He paused at his door. 'I am looking forward to tomorrow. What are the two women like, think you: the lady and the daughter.'
I sighed. I was tired and he was being obtuse. 'Not two women, Holmes. One is a child.'
'Of course. To a physician she is a child. I forget.'
Swithins Hall presented a fine Georgian front that gleamed faintly pink in the morning light. The grounds were well maintained, conifers and hardwoods artfully dispersed on either side of the drive. No man in his senses would abandon this property voluntarily, an opinion confirmed upon our entrance. There were portraits by Reynolds in the hall, while furniture and opulent Eastern carpets spoke of good taste and the means to indulge it.
We were shown into a comfortable drawing room and a moment later the lady of the house entered. Helen Aubrey was neither beautiful nor imposing but we were seeing her at a disadvantage: meeting two strangers whom she knew were conversant with an embarrassing family secret. But although under great strain she bore herself with dignity. She was dressed in grey, her thick chestnut hair coiled about her small head and secured with tortoiseshell combs. She had a stubborn chin and a full and generous mouth. She smiled seldom but when she did, her face lit up—as when her daughter entered and came forward to be introduced.
Minnie was exquisite, with long blonde hair, clear blue eyes and a complexion like rose petals, heightened by a warm blush when she curtseyed to the visitors. I tore my eyes away from that damask skin to find myself observed with interest by Holmes. Meanwhile Daw was in a quandary, unable to broach the purpose of our visit in the presence of the child.
'How are your charges, Minnie?' he asked brightly. 'Minnie has quite a menagerie in the great barn,' he announced, his eyes pleading with us to solve this problem.
Mrs Aubrey knew what was required. 'You may go to the barn for a quarter of an hour,1 she told Minnie. 'Your fur coat and hood, dear, and your warmest muffler—' She hesitated. 'Take Salkeld.'
'Salkeld?' The child looked astonished.
Mrs Aubrey said firmly, 'They tell me there is a tramp in the woods. I do not want you to go outside the house alone.' When she had gone her mother turned back to us. 'Events have made me nervous,' she confessed. 'We don't know who may be about the place.'
'A natural reaction,' Holmes said. 'And now perhaps we may have a few words before we visit your cabin. Tell me, madam, do you want your husband found?'
She started and her eyes widened. 'But that is why you are here! Not want hm found?*
Daw was dumbstruck. Holmes was in no way abashed. 'There is the possibility that he has disappeared of his own volition. Threatened, perhaps?'
She collected herself and considered this. 'You mean, he has enemies?'
'If he has left of his own free will, would you wish him found?'
Her face set as if she were resigning herself to a further invasion of her privacy. 'It would depend on the circumstances,' she said bravely. 'I would most definitely want him located. If he were with a... friend, I would wish to be told. But,' she added quickly, 'I would not want him to know that he was discovered.'
'You know where he is, madam.'
'Mr Holmes, sir!' Daw was outraged. 'If the lady knew, you would not be here!'
'Quite. I apologise.' This time he did look chastened. 'My thoughts had taken a different tack.' His tone changed. 'Perhaps I may view your husband's rooms, madam. Meanwhile, with your permission, Dr Watson shall talk to the servants.'
'I will see to it,' she said evenly.
When she left the room Holmes drew me aside and whispered that I should speak to Minnie. By good fortune I avoided Mrs Aubrey and, following directions from a maid, I emerged from the rear of the house to cross a courtyard to the great barn. I found Minnie on the upper floor, swathed in sealskins and crooning to a large white rabbit in her arms.
'What have you done with Salkeld?' I asked, scratching the animal's skull.
I sent him to the tack-room,' she said calmly. 'There is no tramp, you know. My mama is frightened of shadows. No one can harm me on our own property.'
'Why is she frightened?' I pretended to study the rabbit with a clinical eye. 'I think this animal is a trifle overweight.'
'She is with child.'
My jaw dropped. 'The rabbit,' Minnie said impatiently. She placed it in its hutch and we moved to the next, where now a black rabbit hopped to the wire and begged for food. She opened the door and gave it some dandelion leaves.
'You were about to say who had frightened your mama,' I prompted. When this produced no response I went on, 'No doubt she is afraid that the person who attacked—' I stopped, appalled; I had been about to imply that her step-father had been murdered.
She said gravely, 'I understand Mama because of my animals. There is my cat, Tabitha, and he gave orders for traps to be set in the woods because martens take the pheasant poults, but Tabitha hunts in the woods, and I told him he was not to set traps. Mama feels about me as I do about Tabitha.'
I let her prattle on. Aubrey would not let her ride out with a groom, only with himself, whereas Mama insisted a groom accompany them because she said Aubrey was a reckless rider. He set traps, Mama ordered them to be taken up (Mama thought pine martens were beautiful and pheasants were silly, noisy birds). Mama liked eagles and falcons. He said they were vermin. He said Mama lived in fairyland and ...
There was a step on the wooden stair. A young fellow appeared. 'Who art tha?' he shouted, glaring at me and approaching with menace.
'Now, Salkeld,' chided my young companion. 'This is Dr Watson. He is a visitor.'
The fellow apologised in his uncouth dialect and turned to his charge. 'Quarter of an hour, they telled. Ah, miss. Us maun go back. It's verra cold, tha knows.'
'One moment, Salkeld.' She moved along the bank of hutches, passing in leaves as I opened doors. 'Mama is not ill,' she persisted, as if arguing with me. "She is sad because my papa died, and she is concerned about'—she glanced at the footman who turned his back in confusion—'about the estate,' she whispered. 'It is a heavy responsibility.' She regarded me solemnly with those cornflower eyes.
'Your mama looks remarkably well,' I said. 'And I should know.'
'I had forgotten you were a physician. Mama is quite well? She will not have to go away? Truly?'
With sudden horror I was aware that her mother might be suffering from some major disorder and here was I blithely assuring the child to the contrary. Her face fell as her eyes searched mine. 'You're not sure,' she said dolefully, and turned away. 'He said you couldn't tell because it was inside her head.' She stamped her foot. 'I hate him! And he hates her. There!'
The footman was terrified and, scarcely aware of the action, he gripped her wrist. 'Away now, Miss Minnie, or us'll be in a fine mess.' He threw me a frantic look and almost pulled her down the stairs. I could hear her protesting staunchly: 'I do hate him because he says—' The rest was lost in the clatter of their boots.
I was unable to acquaint Holmes with the gist of this exchange, for no sooner did I emerge from the barn but I was caught up by the party setting off for the cabin. We were escorted by the coachman and two grooms. Daw having elected to remain with Mrs Aubrey.
Speech was impossible, first due to the angle of the path that climbed through the hanging woods behind the house, then by virtue of the hazards it presented as it traversed above sheer cliffs. We were equipped with alpenstocks, but even with their aid we were forced to watch our footing where streams had overflowed the path and frozen. Gullies between the crags were plugged by massive ice falls, green and bubbly, and treacherous as glass. In such places the local men chose a route some distance back from the edge, chipping footholds across the ice by means of their iron-shod staffs.
The cabin was a simple stone structure with a slate roof, the sparse dusting of snow about it trampled by hobnailed boots.
While the men waited outside, we entered and looked about us. After a moment Holmes said, 'Nothing can be as it was found; the champagne bottles have b
een removed, and the remains of the pie; even the bed has been tidied.'
On a bedstead, blankets had been neatly stacked to reveal a mattress from which the odd straw protruded. Holmes grimaced. 'A strange love nest for the master of Swithins Hall—but then, to a man driven by lust, the furnishings would be of little moment.' He went to the door and summoned the coachman: a responsible, middle-aged fellow. 'Is there a path to the village from here?' he asked.
'Yes, sir: two. A footpath less than two miles long, and an easier track for the ponies. That be rather longer. Both have been searched.'
'I have little doubt that the identity of the person who met your master here is common knowledge.'
'It wasna her!' The man blinked at the tidy bed. 'We asked her: first person us went to!'
'Her name?'
'Why, 'tis Rosie Yewdale. She lives below there, at Cunning Garth. But 'twasn't her this time, sir. And place were never left in such a state before'—he gestured at the cleared table—'keepers woulda let on. Master didna seem to care who saw—why, the lady coulda been with us!'
'Hardly.' Holmes's tone was dry. 'So if not Rosie Yewdale, who was here with your master?'
'I wouldna know that, sir.' He paused deliberately. 'I serve the mistress,' he said, meeting Holmes's eye with a hint of defiance. 'And now, by your leave, gentlemen, I must be getting back. The lady needs the men for to bring in the holly and such.'
'You propose to keep Christmas?' I cried. 'With your master missing?'
'He could be with a friend, Doctor. And the children must have their party. Mistress said as how the festivities was to go on as usual for the littluns' sakes.'
Holmes shook himself like a man emerging from a reverie and clapped his mittened hands together. 'We are keeping you from your duties, but before you go, show us the path to the village.'
We were directed to the start of a trampled track that descended easily, graded for horses. Here we could walk side by side, and I acquainted Holmes with the result of my talk with Minnie. He was less interested in her feeling for her step-father than her concern for her mother's health. 'Jealousy of a step-parent is not uncommon,' he murmured, 'but the suggestion that her mother is unbalanced is curious; the woman gave no indication of madness. And the girl had this from Aubrey? Dark waters, Watson.'
'Did the lady say more after I left?'
'She did not return after sending the butler to me—and he was as informative as the Sphinx. Nor did I learn anything from Aubrey's rooms except confirmation that he took nothing with him other than his normal outdoor clothing. No luggage, no toiletries, and we know he did not take a horse.' He stopped walking. 'What are those birds?' Two large black shapes beat by with heavy wings.
'Ravens,' I said. 'No doubt they have scented a sheep that has tumbled over the crags.' The birds were coming in to the crags beyond the cabin. 'They searched all along the foot of those rocks,' I reminded him.
He started walking again. 'First things first. I smell wood-smoke. Why did the fellow prefer to meet his paramour in that bleak hovel rather than in a warm house?'
At first sight the cottage had little to distinguish it from the cabin but the woman who answered our knock, bare-armed and glowing, exuded a vitality that was quite startling. I recognised her immediately: the dark curls, the lustrous eyes. It was the woman in the red cloak whom we'd passed in the village last night. She bobbed a curtsey in which there was nothing of subservience. In different circumstances I might have found her striking in her coarse country fashion but I had been seduced by the shy blonde beauty of little Minnie. In contrast I found Rosie's bold gypsy colouring alarming.
The house was filled with the delicious smell of herbs and roasting meat, and Holmes hung back from the cheerless parlour, suggesting we talk in the kitchen. She showed no surprise, had shown none at our arrival on her doorstep; one might almost have thought that she expected us.
We were seated at a scrubbed table where the meat sizzled in the oven and the fire-box produced a welcome heat. Without fuss she set about the making of a pan of mulled ale and to my astonishment asked whether we would prefer it flavoured with brandy or rum! Holmes glanced at me. It was a signal.
'You treat us like honoured guests, my dear,' I said in my avuncular fashion. 'A joint in the oven, brandy in the ale.'
She gave me a radiant smile. 'The mutton will not be roasted for an hour, sir, but if you will stay so long?'
'Thank you, Rosie, but I was admiring your style, not pleading for an invitation to dinner.' I pride myself on my rapport with women of the lowest rank. 'You keep sheep then?' I glanced meaningly at the oven.
'Oh, no, sir. The mutton is a present. As is the brandy. Folk are generous hereabouts.'
'They appreciate your value,' I said gallantly. 'You live alone?'
'Mostly, sir. I have no time for men about my feet.' She chuckled and her eyes danced.
Holmes said sternly, 'You do not seem greatly concerned at Mr Aubrey's disappearance.'
'Why should I be?' She was amazed. 'It is no business of mine.'
'You are his friend.'
'I would not be so presumptuous.'
He held her eye. 'Where is he, girl?'
'Why, with someone of his acquaintance?' She paused, seeming to gauge our reaction. 'He has gone away to escape the children at Christmas,' she suggested—and that did not ring true either.
'When did you see him last?' Holmes asked.
She looked at the brandy bottle, smiled slyly and said nothing. 'He gave you the brandy,' Holmes stated. 'And the mutton. Christmas presents?'
'He is very good to me,' she murmured.
'Tuesday night a week since?'
She shrugged and wouldn't answer, trying to assume the pose of the stolid peasant.
'Why did you go up there to him,' Holmes pressed, 'rather than he come here? This place is warm and cosy.'
' 'Tis Christmas and I have more callers than is customary, and unannounced. He wouldna want to meet one of his own servants here.'
Holmes tried another tack. 'How was he when he left you?'
'He was tired, and he had drunk a good deal of wine.'
'Was it your custom to leave the cabin in such a state: bottles, glasses, the remains of supper?'
She looked shifty, I woulda gone up on the morrow but I slept in an' then I left it 'til next day, and then the searchers was here asking had I seen him and o' course I said I hadna. They had to report back to Mrs Aubrey, so I said what they'd expect me to say.'
'If there has been foul play, who would you think responsible?'
She shook her head. 'I don't understand you.'
'How many men bring you meat and bottles of French brandy? There must be resentment of one who is so lavish.'
She threw back her head and pealed with laughter, firelight caressing the strong white throat. 'Bless you, sir! There are no such feelings in this house. I favour no one.' Of course not; others would bring her venison and pheasants—poachers all. 'There are the women,' she added, more soberly: 'mothers, sweethearts, wives.'
'Mrs Aubrey.'
She spread her hands in a gesture of helplessness and gave us a demure smile. 'What would you have a girl do? He is my landlord.'
'He is not her landlord,' Holmes said as we walked away, directing our steps towards the lakeside road. 'Mrs Aubrey owns the estate.'
'What's hers is her husband's,' I pointed out. But she would surely insist on the eviction of such a woman. It is not only her husband who is involved; think of the village youths, the disruption among families.'
'Aubrey would not allow her to be evicted. Not while she pleases him.'
I regarded the lake, the plum-coloured clouds lowered on ashen mountains. Flakes of snow floated gently to settle on the frozen mud of the road. 'We must be approaching them,' came Holmes's voice, bewildering me. 'The birds,' he explained. 'The ravens.'
'We are in for a blizzard. We must make haste for shelter.'
'Nonsense. We are on the road, not the high moors. C
ome, make a noise; if they are about we shall startle them. Mark where we put them up.' He strode forward, uttering shrill cries.
The ravens rose from the cliff with loud croaks, and they were joined by buzzards that soared above our heads, mewing like cats. Doves clattered through bare branches, a blackbird scolded—and Holmes was scrambling up the screes like a man demented. I sighed and followed. Normally I have no trouble with the old wound, but this ground was rougher even than Dartmoor. Beside Holmes I was an old crock. When I reached the foot of the crag he was nowhere to be seen.
The snow was now falling quite heavily. 'Holmes!' I shouted— and jumped as the response came from close above.
'Here, Watson.'
His head seemed to protrude from the rock some five yards above ground level. 'I have found Aubrey,' he said. 'Or rather, the ravens have.' I gaped at him, speechless. 'Stay there while I complete my examination,' he went on. 'Do not attempt to scale the face with your leg.'
He disappeared. I realised he must be on an inward-sloping ledge where the body had lodged. A few feet to the side was the base of one of those frozen waterfalls that festooned the gullies. Evidently Aubrey, his judgement clouded by his exertions and champagne, had attempted to follow the path instead of crossing the icy streams a discreet distance from the edge. One slip above those glassy cascades and nothing could stop his plunge into the abyss. I started to hunt through the withered undergrowth and after a few moments I gave a cry of triumph. There it was, most of it hidden by brambles but obvious when you knew it should be in the vicinity.
Holmes reappeared and, turning his back to the drop, he descended with agility, his eyes lighting up when he saw that I held two alpenstocks. 'Of course,' he breathed, 'it fell with him. He died immediately, by the by; the skull is shattered like an eggshell and all the limbs are fractured. There would be gross internal bleeding.'
He fastened his muffler to a tree to mark the spot and we slithered down the screes through snow which was now ominous in its intensity. 'So our task is completed,' I announced when we reached level ground. There was no response. 'There was nothing untoward about the body?' I persisted.
Holmes for the Holidays Page 10
