People Say I'm Different: A Lord Charles Stewart Mystery

by John E. Conley

  Mary took a seat in the lobby and thought about the teenager. Too often, she had seen children of that age with similar ailments locked up and separated from the community. Here, in the farthest corner of the country, a girl may be allowed to conduct a near normal life. Mary committed herself to learning as much as she could about Anna’s life before leaving Alnmouth.

  While Mary pondered, Charles was in discussion at the front desk with a thin, aging man in excessively thick glasses.

  “A party of three, sir?” he asked Lord Stewart.

  “Yes, sir. I prefer the rooms to be adjacent and on the upper floor,” Charles replied.

  The old man coughed and nervously adjusted his glasses, saying, “Well now, sir, we don’t often use the upper floor. Would the second floor suit the gentleman and lady?”

  Intrigued, Charles asked, “Is there something wrong with the upper floor rooms?”

  Following another cough, the man said, “Oh no, nothing wrong with them at all. It’s just that…well, after the events that transpired a couple decades ago, we…I think you’d understand.”

  “What events were those?”

  The man leaned forward over the counter, lowered his glasses on his nose, and said nervously, “It was quite nothing, sir. Nothing at all. But, still….”

  Charles resisted his right to know what the little man was inferring, choosing instead to leave his inquiries for later and said, “If it is your opinion, sir, that we should stay on the second floor, please find us three adjacent rooms.”

  The relieved clerk provided Charles with the keys and directions to the rooms. Despite the urge, Charles did not rehash the incident with Mary when he advised her the rooms were ready. Bingham and a young bellhop attended to the luggage while Charles and Mary walked up the steps to the second floor. A long, narrow, and dark hallway awaited them. There was very little that appeared modern about the hotel, including the few lights on the wall. Dark wood doors, along with heavily patterned wallpaper and rugs almost made Mary forget about the brilliance of the light outside. Unfortunately, entering her room did little to improve the situation.

  “Who would put up this dreadful wallpaper?” she asked Charles, who only smiled in reply. “And these carpets. Maybe if I pull open the shades….”

  A revealing of the windows did permit more light in, but that only intensified the ugliness of the interior.

  “We will be spending the bulk of our time outside, dear,” Charles consoled her. “Think of how dark it will be in here at night. You do like it dark at night, don’t you?”

  “I’m sure I won’t be able to see my hand in front of my face. It will be wonderful,” she said mockingly. “At least I won’t have to look at these walls. Apparently Mr. Clarke has stayed here.”

  “As I told you before,” Charles said. “We can change hotels any time you like.”

  “No, no,” Mary said, sitting on the edge of the bed, “This is fine, Charles. It was a long day in the car. I’m sure I’ll feel better about it tomorrow. You go and get settled now.”

  Charles left her and Mary walked over to the window. She had to admit that the village was quaint and the streets certainly not overly crowded with people. She was used to trees at Hillcrest School and she saw plenty in both directions up and down the street in Alnmouth. Besides, she had already made a new friend.

  People Say I’m Different

  Charles never slept well the first night away from home as he had a tendency to listen for every little bump or creak, of which there were many during the night. His first thought was of Mary and how she might have fared. With light pouring in the window, he arose to begin their first full day in Alnmouth.

  A rap at the door signaled Bingham’s arrival and the butler entered his Lord’s room to assemble the day’s clothing.

  “Good day, sir,” Bingham said cheerfully. “Did you happen to hear any of the various thumpings during the night?”

  “I did indeed. It was as if the old place was breathing with difficulty,” Charles replied.

  “And yet not a voice could be heard,” Bingham said, laying Charles’ coat on the bed.

  “I noticed. Do you imagine we picked a haunted establishment, of all things?”

  “You know I’m not a believer in such things, sir,” Bingham assured him. “There’s a logical explanation for everything in life. Otherwise, no crime would ever get solved.”

  “I wonder when was the last time the people of Alnmouth ever had to deal with serious crime, Bingham.”

  The butler smiled and said, “Perhaps a poached herring or two.”

  “Red herrings, undoubtedly,” Charles said.

  He had set no time to meet Mary, so once dressed he and Bingham walked down to the small dining room on the first floor, only to find her already seated at a table large enough for all of them. She was dressed warmly in a dark sweater and long skirt, with a brimmed hat resting on a chair next to her. A half slice of toast and half-empty teacup indicated to Charles she had not just arrived.

  “An early riser today,” he said to her with a smile while he and Bingham sat.

  “I slept surprisingly well,” she answered. “I suppose the trip tired me more than I expected. How about you?”

  “We were both fine,” Charles said, choosing to ignore the noises of the night if she was unaware of them. “Shall we stay?”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, let’s.”

  The men ordered from a limited number of offerings suggested by the young waiter and the trio began to draw up an agenda for the day. It was agreed upon that the morning would be spent exploring the village, what little there was to explore. They could see the street from the front window and a small number of people were beginning to pass by. Women held their hats as the wind persistently picked up during the meal.

  “We better take our coats when we go out,” Mary suggested. “I saw clouds out over the sea earlier.”

  “Red sky in morning, or whatever the saying is,” Charles said. “I never trust the weather on the coast. I’ll trust the woman who lives on it, though. Coats it is.”

  Mary Hastings was not a world traveler. She had rarely been out of Yorkshire and never out of the country. Yet, she had dreams of seeing places like Paris and Rome and perhaps Charles would be the person to take her there. For now, she was content exploring the less romantic villages of Northumberland and would begin with Alnmouth.

  After eating, all three went up to their rooms for coats and met again in the lobby, where Charles and Bingham followed Mary out of the hotel and onto Northumberland Street, looking in both directions before collectively deciding to stroll toward the river mouth to the right. After a half dozen residents had nodded and wished them a good morning, Charles said, “How unlike London, where you could stroll all day without an acknowledgment. These pastoral villages really do have a charm of their own.”

  Before Mary could agree, her attention was stolen by a rapidly moving figure across the street.

  “There’s Anna,” she said excitedly. “I must talk to her.”

  “Where should we meet up again?” Mary said loudly over her shoulder as she hurried into the street.

  “The lobby at noon if we don’t see you sooner,” Charles yelled in reply.

  Mary held her skirt and hat as she raced to catch up to the girl.

  “Anna! Anna! Wait up,” Mary shouted.

  Anna finally slowed and turned just as Mary caught up to her.

  “Mr. Clarke will be expecting me soon,” Anna told the panting woman.

  “May I walk with you?”

  Anna was already gaining speed again and simply nodded in reply. Mary kept pace the best she could, studying the intent look on her companion’s face. She was intrigued by Anna’s singular thought process and silently wondered if maybe there were some advantages to it. They cut down alleys and turned onto a secondary road until the open field leading to the school was in sight.

  “Are you on an errand for Mr. Clarke?” Mary asked.

  “I haven
’t seen him, yet,” Anna answered. “He’ll be expecting me.”

  “He works at the school?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  No more words were exchanged as the pair walked across the field. Mary saw no activity around the nondescript building, but took Anna at her word that the headmaster…if that was his role…would be there. Mary had no preconceived ideas about the man she assumed was such a large part of Anna’s life, except that most headmasters she had known were less than sociable. Whether male or female, such as Mrs. Murgatroyd at her own Hillcrest School, they tended to be strict disciplinarians.

  Anna’s pace quickened even more the closer they got to the school until she nearly ran through the front doors and into a hallway. Mary followed dutifully, a few steps behind, attempting to undo the damage done to her hair by the hat. Anna turned into an office and Mary heard a man’s voice welcome her.

  As Mary appeared at the door, Anna said, “I made a new friend, Mr. Clarke. I hope you aren’t mad.”

  To the contrary, John Clarke was quite pleased to see Mary’s blushed face and tousled hair standing in his doorway. He stood and rounded the desk quickly, extending his hand as Mary entered.

  “John Clarke. Who may I welcome to my school?”

  “Mary Hastings, Mr. Clarke. I….”

  “Please call me John,” he interrupted.

  “Certainly,” she replied with a grin. “I just met Anna yesterday and saw her again this morning and next thing I knew we were here.”

  “Are you visiting or have I simply not had the pleasure, yet?”

  “I’m visiting. A couple of friends and myself. We’re staying in the Brampton Hotel for a few days at least,” Mary said.

  “I’m sure you’ll love Alnmouth, but not many people make this a destination,” John said.

  “Charles recommended it. He knows this area so much better than I.”

  “Please sit,” John said, pointing to the single chair. “Anna, can you get another chair from the closest classroom, please.”

  When the girl had gone, John said, “We don’t have the fanciest things here in Alnmouth, Miss Hastings. It would be unthinkable for me to request elegant furnishings from a village with so little money.”

  “I am quite used to it. I’m a teacher,” Mary replied.

  “Really? How splendid. Where’s your school?”

  Anna returned with a chair and put it near the door, sitting and placing her hands in her lap.

  “In Scarborough, south of Whitby in Yorkshire. Perhaps you haven’t heard of it.”

  John smiled and said, “Of course I have. Beautiful area it is, too.”

  Mary studied the man’s face, finding the firmness of his lips and the probing nature of his eyes rather fascinating. His glasses tended to portray intelligence and gentleness, but she felt like a much more interesting man hid behind the glasses and his thick beard. Like herself, he did not possess stunning beauty, but was certainly not unpleasant to look at.

  “Mary says I can ride in her big car,” Anna told John.

  He smiled and glanced at Mary, who said, “With her mother’s permission, of course.”

  “Oh, she has no mother,” John said. “She lives with her Aunt. I’m sure it will be fine. Anna doesn’t get to experience many nice things.”

  “People say I’m different,” Anna said with childish innocence.

  Mary looked at her and said, “It’s good to be different, Anna. Life would be boring if we were all the same. You do what your Aunt and Mr. Clarke tell you and don’t listen to what people say.”

  “I’ll listen to you, too, Mary.”

  Mary laughed and answered, “OK, Anna.”

  Then she turned to John and said, “I don’t want to take any more of your time, John. My friends will be waiting for me. Thank you for letting me come into your school.”

  “There’s not much to it, as you can see,” John told her. “And you are always welcome here. Can I escort you back into the village?”

  Mary assured him that would not be necessary and leisurely walked back to the hotel contemplating what little she knew of John Clarke. He certainly was nice enough, but did not strike her as the type of man who had spent many years in charge of a school. The headmasters she knew were haggard from the daily grind, with sour dispositions and little patience. Nevertheless, he was young, she reminded herself with a grin.

  It was an hour before noon, so Mary had time to go to her room to tame her hair and reapply makeup. Perhaps it was all right for John Clarke to see her a bit disheveled, but Mary still insisted on looking her best for Charles. She considered sitting in her room for a while, but the dreariness swayed her into moving to the hotel lobby.

  Mary sat there in an overstuffed armchair that felt like it wanted to engulf her. The only sounds she heard emanated from the kitchen and not a soul was within sight. She studied the dull countryside paintings on the walls until movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. A door opened in the corner and a woman appeared, having descended steps that Mary only saw for an instant before the door closed.

  The woman’s beauty struck Mary at once, despite the somber look on her face. Luscious, long hair framed the face perfectly as the woman walked rapidly towards Mary. Only when she was within a few feet did the woman notice the guest.

  The face instantly transformed to one of liveliness and cheer.

  “Oh, hello,” the woman said after stopping. “I didn’t see you. It’s uncommon to have a guest in the lobby.”

  Mary smiled and said, “I think it’s one of the features I will grow to love about your village. And everyone seems so friendly.”

  “Thank you. I hope you find it that way. My name’s Irene Hall. Pleased to meet you.”

  Mary accepted the outreached hand and replied, “Mary Hastings. I’m waiting on two friends who are traveling with me. This is our first day here.”

  Irene said, “Is that the gentleman with the Daimler, may I ask?”

  Mary nodded.

  “My husband told me this morning we had visitors,” Irene said. “He’s a County Alderman and makes it his business to see or hear everything going on. Please don’t think we are simply nosy.”

  Mary laughed and said, “Not at all. Lord Stewart’s automobile is noticed almost everywhere he goes. Please don’t think he’s a snob. He really isn’t.”

  As if on cue, Charles and Bingham walked through the front door and immediately spotted the two women. Charles removed his top hat and gazed at Irene the entire time it took to reach them, much to Mary’s chagrin. Finally, he peered down at her.

  “You beat us I see,” he said. “And you’ve made another new friend. You certainly are proficient at that.”

  “Charles, this is Irene Hall. Lord Charles Stewart,” Mary said in way of introduction.

  Charles took Irene’s hand and said, “My pleasure. And this is my butler, Bingham.”

  They nodded and smiled, with Irene saying, “Welcome, all of you, to Alnmouth. We don’t have much to offer besides the sea air, but I’m sure you will enjoy your stay. The Brampton has quite a history of its own, of course.”

  “You don’t say,” Bingham replied. “Do tell us.”

  Irene seemed to flush and clearly wavered before saying, “Oh, it’s a long story and is best saved for when we have more time. I do hope we get to talk again.”

  “We’ll count on it,” Charles told her, disappointed that Bingham had no more luck extracting the hotel’s secrets than he had.

  “Thank you, but I must go now. I’m already late,” Irene said, hastily saying her goodbyes and walking out the front door.

  Charles waited for her to be out of sight before saying to Mary, “Friendly gal. Do you know who she is?”

  “First of all, she’s married,” Mary said with emphasis. “The wife of a County Alderman and she apparently knows all the back stairways in this historic place. She appeared from out of nowhere it seemed.”

  “So, what did you and the young girl do af
ter you ran off?” Charles asked as he and Bingham pulled up chairs.

  “Anna took me to the school, which seems to be where she spends a lot of her time,” Mary said. “I met the headmaster, Mr. John Clarke. Nice enough chap, I suppose. Takes good care of Anna in lieu of missing parents. I’m certain I’ll pay far less attention to him than you will of Miss Hall.”

  Charles smiled at her without a hint of remorse and said, “Why would I have the slightest interest in a striking, potentially rich lady like Miss Hall? Bingham, on the other hand, may have a different opinion.”

  The butler rubbed his chin and answered, “She did have a certain air about her. Not sure what it was, though. Perhaps a hint of insolence?”

  Mary told him, “Pin it down and report back, Bingham. Just keep Charles at a safe distance from her.”

  Eager to change the subject, Charles proposed that the group have a closer look at the nearby market before lunch and soon found themselves on the street making the short walk. If there was anything in Alnmouth that qualified as a gathering place for the locals, it was the market. This was partly caused by the restrictions placed on movement by the market’s numerous and closely spaced aisles of produce, fish, and other food items.

  As they entered, Bingham split off from the others to inspect baskets of fruit along the wall. Mary and Charles took a more direct route down the center, gazing at the offerings and politely nodding as customers moved past. The commingling of smells made it impossible to distinguish one from the other unless holding an item within inches of the nose.

  “Daphne’s market is better,” Charles whispered into Mary’s ear, referring to his favorite haunt in Danby.

  To which Mary replied quietly, “I think a market in North Yorkshire has quite the advantage over a seaside grocer in Northumberland.”

  They meandered aimlessly for several minutes with Mary selecting a few pieces of fruit for later in the day. The market was fairly narrow, but deep, and the three visitors found themselves together again in a back corner, along with a solitary female customer of advanced age.

  The woman smiled and said, “Visitors to Alnmouth are ye?”