At that moment, the study door burst open and the Major and Simeon Bailey entered. In one fluid movement, the Major flicked the lion’s tail and the door to the lead-lined antechamber closed. Crying out, Cecelia knew there was little point and more importantly, only enough air for a couple of hours in the incredibly well-designed space.
“This,” the Major announced from his seat at the desk, “is perfect.”
Simeon Bailey paced the width of the room, pausing only to replace the globe in its usual position. He returned to his friend’s side, a sinister half-smile crossing his unaccustomed lips.
“You are, Simeon, a genius.”
With cool countenance, Simeon Bailey revelled in his own brilliance. “I merely realised the opportunity on seeing the house plans and devised a suitable clue to lure the woman here. She’s remarkably intelligent and has clearly utilised the bait laid for her.”
“We're searching for a mirror then, is that what you’re saying?” Diane’s belligerent voice grated on Lady Felicity as she stood rigid by the fireplace. Reggie indicated that I shouldn’t follow him into the study. Once again, I’m left to entertain while he does goodness knows what.
Lily gave a sigh. Clearly Diane was unfamiliar with the expression, ‘Three’s a crowd’. But Diane is trying to join in with solving the clue, albeit in her own unique way. “That’s basically it, yes,” Lily nodded.
“So, we have to trail around the whole house, looking for a mirror where someone could quietly contemplate?” Diane said, reluctant to engage in any kind of physical effort.
“Again, yes,” Lily replied.
“Well, it’s obvious! Where do you sit and think quietly in solitude with a mirror in the room?” She gazed at both Peter and Lily’s blank faces in turn, infinitely pleased with her own outstanding ingenuity.
Lily shook her head slowly.
“The bathroom, of course!”
The search had begun at the top of the house, mainly to satisfy Diane’s overwhelming belief that the mirror in the large bathroom was the key to solving the clue.
“I don’t know if anyone else feels the same way,” Lily said cautiously.
Peter nodded. “How do we know if the mirror’s something special?”
“I have a feeling in my water,” muttered Diane, running a plump hand all over the expanse of clean glass, depositing smears.
Lily took out her notebook again. “It’s all a bit ambiguous.”
Diane’s pencilled eyebrows rose in response to the word because she wasn’t quite sure of its meaning.
“The clue refers to not ignoring the mirror’s catch if you want to contemplate in solitude. So, what does the mirror’s catch mean?” Lily’s brain was fuzzy as the clue lodged defiantly between two synapses.
“What about the mirror catching an image? But, so does every mirror, so it doesn’t narrow things down much,” Peter said, puzzled.
“I dare say, as it’s our last day, they don’t want us solving the clue too quickly – keeps us occupied and out of the way,” Diane said, and Lily and Peter nodded in agreement.
“We could be at this all day,” Peter sighed. “I really don’t know where we can go from here – what else does a mirror catch?”
“The light!” said Lily with a sudden spark of inspiration.
“But surely, that depends on the time of day, or whether the curtains are open or shut.
There isn’t light all the time in the same place.” Diane was on a roll.
“You’re right, of course,” Lily nodded. “So, what else can it mean – I’m not prepared to give up yet.”
Peter smiled at her tenacity. “What if they’ve concealed something behind one of
the mirrors?”
“That just means we’ve got to go and search every room!” Diane was not impressed – her feet hurt and she was ready for lunch.
“It’s better than calling it a day until the police arrive.” Lily began to walk along the corridor towards the end bedroom, occupied by Simeon Bailey.
Diane trudged belligerently behind.
Lady Felicity sat alone in the drawing room, relishing the gift of late-morning peace, but found her head was buzzing with uncertainty. Why has Reggie telephoned the police when he’s trying to scare off that scheming woman who claims the Hall is rightfully hers? I’m deliberately being kept out of things! The Hall would never be the same again – what with two bodies in one weekend – Mr Pargitter’s unfortunate accident plus the Professor’s suicide. And possibly also a murder to top it off, if Reggie has his way . . .
Seb entered the room so quietly, it shocked Lady Felicity when he appeared in front of her. “Sorry to disturb you, Madam, but Cook says she can only provide vegetable curry for lunch. She knows it’s not your favourite and wonders if you’d like something different?”
Lady Felicity stared straight ahead, her brain refusing to consider the unappealing alternative of a coddled egg. “To be perfectly honest, Treadmill, I’m not feeling particularly
hungry. I think I’ll just have a cup of tea.”
Keeping the mounting sensation of claustrophobia at bay becomes more difficult the more I think about it. Cecelia peered around her, seeing nothing but inky blackness. The palpable confinement was constant. Despite the fact that she couldn’t make out the closely set walls of the small room, Cecelia knew they were there. If she reached out both hands, she’d be able to touch them by way of confirmation. She spent several minutes weighing up whether to light the stubby candle, although this would burn the available oxygen more quickly. Surely someone will soon realise I’m missing? Someone will work out the door was open as I searched for a solution to the clue and deduce that I must be trapped inside? Cecelia resigned herself sadly that she could only wait.
After a morning of utter futility, Diane returned with Lily and Peter to the drawing room. It was twenty past one and Diane’s stomach rumbled loudly. The ginger girl would insist on taking every point raised to the enth degree, refusing to see the logic in my way of thinking, she recalled bitterly. The policeman was no better, toadying for Lily’s benefit and not giving a straight answer when one was required. Diane was now exhausted, having combed the house more than once in what must have been miles of corridor.
Peter checked both his watch and the mantle clock, of the same mind as Diane where his stomach was concerned. They’d searched every room and every mirror on the upper and ground floors; the only exceptions being the attic, the Major’s study and the library.
“Well,” Lily exclaimed with dismay, “By a process of elimination, we’ve checked every room. There definitely wasn’t a mirror in the library – we can’t go in there anyway – and the attic which, if memory serves, didn’t contain any old mirrors either.”
Diane nodded, wondering what kind of roast meat they were about to be served for Sunday lunch. There’ll be crispy, golden roast potatoes – I’ll have at least five – and if it’s a nice joint of pork, some crackling will go down nicely. And perhaps there’ll be a side dish of creamy cauliflower cheese! The vegetables will be soft yet still have some integrity and the apple sauce and the gravy will be thick and plentiful. Her mouth was watering so much, she completely missed Lily’s question.
“Diane! Are you with us? I said the only other place this mirror can be is in the Major’s study. Do you remember seeing one in there?”
Diane Pargitter tried to look as though she were considering the prospect deeply as her mind turned to puddings. Please let there be a massive great bowl of thick chocolate or strawberry mousse in the centre of the table . . .
“Diane!” Lily’s irritated tone disrupted the happy dream.
“I can’t really remember. Silly really, but I just can’t recall one. I was looking at the theatre photographs on the wall more than at the furniture.”
Peter gave Lily a knowing look, fully aware that if you asked ten witnesses to describe a crime scene you’d get ten different versions of what they’d seen, very little corroboration and not one reliab
le statement. Most people were notoriously bad at recalling small details. That, he decided, was what made Lily so exceptional.
“Well,” Lily said with a sigh, “let’s assume the mirror we’re searching for is actually in the Major’s study. What was the point of setting a clue leading us to a room we can’t get into?”
“Perhaps it’s delaying tactics – eking out the last day so we’re not kicking our heels with boredom.” Peter checked his watch again. “I must say, I expected the police to be here by now as the disappearance of Professor Ambrose really grabbed the headlines. Let’s get lunch out of the way – we’ll ask the Major if we’ve got this clue right.”
Diane nodded in wholehearted agreement as the welcome sight of Treadmill entered the room to announce that luncheon was now being served in the dining room.
After a very disappointing meal consisting of thin Brown Windsor soup of indeterminable origin, turnip and carrot in a curry sauce with rice and a passable egg custard for pudding, Diane was ready to pack her suitcase. Didn’t Cook know how to produce a proper Sunday roast? The food, Diane considered, bitterly, recalling the rabbit casserole debacle again, had gone distinctly downhill since the weekend began.
It was not until that point that Diane, full of her own issues, realised that Cecelia was absent from the dining table. In a loud voice, she asked, “Where’s Miss Morris – is she ill?”
Lily – looking up from the detested bowl of egg custard that had been unceremoniously plonked in front of her by Kitty Walker before there was time to protest – wished lunch was over and done with. Peter caught the Major’s beetle-black eyes on him and the older man effected a carefree shrug of his shoulders.
“I believe the young lady had a bad headache and went to lie down quietly in her room while we wait for the police,” Lady Felicity said in a tight voice, irritated that she had been left to fend off the enquiry as her husband was clearly not going to reply.
Intrigued, Lily made to leave the table. “I’ll take her up a cup of tea,” she offered kindly, wondering why no one else had thought of it.
Lady Felicity’s expression was akin to Lily suggesting they drown a bag of kittens for post-lunch entertainment. “I think there was some sickness too,” Felicity added rapidly. “Cecelia mentioned she had strong headache tablets in her room and she would just try to sleep it off. Best not to disturb her if she’s that bad – she won’t thank you.”
No – she’ll most probably snap my head clean off at the neck if she has a migraine and I offer her acidic tea, Lily decided.
“We should resume clue-solving instead,” Peter announced, taking charge of the awkward situation. “We’ve come to the conclusion,” he gazed directly at the Major, “that the only place this mirror can be is in your study.”
A look passed between the Major and Simeon Bailey before the latter addressed the entire table. “You’ve done very well. Yes, that is the location of the mirror – there’s no need to search any further.” A wide grin spread across his mouth, where bits of egg custard clung to his moustache, their yellow hue matching the Major’s discoloured teeth.
“Reggie!” Lady Felicity hissed. She delicately mimed dabbing at her own mouth and the Major hastily snatched up his linen napkin, wiping the defenceless cloth over the expanse below his ruddy cheeks.
“But what about the mirror’s catch part?” Lily persisted.
Again, the Major shot Simeon Bailey a brief look that did not escape Peter. “Oh, don’t worry about that! You’ve solved the majority of the clue and that’s enough.”
“Surely, for the sake of completeness, you’ll explain the meaning?” Peter, with an instinct for this type of thing, sensed the Major was being deliberately evasive.
Reginald Manners-Gore shot to his feet, resting his balled fists on the dining table as he reared forward like an aggressive bulldog, although his face retained a fixed smile. “As I said, there really is no need to go into the study.”
“Wasn’t it Shakespeare,” Lily stated, “who said, ‘you protesteth too much, me thinks’?”
The Major looked shocked, with Lady Felicity not far behind. Simeon continued to sit enigmatically, taking in proceedings as though he were merely a casual observer.
Peter rose to match the Major’s stance. “I think I’ll take a look in your study now, just to satisfy my curiosity.” His gaze fell upon Lily and Diane. “Coming ladies?”
As they left the room with Diane trotting behind like a faithful spaniel, Peter caught sight of Simeon lowering his right hand, palm flat. There’s definitely something amiss here and why’s Bailey gesturing the Major not to make a fuss?
Hastily pushing open the study door, the three piled in, standing stock-still as they surveyed the scene. The room was peaceful, with autumn sun drifting in through the mullioned window. A large gilt-framed mirror sat on the wall behind the Major’s desk.
“Of course,” remarked Lily, irritated with herself, “I saw it on Friday evening when we were allowed to look around the Hall!”
Peter crossed the room, fully expecting the Major and Simeon Bailey to burst in at any moment. “What did the clue say about the mirror?”
From memory, Lily recited, “The mirror’s catch must not elude.”
Instinctively, Lily ran her hand along the lower part of the mirror frame. The lion’s tail tweaked sideways and the door to the small space behind the globe slid slowly open. From the vestibule within came a disembodied groan, scaring Lily and Diane enough to emit a simultaneous yelp of terror.
Peter rushed to shift the obscuring globe away from the opening, crouching to his knees so he could see into the area beyond. With a look of horror, he lunged forward so half of his body disappeared into the space. It was too much like déja vu for Lily, who wildly imagined what he might find this time.
Cecelia’s barely conscious body slowly emerged as Peter pulled her into the oxygen-rich study, letting her flop onto the Major’s Persian rug.
“Oh!” gasped Diane. “Shouldn’t we fan her with some papers and loosen any tight clothing?”
Cecelia rapidly regained her faculties at the thought of Diane pawing her best silk blouse. She sat up, patted her hair and vigorously brushed at each arm of her lilac wool suit.
“What on earth happened?” Lily asked, crouching so she could peer intently at Cecelia’s pale but still immaculate features.
Looking past Lily to Diane’s eager round face, Cecelia crossed her ankles while she pondered where to start with the tale. “I was following the clue and located the catch on the mirror, as you must have done. The panel in the wall slid across to reveal this little chamber, so I stupidly crawled in to have a closer look. The next thing I knew, the door was shutting again, but not before I realised that the Major and Doctor Bailey were there – they’d come back into the room.”
“So, do you think they shut the door on purpose?” Lily asked, unable to believe the two men would be so cruel.
Cecelia raised her perfect eyebrows and shrugged. “Don’t know – perhaps, perhaps not. But even giving them the benefit of the doubt, why would they close the door, knowing I was in there?”
Lily shook her head in disbelief.
“I knew the Major was behaving oddly,” Peter said, satisfied he’d been proved right. “He was doing all he could to prevent us coming in here and now we know why.”
“But why would they do that to her?” wailed Diane in a rare show of unity. “It’s like when Lady Felicity tried to push me down the well and being sent to the cellar. I’ve only just lost Frank – it’s so horribly mean!”
“It all has something to do with this inheritance thing in the magazine article,” Lily pursed her lips at Diane, who had first brought the subject up. “Goodness knows what it all has to do with Cecelia though, or why they’ve treated you this way.”
As everyone nodded, Cecelia knew exactly why the door had closed on her.
WHERE THERE’S A WILL
Having decided that Cecelia’s adventure was all very str
ange, but most probably due to a horrible mishap, Lily, Peter and Diane escorted her back to the drawing room. The atmosphere was odd, heavy and loaded with tension, but each agreed they should wait a few more hours for the police to arrive before going their separate ways.
After all, Lily thought, nobody had been badly injured, or died trying to solve a clue, with the unfortunate exception of Frank Pargitter’s accidental demise . . .
The group faced Major Reginald Manners-Gore and his sinister sidekick as the two men purposefully entered the drawing room. Lady Felicity was no longer present and Diane, curbing her natural nosiness, knew better than to ask why she was absent.
“Can I just ask, out of professional curiosity,” said Peter carefully, “what exactly did the police say when you telephoned them about the discovery of Professor Ambrose’s body?”
The Mystery at Fig Tree Hall Page 19