The Ghosts of Ardenthwaite (The Northminster Mysteries Book 5)

by Harriet Smart

  “What are you looking for?” Felix said.

  “Spy holes.”

  “I thought they were only the stuff of indecent books,” Felix said.

  “And so did I,” said Major Vernon. He stopped with his hand on the wall. “But it seems not. See.”

  Felix followed him into the room, and saw for himself a hole, a quarter of an inch wide carefully placed on the opposite wall to the bed.

  Major Vernon went back into the sitting room, and repeated the search until he found another spy hole. Having done so, he stood with his head bowed, and somewhat to Felix’s surprise, gave the skirting a hearty kick.

  “Sir?” Felix said.

  “My best witness coerced me because of these wretched things,” the Major went on, still addressing the wall. “Except that was not the case – I was tempted. That is the simple truth. They will have seen it all; and I have been blaming those damned mushrooms. Oh, how easy it is to find excuses!”

  “Are you saying –” Felix began.

  “Yes, we had congress!” Major Vernon said. “And yes, what the devil was I thinking?”

  “I am sure you had good reason,” Felix managed to say.

  “I wish to God I did,” said Major Vernon.

  An uncomfortable silence fell.

  Felix could easily imagine himself getting into such a predicament, but Major Vernon? But the woman had been extremely attractive, and it was no easy matter being continent. It was something he wrestled with daily – and he felt it to be harder than ever. In the brief period he had been with Sukey, his body had grown accustomed to the pleasures of the bedroom, and he felt the loss of them severely. Why should Major Vernon be any different?

  Eventually he managed to say, “You are better not wasting your efforts on regrets, sir, given that we are dealing with a man such as Bickley. I am sure that is what you would say to me. The important thing is that you have him in your sights now.”

  “After a fashion,” said Major Vernon. Then he put up his hands. “Yes, you are right. Excuse me. I apologise for burdening you with this. I have kept you from your dinner too long with this little escapade. Let’s go home.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Given the number of lodging houses and hotels in Swalecliffe, it might have taken some time to discover where Mrs Parham might be living. However, a visit to the circulating library in Ship Street, where last summer Felix had subscribed on Sukey’s behalf, yielded an address in Upper Swalecliffe, the newest part of the town. The proprietor was anxious to retrieve various volumes from Mrs Parham – he had been on the verge of sending his own boy. “Perhaps the gentlemen would be good enough to remind Mrs Parham about it? They are titles much in demand at the moment. Mrs Brundell’s latest, especially.”

  They walked up to Upper Swalecliffe, along a newly-made road lined with modern villas, set into the hill side, with bay windows placed for a sea view and all with great flights of steps to the front door. Mrs Parham’s was no exception, and as they went up the ten or so steps, a woman dressed as a servant came out into the area below and looked up at them.

  “Can I help you, sir?” she said.

  Major Vernon leant over the railing.

  “Is Mrs Parham at home?”

  “She’s gone out.”

  “Will she be long? We need to speak to her with some urgency. It’s important.”

  “Well, I don’t know –” she began, and disappeared into the house, and after a few moments opened the front door to them. “She’ll be back soon enough. If it’s important – ?”

  “It is,” said Major Vernon.

  She led them into the front room, where the blinds had been carefully drawn down to keep the sun from bleaching the very fashionable and shiny furniture.

  “You can wait in here,” she said.

  “Were you with Mrs Parham at Ardenthwaite?” said Major Vernon.

  “No, sir. I come with the house.”

  “But Mrs Parham brought her own staff with her – a maid, and nurse for the children?”

  “No children, sir, and no maids,” said the girl. “Children aren’t allowed in this house anyway. My boss –”

  “Who owns this house?”

  “Yes, sir. He won’t let to people with children. It ruins the paintwork and furniture.”

  “I see. And your boss’s name is –?”

  “Hickman.”

  “And how long has Mrs Parham been here?”

  “About a month. If you’ll excuse me, sir, I have to get on. Mrs Parham shouldn’t be long. She is usually back before noon.”

  Left alone, Felix sat down on the solitary sofa while Major Vernon went and pulled up the blind.

  “That was really quite a tale that the Colonel spun us,” said Felix.

  “We may have the wrong Mrs Parham,” said Major Vernon. “But it is not a common name. Ah, I wonder if this is the lady?”

  Felix joined him at the window. Coming down the street, and then stopping at the foot of the steps, was a smartly-dressed woman leaning on the arm of an equally well-turned out gentleman. They were laughing, and both began to climb the steps together.

  Major Vernon retreated from the window with a quizzical glance at Felix.

  “We won’t mention we are from the constabulary just yet,” he said.

  Outside they heard the maid saying, “There are two gentlemen to see you, ma’am.”

  “Who are they?” said a man’s voice.

  “I don’t know, sir.

  “Did you not ask for their names, you daft woman?” he said.

  “No, sir. I’m sorry, Mr Hickman, it’s just that they seemed, well –” she broke off as the door was pushed open and Mrs Parham entered, with a rather imperious sweep of her skirts.

  “Yes, may I help you?” she said, with some hauteur.

  “Forgive the intrusion, ma’am,” said Major Vernon. “My name is Vernon, Major Giles Vernon. I am an acquaintance of your husband, and this is Mr Carswell, the owner of Ardenthwaite House. I am afraid we come here with very unpleasant news. Perhaps you should sit down.”

  “Unpleasant news? What do you mean?”

  “Please, ma’am, do sit down. And perhaps,” Major Vernon addressed the maid, “you might fetch some salts and some water.”

  “What has happened?” demanded the man, coming in and taking Mrs Parham’s hand. “What is going on?”

  “Perhaps you might confirm that you are the wife of Colonel Edward Parham, ma’am, residing at Ardenthwaite House?” Major Vernon said. “Just to save you unnecessary distress.”

  “I am,” she said. “What is it? Has something happened to my husband?”

  Major Vernon nodded and gestured towards a chair.

  “Won’t you sit down, ma’am. I’m very sorry to have to tell you such awful news – your husband is dead. He was found dead at Ardenthwaite yesterday.”

  “Dead? How?”

  “It seems possible he has taken his own life.”

  “No! Oh dear God! No!” she exclaimed and threw herself into the arms of the man called Hickman who had followed her into the room. “No, no – surely not. You must be mistaken.”

  “I am afraid not. My deepest condolences.”

  She gave a sort of howl, broke from Hickman’s arms, and ran out of the room.

  “Suicide?” Hickman said. “You’re sure they are saying that?”

  “Quite,” said Major Vernon. “I understand he was an unhappy man.”

  “Terrible, terrible news,” said Hickman with a shake of his head.

  “Is there anyone here, some woman friend that we can fetch to help Mrs Parham? It seems cruel to leave her here alone,” Major Vernon. “Where are her family? Does she have any sisters, or are her parents still living? I’m afraid I don’t know. The Colonel mentioned they had several children –”

  “I believe they are with her sister,” said Hickman. “In Warwickshire.” He hesitated for a moment, and then shaking his head, said, “Suicide. That’s shocking.”

  “Yes,�
� said Giles. “I suppose you knew him?”

  “Only slightly. I met him when he took the house. He sent her here for her health, you understand.”

  “Yes, quite.”

  “A kind, considerate gentleman, I would have said,” Hickman went on. “But you never can tell. We all have our demons and sometimes, I dare say, they get the better of us.”

  -o-

  “Why did you say it was self-murder?” said Felix, as they walked away from the house.

  “I had an instinct about her – and him, for that matter.”

  “You think they might be involved?”

  “It cannot be ruled out. Often enough it is the case that spouses murder each other. There is something about this set-up that I don’t trust. Walking home on her landlord’s arm like that – he had a lover-like protectiveness about him, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I suppose he did.”

  “I wonder how she pays her rent. And after all, she has had enough to put up with from the Colonel, with his gambling and whoring. Perhaps she is taking her revenge.”

  “By hiring someone to kill her husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you said it was suicide to make her think she had got away with it? If she was responsible, that is.”

  “It never does any harm to make people feel the police are stupid,” said Major Vernon. “What do you think of my theory?”

  “About Mrs Parham?”

  “What did you make of her reaction to the news?”

  “Did you think it was a performance?” Felix said. “I cannot tell. She might be a very fine actress or it might be perfectly genuine.”

  “She turned away to cry,” said Major Vernon, “so that we should not see if those were real tears or not. And given she retired so promptly – well, we shall see. In the meantime, let us talk to the neighbours and see what they can tell us.”

  The rain had now cleared away and revealed the magnificent view of the sea. Felix remembered he had once or twice walked up this road with Sukey when the houses were still being finished and plastered. It was extraordinary how it had become a settled district. A few enquiries at the neighbours revealed that Mr Hickman was responsible for a large part of it. He owned at least ten of the houses, and was letting them out at what seemed quite substantial rates.

  “I wouldn’t pay that much normally – it is very expensive for Swalecliffe – but the view is delightful,” said Mrs Thompson, two doors down from Mrs Parham. She was a widow and was obviously glad to have callers in order to impart all she knew. “My birds love it!”

  A pair of parrots strutted up and down on a rail in front of the bay window, sunning themselves.

  “And have you had much to do with Mrs Parham at number twelve?” Major Vernon asked.

  “Not very much, but she hasn’t been here more than a month. Of course I asked her to call. She was very pleasant, but I don’t think she was inclined to be sociable.”

  “She seems to be quite sociable with Mr Hickman,” Major Vernon said.

  “Oh well, yes, I have noticed them walking out together rather more often than one might expect.”

  “Does he live in the terrace?”

  “I don’t think so,” said the widow. “It would be good if he did, for then he would know what the houses were like and the best landlords, I’ve always found, know their properties inside out. But I suppose he is only trying to make as much money as he can, just as everyone is these days. It isn’t as it used to be, wouldn’t you say, Major Vernon?”

  “Perhaps, yes, ma’am,” said Major Vernon.

  “Won’t you have some more cake?” said Mrs Thompson thrusting the plate towards Felix. “But I shouldn’t criticize him for that, should I? He isn’t entirely a gentleman, after all. I dare say you noticed that.”

  “Does he manage all the business of the letting himself?”

  “Yes. He comes and takes the rent in person. I was rather surprised about that. It isn’t how things are usually done here, but Swalecliffe is changing, just like everywhere is. For good or for ill, who knows?” she finished, and got up to pet one of the parrots which had hopped onto the back of a chair.

  “And you have seen them together quite often?”

  “Yes, yes, I have. I suppose she misses her husband. Some women never can do without a gentleman about to attend on them. But it does not look nice, if you know what I mean. Mrs Radcliffe and I were saying this only yesterday.”

  “That is the lady at number five?”

  “Yes. You should speak to her husband, Major Vernon. They have had rather a bother with Mr Hickman. Their kitchen range has been quite shockingly badly put in, and he hasn’t done anything about it.”

  “I shall. Will Mr Radcliffe be at home?”

  “No, he works down in old Swalecliffe. He is a wine merchant – on the corner of Ship Street.”

  -o-

  At Benjamin Radcliffe and Sons, Wine and Spirit Merchant, they were offered sherry instead of tea, and Mr Radcliffe expounded on the saga of the badly fitted kitchen range at some length.

  “Hickman is a devil,” he said. “I cannot tell you how much I regret signing the lease on that house. Of course the situation is marvellous, but how he got the land there in the first place, one can only wonder, because it belonged to the Brentwoods at Calesham Park, and they are the sort of family who never sell land – well, not usually. But he must have made them some offer he could not refuse.”

  “He’s new to the town?”

  “Yes. I think he comes from Northminster, but I don’t know where he made his money. Throwing up houses and then charging a fortune for them. It’s a fine game if you can get into it of course! I am glad we are only there till the end of the year, I can tell you that, sir. It has been a wretched mistake as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Do you have his business address to hand?”

  “Yes, he lives at the Pier Hotel. In some style, I am told. An acquaintance of mine told me he heard that Hickman had bought the whole place, but on the quiet.” He shook his head. “That’s the trouble with Swalecliffe nowadays, now the railway is here. Yes, we have more visitors and more money, but with that come the likes of Hickman! He is probably going to knock the place down and put up some monstrous confection which will only attract the worst elements. We already had a gin palace – have you seen that, sir? Shocking place. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hickman were behind that. I did hear a whisper to that effect.”

  -o-

  “That indeed is a disturbing development,” said Major Vernon as they stood outside an elaborate shop front, ornamented by a clock and pillars, with large, many-paned windows. Inside the walls were lined with huge barrels of gin while several elaborate gas-lit chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

  “It looks exactly like the one in Blackfriars Street,” said Felix. “In fact, isn’t that called Merriam’s?”

  “Yes,” said Major Vernon. “And I had Bickley down as the proprietor, or at least the money behind it. But perhaps not.”

  He pushed open the door and went in.

  As it was early afternoon there were few customers at the bar. Later, if it was anything like the establishments in Northminster, the place would be crammed with all manner of folk, getting rowdy over a glass or two, or often enough far more than that, of cheap, sweet, warming gin. The usual result of which, at least in Northminster, was a descent into mayhem and brawling later in the evening, with the worst affected being hauled off to the Infirmary or the Police House.

  The barmaid did not at once turn to serve them but continued to polish and arrange the glasses on the shelves in front of her.

  At last she turned and gave them an enquiring glance that bordered on the insolent.

  “I’d like to talk to the proprietor,” said Major Vernon. “Mr – ?”

  “Cotgrave?” she said. Major Vernon nodded. “Who’s asking?”

  “Just fetch him out, would you?” said Major Vernon, with sufficiently authority that she threw down her cloth on
the bar and went scuttling off into the back.

  “With luck she will take us for the Excise,” Major Vernon said.

  Cotgrave appeared a few moments later. Respectably, indeed soberly dressed, he nevertheless had the look of a hard man about him, a man who could break up a fight or as easily provoke one. He eyed them up warily, before taking a cut glass decanter from under the counter and three short stemmed glasses.

  “Madeira, gents?” he said. “I don’t imagine you are here for the gin.”

  “No, nor Madeira, but thank you,” said Major Vernon.

  “Then what?” Cotgrave said, pouring himself a glass. “If you are from the Excise, let me tell you, there isn’t a drop in this establishment that hasn’t passed through the proper channels and paid the correct rate.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Mr Cotgrave,” said Major Vernon. “Tell me, how long have you been in business here?”

  “Three months.”

  “And trade is good?”

  “Trade is excellent.”

  “And who is Mr Merriam – the name above the door? Why is this not Cotgrave’s? After all, I am sure you do most of the work.”

  “There is no Merriam. It’s just a name the owner put up there.”

  “Mr Hickman?” said Major Vernon.

  “Aye.”

  “Is he your landlord or your employer?”

  “Employer,” said Cotgrave. “But he lets me have a free hand. And you’re right, sir, I have done most of the work building the business. There is more to a place like this than just the fitting out. You have to get the people over the threshold and then make ’em stay.”

  “He’s lucky to have you in his employ, then.”

  “Yes, to be frank, he is and I’m not sure he knows it. But what’s it to you, sir?”

  “I’m considering making an investment in one of his enterprises. I like to get a feel of how a man manages things, the quality of the people he employs, that sort of thing, before I commit myself.”

  “Is he needing money?” said Cotgrave, and then leant forward confidentially, “I had heard that – well, perhaps I should not say, but if he’s been asking for it, you might want to know about it.”