The Poisoned House

by Michael Ford

  I stopped what I was doing and went to open the door, just as Mr Lock came up the stairs and Samuel struggled on his crutch from the sitting room.

  ‘You didn’t have to come in person,’ said Samuel, gesturing to the cards.

  ‘I’m afraid I did,’ said Mr Carter. ‘This is my colleague Mr Lassiter. Do you have somewhere we can speak in private?’

  A look of confusion passed over Samuel’s face, but he smothered it with a smile. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Come to the library. Abi, take the gentlemen’s coats, will you?’

  As I did so, Mr Carter turned to me. ‘Are you Miss Abigail Tamper?’ he said.

  I wasn’t used to being addressed by my name by strangers. ‘Yes, sir,’ I replied.

  ‘Well, you should join us,’ he said. ‘Mr Lock too, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I thought you said it was a private meeting,’ said Samuel curtly.

  Mr Carter looked at Samuel with tired eyes. ‘They need to be there,’ he said simply.

  Samuel’s face tightened and flushed, but I was worried too. What possible use could I be to these gentlemen?

  ‘Very well,’ he said.

  I stayed at the back of the group while we trooped into the library, then closed the door. Mr Carter sat down on the little settee and opened his satchel. He laid out a sheaf of papers on a low table in front of him and placed two envelopes beside it.

  ‘Listen, what’s this all about?’ snapped Samuel.

  Mr Carter didn’t react to his rudeness. ‘As you know,’ he said calmly, ‘Carter & Carter is responsible for executing your late father’s estate –’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ interrupted Samuel. ‘I have a copy of the will here somewhere.’ He gestured towards the desk. ‘My friend Alex has had a good look over it for me, and there’s nothing –’

  ‘If you’d let me finish,’ said Mr Carter, holding up his hand. ‘Just over a year ago, His Lordship came to our offices and asked to make several . . . amendments to his Last Will and Testament.’

  ‘Amendments?’ said Samuel.

  ‘In effect,’ put in Mr Lassiter, ‘he made a single substantial change.’

  Samuel raised his fist to his mouth as if to stop himself from speaking. His face had gone from red to bloodless white, and his one good leg was shaking.

  ‘Master Greave, your father has left his entire estate –’ here Mr Carter paused and looked at me – ‘to Miss Tamper.’

  .

  Chapter 40

  I stood back against the wall, for fear I would otherwise collapse on to the carpet. I wasn’t sure if I’d heard correctly. ‘Did you say, to me?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s right, miss,’ said Mr Lassiter, bobbing his head.

  Samuel didn’t speak for what seemed like minutes, but it could only have been a few seconds. He stared at me as if seeing me for the first time. Then his gaze travelled to Mr Carter and his colleague. Mr Lock, I noticed, hadn’t batted an eyelid.

  ‘The will must be wrong,’ said Samuel.

  ‘I assure you,’ said Mr Carter, ‘Lord Greave was quite specific.’

  Samuel waved a hand dismissively. ‘He wasn’t in a fit state to be specific, gentlemen. His mind was not functioning properly. Surely that invalidates the will?’

  ‘Sir, you yourself said not two days ago that his mental infirmity was only a recent development. You’ll see from the date on the will that this was signed on the fourth of January last year.’

  Three days after my mother died.

  He’d left everything to me. To his daughter.

  Samuel snorted.

  ‘Master Greave,’ said Mr Carter patiently, ‘your father’s wishes are clear, and they are countersigned by two witnesses.’

  ‘What witnesses?’ said Samuel.

  ‘Mr Lassiter here,’ said Mr Carter, ‘and Trevor Lock.’

  Samuel turned to stare at Mr Lock, his eyebrows lifted in incredulity.

  Mr Lock straightened his back. ‘I obeyed His Lordship, sir.’

  ‘But she’s just a scullery maid,’ said Samuel, gesturing to me. I fancy only I caught the curl of his lip which accompanied the words.

  ‘I expect she will find her own scullery maid now,’ said Mr Lassiter.

  ‘We’ll see about that!’ said Samuel, shaking his head. ‘It’s most irregular. I shall have to –’

  ‘Sir,’ interrupted Mr Carter. He picked up one of the envelopes and offered it to Samuel. ‘His Lordship wrote this letter to be given to you upon his death.’

  Samuel snatched at the envelope, and tore it open. His eyes scanned the lines quickly. Whatever it said, his face betrayed no emotion other than a slight twitching at the corner of his lips.

  ‘Did any of you read it?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course not, sir,’ said Mr Carter. ‘We value our clients’ privacy above all else.’

  ‘And you?’ Samuel questioned Mr Lock.

  The butler shook his head.

  ‘Very good,’ he said. He tucked the letter into his pocket and, twisting his body awkwardly, strutted out of the room on his crutch.

  Together we listened to him climb the stairs. When his door closed, I saw the attention of the three men was upon me.

  ‘And this is for you,’ said Mr Carter, holding out the second envelope. ‘Mr Lock, I think that concludes our business here.’

  The butler nodded and went to fetch the coats. Mr Carter turned to me and smiled.

  ‘Well, my dear, I will not presume to understand the whims of my clients, but I will always respect them. This place is yours now, and no doubt you will need guidance in understanding and governing. We at Carter & Carter are here to help. Mr Lassiter will visit again tomorrow, if that suits you.’

  Suits me? ‘No one’s ever asked that before!’ I said.

  Both lawyers smiled. ‘Well, you must get used to it, Miss Tamper.’

  Then he shook my hand! A gentleman! I was so gobsmacked I dropped into a curtsy and they laughed.

  Mr Lock showed them to the door, and I sat down at the desk – my desk! – to read the letter. I hadn’t even thought what I would do next, but I knew that the minutes, hours and days to come would throw everything into chaos. I simply couldn’t fathom what had happened.

  I opened the envelope slowly with the letter knife. I pulled out the single sheet of paper as Mrs Cotton’s quick footsteps arrived at the library door.

  ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing sitting there, Miss Tamper? Get up at once!’

  I stood up. Old habits are hard to shake. I wanted to shout at her that I’d had enough, that she couldn’t hurt me any more, but I couldn’t. It was too unreal.

  ‘I –’

  Mr Lock appeared at her elbow. ‘Mrs Cotton, if I could have a word.’

  ‘Can’t it wait?’

  ‘No, ma’am, it cannot,’ he said.

  There was a steel in his voice that I think neither of us had heard before. The housekeeper followed him out towards the hall. I stood just out of sight, listening, clutching the door frame.

  I couldn’t hear what the butler said, so hushed were his tones, but Mrs Cotton spoke very clearly. ‘Is this some sort of joke?’

  ‘No, Lillian, it isn’t. We answer to Miss Tamper now.’

  I stepped out into the hall myself, and Mrs Cotton gave me a look of pure terror, as if my very presence could hurt her. She backed away towards the stairs, flailing with her hand for the banister. ‘Where’s Samuel?’ she said.

  ‘I believe he went upstairs,’ said Mr Lock.

  Her foot found the stairs, and she hurried up, shouting, ‘Samuel? Samuel!’ like a drowning woman crying for rescue.

  .

  Chapter 41

  Mr Lock offered to tell Rob and Cook, and I told him I would much appreciate that. I didn’t know if I had the strength to do it myself. Instead, I sat down again at the desk and read the letter from Lord Greave. It was only half a page.

  .

  Dearest Abigail,

  I thought I understood what cour
age was. I thought I had seen it on the decks of the ships at Navarino, when men met their deaths with shouts of defiance. I fancied myself courageous to stand alongside them and call on death too. If you are reading this letter, then death has heard my call.

  But courage is being able to speak the truth, no matter what the censure or what the sacrifice. I am a coward. I knew a terrible truth, but I said nothing. I hope you can forgive me.

  Your loving father,

  Nathaniel Greave

  * * *

  At first, I felt only anger. Anger that he had never acknowledged me as his daughter or my mother as his love. Anger that he had never faced Samuel for what he had done. For what else could the ‘terrible truth’ be? My father had carried with him a burden that had driven him to madness – the knowledge of his son’s inhuman deed. What a price to pay for his cowardice!

  And now, I realised, that truth would remain hidden forever. This house might be mine, but what did that mean if he got away with his awful crimes? I’d have given it all back on the spot if it could change anything.

  Samuel would have to leave, of course. I couldn’t imagine him wanting to stay, not after all that had happened. Perhaps the War Office would find him a job. Perhaps Alexander would take pity on his friend. In that moment, he could have starved on the streets for all I cared. Even to look at him again would have made my skin crawl.

  Shortly after, I folded up the letter and put it into the desk drawer. Then I went downstairs. Cook and Rob were deep in conversation at the table, and both stood up when I came in.

  ‘You don’t have to do that!’ I said.

  ‘I suppose I can call you m’lady for real now, then?’ said Rob.

  ‘That you can, Mr Willmett,’ I replied.

  His face broke into a gap-toothed smile, and I laughed too.

  ‘Well, what now, miss?’ said Cook. ‘Would you like me to get you some dinner?’

  ‘I’d like you to take the rest of the day off,’ I said. I needed to straighten out my thoughts, and I could fend for myself.

  ‘Well, thank you, miss,’ said Cook.

  ‘You too,’ I said to Rob. ‘Do you know where Mr Lock is?’ I added.

  Rob said he’d gone back to his room, so I bade them goodbye and left. On my way out, Rowena brushed against my leg. She was the only one not upset by all this.

  I knocked on Mr Lock’s door.

  ‘Come in,’ said a weak voice.

  I pushed open the door and saw him sitting in his chair. I’d never been in this room before – an hour before, it would have been unthinkable – and it was smaller than I’d expected. There was a bed, a wardrobe and a table with a single chair. No window. The floor was stone, and covered with two threadbare rugs. The fire, I was surprised to see, was unlit.

  ‘What can I do for you, Miss Tamper?’ he said. He looked anxious, scared even.

  I took a seat. ‘You can tell me the truth,’ I said.

  The wrinkles around his eyes lifted a little. ‘The truth?’

  I nodded. ‘Did you always know about my mother and His Lordship?’

  ‘It is not my place to speculate,’ he said quickly.

  I remembered Samuel’s words. ‘Well, things are going to change around here,’ I replied. ‘You can speculate all you want from now on.’

  He laughed at that, and his face shed its years again. Perhaps he had been handsome once, just like my mother said.

  ‘That will take some getting used to,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s start now, then,’ I said. ‘I’ve seen the letter you tried to burn.’ He lifted his bushy eyebrows in surprise. ‘His Lordship was my father,’ I added. ‘You knew that all along.’

  Mr Lock looked down at his feet, then up again. ‘I suppose I knew,’ he said. ‘I’m not as sharp-eyed as Lillian, but I’m not simple either. I could see it when they were together. Just little things – shared glances, something in the air when they occupied the same room . . .’

  ‘They loved each other,’ I said, my tears welling up.

  ‘They must have done,’ said Mr Lock. ‘He left you all this, didn’t he?’

  I wanted him to say more, but it was like getting blood out of a stone.

  ‘And Mrs Cotton knew? About the letter too?’

  ‘It seems like it,’ he said. ‘Though I don’t see how. She told me where it was, and that I had to burn it straight away. She said it was for the best. I don’t – I don’t know why I did it.’

  He couldn’t look me in the eye any more.

  ‘What happened up there?’ I asked. ‘I saw you running down the stairs.’

  ‘I had a funny turn, that’s all.’

  ‘It was more than that,’ I said.

  ‘Please,’ he said, ‘I don’t want to say.’

  He was pale again, and wringing his hands. Just an old man, afraid. I didn’t press him further.

  ‘Well,’ he said, pulling himself together, ‘you can’t be sleeping up in the attic any more. Shall I prepare Her Ladyship’s old room for you?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m fine where I am for now. I’ve told the other two to take the day off. Why don’t you too?’

  ‘Very well, miss,’ he said uncertainly. ‘And what will you do?’

  I hadn’t thought much about that, but I made a decision on the spur of the moment.

  ‘I think I’ll go for a walk,’ I said. ‘In the Park.’

  ‘Then you’ll be needing keys,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ I smiled. ‘I suppose I will.’

  Mr Lock gave me his, and I went upstairs to get changed into my blue dress. I found a plain shawl in Lizzy’s room and took it with me. I was sure she wouldn’t mind. First thing next day, I planned to go to her sister’s place and find her. I couldn’t begin to imagine what she’d say.

  I took the servants’ stairs out of habit, but left by the front door. Across the road, I entered the Park and walked slowly around the perimeter, marvelling at the great barracks building, and then at Buckingham Palace. What must the Queen feel like when she was in there? Surely not at home. It was too big for anyone, just like Greave Hall.

  When I was opposite the house, on the other side of the lake, I looked back. It really was a very grand residence – one of the finest on the edge of the Park. There was so much to do, and I felt more alone than ever. Cook and Mr Lock could help with day-to-day matters, but I knew nothing of property or money, nothing of business affairs or hiring staff.

  A high-pitched voice called out, ‘Is that you, Abigail?’

  A cart had pulled up on the road nearest to me, some thirty yards away. It was Adam. I hadn’t seen him since I had snapped at him a few days ago, but his face was a welcome sight now. I ran across the grass to the road.

  ‘What you doing out?’ he said. ‘That housekeeper been at the drink?’

  After everything that had happened, he was so normal.

  ‘Something like that,’ I said. ‘Listen, Adam, I’m sorry about before.’

  He waved his hand. ‘Think nothing of it,’ he said. ‘I gave up tryin’ to understand women long ago.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’ I laughed. ‘You’ve known a lot of women, have you?’

  ‘’Ave I?’ he said, with mock surprise. ‘I’ll tell you sometime, but it’s a long story.’

  ‘You can tell me next time you come around.’

  ‘Right you are, miss,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’

  He trundled off.

  I’ve got quite a long story for you too, I thought.

  When I got back, Mr Lock told me that Samuel had taken a cab to his club in town, and that Mrs Cotton had not come out of her room as far as he knew. The light was fading, so I made myself a sandwich and took it upstairs to Lizzy’s room. I ate it, then lay back on the bed.

  Perhaps I could manage this after all.

  I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I must have been more tired than I thought. I woke thinking that I’d heard a creak on the stairs, and sat up in a daze. It was pitch black outside. What t
ime was it?

  Another creak. This time I was sure.

  I swung my legs off the bed, and listened. I could hear breathing too. Laboured, heavy breathing.

  Someone was climbing the attic stairs.

  I knew who it was at once. These were not the regular steps of Mrs Cotton. It was not Lizzy or Rob. This was an uneven gait. I heard the soft knocking of a crutch. Samuel.

  I’d thought he would surely sleep at his club, so if he was back here, there was only one reason for his visit.

  I should have slept downstairs.

  The steps reached the top of the stairs. Why hadn’t I listened to Mr Lock? I looked around the room for something to defend myself with, and the steps began to move away.

  Of course – he was going to my room. But I was in here. I had a chance.

  I tiptoed to the wardrobe and pulled open the door as quietly as possible. There was nothing inside. The clothes rail was empty.

  He would have seen I wasn’t in bed by now.

  The clothes rail was a wooden pole, three feet long, suspended on two brackets but not screwed in. I unhooked it and pulled it out of the wardrobe, but on the way it bumped against the door. The sound was deafening.

  Suddenly, outside the door, the footsteps approached more quickly.

  Knock-step, knock-step, knock-step.

  Then Samuel was standing in the doorway.

  ‘Hello, little sister,’ he said.

  .

  Chapter 42

  Sammy’s hair was plastered to his forehead and his face dark. I could smell alcohol on his breath.

  ‘What do you want?’ I said.

  ‘I want what you’ve stolen from me,’ he replied.

  I held the pole in front of me like a sword. ‘I’ve not stolen anything.’

  He coughed, a hacking choking cough, with his mouth pressed into the crook of his elbow. ‘You’ve stolen everything that belongs to me!’

  The clothes rail seemed pathetic now. The end was trembling. ‘Well, I won’t give you anything,’ I said.

  Samuel shook his head. ‘I thought you might say that,’ he went on, ‘which is why I’ve brought this.’ Reaching inside his jacket, he took out a paring knife from the kitchen. The words dried up in my throat. ‘Would anyone really be surprised,’ he continued, ‘if you decided to take your own life, Abi? Up here, all alone. No mother, no father, no friends. You’ve had a tough year, haven’t you?’