by Issy Brooke
But Adelia was already too far away to reply.
THEODORE AND DOCTOR Netherfield lingered at the edge of a stand of willows. Doctor Netherfield sniffed the air and grimaced. “One does become so used to it, you know, the smell, and then all of a sudden it come over in a strong wave and one wonders how on earth one missed it before.”
“Quite so. Such a phenomenon interests me greatly,” Theodore replied. “I can only suppose that particles of the odour somehow clog up in one’s nose.”
“But why these particular particles, and not others?”
“The shape, I imagine. But they are too small to see under any magnifying equipment that I have used.”
“Yes. Since Abbe’s introduction of the rather splendid light-gathering paraphernalia, nothing new has really been brought about, and that surprises me. Unless you have kept more abreast of developments? No? What a shame. So we find that we are somewhat stuck. Yet...”
On they talked, explaining things to one another that each already knew. Theodore was happily absorbed in the scientific chatter. Somewhere in the bushes, he could hear the others crashing about. Captain Everard and Percy were engaged with Oscar on some kind of mission to rig up hidden traps which sounded likely to end in disaster, if not for themselves then for the next unwary walker to happen along the paths in the grounds.
Still, it was keeping Oscar busy, and that was the main thing. Theodore spared a thought for his wife, who was apparently going to work out a way of getting them all into the gatehouse to search it. Confound Lady Katharine! She was holding everything up, he felt. He could barely call up a mental image of her face, she was so unassuming and silent and so very, very invisible.
He heard Percy calling to Captain Everard. The captain answered. Then they called for Oscar.
But there was no answer from him.
Twenty-seven
Adelia ran as fast as she could through the twisting corridors of Tavy Castle. It wasn’t the largest place in the country but when you wanted to get from one point to another in a rush, you realised then how awkward a space it was. It had never been designed; it had evolved. She was also hampered by the soft indoor slippers that she was wearing rather than decent boots, and she soon abandoned the Persian shawl she had artfully wrapped around her upper body earlier. She did not have time to stop and explain herself to the servants whom she pushed past. She had to get to the tower.
She burst into the lower room where Percy kept his books and found it empty. When had Oscar taken The Countess? If it were only a few moments before the maid had told Adelia what he had done, then they were sure not to be too far ahead, due to The Countess’s age. She could not move fast.
Adelia grabbed the door at the bottom of the stairs that led to the room above, which was Theodore’s commandeered laboratory space, but it was stuck. Or locked. She rattled the handle with a roar and pulled at it so hard that it opened with a screech and she burst through. The stairs here were made of stone, and wide, but they curved in a gentle spiral around a central stone pillar. She had always hated spiral stairs and so she kept to the outside where a rudimentary handhold was made of rope attached to the wall at intervals by large iron hoops. She hitched up her skirts in her right hand, and kept her left on the rope handhold. The stairs, as was usual in old castles, curved in a clockwise fashion, which was supposed to make it harder for invaders to draw their swords as they came up from below.
Adelia wished she was carrying a sword right now.
She could hear them. And she was hardly being stealthy now, so there was no reason for her to stay silent. She shouted out, “Stop! Oscar Brodie, you stop right where you are!”
She heard The Countess say something but her high reedy voice was indistinct as it bounced off the stone walls. Oscar grunted like an animal. Adelia ran up another half dozen steps and it was a miracle that she was still hanging onto the rope handhold at the side, because she only had a split second’s notice that something was coming down before it was upon her.
It?
Her.
The Countess slid down from three steps above, screaming in absolute terror as she flailed her arms to steady herself. Adelia hung on with her left hand, and reached out with her right. She didn’t so much catch The Countess as simply become a barrier which broke her descent. Adelia’s right foot slipped as it was on the narrower part of the spiral stairs but she kept firm where she was, and deflected The Countess who came to a halt up between the outer wall and Adelia’s own body.
The Countess was crying in shock. Her thin hands clawed at the rope and Adelia’s dress. “He pushed me! It wasn’t an accident! He pushed me.”
“I know, I know, and I’m here to help you.”
“Help me? Don’t worry about me! Stop him!”
“Let me get you back down.”
“I cannot...” The Countess gasped, her face twisting in pain as she leaned on Adelia and tried to stand on her own feet. “Oh! Oh, my!” Adelia wrapped her strong arm around the older woman’s waist, and supported her. The Countess felt like a bird and trembled throughout her whole body.
There was nothing for it but to inch down the steps, step by step, allowed The Countess plenty of time to stop and rest until they had finally gained entry to the laboratory once more, and The Countess was able to sink into the armchair that still remained there from her visit the previous day.
“I am fine, I am perfectly fine,” The Countess snapped, though her face was twisted with pain. “Now go and see to that evil young man, that snake in the very heart of our family! Betrayed! I cannot believe it. When did he turn? When?”
Adelia realised that of course, Oscar would still be above them as there was only one set of stairs in the tower. And she was suddenly afraid. The Countess needed to remain where she was, at least for a little while, to get her breath back. Surely the woman had sustained injuries in her short fall, especially at her age, when bones were more likely to break. Adelia did not want to move her again until Doctor Netherfield or Theodore had attended to her.
But if The Countess could not move, then they were both trapped in the laboratory. Adelia could not leave The Countess alone with the risk of Oscar coming down this way. She went to the door to the main part of the castle and opened it. She began to shout for help at the very top of her voice, abandoning any decorum or dignity.
The Countess cried out. Adelia did not have time to move before she was shoved hard in the back by two strong hands tumbling her out into the corridor. She fell to her knees as Oscar ran past her, and she took a moment to catch her breath and get up. Servants were running up to her, and she began to scream and point, “Follow him!”
Most of them followed her direction, but one pale maid dithered in fear and as soon as Adelia was back on her feet, she said to that maid, “Come with me! The Countess needs us.”
“My lady.”
They ran back into the laboratory. “Are you hurt? What did he do?” Adelia cried out.
“He ran past me.”
“Yes but did he do anything as he went?”
“No, of course not.” The Countess looked at Adelia like she had said the stupidest thing.
“But you cried out.”
“I was warning you. Did you stop him?”
Adelia snapped. “Would I be standing here like this if I had? I have sent the servants after him.”
“And a bunch of moon-faced donkeys they are, too. So we’ve lost the man, after all this.”
Adelia nearly dismissed the quivering maid at her side. If they were such moon-faced donkeys, The Countess wouldn’t want their assistance now, would she? But Adelia sighed, and swallowed her indignation, much as Lady Agnes must have been doing for many long years. The Countess was an old lady and in a great deal of pain.
Still, she could wait a little longer for help, Adelia thought nastily. She was not about to die. She crossed the room and went to each window of the circular tower in turn, trying to see if the men outside had been alerted by Mrs Carstairs yet.
Adelia wrestled with the rusted catch of the leaded windows and finally flung the casement open. She leaned out and tried to call to them, but she was too far up and she could only watch helplessly as events unfolded on the ground below.
A lean, lithe male figure in a dark suit sprinted from the castle and she knew it was Oscar even without seeing his face because he wasn’t dressed as a servant and he was the youngest, fittest man in the place. Nor was he the policeman, who must surely have been alerted to the palaver and must even now be running to help. Oscar was heading across the lawn by the shortest way, and going into the stand of bushes around the ice house. She caught glimpses of him then as he made his way towards the humped structure.
She thought that he went inside it.
She leaned out of the window as far as she was able to, and spotted Mrs Carstairs coming from the right. Mrs Carstairs must have come out of the front door, and something caught her attention about a hundred yards to one side of the ice house. She hurried that way, and dotted in and out of sight as she wove between the hedges and shrubs of the gardens. Adelia could hear voices on the breeze, and see arms waving in amongst the greenery, and then there were more running, more suited figures, all tweedy and well-disguised in the undergrowth, heading towards the ice house at last.
The ice house exploded.
She felt it rather than saw it, closing her eyes for a long second before daring to open them.
Adelia screamed and she heard, through her cries, The Countess behind her, demanding to know what was going on in her high and querulous voice. Adelia didn’t even turn around. She stretched out, gripping the window frame, trying to see what was happening, and praying: Don’t let Oscar Brodie be dead, the little cheating murdering coward – he has to pay for what he’s done!
She was unsure as to the properly Christian stance on the matter, but she’d deal with that later. Her feelings were tending rather more to the eye-for-an-eye stuff than the turn-the-other-cheek at this particular moment.
Flames danced in amongst the greenery, snapping and popping as the long dry summer had made kindling of the sticks on the ground, in spite of the recent rain. Every few seconds, a louder and more booming explosion sounded from the depths of the ice house, or at least, where it used to be. As the flames shifted, she could see jutting black structures and the edges of the walls where the roof had been.
Then a strange shape emerged from the undergrowth around the ice house. It was as tall as a man, but just as wide as a man’s height, with extra limbs. Through her unexpected tears, she blinked, and realised it was one man carrying another. Then the man who was bearing the other man stopped and wavered, and as he collapsed, everyone else – the servants, the other men, Mrs Carstairs and the policeman – surged forward to surround them both, and everything was lost to Adelia’s view.
Twenty-eight
The acrid smell scorched the back of Theodore’s throat as he leaped forward. He was not in time to catch Captain Everard as he fell, and the limp body of Oscar Brodie tumbled to the ground.
“Get back – get everyone back!” Theodore cried. “This air is poisonous, and soon they will be overcome! Go back to the house!”
But no one moved until Theodore whirled around and pointed to each person in turn, making eye contact. “You – you! Take the person next to you and get back to the house now. You! Take him, and go. Now you!” As the first few stepped away, the rest followed.
Theodore fell to his knees and searched Brodie’s neck for a pulse. The young man was limp and insensible, but he was alive. Captain Everard was on all fours, coughing and vomiting. And that was a good sign, because he too was clearly alive.
Though not unharmed.
Doctor Netherfield and Percy came up swiftly and working as a seamless team, they grabbed Brodie by the legs and arms, with the younger, stronger Percy taking the heavier head end. They hauled him away from the noxious fumes surrounding the smouldering ice house. The policeman on duty was a sensible one, and did not waste time in questioning what had happened. He bent and shoved his hand under Captain Everard’s arm, dragging him up to his feet. Theodore went to the captain’s other side and they all shuffled away, stumbling slowly, following Percy and Doctor Netherfield into the castle. As they approached, they heard the clang-thump-click of all the windows and doors being closed to prevent the gases from the ice house getting in. They scooted quickly through the double doors of the garden room and along the corridor.
Oscar Brodie was laid out on a rug on the floor of the great hall. The policeman let go of Captain Everard, who sagged against Theodore and groped his way to a wooden chair, gasping. The policeman strode over to Brodie, and said, “Is he alive?”
“Yes,” said Doctor Netherfield. “Though I do not know if he will survive, or if the damage is too great. Call your inspector immediately, and any other persons of authority, for you have a double-murderer here and you will want to see justice done before he expires.”
“A triple murderer!” announced a high voice, and everyone turned to see The Countess inching her way into the room on the arm of Adelia.
“Who else?” Theodore demanded, frozen in shock. The Countess looked dreadful, her face ashen-white and she was wincing with every step.
“Me!”
“You’re not dead,” Theodore said.
“I might as well be! He tried,” she insisted, nodding at the prone figure. “It is only my superior constitution and strength which has saved me.”
Adelia sniffed. “And the fact that I caught you as you fell down the stairs.”
“I did not fall. I was pushed! And you didn’t catch me. I hit you. And I want it on record that he attempted to kill me.”
“Very well, though the man can only be hanged once.”
“Oh, I am sure there are ways,” The Countess muttered darkly. “Why has no one offered me a seat? Has everyone’s manners blown up with the ice house?”
Theodore was rather surprised to see how roughly his wife pushed The Countess onto a nearby wooden seat, where the old lady began complaining about the lack of cushions. Eventually a housemaid peeled away from the others and began to attend to her.
A fresh commotion at the main doors took his attention for a moment but it was not the arrival of Inspector Wilbred – of course, the man would not have yet even heard of the events at Tavy Castle. Instead, it was Lady Katharine, entering on the arm of Lady Agnes who must have rushed to the gatehouse to speak to her.
Lady Katharine pushed Lady Agnes away, and ran to where her son lay on the floor, shoving the doctor to one side as she bent over his body and began to make such a long, low, ethereal keening sound that all the hairs stood up on Theodore’s neck and he was reminded, once again, just how blessed he was that all his children had survived into adulthood.
Even if one of them was still languishing under lock and key, perhaps still half-mad yet and awaiting trial for two crimes that she had not committed.
THERE WAS SO MUCH HAPPENING that Adelia had to step back for a moment and take in a deep breath to steady her senses. The main thing was that no one appeared to be dead although Oscar Brodie was not in a good way. Theodore was unharmed and Captain Everard appeared to be very much the hero of the moment. Lady Agnes was standing protectively close to him. Percy hovered by Oscar, poised as if he were about to strike the young man down if he dared to move. The Countess was ignored and put to one side, much to her disgust and Adelia’s secret delight.
Adelia could see that Theodore and Doctor Netherfield would do their best with Oscar and with Captain Everard. The most useful thing that Adelia could do, she reasoned, was to bring calm to the chaos all around so that the professionals could go about their business. The servants had been kicked into action by Mrs Rush who really was a marvel in an emergency, and one of the liveried men had already left on a fast horse bound for Plymouth.
Adelia went to Lady Katharine’s side and put her arm around the distraught mo
ther’s shoulders. She said, firmly but not unkindly, “Come with me. We must let them do their work.”
Lady Katharine did not resist. Adelia managed to lead her away to a parlour on the first floor, at the front of the house, from where they could see the main driveway that led to the gates. They sank onto a wide couch that was angled in one of the alcoves by the windows. Lady Katharine leaned forward, curling around herself, shaking and weeping.
“What is going on?” she asked, over and over. “What has happened to my boy?”
“I imagine that his schemes have blown up in his face,” Adelia replied. “I mean that in all senses of possible interpretation. Oh, Lady Katharine, I am so sorry. But I am hopeful that the doctor can help him.” She didn’t want to promise that he would survive.
“What schemes? What are you talking about? Has someone tried to kill him? There is a murderer on the loose.” It was the most that Lady Katharine had ever said in one go.
Adelia realised, with deep distress, that Lady Katharine had absolutely no idea what her son had been doing. It was also a relief to her that the lady was entirely innocent. But now it fell to Adelia to reveal everything to Lady Katharine, and she felt almost dizzy from the enormity of the task. How did one tell a mother that her son was a monster?
She started in a low and gentle voice. “I am going to share some discoveries with you now that will be shocking. I do not expect you to believe them or understand them at first. This might take some time to sink in. But I am so very, very sorry to have to tell you this. Your son is not who you think he is.”
“He is my son!”
“Oh, yes, he is your son, of course. But he is a man, and men get to choose who and what they might be. Oscar has chosen a dark path to walk...” Was it his choice, Adelia wondered, tailing off for a moment. Anyone who has done what he has done must be mad, surely? And in which case, he would deserve only sympathy.
She kept meaning to ask some learned clergyman what the true nature of evil was, and she also found herself avoiding the question when she did get the chance. What if she didn’t like the answer?
