Kate turned her dark eyes to him. “Oh, Asher, what could be nicer than a row on the river?”
Elsie kept her head down, saying nothing. Almost as though she did not care.
“We’ll see,” he said.
Kate’s knees had very nearly buckled when she recognized Simon Wakeham. Once she recovered, she’d fully expected that shock to boil into anger. In fact, she’d steeled herself for it. The heat had only flamed in her cheeks, however, not her blood.
She should resent him much more, considering how he’d yanked her from Martineau’s chair and humiliated her that awful night of the séance. Wakeham was just as guilty as Mr. Thompson for getting her sacked, wasn’t he? Yet she felt no overwhelming desire to hold him accountable. Billy’s death made her shame seem a small thing.
And if she considered the matter from another angle, Wakeham’s actions had set in motion something quite pleasant—several days of good meals and a comfortable bed, not to mention society with people her age who actually spent time outdoors in daylight.
Kate couldn’t fail to note the way Elsie’s face softened under Wakeham’s gaze, how her cheeks dimpled when she smiled at him. Nor could she ignore the glower Asher directed at the handsome pair as they walked arm in arm—like that of a wolf who had failed to defend his territory.
In her mind, Elsie and Asher would each benefit from a swift kick in the rear. Something that would redirect their minds to the matter at hand, anyhow. They needed—well, she needed—to find out who killed Billy before the trail ran cold. She owed that to Billy, and she couldn’t do it without them.
But rather than kicking, she joined them in waving farewell to Mr. Wakeham and Dr. Marshall at the college gate. Once the two gentlemen were out of hearing, she affected a casual tone. “I suggest we meet in the college garden before supper so we can discuss Elsie’s vision in more detail.”
Rather than answer, Elsie gazed dreamily into the distance, which only made Asher frown. Keeping a tight rein on her impatience, Kate stood still and waited. The seconds dragged by, but she refused to break the silence herself.
“Fine,” Asher said at last. “If Miss Atherton feels up to the task.”
Elsie blinked, as if waking out of a dream, and turned to him. “Quite up to it, Mr. Beale.”
Kate managed a sober nod and turned away, waiting until she was a safe distance before she allowed herself to chuckle at their nonsense.
Later that afternoon, refreshed by luncheon and a nap, Kate borrowed an old quilt from Mrs. Thompson and, with Elsie’s help, spread it upon an open patch of grass in the garden. Before long Asher joined them, settling on the grass a few feet away. He pulled a pencil and a battered notebook from his pocket.
“I think it’s best to record all the details Elsie can remember.”
Kate nodded, strangely cheered by this gesture. For the moment Asher seemed to be taking the spirit encounter seriously. “Elsie, why don’t you tell us everything you recall? Don’t worry about getting it in order—we can work that out when Asher’s written it all down.”
Elsie stared into the distance, her brow furrowed. “Billy said he’d been caught pilfering letters from a gentleman’s study.”
“Good,” said Kate, glancing over to see Asher dutifully scratching in his notebook. “Did he say what sort of letters?”
“They were from someone named Stanton.”
Kate turned to stare at Elsie. “What?”
“My goodness,” Elsie gasped. “It didn’t occur to me then, but Stanton was your father, wasn’t he?”
“He was.” Kate thought for a moment. “Billy was searching out clues for the séance. Martineau was pretending to contact my father, so the man who hurt Billy may also have known him. What else did Billy say?”
“The man told Billy he must provide him with information, or else he’d turn him in to the police. Like I told you before, Billy had to give him the name of a tramp—someone drunk and useless. The man wanted to use this person for an experiment that would improve him.”
“What could that possibly mean?” Kate asked. “How do you improve an old drunk?”
Asher tapped his pencil against the notebook. “Clean him up, get him proper clothes, and teach him manners, I suppose. Somehow break his addiction to spirits. But why waste your time? And why would such a do-gooder wish to hurt a young boy?” He turned to Elsie. “All right. Then what?”
“He said it gave him an idea for a scheme—that he took some of the man’s papers and hid them. Then he searched him out after the séance.”
“He was trying to blackmail this man?” Asher looked up from the notebook. “No wonder he was in danger.”
Kate flinched. It was the scheme that did him in—Billy had taken things too far.
“That narrows it down a bit, too,” Asher continued, writing in the notebook again. “This man who hurt Billy knew Stanton and was at Saturday’s séance.”
Kate turned to Elsie. “Did Billy say the gentleman attended the séance?”
Elsie frowned. “I’m not certain, but I clearly remember him saying he met the man after the séance.”
“Met him where?” Kate asked.
“He didn’t say.” Elsie paused, her eyes dropping to the ground.
“Still, we have a connection to Stanton and a connection to the séance,” Asher said. “I think we should be considering members of the Metaphysical Society. Which Society members were at the séance?”
Kate numbered them on her fingers. “Mr. Thompson, Mr. Eliot … and Simon Wakeham, of course.” She dared not look at Elsie.
“So it very well could be Simon Wakeham.” Asher’s tone was a little too hopeful, to Kate’s mind.
Elsie stiffened. “Simon Wakeham wouldn’t hurt a child.”
“You’ve only just met him, Elsie,” said Asher. “For all you know he’s the Ripper of Cambridge, preying on tramps and street urchins rather than prostitutes.”
“Oh, Asher!”
“There’s no need to be so provoking,” Kate said quickly. “I for one don’t see how Simon Wakeham could have letters from my father. The man died three years ago. Wakeham would have been a student then, wouldn’t he?”
Asher’s shoulders sank ever so slightly. “Maybe your father was a mentor of some sort. I don’t know.”
“What about Dr. Marshall?” asked Elsie.
Kate shook her head. “I don’t remember him at the séance.”
“Mr. Eliot was there,” said Elsie. “What about him? He was the one you were running away from last night, wasn’t he?”
Kate shuddered. “Yes. He was Martineau’s patron.”
“So you weren’t actually ill,” said Asher. “Has that Eliot fellow threatened you?”
Kate thought of his hands groping her during the spirit performances. Martineau knew there was something beastly about him—she had to. Perhaps I will allow Mr. Eliot to discipline you, she’d said that night with a knowing gleam in her eye.
Of course, it wasn’t as though Kate had been sitting primly in a chair as he reached for her. She’d been prancing about in her underpinnings, just as Martineau bade her. Her cheeks burned at the thought. A wanton little spirit was asking to be groped, wasn’t she?
“Kate?”
She blinked. “I thought if Eliot saw me yesterday evening, he would surely recognize me as the spirit apparition. And yes, he threatened me the night Mr. Thompson and Mr. Wakeham exposed Martineau. Said he’d take me to the police. I feared they might lock me up for defrauding innocent people.”
“Not so innocent,” said Asher. “Foolish is more like it. I can’t imagine any of them stepping forth to press charges. They’d be too ashamed, or at least they ought to be.” He looked down at his notes. “So we know three Society members who were at the séance—Thompson, Eliot, and Wakeham. One might argue Mrs. Martineau’s primary goal was to impress Mr. Eliot and his friends with specific details, and those details could have been obtained from anyone who knew Stanton well. However, it must be someone w
ho lives in Cambridge, correct? Unless Billy traveled outside the city for his sleuthing.”
Kate shook her head. “The little detectives cast a wide net, but I’m certain their targets were all within walking distance. Martineau’s funds were limited, after all.” She sighed. “We’ve narrowed the suspects, but we still have no idea why a Society member would hurt Billy. And we still don’t know how it happened. What else, Elsie?”
“Let me think.… He said the man treated him kindly. Gave him something to drink. And then Billy felt a pain in his chest, as though he’d been stabbed.”
“There was no stab wound on his body,” said Kate.
“He didn’t say he’d been stabbed. Just that it felt as though he’d been.”
“A drink followed by a pain in the chest,” Asher said. “Do you think Billy’s drink could have been poisoned?”
Kate winced. “A poison that makes you feel like you’ve been stabbed?”
“He felt the pain in his heart. And then he saw himself.” Elsie frowned in concentration. “Billy saw the man standing over his own body, which was … how did he put it? Shaking and jerking.”
“The Spiritualists are always going on about ‘out-of-body’ experiences,” Asher said. “They seem fascinated by the idea of one seeing his or her own death.”
“I’m just telling you what he told me,” Elsie said flatly.
An uncomfortable pause followed. When Kate turned to glare at Asher, he surprised her by nodding thoughtfully.
“It is interesting to contemplate,” he said. “A poison that stops the heart and makes one convulse. Perhaps I should spend some time in the library tomorrow identifying such a poison?”
Kate shrugged. “I don’t see how it would help us find his killer.”
“And I don’t see how it could hurt. Anything else, Elsie?” Asher looked over his notes. “Something you couldn’t remember before?”
“I’ve told you everything.” Elsie frowned. “But I keep thinking of the old lab. This experiment Billy mentioned—what if it involved something more than merely cleaning up an old drunk? I can’t think why a boy would be killed over that. If the experiment was something darker, something dangerous …” She looked away from Asher, staring into the distance. “Might it have taken place in a disused lab hidden among the trees of a small college? I can’t shake this notion that something terrible happened at the old Summerfield laboratory.” She lowered her voice. “And that my uncle might know something about it.”
“But he said he couldn’t find the key,” said Kate.
“Perhaps he won’t find the key—not for you, anyway.” Asher scribbled another note on his paper.
Kate studied Elsie. The girl now stared at her hands, clasping and unclasping them. “Part of me wonders if I should just tell Simon Wakeham what I’ve seen,” Elsie finally said. “This is the very sort of thing he studies—perhaps with his help we could obtain more information?” Her expression brightened.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Asher. “We can’t discount him as a suspect, and therefore it’s too dangerous for you to expose yourself in such a way.”
Elsie sighed. “Really, Asher, I think you’re exaggerating—”
“I just don’t think we should trust Wakeham. Not yet, anyway.” Asher closed his notebook. “I’ve written everything down. The question is what do we do next?”
“Perhaps we should return to Castle End and try once more,” Kate said. “Elsie may get more details from Billy the second time.”
Elsie wrapped her arms around her body. “I don’t know. That place gives me the shivers.”
“I think Elsie needs a day or two to rest. Perhaps we should revisit the matter tomorrow?” Asher stood. “Mrs. Thompson will expect us for dinner soon enough. See you then?”
Kate smiled. “Yes, of course.”
They watched in silence as Asher walked back to the Gatehouse.
“I wish he wasn’t so predisposed against Simon Wakeham,” said Elsie, once he was out of hearing.
Kate glanced sidelong at her. “It’s only natural, Elsie. You must have noticed that he’s a bit keen on you.”
“Asher, or Mr. Wakeham?”
Kate giggled. “Both, I’m sure.”
Elsie lay back on the blanket. “What a muddle. We’re hardly any closer to knowing who killed Billy. I’m sorry, Kate.” She rubbed her eyes. “I must try again, but at the moment the notion overwhelms me.”
Kate settled next to her and stared at the cloudy sky. “Mrs. Martineau acted like the spirit world gave her power, but we know she was a fake. What’s it really like, Elsie?”
Elsie was quiet for a moment. “I lose control,” she finally said. “My body is pulled into a sickening, spiraling fall. It terrifies me. Getting sucked into that dark place—not knowing if I’ll be trapped there forever.”
“But if you could control it, think of the fortune you might make,” Kate said gently.
“I don’t want to be a medium—you wouldn’t wish such a life for me, would you?”
Kate met her gaze. “It might give you independence.”
“A precarious sort of independence, I think. The last thing I’d want is to perform for crowds.” Elsie looked away. “I just want to better understand it all. Today I learned that, to an outsider, I look to be in a trance. Even if I’m speaking to a spirit in the dark between, you don’t hear it, correct?”
Kate nodded. “Your eyes were open, but otherwise you didn’t move.”
“Well, what if I were in danger? What if a spirit could somehow harm me in the dark between? You wouldn’t know. There would be no way for you to rescue me.”
“All the more reason for you to learn how to control the visions. Isn’t that better than taking more and more of the drug to keep them away? That seems far too dangerous.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Elsie’s brow furrowed. “Last night, when Simon Wakeham took my hand, I could almost feel a spell coming on. But I concentrated, breathing deeply to calm myself, and somehow held it off. It would be a relief not to take the dose every day. And yet I feel so ill when I’ve gone too long without it.”
“You could try to wean yourself slowly.”
“I know. I want to be strong enough to do that.” She took Kate’s hand. “You will come rowing with us, won’t you?”
“I have work in the library, and I’m afraid your aunt will sack me if I ask for more time away.”
“Oh, she’ll be pleased you’ve agreed to accompany us. You know she thinks of you as more than a servant. You’re a guest, Kate.”
Kate shrugged, secretly pleased by these words.
“I won’t be able to go if you don’t come, too,” added Elsie.
So she was to be the chaperone? How tiresome. It was on Kate’s lips to decline, to protest that Mrs. Thompson would prefer she keep to her employment, but Elsie’s expression was desperate. The girl deserved a pleasant afternoon after the morning’s episode. “Fine. You arrange it with Mrs. Thompson and I’ll come along. As I said before, in all these years in Cambridge, I’ve never boated the Cam.” Kate took a deep breath. “But you must do something for me in return.”
“Absolutely. What can I do?”
“Go with me now to the old laboratory.”
“Why?”
“I want to see if we can get in without the key. I know you feel as I do—something happened to Billy in that building.”
Elsie nodded slowly. “There may be an unlocked window.”
“You’d be surprised by how small a space I can fit through,” Kate said with a grin.
Chapter 21
Elsie ran her hand along the old lab’s rough brick, trying to sense what had happened inside. How did one access those dark places consciously? She watched her hand skidding along the brick and imagined her mind having similar fingers, reaching out for spirit thoughts, emotions … pain. When she closed her eyes she thought something might be there, just out of her reach. A heaviness hung in the air, cold and
dark, but it eluded the fingers of her mind.
The sound of Kate’s voice dragged her even farther from it.
“The door is still locked, and I can’t see. The curtains are drawn.”
Elsie blinked, focusing on Kate. “You’ve checked every window?”
“Yes, but this one tempts me.” Kate scrutinized the bottom half of a tall window that extended lower than the others. “Do you see that pane up there by the latch? It’s cracked. If I could push that piece through, we might be able to reach inside to unlatch the window.” Kate looked about her, then picked up a slim branch that lay near the building.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” said Elsie, but Kate had already poked the small section of pane. Elsie heard the tinkle of glass shattering inside the building.
“Easy enough,” said Kate, dropping the branch and wiping her hands on her skirt. “The gardener will think it fell out on its own, if he even sees it. But I can’t reach the latch without your help.”
“What can I do?”
“Make a step with your hands.” Kate bent over and laced her fingers together. “See?”
Elsie knew she could have refused and ended the matter; the girl could not pull herself up to the windowsill. But the vision of Billy’s pale face, his pathetic confusion, still haunted her. If something terrible had happened in this building, they might be very close to learning what it was.
She leaned over and made the step. Kate placed her small foot on it and grasped Elsie’s shoulder. “Now lift me a few inches,” she said. With a groan Elsie hoisted her up, bracing Kate’s legs as the girl slipped her thin arm through the hole and reached for the inner latch.
“Young lady, just what do you think you are doing?”
Elsie turned to find her uncle standing several feet away, mouth clenched and nostrils flaring. She heard Kate curse softly as she jerked her arm out of the window.
“Come down from there at once!”
“Uncle!” Elsie cried, her knees wobbling. “We were … we were just—”
The Dark Between Page 16
