Loch of the Dead

by Loch of the Dead (retail) (epub)

  38

  The following morning was sunny beyond any expectations. Loch Maree reflected the pale-blue sky, the wet stones of the mountains glimmered like mirrors and the pine trees of the islands showed sumptuous shades of green.

  The manor, however, felt as quiet and cold as a grave. Nobody went to the breakfast room (not even McGray) and I had my toast and coffee in a rush, as if that silence were chivvying me. There was still no sign of any constables arriving (and the anxious Tamlyn was less than helpful when I asked for an update), so I walked along the corridors looking for any of the Kolomans. It was time we took the situation into our own hands. We’d probably have to take McEwan’s body away, and the sooner the better. That was not a trip I was looking forward to.

  I heard voices coming from the Shadows Room – the twins, apparently in the middle of a heated argument. I went in without knocking, and nearly tripped over the edge of a rug, for the place was, as usual, in the deepest darkness. The girls were not even projecting their light spectrums.

  ‘Who’s there?’ Veronika demanded from behind the Chinese screen.

  Natalja, whom I recognized by her voice, came up to me, holding a small oil lamp.

  ‘Oh, it is you,’ she said most insolently. ‘Would you mind leaving? We’re discussing private matters.’

  I knew that was the perfect time. ‘I will leave as soon as you tell me why you two swapped places the other night.’

  Veronika dropped the box she’d been holding and crystal prisms rolled across the thick carpet. Miraculously, none shattered. Her sister hardly showed any emotion, staring at me with cold eyes. She’d surely been preparing herself for this moment.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ asked Veronika.

  I took a step forward. ‘Were you truly bitten by something, Miss Veronika? Do you have scars you did not want me to see?’ The girl could not have looked any paler, though a menacing anger was brewing in her eyes. ‘I’d rather you told me now, so that I do not have to reveal the entire affair to your parents.’

  Veronika’s chest swelled, but Natalja simply gave a wry smile. ‘Would you dare tell them . . . exactly what happened?’

  She managed to make me blush. ‘If need be,’ I said nonetheless.

  Natalja’s smile widened but I could tell she was worried. The tendons of her neck were tense, and she sported the faintest of frowns. She took a deep breath and looked sternly at her sister. Her voice came out hoarse. ‘I think it is time he knows.’

  I did not expect her sister’s reaction. Veronika jumped up, kicking the prisms away as she approached her sister to grasp her by the arm. ‘No! No, Natty, you cannot tell him! You can’t possibly –’

  ‘It is the only way, dear.’

  And all of a sudden Veronika was crying, tears rolling down her snow-white skin in streams. No wonder they were so pale, locked in this darkened room on the sunniest of days. ‘But . . .’

  It’s all right,’ Natalja said in an affectionate tone, squeezing Veronika’s hand and attempting a reassuring smile. It will all be all right. Trust me.’

  Veronika looked at me with her sodden eyes, sobbing and struggling to swallow. I felt like her executioner . . . but I had to know.

  Natalja kissed her sister’s forehead and caressed her cheek. ‘You don’t have to be here, Vee. I will confess. You should go and have a rest. Ask Mrs Glenister to bring you some green tea.’

  Veronika covered her mouth, muffling her voice. ‘Green tea,’ she repeated, and then let her sister guide her out. She threw me one last desperate stare as Natalja shut the door.

  Suddenly we were in darkness again, lit only by her lamp and by the silver lines of daylight that filtered through the edges of a poorly drawn curtain.

  ‘Shall I open that?’ I snapped. ‘I cannot stand this pointless darkness.’

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘It took me a long time to set up the room for today’s experiment. Miss Fletcher does it every morning, but not today. I imagine she fancies herself lady of the house already.’

  ‘She is your cousin’s mother,’ I said, to which she had no answer.

  ‘Have a seat,’ she offered, and we sat between the screens, face to face. Natalja placed the lamp on the low table, and the amber flame somehow made me think of the sun, floating in the black void of the universe.

  I did not speak, simply waited until she gathered courage. It would not take long.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, palms together and staring into the light, as though she were about to pray, ‘we swapped places. How did you know? We took care of every detail. I gave her my nightgown, even though we wear identical garments; I even wetted her hair with lavender water, recalling it had spilled on me from your bath.’

  I sighed. ‘She was very convincing. Quite frankly, I am not sure what made me suspect. There is something . . . in your air . . . in the way each of you moves. I cannot pinpoint what, but the difference is there. Your voices are the one thing I can instantly tell apart, but you, or rather, your sister, did not say a word in the corridor that night. I suppose your visit to my chambers was –’

  She immediately raised both hands. ‘Don’t mention that again, please. Yes, it was a ruse. The only way 1 could think of to make you uneasy so you wouldn’t notice our trick. That would justify my sister avoiding looking you in the eye. The embarrassment of –’

  ‘Do move on, miss,’ I said, feeling the embarrassment myself. ‘We have agreed there was deception. To what end?’

  She sighed deeply. ‘I . . . I had better explain it from the very start.’ She looked away. ‘I believe you saw the scullery maid, Ellie, lurking around the spot where Constable McEwan died.’

  I felt my eyebrow arching into my most quizzical look. ‘I did. How did you –’

  ‘I sent her.’

  My jaw dropped. ‘You did what?’

  She stood up and went to one of the bookcases, finding her way in the darkness with surprising ease.

  ‘I sent her there,’ she repeated as she came back. ‘I needed her to retrieve this.’

  She extended her palm to hand me a small silver case, engraved with graceful vines and grapes. It looked like a cigarette case, but I had an inkling as to its true contents.

  I opened it and found, nestled in purple velvet lining, a shiny syringe. Things began to take shape in my mind.

  ‘I have seen these before,’ I mumbled, and looked up at once, ‘years ago, in the raid of an opium house in London! Does that mean –’

  ‘Yes,’ Natalja rather snapped, then she could not look me in the eye as she whispered, ‘My sister is addicted to laudanum. She has been for a few years.’

  I remained silent for a while, staring down at the lavish syringe, engraved with matching vines to those on the case. I had seen extravagant items like that, custom-made for the more affluent patrons of the opium trade.

  ‘How did that come to be?’

  ‘She spent a couple of winters in London and Paris. Uncle Maximilian was the only family member to chaperone her. He indulged her, took her to parties no lady should attend. When she came back from her second trip she was already addicted.’

  I nodded. ‘Is that the reason your mother loathes the late Maximilian?’

  ‘Do you blame her? Mama felt so guilty when she found out. Veronika used to inject herself secretly.’ Natalja covered her face, suddenly trembling with shame. ‘In her belly, so our parents would not notice. That’s what Tamlyn saw.’

  My eyebrow was still arched. ‘Are you telling me the truth?’

  She laughed. ‘You did not really believe that something had bitten her, did you?’ I did not reply. ‘Tamlyn is our most recent employee; she came here when Veronika was already recovering, so we didn’t think she need know. All our other servants have been with us for years or decades. They are very loyal to us; they would not reveal my sister’s secret, no matter what you told them.’ She looked into my eyes, for my face was still distorted in astonishment. ‘Does it shock you that a refined upper-class gi
rl could hide something like that?’

  I blew out my cheeks. ‘Miss, I have seen the upper classes do far worse than this.’

  She gave a bitter smile. ‘That I believe.’

  ‘What astonishes me is that . . . that she looks so healthy!’

  ‘Of course she does. My mother may not have had university instruction but she is an excellent physician – far better than many preening graduates.’ If that remark was directed at me, I pretended not to take the hint. ‘Mama believes the best way to bring the addiction to an end is to do it gradually. If Veronika is disciplined, of course.’

  I instantly recalled Mrs Koloman’s words to the girl: Discipline, my dear. That has always been your downfall.

  ‘My mother takes good care of her,’ Natalja added. ‘Hence my sister’s regime of exercise and good food . . . And to appease her mind, dressmaking, science, languages, evening walks . . .’

  I nodded. That was a treatment even the erudite Dr Clouston would have approved of.

  It all rang true: the evidence, the twins’ embarrassment, the very syringe in my hand. Still, there was something that felt out of place.

  Whilst I thought, I ran my fingers over the case’s soft velvet lining. It contained only the syringe, but there was room for several vials. My finger caught something. In between the folds I saw a tiny purple crystal, like a coloured grain of sugar.

  ‘Your mother uses opiates far too liberally,’ was the first thing that came into my head. ‘She should not have applied it when your sister had that fit of pain.’

  ‘As I told you, she believes in a gradual reduction of the doses.’

  I lifted the case. ‘Yet your sister carries this with her, presumably with her reduced dose?’

  ‘Do you want me to say it a third time? Yes, she still injects laudanum! But not even nearly as much as she used to.’

  I closed the case with a soft click. ‘And that fit of pain your sister had?’

  Natalja did not reply straight away. She bit her lip and rubbed her hands together. ‘We . . . we don’t know. She . . . well, she’s had those episodes every now and then, ever since Uncle Maximilian brought her back. We don’t know what causes them, but only laudanum seems to settle her.’

  My first thought was that the girl must be faking those fits. If her mother ran to her with a laudanum syringe every time she showed pain . . . That would explain the absence of any other symptoms. It would not be the first time I had seen such behaviour, but I preferred not to mention it so bluntly. Natalja was already having a hard time confessing this.

  ‘I could put you in touch with people who have treated this type of ailment. I also told . . .’ I was about to say I’d made the same offer to Lazarus, for his family’s skin condition, but could not bring myself to finish the sentence.

  ‘Thank you,’ Natalja retorted, ‘but Mama has already looked for help elsewhere. She has found all the advice she needs.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  Natalja leaned towards me and grasped my hand. I recognized the softness of her skin, but there was nothing left of that, night’s touch, and her cold fingers sent a shiver across my body.

  ‘Please, do not tell my mother you know. She’d die of shame!’

  ‘Miss Koloman –’

  ‘Veronika is very healthy; you said it yourself. Why torment us all?’

  The girl was desperate, and I had already intruded far more than I would have ever intended, so I did not insist. However, Veronika’s condition would remain in my mind. I might even tell Uncle Maurice to try to talk to her, charm her into admitting she’d been enacting those seizures.

  ‘Very well, miss. I will not trouble you further.’

  As I stood up I shoved the case in my pocket.

  ‘Can I have that back?’ Natalja asked, stretching out her hand.

  ‘I shall keep it for the time being, if you don’t mind.’

  Her face went stern. ‘I do mind.’

  I half smiled. ‘And I only said if you don’t mind out of good manners.’

  She growled in frustration. ‘Very well.’

  I went to the door but halted before my hand touched the handle. There was a burning question that no amount of prudery or good upbringing could repress. I looked back. ‘Miss Natalja . . . What . . . what would you have done if I’d given in? That night, I mean.’

  She cackled. ‘Do not think yourself so lucky. I had planned to burst into tears and feign a sudden bout of remorse. That would have been better for our plan; it would have made you feel even more guilt.’ She gave me a sardonic smile. ‘Quite frankly, we never expected you’d refuse . . . so categorically.’

  I was already sorry I’d asked, so I opened the door swiftly.

  ‘If it helps,’ she said, for once with a hint of shyness, ‘I respect you a little more after that.’

  39

  ‘Do ye believe them?’ McGray asked as we walked along the path through the rhododendrons. I did not want anybody to hear us as I recounted Natalja’s confession.

  ‘Everything makes sense,’ I said, ‘everything except that abdominal pain.’

  ‘Which ye said she might be faking.’

  ‘It is possible. Addicts are known for being crafty. Then again, if it is a genuine condition . . .’

  ‘Don’t fret too much over it, Frey. Ye’ve offered help. If they refuse it, it’s their own sodding problem.’

  I looked at the manor, recalling how grand and beautiful I’d thought it was when I first saw it. It had been only three days ago, but it already felt like another era. How could I have guessed that such a sumptuous place would hold those terrible secrets?

  And we were about to learn much more.

  ‘What a bleeding useless bunch of prats!’ Dominik cried, sucking on a cigarette with unsettling anxiety. We had just told him the constables had not come yet. ‘And when those halfwits do arrive they’ll only ask the same damn stupid questions you already have, and this bloody charade will never end!’

  ‘Just eat yer damn food,’ McGray grumbled as young Ellie cleared away last night’s tray.

  ‘I want my freedom!’ Dominik shouted, and then smashed the cigarette on the table, grinding tobacco into polished mahogany with his bare hand – even the ignited tip. He dropped into his armchair, quivering.

  I checked my pocket watch. ‘Your father asked that Smeaton chap to ready the carriage for us. The man, unfortunately, is taking his bloody time. As soon as we can set off and take the corpse –’

  ‘You have to let me out!’ Dominik interrupted. It was not a request but a statement. He snorted and pulled at his hair. ‘Even if just for a stroll. Five minutes will do. It’s been three bloody days! This damned room is stifling me!’

  McGray let out a loud cackle. ‘Awww, yer bloody huge manor is stifling ye? Ye have yer soddin’ goose-down pillows, yer unlimited supply o’ wine and fancy food . . . ye even have fuckin’ indoor plumbing in yer room! I bet even fat Queen Vicky still has to squat over a potty every now ‘n’ then.’

  ‘You don’t understand. I need air.’

  McGray pointed his chin at the drawn curtains. ‘Then crack the damned window open,’ and he turned to the door as Dominik shouted to our backs.

  ‘I’m sick of staring at that bloody loch! You have to let me out!’ He protested further, but we were too tired to pay attention. We made our way through the door and were about to shut it when Dominik finally gave in.

  ‘I will speak!’

  McGray and I froze. We turned back to him, puzzled.

  ‘If that’s what it takes to escape from this cell, I will speak! Do you want to know why Calcraft and I went out that night?’

  ‘The whole truth?’ Nine-Nails asked. ‘And nothing but the truth?’

  Dominik’s mouth was dry, his bare chest moving like bellows. ‘Yes.’

  We stepped back in. McGray looked at the young maid. ‘Leave us, lassie.’ And he closed the door behind her. He and I sat in the plush armchairs, and McGray pressed his fingertips to
gether. ‘We’re listening.’

  Dominik was trembling. He tore a page from his little Bible – from the book of Revelation, how fitting – and began to roll a cigarette. His eyes were glinting as if he were about to cry.

  ‘There is a reason I travel all the time,’ he began, making a mess of tobacco on the table. ‘There is a reason I spend most of my time jumping from country to country . . . with –’ He only managed to drop uneven clumps of tobacco on the paper, but he rolled it up nonetheless. He could not bring himself to finish the sentence until he’d lit the twisted cigarette. ‘With Calcraft.’

  His trembling tone said everything I needed to know. I saw McGray’s lips part, taking in a short, surprised breath. He too had guessed what Dominik was about to say, but we needed to hear it from his own lips. ‘Continue.’

  Dominik took anxious puffs, exhaling the smoke noisily.

  ‘I . . . I believe the legal term is . . . gross indecency?’

  He pronounced the words with mockery, wrinkling his nose as he smoked. Then he poured himself a good measure of wine and downed it in two long gulps. We did not speak until he put the glass down.

  ‘Have you told anybody else?’ I asked.

  Dominik shook his head. ‘Nobody. But my parents must suspect. My mother loathes Calcraft. He did ridicule Miss Fletcher at the time of her predicament, but a few lewd comments cannot justify her utter aversion.’

  ‘And yer dad?’ McGray said.

  ‘My dad,’ Dominik echoed, his voice oozing bitterness. ‘Why do you think he is so keen to welcome Benjamin? He won’t see the family name die so easily.’ He crushed the end of his cigarette. ‘Benjamin Koloman sounds revolting.’

  I sighed, my exhalation gradually turning into a tired moan. Things were not getting simpler. ‘Dominik, you have just confessed to illicit behaviour. Those acts are banned by law.’

  ‘Better to be prosecuted for gross indecency than for murder.’ Dominik smirked. ‘Besides, I trust you two won’t mention this at the inquest.’

  McGray crossed his arms. ‘Do ye?’

  ‘Yes. My confession is helping your investigations. Lazarus is now your only suspect.’