‘There’s no way you can get out, Flora.’ McCallum’s voice came again, this time from further away. ‘This property might be neglected, but its fences are secure. You may as well give up.’
‘Shut up, you murderer,’ she whispered under her breath and peered through the leaves again. McCallum was nowhere in sight. Was he going back to the house or coming this way?
The line of bushes concealed a path that ran along the side of the house, at the end an impenetrable wall of brambles and overgrown nettles stood between her and the front drive. A glimpse of the railings through the tangle indicated she was headed in the right direction, but how to get through?
If she could avoid Caroline and find her way to the front of the house. If she could keep out of McCallum’s way long enough. If Bracenose had not locked the gate when he left. She groaned inwardly – too many ‘ifs’.
She eased through the thick shrubbery onto the path, but the only way open to her was through a glazed door that led back into the house. If she could stay undetected and reach the front door and onto the path, she might be able to reach the gates. If they were unlocked. Would they expect here to go back inside the house?
Her breathing came short and rapid, making her dizzy, but if she stayed there she would be seen. Shielding her eyes with a hand, she stared through the glass into what looked to be a snug, or maybe a housekeeper’s room; its far door open onto the dingy hall she had passed through when she arrived.
Her teeth gritted, she tugged the handle downwards. The door opened with a low, creak and assuming McCallum wouldn’t expect her to go back inside, she crept through the sparsely furnished room. It was about half the size of the sitting room and equally shabby. She stood behind the door for a moment, her ears pricked, listening for footsteps or voices, but heard nothing.
She peered round the jamb to where the hall ran from the back of the house to the front. The glazed front door with its stained glass flower pattern mocked her from the far end. Gathering her courage, she stepped into the hall and ran in that direction, feet pounding the thin carpet, the floorboards bouncing beneath her as the door grew larger in her vision.
She was almost there when a shadow loomed from a room on her left. McCallum’s hand closed round her wrist and he hauled her roughly backwards, her arm behind her back and he slammed her into the wall, face first. Terror surged through her as the air was pushed from her lungs, her cheek jammed against the slightly damp plaster, his other hand gripping the back of her head. Her eyes flew open in fear, the feel of his warm breath on her neck making her skin crawl.
He must have done the same thing as she had and backtracked through the sitting room she had first run from.
‘Did you really think I got you here to let you spoil everything?’ he growled in her ear.
‘Graham,’ Caroline called from the far end of the hall, both hands pressed to her cheeks, her eyes wide and fearful. ‘It’s no use. What good would hurting her do now?’
‘You’ll do what I say, Caro. My plan might still work.’ McCallum twisted Flora’s arm as if to make a point.
She gripped her bottom lip between her teeth but refused to cry out, though the pain made her feel sick – as if her arm was being pulled from its socket.
‘Heard of suicide through grief, have you?’ He pushed her harder into the wall, sending her shoulder into a spasm. ‘Let’s see. I reveal the truth of your birth over tea with Caroline, the shock of which is so great, you know that when your respectable husband discovers you were nothing but a bastard, he’ll insist on a divorce. With nothing left to look forward to, why wouldn’t you end your life?’
He laughed again, the low, self-congratulatory laugh of a confident man. Or an insane one. ‘Perhaps the spot you choose it also the same one your father’s horse threw him? Is that enough shame and grief to send you temporarily mad? I think so and I’ll certainly make the police believe you were deranged enough when you went rushing out of here. His hold on her arm relaxed slightly and she shifted a hair’s breadth, easing the pressure on her ribs, but not enough so she could wriggle out of his grasp.
‘Come on, Flora.’ He yanked her by the hair away from the wall, twisting her a half turn towards the door. ‘Let’s go and find a suitably large rock, shall we?’
Anger and pain swept through her and, defiant, she lifted her left foot and putting as her full weight behind it, brought the narrow heel of her boot down hard on his instep.
He issued a furious yell of agony, followed by a colourful curse, his hold slackening enough for her to lever her arm from his grip and jab her other elbow into his throat. Before he could recover, she whirled around, straightened her hand and thrust two fingers into his eyes, congratulating herself she had not trimmed her fingernails that morning. He screamed, brought one hand to his face and staggered blindly towards her.
‘Graham!’ Caroline gasped and dashed towards him.
Aware he would be on her again in seconds, Flora shoved Caroline hard. She careered into him and together they staggered against the wall, sliding to the floor in a tangle of ruffled skirt and trouser legs. Flora ran for the front door, assuming from the thumps and curses from behind her, he had bundled her aside, but she didn’t stop to look.
She fumbled with the catch for several heart-stopping seconds until it finally gave and she jerked it open, threw herself off the porch and lurched in the direction of the gates. They weren’t visible from the front of the house, but with each footstep she prayed they had been left open. Her throat burned with the effort of pulling hot summer air into her lungs, spurred onwards by her pursuer’s low growl of anger as he pounded after her.
How long had she been inside the house? Surely Bracenose had reached the Abbey by now? Perhaps Bunny hadn’t returned from his mysterious appointment yet? Or had Bracenose deserted her and she was on her own?
Cursing the fact she was hampered by layers of petticoats and a corset, she vowed not to make it easy for him. Unless he was willing to strangle her on a public road, her feet and fingernails might buy her some time.
These thoughts raced through her head in a half second, while the rhythmic sound of hooves drew closer. From the corner of her eye, she sensed a hand reach out to grab her and swerved sharp right, just as a horse-drawn carriage took the curve into their path.
She only had time to register a pair of flared nostrils beneath rolling eyes as the bulk of a horse filled her vision. Instinctively, she threw herself sideways just as something hard caught her hip, sending her sprawling onto the gravel. She rolled right, just as she caught sight of the driver’s mouth opening in a terrified yell as he hauled back on the reins.
The horses thundered past in a blur of shiny brown flanks, flailing hooves and wheels, followed by the driver’s frantic ‘Woah!’ and a high-pitched feminine scream.
Flora’s heart drummed in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she fought for control. She tried to move, but the grinding pain that radiated along her left leg changed her mind. She lifted her hands gingerly, one stretched out on the gravel and the other half twisted beneath her. A brief look told her a layer of fine gravel lodged in both palms beneath which blood oozed. Slowly, her limbs responded to her silent plea to work, causing a burning pain into her hands.
The sound of a carriage door being flung open followed by the crunch of footsteps on gravel drifted toward her. Shouts from far off penetrated her consciousness. Another scream, then a frantic call of her name, but she couldn’t think or make sense of any of it.
‘Oh, my God, we ran you down.’ Bunny hauled her clumsily upright and gathered her into a suffocating hug, her face nestled in the gap between his shoulder and neck. ‘Flora, are you all right? Can you speak? Where are you hurt?’
His Floris cologne filled her senses, but ridiculously, all his frantic pleas did was make her giggle.
‘Not your fault.’ She found her voice at last, though tears hovered close. Then memory returned and she grabbed his lapel, sending sharp pain throu
gh her injured hand. ‘McCallum. He was right behind me. He was going to—’
‘Don’t worry about him, sweetheart,’ Bunny whispered. ‘He can’t hurt you now. Can you stand?’
‘I think so.’ She put her weight on her left leg which sent fresh pain through her side. Lethargy overcame her, and she flopped back down again. ‘Leave me here. I’ll get up in a minute or two.’
‘Silly girl, you can’t stay here.’ He ran a brisk hand down each of her legs in turn, then did the same to her arms. ‘I couldn’t have borne it if we had arrived too late,’ he muttered as he carried out his examination.
‘Well you didn’t.’ She giggled again, light-headed. ‘And you’re being rather forward, Mr Harrington.’ Her lip quivered and tears threatened. ‘I cannot tell you how good it is to see you.’
Bunny wrapped an arm round her waist, pulling her gently to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s get you into the carriage.’
The horses stamped and threw up their heads, their necks gently stroked by a young groom who murmured soothing words in an attempt to settle them.
Every muscle protested as Bunny guided her up the step into the driverless carriage. Favouring her sore hip, she manoeuvred into the corner seat by means of a series of hops and slides.
‘Someone screamed.’ Flora frowned, remembering. ‘Caroline. Is she hurt?
‘No.’ Bunny’s clipped tone and the fact he avoided her eye told her something awful had happened.
‘I hope you brought the police?’ She angled her head to see the length of the drive through the window. ‘McCallum mustn’t get away, he—’ she broke off as the full weight of what she had discovered crashed in on her. ‘He killed Father.’
‘I know, darling.’ Bunny reached through the carriage door and grasped her hand in both of his. ‘William is here, and-uh McCallum didn’t get away. He was so intent on catching you, he ran straight into us.’ He gave an almost imperceptible nod past her shoulder.
Flora turned and followed his gaze to figures of William and the coach driver about ten feet away. On the ground between them lay Graham McCallum, his head twisted at an unnatural angle, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a grimace.
‘Is he—’ Flora’s question was made irrelevant as William removed his jacket and placed it over the top half of the body. She waited for the shock of his death to hit her, but nothing happened. No sympathy or even triumph, simply mild surprise. After all McCallum had said, done and threatened, he had succumbed to a similar end as her father. Crushed beneath the hooves of a horse.
She slanted a glance sideways, to where Caroline stood unmoving by the open front door, her face stark white while large tears carved lines into a layer of face powder.
‘She wore cosmetics,’ Flora said idly, then grasped Bunny’s sleeve in the fingers of one hand. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you,’ she gabbled. ‘I had no idea he would be here, or I wouldn’t have come.’
‘It’s not important now.’ Bunny stepped back, his place taken by William.
‘Are you all right, Flora?’ His voice shook slightly, and he seemed different somehow. The same man she had always known but a shadow lurked behind the normally sparkling eyes and ready smile. Or was that her own mind twisting what McCallum had told her? He must have been lying. It couldn’t be true about William and her mother.
She murmured something unintelligible, her head down as she rearranged her ruined skirt over her knees, ignoring the burning in her hands, though she senses a loaded look had passed between William and Bunny.
‘I’m glad,’ William said shakily. ‘I’ll uh-see you both back at the Abbey.’
‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t come back with us,’ Bunny suggested, while Flora continued to stare at her hands, which were badly grazed with streaks of blood mixed with dirt and torn skin.
William made a sound as if about to say something, then seemed to change his mind. ‘Uh, no, I’ll stay here and wait for the police. Caroline is in a dreadful state.’ Flora jerked her head towards him and he rushed on, ‘Not that I care after what she has done, but I want to make sure she says the right things to the police when they get here.’ He cocked his chin at the pathetic figure on the porch who appeared to have aged a decade. ‘She hasn’t grasped that she’ll has some explaining to do. She might even face charges.’
Bunny clambered into the carriage beside Flora, the slam of the door making her wince, and wrap her arms round herself.
‘You’ll have to speak to William at some stage,’ Bunny said gently. He tugged a handkerchief from his top pocket, pulled her nearest hand toward him and gently wrapped it around the worst of the cuts. ‘He would have talked to you before today, but I made him wait.’
‘It’s not true you know. About William.’ She snatched her hand away and finished tying the cotton herself, though she made a rough job of it one-handed.
‘I’m afraid it is,’ he said, his voice almost a whisper.’
‘It can’t be. And if it is, then why didn’t you tell me?’ She avoided his eye, conscious she was being cruel, but couldn’t help the raw anger that surged inside her mixed with humiliation that she had been lied to for so long. Her more rational inner voice told her it wasn’t Bunny’s fault, but he was closest, thus destined to bear the weight of her resentment. The other Flora, the one who had been terrified, threatened and had run for her life wanted nothing but to fall into his arms and feel safe again. Have him whisper his love to her, reassure her that nothing would change. That he wouldn’t demand a divorce as McCallum had implied.
‘Don’t, Flora.’ Bunny wrapped an arm round her stiff shoulders. ‘I didn’t want to keep it from you. William told me last night and asked that I wait until he could speak to you in private. Neither of us imagined you would find out like this.’
‘He’s lied to me all his life. And mine.’ Flora ran her unbound hand along her skirt but stopped when the fabric caught on the cuts and made her wince. ‘He always wanted me to call him Uncle William. Did you know that?’
‘What else could he have done? Your fath— Riordan insisted you must not be told. William respected his wishes as Riordan was the one who raised you.’
‘And that’s another thing. Why?’ Her breathing came fast and painfully as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Why did he raise me after my mother went missing? He had no responsibility for me. I wasn’t his.’
‘Because he loved you, of course. You were all he had left of Lily.’
‘Did-did William use Mother and then leave her? Is that how it happened?’
‘Not the way he tells the story.’
‘The way he tells—’ She turned away, unable to take everything in. ‘This is too much all at once. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that McCallum killed my father.’ Bunny looked about to speak but let it go with a sigh. ‘And yes,’ she added. ‘I’ll still call him my father, because that’s what he was.’ She was grateful when he didn’t contradict her, but simply nodded and remained silent.
With the horses now calmed, the driver turned the carriage in a full circle. Before they reached the curve in the drive, Flora stared through the rear window. Caroline was nowhere to be seen, though a footman stood beside the body on the ground.
William had mounted the front step to the house, his feet apart and hands in his pockets. He gazed at the retreating coach with a look of regret, mixed with abject misery.
26
‘McCallum was always so calm, so sure of himself,’ Flora said. ‘He even encouraged me to question Dr Fairbrother about my father’s accident. Why would he do that when he might have incriminated himself?’
‘He knew the doctor was stick to his conviction Riordan had died accidentally. Perhaps he hoped with your questions about poisoning he might change his mind about his insistence the farm workers had neuritis which posed a risk to his insurance claim.’
‘Why didn’t he get another doctor to look at the workmen? Someone more intuitive would have detected the arsenic. Regina
ld Meeks did.’
‘When the original diagnoses exonerated the brewery? That would have been even more suspicious. He wasn’t going to let it go though as he sent a sample of the mash to the Owens College Laboratory, the one who did the original tests in Manchester. They verified it contained arsenic most likely from contaminated sugars. McCallum sent the report to the insurance company because, in his words, he did so in an attempt to confirm the doctor’s diagnosis. He knew all along it would do the opposite. McCallum claimed he had bought tons of the stuff which he would have to destroy. They were on the verge of paying his claim too, but that’s unlikely now.’
‘I think Caroline did invite me to tea quite innocently. Then she heard Bracenose telling me he thought he would be blamed for the fête incident. She changed her story.’
‘In which case why was McCallum there?’ Bunny dabbed her forehead with another handkerchief that came away bloodied. ‘Don’t give her any credit, they were in it together. You were lured there for a reason.’
‘Is that why you didn’t want me to go to her house today?’ She winced as his finger encountered a sore spot.
Bunny nodded. ‘William suspected Caroline and McCallum were up to something, so he suggested we do some investigation of our own. He saw Caroline and McCallum together on the night of your father’s death when their liaison was supposed to have ended. Then when McCallum argued with Scrivens, he knew there was more to it.’
‘Eddy saw that too. But I didn’t know what it meant at the time. Scrivens set fire to our house.’ Flora shuddered at the thought of how much worse it might have been had the blaze not been discovered.
‘I know.’
She jerked around to look at him, the sudden movement making her head spin. ‘How do you know? I only discovered that this afternoon.’
‘It’s complicated. Anyway, let’s not worry about that now. I’ll explain later.’
‘I’m still not clear as to why McCallum wanted me dead. I’m no threat to either him or Caroline.’
Murder at Cleeve Abbey Page 29
