by Issy Brooke
“Indeed, I am sure you can help and I should be grateful for it. The backbone of any experiment is the hours and days of research and reading that precedes it. Please make use of the library and ensure you are up to date with all the latest thinking in science.”
The look on Brodie’s face was priceless. He wanted to do things, active things, exciting things and here was Theodore, telling him to go away and read books. He flared his nostrils and left the room without arguing back. Theodore smiled to himself. It was the reaction of a boy of fifteen, sullen and unwilling, not a mature man. The lad needed to be put into the army, perhaps, and forced to grow up.
Theodore worked for a little while longer, cataloguing the instruments and making notes of things he might need. He then took up a few untarnished copper coins and headed out. Brodie was not in the study as he passed through. Theodore didn’t spot him anywhere on his way to and from the ice house.
As he came back into Tavy Castle, Theodore saw Adelia talking to one of the maids at the back of the great hall. She came over when she saw her husband.
“Word has come back from the chapel that Mrs Rush attends,” Adelia told him. “The pastor there has returned from his trip – he had been called away for a few days immediately after last Sunday’s service – but he readily admits to having seen Mrs Rush there as always. Her alibi cannot be more unshakable than that, can it?”
“It cannot. And I too have news. I strongly suspect that Hartley Knight was hit on the head and then poisoned by gases.”
Adelia’s eyes widened. “But if not by Mrs Rush, then by whom?”
Ten
Adelia found herself restless on Wednesday morning. Mrs Carstairs had summoned her to the At Home day and the calling hours did not start until three at the earliest. There were things that Adelia had to do that morning, of course; there was plenty to occupy her before she had to leave. But while her hands were busy, her mind was wandering. Theodore had told her about his experiments and she had agreed with his conclusion.
Poison.
They had amended their list of suspects, removing Mrs Rush entirely due to her unshakable alibi, putting the deaths of her previous lovers down to rumour and gossip and unfortunate coincidence.
Adelia had made a second list of every member of the household including the servants and she had gone through it, accounting for each person’s whereabouts on the morning of Knight’s death. Every single member of staff was either at church or at the chapel that Mrs Rush had attended, except for one maid who had remained with Felicia back at Tavy Castle. Felicia and this maid were the alibi for one another and neither had any discernible motive to kill Knight. Adelia’s hand shook as she wrote Felicia’s name anyway. Felicia’s mind was wayward; that much was obvious. But to write one’s own daughter into a list of suspects? It made Adelia feel sick. But she could not be a good detective unless she were objective.
She wrote the name very faintly, as if that could make it better.
Also on the list were Lady Agnes, and The Countess who was too frail to be a plausible suspect. Again, each served as the alibi for the other except that Lady Agnes had already said that The Countess had been asleep while she had read the Bible to her and there was no one to vouch for her own whereabouts. She seemed to say it as a challenge – Find me guilty then, if you dare.
And finally there was Lady Katharine and her son Oscar Brodie, living their curiously quiet life out in the gatehouse, both with their own oddities and both claiming to be the alibi for one another.
“None of these alibis are worth a thing,” Adelia said. “Anyone might say anything to protect a family member.”
“I agree.” Theodore took a pencil and underlined Lady Agnes and Oscar Brodie. “I would look into these two first – what do you think?”
“Oscar Brodie, yes, because he is strange and lost and hides in the grounds, watching everything. He must know something. But Lady Agnes? Honestly, I don’t think she is a killer, but it is true she is also hiding something, some secret.”
He tapped Lady Katharine’s name. “And her?”
“Goodness, she is even more unlikely than Lady Agnes.”
“Yet she is here on the list.” He underlined her with a series of dots. His hand hovered over Felicia and the maid.
“No, not Felicia, never her. I only wrote her down because ... I had to.”
“The maid, then?”
“She is a timid girl of fourteen who can barely lift a bucket of water. If you can imagine a situation in which she has done what you think she has done, then yes. But I am struggling to picture it.”
Theodore put the pencil down, leaving Felicia’s name alone. “Very well. Let us uncover the secrets that Lady Agnes and Oscar Brodie are hiding, and I will examine further how I think the death happened, and by bringing these things together, perhaps we can uncover the culprit.”
Adelia groaned in frustration. “If only we knew why he was killed, we should be so much closer to who did it! There must have been something in the ice house.”
“Perhaps. I shall be there today, looking into everything.”
“Please be careful. I do not trust the gas that you speak of. Leave the door open and be on your guard.”
“As long as I don’t go splashing muriatic acid around, I will be fine.” He smiled, but he wasn’t making a joke. He stood up, bent to kiss her on the cheek, and left her alone to waste a little more time before she had to dress and call upon Mrs Carstairs that afternoon.
ADELIA ARRIVED AT MRS Carstairs’ house on the dot of three o’clock, which would have been considered unfashionable in London, but this was clearly not the case in Plymouth. Already present was a young woman dressed in pale, gauzy silks that seemed to shift colours as she moved, and she was halfway through a sandwich and talking loudly to Mrs Carstairs, peppering each sentence with “My Algernon says...” and “My Algernon believes...” From her expensive clothes and youthful looks, Adelia pegged her immediately as a love-struck newlywed, and that made Adelia smile. She could still remember those feelings.
Mrs Carstairs drew Adelia into the conversation with ease, introducing her to Mrs Algernon Pettigrew-Lyons, and within a few minutes Adelia knew all about Algernon’s commission in the navy, Algernon’s favourite brand of cigar, Algernon’s thoughts on Prime Minister Gladstone, and why Algernon preferred anchovies, in spite of – you know – the breath.
Adelia was happy to listen. The young bride was nervous, underneath her chatter; nervous about her new status in the world, nervous about what was expected of her now, and also so clearly in love with her husband that it simply didn’t occur to her to ask anyone else about their lives. Adelia nibbled on a little finger food and luckily Mrs Pettigrew-Lyons left after a crammed five minutes. As soon as she left, Mrs Carstairs laughed.
“She’s on a circuit today; she is quite determined to visit everyone in town.”
“She ought to pace her sandwich-eating, then, or she’ll be dyspeptic by half past four. I wonder what Algernon would think of that. Ah! And who is this coming in now...?”
“Captain Everard! Did I not promise you, Adelia?” Mrs Carstairs rose up and brought the officer into the room, smiling broadly. He bowed low to Adelia as Mrs Carstairs introduced her. He settled into a chair alongside them both.
“Lady Calaway, what a pleasure. But what, I must ask, has been promised in my name?”
“Only yourself, dear Cornelius. Only your good self.”
“But for what nefarious ends?” he asked, laughing.
Adelia liked him. He had a gentle way of speaking, and a relaxed air when he sat, without sprawling his long legs all over the place like some men tended to do. He kept himself close and contained, which she guessed was from his long years spent aboard ships in cramped quarters. He was tanned and weather-beaten, with lines around his eyes and grey running in wide bands through his thick hair. And he noticed Adelia’s appraisal of him.
“I am being sized up, am I not?” he said to her. Mrs Carstairs headed
away to greet another pair of guests.
“I must confess that you are,” she replied, hoping that he would appreciate the honesty. “I have heard that you are a widower and I do wonder why you have not been snapped up by anyone.”
His smile faded. “It is true. My dear wife has been gone for five years now and there was an indecent clamour to become the next Mrs Everard.” He pressed his lips together in distaste.
Adelia nodded. “I am sorry to hear of it – not only the loss of your wife, but also the inevitable frenzy that it must have sparked among a certain type of woman.”
“Indeed it did, and I was somewhat shocked. I consider myself a man of the world but I have seen a side to society that has troubled me greatly. I have vowed, therefore, to remain as happy as I am, alone for the rest of my days. Any woman who wants me now is not the sort of woman that I want, if that makes sense to you?”
“It makes perfect sense,” Adelia said with a smile. “And yet here you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you really were perfectly content to ride out your days alone, you would not be calling upon Mrs Carstairs.” Mrs Carstairs had told Adelia that he was looking for the right sort of wife; this reticence, she knew, was all part of the game. They played along happily.
“As to that, she invited me so that I could not refuse. Furthermore, I have been involved in some of the management of this Floating Ball that she is so set upon. As a representative of the navy, I am to act as some kind of go-between. Essentially, my main role is to prevent the planning of any unworkable excesses. I have already had to refuse the idea that they borrow a tiger from the zoo. I am sure there will be yet more steadying conversations that I shall have to have with Mrs Carstairs.”
“Oh dear. Is that very onerous?”
“No, it is a pleasure. And an amusement.”
“See, you are a sociable man at heart.”
“Perhaps.” He gave her a long, considering look. “But you are married to the Earl of Calaway, so why this interest in my situation?”
“I shall be blunt. I am matchmaking for a friend. But now I find that I am not sure you’ll do.”
“Excuse me?” he said, spluttering. “That is not the way it works! Do I not get to choose?”
She looked him up and down, and smiled. She knew she was almost flirting-by-proxy but it was harmless fun and it was important to check that he had a sense of humour. “If you pass my tests, I may consider allowing you to be chosen.”
“You must tell me about this friend of yours.”
“I warn you, she is somewhat particular. She is a spinster, unwed all her life, and now in her forties and quite content – as much as you are – to shuffle through the rest of her life as a free and independent being.”
“Shuffle?”
“Yes. For she is alone, and you are alone. You shuffle. But together, perhaps you might dance...”
“Describe her to me, then,” he declared, and Adelia knew she had won the first victory.
THEODORE EXAMINED EVERY inch of the ice house. It was cool in there, but not cold, and certainly unsuitable for ice. The interior was circular, and sunk below the level of the ground outside. The channels cut in the floor were half full of the same dank water that Knight had been found in. The police had moved things around. Theodore placed a few lanterns around and kept the door propped open. He sniffed the air but there was not a great deal of hydrogen sulphide, as far as he could tell. It was noxious stuff and easily identifiable – at first. He also knew that it worked upon a man’s nose, so that after a certain amount of exposure to it, one ceased being able to tell that it was present. That was one reason it was so deadly.
It was also flammable, and tended to pool in low layers rather than rising up. The fact that none of the lanterns had exploded in a shower of glass was both reassuring generally, and also told Theodore that there was very little sewer gas present, at least at the moment. He went around and placed a few more copper coins around the ice house anyway, particularly in the area that Knight had been found. He drew a map in pencil on some thick paper, and marked all the places he had placed a coin. Discolouration would not take long if gas was present, and he would regularly check for changes, in case Oscar’s suggestion that the gases came in waves was correct.
From the light by the lanterns he could see how much the police had moved things. They had not done much damage, thankfully. There were scuffs in the floor from boots where there had been the most traffic by the entrance, and some wooden boxes had been opened and left open. Most were full of rocks, untamed and unprocessed pure lapis lazuli in its original mineral form. There were also earthenware jars, quite large, containing grainy blue powder.
It was to this powder that Theodore now turned his attention. He had a theory to test and he had brought out his bottle of muriatic acid to do so. He took one of the jars to the entrance, where there was no danger of him becoming overcome by the fumes, and gently dropped a splash of acid onto the powder, performing again the same test for the presence of hydrogen sulphide.
He sniffed the air.
Nothing.
He bent closer. Still nothing. Had his senses already become deadened to the whiff of rotten eggs?
Perhaps that batch of lapis lazuli was adulterated somehow.
Frowning, he tested another jar of powder. Then he dropped acid on some rocks. He took a small chisel and a hammer and hacked off a lump, and tested that.
Nothing.
There was no sign of noxious gas from any of the rocks, pigments, powders and minerals that filled the ice house.
How could that be? Lapis lazuli released the stench of rotten eggs when tested with muriatic acid.
He sat down on a chest by the entrance and put his head in his hands.
Now he knew.
Everything here was fake. Every rock, every stone, every jar of pigment – there was not a single scrap of real lapis lazuli in the whole place.
He was beset by questions now.
Why would the family keep a massive stock of worthless rocks? Why would they say that it was all real? Why would Knight be here? What else had been stored here, if anything? Did Knight know it was fake?
If he didn’t know it was fake – did he die to protect it?
If so – from whom?
There was another explanation. Theodore had to consider that perhaps, just perhaps, Knight had tripped and fallen and twisted over and somehow been overcome by sewer gas after all.
Theodore shook his head. No. There were too many layers of secrets here, and he was only chipping away at the surface yet.
Eleven
Theodore sat in frustration for a little while before shaking himself and getting stiffly to his feet. He took up his notes and the maps of where he had left the coins, and stacked the lanterns by the door, ready for his next visit. He left, intending to walk around the grounds in spite of the oppressive heat. Walking helped to clear his head. He pulled at his collar to loosen it, and flapped his coat as he went, trying to help cool himself down a little. If he could have stripped to his shirt sleeves like a labourer or bohemian artist, he would have done. However, the Earl of Calaway had standards and he couldn’t quite bring himself to be one of those eccentric upper class men who seemed to get away with behaving in shocking ways. They always assumed they were protected by privilege and position – until the world turned on them anyway, and they found themselves splashed across the papers and refused entry to the better sort of salon.
No. It was still better to stick to most of society’s conventions. It was one of the things that both he and Adelia agreed upon very firmly.
A movement caught his eye and he froze. He was screened by a conifer hedge, and he stayed very still. The figure was not walking particularly suspiciously or furtively, but it turned out to be Oscar Brodie, wandering with no apparent aim along one of the curving paths around the shrubbery. Theodore felt bad, but he didn’t want to encounter the young man. He stayed hidden until Brodie had p
assed out of sight and then he revised his plan. He decided not to walk in the grounds any longer. Instead, he headed inside.
He headed to the room he had commandeered as his laboratory so that he could look over his notes and consider motives and means. The lapis lazuli – or whatever it was – was bothering him. To get to the laboratory he had to pass through the lower study-cum-library, which he had expected to find empty.
Instead, he was startled to come across The Countess sitting in an upright leather chair which had been dragged away from the fireplace and put near to a table. Lady Agnes sat on a more ordinary wooden chair to one side. Lady Agnes was leafing through a book, and they were silent.
Lady Agnes looked up, her finger resting on the book to mark her spot, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted. “Lord Calaway! You look flustered.”
He liked her for her plain speaking. “I am too hot.”
She nodded at the bundle of papers in his hand. “You have been looking around the ice house and thinking about the death, have you not? I am assured that the police found no evidence of foul play.” She cocked her head. “And you disagree.”
“Do you disagree?”
“That was not an answer to my question.” She glanced over at The Countess. She was so very elderly with her chin sunken onto her chest and her eyes clouded and dim. He was not sure how good her hearing was. Sometimes she seemed to be oblivious to everything and yet at other times she was the wittiest, fastest conversationalist at the dinner table.
The Countess stirred, her wrinkled hand tapping on the arm-rests of her chair. Something seemed to pass between them. Lady Agnes turned back to Theodore and said, “I am not sure if I agree with the police or not. Their explanation sounds plausible, so I am curious as to why you are still investigating.”
“Their investigation is indeed plausible.” Theodore was very aware that Lady Agnes’s name was at the top of his list of suspects, so he was not going to reveal too much. He was regretting being drawn into the conversation at all. This sort of thing was far better left to Adelia to deal with. Awkwardly, he began to walk through the room, heading for the narrow door that opened into a small space from where the stairs led up to the next part of the tower.
