God bless you Mark. Your dearest, loving mama, Eliz. Hurrell.
He laid the letter down on the window seat, and covering his face with his hands, walked down the room, giving in to his emotion.
“When I am gone, look below!” he said at last. “Look below – oh dear God, why did I not understand her? Why was I such a fool? It seems so obvious now! Oh, God...”
He broke down completely then, and left the room.
Giles found him sitting on the bench beneath the walnut tree which he and Emma had so admired on their last visit to the house. He wiped his face dry as Giles approached.
“My own father?” Hurrell said. “Could she have been right? Could he really have done that to her? So slowly, so deliberately, so viciously? He loved her. He defied his father to marry her – it was a great passion. Oh, I know I fancied it was the case, but it cannot, cannot be the truth. I thought it was only my wicked imagination that could conjure up such things. It cannot be true. But why then would she –?”
“It is a compelling accusation,” said Giles, “and there may be a great deal of truth in it. We should pursue this.”
“How?” said Hurrell. “How would you ever get him to admit to such a thing? I know you are supposed to have uncommon powers in this area, but my father – he is a fortress. He has no weaknesses.”
“That is not at all the case,” said Giles. “There is always a way.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
“That horse,” said Lord Rothborough, “should be shot. Fenton tells me it is a most dangerous animal. What on earth were you doing, buying such a thing?”
“It was nothing to do with me,” said Felix. “She took a fancy to it when we were in Perthshire, and before I knew it, it was bought. I had no idea she intended to ride it. It was supposed to be for stud. She had a vague idea to set up a breeding stable.” He sank back on his pillows.
Lord Rothborough massaged his brow for a moment.
“It is all most unfortunate.”
“Have you spoken to her?” Felix said.
He shook his head.
“She has shut herself up in her room. I have sent for her mother.”
“I don’t know if that will do any good. In fact it might make it worse. She will blame me for that, as she blames me for everything now! Which she may as well, for it is probably true. I am obviously not at all what she wanted. I don’t know what it was she wanted, but it does not seem to be me! I am nothing but a wretched disappointment who throws silly obstacles in her way. What she sees as silly obstacles, of course, which the rest of us accept as common sense!”
“For example?” said Lord Rothborough.
“She is hell bent on motherhood, which of course is only natural, in some respects – I do see that, but she is still very young and I am not ready, by any means! I have attempted to explain this to her on numerous occasions, but she fights me tooth and nail. And of course she may already be with child and there is nothing else that can be done but live with the consequences, whatever they may be!”
“I see,” said Lord Rothborough, having thought for a moment. “If that is the case, then you are right – there is nothing more to be done than make the best of it. There is the possibility that since she yearns for it so much, it might be just what she requires; have you thought of that? A child often has a settling effect on a woman. It might make her grow up a little. That is the difficulty here, I think – her immaturity. And having said that, the responsibility might do you no harm, Felix. It was a useful lesson for me, certainly. It is a sobering business to face the consequences of one’s actions.”
“Consequences which may easily be avoided!” Felix said. “You, my lord, of all people, know that! In fact, I was thinking, after what you said to me about the reform of the marriage laws, there ought to be a revolution in all these matters between men and women! As it stands, we are all wading through a mire of superstition and confusion, and God forbid that it should ever be talked about rationally or openly! I intend to write something on the subject, in fact, when I have got over this wretchedness. If I am not up to my ears in mewling infants by then, that is.”
“Excellent,” said Lord Rothborough, reaching out and squeezing Felix’s shoulder. “You see, it has brought your mind into focus. And that surely is no bad thing. You know I want you to become more active in the business of reform. Our society is riddled with imperfections. You need to take your surgeon’s knife to them.”
“But it will stink of hypocrisy to speak on such a platform, and at the same time to be stocking a nursery. That is what Eleanor wants, I think – a host of small Carswells.”
“The argument is about choice, surely?” said Lord Rothborough, getting up and walking about the room. “That is the crux of it. An appeal to rational action. You wish your fellow men and women to have the choice to become parents or not. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Then, there it is!” said Lord Rothborough. At that moment the door opened. “Ah, Major Vernon!”
“I’m glad to find you here, my lord,” Major Vernon said. “I wanted to speak to you. I need your assistance, in fact.”
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
“I need you to contrive a meeting with Sir Morten.”
“Certainly. Why?”
“We have some interesting new evidence. It seems that Mark Hurrell’s instinct about his mother’s death was not so fanciful. Here.” He reached into his coat and laid a folded letter, a twisted scrap of paper and a lock of hair on the counterpane in front of Felix. “Under the floor in Rooke Court. Lady Hurrell was being literal when she told her son to look below. It’s extremely suggestive of murder.”
Felix took up the letter and failed to decipher it, so handed it to Major Vernon, who gave them a précis.
“How extraordinary,” said Lord Rothborough. “What a quick-witted woman!”
“A desperate woman,” said Major Vernon. “And for her sake, I would like you to contrive to see Sir Morten. In fact, I want you tell him what we have found.”
“Surely not?” said Felix.
“He needs to feel threatened, yes,” said Lord Rothborough.
“But safe,” said Major Vernon. “Which is where you come in, my lord. If you can play the card of the concerned neighbour, who does not want any more scandal to besmirch one of the great families of the district?” Lord Rothborough nodded. “You will in effect be tipping him off, in case of future difficulty.”
“I see,” Lord Rothborough said with a smile. “I don’t think that will be beyond me.”
“That contains a white powder,” said Major Vernon, noticing Felix examining the scrap of twisted paper. “Which we can assume is –”
“Arsenic?” said Felix. “I think so, and it is an easy matter to establish.” Now he took up the lock of hair. “And this was with the letter?” Major Vernon nodded. “Yes, she must have been a very quick-witted woman to know that hair may be tested for poison as well. All in all, she has made a thorough case against her husband.”
“He needs to understand he is in danger from this,” said Major Vernon to Lord Rothborough. “He needs to feel the possibility of everything unravelling.”
“You think there are other matters to unravel, then?” said Felix.
“Yes, several,” said Major Vernon. “Sir Morten Hurrell is by no means the fine old country gentleman he pretends to be, and if we apply the right sort of pressure then his façade will crumble.”
“I have no doubt that you will be successful,” said Lord Rothborough. “Now let us go, and you can tell me exactly what you want me to do. Felix, I think you should rest.”
“Certainly. I’m hoping you might be well enough in a day or two to come with us and confront him, Mr Carswell.”
“I shall do my best to recover, then.”
Left alone, he slept for some time and woke feeling refreshed. He got out of bed, surprised and relieved to find himself clear-headed, and was just about to ring for Jacob when the door opened
and Eleanor came in. She closed the door behind her and stood with her back against it. She said nothing, and for a moment Felix was speechless.
She was dressed for dinner, in a haze of gauze and ribbons, the shoulders extremely low, revealing the gentle curve of her breast, a style that seemed to invite his kisses.
“So you are going down?” he said at last.
“I scarcely dare not to,” she said, tweaking at a ringlet. “Lord Rothborough sent me a note insisting.”
“Oh, one of those!” Felix said. “I can imagine what that was like. And impossible to disobey. But he will be pleased to see you. As am I.”
“You are?” she said, drifting across the room. “Don’t you want to scold me?”
“If you like,” said Felix.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“It might make you feel better.”
“Or rather, make you feel better,” she said. “After all, that is all you want, is it not, a dutiful, obedient little wife, who never questions anything at all? Don’t you want to scold me into submission?”
“No! No, absolutely not! How can you think that?”
She did not answer but stood at a little side table, examining the objects upon it as if they were the most interesting things in the world.
“Let us rip up the last few pages,” Felix said, remembering all Lord Rothborough and Major Vernon had said to him. “They don’t do either of us much credit, Eleanor. If you are with child, then you are, and there is nothing more to be said about it. It is a natural consequence, and I have to accept that, and if I was less than enthusiastic, I apologise. I was startled, that is all, when I ought not to have been. I needed time to adjust my thinking and face up to my new responsibilities.”
She turned and looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes. Now, please will you forgive me?” he said, opening his arms to her. “Please?”
A moment later, she was pressed against him, and they began to embrace.
“Oh, I wish I did not have to go down,” she murmured.
“I think you had better,” he said.
The ardour of her embrace had begun to stir him, and he could tell from her movements that she too was feeling the warmth of physical longing. Their animal natures were threatening to overwhelm them, as always seemed to be the case. At that moment he knew that he did not want their mutual desire to get the better of them. So he carefully detached himself and kissed her forehead as chastely as he could, and escorted her to the door.
“It does not do to ignore Lord Rothborough’s little notes,” he said.
“I shall be wretched without you. You must get better soon, Felix. This is all so –” She threw up her hands. “So trying!”
He took her hands and kissed them, and she left, running down the passageway with her ribbons fluttering.
He went back into the room and sat down, feeling exhausted and frustrated. However, he was satisfied that he had managed to resist her charms. It would have been foolish in the extreme to indulge himself.
He was left with a tangible reminder of his own desire and as he wondered what he ought to do with it, he found himself thinking of a book by Sir Astley Cooper. The great man had recounted an experiment on a dog, where by dividing the vas deferens he had prevented the dog, then observed in coitus, from reproducing.
He wanted to consult the book at once, but it lay in a packing case at Hawksby. He tried to remember the details of it, but with little success. What he did recall was that it had seemed a trivial matter, and the dog had not suffered in any way. He remembered even marking the passage for further consideration.
If such a procedure could work on a dog, with no adverse effects on coitus, then perhaps it might work on a man. What if there might be a mild, safe form of surgical castration, which would not affect a man’s conjugal relations nor his physical manhood, but in effect render him unable to procreate – would that not be the greatest benefit to human relations? It would be an end to ridiculously large families and all the suffering that caused. How many women would be glad to be freed from the endless pain and trouble of childbearing? The matter might become one of rational choice rather than a wretched lottery. He would gladly submit to an experimental operation for such a universal benefit, assuming he could find a surgeon he trusted to perform it, a man such as Mr Harper. He had the steadiest, neatest and swiftest hand Felix had ever observed at work. However, he was also a fervent evangelical who would, without doubt, find even the suggestion of such a procedure offensive. Felix had no wish to offend the man and found himself wrangling with the difficulties of turning theory into practice on such sensitive matters. Conservative opinion lay not in an unknown mob, but in the hearts of those he cared for. He had already underestimated the force of opposition in his own wife, after all. How on earth could he convince the world, if he could not convince her?
Chapter Thirty-nine
Three days later, although feeling a little unsteady on his legs, Felix had judged himself sufficiently recovered to accompany Major Vernon into Northminster. When he arrived at Rooke Court, he found himself ushered into a small closet that opened off the drawing room. It was hardly more than a cupboard, with its door cut from the panelling and a cobweb-covered internal window admitting a dim light from the stair beyond.
“Think of it as a box at the theatre with no view,” said Major Vernon. “We are lucky to have it, all in all.”
And then he pressed his finger to his lips, alerted by the sound of footsteps on the stair.
“Now I think, sir, from all that was said,” Lord Rothborough could be heard saying as they came upstairs, “that it was implied that these libellous objects might be found in the drawing room. Your son seemed very convinced of the existence of these objects, and Vernon took him seriously.”
“You will excuse me for being so slow, my lord – I am still a little...” This was Sir Morten, sounding hoarse and struggling with his delivery.
“No, forgive me, sir, I had not appreciated your illness had struck you so hard. If I had known I should have delayed this. Here, let me assist you.”
“No, no, I can manage a few stairs, my lord, I assure. And I am glad you did inform me, my lord, and I shall be forever in your debt.”
“There will be no debt, sir,” said Lord Rothborough. “These matters must be controlled. It is as simple as that. There is no hope for order in society if we are not allowed to control these matters to our benefit, for what benefits our interest, is in fact to the interest of all! Now, I suppose the drawing room is through here?”
“Yes,” said Sir Morten, and they could be heard coming into the room.
“Ah, what a fine room,” said Lord Rothborough. “This old panelling is magnificent. And it looks as if the boards have not been taken up. We are in good time. Allow me, sir? You should sit down. I can easily lift a board or two. I have the very tool. I went to speak to Hudson, my buildings man, about it. He has given me this. What a marvellous thing it is! And he is an excellent man, been with me for twenty years now. But, now, this will amuse you, Sir Morten, he told me he has a connection with Hurrell Place – his sister was in service with you at one time – married now, of course, but he was extremely proud of her having worked for you. In fact – and is this not typical of the best old family servants? – he was at pains to point out to me that if a place came up for him at Hurrell Place, he would gladly take it. And he said this to me, quite frankly! Just to remind me, I suppose, how things really are.”
Lord Rothborough laughed at that, but Felix knew that was scarcely his usual laugh, and that his whole manner had become decidedly theatrical.
He turned a fraction, as quietly as he could, feeling both the stiffness of his joints and a sense of unease at being in such a confined place. As he moved, he felt the board beneath his feet wanting to sing out like a canary in a mine, but although he avoided this, he ended with his feet at a strange angle. However, he now had a view of the room through a narrow sli
t on the side of the door where it hung on its hinges. He could see Lord Rothborough assisting Sir Morten to the window seat and insisting he sit down. Then Lord Rothborough moved out of sight, giving Felix a clear view of Sir Morten.
Even from this distance he could see that Sir Morten looked most unwell, his complexion grey and his expression contorting intermittently. He was clutching discreetly at his belly and he reached for his handkerchief to cover his mouth. Was he retching? Felix pressed his face closer to the chink but it did not help him judge.
There then came the sound of banging and creaking as Lord Rothborough lifted the boards. This was a proceeding Felix had to admit he would like to have seen, for he could not in his wildest imaginings have pictured his Lordship engaged in anything quite so workmanlike.
“About here, sir?” Lord Rothborough was saying.
“Yes,” gasped Sir Morten, who looked liable to pass out at any moment.
“Of course, it may be that there is nothing, that your son was giving way to wild fancy. Which I suppose we may say he has done already given that appalling book of his,” Lord Rothborough said. “But if there is something, anything, I feel certain you would not wish it to fall into the wrong hands, and be wilfully misinterpreted.”
“No...” Sir Morten said, but then made a tremendous groan. He was still clutching his handkerchief to his face and slithered from his seat onto his knees, as his body was racked by spasms. That something was amiss could not be doubted.
“You need help, sir,” said Lord Rothborough.
“No, no, I am only a little.. indisposed...” He was now out of sight, but the sound of his throwing up on the floor was evident.
Felix looked across at Major Vernon whose hand was on the latch, holding the cupboard door shut.
“I must –” Felix mouthed and Major Vernon nodded, gently letting go of the latch and letting the door slowly open, just as Lord Rothborough was saying, “We must get you to a doctor, sir.”
“No, no, we must keep looking, sir!” said Sir Morten, and then caught sight of Major Vernon and Felix emerging from the closet. “What the devil...? What is going on?”
The Echo at Rooke Court Page 30