[Lord and Lady Calaway 03] - A Murderous Inheritance

by Issy Brooke

  “She might be, or she might have other reasons to allow people to believe so.”

  “There you go again with this slander...”

  “Hush,” said Doctor Netherfield. Percy fell quiet.

  “Now, we need to link Brodie to this mystery of the past. What does he know? What has he found out? Did the house steward know something and was Brodie involved? Something has tied them together and I believe that it led to the steward’s death.”

  “Hartley Knight was an intensely loyal servant to this family and I do not doubt him in any way. His death was a tragic loss to us.” Percy spoke with utter conviction.

  “I have no reason to object to that reasoning,” Theodore said. “It could be that Knight knew of something from the past and that he died protecting that knowledge. Thus piqued, Brodie might have set out to discover more.”

  “But why would that lead him to kill my valet?” Percy said. “Or, if you are correct, to think that he was killing me? Why would Brodie want me dead?”

  Theodore did not like voicing his next suspicion but it was necessary, though thoroughly distasteful. He said, reluctantly, “You said that Brodie’s manner has changed with you. He is less keen to follow you, less apparently fawning. You have fallen from favour, I am afraid. And that means that you too must be disposed of. There may be more to it, of course. But I feel this is the heart of it.”

  It was still too spurious, too light, too disconnected, too much a thing of conjecture and supposition.

  But it was all they had.

  Each man fell into silent contemplation, and the coffee was drunk, and the bottles of spirits opened, and every possible angle was explored over and over again. Percy had to restrained, time and again, from leaping up and dragging Oscar Brodie into the room to account for his actions. Theodore was prevented, on more than one occasion, from insisting that The Countess be asked to talk to them all.

  But it kept them all busy and occupied and distracted from the most awful thing that was happening – that poor Felicia, Lady Buckshaw, was facing investigation as a double murderess and though she’d escape the noose on grounds of insanity, she would never be coming home again.

  Unless they could find the truth.

  Twenty-three

  Theodore had sunk so deeply into his own thoughts he momentarily cried out when he was jerked out of his reverie by Percy’s sudden movement.

  “What?” Theodore said in confusion, automatically fearing the worst. Doctor Netherfield and Captain Everard looked equally startled. Percy was heading towards the door.

  “I can’t stand this,” Percy blurted out. “You’ve pointed the finger at Oscar Brodie, so let’s haul him up here and talk to him, right now. I can see no reason to delay. Yes, yes, I heard everything you said about not prejudicing the enquiry but right now, there is no enquiry. Let the lad have his say, one way or another. It won’t do any harm. And if you’re right,” he added, pointing at Theodore, “then he’s out to get me and I would really rather know the truth. If my life is in danger at the hands of this young idiot, I want him stopped, and I want him stopped now.”

  “No!” they all cried out as one. “Lord Buckshaw – sir – Percy – you must wait.”

  But he was wild-eyed and in despair, anyone could see that. He stood by the door, his state of dress in disarray, his shirt open at the neck and half-untucked at the waist. His skin was greyish but there was a redness in his eyes like he was barely holding in his emotions and they were going to burst out at any moment. “Wait? Wait? For what – for another attempt on my life? For my wife to die in a prison cell? Yes, yes, she’s not in a cell but she’s incarcerated and for how long? She’s not well! How can you all sit here drinking and thinking? I am a man of action and I am Percy Seeley-Wood, of Buckshaw, and I shall damn well sort this matter out.”

  “Then go to Plymouth,” Theodore said desperately. “Go to the house of Commissioner Rhodes and speak directly to him.”

  “And tell him what? To come here and arrest Oscar Brodie?”

  “If you must. Do it officially, do it by the book. Use your influence, Lord Buckshaw.”

  Percy flared his nostrils and wrenched the door open. “Very well!” he said, and stormed out.

  “Should I go after him?” Captain Everard said, standing up. “This could upset everything.”

  “No, there is very little that can be made worse,” Theodore said. “I wanted, above all, to prevent him from alerting Oscar Brodie to our suspicions about him but this can only buy us a little time.”

  “He might already know,” Doctor Netherfield said, gesticulating to the corners of the room. “You said he was a lurker and a lingerer with the unhealthy habit of listening at doors.”

  “In which case, all of this might force his hand.” Theodore sighed heavily. “Well, Percy is gone now, at least for a little while, and that gives us one chance.”

  “To do what?”

  “We must press The Countess to tell us all that she knows. And yes, I hate to do this. It feels unseemly and wrong.”

  “It is in the name of justice,” Captain Everard said, jutting his chin and folding his arms. “It is the right thing to do. I agree with you. Let’s seize the moment.”

  “THERE IS A VISITOR here for you, Lady Calaway,” said the meek and rather-too-young maid, poking her head into the room at Commissioner Rhodes’ house which now doubled as Felicia’s temporary prison. The maid didn’t dare raise her head and she remained staring at the carpet as she spoke. “I have shown her into the parlour, if you would like to see her. I am sorry, but I didn’t know what to say, whether you were at home or here or quite what the situation was.”

  “Indeed. Don’t worry. You have done nothing wrong. What is the guest’s name?” Adelia said, rising stiffly to her feet.

  “Mrs Carstairs, my lady.”

  “Ah. Very good. Thank you. I shall be down directly.”

  The maid shuffled out backwards.

  “Go on,” said the matron. She was not the same woman who had assisted with the arrest of Felicia back at the castle. This woman was twice as old, with a lined face and twinkling eyes. She had been firm but gentle with Felicia, helping her to be calmer and even drink a little light beef stock. Felicia had finally allowed herself to be put to bed, and appeared now to be slumbering. “I shall send for you the moment you might be needed.”

  “Thank you.” Adelia felt that she could trust the matron, and she headed downstairs to find Mrs Carstairs waiting for her in a rather severe and plain parlour. Commissioner Rhodes, a lifelong bachelor, had paid little heed to the changing tastes and fashions of interior decoration. He clearly spent most of his time at work or dining at his club, or visiting friends whose houses could offer more home comforts than his own provided.

  Mrs Carstairs herself was paying no heed to the air of faded austere monastery that she was surrounded by. She rushed forward and grabbed Adelia’s hands in her own gloved fingers, and poured out a stream of sympathetic phrases which could have sounded fake and forced, but were utterly genuine. She concluded with, “Is it all true?”

  “It is. Felicia is upstairs, asleep, and awaiting...” Adelia’s voice broke. She cleared her throat and finished croakily. “Awaiting trial, I believe.”

  “No. It cannot be. It must not be! I shall rally my troops. We shall raise funds. Have dinners. A whist drive, perhaps? I shall speak certain words in the ears of men with power. This cannot happen to her. I thought that she was doing better lately?”

  “Yes, we had seen an improvement ever since Doctor Netherfield came. She moved into my rooms and we have had – oh, Mrs Carstairs!” Adelia fought for breath as realisation dawned.

  “What is it?”

  “She is not better since the doctor came.”

  “But you just said...”

  “No!” said Adelia in a whirl. “She was better when she moved out of her old room!” It all came back to her in a flood and it was so obvious, so painfully obvious, that she felt sick. “I have to retur
n to Tavy Castle at once.”

  “But my dear, whatever can you mean?”

  “Lord Buckshaw is in more danger than anyone has realised!”

  ADELIA DIDN’T PAUSE to grab her things. She had brought a carpet bag of essentials with her and she left it behind. She didn’t even run back upstairs to disturb Felicia. She abandoned all propriety – Mrs Carstairs was a decent woman and she’d understand, once Adelia explained it all to her in the coming days. Instead she simply ran out into the street, dressed in her indoor clothing, hatless and gloveless and with no coat or jacket or shawl. A fair few cab drivers wouldn’t stop at all for her, but she managed to flag one down at last and insist that he take her to Tavy Castle with all speed. He asked for some payment up front and she could have cried. It was all in her bag, back at Commissioner Rhodes’ house. But she swallowed her tears, drew herself up straight, and in her best cut-glass accent, borrowed heavily from spending time with Theodore’s mother, said, “Don’t you know who I am?” And, as he clearly didn’t, she went on to say, “I am Lady Calaway and I am staying with my daughter and son-in-law, Lord Buckshaw, at Tavy Castle, and there is an emergency of life and death – death, you understand! So you may stop staring at my undress and drive with all speed to the castle. Unless you wish the blood of the Earl of Buckshaw to be on your hands?”

  He didn’t understand half of what she was saying, but her manner was enough to put the fear of God into him, and he cracked the whip over his horse’s back before she had quite swung the door closed. They set off and she had barely allowed herself to draw a dozen breaths, or so it felt, before they were rolling into the grounds of Tavy Castle.

  Mrs Rush was at the door, alerted to the cab’s arrival no doubt by the servants at the work in the front of the house, and Adelia called to her as she alighted, asking her to “sort out the payment – give him whatever he asks for – where is my husband?”

  But she didn’t even need to wait for the reply for she knew that Theodore would be upstairs in the central tower, in the makeshift laboratory, and she burst into the middle of the interrogation of The Countess.

  LADY AGNES WAS THERE, too. She was standing behind The Countess’s chair, a deep armchair that had been carried in from another room, and both women looked furious. As soon as Adelia stepped into the room, Lady Agnes began to appeal to her.

  She didn’t even pretend to be polite. “Lady Calaway, at last! Do something about your husband, if you will. This behaviour is intolerable. Have you seen Percy? We cannot be subject to such intimidation.”

  Captain Everard stood a little apart, wincing with discomfort at the turn of events. He was markedly not meeting Lady Agnes’s eye. He said, “I do apologise for all this apparent intrusion. Please don’t consider this an interrogation. We simply wish to understand more about the family’s history.”

  Doctor Netherfield nodded. He was sitting on a stool alongside The Countess, and hunching over, trying to look concerned and caring.

  Theodore was on his feet and pacing around. He was, Adelia realised, completely the wrong person to ask any sorts of sensitive questions, especially when the person being asked was someone as clever, experienced and stubborn as The Countess.

  And when she met his gaze, he nodded ever so slightly in relief. He knew that she would take over.

  Adelia walked around the table so that there was no barrier between her and The Countess. She fixed the older lady with a stare, and saw no hint of confusion or weariness in the woman’s eyes. She was alert, and she was ready.

  It felt to Adelia like a mediaeval jousting tournament. She mentally lowered her helmet, readied her lance, and charged. She addressed The Countess formally. “Lady Buckshaw, everything hinges on what happened in 1828. The lapis lazuli trade collapsed but other things happened, too. We know the family lost all of its money. But it didn’t lose its influence, did it? You were twenty-eight years old when it happened.”

  The Countess hissed. “A woman of breeding does not discuss her age.”

  “A woman of breeding does not let an innocent woman be tried for a crime she has not committed.”

  “Your silly daughter? How do we know she’s innocent? I am not saying she deliberately did anything, and the police themselves don’t believe that. She is a victim too, you know. A victim of her own disordered mind.”

  “It is curious, then, how ordered her mind has become since leaving her rooms here.”

  “It is rather a shock to her, no doubt,” The Countess said. “Of course she will experience a temporary rallying, don’t you think?” She nodded at the doctor. “He will tell you that these things come in cycles, like the phases of the moon.”

  Doctor Netherfield grunted which was neither approval nor disagreement.

  “Her mind is under the influence not of the moon, but of her body,” Adelia went on. She pointed at her husband. “More investigation is needed, but I would strongly suggest that the source of all her malady be found in her bedroom.”

  “Is this a cheap, crude music hall joke?” Lady Agnes put in.

  “Far from it. It is a matter of poisoning. Long, slow, steady poisoning. Not all poisons kill quickly, do they? Some erode the mind and the body. I am afraid I shall have to defer to my husband for more detail in that regard.”

  She could see the shock on Theodore’s face turn to understanding and revelation. He grew agitated with excitement and his pacing increased. He would wear a groove in the floor between the windows and the worktable at this rate.

  The Countess laughed like a rusty hinge. “Poison? By whom? It’s usually the husband but my grandson’s always away and I know you don’t like it, but at least you can’t accuse him of being a murderer. Who else? Me? That’s why I am here, isn’t it? So you can try to hang a woman in her nineties.”

  “I thought we were not discussing age?”

  “Touché.” The Countess twisted her lips and looked as if she were working out a stubborn seed from between her teeth. Eventually she said, “The curse doesn’t date from the 1820s. It’s only loosely based on the collapse of our family’s trade.”

  “Then how and where did the curse start? Why are we talking about it? No one has ever been able to fully explain it to me. It’s a children’s tale, nothing more. It adds something intriguing to talk about your family but it’s meaningless,” Adelia said.

  The Countess snorted. Lady Agnes put her hand on her mother’s shoulders and tried to soothe her. “I started the curse,” The Countess said while Lady Agnes shook her head.

  “Why?” Adelia demanded.

  “Wrong question.”

  “When?” Theodore butted in.

  The Countess smiled in a thin, cruel sort of way. “When Oscar Brodie was born. And it was supposed to put everything right.”

  Twenty-four

  Adelia did some quick mathematics in her head. The young man was in his twenties. She didn’t want to confess that she didn’t understand what The Countess was saying, but she knew that she was missing something.

  Then she got it.

  She was missing something – and so was Oscar.

  “His father!” Adelia said.

  The Countess nodded. She was smiling. It was just a game to her now and Adelia could see that she’d get no more clues from her.

  Adelia said, “I’m not the only matchmaker, am I? But I suspect I am a better one than you.”

  The Countess’s smile faded into a frown. “The match would have been perfect but Jacob Brodie allowed himself to become a weak man, and Katharine did not bring him to heel as she ought to have done. I was paying for our family’s sins and surely, that meant the marriage ought to have gone well and wiped the slate of our family’s sins clean. Yet he ruined it and she didn’t stop him.”

  Oh, the lies we tell ourselves to justify our actions, Adelia thought sourly. With enough time and a bit of creative rethinking, we can remodel our pasts into the strangest shapes just to avoid guilt and regret.

  Captain Everard and Doctor Netherfield were n
ow both hopelessly lost as they did not know all of the details of the family that Adelia and Theodore had worked out. Adelia felt it was time to lay it all out, and by watching The Countess’s reactions, she would be able to judge how close she was to getting to the truth. Captain Everard was struggling in particular, and he said, “But how does this tie in with Brodie? Lady Calaway, I respect you very much but you cannot be suggesting that The Countess has anything to do with the murders that have happened recently? We are asking her for information to unearth the past, but I want to be very clear indeed that we are not laying any blame at her door.”

  Of course, he was a gentleman, and polite, and well-mannered. Adelia had so little respect for The Countess by this point that she’d be half-tempted to turn the woman out of doors in a snowstorm, but she could hardly express that view openly. One had to seem as if one were nice and pleasant, even when one didn’t feel that way at all.

  Adelia said, “Lady Katharine is Percy, Lord Buckshaw’s older sister. When their father died, Percy would have been in his twenties?”

  The Countess remained impassive now, giving no hint. Lady Agnes nodded. Reluctantly, she said, “Yes. My dear brother – Percy and Katharine’s father – died young and Percy was only twenty years old. Katharine was older but unmarried. I don’t think that Percy really knew about the family history and he didn’t know about the rise and fall of the family fortunes.”

  “That’s right, he did not know. I took care to shield him from it all. I thought it was unfair that he should inherit the problems that his father had caused. So I set about putting it right,” The Countess said.

  “How?” Captain Everard said.

  “Marriage,” Adelia replied, watching The Countess. “You married Lady Katharine off to a commoner, a man with no title, and with no actual money either – Jacob Brodie.”

  The Countess blinked slowly. Lady Agnes nodded.