Behold, a Mystery!

by Joan Smith

  I entered and took a discreet look around. If Gregory was there, he was hiding in the clothes-press, and I lacked the gumption to go and look. “Have you seen Gregory, Anita?” I asked.

  “Not since leaving the saloon. What do you want him for?”

  “It is nothing important. I’ll speak to him later. Sorry to disturb you.”

  “My dear, you are welcome at any time. I was just dressing for dinner.” She invited me in, which convinced me she was alone. I was too rushed to accept the offer. I asked Juteclaw to bring a basin of water, a plaster and basilicum powder to the library, and snatched up the wine decanter myself from the saloon.

  When I reached the library, Felix had recovered somewhat. He was sitting upright, still pale, and still frightened. He accepted the wine and drank it down quickly, then he tilted his head back for me to clean his wound. The skin was hardly broken, but it had been a hard blow, and not through a layer of cloth either. The long, narrow purple welt that was rising had a sharp, clear edge, Felix knew who had done it; he must. It looked as if the blow had been administered by a stick of some sort, perhaps a cane or riding crop.

  He did not speak while I tended to his wound. When I had finished, he sat up straight and said, “Jessica, this place is not safe. You should get away from here at once.”

  “It seems it is not safe for you.”

  “It isn’t safe for any of us. He’s insane.”

  I leaped on him. “Who, Felix? Who is insane?"

  “Whoever did this,” he replied evasively, but I was certain he knew. “You see what the villain is about. He means to finish us off, one by one, until there is only himself left to inherit the whole thing—money, Downsview and all.”

  I could no longer hold back the overwhelming question. I grasped his fingers and said, “Was it Gregory, Felix?”

  “No! No, of course not. That is—I told you, I have no idea who it was. I daresay it could have been Greg, but I do not rule out the Farrs by any means. Where is Otto anyway?”

  He quite ignored Horatio. “I don’t know. He was in the saloon with Horatio, but they’re not there now. I expect they are changing for dinner.”

  “Aye, he would be back by now. I don’t want to frighten you, Jessica, but I do not trust Otto above half. Anita thinks he pushed her hand in your direction just before the pistol went off this afternoon. I heard her whisper as much to Greg. Which of us is in desperate need of money, when you come down to it? And Otto has always been unreliable, you know. His past is not spotless by any means. Hettie would certainly have cut him out of her will after that libel suit. She was furious with him. Very convenient that she was killed when she was. It did not do me any good, I can tell you. I don’t doubt she would have given me Otto’s share, or part of it. She was thrilled to death with my pending knighthood.”

  I tried to weigh his words objectively and had to admit there was some truth in them, though sentiment disliked to hear Otto disparaged. As to Anita’s claim that Otto had steered her hand—that must be taken with a grain of salt. "There is no place I can go. I have been thinking about it myself. Anita invited me to Ireland, but—”

  “Good God, you don’t want to get mixed up with that trollop. I have hesitated to speak, but I fear the time has come that I must override my scruples and offer for you myself. I know you don’t love me. I don’t know whether I love you or not. Certainly I like you as well as any lady I have met. I daresay we could hobble along as happily as most. If you would agree to marry me, I could take you away from here. To London, or wherever you like.”

  "That is very kind of you, Felix. I appreciate your offer, and I know it is sincere, but really I could not contemplate marrying for such a reason.”

  “Then get away from here at least. Go tonight, while everyone is asleep. I’ll help you.”

  I felt the desperation in his words and knew he was not telling me everything he knew. “What is it, Felix? What are you not telling me?”

  “I don’t know,” he said wanly. “It is just a feeling I have. A feeling of doom. This is no brutum fulmen. You are in danger. I know it. Go to an hotel in the countryside. I shall let you know when it is safe to come back.”

  I listened but remained unswayed, because I sensed that Felix was in a state bordering on hysteria. “Where were you this afternoon, Felix? Otto did not see you when he was in the park.”

  “I was in the park. I found Duke—dead. I was burying him.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I didn’t want you to know, Jess. It was horrible. He had been—his throat was cut. He had managed to crawl to the orchard to die.” He looked nauseous at the memory.

  “That is odd. There was no blood at the hollies, where Mrs. Manner was killed.”

  “Then whoever did it lured Duke to the orchard. Yes, I daresay he was killed there. There was a pool of blood.” I shook away the image his words conjured up. “I buried him in the orchard, under the third tree in the third row, and covered the grave with leaves and branches. It is almost beyond belief that anyone could be so barbaric to a helpless dog. He could have just poisoned him. It was not necessary to butcher the poor animal.”

  I poured Felix another glass of wine and had one myself, for the image of Duke in a pool of blood kept recurring. Felix’s story accounted for Otto’s not seeing him. The orchard is not visible from the park. He pressed me a little more to either marry him or at least go and hide in a country inn. In the end I said I would think about it, because it seemed so important to him.

  I felt I knew at last who was responsible for the murders. Felix was protecting Gregory, not through any sense of family loyalty, but from sheer terror. He had seen what Gregory had done to a helpless dog. Felix was equally helpless. I doubt he had ever held a pistol in his life, or anything more dangerous than a pen.

  Before I left, Felix begged me to say his bruise was a result of accidentally walking into a door. I acquiesced to calm him, but I did not feel bound by it. The Farrs should be warned.

  I went into the hallway to go upstairs to change for dinner. Gregory came out of the saloon and said, “I have just been trying to stir the fire into a blaze. I believe the flue needs cleaning. Anita said you were looking for me, Jess? I was in the wine cellar with Juteclaw, selecting some wines for dinner. What was it you wanted to see me about?”

  He had changed into evening clothes. He seemed completely relaxed, his cheeks ruddy from working by the grate. He could not have got back from the park and changed so quickly. And he would have fashioned an excuse that could not be so easily contradicted if he were not telling the truth.

  “Oh, Felix found Duke, and buried him in the park.”

  “Did he, by God? Foolish thing to do, burying him, but that is Felix all over. I expect Culpepper will want to have a look at him for clues.”

  He didn’t even bother asking what had happened to Duke. I felt he already knew. I ran upstairs to change for dinner. Again suspicions whirled in my head. There is a door in the cellar leading outdoors. Greg could have slipped out of the cellar unseen and attacked Felix to frighten him into silence. He might have gone to the cellar for that very reason, already prepared for his job. If he had worn a greatcoat and changed his slippers for boots, his clothing would not be soiled. Those rosy cheeks might be due to cold, not the heat from the grate.

  At the end of the hall, Otto was just coming up the servants’ stairs from the kitchen. The family seldom used those stairs, and I was surprised to see him. Traces of mud were on his top-boots, and his clothing was splattered with mud, as if he had been out in the park. What else could account for his condition?

  I felt the colour drain from my face. “What’s the matter?” he demanded at once. “You look as if you’d seen a ghost. Where is Felix?”

  It surprised me that he was foolish enough to mention Felix’s name. Why should he be interested in Felix all of a sudden, unless ...

  “I have no idea,” I said. “Where have you been?”

  He studied me a moment, f
rowning, before he answered. “Out sparring with Gentleman Jackson. His racket was bothering Cook. She asked me to quieten him down. I spoke to him quite civilly, but the dog is a cur. You are right. I’ll sell him back to Weldon, or pay him to take the beast away, if necessary. Otherwise he’ll have to be put down, and I dislike to do that to a dumb animal.”

  “I shouldn’t think talking to a dog would make such a mess of your clothing.”

  “He’s a savage brute. I had no idea how strong he was. His first lunge sent me sprawling on my back. I’d best go and change for dinner.”

  “Yes, I was just about to do the same.”

  We parted, Otto going to the west wing, myself to the east. Before I had gone two yards, I broke into a run. I could not wait to get to my room and lock the door behind me. Otto! Otto had attacked poor Felix, and put such a fright into him that he was afraid to open his mouth. What reason could he possibly have for doing such a thing, except a fear that Felix knew something dangerous? Had Felix seen him going after Mrs. Manner in the park? Why had he kept it to himself for so long?

  Perhaps Felix had not been sure. Otto must have let some chance remark fall that gave Felix a clue. I felt desolate, not only that a man could be capable of such treachery, but that the man was Otto. For a decade I had secretly loved him. I had lived for twelve months at a stretch on his few crumbs of compliments, that meant no more to him than a pat on a dog’s head.

  He had made a point of professing his love for dogs, to suggest he had not harmed Duke. I would ask Cook if she had complained to Otto about Jackson’s howling. I had not heard it. Tending to Jackson could be a mere excuse to get out of the house without giving rise to questions. And of course it made a fine excuse for his disarray.

  Or it could have been Gregory, as I first thought. Or even Horatio—I had no idea where he had spent that important quarter of an hour.

  It could not have been a planned attack, because when Felix left the saloon early at tea-time, he had said he was going to the library. If only he had stayed there! The attack made unpleasantly clear that we who were innocent must be on guard every minute.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was surprised to see another black gown, an evening gown, hanging in my room when I went to change for dinner. Mrs. Maherne had said something about sending me a gown she had been fashioning for a customer who had since become enceinte, and could no longer fit into it. I had not replied to her note, but obviously she had sent the gown along for my approval.

  A new evening gown was usually a great event in my life, occurring once annually, like spring. This silk gown of unrelieved black was fashionably designed with black bugle beads its only ornament, but it brought no pleasure. It was cut low at the bodice. It looked like a headless woman, hanging there so stiffly. But I had urgent need of such a gown, and would keep it if it fit properly.

  Of course I did not have a dresser. As the mistress of Downsview I might appoint one of the servants to this task now if I wished. I rang for Mary, not because I really wanted her help, but because I was nervous alone. I also wanted to ask some questions without alerting the household to what I was up to.

  I knew by the maid’s spontaneous “Cooo!” when I spoke to her that she was surprised and happy to be the chosen one. “But miss, to have to be wearing black in front of all the gentlemen! What a pity it is, though the gown is handsome in its own way,” she said, examining it. “There was talk below about whether you’d want a personal servant, like,” she said, lifting the gown down. “ ‘Not she!’ says Cook, but I thought to myself, why not? She’s queen o’ the castle now. I’d do it if it was me.”

  She assisted me into the black gown, which fit as if it had been fashioned for me, and looked well. It clung tightly to my waist and flared flirtatiously below, if a black skirt can be said to flirt. While she worked at the buttons, I said, “How is everything in the kitchen, Mary?”

  “As good as can be expected,” she said dolefully.

  “That dog Mr. Farr brought did not cause too much bother, I hope?”

  “Lord, it’s worse than a banshee for wailing, and us a house of death. You could hear it howling three fields away.”

  “You should have told Mr. Farr the dog was bothering you.”

  “Cook did! That is to say she told Juteclaw, and he dropped Mr. Farr the hint. ‘Twas comical to watch Mr. Farr dealing with the brute. Cook gave him a bone as big as the jawbone of an ass to feed the brute. The hound leaped on poor Mr. Farr and tried to wrestle the meat out of his hand. Mr. Farr went sprawling in the mud. Lord, it was better than a raree-show.”

  I duly noted this confirmation of Otto’s story, while checking it for snakes and ladders. “Mr. Farr came rushing right back into the house, I fancy?”

  “Devil a bit of it! He got hold of the rope around the brute’s neck and headed for the stable, planning to take the dog back to Weldon, but he was back inside of a quarter of an hour. The hound was such a handful he couldn’t manage both him and his mount, so he just tied Jackson up in the stable, and says he’ll make Weldon come and fetch him. Mr. Farr is the third gent Weldon’s sold that brute to, knowing full well he’d be back. We could of told Mr. Farr if he’d asked. Nobody can handle Gentleman Jackson except Mr. Weldon.”

  A quarter of an hour was long enough to attack Felix, especially as Otto had been at the stable, with access to a mount. Aunt Hettie kept a gentle bay mare for general use. I rode it at times, and occasionally a footman was allowed to get astride in an emergency. Otto might have taken the bay mare. That bruise above Felix’s eye looked very much like a mark from a riding crop. And if Otto wanted to proceed at a faster pace than a trot, he would need to use a crop.

  There was one other statement to question, and I said, “Mr. Chapman found the wine he wanted, did he, Mary? He mentioned he was in the cellar.”

  “Found it and took a dozen bottles to his room!” she said angrily. “He bribed Juteclaw with a bottle of the good Madeira to get the keys out of him. Juteclaw developed a little weakness that way, you know, miss, when the gout got hold of him last fall. Cook says the gout’s gone, but he’s stuck with the cure. Mind you, Juteclaw never helps hisself to the good wine. He only nips Cook’s cooking sherry.

  “Mr. Gregory was in the cellar for the better part of half an hour, nosing about, and when he come up he had six bottles in either hand. Lord, he was dust from head to toe from mucking about them dusty old racks. He went up to dress for dinner, and took the bottles with him without so much as a by your leave.”

  Then I was still in doubt. Gregory might have been rooting about the wine cellar, or he might have been out attacking Felix. To account for everyone, I said, “Was Mr. Horatio Farr also in the wine cellar?” I knew he was not, but wanted to learn if he had been seen by the servants during that important interval.

  “No, miss. He is a gentleman. He was in the armaments-room, playing with the war toys. I happen to know, for he caught Juteclaw with the Madeira, and asked for a bottle to be sent to the armaments-room.”

  But he was not in the armaments-room when I went to the library. The door had been open, and the room empty.

  Mary proved adept at arranging my coiffure. She lifted my hair high on my head and secured it with pins. Between the coiffure and the new gown, the lady gazing back at me from my mirror looked like an elegant stranger—a stranger with a haunted look in her eyes.

  “What do you say to a touch of rouge?” Mary suggested daringly.

  “I don’t have any, Mary. My aunt did not approve of it.”

  “Mrs. Manner used it. She’d not begrudge it to you, miss.”

  It was eerie—I did not want the rouge of a dead lady on my cheeks. I looked at “my” ring. That was different. I had never taken it from my finger since the moment I put it on. It was a constant reminder of my old friend.

  “I think not.”

  “I’ll pinch your cheeks before you go down. It works well, but it don’t last. Still, it’s first impressions that count.”

&nbs
p; “I am ready to go downstairs now.”

  Mary gave my cheeks a pinch. “You look fine as a star, miss,” she assured me. “It’s none of my affair, but have you decided which of the gents you favor?”

  “Perhaps none of them.”

  “Pshaw! We all know which one we want as master of Downsview!” I looked a question at her, already knowing the answer. “Mr. Otto, miss. I’m sure I don’t know how any lady could resist him. What a laugh we had when Jackson sent him sprawling, and he merry as a grig. That’s a good sign in a man, that he ain’t too toplofty to enjoy a laugh at hisself.”

  “Yes, he is always good-natured,” I agreed, and escaped.

  No doubt it is a sad reflection on my character, but I was concerned for the impression I would make in my new gown when I entered the saloon. My first thought was that I was entering an empty room. Only one lamp was lit, and there was no one around the grate, where we usually huddled in that draughty chamber. I glanced around, and saw, in the far corner, Anita and a gentleman. The corner was dim, but I could see she had one arm around his neck, and one hand cupped under his chin. Their foreheads were nearly touching. The black of his sleeve stood out in stark relief against the light violet of her gown. She is snuggling with Gregory, I thought with annoyance. They might at least choose a private place for it

  “Don’t let me disturb you,” I said satirically.

  They had already leaped apart. Anita stood up and began patting her hair and skirt into place. When the gentleman rose, I recognized Otto, and could hardly believe my eyes. He walked forward, into the light, and stared at me as if he would like to run me through with cold steel. A frown pinched his brow, and drew lines from his nose to his mouth.