Lady Alice was effusive in her praise of Edward when Susannah returned to the drawing room. “Edward is so pleasant,” she began. “He seemed to be in high spirits, as always.”
“Yes, I suppose,” said Susannah absently as she returned to her seat.
“You know what I think?” said her grandmother.
“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” Susannah answered.
“I think Edward Mansfield is in love with you!” she proclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “What do you think of that? He pays you a great compliment with his endless attentions to you.”
“I do not wish to disappoint anyone Grandmamma, but I do not love Edward. I admire him, but admiration is not love,” she said firmly. She thought about what he had said only moments ago. Was it a proposal of marriage or a business deal?
“How do you know you do not love him? Have you given him a chance?” asked Lady Alice.
“Of course I have. Ours is an old friendship. But I do not feel, you know, that way, with him,” she answered confidently.
“And you are sure about these feelings?”
“Quite sure, Grandmamma,” she said with a tone of finality.
“Well, I shall not press you further, my child. You know best. It is a shame however, given that he adores you so.”
*****
Lady Alice loved her afternoon teas. They added an enhanced sense of civility to her orderly world. She enjoyed engaging in pleasant conversation with lively company. It was such an agreeable way to pass a cold, winter afternoon. But Edward could not share her enthusiasm and when Friday finally came, he found himself no closer to winning his stubborn prize. Susannah attentively served his tea, he liked it clear, with one sugar. But she did not indulge his fantasies or encourage his awareness of her. There had been one or two others whose fortunes had interested him, but he had rolled the dice on Susannah and cleared a pathway to allow their connection to blossom. Her recalcitrance put him off. He had much invested in his scheme and had gone to a great deal of trouble. It was too late to end the pursuit now. Seated in a well-stuffed chair, he listened as the endless chatter of the ladies swirled around him.
“Where is your friend Catori, today?” Charlotte asked Susannah.
“Oh, she is out for her usual walk,” offered Lady Alice. “She likes to observe the murmuration of the starlings before they settle down for the evening.”
“A lady who enjoys the outdoors, even in winter,” Edward said pleasantly as he carefully cataloged this titbit of information.
“Catori is a gentle soul and a keen observer of nature,” said Susannah. “Oh, I forgot to mention, I have been in correspondence with Ella Purfield and recently had a letter.”
“Oh! How is Ella?” asked Charlotte
“She happily reported that she and the Professor are finally all unpacked and settled in at their residence in London. Also, she has invited Catori and me to pay them a visit in early February.” So, Susannah was scampering off to London now, thought Edward. That simply wouldn’t do.
“They were good friends to you in Denver,” observed Charlotte.
“The best of friends,” Susannah agreed.
“Edward shared with me the happy news about Miss Parker. Will the wedding be in the village?” Charlotte asked.
“In Stoke-on-Trent I believe,” said Susannah.
“She wanted a larger church,” supplied Lady Alice.
“Was that necessary?” asked Charlotte.
“Miss Parker waited so long to be married, she decided upon a larger church as she intends to invite a great many people,” Susannah explained.
“Well, you know what they say about June brides,” said Lady Alice.
“What do they say?” asked Charlotte.
“I think Grandmamma means that prosperity and happiness follows couples marrying in June,” said Susannah.
“Yes,” agreed Lady Alice, “and Miss Parker would then be most likely to give birth to a child in the spring – plenty of time to relax before the fall harvest!”
“Grandmamma!” exclaimed Susannah.
The conversation continued throughout the tedious afternoon. Edward politely answered questions and made light conversation in a distracted manner. By the time he left Larkspur that day, he knew what he must do. He had worked out a plan guaranteed to bring Susannah to heel. It would probably take Mr. Brophy only a day or two to figure out the predictable path of Catori’s afternoon activities. He would easily locate her as she walked about the grounds and very soon he would make certain that she simply disappeared.
*****
The southern edge of the Larkspur estate was hilly and sloped downward. The meandering stream found a low place that created a quiet pond and a marshy area of dense shrubbery that was favored by many species of birds. It was here that Catori could glimpse the murmuration of the starlings before they settled down to roost in the late afternoon. The flock would swarm this way and that, dipping and soaring in unison, putting on an elaborate dance in the fading sunlight. They seemed to be driven by some silent communication. She had watched the flock from several different vantage points in recent days and was amazed by this most mysterious spectacle every time she saw it. What drove the flock to swarm in such remarkable, synchronized patterns? How did they keep from colliding with one another? How did they select a roosting spot? How did the birds decide when it was time to land in unison?
Catori could not have picked a more beautiful place to fall victim to the nefarious crime. So caught up was she in their riveting display that she failed to detect the menacing figure prowling ever closer behind her. As one beefy arm caught her by the waist, his other hand, holding a cloth soaked with a noxious smelling chemical came over her nose and mouth. She had little time to react or to scream and was easily subdued like a captured animal in less than a minute. Limp and unconscious, Brophy unceremoniously hauled her over his shoulder and carried her, like a lifeless rag doll, to the copse of trees where the horse was tied.
When it was discovered that Catori never returned from her walk on Tuesday afternoon, worry, chaos, turmoil and fear descended on everyone at Larkspur. The realization came late, at eight o’clock, when they had assembled for the evening meal. At first there was confusion; it took time to confirm that she was indeed missing. The frightening possibility that Catori may have been harmed was a prospect too awful to countenance. Susannah and Lady Alice were mindful of Jack’s dreadful warning of a ‘dangerous situation’ and this made them fearful of foul play.
But for Mrs. Ross the housekeeper and everyone else, her disappearance took on the less sinister implication that somehow, since she was out walking alone, Catori had become injured rendering her either unconscious or unable to walk. She would be vulnerable exposed to the harsh elements on a cold winter’s night and precious time had already been lost. It was imperative that she be found soon, and find her they would. Bundled against the cold, Lady Alice’s coachman, Mr. Benson, along with two footmen set out with lanterns to search the property. But Susannah, fearing the worst, dispatched another footman to Stoke-on-Trent to summon the constable.
The excellent people of Larkspur worked tirelessly throughout the night to find Catori and in the light of the new day, they redoubled their efforts, but to no avail. Nervous exhaustion started to take its toll on Lady Alice. Mrs. Ross, insisting she should try and rest, accompanied her to her chamber. The constable, Mr. Emery, had been delayed in calling at Larkspur due to another urgent matter and so it was not until later that morning when he arrived. Susannah met with him in the library. Mr. Emery was a pleasant, middle-aged man with a sterling reputation and many years of vast experience. He was tall, well-groomed, articulate, analytical and was a commanding presence who spoke with authority. It was a great relief to Susannah to have him involved. After listening to her account of events of the previous day and receiving a detailed description of the missing woman, Mr. Emery had some questions of his own.
“You say you were not aware of her
absence until eight o’clock last evening?” he reiterated as he scribbled some notes.
“It was not unusual for Catori to keep to her room after returning from her walk,” said Susannah.
“Might she have ventured off the estate while on this walk?” he asked.
“I do not believe so, no,” Susannah replied. “She was most interested in observing the starlings and they seem to favor a particular roosting spot on the edge of the property. Mr. Emery,” she added nervously, “there is something else you should know.”
He looked up from his notebook and held her gaze. “Yes?” he said, raising a brow.
“Catori may be the victim of foul play,” was the unexpected revelation.
“Now Mrs. Sprague, I realize this has been an emotionally stressful time…” he began.
“I am serious,” she said rather forcefully.
Mr. Emery instinctively straightened. “Why do you think she was the victim of foul play, Mrs. Sprague? What evidence do you have?”
“We received a warning, of sorts,” she said rather cryptically.
“You will need to supply more information than that if I am to help you,” he scolded.
Susannah had not slept all night, she was tired and worried and her nerves were starting to fray. “It is a long, complicated tale sir,” she sighed. “But I will try to give you the most important details. My husband, the late Mr. Sprague, was killed last July.”
“Oh I am sorry!” exclaimed Mr. Emery. “That is awful, tragic! I had no idea.”
“It has been difficult time, Mr. Emery, a very sad time,” she said. “I am coping as best I can.”
“I am sure. You have my sincere condolences.”
“My husband owned a half-interest in a successful gold mine near Denver, Colorado. After his death, his business partner, Jack Simmons, hired a detective agency to investigate the incident. At first, everyone thought it was an accident. But further scrutiny has led to the belief that he was murdered. Why, we do not know, and there are no suspects. I returned to Larkspur in November when my grandmother, Lady Alice, became gravely ill. Catori is in my employ in Denver, but she is also a friend and agreed to accompany me here so that I would not have to travel alone. On New Year’s Eve, Catori received a telegram from Mr. Simmons, warning of a ‘dangerous situation’. More details of this danger were evidently sent to me in a separate telegram. However, my telegram mysteriously disappeared before I had a chance to read it. Our housekeeper left it for me on the table in the foyer, but it was not there when I returned from a social engagement on New Year’s Eve.”
“Why didn’t you send a telegram in reply, asking your friend what he meant?” asked Mr. Emery.
“It was too late by then. They had already left,” she responded.
“Already left? Who?”
“Mr. Simmons and Mr. Cookson the detective he hired had already left Denver. They are on their way here. You may read the telegram,” Susannah said as she slipped it from her pocket. “Here it is.”
Mr. Emery scanned the proffered telegram and raised a brow. In all his vast experience, he had never heard a wilder, more intriguing or more convoluted tale. It was alarming indeed. “Do you believe someone in Lady Alice’s household is the villain?” he asked.
“It does not seem likely. All who work here at Larkspur for Grandmamma have been with her for many years. None of them had ever met Catori until a few weeks ago.”
“Before we get too carried away with ourselves, we must make a thorough search of the grounds,” he stated.
“We have already done that!” she said angrily. “We are losing precious time.”
“Alright,” he said calmly. “Let us suppose your friend has been kidnapped. It would seem likely that her abductor would have a particular reason for doing this. Such a bold crime would have been carefully planned. It would not surprise me if you or your grandmother were to be contacted by the villain and asked for something in exchange for her freedom,” was his analysis.
“But who would do such a thing!” she exclaimed, as she stood and paced the floor. “We are thousands of miles from Denver and very few people here even know who Catori is! What could such a person as you describe possibly want? Catori is innocent of any wrongdoing. It does not make any sense!” she said in frustration.
“You are right, it does not seem to make any sense at the moment. But those who do these kinds of things are twisted individuals. Trying to understand their motives is a waste of time. We will search the estate and then search the areas nearby. We will get the word out that your friend is missing along with a description of her. I will report back to you later this afternoon,” he promised. “In the meantime, you should get some rest,” he advised. “And if your household staff are out and about they should travel in pairs until further notice. We do not want to endanger anyone else.”
“Thank you, Mr. Emery,” said Susannah. “And thank you for coming. We are grateful for your help. I am sorry to have been rude a moment ago.”
“It is understandable. I assure you, Mrs. Sprague, we will do all we can. Now please try and get some rest,” he advised as he picked up his hat and left the room.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Catori awoke to find herself in a lightless prison. It was hard to say how much time had passed. This place, wherever it was, smelled of mildew and was damp and chilly. The earthen floor suggested perhaps a root cellar. Her gloves gone, her hands were bound in front of her, she felt boneless and weak, her head ached. She could detect no sound coming from beyond. Catori wanted to call out, to cry for help, but was fearful of doing so. That she was alive suggested her abductor had something planned for her. But what? And was this person nearby? It had all happened so fast. Her grandfather High Elk would be disappointed in her weakness and vulnerability. Although use of her hands was limited, she managed to pull up her skirt and was relieved to find that her knife remained strapped to her thigh. She would manage to hold it using both hands when the time came.
With great effort and no light to guide her, she crawled along the floor to learn more about her tomb-like prison. The room was square, it seemed to be empty, the walls about twelve feet long and made of solid brick. She felt her way along the edges and discovered a door, also solidly built, some kind of metal, perhaps iron. And then, a surprise. Somewhere in the distance - the faint sound was barely audible – church bells. She counted – two bells, but what day? And what church? At least one day had passed as she reckoned her abduction had taken place in the late afternoon, perhaps close to five o’clock. Was she near Larkspur or far away? Her head still pounded, probably from the chemical used to subdue her. Feelings of nausea pushed aside all thoughts of hunger. She leaned back against the cold wall, tried her best to secure her wool cape snugly around her legs as far as it would reach, holding in the warmth. Very soon fatigue claimed her weary body once more.
Sometime later it startled Catori when the iron door that sealed her gloomy prison scraped against the slate floor and slid open to reveal blinding, bright sunlight. She sat up and shielded her eyes as they adjusted to the sun’s intense rays. Mr. Brophy’s menacing figure loomed in the threshold. She eyed him warily.
“You!” she said acidly.
“Aye,” he replied, stepping closer.
“I might have known,” she said.
“You should shut up,” he warned. “You don’t know anything. The master says you are to have this,” he said, placing a basket on the earthen floor next to her.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Water, bread and an apple. It seems you’re more valuable to him alive, at least for now,” was the threatening reply. The mention of food reminded her of just how hungry and extremely thirsty she felt. But she made no move to disclose her weakness. “Oh, and this,” he added, throwing a blanket on top of it.
“Where am I?” she asked.
“You’re in England,” he said sarcastically. “That is all you need to know.”
“What do you intend to d
o with me?” she asked, trying to make sense of it all.
“That depends on your little friend and whether she cooperates,” was all he said.
“I knew you were a bad sort when I saw you kick the cat,” she muttered. But Brophy ignored her. “How long have I been here?” she asked.
“Two days,” he said.
“You’ll never get away with this,” she warned.
“We shall see,” was his disturbing reply.
*****
It had been three days since the ever-dependable Mr. Brophy had so efficiently done his job. Edward Mansfield sat behind the large mahogany desk in his shabby little study and thought about the future. Like so many things at his High Park estate, the desk was badly in need of repair. It had belonged to his grandfather. It was old. It was nicked and scratched, had several ink stains, a few drawers were missing their knobs, and one of the cabinet doors had a broken hinge. He looked at the faded drapes and worn carpeting. A complete renovation of his study would be the first order of business when his fortunes changed.
A sharp tapping at the door stirred him from his musings. “Enter!” he said brusquely.
“Mrs. Sprague is here to see you sir,” said the servant as Susannah swept inside.
“Susannah!” Edward exclaimed, trying to look surprised. “Leave us!” he told the servant, who dutifully closed the door. Susannah ran to Edward with a sob. He held her to him, wrapped her tightly in his embrace, and caressed her soothingly along her back.
“What is it, my love?” he said most attentively as he handed her his handkerchief.
“Oh, Edward!” she sobbed against his chest. “It is something most dreadful!”
“I am here, Susannah. Calm down,” he said with a voice of concern, kissing her on the forehead.
“It is Catori…she is…she is...”
“Yes?” he prompted.
The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder Page 20