A Study in Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 4)

by Ichabod Temperance

  What’s this in my pocket? Oh yeah, it’s that heavy duty ladle for difficult soup. I like the the thumb lever. It could be useful in a number of applications. That London detective was hankering for some tools to help in his investigation. He wanted a magnifying glass. I betcha with my familiarity in goggle design, I could whoop up a little something that he would really like. I think I could add some features that he might appreciate, just in case we ever run into him again.

  “Let’s see if I have everything I need. Ladle, lens, ‘lectrics. Yessir, thought ought to do her.”

  - - -

  “Good morning, Mr. Temperance.”

  “Good morning, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am.”

  “Did you sleep well, sir?”

  “Not a lot, but good enough, I reckon. I had a little project I was working on in my room between sentry watches with the boys. How about you?”

  “Mine was a restless night. I thought I would assist Miss Wallaby with the preparation of breakfast, and instruct her on some cooking and kitchen basics, but she is nowhere to be found.”

  “What do we have in store today?”

  “Eggs, sausages and fried bread.”

  “I meant our itinerary.”

  “I really could not say. I am afraid that I confess to being just a bit flustered as to a proper course of action. I think that I would enjoy a horse-back ride in order to clear my thoughts.”

  “That sounds like a fine idea, Ma’am. I’ll run out to the stable and get one of the WilloughSickle brothers to help me saddle a couple of horses. I’ll meet you around front so you and I can go for a little trot about the property.”

  “Splendid! I shall meet you on the drive.”

  I go out to the stable but don’t immediately see anybody. As I walk into the barn I hear softly giggly male and female noises. A light rain of hay dust from the loft indicates the positioning of rhythmic movements.

  “Er, eh-hunh-eh-hum, uh, howdy and good mornin’ to anybody here in the barn. I am trying to be delicate in making my presence known.”

  Soft shushings precede a cessation of movement.

  “Don’t worry, it’s just me, Ichabod Temperance. Miss Plumtartt was wantin’ to go for a horsie ride.”

  “Tee, hee! Master Icky!”

  A moment later the upside down grinning face of Horbaz WilloughSickle appears from the ledge of the loft peering back at me.

  “Joost you wait there a mooment, lad, Oi’ll be rights dooon.”

  His freckled face is replaced by a pair of freckled calves. They face me heel first. A pair of britches then appear. They are held down for the legs to enter. The feet turn around toes to me and are lowered until the lanky, loony Scotsman can drop himself lightly to the floor.

  “Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. WilloughSickle.”

  “Tee, hee! Not a worry, me little American mate! As it is, I ‘ad joost finished me business with one of the milkmaidens. Dinnae ask me which one, I ‘ave’s troooble tellin’s ‘em apart. Tee, hee!”

  “You don’t mind if Miss Plumtartt and I take a couple of the horses out, do you, sir? I ain’t had a chance to have a real horse between my legs, nor Miss Plumtartt in a side saddle manner, in a possum’s age.”

  “Tee, hee! Oh, Ickity, you tickle me so with your foreign and devilish colonial way of speech! ‘Sir’ he says! ‘Howdy’ he says! Now you speak to me of your dangerous wild game that roam the wild barrens of your savage lands. Tee, hee! Possums, now, is it? Tee, hee! Oh, God love ye my boy, but I do loves ye so!”

  “Does that mean you’re gonna help me hitch up some horsies?”

  “It’s ‘horsies’ now is it!? Tee, hee! But to answer your question, no. Oh, how it breaks me heart to tell ye that the horses ‘ave fled the barn. Ye see, with Mr. RooksPawn bein’ arrested, that makes me the Coachman. Tee, hee! I have had me broother take the rig to tooon for a bit o’ mie-noor carriage repair. O’ course, that entailed having the horses ah-hitched to pull her, right?”

  “Oh, well, I reckon we’ll take the pony cart, instead.”

  “I’m sorry to tell ye that our coook, Miss Wallaby, has taken the basket cart for her groocery shooping.”

  “Oh, well. Thanks anyway, Mr. WilloughSickle.”

  “Tee, hee! Not at all, Master Icky. Always happy to be of service me boy, tee, hee!”

  “Gee, this sure is a long walk to get around to the front of the house. Miss Plumtartt ain’t gonna be happy about this. Uh oh, there she is.”

  “Where are our horses, Mr. Temperance?”

  “Mr. Horbaz said they were all in use, Ma’am.”

  “I was under the impression that those horses belonged to me, Mr. Temperance, that they may be at my use when called for. I am not amused, sir.”

  “Golly, I sure am sorry, Miss Plumtartt. Tell you what, why don’t we just stretch our legs a bit and walk down to the gates, Ma’am.”

  “I am not at all happy about ‘stretching my legs’, Mr. Temperance, when I am supposed to have that carriage or at least the pony cart at my disposal.”

  “No Ma’am.”

  “Sigh. Let us walk then, Mr. Temperance.”

  - - -

  “I think the walk has done you some good, Miss Plumtartt.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Temperance, I feel my spirits to be immensely improved as we approach the gates here at the end of the drive.”

  “Oops! Uh, I didn’t expect there to be anybody out here, but as we walk through the big gates I am surprised to see that we have company.”

  “Eh hem, yes, quite so. A lounger is leaning against the wall. He is tallish, and dressed in the manner of the locals as we saw at The Wailing Pig yesterday.”

  Tilting his head back, he lifts his hat just far enough to get a look at us. He gives Miss Plumtartt an inappropriately long and admiring view.

  “Howdy, sir, may we help you?” I try to distract the cad as I am not happy about this open ogling of Miss Plumtartt.

  He gives me a dismissive scoff.

  “Oi was gonna ask the Missus if Oi could ‘elp ‘er. You are the Missus ‘ere, roight? Oi understand that you foind yourself short a gawdeneh. Woi don’t ye ‘ire me, then, eh?”

  “We strive to maintain a certain standard here at Plumtartt Manor, sir. I normally do my hiring through an agency but as we are in a pinch to fill this position, we shall take you on a trial basis. I have been unhappy about the pruning of the shrubberies at the end of this wall. If you do a good job at getting them in order, perhaps we shall see to hiring you on in a permanent position.”

  “Henh. Oi guess that’s good enough, but Oi expects to get paid for me work today, regardless.”

  “Of course, sir. I think you will find that our former horticulturist left his shears at the site. I trust you will be more considerate of the estate’s tools. Good luck, Mr. ...”

  “Oi don’t gives me name out to just anybody. Oi’ll speaks to you later.”

  The surly, side-burned chap moves down the Great Gnarly Growth Passage towards his point of occupation.

  “Look back yonder in the opposite direction, Miss Plumtartt. A buggy is approaching.”

  “This would appear to be the WinterBottoms, out in a single-horse phaeton.”

  “Looks like they recovered from their unusual attacks that they endured yesterday.”

  “Hullo there, Miss Plumtartt!” calls the Colonel. His spamosdic jaw is now firmly under control and supports a jovial countenance. “Lovely weather, eh, what? I see you still have that little fellow from the United States with you. Eh, what? Burbity-burb. Heh, heh.”

  “Yes, Colonel, he does come in handy on occasion. That is a very becoming outfit, Mrs. WinterBottom. Not everyone can pull off wearing a bustled kimono with pintucked bodice. The voluminous shoulder poofs coordinate in a manner I would not have thought possible.”

  “Thank you, Madame Plumtartt.” Mrs. WinterBottom’s wide open peepers are surrounded by generous amounts of blue mascara. They give her the appearance of a punched out panda. “My tastes run to the ecl
ectic, you see.”

  “We are given to understand that you had a bit of unpleasantness in the Manor, eh what?” the Colonel politely questions, “something about somebody getting themselves ‘knocked off’, so to speak, in an unusual manner, eh? Rotten luck, that, I should think. Burbity. Yes.”

  “Yes, Colonel, it did put a damper on an otherwise lovely dinner.”

  “I have some amount of skills as concerns the world of the occult, Miss Plumtartt. Perhaps I could be of assistance somehow?”

  “We should be most grateful for any assistance that we can find Mrs. WinterBottom. Of what nature is the assistance that you offer, Madame?”

  The eyes of the spiritualist grow many times again in size.

  “I am well versed in opening channels of communication across the great rift; the cosmic, inter-voidal seas between the worlds of the living and the dead! I propose conducting a séance! You should open a gate to the spirit world and reach out to the deceased to have him name his murderer himself!”

  “Yikes! I don’t know, Miss Plumtartt. Sounds pretty spooky to me!”

  “Actually Mr. Temperance, the idea may contain merit. Yes, a very interesting idea, Mrs. WinterBottom. You may expect Mr. Temperance and me tonight at your house promptly at nine o’ clock.”

  “NO!” The Colonel and Mrs. WinterBottom call out aloud and simultaneously. Mrs. WinterBottom then resumes more quietly.

  “Eh, hem, I mean, eh, no, eh, the spirits will be easier to contact if in the same house as where the unfortunate event took place.”

  “I see. Very well, then, I suppose that we shall look forward to seeing you both tonight at Plumtartt Manor.”

  “Yes! Hear, hear! Burbity, burb, burb, burb! Good show!That is absolutely smashing! Isn’t it my dear?”

  “Oh, yes, dear! How very gracious of Lady Plumtartt to welcome us into her esteemed estate so freely!” exclaims Mrs. WinterBottom. I would not have thought her eyes could have been held in a more open and unblinking state, but the sound of Miss Plumtartt’s invitation has made Mrs. WinterBottom happier than an elephant quality control clerk at a peanut factory.

  The Colonel and his kooky kabuki koala wife turn their carriage about and head back to their home on the GrimSmackle Trail.

  “You sure did make them folks awfully happy, Miss Plumtartt. They were both real excited about coming over to our house to coaxe a ghost into materialization and socialmacation.”

  “Indeed, Mr. Temperance. The WinterBottoms do appear very eager to get inside Plumtartt Manor.”

  “Why, look there Miss Plumtartt. No, not up the road, but out there on the Forsaken Barrows. It appears that Mr. and Mrs. Purrington are making their way here over the dangerous boulder and thicket choked marshy mire.”

  “My word, Mr. Temperance, so they are. What is that unusual breed of horse that they share?”

  “It looks like a shorter but stouter size of horse than I am familiar with Ma’am. It has got thicker hair than I am accustomed to seeing on a horse, also.”

  As the neighbors from the nameless track that bridges the GrimSmackle Trail and Ill-BeGotten ByeWay get closer, identification of their horsie becomes more apparent.

  Thurston Purrington dismounts his steed and leaves his wife Beulah aboard the two thousand pound black bear.

  “So! I hear there’s been bloodshed in the Manor! The great Professor Plumtartt dinnae know squat on raising a daughter to properly attend to the hoose!”

  “I assure you, my dear Mr. Purrington, every effort is being made to secure the house, all who dwell in it, and its vicinity.”

  “By arresting an innocent man!” Mrs. Purrington’s bloodshot eyes betray her emotional investment with the tragedy of our affairs last night.

  “Inquiries are still being made as regards the matter,” Miss Plumtartt calmly replies. “As it so happens, we are considering the use of non-traditional means of furthering our investigations. A supernatural lead is planned to be followed upon. It is to be at the Manor, tonight. Would you care to attend?”

  Thurston, Beulah and Winnifred have a huddled private discussion before a spokesman for the group informs us of their decision.

  “Yeah, we’ll be there.”

  Momma and Poppa begin the bear-backed Barrow pair bearing bear back to the cave.

  bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup

  “I hear the approach of a steam driven vehicle, Miss Plumtartt.”

  “Indeed, for there it is, a bright, candy apple red touring car comes into view. If the sun had been strong enough to penetrate the low hanging clouds, this horseless carriage would no doubt be gleaming with polished brilliance.”

  “Well, it’s easy enough to recognize the figure that stands up in the back seat waving to us so vociferously. That figure is hard to miss. Her tepid husband remains in his seat.”

  “Ah, hey! Ciao! Persephone! I make-ah with-ah the yoo-hoos. It is I, Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza! Hey! We ah hear of the tragedy at-ah the Plumtartt Manor. Some-ah stupido garden boy goes and gets himself stuck in-ah the mysterious circumstances, henh? Not-ah such a good desert I am thinking. My poor Persephone! I tell-ah my little Persnicitus, hey! We gotta go and see my British Bambina and make-ah the sure she is not making with-ah the traumatics. But no! She is the tower of strength! Si! How my Italian heart swells with the love when I see this girl! I gots-ah to jumps down from this fancy steamer-car and run over to hug and kiss my Persephone Plumtartt! Ah-Smooch-Ah! Ah-Smooch-Ah! Oh. Hello, little American boy.”

  “Howdy Miss Sforza.”

  “How nice to see you, Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza, and how kind of you to be concerned with my welfare.”

  “Ha! Ha! Of course I am concerned! You are such-ah the funny girl, Persephone! That is why I love, love, love this girl! Ha, ha!”

  “Charming. You may be interested to know that we intend to hold a séance tonight at the Manor. Would you and Mr. Sforza be interested in attending?”

  “WOULD WE BE INTERESTED IN ATTENDING!!! YOU BETCHA!!! You ah gots-ah NO idea how much-ah I have been wanting to get into that house! Ha! Ha! Ciao! Persephone!!! … and your little man.”

  “See ya later, y’all.”

  Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza instructs her driver on the business of getting the steamer turned about and headed for home.

  “Let’s go see how our new gardener is getting along, Miss Plumtartt.”

  “An excellent plan, Mr. Temperance. Let us peruse his progress. Perhaps he has chosen a whimsical animal motif for trimming the bushes.”

  “He didn’t strike me as the type, Ma’am. We’ll just have to go and see.”

  I can’t say that we are too surprised when we walk up to see that our Crimpenmestylenshire slacker has not even started on the hedges. Instead, he is sitting under a tree with his back against the trunk. Smoking a disreputable clay pipe so often favored by English farmers, he does not even deign to look up at our approach.

  “Trying to conceive of a pleasing form for the hedges before actually beginning one’s work, I see. Do you plan to create the illusion of a flying elephant, its over sized ears granting the chubby chap elevation, or do you foresee an innocent fawn? Perhaps you intend to delight us with the image of an improbably cheerful mouse?”

  ~Hah-wahk-ah-puh-tooey!~ rejoins our charming new potential gardener. “Oi did think Oi’d cops a squat an’ gives dees ‘edges a litt-elle contemplation before applying me shears.” ~Tooey.~

  “I applaud your mental applications. Did you come to any interesting findings?”

  The would-be pruner still has not looked up at us. His head is bowed and the stem of his smoldering pipe rests against his wide forehead.

  “It tooks a moment for me’s to see its at fust, but soon enough, dees hedges began to speak to me.”

  His distinctive Crimpenmestylenshire accent comes to us in soft tones as the fellow relaxes into a contemplative dissertation.

  “Oi sees where der’s been a repetition in deh cut
s soometoimes. You see where dat branch is cut two thorns past the first intersection, and again over ‘ere. If you’de take deh toime ta notice, you’d see it repeated ‘ere an’ ‘ere. Dees inuhveenin’ branches seem to convey differin’ cuttin’ pattuns, roight? Well, Oi says to meseff, let me see if Oi can’t follow dis loine of thought oot a beet. Wotz do you know? A message presents itseff to me as clearly as if printed in the Elderberry Paund Gazeet.”

  “How very intriguing, sir. And what did the Eleagnes whisper into your observant ear?”

  Turning a pair of mischievous, twinkling, light gray eyes up to us, he answers in a familiar, high, sophisticated and educated speech pattern.

  “Come now Temperance and Madame, I know you possess the wit and I have given you the key.”

  Miss Plumtartt and I shout out our London detective friend’s name together in shocked joy and surprise.

  “Yes, it is I. This disguise has allowed me to move with impunity through the discomforting open spaces of your countryside, Madame.”

  “It sure is good to see you again, sir. We really could use your help. There’s been all kinds of shenanigans goin’ on around heres.”

  “So I am given to understand.”

  “Oh, yeah! I was hoping to get to see you again. I wanted to give you a little something for helping us out back in London. Here ya go.”

  I pull the cloth wrapped device from my coat.

  The detective is taken aback. He turns his head away for a full three count before turning back to us. Something has softened in his composure.

  “I know that my actions, though done for the purpose of being of a service to you, were painful to your sensitive nature, my friend. I assure you, it was a very difficult exercise for me. My behaviour was quite beastly when I think of harming the naïve and noble spirit of Mr. Ichabod Temperance. For you to still have it in you to be so kind as to maintain your affection touches me deeply, young man.”

  “Aw, it’s okay, sir. I’m just really happy to see you again. Here ya go.”

  The detective graciously accepts the bundle with a short bow. He takes a moment attempting to ascertain what is contained within. I take more than a small amount of pleasure at having confounded him as to the contents. He does rather quickly catch onto the device’s use and operation almost as soon as he unwraps it, though.