The North Sea House: a gothic romance

by Camille Oster

  "Mr. Jenkins has copies of all the keys."

  "Jenkins," Vivienne repeated with a frown. There was a second key and someone had used it to let her out last night, and then locked her in again. A shiver worked down her back at the idea that all these things happened while she wasn't aware.

  "I see," she said. This had to be dealt with. She would have to speak to Mr. Jenkins about it. It couldn't be him doing this, could it? He was the person with a spare key to her room.

  Putting her hands up to her mouth, she stroked down her chin. Something had to be done. But right now, she walked over to the table to see a weak-looking broth. Steam rose from it.

  "Archie," she said. "I have some broth for you. It will strengthen you." He looked lost and confused as he opened his eyes slightly. "This will warm you too."

  To be safe, she took a sip from the broth. It tasted perfectly fine. Then she helped Archie get a few spoonfuls into him, but he'd had enough after only a few. Hopefully it was enough to revive him somewhat. Some was better than none.

  Brynnell came into the room a few hours after he'd left, dressed now without his jacket. There was a smear of mud on his waistcoat.

  "How is he?" he asked, looking down on his friend.

  "He sleeps much. I just gave him some broth. Mrs. Sims brought it up."

  Brynnell shifted and looked at it.

  "I tried it myself and it was fine. I can't see any reason why Mrs. Sims would wish to harm him."

  "No," Brynnell said absently and moved away. "The slip is severe."

  "Are we marooned here, then?"

  "Yes."

  "The boy, Clive, is going to trek across it to the village."

  "I hope it's safe."

  "I am sure he will be. Even when they come. It will take some time to clear it. An entire hillside gave way."

  "We might run out of food if it takes too long."

  "It is a bridge we will have to deal with as it comes. We might have to take to fishing off the cliffs."

  That could hardly be safe, but then neither was starvation. Or being stuck in a house with a murderer.

  Shifting in her seat beside Archie, she turned to him. "I wandered in my sleep last night."

  His eyebrow rose, but he didn't say anything.

  "My room was locked," she continued. "And I didn't have the key. John had it."

  "So how do you know you wandered?"

  "There was evidence on my feet and the sheets."

  "But your room was locked?"

  "Yes."

  He was quiet for a while. "I understand this is not a habit you normally do."

  "No, not since I was a child."

  "Curious."

  It felt more than curious. It frightened her to the bone. "Mr. Jenkins has a second key to my room."

  In stillness, he watched her for a while as he absorbed the information. "Something very strange is going on here. But these attempts have not happened during the night. They both happened during the day."

  "Yes," she said.

  "I think we must get that second key from Mr. Jenkins," he said and Vivienne nodded. "Do not be so worried. We will find this culprit, and we must work together to do so. We will be careful and we'll watch each other's backs."

  His words were encouraging. For a moment, she'd felt her nerves running away with her, but she kept on nodding. His assurance made her feel more confident, and she smiled.

  "It is strange feeling so scared and uncertain when the sun shines outside." Today really was the nicest day they'd had here. The storm had blown the clouds away and there was sunshine that glittered off the sea. But the brightness of the day competed with the darkness that had settled over this house. "I spoke to Mrs. Sims," she said, looking up into Brynnell's eyes. A kind of vertigo hit her when she did, but she couldn't entirely bring herself to look away, until she cleared her throat and forced herself. "There is clearly no love lost between her and Mrs. Bollingworth. Said Miss Trubright's disposition turned her spiteful and sullen. There was apparently not much love lost between Miss Trubright and Jonathan Fitzgerald either."

  "This is not a house of love, it seems.”

  Vivienne didn't quite understand what he meant, but it seemed none of the inhabitants had been happy. Jonathan's journal showed a very normal, happy young man, but the history since suggested otherwise. "Mrs. Sims alluded to something about Miss Trubright having her heart broken in her youth, but the story told talks about the scandal involving Jonathan Fitzgerald. So perhaps you are right."

  "I will go change and then I will sit with Archie for a while."

  "Do you really think someone is trying to harm him?"

  "Yes. I just don't understand why, or how any of this fits in. The journal, the attempt to push Mrs. Bollingworth and now this attempt on Archie's life. Even the Bollingworths’ overturned carriage. Someone is enacting their plans."

  "But we cannot know if this is planned, or if it is simply opportunity," she said.

  "No, the poisoning was very much planned. It had to be to only poison one person and not everyone. That had to be meticulously planned."

  "Jenkins is the only person who handled his plate."

  "But anyone could have before supper started, knowing the first plate would be placed before Archie."

  "Except if it was a misguided attempt on Mrs. Bollingworth's life. I supposed it is understandable that she would accuse Mrs. Sims as they clearly don't like each other."

  Looking to the door, he looked back and leaned closer. "When it comes to murder, the culprit is usually closer to home."

  Vivienne blinked, trying to slow her heart that sped with his nearness. Then he pulled away and walked out the door. She watched the space he’d left behind, then heard a cough from Archie that drew her over to the bed.

  "Are you alright?" she asked. "Do you need some water?"

  He nodded and she lifted his head up to assist him drink, drinking deeper now than he had before.

  His eyes were open when she lay his head down again. More lucid than before. He croaked as if he wanted to say something and she leaned closer.

  "He likes you," he said in a dry, gravelly voice.

  "What?"

  Leaning back, she saw he had his eyes closed and was smiling weakly. What was that supposed to mean? Was he talking about Brynnell? Heat flared up her cheeks. "You're having strange dreams, my friend. That's all," she said and nudged his arm. Clearly they had been observed just now, but there was nothing in that conversation that should give Archie such an impression. It had been pure practicality.

  Chapter 24

  "ADMIT YOU PUT POISON in Mr. Percival's food," Mrs. Bollingworth demanded. Mrs. Sims stood with her apron on and her head held high, facing everyone seated in the salon.

  "Mrs. Bollingworth, please. I'm sure this isn't helpful," John said appeasingly.

  "Helpful? The woman poisoned Mr. Percival and she pushed me down the stairs."

  "I did no such thing," Mrs. Sims said sternly, defending herself.

  "Are you sure, Mrs. Sims, that it could not have been something that happened accidentally?"

  "I have never poisoned anyone in my life, accidental or not."

  "If that were the case, we would all have fallen sick," Horace said.

  Vivienne sat and watched, feeling sorry for Mrs. Sims, who was obviously more flustered than she let on, because her neck glowed red, while her countenance was as straight and rigid as could be.

  "And don't go accusing my Clive with your wild accusations, or you will be making your own food from now on." It was a grave threat indeed, because no one in this house, except for her, had an inkling of how to prepare a meal.

  "And now he's scarpered, hasn't he?" Mrs. Bollingworth continued.

  "He's gone to get help, you spiteful cow."

  "See how she speaks to me," Mrs. Bollingworth said as if it were proof of her accusations.

  "Clive was kind enough to trek to the village to assist us," John said.

  This was pointless, Vivien
ne conceded, and she was glad that Brynnell had stayed upstairs with Archie rather than come down and witness this atrocity.

  "Could you perhaps explain what was in the food and how it was prepared?" Horace asked.

  With indignity, Mrs. Sims went through the process.

  "You could not perhaps have added some seeds from the castor plant. Their leaves can look like rosemary."

  "And why would I have castor plants in my kitchen garden?" Mrs. Sims challenged.

  "It is true. There is no such plant in the garden, or any other poisonous ones," Horace confirmed. “I looked this morning.”

  "I think that is all, Mrs. Sims," Lewis said. "You have our deepest gratitude for your cooperation."

  Truthfully, Vivienne hadn't known that Lewis had it in him to be so tactful. Being without seemed to be his typical aim.

  Mrs. Sims left.

  "You cannot believe her lies," Mrs. Bollingworth said. "You would not believe the things that went missing from this house. Miss Trubright could never prove it, but she knew the woman pilfers anything she could get her hands on."

  "There is no proof of anything," Mrs Dartmoor said.

  "Except that someone definitely poisoned Archie," Sophie said.

  "And pushed me down the stairs," Mrs. Bollingworth added. "And someone definitely placed that journal in my room. No one has owned up to that."

  "Mrs. Bollingworth," Vivienne started. "Did you know where the journal came from?"

  "It is Mr. Fitzgerald's journal," she said.

  "I know, but did you know where it was before it appeared in your room."

  "I've never seen it before in my life."

  "In all the years you lived here, you never saw it? Not in the library?"

  "Ever. As if it appeared out of thin air."

  "What about you, Mr. Jenkins?" Vivienne said, turning to the silent man behind them.

  "I have not seen it before either."

  "Then where did it come from?" Perhaps Clive knew where it had been. Then again, if someone had put it in Mrs. Bollingworth's room, would they admit to knowing where it had been?

  The interrogation ended and everyone returned to whatever kept them entertained. Sophie and Lewis went to the cards table, probably to keep on bickering.

  "I think I will go for a walk," Mrs. Dartmoor said. "Care to join me?"

  "I think I will," Vivienne agreed. "You should come too, John."

  John didn't complain and they all went to retrieve their coats from Mr. Jenkins. The wind blustered outside, but it didn't have the cutting iciness. This was probably as gentle as the wind got here, Vivienne guessed.

  They walked in silence, and throughout, Vivienne went over the things people had said. Could Mr. Bollingworth secretly despise his wife enough to try to rid himself of her? She wasn't the most charming person, but to murder one's wife, it was inconceivable. But then they were naïve apparently, where such thoughts completely absurd to them and not so to others. The idea was very disturbing. And Mrs. Bollingworth's assertion that you could never know what lived in someone's heart.

  And finally Archie's assertion that Brynnell liked her. That was the hardest to contemplate, and even now she blushed. Archie was delirious, of course. Any truth to the statement was inconceivable.

  "It is a very difficult climb down," John said. "I spoke to Mr. Jenkins before and he knows quite a bit about the history of the area. They were Parliamentarians here during the civil war, then royalists when Cromwell held Parliament."

  "Perpetually contrary," Mrs. Dartmoor. "Some are like that in remote places. They don't like outsiders coming in, whether king or conqueror."

  "Didn't like whomever they had to pay tax to, I suspect," John said. "Mr. Jenkins said they smuggled all sorts of things when the king would heavily tax imports. From Holland."

  "It's quite far out of the way," Vivienne suggested.

  "Which was perhaps why it was easy. The king's men wouldn't be searching up here as much as they did down south. They were different times then."

  "I think we must return soon before it gets dark," Mrs. Dartmoor said, looking out to the horizon.

  "And to Mrs. Sims lovely supper," John said.

  "Although," Mrs. Dartmoor smiled, "if Mrs. Sims had the urge to purposefully poison the food, it would be tonight. I don't think she likes any of us terribly much right now."

  "After dragging her up from the kitchen and interrogating her like we did," John said. "Although if Mrs. Bollingworth could have kept her passion in check, it might have been less confrontational."

  "She seems a rather neurotic woman, doesn't she?" Mrs. Dartmoor suggested.

  They walked back and it was refreshing to be out of the house for a while. A heaviness resumed the moment Vivienne walked indoors again—a dark sense of anticipation that something terrible was going to happen. How she wished they could simply leave.

  "I think we will work more to clear the slip tomorrow," John said, as if reading her mind. Leaving was clearly something he wished too.

  They separated to go freshen up in their rooms and then met again in the salon. Sophie, Lewis and Horace were already sitting there. Mr. and Mrs. Bollingworth were not down yet.

  It sent a nervousness through her when someone wasn't in sight now and no one had seen them for a little while. It was as if she was always expecting terrible news to accost them. Brynnell had to be with Archie. He would not be joining them for supper tonight.

  She admired his loyalty to his friend. Hopefully Archie would be well enough soon to not need a chaperone, but she had no idea how long it would take for him to regain his strength. Horace was hesitant to say as he didn't know what poison had been used.

  The mood was subdued when the Bollingworths joined them and they finally went in to dine. Mrs. Bollingworth’s insistence at not eating hadn't lasted in the face of her hunger and she grudgingly ate as much as everyone else.

  It was a terrible thing to question the safety of something so vital. They had no choice but to eat.

  The evening in the salon was just as subdued. No one was particularly enjoying themselves.

  "'Come see my new estate,' Archie had said," Sophie mimicked. "'It will be fun.'"

  "Aren't you having fun?" Lewis asked in faux surprise.

  Sophie ignored him and looked away.

  "I think I will retire," Vivienne said. After the day, she could use some solitude. And she was planning to check on Archie on the way. In her heart, though, she also wanted to see Brynnell.

  But she didn't get a chance to, because she met him in the landing. John must have relieved him of his post.

  "Miss Harcourt," he said with a quick bow. "I trust you are well."

  "Yes. How is Mr. Percival?"

  "He ate some more. Slowly gaining in strength. Your brother is to stay the night with him."

  Vivienne smiled. "Have you eaten?"

  "Yes," he replied.

  They seemed to have run out of conversation. "I should perhaps…"

  "I spoke to Mr. Jenkins," he said, and pulled out a key from his vest pocket. "I think under the circumstances, it is best that there aren't any floating around. He seems to think that he would wake if someone tried to go into his room for his key ring. But if this culprit is knowledgeable enough to poison Archie, then he is probably knowledgeable enough to brew a sleeping draft too."

  "Or she," Vivienne corrected.

  "As you say."

  "I think you should keep this with you," he said and moved closer, holding his hand out with the key. Gently, his fingers closed around hers and she reached for it. His fingers were warm. They stood there in the darkness of the corridor, which was only lit by a candelabra down the hall.

  They shouldn't be meeting like this in dark corridors away from others. It wasn't seemly, but her heart beat so powerfully within her chest at the touch. It was essentially innocent.

  "Please be careful, Miss Harcourt. Do not let anyone into your room."

  "I would not," she said, her throat so dry, she bare
ly got it out.

  An energy flowed between them. He was taller than her, and she felt that keenly now. His eyes were black and shadowed when she looked up at him. His lips were…

  Slowly, he leaned down and she felt her heart painfully cease in her chest.

  The kiss was light, the merest stroke of his lips to her, but the sensation it rendered in her was like a torrent. His breath caressed her skin, and her lips pulsed. It was such a slight kiss—she wanted more.

  His scent was so lovely. Closing her eyes, she let herself be carried away by it, and the ghost of the kiss still on her lips.

  His fingers let go of her and the key, and he cleared his throat as he stepped away. "I'm sorry," he said, withdrawing not just himself, but also in his eyes. "I shouldn't have."

  For a moment, she didn't know how to respond, or even if her voice would be there if she tried. She didn't mind, but she could hardly say so. The truth was that she wanted to go back to that moment, where they had kissed. Did he regret it? Had the kiss not been what he'd hoped for?

  "Be cautious," he said, his hand reaching toward her, but it paused as if he changed his mind, or hadn't been aware of it.

  Awkwardly, she nodded and drew herself away. She walked quickly to her room and shut herself inside. With the key still in her hand, she pressed her fingers to her aching lips. The sensation of the kiss was still there and she wished it would remain forever. Her mind couldn't even contemplate what this meant. Maybe Archie was right and he liked her. The kiss suggested so, but it was too unbelievable.

  A young man had stolen a kiss before, but it had been nothing like this, where she ached for another, remembered its slight touch as if it was burned into her lips. How would she be able to sleep now?

  There would be real trouble if anyone had seen that kiss. Perhaps not Lewis or even Horace, but if Mrs. Bollingworth had seen it, her reputation would be damaged beyond repair. Even if Sophie had seen it—who would likely harm her out of spite if not shock that she would act so inappropriately.

  Chapter 25

  THE NEWS THAT ARCHIE WAS improving lifted everyone's mood. Vivienne's disposition was much improved because there was no evidence she'd been wandering that night. The second key was in John’s possession, and whoever had let her out the previous day had been thwarted from doing it again.