been enough to send her toppling over.”
Major Vernon was nodding.
“That is plausible,” he said and sighed. “Given she may have been under more stress than we know, when I left her here. Those attacks of hers were not to be trifled at, although I thought we had got the better of them. But she was alone and in an unfamiliar place. She may well have been overwhelmed by those dark feelings again.” He sat down wearily the foot of the stairs, and pressed his hands to his face for a moment. “She went looking for Sukey, yes, that makes a great deal of sense.”
“It is only a theory,” said Felix.
“But it is the most likely one we have so far, given what we know. I’ve been trying to make connections and imagine enemies where there may be none. There may be no connection at all between this and Eliza Jones and John Edgar. I want there to be a connection because I want this to mean something. But perhaps it does not. It is simply a wretched turn of the wheel of fortune. And perhaps we will never know.” He hauled himself to his feet. “I think I need to be alone for a while, if you will excuse me,” he said, turning and going up the stairs.
Felix watched him go without another word.
Chapter Twenty-nine
A brutal headache had come over him and Giles was suddenly exhausted beyond endurance. He took off his boots and coat, stretched out on the bed and lay there, bone-tired bu
t unable to rest. All the information grated and pinched at his already inflamed mind. He felt sick with pain and confusion, unable to keep his eyes open.
He found himself in the topsy-turvy world of half-waking dreams. He was on the beach at Swalecliffe again, as he had been with Carswell the other night, with the band playing in the distance. Once again he was writing the names of the dead in the sand: first Eliza Jones, then John Edgar, and then Laura Vernon. He wrote them and felt nothing, and, at the same time, felt surprise at how little he felt. He had made a collection of marks in the sand meaning nothing. That was how it seemed. But then he had turned towards the sea again and seen Laura.
She was far out in the water and he saw that she was in difficulty. She was calling out to him. Yet her cries were quite silent, and he could only see them, not hear them. Her distress was very evident, heartbreakingly so – he felt it like a pain in his chest, and yet he stood there still, leaning on the stick with which he had just written her name in the sand, as if there was nothing to be done.
He woke shortly after that, the sight of her pained face vivid in his mind, and immediately felt violently sick. He also found he was sweating and shaking uncontrollably.
Holt came in later and found him retching into the chamber pot.
“I shall get Mr Carswell,” he said.
“No, no, I am not ill. It is only –”
“You have taken ill with the shock, sir,” Holt said, steering him to a chair. “As much as a bullet. I’m fetching Mr Carswell.”
Realising this was the only way he would get to be left alone, Giles consented to let him go. Alone again, he rinsed out his mouth and attempted to steady himself with a small glass of brandy. He did not feel physically strong, it was true, and his mind was racing about on a thousand courses. He felt he was trapped in a labyrinth, searching in all directions for both the entrance and the exit at the same time. He was determined to master the situation and himself, if only to push away the creeping dread that he had not done enough, that he had left her to die alone.
If I had not have gone away, it would not have happened. This is on my hands...
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