A Death at Crystal Palace

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘But I must know more,’ cried Klaus, reverting to English. ‘Little girl, I must know what threatens my sons.’

  ‘I won’t look. I won’t,’ said Ethel. ‘It’s too horrid. Far too horrid.’ Then Madame Arcana slumped forward on the table.

  ‘What do we do?’ cried Richenda.

  ‘I think we should stay still as she asked,’ I said calmly.

  ‘You’re right, miss,’ said the unremarkable man. ‘I’ve seen this before. She’ll be back in a moment.’

  Beside me I could sense Klaus was deeply disturbed.

  Madame Arcana raised her head. ‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘Ethel can be unruly. She is difficult to work with and I am tiring.’

  ‘But no one has spoken to me yet,’ said Richenda.

  ‘Sometimes the spirits do not have a message no matter how much we wish they did,’ said Madame Arcana, weariness sounding in her voice.

  ‘But I have a serious issue,’ said Richenda. ‘I need guidance.’

  Madame Arcana bowed her head. ‘I will try once more. But I warn you, I cannot make the spirits speak. It is as they wish.’ She took several deep breaths. ‘Is there anybody there, who wants to speak to anybody here?’

  Then, suddenly, as if he were in the room with us, I heard my father’s voice issue from Madame Arcana’s lips. ‘He’s a good man,’ he said. I felt a tear trickle down my face. My throat was too dry to speak. I understood he was giving his blessing for my marriage to Bertram. A great peace descended on me. My father had been a wise and compassionate man. I believed that even alive he had had the ability to see into the hearts of men. If he thought Bertram a good man, I could be assured I had made the right choice.

  Madame Arcana slumped onto the table once more. Her hair tumbled down. When she lifted her head, she appeared most dishevelled. ‘I am spent,’ she said in a voice of utter weariness. ‘I can do no more. You may break the circle. I am done.’

  Tempted though I was to stay and aid Madame Arcana, I realised I could not give away my connection without undoing all the work she had put into convincing Klaus of the dangers of war. At least, this is how I interpreted her storm clouds, though whether he would do the same remained to seen. The unremarkable man turned up the lamps, so I could more clearly see the medium. She sat back in her chair, half-heartedly pinning up her fallen hair. She had gone so pale her rouge stood out on her cheeks like a doll’s face. I hoped she had not travelled here alone. I rose with the others and exited. Outside the tent we immediately divided up into groups. The young couple disappeared quickly, still holding hands, but talking in a most animated way. The unremarkable man, at some point, exited. I did not mark when. The fish-smelling woman nodded at Richenda and me and gave us a slight smile. She wandered away into the main hall like a woman in a daze. Klaus’ aide came over to him and bowed as he snapped his heels together.

  ‘I believe we are now due to meet the rest of the delegation in the dining pavilion, sir.’

  ‘Ah, Friedrich, was that not a marvel? I arrived as a sceptic, as my young friend will attest.’ He nodded to me. ‘But I depart a believer.’

  ‘I am afraid I cannot join you in your belief, sir,’ said the aide, looking hard at me. It struck me that it would be more natural for him to speak in German and I wondered why he was allowing me to understand their conversation, but then he turned and spoke directly to me. ‘What did you think, Fraulein?’

  I smiled. ‘I must admit to being undecided. I have seen Madame Arcana perform, if that is the word, twice before. It has often struck me that her spirits hand out the most sensible advice, but as to their verisimilitude, I can only say that I have heard no one challenge her.’

  ‘I assume, like others in her profession, that she used no person’s name before they gave it to her?’ said the aide in near perfect English. The word ‘profession’ was said with a palatable dose of cynicism.

  ‘But she named my grandmother and my sons,’ objected Klaus. ‘I certainly did not volunteer that information.’

  I looked from one to the other. ‘I think you will find that your aide - I presume that is your position, sir - will point out that you are a person of note. In other words, that the medium may have asked the attendants here who was in the delegation. Did you join the performance by chance or was it pre-planned?’

  ‘Two of us were scheduled to attend,’ said Klaus. ‘Mein Gott! We actually drew lots to see who would attend. I could have missed this marvel if it was not for the chance that fortune favoured me. Unless you wish to suggest one of our countrymen is in league with Madame Arcana, Friedrich? And what would be the point? She is paid regardless of her comments.’

  ‘She does have a reputation to maintain,’ I said, before this Friedrich could point out she might have gathered information about all the delegation. I grew certain he was the German equivalent of a Fitzroy, and I thought I should do my best to reinforce this part of Fitzroy’s cascade. I therefore decided to play a flawed devil’s advocate. ‘If a guest goes away unsatisfied then I assume it would affect further bookings. You are obviously a man of significance. She would not want to offend you.’

  ‘You make my point for me,’ said Klaus, as I had hoped, ‘It would be ruinous to her career to give me a false message. Why, she even said Grossmutter smelt of mothballs and lavender.’

  ‘Do not most older ladies?’ said the aide.

  ‘Bah, you insult me,’ said Klaus. ‘It was not mothballs the child smelled but my grandmother’s signature scent.’ He paused and closed his eyes. ‘I can remember it as if it were yesterday. It was sharp and sickly sweet. Her first husband had commissioned it for her. When he died she wore it constantly in memory of him. It was perfectly foul. Mothballs would be an easy mistake. I assume the base of the perfume was some kind of distillation from tar. Her first husband was an entrepreneur, but not a very successful one.’

  ‘You appear to have an understanding of chemical science, sir,’ I said. Klaus waved my hand away.

  ‘An amateur interest. No more. But it is conclusive evidence that the medium is real.’

  I noted Richenda a little way off trying to attract my attention. ‘I fear I must say goodbye, sirs. My companion is waiting on me.’

  ‘I would be interested to know what you make of the message for the Baron, Fraulein. Do you have any particular thoughts?’ said the aide. He frowned as he spoke, and I could see suspicion written across his face.

  ‘I fear it made little sense to me. If it had been a storm at sea perhaps I could see danger. But why should a storm threaten two healthy men?’

  Klaus suddenly clasped my arm. ‘You have targeted upon the truth. Both of my sons have aspirations to join the navy. This must be the warning.’

  ‘I could not say,’ I said, fearing I had accidentally come too near the intended message by accident. ‘But I must attend my friend. I hope you both enjoy the rest of your time in London.’ I offered my hand to shake, but Klaus took it and kissed it. I rejoiced that fashion dictated I wear gloves. This Baron was becoming all too familiar and, as Bertram would have said, ‘warm’ towards me. I withdrew my hand, nodded at the aide, doubtless making him dislike me further, and retreated to Richenda. ‘Let us move on,’ I said. ‘I appear to have become an object of interest to the Baron!’

  Richenda regarded me with tear-filled eyes. ‘You heard Madame Arcana, she said Richard is a changed man.’

  I looked at her blankly.

  ‘Don’t you see, the last message was intended for me. My prayers have been answered. My twin has reformed!’

  Chapter Six

  Amy Causes Chaos and Fitzroy Puts His Foot Down

  I had no words to respond to Richenda’s extraordinary announcement. I knew her well enough that if she decided something was her prize she would not give it up. I stood no chance of convincing her that the voice had belonged to my own father and he had been talking about an altogether different gentleman. She had heard what she wanted to hear and accepted it as a fact. I bundled her in the direction
of where I hoped to find Bertram. I would need his help in undoing this mess.

  But we had only started in the direction of the more mechanical section of the exhibition when Bertram came running towards us. His face was red, and he muttered a stream of excuses as he pushed past other visitors in a manner most unlike him. He stopped in front of us. He was breathing so heavily speech was difficult.

  ‘Good heavens, Bertram,’ said Richenda, ‘you sound like a steam train. What exhibit can have caused you so much excitement? Have the Germans found some miraculous way to drain watery land?’ She gave a little chuckle, in no way concerned for her younger brother’s state. I, on the other hand, knowing Bertram’s heart condition and perhaps valuing him more highly than his self-obsessed sister, attempted to lead him to a chair. He refused to be budged but bent forward in an attempt to regain his breath. I leaned over too and attempted to catch his words.

  ‘Amy?’ I said after listening to him puff for a few moments. He nodded vigorously.

  ‘Oh no,’ cried Richenda. ‘Is she hurt?’

  Bertram shook his head.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, stand up properly, Bertram, and tell me what is happening,’ demanded Richenda.

  Bertram did his best to comply. ‘Tree,’ he managed to pant.

  ‘Did he say tree?’ said Richenda. ‘He must have gone mad. I am so sorry for you, Euphemia.’

  Bertram shook his head firmly. Then winced and went rather green around the gills.

  ‘No, there are trees in the pavilion,’ I said. ‘I read about it before we came.’

  ‘How extraordinary,’ said Richenda, still not grasping the heart of the matter.

  ‘Richenda,’ I said, ‘does Amy know how to climb trees?’

  An expression of enlightenment dawned on Richenda’s face. It told me all I needed to know.

  ‘Where?’ I said to Bertram. He pointed.

  ‘Look after him,’ I commanded Richenda and lifted my skirts almost to my ankles as I ran off in the direction indicated.

  ‘But I am her mother,’ I heard Richenda say behind me. However, a diet largely composed of cake has its effects and I quickly left her behind. I had to trust that Bertram would have the sense to wait and recover before he followed us. Obviously, Amy had not responded to his command or was unable to come down out of the tree. She will respond to me, I thought. Even in my own head I heard those words in my mother’s voice.

  I turned the corner into one of the wider areas of the Pavilion and above the heads of a small crowd I saw the tree. Amidst its still green leaves shone the bright red curls of Amy. She was sitting astride a branch. Every few moments she put something from her pocket in her mouth, took it out and threw it down below. I could not see what or where because of the distance between us. ‘Excuse me. Let me through,’ I said a dozen or more times as I forced my way towards the foot of the tree. There I found Rory.

  ‘I cannae make the lassie obey me, Euphemia,’ he said. At that moment another small missile rained down upon his head. He caught it in his hand and showed me. ‘Half-sucked sweeties, the disgusting wee brat.’

  ‘Can she get down on her own, do you think?’ I asked. ‘Or should I find someone to procure a ladder?’

  ‘If the way she got up there is any sign,’ said Rory, ‘I would say she would have no trouble coming down it she wants to. Went up like a squirrel with a cat behind it.’ He looked up at her. ‘Amy Muller, you stop that and get down here this instant!’

  Behind us, among the now substantial crowd who had gathered to watch this live amusement, I heard mutterings of ‘Of course she is German’ and ‘No English girl would ever behave like that.’ There were also comments of ‘Hoyden!’, ‘Tomboy!’, and ‘Apeish!’. But it was the ones about her nationality that bothered me most. Here was Fitzroy attempting to do his best to bolster relations between Germany and the British Empire and Amy, in her own way, was souring this.

  ‘Get down here this instant,’ repeated Rory. If I have learned anything from my mother, it is that one issues neither commands nor threats more than once. If you have to do so, then you have lost.

  ‘You’ll have to go up and get her,’ I said to Rory. He sighed and began to strip off his jacket.

  ‘It would have to be my good suit,’ he said. He handed his neatly folded jacket to me. ‘Either you come down, young lady, or I’m coming up,’ he shouted up at Amy.

  Where upon Amy pulled her masterstroke. ‘You are not my papa,’ she screamed at the top of her voice. ‘Leave me alone! I want Papa.’

  At this point an official-looking man with fearsome side whiskers made his way through the crowd, loudly demanding passage. I guessed him to be someone who was primarily employed to ensure visitors stayed the right distance from the exhibitions and to discreetly point ladies in the direction of the powder room when asked. However, this situation appeared to be all his dreams come true. In a loud, and not particularly refined accent, he called to the crowd to stand back and give him room. ‘Nothing to be concerned about ’ere, ladies and gentlemen. I am an employee of Crystal Palace and I have the situation under control. There is no need for panic.’ Up to this point there had been much murmurings and curiosity, but not, as far as I could see, any panic. However now the crowd had been asked not to panic, they began to get restive and wilful, as if wondering if there was something worth panicking over after all. Above all, the thirty or so people gathered showed no sign of moving. If anything, more people were joining them. A buzz of asides and whispered comments hung ominously over the crowd. I looked up and caught Amy’s eye. She grinned, the little minx. Then the official addressed her, ‘Is this ’ere man bothering you, young lady?’ His voice carried to the back of the crowd who, as one, pricked up their ears. Amy squeezed out a couple of tears and adopted a lisp.

  ‘He wanth me to come down, but I don’t wanth to, officer.’

  Calling the official an officer did Amy no harm in the man’s eyes. He adopted an avuncular, if still uncomfortably loud tone, ‘There, there my dear. No one will harm you while I am here. You can come down.’

  ‘But I am thcared,’ lisped Amy. I mentally ran through the punishments my mother had allotted me in her time and decided that none were harsh enough.

  The bewhiskered official turned to Rory, whose pale skin had turned an unfortunate hue. I would not have said he was blushing, because Rory would never allow himself to show such emotion in full public view, but his colour was certainly heightened. ‘So, am I to take it you are related to the young lady, sir?’

  Rory’s deep voice with its Scottish burr was all too audible as he replied, ‘Not exactly.’ I am sure he had a good and clear explanation to follow that would have defused the situation if it were not for another official, almost the twin of the first, arriving on the scene. As he pushed his way unceremoniously through the crowd he called, ‘You ’avin’ trouble there, Alf?’

  ‘This ’ere man seems to have chased this young girl up one of our trees,’ responded the first official. ‘It’s not looking good for you, sir,’ he added to Rory.

  Rory pulled himself up to his full height and began, ‘Now see here, my man…’ But Alf’s reinforcement had now got to the front of the crowd and to everyone’s amazement he rugby-tackled Rory. Although much shorter than Rory, he was somewhat rotund and had the element of surprise. Rory went down like a felled tree. I was some feet away, but I heard the audible outrush of air as Rory had the wind knocked out of him. The official went down on top of him and he disappeared from my view. I pushed my way to the front of the line in time to see the two men entangled. At that moment Rory drew up his legs and kicked out, sending the official flying. Any thought of calming the situation quickly vanished from my head as I found a large man in a blue uniform hurtling in my general direction. I instinctively attempted to dodge and managed to avoid the full force of the official careering in my direction. He still clipped me, but my sideways trajectory made it possible for several good-natured people in the crowd to catch me before I complet
ely tumbled to the floor. My hat went over my eyes and I lost my view. What appeared to be a friendly couple helped me to my feet and guided me to a chair at the side of the chamber. I fixed my hat as well as I could, and Fitzroy’s face appeared suddenly very close to mine. I gave a little squeak of surprise. Behind him I could hear what I unfortunately knew to be the sounds of a brawl breaking out.

  ‘That child is hell-spawn,’ said Fitzroy so softly only I heard. He then turned and murmured thanks to the closest of my rescuers, leading them to believe I was his responsibility.

  ‘What did you say?’ I protested, attempting to rise. Fitzroy took my arm in a vice-like grip and began to escort me away from the scene.

  ‘That you are my wife and of a nervous disposition. You need air, or you will faint.’ He added in an undertone, ‘Don’t protest. I have already indicated you have a disposition to hysteria and you don’t want me to slap you, do you?’

  ‘But I have to go back and help,’ I said, pulling uselessly against him. For a man who did not appear very muscular, his strength was shockingly iron-like.

  ‘That girl has already drawn too much attention to your party. You and I, and I hope your beloved swain, will at least escape public notice if I have my way. Don’t fight me over this, Euphemia. I am more than capable of picking you up and carrying you out of here.’

  ‘But that would defeat your object of avoiding public notice,’ I said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Fitzroy. ‘But your soon-to-be relatives are providing a fine show.’ He grinned at me. ‘Besides, you know how I feel about losing - to anyone.’

  We were far enough away from the tree now that I knew either a full-scale brawl would be afoot, or the situation would be sorted before I could get back there - even if I could manage to free myself. I capitulated and allowed my captor to lead me outside. Though I confess one of my motivations was purely self-centred. Fitzroy vibrated with anger and I did not want to be the one upon whom his ire became vented.