“But my shilling, to spend as I chose.” Darwin’s voice took on a more thoughtful tone, and he went on, “A shilling spent, not wasted. You see, Jacob, there is a hidden calculus, not recognized yet by our philosophers but perceived instinctively by many financiers. Knowledge is a close relative to money, just as money is related to knowledge.”
Pole flopped down to sit on his travelling chest. “Damn it, ’Rasmus, you’re getting too deep for me. Money leads to knowledge, eh? So what knowledge did your shilling just buy from yon lad?”
“I do not yet know.” Darwin shrugged his heavy shoulders. “As I said, it is not a recognized calculus, and its working rules have still to be established.”
“Then for the moment I’ll hang on to my shilling.” Pole nodded toward the bench, where Georgie was gesturing urgently to Darwin and pointing along the road. “Here’s what you got for yours.”
Approaching the coach house on foot was a dark-clad figure holding a leather gun case. His long overcoat was marked in front with pale brown stains, and he wore a round hat with a rim pulled low to shield his single eye from the bright sun. A black patch covered the other eye, and bushy brows and a full black beard emphasized rather than concealed thick lips, red and glistening. The man’s complexion was very dark, adding credence to the idea that the remnants of the defeated Armada had two centuries earlier discharged their exhausted Spanish crews onto the Cornish coast. The coachman took in Darwin, Pole, and luggage with one swift glance, nodded a greeting at the boy, and strode on through into the coach house.
Two minutes later he was back from behind the building, driving a two-horse cabriolet with a modified wooden body. He held the reins lightly and the team was fresh and frisky, but the coach wheeled smartly around to stop precisely at the pile of luggage.
He jumped down from the driver’s seat and grinned at his passengers with a rapid gleam of white teeth. “Jack Trelawney, at your service. Dunwell Cove or Lacksworth, sirs? Or are you for Dunwell Hall?”
The voice, like the man’s actions, was quick and economical, lacking the Cornwall burr. The brown eye scanned the two men, head to toe. Without waiting for an answer he bent to hoist the medical chest to the rear of the coach.
“Dunwell Cove. The Anchor Inn.” Darwin had done his own share of rapid observation. Jack Trelawney was of medium height and build, but he had lofted the heavy chest with no sign of effort. The tendons on the backs of his work-hardened brown hands stood out as he lifted, showing in white contrast to fingers and nails yellow-stained on their end joints as by heavy and prolonged use of tobacco.
“Very well.” Trelawney had just as rapidly loaded the other luggage. “We have a light load today, and you are the only passengers. Payment before we start, if you do not mind. Thank you, sirs.” He pocketed the money without seeming to look at it and gestured them to board.
“I think maybe a ride in front, with the weather so improved.” Darwin moved to stand close to Jack Trelawney, then paused and frowned. “What do you say, Jacob?”
“Not for me. I’m still thawing out.”
“Oh, very well. Then I’ll keep you company.” Darwin swung open the door of the coach and led the way inside. He waited until the door was closed. Trelawney had climbed up front in the driver’s seat, and the two-wheeled cabriolet was on the move. Then he was out of his place again.
“Devil take it, Erasmus, can’t you sit still for a second?” Pole, in the act of taking out pipe and tobacco, was forced to stop, because Darwin was leaning right over him, examining doors and windows. “What are you up to?”
“Looking for a way for the phantom to enter.” Grunting with effort, Darwin progressed from ceiling to floor, and was soon on hands and knees peering under the seats.
“For God’s sake! If you think the phantom hides away under there, and pops out when nobody’s looking…”
“I do not.” Darwin, hands and sleeves filthy with cobwebs and old dust, finally climbed back to his feet and dropped into his seat facing Pole. “A modification to the original vehicle, with well-fitting doors and windows. It would please my friend Richard Edgeworth, because it is not of conventional design. But it is soundly made. Be silent for a moment, Jacob. I wish to listen.”
Jacob Pole sat, straining his own ears. “I don’t hear a thing.”
“You do. Listen. That is the squeak of coach bodywork. And all the time there is the clatter of the wheels over hard surface. That snort was one of the horses, hard-breathing.”
“Of course I hear those. But they are just noises. I mean, there’s nothing to listen to.”
He had lost his audience, because Darwin was up again, this time opening a window. He stuck his head out, peering in all directions.
“The coast road, of course.” His bulk filled the opening and his voice sounded muffled. “Typical Cornwall, granite, slate and feldspar. But St. Austell has reason to be glad of that, for without decomposed feldspar there would be no treasure house of china clay. Furze, broom, and scabgrass. Poor soil. And I note lapwings, terns, and an abundance of gulls. Forty yards from road to cliffs, and beyond them a drop to the sea. Very good. And now for the other side.” He was across the coach in two steps, to open the window there.
“Are you all right, sir?”
Jack Trelawney’s voice, calling from the front of the coach, showed that he had noticed the activity within.
“Perfectly well. Enjoying the scenery and the weather.” Darwin stayed for half a minute, then closed the window and slid back to his seat. “Rising ground to the right, we’re on the edge of a little moor. More granite, of course, and no sign of people. I doubt that the ground here is very fertile.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Pole sniffed, and continued stuffing his pipe. “I didn’t know you were thinking of setting up farming here, or planting a flower garden. And I’m wondering what you are proposing to tell Milly and Kathleen. They have as little interest as I do in a catalog of local muds and rocks, and still less in the Cornish bestiary.”
“I am not proposing, initially, to tell anything. It would be premature. I intend first to ask questions. As for an inspection of the surroundings and setting of Dunwell Hall and Dunwell Cove, we are seeking to explain a strange event. And any event, no matter how strange, inhabits a natural environment, which must itself reside within limits set by the physically possible. Therefore, we must first establish those bounding conditions.”
“Aye. And after that?”
“After that we will meet the phantom; and, as Shakespeare puts it, ‘give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.’ ”
Darwin’s tone was cheerful and confident, but Jacob Pole merely shook his head. The rest of the ride went in silence, one man smoking and the other deep in thought, until the motion of the coach slowed. Jack Trelawney rapped hard on the front of the partition.
“Dunwell Cove. What about the luggage, sir?”
“Place it all inside the inn.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” In less than a minute Trelawney had bags and medical chest down and within the door of the inn. “Be by tomorrow, about eight of the morning,” he said. And then, before Darwin and Pole had time to turn, he was back up onto the footboard of the coach and rolling away down the road.
“Not one for wasting time,” said Pole gruffly. But there was no further chance to comment on Jack Trelawney’s departure, because the inn door was opening again, and a woman emerged.
“Cousin!” She ran forward and gave Pole a hearty hug, then turned to his companion. “And here is the great Dr. Darwin. Exactly as I imagined you from Jacob’s descriptions, but much more handsome.”
“And you, madam, are much more beautiful.” Darwin offered his hand, at the same time as he gave Pole an accusing side-glance. “I have seldom seen so fair a complexion or so engaging a smile. Indeed, were it not for the color of your hair, I would mistake you for your own daughter, Kathleen.”
“Now, sir!” Milly Meredith was fair, short, and plump, with red cheeks and lively
blue eyes. She dimpled at the compliment, then shook her head. “Although neither Kathleen nor I is able to smile much at the moment. If you will come inside, I have something new that I must show you.”
She led the way. The interior of the Anchor Inn was dim-lit, since the glazed windows were small and the frugal innkeeper would offer no oil lights until darkness forced it. But the table was set, and at Milly’s nod a stout woman in a flowered skirt headed at once for the kitchen.
Milly sat by the window and invited the two men to take seats across from her at the long bench. “Your room is ready upstairs, but I thought that after your long journey you might welcome a meal. I hope that travel has not spoiled your appetite.”
“Not in the least.” Darwin placed himself opposite Milly. “I am famished, and look forward to dinner with the liveliest anticipation.”
“I fear that it will be fare less fancy than you are accustomed to. Only Cornish pasties, with potatoes, leeks, pickled onions, and pickled cauliflowers.”
“It sounds excellent—and I will not inquire as to what form of meat may be in the pasty. There is an old Cornish saying, madam: ‘The Devil will not come into Cornwall, for fear of being made into a pie.’ ”
Milly Meredith laughed, but Darwin sensed the undercurrent of anxiety within the sound and went on, “Perhaps we can dispose of serious concerns before dinner, ma’am. First, you mentioned that there is something new?”
Milly glanced around before she answered. “New, and most disturbing.” She reached into the waistband of her skirt, pulled out a folded piece of yellow paper, and handed it across the table to Darwin. “Two days ago, I discovered this within my sewing kit.”
He opened it and read aloud, while Pole leaned across to see the paper. “ ‘Kathleen must on no account marry Brandon Dunwell. If you value your daughter’s health and happiness, make sure the wedding does not take place.’ That is all? No other message, no envelope?”
“Nothing.”
“And Kathleen?”
“Knows nothing of this. She returns in the morning.” Milly drew in a deep breath, and her lips trembled. “I have been so tormented, wondering if she should be told.”
“Not unless some purpose is served by doing so. I deem it premature to burden her with this. In fact, if it is possible to avoid any involvement of Kathleen in my actions, I will do so.” Darwin looked again at the note, and his face became perplexed. “Before this note I had been pursuing a certain line of thinking, which must now perhaps be abandoned. May I keep this?”
“Of course. But Dr. Darwin, what should I do? The wedding is in five days, the guests are arriving, the plans proceeding. Brandon is arriving later today, to discuss more arrangements with me.”
“What time do you expect him?”
“Soon.” She glanced out of the window. “Before dark. He has an aversion to the night. But before he comes, may we talk? Dr. Darwin, I am desperate, and desperately worried. Jacob assures me that you are the most learned man in the whole of Europe, and the wisest. Tell me what I must do, and I promise that I will follow your advice.”
“Until I have had the opportunity for more thought concerning this new missive, I am not sure that I am equipped to offer advice. But let me hold for the moment to my original idea. Let us consider the phantom. I realize that you were not visited by that phenomenon in your own journeys from St. Austell, but I would like you to think hard, and to recall the circumstances in which the robberies took place. What can you tell me of each, beyond what you described to Jacob in your letter?”
“I will try.” Milly sat for a moment, her rounded forehead broken by frown lines. “January 15th, the first occasion. The coach left St. Austell about five, just as dark came on, and reached Dunwell Hall a little before seven. The evening was clear and cold, and we had been wondering if it would snow, which it did not. But the second and third times were very different. On January 23rd we had an absolute deluge of rain, and the coach arrived in mid-afternoon with all the luggage soaked. The passengers also complained of being slightly wet, but their main concern was with the loss of their valuables. And on January 28th, the last appearance of the phantom, the weather was a cold, ugly fog, and the day hardly seemed to become light from morning to night. The coach again arrived at Dunwell Hall in mid-afternoon. And its occupants had again been robbed.”
“Strange indeed. Do you know, had they enjoyed a meal while on the coach? Or perhaps shortly before leaving St. Austell.”
“I am sure that the last group at least did not. When they arrived here they were in high good humor, except that they pronounced themselves famished to the point where hunger was making them positively queasy.”
“Indeed?” Darwin raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “No food or drink. Then I must think again, and set another notion in train. Is there any other circumstance that you deem worthy of mention?”
“Not really. I was not actually present on those coach journeys, you see, and everything was related to me secundus rather than primus. But all agree, the coach did not stop. Nor did anyone enter it. I am sorry, but that is all I can tell you.”
“Sorry? For what?” Darwin was anything but displeased. “If only my patients described their symptoms with such brevity and clarity, the practice of medicine would be a good deal easier.”
The food was at last arriving, and Darwin halted his questioning while it was being served. Jacob Pole and Milly Meredith chatted, catching up on family matters, while Darwin ate heartily, stared at nothing, and from time to time looked again at the note in front of him.
“Health and happiness,” he muttered at last. “No food or drink. Happiness and health. How strange. Mrs. Meredith, I would very much like to meet Brandon Dunwell, even if only for a few moments. Could you perhaps introduce me, as a friend of yours?”
“Dr. Darwin, Jacob has told me so much of you, I consider you as such a friend.”
“Then you must call me Erasmus, not Dr. Darwin. And you should begin doing so at once. It must appear natural by the time that Brandon Dunwell arrives.”
“Very well. Erasmus.” Milly glanced from him to Jacob Pole and back. Her cheeks turned a brighter pink. “There is one problem. You are not on the list of guests for the wedding. Brandon would accept your presence the more readily if he thought—if we were to somehow suggest—that you were here for other reasons. That you had come, perhaps, because you and I—”
“Say no more. He will learn that I am interested in Millicent Meredith, as any sensible man would be interested.”
“And you must call me Milly.”
“I already think of you that way.” Darwin bowed gallantly, as far as his girth and the table top permitted. “Milly, if it will not disturb your meal, I would like to ask a question or two concerning friend Brandon. He seems to keep curious hours. Do you happen to know why he pursues activities only in the daytime?”
“I have no idea, but it was not always so. Brandon today is sober, quiet, and serious. Years ago, from what I have heard, it was very different. He indulged in gambling, and drinking, and hard living, and was out to all hours.”
“But you are sure that he has abandoned that style of living?”
“Quite sure. I would not normally have mentioned his earlier actions at all, since they are so inconsistent with his behavior today.”
“You were right to do so. I compliment you. It is a rare intelligence, Milly, who answers what a man means, rather than what he asks.” Darwin cocked his head at a sound from outside. “Is that a horse?”
“Brandon, for a certainty. I recognize the harness bells.” Milly stared about her. “Doctor—Erasmus—I hope I do not betray your interests. I am new to deception.”
Darwin reached across and gripped her hand in his. “It is like sin, Milly. Improvement comes rapidly with practice.” He deliberately held on, until the door opened and a newcomer stood at the threshold, a brown basset hound at his side. The dog sniffed at Darwin’s luggage, still standing just inside the entrance, and wag
ged its tail.
“Sit, Harvey.” The man waited until the dog sank to its belly, then propelled himself into the room with an almost spasmodic surge of energy. His heels clattered on the floor, as though he was deliberately stamping them. Milly Meredith sprang to her feet with a matching urgency.
“Brandon, this is my friend, Erasmus Darwin.” Her blush could have come equally well from embarrassment or knowledge of deception. “He will be staying here for a few days.”
But Brandon Dunwell showed little interest in Darwin. He nodded a greeting, blinking pale, tired eyes, and moved at once to the window. He leaned forward toward Milly, gripping the edge of the table.
“Kathleen has not yet returned?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Good. For her sake, I would like to discuss certain financial arrangements for the wedding without her presence.” He paused, and stared pointedly at Darwin and Pole.
Darwin nodded reassuringly at Milly Meredith. “Our journey here was a long one. If you will excuse us, Milly, Jacob and I will retire. We need rest.”
He led the way, off up the curving wooden staircase. He and Pole were sharing a room under the eaves with two beds. Between them stood a dresser bearing a large bowl and a jug of water. Darwin went across and drank directly from the pitcher, then sat heavily on one of the beds. He pulled out the yellow paper and stared at it.
“Pox on this, ’Rasmus.” Jacob Pole was over by the window, prowling the bare boards. “I’m sorry. I bring you here for one mystery, and Milly hits you with another before you’re halfway in the front door.”
“This, you mean?” Darwin tapped the paper. “It will help, Jacob, not hinder. There is surely only one mystery underlying all events, and a concatenation of strange events reduces the possibilities.”
“You mean you know what this is all about?”
But Darwin merely sniffed and puffed out his cheeks. He was silent for a long time, until finally Pole said, “Well, if you’re going to sit in a stupor I’d better have the cases brought up.”
The Amazing Dr. Darwin Page 13