Silas and the Winterbottoms

by Stephen M. Giles

  Making herself more comfortable on the floor, Adele was moving the other books to one side when a name caught her eye. The book was The Science of the Soul. The author: Dr Mikal Mangrove! Could it be the same Dr Mangrove who was hiding in the basement of Sommerset? Surely it was no coincidence. Carefully she opened the book and immediately her eyes fell upon the publication date. She froze. No.

  No, it was not possible!

  She read it again.

  Published in 1867. Dr Mangrove was over one hundred and fifty years old! Trembling, Adele opened the book and began to read.

  THE TABLES TURN

  Two days passed and the police investigation made little progress. The weapon used to cut the elevator cable had not been located and, without an eyewitness, hopes of identifying Silas’s would-be assassin began to fade.

  Just as life returned to normal on the island, Silas’s health began to deteriorate. He fainted several times in the gardens and was often breathless and unable to leave his bed.

  It was clear to all that Silas was in the final stages of his illness.

  Refusing to give in to the gloom of her brother’s condition, Rosemary organised a special lunch in his honour to be held in the wildflower meadow. Mrs Hammer oversaw the preparations and the kitchen created a feast of lobsters, cheese platters, leafy salads and trays of delicious fruits from the orchard.

  On the day of the picnic the sun sat high in the pale blue sky. Isabella had insisted on escorting Silas and Thorn to the luncheon all by herself; she was desperate to spend as much alone time with her uncle as possible. While she no longer regarded Milo as real competition for Silas’s fortune (he hated the man, after all), the same could not be said for Adele. Despite a string of disasters, Silas still seemed to take a particular interest in the little tomato head – twice Isabella had seen them whispering together in the library. It was infuriating!

  Fortunately Isabella had a new plan. She had recently learned that her uncle was fiercely protective of a particular flower in his garden – the Phoenix Rose – and would explode with rage if anyone even went near them. With this information in mind Isabella convinced dear Adele to cut a large bunch of Phoenix Roses to decorate the table at Silas’s special lunch.

  Adele, still desperate to get back in her uncle’s good graces after poisoning his crocodile, immediately took the bait. Wickedly, Isabella suggested that Adele write a special card to go with the flowers.

  ‘That way,’ she explained, ‘Uncle Silas will know that the gesture was all yours!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Adele eagerly, ‘a note. What a great idea!’

  Walking through the central garden room with Silas and Thorn on their way to the lunch, Isabella stopped to admire a yellow rose.

  ‘Oh how beautiful!’ She sighed dreamily. ‘It is so fortunate that Sommerset will never be mine. You see, unlike Adele, I could never change anything about the island. Not a single thing.’

  ‘Come now, surely you would change something about the place?’

  ‘Never! It is paradise,’ Isabella insisted, ‘and should remain exactly as it is today.’

  Silas closed his eyes and Isabella noticed how fragile he seemed.

  ‘What a pity, child,’ he whispered, ‘that you made me promise not to consider you as my heir.’

  In mere seconds Isabella was kneeling by her uncle’s chair, her hand gently stroking his bony arm. ‘But, Uncle, you know I have no need for it,’ she said earnestly. ‘Not like Adele and Milo, who are so very poor.’ She pointed to a group of potted fig trees beneath a stone window. ‘I would have more use for one of those trees than I would for Sommerset.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Silas.

  Isabella sighed again. ‘But I suppose,’ she said solemnly, ‘if you did have your heart set on leaving Sommerset to me . . . well I would have to put my own feelings aside and accept your wishes, Uncle.’ She kissed his cold hand. ‘You know what is best, after all.’

  Down in the meadow, under the shade of the enormous evergreen oak, a long table was laid with polished silverware and bone china. In the centre stood a large crystal vase filled with flaming Phoenix Roses.

  When Isabella arrived with Silas and Thorn she made certain that her uncle did not go directly to the table, urging him to sit out in the sun and rest while the final preparations were made. The idea seemed to please him and Isabella walked with Silas down to the lake. She placed a blanket over his legs and kissed his cheek.

  ‘I will call you when lunch is ready, Uncle,’ she said sweetly.

  ‘Actually,’ said Silas, ‘I wish to have a word with you . . . with all of you. Please gather you cousins and bring them down to me.’

  ‘Now?’ asked Isabella.

  ‘Indeed.’

  Dutifully Isabella returned to the oak tree. She found Adele first and congratulated her on the flowers.

  ‘They look wonderful, Cousin!’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Adele. ‘I had to climb the wall to get into Uncle Silas’s hidden garden. I was certain Moses would catch me! Do you really think he will like them?’

  ‘He will love them!’ declared Isabella. ‘You wrote a card, as I suggested?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Adele. ‘I just hope he is pleased this time.’

  ‘I am sure he will be, Cousin,’ said Isabella reassuringly. She looked about the meadow. ‘Now where on earth is the orphan? Uncle Silas wants to speak with all of us before lunch.’

  Once Milo was located – he was found wandering around near the greenhouse – the three cousins headed down to the lake to meet with their uncle.

  ‘There is something you should know,’ announced Silas without delay. ‘From tonight your bedrooms will have to be locked from the outside. This measure is being taken for your own safety.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ said Milo angrily. ‘We are not prisoners!’

  ‘It does seem rather extreme, Uncle,’ said Isabella more gently.

  ‘It is for your own protection,’ said Silas. ‘There is an assassin somewhere on the island and until that person is captured I must do everything I can to protect you.’Turning his back and moving away from the children he added, ‘In time you will get used to it.’

  Adele had a terrible feeling. After her discovery in the library she knew that Uncle Silas was planning something truly awful and she did not believe for one minute that locking them up at night had anything to do with the attempt on his life. She wanted to say something to her cousins, to warn them, but before she could Rosemary called everyone to the table.

  As the maids began serving lunch, Silas took his position at the head of the table. He immediately noticed the crystal vase full of murdered Phoenix Roses. His face froze in an expression of disbelief and rage.

  Adele and Isabella exchanged excited glances as Silas reached for the small white envelope at the base of the vase and tore it open.

  ‘Do read it aloud, Uncle!’ urged Isabella. She could hardly contain her excitement – surely Silas would have Adele flogged and thrown from the island for this!

  ‘Very well,’ snarled Silas. ‘The card says, From your loving niece . . . Isabella.’

  Instantly the satisfied smile fell from Isabella’s face to be replaced with a look of extreme confusion.

  ‘What?’ she shrieked. ‘Um, Uncle . . . don’t you mean From your loving niece Adele?’

  ‘No, I do not.’ Silas threw the card at her. He looked pained as he continued to stare at his beloved flowers, blooming in shades of orange, red and yellow like a hundred heads of fire.

  ‘These flowers are precious,’ he seethed, his teeth glistening like fangs. ‘How dare you touch them, Isabella! You stupid little imbecile!’

  Isabella began to tremble. ‘But . . . Uncle . . . there has been a mistake. You see . . .’ But she could not explain. Not without revealing her role in the whole dreadful business. She was trapped.

  Adele leaned over to her cousin and whispered, ‘You have helped me so much, Isabella. It didn’t seem right that I keep taking all
the credit for your wonderful ideas.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘This is just my way of saying thank you, Cousin.’

  Isabella gasped.

  ‘Why, you little freckle-faced freak!’ she spat, her nostrils flaring. ‘I’ll get you for this, I swear I will!’ She turned to face her uncle like a guilty prisoner awaiting her sentence. ‘Uncle, you must understand that I did not do –’

  ‘Do not say another word!’ Silas snapped, interrupting her. ‘I think it would be best if you returned to your room at once.’

  ‘But, Uncle . . .’

  ‘Go!’ hissed Silas, his black eyes swelling with rage.

  Isabella jumped up, knocking her chair to the ground, and ran towards the house, wailing loudly the whole way.

  ‘They’re only flowers, for goodness’ sake,’ said Rosemary.

  ‘No they are not!’ declared Silas. ‘They are everything!’ He backed away from the table. ‘I have lost my appetite,’ he said curtly. ‘You must continue without me.’

  Rosemary called her brother several awful names before grabbing two large lobsters and a cheese platter and stomping off towards the summerhouse. Next to go was Milo. He had still not forgiven Adele for conspiring with Isabella to make him a suspect in the elevator crash. He left without a word.

  Adele looked around the abandoned table.

  When Isabella first came to her and suggested she pick the Phoenix Roses for Uncle Silas, Adele was already awake to her cousin’s true motive. That horrible night after Thorn was poisoned, Adele had looked back over everything that had happened since she arrived on the island and her cousin’s manipulation was suddenly shockingly clear . . . Isabella had been playing her for a fool since day one! Every kind word, every piece of helpful advice – it had all been one gigantic trick!

  And if Adele had any doubts about her theory they vanished when Isabella encouraged her to pick the flowers her uncle loved so much. Cutting Silas’s beloved Phoenix Roses, killing them, was hardly going to please him. It didn’t make sense. Actually, it did make sense. Isabella wasn’t trying to help Adele; she was trying to destroy her chances. Not only was her cousin a thief and a liar, she was scheming to get Sommerset all for herself!

  Hurt and anger had fuelled Adele’s decision to get even with Isabella for all the horrible things she had done – and it had worked. Isabella had been disgraced in Uncle Silas’s eyes. And yet, getting even hadn’t taken away the deep unease coiled in the pit of Adele’s stomach. In fact, it had only intensified since her shocking discovery in the library. It was the same unease she had tried to bury that first morning when a passing cloud had revealed Sommerset House as a great squatting beast, its sharp talons poised to strike.

  Only now was she beginning to understand what that gruesome vision had been trying to tell her – the monster poised to strike was Silas Winterbottom.

  MIDNIGHT CALLER

  Two candles mounted in a silver bracket on the wall illuminated the library in a soft apricot glow. Silas sat under the flickering light with his eyes closed, his right hand stroking the rough scales of Thorn’s head.

  He was waiting.

  ‘Sorry I am late, Uncle,’ she said, rushing into the room.

  Silas’s eyes flicked open, two dark globes glistening in the dim light.

  ‘As am I,’ said Silas sharply. ‘After what you did today, consider it a small miracle that you are even here, child.’

  ‘Yes, Uncle. I’m very sorry –’

  ‘Silence. I am in no mood for grovelling. It is late and you should be locked up safely in your bedroom like your cousins. I trust you have a very good reason for requesting this meeting.’

  ‘Yes, Uncle. You see, I must tell you that there is a thief in the house.’

  ‘A thief?’ said Silas slowly.

  She nodded. ‘She has stolen silverware, clocks . . . all kinds of things. I’ve seen her stealing with my own eyes.’ She stopped, her voice breaking up. ‘I don’t want to get anybody in trouble but I can’t keep it from you any longer.’

  Silas observed his niece with great interest, his pallid face suddenly more alive than it had been in days. ‘I am very pleased that you have come to me with this.’ He rubbed at his lips. ‘Now tell me, child, who is the thief?’

  ‘It is Adele,’ she said, the glow from the flickering candle dancing across her face. ‘I saw her take the silverware at dinner last week.’ Isabella wiped at her eyes. ‘Oh, Uncle, I never thought someone as kind and gentle as Adele could steal from her own family!’

  ‘Indeed,’ remarked Silas. ‘I must confess that after you mutilated my roses, I had no desire to see your face ever again.’ He took a shallow breath. ‘But you have impressed me, Isabella; turning in your cousin like this takes considerable . . . courage.’

  ‘What will happen now?’ Isabella asked. ‘What will you do to her?’

  ‘I will do what needs to be done.’

  Rosemary dug into the deep pockets of her dressing-gown and found two walnuts and a hairpin. She replaced the hairpin and began to munch enthusiastically on the nuts, humming all the while. From the glass dome high above her, moonlight bathed the entrance hall in a pearly glow. Even Rosemary’s mass of tangled red hair looked soft and pale. She stepped over one of the deeper cracks in the floor, twirling around playfully as she went.

  ‘Does the state of my floor amuse you, Rosemary?’

  The chunky woman was startled, letting out a gasp. ‘Good lord! You nearly scared the life out of me, Silas!’

  ‘Indeed.’ He moved his chair over the web of fractures which spun across the stone floor. ‘I thought you had retired to bed?’

  ‘Couldn’t sleep,’ his sister said simply, picking a piece of walnut from between her massive front teeth. ‘Who can sleep with all the nonsense going on in this house? Crashing elevators, assassins on the loose, young children locked in their bedrooms. Honestly, Silas, is that really necessary?’

  ‘It is,’ said Silas firmly. ‘As you delight in pointing out, there is a killer on the loose. I have a moral duty to protect Isabella, Milo and Adele and that is what I am doing.’

  ‘Which is all very noble, Silas,’ said Rosemary with a roll of her big dark eyes. ‘But as I recall, the assassin tried to kill you, not them. Seems to me you’ve locked the wrong person in their bedroom.’

  Silas covered his mouth and yawned. ‘How witty you are, Sister.’

  ‘Something has been troubling me,’ said Rosemary, regarding her brother carefully. ‘And forgive me for saying this, Silas, but why on earth would someone go to all the effort of killing a man who is already dying? As a student of human nature I would think that such a person must be filled with rage. Who on earth could hate you that much?’

  Silas closed his eyes and took a shallow breath. ‘The assassin is insane,’ he said slowly. ‘Who knows what twisted reason they may have conjured? I am a wealthy man, Sister, and hate is drawn to wealth as bees are to honey. Anyone . . . anyone at all might have marked me for death.’ He opened his eyes and glared at her darkly. ‘Even you.’

  ‘Me?’ Rosemary let out a snort. ‘Why on earth would I want to kill you?’

  ‘Neglect, envy, spite,’ said Silas coolly. ‘Take your pick. I ignored you for thirty years and suddenly you turn up uninvited, demanding to stay. Days later an attempt is made on my life. The timing is rather interesting, don’t you think?’

  Rosemary smiled, her teeth flaring under the moonlight. ‘Silas, if I really was the assassin, you would already be dead.’

  ‘Would I?’ His black eyes were locked onto hers.

  ‘Oh yes, pet,’ whispered Rosemary. She took three short steps towards her brother’s chair. ‘I spent two years in the Amazon – met the most wonderful tribe living along the Japura River. What they don’t know about poisonous plants isn’t worth knowing. A few drops in your milk and your heart would stop within thirty seconds. And the best part of all? The poison leaves no trace.’

  ‘You seem to have given my death a great deal of thought.’


  ‘Not really,’ said Rosemary with a shrug. ‘I’m just pointing out that if I was going to kill you, I certainly wouldn’t need to destroy a perfectly good elevator in the process. You look tired, Brother.’ She kissed Silas on the forehead. ‘We can talk again in the morning. Here’s an idea – I’ll cook you an old-fashioned breakfast, just like Mother used to make us when we were children. Do you remember?’

  ‘I do,’ said Silas softly.

  Rosemary licked her lips. ‘Fried bacon and mushrooms, poached eggs and a lovely tall glass of milk.’

  Throwing her brother a wicked grin, Rosemary departed.

  Silas watched thoughtfully as his sister ambled across the vast entrance hall and disappeared down a corridor, the loud thump of her heavy steps fading into a deathly silence.

  Adele was perched on a broad tree limb peering at the curtains of Milo’s bedroom window. She had been out there for several minutes, gathering courage. Carefully she stepped onto the window ledge. With her right hand she parted the curtain and looked into the room.

  Milo’s bed was empty. She leaned in for a closer look. Milo had to be there – his door was locked, just like hers. Where could he have gone? Suddenly a hand gripped her wrist, pulling her through the window. She fell to the floor with a thump.

  ‘Why are you spying on me?’ Milo demanded to know.

  Adele pulled her arm from Milo’s grip.

  ‘I wasn’t spying!’ she said as she got to her feet. ‘I need your help.’

  Milo gazed at her suspiciously. It wasn’t that he disliked his cousin – she’d been rather nice to him, in fact – but he didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust anyone. ‘Help with what?’

  ‘Stopping Uncle Silas,’ she said simply.

  He hadn’t expected that. Milo only had to look into his cousin’s eyes to see that she wasn’t kidding around. All of a sudden he was very interested in what Adele had to say. ‘Okay, I’m listening.’

  The girl sat down on the bed and took a deep breath.

  ‘The first thing you should know is that Uncle Silas asked me to spy on you and Isabella . . . and I agreed.’ Before Milo could react, Adele pressed on, letting the whole story tumble out – about Ratchet’s House and Uncle Silas’s threats and the secret guest and the carving in the floor and the hidden shelf and what she had read in Dr Mangrove’s book.