by Lisa Tuttle
“Another visitor?” said Bella. “Who is it, Gabriel?”
The big black bird cocked his head at her and made another sound. One might almost have said he spoke—and from the smile that blossomed on the face of his mistress, she understood.
She went to the window and looked out. “Yes, that is Mr. Ott’s carriage. What good timing—I’ll tell Nancy to put the kettle on.” With a giddy laugh, she swept out of the room.
She was like a young girl with her first suitor—she was a woman in love. I exchanged a look with Mr. Jesperson. “Shall we make our excuses and leave?”
“No. I have some information to share—may as well tell everyone at once.”
“Something new?”
“Yes. I had a cable this morning—the very one I have been waiting for—and—” He stopped. “There was no chance to tell you first—I hope you do not mind?”
I did, just a little, but as it was not his fault I had been so late in rising, I assured him it did not matter in the least.
A few moments later, Felix Ott followed a becomingly pink-cheeked Miss Bulstrode into the room.
Mr. Jesperson was already on his feet, bowing, and so perhaps he did not see the annoyance that suffused Mr. Ott’s face upon his discovery that he was not Miss Bulstrode’s first visitor of the day, but I took it all in.
“Jesperson, what the d—I mean to say, I did not expect to find you here!”
Bella laid a gentle hand upon Mr. Ott’s arm. “Felix, you know that Miss Lane is our guest. Mr. Jesperson came to call on her.” How quickly, I thought, she accepted the role of his helpmeet, and took it upon herself to soothe and explain, as if he were a child.
“Yes, I came to tell Miss Lane we will return to London today, now that we have resolved the question of the reason for Charles Manning’s untimely death,” Jesperson said coolly.
“You have?” cried Miss Bulstrode.
Ott stared. “What do you mean?”
“I shall explain, as soon as we are all together. Miss Bulstrode, would you be so kind as to ask your sisters to join us?”
I resumed my seat when Bella went out, but the two gentlemen remained standing, each taking the other’s measure, as if about to duel.
“You might have spoken to me about this first,” muttered Mr. Ott.
“Why?”
“Before intruding upon a young lady’s grief with your dreadful stories…”
Mr. Jesperson cocked his head. “She has a right to know the truth.”
“Perhaps, but what you bring is mere gossip—speculation—a story you have cobbled together—you cannot possibly know the whole truth.”
My friend smiled ironically. “Are not there always gaps in our understanding? I suspect that most of the details you wish kept hidden from the young lady are already known to her. Miss Lane’s observations have suggested she is troubled more by feelings of guilt than grief.”
Mr. Ott’s eyes positively bulged, and he sucked in his breath. “Sir! Surely you do not mean to suggest—”
The opening of the door cut him off, but he continued to direct a horrified stare at Mr. Jesperson as the three sisters entered with much rustling of skirts, the younger two pale and nervous. Bella held Ann’s hand, and all three crowded together on the small sofa.
Mr. Jesperson remained standing to address us. “First, a revelation, or you might call it a confession. As Mr. Ott already knows, Miss Lane and I are partners in a detective agency. We kept this particular bit of information from you, but everything else we have told you is true. We did witness the death of Charles Manning as Miss Lane described, and were sent here by Mr. Alexander Manning to discover, if we could, the circumstances that led up to his brother’s death.
“Poison was suspected, but an autopsy revealed no trace of the usual culprits. The contents of his stomach included copious amounts of alcohol, and the substance of his last meal: oysters, rare beefsteak, and ginger cake.”
I saw Alys flinch at that, and Ann closed her eyes briefly.
“An odd meal,” Mr. Jesperson went on in a musing voice. “What did it signify? I had inquiries made at various oyster houses, but no one recalled serving him; I was unable to get any further in the matter of where he ate, or with whom, in the hours before his death, but the food itself was suggestive. Oysters are well known as an aphrodisiac; rare beef is likewise invigorating, and as for the ginger cake…” He shrugged. “Ginger is said to warm the blood and inflame the passions; although it is generally prescribed raw, perhaps Charles did not know, or thought it would be better to have it in a cake than not at all. Was he very fond of cakes, Miss Ann?” He fired the final question suddenly.
Ann blinked rapidly, opened her mouth, but was unable to speak.
“It is a simple question,” said Mr. Jesperson, gently now. “Surely you know if your fiancé was fond of cakes and other sweet things?”
“Not particularly.” It was Alys rather than Ann who answered. “Mr. Charles did not have much of a sweet tooth—he drank tea without sugar. But he did like my ginger cake.”
“Did you take your ginger cake to him in London?”
Alys lifted her chin. “It was for Ann. It was her cake. He helped himself, without a by-your-leave. That’s the sort of man he was.”
“This was in London? Did he ask you to meet him there?”
“It was me!” Ann cried out. She wriggled until she had freed herself from the mild restraints of her sisters’ arms. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and she trembled, but her color was high and she looked in no danger of fainting. “Charles said he loved me and he couldn’t bear to wait—he wanted to elope, but I would not, I wanted to have a lovely wedding, and it takes time to do things properly. He could not afford to get married for at least a year, or two or three—that is what Bella said. We should need a house of our own, and it takes a lot of money to rent and furnish and run even a very modest home.” She took a deep breath.
“He pretended to agree with Bella, but afterward he told me that waiting was harder on a man than on a woman, it was unfair; he said he would let me set the date, and he would work with might and main to make enough money to support me as I deserved, but I must do something for him. He asked me to meet him in London.”
“She is such an innocent,” said Alys. “I could not let her go there alone.”
“I was not supposed to tell anyone,” said Ann sadly.
“You were quite right to tell me.”
“He bought me a first-class ticket and he gave me money to take a cab from the terminus to the Midland Grand Hotel.”
I thought of the imposing building beside St. Pancras Station, only a short walk from our premises on Gower Street.
“Where he had reserved a room for ‘Miss Smith,’ ” her sister put in with a bitter twist to her mouth. “He said he chose the pseudonym to protect your privacy. They were a little bit surprised when two ‘Miss Smiths’ turned up, but I said it was clearly a misunderstanding, because Mr. Manning would never have asked his fiancée to travel unaccompanied. No honest gentleman would have expected you to conceal such a plan from your sisters.”
Ann blinked and sniffed, and two bright lines of liquid ran down her face as the welling tears at last spilled over. Bella, her mouth set in a grim line, gave her a handkerchief and, flashing her eyes at us, said in a low voice, “Is this really necessary? Ann is very sorry; we are all very sorry to have been so mistaken in his character, but the man is dead now—may we not let him rest in peace?”
Mr. Jesperson remained undisturbed, replying, “Indeed, I hope we may, after we have learned the truth. Please continue, Miss Ann.”
After she had wiped away her tears, the youngest sister took up the story again. “Alys and I were shown into a set of rooms—a parlor and bedroom, very spacious and nicely furnished. After a little while a waiter came up with a bottle of champagne and oysters on ice—on instruction from Mr. Manning, he said.” She wrinkled her nose. “I hate oysters! I don’t know how anyone can bear to eat th
e slimy things! Alys told him to take them away and bring us a pot of tea and sandwiches instead.”
Ann shook her head. “I didn’t want anything—I was too excited to eat, wondering when Charles would arrive. I was glad to have Alys with me.” She looked fondly at her sister and squeezed her hand. “Even though Charles was so cross about it—he was as red as a cherry and puffing like a steam engine when he saw I was not alone!”
“When was this?”
“He arrived about the same time as the tea and sandwiches. That made him cross—he had ordered oysters and champagne, he shouted, not tea and cake!”
Mr. Jesperson’s gaze sharpened. “There was cake?”
“I already told you,” said Alys reprovingly.
“It was our cake,” said Ann. “And despite his bad temper, he did eat a piece of it and washed it down with tea while he waited for the waiter to bring back the champagne and oysters.”
“What else did he do?”
“He took out a sachet of powder, and when the champagne came, he mixed it into three glasses and ordered us to drink. He said it might warm our cold hearts. He drank one glass off himself, immediately, and when we did not follow his lead he became quite abusive. His language was vile—he was like a different person.”
“And did you drink?”
Ann shuddered and shook her head. “After a while, he drank them both himself. And he tried to make Alys leave—he begged, he pleaded, and then he threatened. But dear Alys would not leave me alone with him in such a state! I began to realize that he did not love me at all—the things he said were so very dreadful.” Her pale cheeks had gradually darkened as the memories intensified, and now she pressed her fingers against them.
“I whispered to Alys to take me away, but he barred the door. He said if he could not have me alone, he would have us both.” The tears again rolled down her face, and at last she subsided into shuddering sobs, leaning against one sister and embraced by them both.
Mr. Jesperson began to prowl about the room. “Thank you,” he said. “Please forgive me for putting you through such a strain, Miss Ann, but it was necessary for me to understand the situation.”
He stopped and faced us again. “The powder that Manning drank in champagne was sold to him by Cunning Verrell. I managed to purchase what I believe to be the same ‘special mixture’ and gave it to a chemist to analyze. I received his report today.”
Reaching into his vest pocket, he extracted a piece of paper, which he unfolded. “The contents included Atropa belladonna—Mandragora officinarum—Amanita muscaria—Cantharis vesicatoria—”
Bella leapt to her feet, crying, “That compound is lethal—Verrell is a murderer!”
Felix Ott was quick to seize her by the arms, imploring her to be calm, and at his movement Alys forgot all about her younger sister and jumped up in a fury to attack him, crying, “Leave my Bella alone!”
The crow added to the general pandemonium, flapping about the room emitting raucous cries.
The upheaval quickly subsided as the ingrained decorum of the English lady and gentleman prevailed. Felix Ott fell back, apologizing profusely for any misunderstanding; Bella assured him no harm had been done and told Alys to behave herself; and in a matter of moments, everyone had resumed their accustomed seats—except Gabriel, who now perched on Bella’s left shoulder, and turned his glossy head this way and that, as if to warn all those his eye fell upon that they should feel the power of his beak and claws if they dared to disturb his beloved mistress.
Mr. Jesperson cleared his throat. “Ahem, yes, as Miss Bulstrode recognized, most of the ingredients I named are indeed poisonous—but as I am sure she also knows, the amount is a significant factor; minute doses of Atropa belladonna, for example, may actually have a beneficial effect, although too much is fatal. It causes dilated pupils—which we noticed in Mr. Manning—hallucinations, ditto—aggressive behavior—to which Miss Ann and Miss Alys have borne witness—and an increased heart rate.
“Mandragora or mandrake also causes hallucinations and can affect the heart.
“Cantharis vesicatoria, better known as Spanish fly, is the most famous of all so-called aphrodisiacs—although its effects upon the body are painful and unpleasant—but whereas in larger doses it may be fatal, Mr. Manning did not die from that.
“And I should say, in defense of Cunning Verrell, that a single dose of his mixture would not have caused the death of even a smaller, weaker man than Charles Manning. Verrell is specific about how much is to be taken at any one time, and even advises the man to halve the dose and share it with his lady in a glass of wine. My investigations suggest that the cunning man would be unlikely to sell a customer more than two or three of these mixtures at one time, but perhaps Manning managed to wheedle more out of him. Certainly, he ignored the warnings he was given and consumed the entire lot himself, in a single evening. Is it fair to blame the cunning man for his customer’s suicidal stupidity?”
Bella exhaled a long, soft sigh. “Charles was the instrument of his own destruction.”
“I believe so,” said Mr. Jesperson. “From Ann’s description, he was already under the influence before he arrived at the hotel, and then he took another dose. He was, I venture to say, in a state of self-loathing, having made the vicious decision to destroy a young woman’s innocence and happiness through an act of brutality.”
“But why?” Bella stared at him. “I do not understand. If he loved her—”
“He did not love me,” said Ann. “I saw that, finally. If he had loved me, I would have done whatever he asked. But what I saw in that hotel room…He despised me.” She stared bleakly at nothing.
Alys groaned. “You are romantic, Ann, but he was not. Love had nothing to do with it. You had something he wanted, and he meant to have it, by hook or by crook. If he ruined you, you would have to marry him. If he put you in the family way, even better.”
“But why did he want to marry me, if not for love?”
“It is not as if Ann has any serious expectations,” said Bella. “She might eventually inherit this house from me, but surely Mr. Manning was not so wicked as to have been planning to kill me and both my sisters for a small property in rural Norfolk?” She looked inquiringly at Mr. Jesperson, who turned rather dramatically to gaze at Mr. Ott.
The head of the School of British Wisdom shifted in his chair, gave an audible sigh, and said, rather haltingly, “Perhaps I may shed some light on this distressing matter. I rather fear that some of Manning’s actions—at least at first—may have been, er, performed in the misguided hope of pleasing me.”
Gaining in confidence as he made the decision to tell all, he continued:
“When I first arrived in the area, I had my sights fixed upon Wayside Cross, not only for the library, but because I had heard that the mistress of the house was a wisewoman, called by some a witch—and thus, I felt certain, she was the inheritor of an ancient tradition. I was keen to enlist Miss Bulstrode in my School—I had visions of her as the head of the distaff side, as it were; the representative of traditions and knowledge traditionally reserved to females, and therefore on an equal footing with me.”
With a rueful smile, he said, “Of course, my ‘plans’ were made without reference to the real Miss Bulstrode—and when we did meet, I fear she was not very impressed with me.”
“Oh, Felix, that is not so!” cried the lady, and as their eyes met there was almost a chemical reaction; the very atmosphere of the room changed. Gabriel abruptly launched himself from Bella’s shoulder and flapped noisily across the room to perch on the bookshelf.
The movement of the bird startled us all into moving or laughing; it was only a moment, yet it lightened the mood.
Mr. Ott smiled as he continued: “In any event, I fell deeply in love with Miss Bulstrode, and although I still wished—more fervently than ever—to win her support for my School, this was secondary to my personal desire to make her my wife. I hope you do not mind, Bella, if I say it so publicly?”
“It is not so very public,” she replied, blushing slightly. “My sisters already know, and perhaps our detectives may have deduced something of our feelings for each other.”
He gave a short nod. “I proposed and was rejected. Miss Bulstrode said that although she appreciated my friendship, she had taken an oath of celibacy, being dedicated to her work of healing. Nor could she agree to take any official part in my School, feeling it, too, would be a distraction from her career. Well, I was deeply disappointed—I cannot pretend otherwise.”
His shoulders slumped and he looked down at the floor. “My disappointment led me to behave very badly. I did not take my dismissal as a gentleman. Foolishly, I shared something of my feelings with Manning, who was, I fear, a very worshipful young man, when it came to myself. He admired me to an extreme…and it was balm to my soul, especially after the rejection. But I was less than honest with him, too, speaking of the loss to the School, rather than of my own personal heartbreak. If I had not…”
“You cannot mean that he thought he could make it up to you by marrying one of my sisters?” Bella spoke in tones of shocked disbelief.
Ott shrugged uncomfortably. “Well…I think he felt that through him, the School should have a claim on your library.”
“That is absurd. He could use the library whenever he liked—indeed, he often did. And he needed no family connection for that—why, Miss Lane will confirm, we had a stranger here for several hours only the other day.”
Ott sighed. “Really, I am only trying to make sense of his action. I am not trying to justify it; it cannot be justified. Somehow, he expected my gratitude and approval. He thought he was doing something great for the School. It may have had something to do with his mystical notions of bloodlines—he was thrilled to imagine he could forge a link between himself and a family that could trace its descent back to the old religion.”
“We are not Roman Catholics,” Alys exclaimed. “Is that what he thought?”
“I believe Mr. Ott refers to a much more ancient, pagan faith,” said Mr. Jesperson.