by Issy Brooke
Dido, Felicia and Charlotte were more traditional, in their own ways. Dido was a strong mother, and a wronged woman, showing great fortitude in the face of such storms. Felicia had abandoned herself to be her husband’s helpmeet, and as he was an explorer, this meant accompanying him on some exciting travels. It was unclear if now she’d stay at Tavy Castle with her new-born son. Charlotte was simply a society lady, mixing in Bohemian circles and scandalising the more moderate members of her family. But that was what such beautiful young women did – in a sense, her choices were as traditional as Dido’s.
And now here was Anne, a wordsmith in the long tradition of female writers that went back to Aphra Behn and Margaret Cavendish herself, though rather less public than those esteemed writers. Now that Theodore had come around to Bamfylde’s secret identity, and how his own wife had to hide her investigative role, he was more than willing to embrace this new secret of Anne’s.
He went to sleep with a smile on his face.
The next morning, he said to Adelia, “Dear heart, we must take this investigation more seriously. I am very interested in the connections that have been mentioned between Edwin Calcraft and Walter Spenning. Some have mentioned a business, and others a charity. Which is it? Or both? And what business, what charity? We must find out. Will you come with me as I pay a call upon him?”
“I thought we were going to allow him some time with his son.”
“He’s had time. He had the whole of yesterday. Anyway, I have an excuse. We saw the fireworks last night and it is only natural that I would want to speak to him about them.”
She rolled her eyes but agreed, and by the middle of the morning, they were on their way to the house of Edwin Calcraft. He had told her what it was like inside, but he knew she was going to be amazed at what she saw and he was right. Mr Calcraft opened the door himself; there was no sign of his portly manservant today. He was dressed, like before, in a strange flowing gown, and he welcomed them both into his home.
She stepped inside and looked around with wide eyes. She cooed and said, quite openly, “Mr Calcraft! This is a house of the most singular taste and I confess this is exactly like being in Hong Kong!”
“Have you been to the island, Lady Calaway?”
“Well, no…”
“Then forgive me when I say that this is, alas, nothing like the place. I would that it were. And Hong Kong Island itself, though it is growing under our stewardship, is still little more than a mess of overgrowing fishing villages compared to some of the sights of the great empire of China itself!”
“And it is about those sights that I was compelled to come and speak to you, if you don’t mind. Last night, I saw fireworks,” Theodore said. “I am sure that they came from your house.”
Mr Calcraft nodded. “They did. I hope they did not startle or alarm you.”
“No, on the contrary, I find the science behind them absolutely fascinating. What chemical compounds have you used for the brilliant red?”
“I admit that I have no idea. I simply buy them already made up from knowledgeable people. However…” Calcraft fidgeted. He was dressed as outlandishly as before, and pushed his hands into his wide sleeves as he sought for the right words. “You know, I am glad that you have come here today.”
“Do you have something to tell us?” Theodore asked.
“Yes. I do. Well, here it is. Lord Calaway, I really ought to thank you for being the prompt that, alongside certain other … impulses … but really it was you, mainly you, who made me re-examine my own fatherhood. My own responsibilities as a father, I should say. When you visited here with your son, I was struck by … the situation. It was not unlike my own. I know you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’d like to explain in full. And so … if you could wait here just a moment…”
His confusion of words stumbled to a halt. Then, without another word, he dashed off.
Theodore started at Adelia, and she leaned in close to him to whisper, “And it is supposed to be my job to build bridges! Well done!”
He nudged her and grinned, carefully trying to appear suddenly serious as Calcraft reappeared with a good-looking man in his early thirties alongside.
“May I present to you my son, Mr Archibald Calcraft.”
The younger man flared his nostrils and muttered, “Captain Calcraft, actually,” but then he wiped the annoyance from his face and smiled pleasantly at them both, bowing low to Adelia and greeting Theodore with a firm handshake as the rest of the introductions were made. He nodded in particular at Adelia, recognising her from the unfortunate meeting in the street from a few days’ previously.
“As I was saying,” Calcraft senior went on, “This reconciliation with my dear son is entirely down to you and your example, Lord Calaway. There comes a time in a man’s life when one has to put one’s house in order.”
“Oh, sir, you are not old,” said Theodore cheerfully.
“I feel it,” Edwin Calcraft said. His gaze roamed around the hallway, alighting on the collected artefacts of a long life. “I feel as if I have lived so many lives. It is time … indeed, I have information, one might say, about my life. I know that…”
“No!” cried the younger man. “Father, do not speak so fatalistically.”
“Realistically. But you are young and don’t feel time passing in the way that we older folk do,” Edwin Calcraft replied stoically. “Everything simply speeds up. It concentrates the mind somewhat. Makes one … forces one … well, one is aware of what one must do, in the limited time that is left to one, you see.”
There was an awkward pause. Theodore couldn’t think what to say to that, and even his usually reliable wife seemed to be struggling.
Theodore decided he could make use of the difficult topic of conversation. “It always does a man great credit when he is able to look back over past wrongs, and has the courage to face them and to make the right again. Which leads me to think about Walter Spenning…”
Archibald Calcraft grimaced, but his father kept his face blank. “You were asking about him before. I suppose you’re investigating. Detective, of a sort, aren’t you?”
“We are, yes.”
“Who’s paying you to do this?”
“No one.”
“Dilettantes.”
“Perhaps you can call us that,” Theodore said, hoping that it made them seem to be less threatening. “We are interested. It may come to nothing. But there was a link between the deceased and yourself; we know that. We know that you were, in fact, closely linked in business at one time.”
“I think I told you that myself,” he replied tersely. “If I did not, it was an oversight. I have no secrets. It was a brief connection. Spenning did not … share.”
“Indeed. So I wonder if you might explain in more detail what led to the rift in the business dealings? Were you involved in business, or together on the board of a charity?”
“It was all so long ago. Years before his death so I don’t think it is remotely relevant to the muck you’re trying to rake up now. There was a … business. A charitable business. But simply put, we had very different ideas of the future of the business we were engaged in – never formally, as a company, I might add. We merely … aligned, for a short time. But we had conflicting ideas on what a worthwhile life meant and how one ought to spend it…”
His hands withdrew from his sleeves. He looked around the room and his eyes alighted on the long box that Theodore had seen before. Like that previous time, Calcraft seemed to be drawn to it, walking over and reaching out as if he were in a trance.
Was he an opium-eater, Theodore wondered in a flash. Was that his hoard of poppy-drugs?
There was very little chance of Theodore being able to ask that sort of question.
Archibald coughed but his father was now in his own world, oblivious to the guests. He walked away from them all, and ignored everyone’s words.
It was clear he was not going to engage with them again. In some embarrassment, Archibald gestured t
o Theodore and Adelia. He led them to the main doors. Once they were out on the steps, the young officer came close and spoke in a low voice.
“I don’t know anything about the rift between my father and Spenning,” he said. “But as for my father and how he relates to me, that’s a different matter.”
Adelia must have sensed an invitation to ask, because she said, “We are, of course, delighted that you seem to be mending the relationship. Do you think this is the start of a true reconciliation? Might we even see you together in public? If my daughter held a dinner party, would you both come?”
“I do not know. It’s all been so very sudden. I could scarcely believe it when I received the telegram urging me to return immediately. In truth, I thought the very worst had happened. I am glad to find my father is … well.”
“You hesitate. Is he truly well? I am a doctor,” Theodore added, as if that would help. For anyone who knew of his medical prowess, the thought was actually terrifying.
“He is different, now, to how I knew him, but I last saw him so many years ago. It was when I took up my commission, as it happens.”
“Your commission?” Adelia said. And Theodore was intrigued. He had assumed that the cause of the rift would have occurred around the jilting of Emily Johnson, and Archie’s arrest. But his commission would have happened before the marriage.
“Yes. He was furious.”
“That you had taken on a military life?”
“Yes,” Archie Calcraft replied, almost testily. “He hated his time in the army and when I followed in his footsteps, he was almost apoplectic. I feared for his heart. He raged at me and threw me out, swearing that I could never come back if I betrayed him and all that he stood for in such a manner.”
“Goodness. Why did he hate the military so much?”
“I always understood that he joined under duress, but there was no other real option for him. And he was good at what he did, and was soon trapped in it. After a certain number of years, one does begin to wonder what else one could really do, if not soldiering, you know? He was too scared to leave a comfortable job. Doesn’t that happen to everyone? And I think he nursed his hate over the years and made it become something much larger and more irrational than it deserved.”
“Is he prone to irrationality?” Theodore asked. “Fits of rage, that sort of thing?”
“Could he have killed Spenning, you mean,” Archibald Calcraft said with a sigh. “He could have, but if he wanted to, why would he not simply shoot him? He was a soldier. And this death business, this death of Spenning, it happened a year or two ago – I read all about it – why would my father do it then? I know nothing of their business save that it was many years ago. I understand they’d had no contact since then.”
“Then who did kill him?”
The younger Calcraft shrugged. “I wasn’t here and I simply don’t know. It could have been an accident, as they now believe.”
“What of Florence Spenning?”
“His widow? I know nothing of her at all.”
“But there is one woman you do know something of,” Adelia said sharply. “Miss Emily Johnson.”
He went pale. He stumbled over his words. “I was meaning to ask … though didn’t dare … how is the good lady after yesterday’s events? Please tell me that she is recovered.”
“She is tolerably well,” Adelia said. “What lay behind her reaction? What did you say or do to her?”
Her fierce tone was one used by generations of mothers on their recalcitrant children and it had an impressively cowing effect on Archibald, who seemed to hunch his shoulders and curl in on himself. He said, “Forgive me, Lady Calaway, but I cannot speak of it. I will not compromise her or hurt her any more than I have already done. However, I feel duty bound to make amends, if at all possible.”
“Amends?”
“Yes. Might I … might I call upon her, do you think?”
Theodore said “Yes” at the same time that Adelia said “Absolutely not.”
There was no time for a consensus. Edwin Calcraft called out from inside, and his son, with an apologetic nod to them both, disappeared.
7
At last, Adelia and Anne managed to evade Emily and get out of the house to pay a call upon the widow Florence Spenning. Anne fretted a little as they walked through the village. She did not think they would be received “in the appropriate manner” but found herself unable to explain herself to Adelia.
“I just mean, well, she’s always … unexpected. I don’t mean impolite, really, except that it’s the rules of politeness that mean there is never anything unexpected in a conversation, do you see?” Anne said. “If everyone behaves just as one ought to behave, then nothing is out of the ordinary and everything runs along quite nicely. But with her, it is as if she doesn’t know, or doesn’t care for the rules.”
“Many people not born to the class into which they marry experience these same problems,” Adelia said, remembering her own challenges even moving from the upper middle class into the aristocracy when she married Theodore. “I am sure she will have read some useful manuals. I certainly did. If she has not, her husband has greatly wronged her.”
“If that’s the worst wrong he ever did to her, she would have been lucky,” Anne replied. “Here we are. Let us brace ourselves.”
“Let us smile and be pleasant,” Adelia said, striking the door knocker with some force.
An ancient woman finally answered the door. She was dressed entirely in black which had faded to grey in odd patches as if the dress had been left for many weeks in a sunny window. She glared at them and did not speak.
“We should like to see Mrs Spenning,” Anne said. “Please inform her that Lady Blaisdell-Smith is here, with her mother, the Countess of Calaway.”
Adelia wondered what the addition of her rank would do. It had absolutely no effect on the relic who had opened the door to them, and they were in fact left outside on the step to wait.
Impolite, indeed.
But perhaps the announcement of a countess did something for Florence Spenning, because she came down to them five minutes later. She greeted them with a chilly air and nodded in recognition at Adelia.
So, Adelia thought, she knows exactly who I am, and no doubt why I am here to see her now.
They were taken into a parlour which could have doubled as an ice-house in its frosty ambiance. There was dust on every surface, and there were plenty of bare surfaces, with few adornments that were usually common to these rooms. No carriage clock, no china ornaments, no pictures or plates on the walls, and not even an antimacassar or cushion on the lumpy chairs by the dead fireplace.
Of course, old man Spenning had been a miser. Adelia wondered if the whole house was as Spartan as this room. What a dreadful way to live.
Mrs Spenning stood by the fireplace and did not invite them to sit down. “I apologise for the lack of comfort,” she said in a tone that held absolutely no apology. “I do not often receive visitors.”
“Mourning, I suppose, has made things difficult. I am sure that in time…”
Adelia was cut off. Mrs Spenning said, sharply, “No. It’s simply that I don’t care for visitors.”
“Oh.”
“And the next question you want to ask me is about my late husband.”
“No, Mrs Spenning, I could not be so crass…”
“There is no other reason you’re here. You are bursting with curiosity. Did I kill him? Of course not. Did anyone else kill him? I doubt it. He was old and unsteady. He slipped. Why was he in the boathouse?” She snorted in an inelegant why. “Oh, why did he do anything at all? I have no idea. The man was a mystery to me.”
All Adelia could say was, “I am sorry for your loss.”
“I’m not. But that does not make me guilty. Now, as you can see from my dress, I am going out. I am waiting only for my carriage to be made ready as I have some errands to run. I cannot talk for long.” She glanced towards the window as if the carriage would appear on cue.<
br />
Well, thought Adelia, if Mrs Spenning can speak so rudely and openly, then so can I. She said, “Mrs Spenning, why do you not leave this unhappy place?”
“Unhappy?”
“Yes. There must be so many memories here that trouble you and it is, as you say, not a comfortable house…”
Mrs Spenning looked blank and then almost confused by the question. “If a memory is unhappy,” she said slowly, “then one simply chooses not to remember it. Only a fool would revisit unhappy memories and relive them. There is no need. I should not be troubled by fantasies of the mind in that way. If the past plagues me, then that is because … the carriage is here. I hear the wheels. Good day, Lady Blaisdell-Smith, good day, Lady Calaway. Oh – do send my regards to Miss Johnson.”
She swept out of the room, leaving them quite alone and abandoned.
Adelia had no words for what had just happened. Mrs Spenning’s words on the train, about being left alone, seemed to be different to what she was saying now. Was she lying then, or was she lying now? What, exactly, did she mean?
Anne slid her a sidelong glance, and quirked her mouth. “You see?”
“This is – intolerable!” Adelia said.
She stalked out of the house after Mrs Spenning only to see her swing up into the carriage. It took off at a rapid pace, squeezing through the trees that lined the dark track closely. They could not follow on foot at that speed.
“Well,” said Anne, joining Adelia on the top step, “she was actually a little more open and pleasant than I had expected her to be, so that is good. She must be lying about the past memories thing. It didn’t sound true at all. It sounded more as though she were trying to convince herself of that. In a similar way, I have told myself to be happy when I have not been happy; people expect it and are not comfortable when one confesses one’s unhappiness, transient though it may be. She was covering some deeper feeling.”