Untitled

by Wendy Bayne

  He turned and looked towards the door as if he was wrestling with what he wanted to say next. “I expect that you know he’s going to be a difficult patient; nonetheless I suggest that you use the laudanum sparingly and only if he tries to get out of bed or becomes unruly then make use of it…but only if absolutely necessary.” He looked as if he had something else he wanted to say but then changed his mind and remained silent.

  Aunt Mary stood up, smoothed down her skirts and smiling at him she extended her hand which he took, bowing over it, “Thank you, doctor. I will go up to him now and organize the sick room and staff. I assure you he will not be left alone. Irene, my dear, perhaps you could speak to cook about making some beef tea and a light custard for when Samuel awakens.”

  Mother got up and moved towards the door but before either of them could leave the room, Dr Jefferson stopped them. “If you will excuse me, Lady Alford. I would advise you that Mr Hughes needs a more substantial diet than just beef tea and custard. I realise that is not the usual course of treatment prescribed by many of my colleagues, but I have found through experience that satisfying meals that tempt the patient to eat are more efficacious than a light bland diet.”

  Aunt Mary’s chin came up and she opened her mouth to obviously argue while Mother and I cringed, waiting for her to say something cutting, but before she could utter a word the doctor continued with an impish smile. “He must also drink plenty of nourishing fluids to replenish what he has lost from bleeding. So, beef tea is an excellent idea, Lady Alford.” Pursing his lips as if deciding on what else to say he continued, “And I strongly suggest no strong spirits. I’m sure I can count on you ladies to see that none is smuggled into him.” He gave my father a sharp look then relaxed his face immediately when he saw me watching him. “He can have small beer with his meals and a very little red wine with water at dinner, nothing stronger until I say otherwise.” Aunt Mary nodded approvingly.

  Just then Mr Allan came to the door and announced that the Mr Spencer, the Bow Street Investigator, had arrived. “I have placed Mr Spencer from Bow Street in the small withdrawing room.”

  Dr Jefferson excused himself and took his leave after bowing to my mother and Aunt Mary. He nodded to me and shook hands with my father, both men exchanging a look of concern.

  Aunt Mary, I observed, must have noticed their shared look as well since she now looked pale and worried as she stood there, twisting her rings on her fingers. But she shook herself and wasted no more time in sailing out of the room behind the doctor. My mother kissed Father on the cheek. “If you’ll excuse me, darling, I think l will go speak to cook about Samuel’s needs and arrange for tray to be sent up when he awakens. I’ll also make sure another place is set for Mr Spencer for luncheon.”

  Mother smiled, but there must have been something in Father’s face that made her hesitate before she reached the door. “Am I wrong thinking that you would like Mr Spencer to dine with us? I just assumed from the way you said that ‘we’ would need information about the shooting that you intended to involve yourself in the investigation. If so then you would need to enlist Mr Spencer’s cooperation and indulgence, especially if you expect him to allow you access to whatever he learns.” Father’s face gave away very little, but the corner of his lip trembled as if he would smile or laugh. Mother arched her brow coyly, saying, “Or was I wrong to think that you intended to ingratiate yourself with the gentleman?”

  To keep from giving himself away, Father focused on the carpet, pursed his lips, tapping them with one finger and only stopping after a few seconds then he put his arm around my shoulder and smiled at my mother. “You’ve read my mind, darling. Yes, I think I shall invite Mr Spencer to join us.” Then he looked down at me, “Well, Lissa, shall we go meet this Inspector and size up his character?”

  Mother looked puzzled. “So, you don’t know this man?”

  “Only by reputation, my love, but I think you’ll find him a most interesting. If he’s the man I think he is then his talents are being wasted in Bow Street, but we shall see.” He paused to smile at Mother then continued, “Let Lissa and I reconnoitre our guest and satisfy his curiosity about the shooting. And as we dine, we can all take his measure.” Mother shook her head, still smiling as she went off to speak to cook.

  Father gave my shoulder a squeeze as we followed her out the door. “Come, my sweet, let’s see what you can remember for our guest and we’ll see what we might be able to find out from him.”

  Mr Spencer was standing by the windows looking out onto our back garden. At first glance, he was not at all what I had expected, indeed he was far from it. In fact, he appeared to be a gentleman. He was as well dressed and groomed as my father, he was tall and muscular, but his clothes fit him very well for such a large man. He turned around as we entered, Mr Spencer was indeed very respectable looking, he was clean shaven with a rugged countenance and a long, straight nose. He was considerably older than my father with grey at the temples of his dark blond hair. His most arresting feature though were his eyes, they were a deep emerald green. And from the way he looked at me I was sure he would know if I lied. He glanced first at me then my father and then quickly looked around the room as if he was assessing its contents, his eyes didn’t seem to miss a thing. My father stepped forward and introduced himself, extending his hand, “Mr Spencer, I am Colin Turner.”

  Mr Spencer shook his hand while ignoring me. “A pleasure, sir, but have we met before? I seem to recall an occasion…” Father shook his head no. I wondered why I hadn’t been introduced as I’m sure Mr Spencer was wondering. He waited a bit looking at me then back at my father before he continued, “An admirable home you have here, Mr Turner, very admirable.” Mr Spencer thumbed his nose then caught me observing him, so he coughed taking another look around the room. “I take it that Adams was the architect.” It was statement not a question.

  My father indicated a chair and invited him to sit. “Please, Mr Spencer, have seat. Yes, the house was built by Adams. Are you a student of architecture or is there some other purpose behind your question?”

  Mr Spencer smiled as he chuckled, it brightened his entire countenance and made him appear less threatening which was probably not an asset when dealing with criminals. “Touché, Mr Turner. You have undergone some significant changes since we last met for I’m sure we’ve met before though you may not want to remember the circumstances.” He chuckled, and my father blushed. I would love to know what that was about. “So, Mr Turner, you can’t fault me for being curious.” Again, he looked around the room. My father was watching him closely, both seemed to be assessing each other.

  There was a brief knock at the door and my mother entered, stopping behind our seat, she put one hand on my father’s shoulder and one on mine. Mr Spencer stood up and bowed slightly as Father said, “Mr Spencer, may I present my wife, Irene.”

  For just a split second there was a flash of surprise in his eyes. “My pleasure, ma’am.”

  Then father reached out placing his hand on my arm, “And this is Clarissa.”

  Mr Spencer turned to me with a quizzical look then nodded “Miss.”

  My mother smiled graciously. “Mr Spencer, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I can’t thank you enough for coming to our home to interview our daughter.” Again, there was that split second of surprise in his eyes, but he had better control of himself now and it was barely noticeable. I wondered if Father and Mother were trying to fluster Mr Spencer on purpose, if they were…it wasn’t working.

  He looked at all three of us through narrowed eyes before saying, “I thought I was here to investigate the attempted murder of Mr Samuel Hughes. So why do I get the impression that I’m being investigated instead?”

  My mother laughed. “Mr Spencer, would you care join us for luncheon after you speak with Clarissa? I think there are many questions you will have for us.”

  He nodded at her but didn’t smile, “And I believe that you have many questions for me as well, Mrs Turner.” Nevertheless, he
took his time before making his decision. He looked around the room again. “It would be my honour to join you, Mrs Turner. I don’t suppose that Mr Hughes or Lady Alford will be joining us?”

  Mother replied but seemed a little puzzled, wrinkling her forehead. “Mr Hughes will not be joining us. The doctor has confined him to bed. As for Lady Alford, I can’t be sure.”

  He sighed as if saddened by that remark then turned towards me abruptly, “So shall we get down to the business of what happened in the park, miss? Then perhaps luncheon will be less uncomfortable for all of us.” He took out a small booklet and pencil from his pocket.

  Mr Spencer cleared his throat and began, “Mr Turner, I will need your ah daughter’s full and legal name for my report.” I squirmed at his implication, yet I should have realised that he would think that Colin was not my real father.

  I was annoyed by his assumption, so I spoke up before my father could say anything much to the amusement of my elders. “My name is Clarissa Alice Charlotte Mary Turner. I am sixteen years old and the legal as well as the natural daughter of Colin and Irene Turner.” Mother moved around to join us on the settee, clasping my hand tightly and smiling beautifully.

  Mother and Father could barely contain a chuckle as Mr Spencer looked directly at me in disbelief and coughed, “Ah yes, well, thank you… Miss… Turner.” He looked pointedly at my father who only nodded. Mr Spencer proceeded to query me about my morning and what had happened in the park. I gave as thorough an account as I could. I didn’t omit anything even though he tried to fool me by rewording his questions. Nevertheless, my answers didn’t vary. Father seemed impressed with how I was handling the interview since he had relaxed back into the settee. It’s not that I wasn’t nervous, but I knew how important it was that I be precise.

  Mr Spencer finally finished with his questions. “Thank you, Miss Turner, I believe I have everything I need.” He looked over his notes then back at me with a challenge in his eyes. “You have an excellent memory for detail.”

  I smiled and started to rise expecting to be dismissed by my father, but he motioned for me to sit. Mr Spencer and I were both surprised. He glared at my father before saying in an incredulous voice. “Mr Turner, what are you playing at? Has this young lady been rehearsed? If I recall correctly the last time our paths crossed, you were leading the life of a rich and somewhat debauched bachelor! And now you expect me to believe that you’re suddenly a married man with a grown child? Would you care to explain?”

  Father never moved a muscle, he was comfortable with the truth, you could see it in his demeanour and the tone of his voice. “I assure you, Mr Spencer, that Clarissa is my daughter. My wife and I married secretly seventeen years ago. It was against the wishes of our families, but we did so anyway with the aid of Lady Alford and my wife’s stepmother. Clarissa was born approximately nine months later while I was on leave from France. The rest of our story is rather involved but I will be happy to share it with you after luncheon.”

  Just then Mr Allan knocked on the door and came announcing, “Luncheon is ready, madame.”

  Father stood up, offering my mother his hand, “Thank you, Allan, we will be right there.”

  She turned toward Mr Spencer, “Shall we?” Taking his arm, she started by asking him if he had any family as they walked out of the room.

  Father offered me his arm but not before he kissed me on the cheek. “You were brilliant, my darling.” then we followed my Mother and Mr Spencer.

  Aunt Mary was just coming down the stairs as we reached the hallway when she called out. “Colin, you didn’t tell me we were expecting a guest for luncheon.”

  Mr Spencer turned around quickly at the sound of her voice and with a wide grin on his face he bowed. “Lady Alford, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

  Aunt Mary gasped clutching her throat then practically ran down the rest of the steps “Arthur, my heavens, is it really you?! I knew you were with Bow Street, but I never expected to see you here.” He nodded never taking his eyes off my aunt. Mother stepped aside as Aunt Mary stopped directly in front of Mr Spencer. She was so very tiny standing there looking up at him. He took her hand and kissed it, then he offered her his arm as they walked on towards the dining room totally oblivious to the rest of us.

  Mother stood by my father with her mouth open. When the couple had reached the doorway, Aunt Mary looked back over her shoulder, “Irene, my dear, close your mouth, you look like a cod fish.” Father shrugged and offered Mother and I each an arm.

  At luncheon Aunt Mary and Mr Spencer’s story dominated our conversation. Mr Spencer had never married because Aunt Mary was the love of his life. They had met in Cornwall one summer when they were both very young. Mr Spencer was a young captain who had just come home from the war in America. Aunt Mary had not yet had her first season in London. She had been ill the previous winter and was sent to Cornwall for her health with an elderly cousin as a chaperon. Mr Spencer was a dashing officer who was faced with a life on half pay. As the eldest son, he could have followed in his father’s footsteps and run their prosperous farm and tin mine. But he had two brothers who were both married that could use the income that he would take from them both if he were to remain. Besides he said that he had no talent for farming and no desire to run the mine; while his brothers were well-suited to the life. So, he decided that he would rest and enjoy his family for a time before leaving for London to make his fortune. It was during that summer that he met Aunt Mary and they fell in love. He begged her to run away to London with him, but she refused. She knew that he wouldn’t be able to support them both on a Captain’s half pay and it would take time and demanding work for him to make his way in London. She feared that he would end up hating himself or her and she knew that her family would object strenuously to the match. They had enough influence to have any marriage put aside, her father was a ruthless mean-spirited man and wouldn’t hesitate to ruin Mr Spencer and his family if he put his mind to it.

  So, she gave up the love of her life to save him from ruin and he left for London devastated by her rejection. She cared very little about what would happen to her after that summer and eventually accepted an arranged marriage. It was a profitable match but without any love on either side. Her husband found consolation in a series of mistresses, but she had no one. She dedicated her life to her children, yet sadness had dogged her there as well. Her second son had died of scarlet fever in his eighth year and her daughter passed away before she was two years old of a wasting sickness. After her husband died in a hunting accident, her eldest son Dyson inherited and became a terrible trial to her. He took after his father being an ingrate and a bore. So, when her sister-in-law Alice died, she focused as much of her attention as possible on her brother’s motherless children while trying to run an estate and raise her son.

  I understand now why she had risked the General’s wrath by assisting my mother and father to marry and for keeping their secret all this time. I could also see Aunt Mary’s hand in my mother’s decision not to follow my father to France. It was only now that I could appreciate how much my mother had sacrificed for me with only occasional stolen visits with the man she so desperately loved. At least she had had more than Aunt Mary did. My heart broke for them, they all must have suffered so much.

  Chapter 6

  The Garden Gate

  Mr Spencer proved to be an entertaining guest. He knew London extremely well and knew several dubious characters that he called friends, acquaintances and snitches which interested my father immensely. After luncheon, Father and Mr Spencer adjourned to his study to discuss my uncle’s shooting further and other business.

  Mother and Aunt Mary went up to see Uncle Samuel, but I was forbidden to enter the sick room until he had passed his difficult stage. Knowing my uncle, that would involve a fair amount of swearing that young ladies should not be privy to. So, I was left to my own devices.

  I went to my room where Meg helped me change into an afternoon gown. I must admit that London w
as going to try my patience sorely with the amount of changing of clothes that took place each day. And I was afraid that Meg would end up being exhausted with all the additional work, but she assured me that she was enjoying her work here. “Everything is very modern in the house and so many unfamiliar faces to get to know, it shall be a pleasure to work here, miss.” She was so happy, in fact, that she was practically dancing around my room. “Can you imagine, miss, I have a room to myself here! It’s none as grand as yours, but because I’m a lady’s maid I don’t have to share, and I have a key to it! I can even lock the door! I can’t wait to write my mum to tell her about it, did you know that there’s even indoor plumbing and heated water right here in the house! There is no fetching water from an outside pump or carrying tins of hot water upstairs for baths!” She picked up my discarded clothes and went off to do whatever it was that maids do.

  The day was fair outside, so I grabbed my sketch book and ventured out into the garden. It wasn’t large, but it had been beautifully arranged to create the illusion of space. The wall between us and the next property was high and covered with lemon and orange espaliers. I walked about looking for a place to call my own when I discovered towards the bottom of the garden a gate in the wall. I left my drawing materials on a bench under a nearby walnut tree, so I could inspect the gate. I tried the latch, but it was locked, I looked about for a key to no avail. One of the gardeners would surely know where the key was but with a quick glance around, none were to be found.

  In my frustration, I jiggled the latch before walking away. Then a voice called from the other side of the wall. “It’s locked.”

  I stopped to address the door, “I’m aware of that now!”