by Issy Brooke
“What of the will?” Theodore asked. “What do you think about that?”
“It’s the key, isn’t it?” Archie said. “No, that’s wrong. I am the key, aren’t I? It’s all about me, in the end.” He snorted. “Except, of course, right now it is not about me at all. It’s about my father and what he’s planning to do. Because tonight is a special night. Tonight marks one year since Walter Spenning died!”
“Why would your father act now?” Mrs Macauley asked.
Archie turned slowly to look at her. “Because he is like that. He likes patterns. He likes omens. He likes to see meanings in dates, and numbers, and colours, and clouds. He killed Walter Spenning – I am sure of it, and I know that Lord Calaway must agree with me. He killed him a year ago today and he thought everything was going to be all right until…”
“Until we came here,” Theodore said.
“No. Until he came here,” Archie said, and pointed at Bamfylde.
“Me?” he squeaked.
“Yes. You, or rather, what you represented. You were an example of reconciliation. I think my father has other reasons, too, but I don’t know what they are. I can guess. But there’s no time. He has a vast amount of fireworks and he’s sold everything he owns. It all comes to me in the will. These are not the actions of a man who is going travelling, nor of a man who thinks he is ill.”
“Good heavens! No! You can’t mean…” Bernard said, getting to his feet.
“Yes. I do mean it, and I mean the worst. The ladies must prepare themselves. We have no time to waste.”
“Lady Calaway, what on earth are you doing?” Miss Johnson cried in alarm as Adelia stood up with the men. Even Mrs Macauley looked shocked.
“Sit down, dear lady. We cannot possibly go with them,” Mrs Macauley said.
Adelia looked over at Theodore, pleading with her eyes for him to intercede on her behalf. Bernard and Bamfylde had already left the room to grab their outdoor jackets and hats. Theodore was halfway to the door. Anne looked torn, but she remained seated too.
Theodore frowned. “Of course she is coming with me,” he snapped. “She is one half of this partnership. We are both detectives, you realise. Adelia, you might need to change your boots – although there is no doubt that Smith already knows exactly what you need, the witch that she is.”
Adelia shot out of the room and tried to ignore the stares and whispers behind her. Sometimes she forgot how shocking it was that she was indulging in such scrapes.
Not that such scrapes were entirely unheard of. Lower class women could do as they liked, and there were a significant handful of upper class women who trekked solo around Africa or kayaked up the Amazon, if by “solo” you meant “accompanied by a retinue of servants and armed men.” But it was always the middle classes who were shocked by such transgressive actions as these. Mrs Macauley was as middle class as it was possible to be, and Miss Johnson had to cling to social propriety all the harder because of her precarious position on the edges of society.
And Anne had a small child who relied upon her. She couldn’t possibly risk her life in a mad chase to the house of a murderer. A house that was almost certainly stuffed with fireworks.
But Adelia was free from all those conventions and responsibilities, and she was grinning as she burst into her room to meet Smith who had, indeed, already laid out a good sturdy cloak and some solid boots for her.
“Isn’t it marvellous to be old?” she said as Smith knelt down to lace up her boots.
“No, my lady. My knees hurt and my chest is tight and I am struggling to see the dark laces against the boots. Old age is for the rich.”
That shut Adelia up and she felt a little shamed. She couldn’t bend over to tie her own boots, due to her evening wear, and now she had to sit there in an uncomfortable silence while her old lady’s maid fumbled at her ankles. And it was true. Smith’s joints made a very loud creaking sound as she got back to her feet.
She was just about to humbly apologise for her insensitivity when Smith grabbed the cloak from the bed and held it out for Adelia. She was smiling, ever so slightly.
“But at least you do something with your rich old age, my lady,” she said. Adelia stood up and Smith swung the cloak around her shoulders. She patted Adelia’s hands away, and tied it around her neck. “So I and the other servants have decided not to rise up against you all and murder you in your beds just yet.”
“Er – thank you. Very kind.”
“Good luck, my lady,” was Smith’s somewhat ambiguous parting shot. She was probably referring to the chase and not to the idea of potential insurrection, but one could never be sure.
They raced to Calcraft’s house. Archie and Bamfylde, being young and fit and healthy, were ahead of the others though they would occasionally stop to wait, which only served to make everyone else feel incredibly ponderous and lumbering. Theodore kept pace with Adelia at the back. In the middle were Bernard and Mr Macauley. Everyone else was sombre and focused, but Mr Macauley was frothing with excitement at being involved in something out of the ordinary.
The entrance to Calcraft’s house was framed by two lit lanterns, and one of the windows on the ground floor was glowing with the flickering light of a fire within. Bamfylde began to hammer on the door, but Archie pulled him to one side.
“It’s my house, too. Let us go straight in.”
Archie rattled the door and found that it was unlocked. They all fanned out in the large entrance hall. Bernard and Theodore had lanterns and they held them up high.
“Goodness,” said Adelia, disconcerted by what she saw as the shadows bloomed and retreated with the movement of the lanterns around the room. “I knew he was selling everything but … this place is quite empty.”
“It’s heart-breaking and I don’t understand it,” Archie replied, his voice almost echoing in the blank, bare space.
And she looked at him, and she knew that he was referring to more than the sale of his father’s worldly goods.
He was heart-broken now that he was inching closer to the truth about his father.
And none of them really understood it.
Theodore was oblivious to the moment passing between Archie and Adelia. He had strode to each of the doors in turn, calling out for Edwin Calcraft to show himself. Not even a servant appeared. The house felt very dead and very, very empty.
They began to run through the whole house. Adelia sighed. They should have organised themselves and worked out who was to go where, but instead all the men simply shot off in different directions, with no plan or division of labour, so that they collided with one another emerging from doors and around corners. She waited in the entrance hall, frustrated at their lack of logic. My daughter Edith would have had something to say about this situation, she thought. She’d write and tell her.
While she pondered how daft the men were to let their emotions rule their heads – a fact they would all deny! – she prowled the dark room. The front door had been left open and she had let her eyes adjust to the gloom that was only lit by the glow from the lanterns just outside. There was something just on the edge of her vision, a different grey on the grey of the floor, but she wasn’t sure if her eyes were playing tricks until she got right up close to it.
It was the box. The long, thin box that Calcraft had kept so close to him whenever they had visited. But it lay on the floor and it was open, its lid a little distance away. Had it fallen? Had it been thrown? And what had it contained? It seemed to be empty now.
As she put her foot forward, her step landed on something that cracked underneath her boot. She stepped away, and trod on something else, like a twig or a stick. As she peered more closely, she realised that she was standing on a mass of sticks all scattered on the stone floor around the box.
What on earth could it mean?
One by one, the men returned to the hall. And one by one they confessed their failure to find anything in the house.
“He has gone,” gasped Archie.
“He
re, Theodore, will you bring the lantern this way, please?” Adelia asked.
He suddenly grimaced. “I left you here in the dark!”
“Yes, and I shall have words about that on some other day. But for now, I want to know what this is.”
They all gathered around. Bernard crouched down, and picked up a bundle of the sticks.
“I know what this is,” he said. “Oh, how typical for an orientalist like Calcraft! These are yarrow. They are used for divination. I believe it is called the I-Ching.”
“How does it work?” asked Adelia.
Bernard was about to explain but Archie said, “We don’t have time for that now. Here’s a notebook!” He had lifted the box lid from the floor and found a small book below it. He took it to the lantern that Bernard had set by his feet, to see what was in it, but if he was hoping to find Calcraft’s written confession: “I am a murderer!” he was instantly disappointed.
“It’s just nonsense words,” he said, flipping to the end.
“And we don’t have time for that, either,” Theodore said suddenly.
“Do you know where he is?” Archie asked.
Theodore nodded grimly. “Yes. Who inherited after Spenning’s death?”
“Mrs Spenning, but why…” Archie said then he stopped, his face aghast.
“Yes. And who probably thought that they should have inherited?”
“You cannot mean my father?”
“Exactly. I do. Given their history and their business and the charity, I am sure that your father felt that he was owed something by Spenning – and subsequently wronged. Or else why would he have done all of this?” Theodore said. “We must go to her and save her!”
Adelia said, “No, wait. You’re wrong. I don’t think that’s why Calcraft killed Spenning at all.”
But her voice was lost, one female speaking up in a crowd of hot-headed men. She did not think that Calcraft would go and kill Florence Spenning. But she could not stay in the empty house alone, and so she had to follow on behind.
She was sure that Calcraft had killed Spenning.
But she was also sure the reason was Archie, not Florence, and not business or money at all.
24
Florence Spenning’s house looked quiet and shuttered for the night. They slowed to a halt as they approached. Theodore strained his ears. Was the silence a good sign, showing them that nothing terrible was happening – or was it a bad sign, the worse sign, telling them that they were all too late?
He took the lead alongside Bernard. Archie was hanging back now. The man looked thoroughly miserable, and Theodore remembered that the chap hadn’t eaten like they had. He was no doubt ravenous. And, he had to concede, Archie would be facing some uncomfortable facts about his father, too.
Bamfylde stayed near to Archie and Mr Macauley brought up the rear with Adelia close to him. Theodore wanted to get Adelia by his own side, but his wife seemed reluctant to come forward. He was surprised to see her feminine sensibilities suddenly get the better of her, but perhaps it was inevitable. He had pushed her rather hard this evening, he felt, and had a tinge of remorse about it.
The unease seemed to settle over the whole crowd of them. Theodore took a deep breath and went to knock on the door.
There was no reply. He rang the bell, persistently, and knocked again and again.
His thumping heart seemed to be as loud as the raps on the wood. He decided to count to ten, and then he would suggest that they batter the door down. If Calcraft was in there, doing something unspeakable to the widow, they could not afford to waste any more time.
Adelia said, from behind him, “We could call for the police…”
“There is no time!” Theodore muttered and raised his hand for one last blast of knocking.
The door opened very slightly. He let his hand drop.
“What on earth is going on?” said Mrs Spenning. “Who is that?”
“Lord Calaway. And Lady Calaway, and Baron Blaisdell-Smith, and… wait, don’t close the door.” Theodore thrust his boot into the space and continued. “And there is Mr Macauley and Mr Calcraft the younger here too. Mrs Spenning, we are here to ensure your safety.”
“I was feeling perfectly safe until you all turned up!” She let the door open fully and stared at them in astonishment. “What on earth do you mean by this? What is this about my safety?”
“Mrs Spenning, is Mr Edwin Calcraft within?”
“Good heavens, no. Why would he be? Are you suggesting that I am…”
“Not at all! There is no suggestion of that! It is only that we fear he might be on his way to cause you harm.”
“Harm?”
Theodore was growing impatient with Mrs Spenning’s repetition and lack of understanding. “He’s coming to kill you, Mrs Spenning.”
She burst out laughing. It was a low, throaty, humourless laugh. “I think you had better come in, but don’t expect hospitality for I have nothing to offer you.”
“We don’t wish for hospitality. Only the chance to explain.”
“Yes, I do demand an explanation of you. This way.” She led them to a parlour which had a small fire lit. She had obviously been bundled up for the evening, amusing herself in her own small and lonely way. There was a small glass of sherry on the table by the fire, and a book placed face-down alongside it. An oil lamp gave out a meagre light.
It could have been a scene in a lowly farmhand’s cottage not the parlour of the widow of one of the richest men in the local area.
They all stood awkwardly except for Adelia who was offered a seat opposite to where Mrs Spenning seated herself. She composed herself and looked directly at Theodore. “Well, then, an explanation, Lord Calaway. Thank you.”
“Edwin Calcraft is coming to kill you,” he said.
“But why would he do that?”
“Because you inherited your husband’s wealth.”
She said, “Ha!” and gestured around the room. “Yes, such wealth indeed. But is it not usual for the widow to inherit? Why would Mr Calcraft think it was his?”
Before Theodore could say something, Adelia burst in with a question that had clearly been troubling her for some time. She said, “How did you meet Mr Spenning?”
“You must have discovered that already.”
“Yes, I know it was at the house of Mr and Mrs Pickworth in Great Yarmouth. And that prior to that, you had been … forgive me, but under the care of the workhouse…”
“Oh goodness me, no. Nonsense. Sorry, Lady Calaway, you are hardly close.”
Theodore bristled at how his wife was being spoken to but he held his tongue with an effort.
Mrs Spenning went on. “My family is nothing. Just clerks and shop assistants and cooks and servants. I was not sent to the workhouse under some cloud of shame. I went into service in Yarmouth, like any woman from nowhere with nothing, and it was while I was serving some tea at Mr and Mrs Pickworth’s house that Mr Spenning saw me.”
“He took you as his wife? You, a maid…” Mr Macauley said.
Adelia frowned at him. “Many a man has married a servant,” she snapped. In a gentler tone, she said to Mrs Spenning, “How noble of him!”
“Oh, goodness me, no,” Mrs Spenning said, grimacing. She was almost sneering as she explained. “He was old, so much older than me, and had no hope nor even desire to have children or a family. That would dilute his money, I think, in his eyes. I don’t know if he thought he could take it all with him when he died! But he did like the idea of having someone to look after him. He could have employed me, of course. But he said, quite openly to me, why would he rent a woman when he could simply buy her? So I was married to him and became less than a maid, for I performed all the expected duties of servant and companion and received nothing at all in return. Oh, food, lodgings, those are something, I suppose. A name, a status, for what that’s worth.”
She made it sound as if a name and a status were worth absolutely nothing.
Adelia was nodding. Theodore thought h
e was beginning to understand.
Adelia said, “So he trapped you here. You told us that before and I didn’t fully understand what you meant. And you are still trapped, as the will states that you are only to be provided for if you live here. But you’re planning to escape, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And I am not doing anything wrong and I don’t care, anyway, if I were. I am selling everything to gather up enough money to get away.”
“But why would Calcraft want to come and kill you?” said Mr Macauley suddenly.
She replied, “That is what I want to know. It is nonsense. He has no reason to act against me. Miss Johnson might wish me harm, but not him.”
“Miss Johnson?” said Adelia. “She has her antipathies but she invited you to our dinner party herself.”
“So she did. I could hardly believe it when she turned up.”
“What is the matter that lies between you?”
“I cannot tell you. I cannot betray a confidence.”
“Whose confidence?” Adelia insisted.
Mrs Spenning laughed. “Her confidence! She knows all. She can tell you all, if she pleases. I have always kept my secrets and she need not fear me on that account. But,” she said, her laughter dying, “she does fear me. She has always been afraid that, on account of knowing what I know, that I would blackmail her. I would not and I will not. Assure her of that.”
Fear, thought Adelia. Has this been the root cause of all of Miss Johnson’s fear and anger towards Mrs Spenning? “Mrs Spenning, do you believe Miss Johnson to be a morally upright woman?”
Again she blurted out a hollow laugh. “Goodness. She is the most uptight and upright woman you’ll meet. It’s not to her credit. When life forces her to act in a way that is against her own true feelings, she rips herself into guilty pieces over it. But that is all that I can say on the matter.” She turned to the others. “Gentlemen, can you explain yourselves? As you can see, I am quite alone and unharmed.”
Adelia said, “Mrs Spenning, it seems that you are in the mood for confessions and so I would like to ask you if you have ever heard of The Society for the Improvement of the Poor?”