by Issy Brooke
But neither man minded the disagreements which were always undertaken between them in a spirit of informative, challenging and politely managed discourse.
Outside, the weather had broken. Rain hammered down without cease, clearing away any final stragglers still lingering out there, hoping to see – well, what exactly did they think they’d see? Theodore didn’t understand the attraction. Adelia spent her time shuttling between Felicia’s room and Mrs Carstairs’ drawing room in Plymouth, and she looked tired and overwrought to Theodore’s eyes. Doctor Netherfield agreed that Adelia was worn out but he also suggested it was the best thing for her to be active rather than dwelling on things – “For nothing we can do for Lady Buckshaw will be half as beneficial as rest, understanding, and being surrounded by beauty. Let your good lady wife be occupied elsewhere for it will do no harm to Lady Buckshaw.”
It had to be said that perhaps Doctor Netherfield was correct. Felicia began to return to her senses again. They cut back on her medication – Doctor Netherfield was keen to withdraw all the doses that she had been taking, slowly and by careful degrees. He argued that by preventing her from feeling her own emotions, they became monsters in her head to torment her. She spent more time awake, and when she slept, it was a sound and healthy sleep. She still suffered from night terrors, sometimes waking with a scream, gibbering about being awake yet remaining frozen in sleep and unable to move as long dark figures crowded around her bed. But these attacks were becoming less frequent.
The improvement was such that Adelia felt able to concentrate more on the ball, and leave Felicia in the care of Theodore and Doctor Netherfield.
As for Percy, Theodore watched him almost as carefully as the assigned policemen did. He oscillated between passivity and furious rages, but both these extremes sprang from his feeling of utter helplessness; even Theodore could see that. He persistently refused to believe that he was in any kind of danger.
Theodore felt free to unburden himself completely to Doctor Netherfield, at least as far as his fears around Felicia went.
But he kept his other suspicions to himself. When he was not talking with the doctor, instead he spent as much time as he could in the library, trying to hunt around the family records as quietly as he could. He had been mulling over the strange relationship between the two people in the gatehouse and the rest of the inhabitants of Tavy Castle, and trying to find what might have driven them apart. He looked at the businesses and the marriages, the flow of money, the property, the deaths and the births. But the records, as he had established previously, were maddeningly incomplete. He had tried to speak to Percy again, who had shrugged and told him nothing more than he already knew. Lady Agnes had bristled and completely evaded all his probing. The Countess had shot him such a look of malice and begun to cough that he didn’t dare even begin a conversation with her.
Perhaps she reminded him too much of his own mother, who was both adorable and utterly terrifying, as all good mothers should be.
He eventually began to realise that he needed to widen his search. If there was a secret hidden in the past of the Seeley-Wood family, the ancestral Earls of Buckshaw, then that secret wouldn’t be found in the records in the castle. It wouldn’t be easily discovered by a random stranger. He would have to get out of the castle and into society.
He was going to have to go to the Floating Ball.
He had been hoping that he’d be excused from the nonsensical frivolity by saying that he needed to stay at the castle to look after Felicia. Doctor Netherfield and Percy were both claiming the same right, however, and both their claims were far weightier than Theodore’s. Adelia had clapped her hands in glee when he told her he was coming, but he informed her stiffly that it was certainly not going to be a pleasurable outing for him.
When the actual evening of the ball rolled around, he nearly backed out. The idea of spending the next six hours or so in the company of increasingly drunk people on a small ship was fast becoming unappealing in every sense. Felicia desperately wanted to go, and everyone told her that she was utterly unable to do so. Doctor Netherfield pointed out that she was getting better because she was resting and concentrating on pure, high thoughts – all of which would be completely undone by a night of raucous frivolity.
“You will be in the corrosive presence of the very worst of so-called high society,” he said with disdain.
Percy agreed with him, and in the end, it was decided that Percy, the doctor and Felicia would remain at the castle. The Countess was also remaining behind due to her age and she was to be attended to by Lady Katharine who had been persuaded to come up from the gatehouse, releasing Lady Agnes for the first ball she had attended in many decades. Lady Katharine had, of course, refused all entreaties to attend the ball.
Theodore was left alone to get ready while Adelia and Lady Agnes tittered away in an adjoining room like a couple of schoolgirls dressing themselves up as debutantes all over again. He plastered on a happy smile when they came in to parade around, and made all the right noises of appreciation.
In truth, he could see that his wife looked amazing. Her waist was twice as thick as it had been when they had got married, and he loved it, every inch of it, feeling a warm pride that it showed her strength and her motherhood. Her curves were soft and welcoming and he wanted nothing more than to sink into her embrace and wrap himself around her, a gesture that was both protective and possessive.
“Theodore! Are you listening?” Adelia snapped.
“No, my darling. I was admiring you and it took up all of my attention.”
She giggled and went pink and nodded towards Lady Agnes who was pretending that she wasn’t there. “Theodore, let us be sensible,” she said, with a facial expression that did not match her stern words at all. She was excited about the ball, and though Theodore was not, he was happy that she was happy. So he listened to her instructions about who to greet and who were their friends and who was to be “politely ignored – not snubbed, of course, but we cannot be associated with the Jacksons since ... that incident with the cheese, you know” and so on.
“Come along,” he said at last, letting the barest hint of a grumble tinge his words. “Let’s get going and get this over with.”
HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT leaving Felicia due to her illness, but Doctor Netherfield was a capable man. He was also worried about leaving Percy due to the fact he was sure a killer was after him, but Percy was protected by a policeman. He was annoyed that he was not able to use this chance to search the gatehouse, however, and drew Adelia off to one side when they had been at the ball for an hour.
She was revelling in it. Her face was alight and she was constantly pointing decorations, food or people out to him.
“Yes, yes, but what about Oscar Brodie?” he muttered as they pressed under some low-hanging bulkhead at one end of the deck. Now that the rain had cleared slightly, it was pleasant to be out in the open air. The sea was relatively calm and there was little movement on the ship. Music swelled around them.
“What about Oscar? I’m talking about the lanterns, the way they light up the masts so beautifully! You don’t understand, do you?” she said.
He could tell she was annoyed and he tried to apologise. “I do understand. It’s all very pretty, I am sure.”
“Pretty? Ha! I knew it. You don’t understand my position at all. It’s not about the beauty of it – though Doctor Netherfield would surely approve – my joy is because I did this. Not me alone, of course. But along with Mrs Carstairs and the others, we put all of this together! We wrote letters and raised funds and decided to have salmon rolled up on little crackers and we found the very best band and we cut all that bunting by ourselves – do you see it? All of it, Theodore! We made this happen and that is what I find so magnificent. Oh, you, in your own little world of control with the power of life and death over people because you understand medicine and chemicals, and your wider world of control in boardrooms and clubhouses and after-dinner-gatherings with influential men, you w
ill never see what something like this means to me.” She had started her speech with passion but it ended with a flat tailing-away of pure disappointment in her voice.
There was no one looking their way. He grabbed her hands and leaned in close to her, letting his breath tickle her neck as he spoke into her ear. “If I am not looking at the magnificence of the work you have done, it is because it still fades into insignificance next to you; it is you I cannot take my eyes from, and all else is just background to me.”
“Have you been taking lessons in seduction?” she said, pushing him away slightly, but smiling to let him know that he had not quite overstepped the boundaries of acceptable public affection.
“I have been watching Captain Everard,” he replied.
They both turned to scan the crowds but there was no sight of him. “I last saw him escorting Lady Agnes towards the food,” Adelia said.
“Your matchmaking skills are unparalleled. Now, to return to Oscar Brodie. I wanted to get into the gatehouse and while Lady Katharine is at the castle with The Countess, this is a chance – if we can only get Brodie out.”
“How is that possible? We are here in Plymouth.”
“I have been speaking to various people as I had hoped to learn more about the history of Tavy Castle and the Earls of Buckshaw but I have not been successful. So I thought that I might claim to be unwell, and return early – you will be well looked after here, I am sure. I could then create a diversion, perhaps with Percy’s help, to gain access to the gatehouse.”
Adelia stared at him.
“What?” he said at last, wondering what part of the plan was causing her the most difficulty.
“No,” she said, flatly. “How can you even imagine such an idea could work?”
“I don’t see why not. I read a detective story in the Illustrated News the other day and it had a rather clever little trick to get someone out of a house involving coconuts and a bed sheet.”
“Absolutely not! Do not even waste your time describing any of that to me in detail.”
He felt a little punctured but she was right. “Yet I ought to go back just in case...”
“In case of?”
“An opportunity?”
She glared at him.
He gave up.
“Grant me one concession, then,” he said at last.
“Yes?”
“Let us leave early.”
“Not too early. I have a duty here.”
“Before midnight?”
“On the dot of midnight.”
He had lost, and he knew it.
Twenty-one
For one glorious night, Adelia had managed to put aside all her cares and worries. She trusted that Felicia would be safe at Tavy Castle and she was delighted to see Lady Agnes and Captain Everard getting on so well together. Mrs Carstairs was beside herself with joy at how well their planning and preparation had come together. All the last minute hitches – the dodgy prawns, the cornet-player with a sudden attack of hives, the inexplicable loss of a case of specially-ordered champagne flutes – all these did not matter, in the end. The rain cleared away, the band played, the guests arrived, and wine flowed like a river.
Hardly anyone was sick over the side of the boat and most importantly of all, no one drowned. Two excitable young men were fished out of the harbour after some ill-advised drinking games in the early hours of the morning, according to a note that Adelia received from Mrs Carstairs on Saturday afternoon, but apart from that, the event had been hailed as a great success. And much money had been raised for the local seaman’s mission, which had been a last-minute suggestion from Adelia. Everyone was very happy.
And they had returned to Tavy Castle to find that nothing had happened in their absence, either. Adelia had to confess to feeling a rising tension as the carriage had brought them back through the chilly night air but they slipped into the castle and were greeted by a smiling policeman who assured them that all was well. Adelia was as quiet as possible as she slipped into her small truckle bed after glancing over at Felicia’s sleeping form.
They missed breakfast the next morning, of course. Many of the partygoers who had made a long night of it would actually be partaking of a post-dance breakfast on the ship itself, but Adelia’s all-night events were a thing of her memory now. She woke up very late and was delighted to see that Felicia was dressed, and sitting by the window, waiting for her mother to wake up.
“Tell me everything, mama!”
Felicia’s face glowed with happiness as she listened attentively. Adelia spent a long hour talking with her before excusing herself. It was now the early afternoon, and she was pleased to find Doctor Netherfield quietly reading in an adjoining room.
“She’s better, isn’t she?” Adelia said, sitting down.
“She is. Far be it from me to do myself out of a job, but I agree with you. She is so much improved, though the same cannot be said of her husband.” He spoke in a low and confidential manner.
“Whatever do you mean? Is he ill?”
“He is restless, ill at ease, and as far as I can tell – from listening to the rumours and gossip – he is in danger, is he not? An attempt has been made on his life. Surely the perpetrator will not stop now?”
“I agree but he seems either oblivious to it, or almost welcomes it.”
“He is a man who is only alive when he is at risk, this is true. We all have a different emotion that drives us. He is very interesting to me but he won’t talk.” Doctor Netherfield sighed and chuckled. “I could write a paper on the man, if he would but consent to it. Alas; the most interesting subjects are the ones who resist.”
“Do you think he knows who wants him dead?”
“I doubt it. He is a man of action, albeit curious actions, and if he knew for sure, I think he would not hesitate in hunting the killer down. But he is strung out like a rope between two poles. One pole consists of ennui and passive acceptance, and the other is fearsome action. He wavers and oscillates, never still, never steady, on the one hand waiting for the killer to strike again and on the other, vowing revenge at every turn. This means that he ultimately accomplishes nothing. For ennui will always win out. It is paralyzing.”
“While you have listened to gossip and rumour, have you heard anything useful?”
“No though I am curious about this young man who I have never seen, but who I am told lives in the gatehouse...”
“Oscar Brodie.” It was Adelia’s turn to drop her voice very low, and she shifted in her chair, bringing it closer to the doctor. “That man is Theodore’s prime suspect but we don’t know why he might have done it. We think he killed the house steward, too.”
“I should like to meet him. Perhaps I can offer some insight.”
“Talk a walk past the gatehouse and look about yourself very carefully. He is almost always lingering in a bush or behind a wall.”
“How very fascinating. I certainly shall.”
There came a light rap on the door, and Theodore entered, carrying the letter for Adelia from Mrs Carstairs. He remained in the room while she read it, and she smiled at Mrs Carstairs’ effusive praise for all her help – and her descriptions of the inebriated and not-quite-drowned young men.
She read that little section out to Theodore and Doctor Netherfield, who laughed heartily. It prompted Doctor Netherfield to launch into a long recount of a time he was an undergraduate and had somehow, for some reason not fully explained, purloined one of the long racing boats used in the University boat race and along with a group of disreputable friends, attempted to row themselves out through central London, with the eventual aim of getting to France “for the better wine.” He was just describing the faces of the policemen who apprehended them at Tower Bridge when a policeman appeared, without knocking, in the door to the room.
He was not laughing.
Adelia jumped to her feet, and Theodore was at her side instantly. Doctor Netherfield rose more slowly. She could feel her heart already accelerating. “What is
it? What has happened? Oh, please God, not another death!”
“No. We are here to prevent any further calamities of that nature. We are here to arrest Felicia, Lady Buckshaw.”
EVERYTHING MOVED VERY quickly and Adelia was powerless to prevent it. Suddenly there were policemen swarming in, and someone was screaming, and Percy was shouting, and even Doctor Netherfield contributed to the noise, his voice rising higher and louder in an effort to make himself heard.
But Inspector Wilbred didn’t care about any of their protests.
He stood in the middle of the great hall, dressed in a dark navy blue suit that was shiny at the cuffs and elbows and along the edges of his lapels. His hands were shoved in his pockets which made his square coat tails flap backwards and his sleeves ruffle up in a concertina along his arms. The double doors were open and they could see a black coach waiting on the gravel outside. Inspector Wilbred was flanked by two serious-looking policemen, and he could not hide a slight smile on his face as he saw Adelia appear along with Theodore and Doctor Netherfield. Percy had just been shouting at Inspector Wilbred. As Adelia and the others entered, he was turning around and heading to the stairs, but Felicia was already coming down them.
And not of her own free will.
She was in the grip of a matron from the police station, one of the solid and terrifying civilian women who were employed by the force for female-related duties, and a further policeman had hold of her other arm. She was being half-dragged, half-carried down the stairs. Percy stopped, and spun around to face the Inspector.
“How dare you?” he hollered. “Let go of her this minute!”
“I am only doing my job,” the Inspector replied in an infuriatingly mild tone.
