Devil May Care (A Jonathan Harker Mystery)

by Evans, Tony

  It was my turn to stand up and as I did so I gathered my papers together. It was now clear to me why Nathanial Haywood had insisted on the inclusion of the contentious clause. If the settlement was unacceptable to Sir Owen Velland, then the marriage could hardly take place: an outcome with which Mr and Mrs Haywood would be very pleased.

  I addressed the baronet. ‘Sir, can I make two points? Firstly, a moment ago you addressed me as ‘Harker’. If in future you could give me the benefit of my title and include ‘Mr’ in front of my name I would appreciate it. Secondly, as you object to a clause in the agreement which my client believes to be essential, there seems little point in prolonging this discussion. I will report back to Mr Haywood and tell him that agreement cannot be reached. If you can ring for your butler, I will wish you good day.’

  ‘Mr Harker, let me apologise. I may have spoken hastily.’ Sir Owen paused, and smiled unconvincingly at Makepiece. ‘After all, I have every confidence in my solicitors’ discretion. I cannot say that I am happy with the clause that Flora’s father insists upon, but provided it remains a secret between us, I daresay I will have to put up with it. Let me make a suggestion. If two copies of this agreement can be drawn up by Mr Makepiece by next Monday morning you can call into his office in St Ives and read them both through. Then if you can ask Mr Haywood to sign them and have them witnessed I will do the same and we can each retain a copy. That will, I hope, allow the wedding to take place by the end of January, as Flora and I wish.’

  There was little that I could do other than agree to the arrangement, after which Sir Owen insisted I take a glass of wine with him and his solicitor before I left. As I sipped the fine vintage I could not help thinking that Nathanial Haywood’s stratagem had been flawed. It was very likely that from henceforth the baronet would view my client as an enemy and furthermore as a man who had insulted him. From what I had learned of Sir Owen that did not bode well for Mr Haywood.

  Chapter Five

  Instead of riding directly to our friends’ residence I called first at the post office in Hayle to see if any letters had arrived for the Ashbys’ house which had not yet been collected by the postman. When I eventually reached Rosehill I placed Willow in the good hands of the groom and walked round to the front garden where Mina was cutting flowers. She passed each stem to Grace and the little girl placed each one carefully in a straw basket. A wooden crib stood close by with Wilfred asleep within it.

  For a moment Mina did not notice me and I slowed my step to admire her happy presence before I spoke her name, softly, to avoid waking Edith’s baby. As she turned round with a pretty smile to greet me, I thanked providence for bringing us together. Our marriage, contracted under such difficult and dangerous circumstance as I lay sick in the Hospital of St Joseph and St Mary in Buda-Pesth, had thus far proved to be a very happy one.

  ‘Why, Jonathan, you have just missed your messenger,’ Mina said. ‘A most sombre looking person – Sir Owen Velland’s butler. He gave his name as Jennings, and passed me this letter addressed to you before riding off.’

  ‘How odd,’ I said. ‘I was with his master less than half an hour ago. Let me see.’

  I opened the envelope and read the contents.

  Dear Mr Harker,

  Now that our formal business has been concluded, pray do me the honour of dining with me tomorrow evening, Thursday 17th October, at eight o’clock. I have little enough company in this part of the world, and it would be a delight to converse with an intelligent man such as you. The Reverend Trewellard is also invited, as is my cousin Mr Arnold Paxton and my solicitor Elias Makepiece, so we will be a select party of five. I will send a note to Trewellard tomorrow asking him to collect you at seven in his carriage. Unless I hear from you to the contrary, I look forward to meeting you again very soon.

  With kindest regards, Velland.

  I passed the note back to Mina. ‘This is most surprising, my dear. I would have described our morning’s meeting as frosty at best. Perhaps I have been too quick to judge Sir Owen.’

  Mina read it through and frowned. ‘I’m afraid that I’m not at all impressed by Sir Owen’s manners! He and his two friends may lack wives, but that is hardly an excuse for overlooking yours. He probably thought that a lady novelist at his table would dominate the conversation to the detriment of his friends. Still, I dare say you will enjoy the novelty of a bachelor evening. Perhaps it will culminate in some exciting experiments in the baronet’s chemical laboratory. Take care not to be blown to pieces!’

  I smiled. ‘Fortunately our two years of marriage have taught me when you are pleased to be facetious. Far from enjoying the novelty were it not for my professional obligations I would consider foregoing it altogether.’ I could see Mina looking at me with a puzzled expression and so I continued. ‘My meeting with Nathanial and Nellie Haywood was illuminating, as was my brief but dramatic encounter with a St Ives medical man, Dr Goodwin. I suspect that Sir Owen is either very dangerous, or a harmless victim of prejudice and superstition. However, if I can make a suggestion, let’s wait until dinner this evening before I lay my findings before you – and before Charles and Edith.’

  ‘Edith has bicycled to St Ives,’ Mina said. ‘Apparently Charles bought the machine for her last month and she has just taken delivery of one of the latest ladies’ cycling outfits, ordered from London.’

  I chuckled. ‘You’re lucky the Ashbys did not purchase a tandem, otherwise Edith might have asked you to join her and scandalised the natives even more.’

  *

  That evening, after Edith had returned safely – if a little dusty and oil stained – from her bicycling expedition and Charles Ashby from his parish business, Mina and I joined them for a pleasant dinner. I planned to spend the night at Rosehill and we therefore agreed that I would relay my discoveries to my wife and our friends after the table was cleared.

  The four of us adjourned to the Ashbys’ small library, which was rather more comfortable than the drawing room on a chilly autumn evening. Before her return to her parents’ cottage Lucy had laid a good log fire and we pulled up our armchairs in a semi-circle around it. I noticed a pair of sporting guns in a glass fronted cabinet to one side of the fireplace and pointed at them.

  ‘Do you shoot, Charles?’ I asked. Somehow I did not associate my friend with the pointless slaughter of slow-moving birds.

  ‘I do not,’ he replied. ‘They came with the house. The previous curate was something of a sportsman, I believe. He went to a mission in the colonies. At least he was honest enough to leave the Church’s guns behind.’

  Charles leaned forward to poke the fire and for a moment it blazed up brighter than the two oil lamps, Rosehill not being supplied with the modern convenience of gas lighting. The wind had freshened and could be heard whistling through the branches of the tall elms nearby.

  ‘Why, we might be present at the beginning of a frightening tale by the late Mr Sheridan Le Fanu,’ Edith said. ‘Should we hear the jangling of chains or the wail of a tormented spirit all will be complete!’

  ‘I’m not sure that Mina and Jonathan share your delight in gothic romance,’ Charles said with a frown. ‘Remember that they have had first-hand experience of such matters.’

  ‘By no means,’ Mina said. ‘I like a good ghost story as much as anyone, as long as it contains the familiar horrors that have entertained us since our childhood. What is more disturbing is the unfamiliar, rarely encountered between the covers of a book. However, let us allow Jonathan to tell us what he has discovered about Sir Owen since the four of us last spoke. Perhaps we should pass round the port before he begins.’

  Once our glasses had all been filled I started my account of what had happened since I had left Rosehill the previous morning. I had just repeated the Haywoods’ account of their bizarre experience on the night of their violent disagreement with Sir Owen when Charles interrupted.

  ‘Has it occurred to you how very out of character it would be for Mr and Mrs Haywood to be prone to any k
ind of nervous imaginings? I can hardly think of a more sensible, strong minded couple.’

  Edith nodded. ‘No indeed. I think we must accept that whatever the nature of their experience one can hardly dispute its reality. And its occurrence so soon after Sir Owen’s humiliating ejection seems a little too coincidental. But do go on, Jonathan.’

  When I described my dream it was of course necessary to explain that the young lady in my vision was the same mysterious figure that I had seen from the train on our journey down to Cornwall and had chosen not to mention to my wife. As I might have anticipated, Mina was not in the least put out.

  ‘Really, you should not have denied me the frisson of excitement that your story would have produced!’ she said with a smile. ‘Having been twice accosted by this woman you must promise to tell me if she reappears. I shall have a sharp word or two with her if I ever see her.’

  Charles Ashby was not so amused. ‘The young lady may have had a purpose in her visitations. You say that in your dream she seemed to be warning you: I am inclined to agree and believe that you should take her warning seriously.’

  During the remainder of my account my audience exercised admirable self-control, and heard me out in silence. When my story had concluded there was a moment’s silence before Mina spoke.

  ‘It seems to me that we have heard a great deal of speculation – I imply no criticism, Jonathan – but have little or no evidence upon which to base a conclusion.’

  I sighed. ‘Evidently these are deep waters. It is a great shame that my old friend Professor Van Helsing is not with us to offer his advice. However, let us hope that my visit to Carrick Manor tomorrow evening will illuminate matters. Now, Charles, I have a favour to ask. Would you mind looking over the sketch I made when I awoke this morning? It has no meaning to my eyes, but perhaps you might find it significant. And Edith and Mina, if you please.’

  The curate took my pocket book from me and stood up to hold it near to the oil lamp, the two ladies peering at it over his shoulder.

  ‘But this is astonishing!’ he cried. ‘Are you quite sure that this drawing is based solely upon your dream?’

  ‘I’m quite certain,’ I said. ‘It is merely a reproduction of what I remembered. But what the devil is it, Charles?’

  In answer to my question he picked up the lamp and walked to the far wall of the library, scrutinising the shelves. After opening a few books and replacing them he returned with a somewhat mildewed volume and sat down in his chair.

  ‘In saying “What the devil” you may have come closer to the truth than you intended. See this.’

  He held the book open so that all four of us could see the peculiar design which filled the lower part of one page. It consisted of an outer circle with an equal-sided triangle set within it. Esoteric, rune-like symbols could be seen in the spaces between the straight sides of the triangle and the outer circle. Inside the triangle sat a second inner circle, which contained no markings.

  Mina held my pocket-book next to the ancient volume. It was quite clear that other than the symbols – which either I had not observed clearly or which had been absent from my dream – my sketch was the same as the diagram which Charles had unearthed.

  Edith refilled our glasses. ‘I think you’d better explain, Charles,’ she said.

  ‘Very well. The book I have here,’ he held it up momentarily, ‘is The Magus, or Celestial Intelligencer, by Francis Barrett. It was published in 1801. The book is a guide to the occult and to ceremonial magic and is itself based on a number of much earlier works, including some very rare manuscripts. The illustration is of the Seal of Lucifer, an ancient and powerful symbol. Of course the modern church is inclined to dismiss such things as myths and legends.’

  As he spoke I wondered how the Seal could have entered my dream. One possible explanation was that I had seen it before, perhaps years ago in some forgotten book or monograph and since forgotten it. Neither could I dismiss an alternative possibility: that the dream had been the result of an external influence rather than simply the regurgitation of my own unconscious imagination.

  ‘Perhaps we are too quick to dismiss such disturbing beliefs as mere superstition,’ Edith said. ‘What is the purpose of the Seal of Lucifer, according to those who have faith in such things?’

  Charles paused to gather his thoughts. ‘I am not an expert in occult beliefs, which in any event are rarely consistent or reliable. However, in broad terms, the Seal is used to summon Satan’s presence. There are many reasons why a misguided person might want to attract the attention of the Prince of Darkness. However, the use of the Seal suggests a particular purpose: the offering of a sacrifice in the hope of the reward of immortality – or at any rate, of a life prolonged beyond its normal span.’

  Mina nodded. ‘I have read of such practices. Am I right in saying that in return for the soul of the man or woman sacrificed, Satan grants to his acolyte the life-force of the victim’s body?’

  ‘You are absolutely correct,’ Charles answered.

  ‘Mina’s researches for her sensational fiction sometimes take her into very strange places,’ I said with a smile. ‘But can we seriously believe that such rituals are practised today?’

  Charles shook his head. ‘I think it unlikely that they are often practised, as such, but I would not be surprised if they were attempted. Amateur occultism is after all not uncommon. However, even if we accept the reality of such arts, it would require an unusually competent magician to achieve any success.’

  ‘And what is your own opinion, Charles?’ Mina asked. ‘Can the power of Satan really be harnessed by a human being?’

  ‘I would like to think not, but there is a great deal of evidence to suggest the feat is not impossible. You and Jonathan know more than most that the physical laws of everyday life can sometimes be transcended by darker powers and as a churchman I must necessarily believe in a spiritual realm, if not a magical one.’

  Chapter Six

  The following morning I decided that I would go to St Ives to try to obtain an interview with Dr Goodwin, as I felt sure his plea that I should prevent Flora’s marriage might provide some important information. Edith informed me that he held a Thursday morning surgery at eleven o’clock and so I set off – riding the faithful Willow – with the intention of arriving at ten. If the doctor was unable to see me then I could at any rate fix a time for a later appointment.

  I soon reached the large semi-detached villa on the outskirts of St Ives where Dr Goodwin shared a set of consulting rooms with Dr Theodore Leonard, the senior partner in their practice. I handed my card to his maid, saying that I wished to have a word concerning a confidential medical matter: it had occurred to me that if Dr Goodwin agreed to speak to me he might wish the reason for our meeting to remain a secret. Whether or not this subterfuge helped to reassure him I cannot say, but the upshot was that shortly afterwards I was led through a large consulting room and into his study.

  The personable young man who stood up to greet me was formally dressed in preparation for his morning surgery and seemed the model of the modern medical practitioner. There was however a certain nervousness in his manner which suggested that he had deduced my reason for visiting him unannounced. I decided that in the circumstances a direct approach would be best.

  ‘Dr Goodwin, we’ve already met briefly, as I’m sure you recall,’ I said. ‘I will be blunt. You must tell me what lay behind your comments to me on Tuesday morning. You begged me to prevent the forthcoming marriage between Flora Haywood and Sir Owen Velland. Why? What do you know about the baronet? Believe me when I say that what you have to tell me could be of vital importance. The outside world need know nothing of our conversation.’

  Dr Goodwin nodded slowly. ‘Very well, Mr Harker. I am prepared to speak openly to you and will tell you all that I know.

  ‘I joined Dr Leonard’s practice just over five years ago, in August 1890. It was my first professional appointment since completing my medical degree at Edinburgh and after
four years Dr Leonard was kind enough to make me his junior partner, the position which I now hold. Dr Leonard is a very experienced medical man, but now close to retirement.

  ‘You will know that in September 1890 Sir Owen Velland succeeded to the baronetcy on the death of his father and returned to Carrick Manor that same month, together with his older cousin, Mr Arnold Paxton. The previous baronet – Sir Eustace Velland – had been Dr Leonard’s patient and so naturally my colleague took on responsibility for the new residents. Sir Owen has always been in excellent health, but Dr Leonard was very concerned about the baronet’s cousin when he first met him. Paxton was fifty one years old at that time – eleven years older than Sir Owen – and according to Dr Leonard he was suffering from severe congestion of the heart, together with dropsy and other associated symptoms. The doctor felt that the poor man could hardly be expected to survive for another year and had told Paxton as much. Then in March 1891, some six months later, Dr Leonard developed a severe chill – he had been to see a patient and had been caught in a cloudburst on the way home – and at my insistence was confined to bed for a week.

  ‘Two days later an urgent message was received from Carrick Manor: could Dr Leonard come immediately, as Arnold Paxton had been thrown from his horse and had received a dangerous blow to the head. Of course there was no question of my troubling the doctor and so I left myself at once.

  ‘When I arrived at the Manor I was shown straight upstairs by the butler to the room where Paxton had been put to bed. With him was Sir Owen Velland, whom I had met briefly on a number of occasions. Sir Owen’s reaction upon seeing me was strange. He became very angry and demanded to know why Dr Leonard had not been sent. When I explained the reason and pointed out that I was as well qualified as my colleague – if not as experienced – the baronet reluctantly allowed me to look at his cousin.