The Darlington Substitution (From The Deed Box of John H. Watson MD)

by Ashton, Hugh

  With that, we made our arrangements, and settled down for the night.

  -oOo-

  “A dangerous woman,” remarked Sherlock Holmes, as we sat in a first-class carriage making our way back to London, a cheque for a large sum of money reposing in Holmes’ pocket-book.

  Earlier that morning Holmes had demonstrated to Lord Darlington how the cabinet containing the Mace could be accessed from the side, through the cavity left by removing the wooden panel. Lord Darlington had been astonished and horrified at the ease with which Holmes had removed the Mace, leaving not a trace of his activities, and had immediately given orders for a workman to be summoned from working on the estate to ensure that this method of access was permanently disabled in the future.

  However, Holmes had resolutely refused to provide details of who had purloined the items, leaving Lord Darlington, as he had remarked the previous evening, to draw his own conclusions regarding this.

  “A dangerous woman,” he repeated, filling his pipe and lighting it. “Singularly devoid of conscience and blessed, or cursed, depending on one’s point of view, with considerable intelligence. Your strength of mind in resisting her advances to you is to be highly commended,” he said to me. “Nothing but trouble would have ensued had you succumbed to her considerable charms, I am convinced.”

  “I confess that I feel myself relieved by this. What, though, do you think was her secondary object in purloining the jewellery?”

  “I have no definite thoughts on the matter. To repeat one of my favourite maxims, it is a mistake to theorise before one has all the facts available. Otherwise one tends to twist the facts to suit the theory, rather than the other way around.”

  “Are you not somewhat concerned about her, though?”

  “I have grave concerns about the whole tribe at Hareby. Lord Darlington seems to be in thrall to childish superstition, and seems to be incapable of controlling his own family. His son – well, you have seen his son, and I have not, but from your description, it appears that he will be totally unfit to take over the title and the responsibilities. And then we have his wife, whom I believe we both agree is riding for a fall.”

  “It is not a pleasant prospect.”

  “We are free, at least for the present, of the influence of the Darlingtons, I think. I can now return to that problem presented to me the other day by François le Villard, which promises to provide a respite from the tedium of everyday life.” So saying, he closed his eyes, and entered a wordless reverie, while continuing to fill the compartment with the acrid fumes of his coarse tobacco.

  -oOo-

  Part II – The Disappearance of Lord Hareby

  Chapter 10: Bouverie, the butler

  IT was about a month later that we had an unexpected visitor. Holmes had just completed one or two somewhat delicate cases that had required tact and diplomacy for their solution, and was taking what I considered to be a well-earned break from his labours, but which he regarded with impatience. We were sitting round the table in the centre of the room, working on updating the large scrapbook that Holmes named his “Index” with newspaper cuttings.

  Some of the subjects that Holmes selected were of obvious interest and had a connection with his work. Such items included reports of police court proceedings, reports of unsolved crimes, or some reports of unusual events. I failed to perceive the reasoning that led him to clip out and file a report on copper production in Chile, for example.

  “I cannot speak more of this,” he said, in answer to my query. “My brother Mycroft has an interest in this matter, and he is too indolent to find the information for himself. His skills lie in the tying together of threads, rather than the discovery of them.”

  I was aware of the shadowy position of Mycroft Holmes in the British government, and contented myself with this enigmatic pronouncement.

  As we were seated at our task, Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door and announced that Holmes had a visitor.

  “Well, show him up, Mrs. Hudson,” said Holmes. “Why did you not bring him with you?”

  “Well, I wanted to warn you, especially you, Doctor, that he doesn’t seem to be in a good way at all. If you want my opinion, Mr. Holmes, he’s more in need of a doctor than your services, to look at him.”

  “Show him in, anyway, if you would. Really!” he exclaimed, as the door closed behind her. “ ‘If you want my opinion,’ indeed. When I require the opinion of my landlady, I will ask for it. Until that time...”

  The rest of his tirade was curtailed by a knock at the door. The person who entered the room appeared familiar, but it was a few seconds before I recognised him, so distorted was his face with strain and worry. I assisted him with his overcoat and hat, and sat him in a chair near the fire.

  “You appear unwell, Bouverie,” I addressed him. “What, may I ask, are you doing in London?”

  “I came here special to see Mr. Holmes, I did.” In his agitation, his diction and his accent, which I had noted during my sojourn at Hareby as those of a superior servant, appeared to have slipped a little. “Since I had to come up to London today on another errand, it seemed to me that it would be a good move for me to come and see Mr. Holmes here, seeing as how he put things right a few weeks back. Not that I’m not glad to see you, Doctor. My nerves are all shot to pieces. It’s the wailing and the howling all night that’s doing it.”

  “Here, pull yourself together, man,” I told him sternly, “and drink this,” pouring him a stiff brandy-and-water.

  “Thank you, sir,” he replied, taking the glass from me with a shaking hand, and lifting it to his mouth.

  “Have you been drinking, Bouverie?” I asked him.

  “No sir, I hardly ever drink, and I haven’t touched a drop these past few days, I swear to you, though I confess I’ve been sorely tempted.”

  “Come, man,” said Holmes. “Pull yourself together and tell us what is distressing you in this way. You are hearing strange noises.”

  The butler took a pull at his drink, and paused. “Yes, sir. At first, Mrs. Bouverie and I thought it was the baby.” As the colour returned to his cheeks, his speech became more composed.

  “The baby?” Holmes enquired.

  “Yes, sir. I am sorry. I would have thought you might have been told about it. Lady Hareby was delivered of a baby boy two weeks ago. Funny little mite he is, though I suppose I shouldn’t be saying that, but good as gold. Hardly ever lets out a peep or a whimper.

  “But the last week, we’ve been hearing an uncanny wailing and howling which sounds like a baby, but whenever Mrs. Bouverie has looked in on the nursery, the little one was fast asleep.” Bouverie leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his voice shrank to a hoarse whisper. “Mr. Holmes, do you believe in the Mace of Succession? I know you have heard the story, because of your visit a month ago.”

  “Do I believe in it?” my friend replied, smiling. “I believe in its physical existence, naturally, since I have seen and handled the object in question. If you are asking whether I believe the tales and superstitions attached to it, the answer is that I do not. What is your reason for asking?”

  “Well, sir, I don’t say that I believe in it myself, but at the same time, I feel it would be foolish of me to deny the truth of the matter entirely, if you take my meaning. The thing is, sir, that there is this tradition in the family of removing the coin from the Mace, as you probably know, and it’s not been done yet, even after the baby’s been with us for nearly two weeks now. It may sound somewhat daft to you,” (I smiled inwardly at this use of the word, which was common enough among the Fusiliers with whom I had served, but was less frequently used in the south of the country) “but the sounds we are hearing, you might say that they are almost like the cries of the spirit of a dead child.”

  “That sounds like an extremely fanciful description, if you will forgive my saying so, Mr. Bouverie,” replied Holmes. “One with which I personally would find it hard to agree. From where do these strange sounds appear to be coming, and is there a
ny pattern to their timing? Do they always come at a certain time of day, for example?”

  “There seems to be no rhyme or reason to it, sir, as far as the time of day is concerned. Sometimes it happens in the middle of the night, and sometimes it’s in broad daylight. Usually it doesn’t go on for more than about five minutes at a time, but last night was something terrible, and it was that which made me come and talk to you about it, given that I was in London anyway on an errand for his Lordship. As to where they’re coming from, that’s another mystery in itself. They seem to be coming from the next room sometimes, but when we go in there, no-one is to be seen, and the crying noises stop. I think on every occasion we have heard the sounds, we have been upstairs on the first floor, or in our room on the second floor at the back of the Hall.”

  “Most singular,” said Holmes. “I can understand why you are ascribing a supernatural origin to these sounds, but it is not an explanation that commends itself to me. Do you have anything else to tell me about this? Have you kept a record of the times and occasions when you hear these noises?” Bouverie indicated with a shake of his head that he had not done so. “Very well. I would like you, when you return to the Hall, to commence keeping such a record. Please note the exact time when you first noticed the sounds, how long they continue, where you are when you hear them, and from where they appear to be coming. If you will send me these reports as often as possible, this will be extremely useful.”

  “I will do my best to carry out your wishes in this, Mr. Holmes,” replied the butler. “Naturally, I do not feel it is my place to offer you an invitation to the Hall, but it would ease my mind if you were come to Hareby and see and hear for yourself what’s going on there.”

  “As you say, it would be inappropriate for me to visit at your request,” agreed Holmes, “but I can perceive some merit in your suggestion. You have said that you and your wife are disturbed by these sounds. What of the other inhabitants of the house?”

  “Well, sir, among the servants, the housemaids are the ones who have heard it in the daytime, since they are upstairs more. Sally Crowthorpe, who found Lord Hareby that morning – I think you spoke to her, sir,” addressed to me, “said that she was going to give notice, as it shattered her nerves, she said.”

  “But she has not done so?”

  “She has not yet left the Hall,” admitted Bouverie. “My wife talked to her and persuaded her to stay, but she may change her mind at any time, I fear. The other housemaids are also fearful, and the cook and the kitchen-maids perhaps a little less, for what reason I do not know.”

  “And what of the family?”

  “Lord Darlington, if I may speak frankly, is somewhat hard of hearing, as I am sure you are aware, and he has made no remark to me about this. Nor has he given any sign that he has perceived the sounds. Lady Hareby, when my wife asked her if she had been inconvenienced by the cries, she said that she had heard nothing. Lord Hareby...” and here the good fellow shook his head.

  “Lord Hareby is out of hospital, then?” I asked. “I am glad to hear it.”

  “So are we all, sir, but I fear that he is not much longer for this world. I’m not meaning to make any guesses, seeing that I’m no doctor, sir, but he seems to be very weak and there doesn’t seem to be a lot of life left in him. Most of the time he’s just lying in his bed, and when he does get up, he looks tired out, before he’s even lifted a finger. He used to enjoy his walks around the estate, but he’s not set a foot outside the Hall since he came back from the hospital.”

  Holmes’ next question was rather unexpected, both to me, and, so it seemed, to Bouverie. “What are his feelings regarding the birth of his son?” asked my friend. “Has that event not inspired him with life?”

  “Now that’s another strange thing, Mr. Holmes. He’s been told that his son has been born, but he doesn’t seem in the least interested in the event. In fact, he has seen his son only once, to the best of my knowledge, since he returned from the hospital.”

  “Curious, most curious.” Holmes appeared to be lost in thought for a minute before he looked up and spoke to the butler. “The ritual with the Mace has yet to take place, you say?” The other nodded. “Has any date been fixed, do you know?”

  “No, sir. The old Earl is keen to get it done, of course, because as I am sure he told you when he recounted the legend, the penny must be removed from the Mace within seven days of the birth of the child and before the boy is christened. But at the same time, he seems to feel that he should not perform the Ritual until Lord Hareby feels well enough to attend.” He coughed discreetly. “It is not that his Lordship takes me into his confidence in these matters, you understand, but after many years in his service, I feel that I have some understanding of his wishes in matters such as these.”

  “I am sure that you do,” Holmes assured him. “It may well be that I will come to the area, and base myself near the Hall in order to investigate these events, which sound more than a little disturbing, it is true. In that event, I will make you aware of my presence in the area, and I am certain that I will be able to come to some conclusions regarding your mysterious noises.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said the fellow, donning his coat and hat and leaving us.

  -oOo-

  “I confess to feeling some sympathy for the man,” said Holmes, as the sound of our visitor’s footsteps retreated down the stairs.

  “Maybe he is to be pitied in some ways,” I admitted, “but I would feel somewhat more well-disposed towards him were he not stealing from his master.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Holmes.

  “Is there any reason you can consider why he should be carrying a case of silver spoons or some such plate in his overcoat pocket?”

  “Bravo, Watson! So you also noticed that, but I fear you have placed the wrong interpretation on the worthy Bouverie’s actions. The fact that the case was in his pocket and, as you say, is of a type that almost certainly contains plate of some kind, would seem to mark him down as a thief, would it not? Especially since he has come from the North up to London to dispose of the booty.”

  “That was my assumption,” I agreed.

  “What you failed to observe, obviously, was the receipt from Asprey’s protruding from his waistcoat pocket. From the scuffed appearance of the case, and the fact that it carried the Darlington coat of arms, we may conclude that he had taken some of the Hall silver to that shop earlier for repair, and was now collecting it. He did, after all, inform us that he had business in London, and I hardly think he would have informed us of that fact if that business were against the law.”

  “What do you make of his story about the noises produced by the phantom baby?”

  “Traditionally, butlers are often accused of drunkenness, thanks to their free access to the wine cellars of the houses where they are employed, but I do not feel that to be the case here. I believe, since he mentions various other members of the staff also hearing these noises, that the sounds are actually occurring, and are not merely the figments of his imagination, alcoholically stimulated or otherwise.”

  “I spoke with the housemaid whom he mentioned, Sally Crowthorpe, when I was making enquiries about Lord Hareby on the morning of his illness,” I informed Holmes. “She struck me as being a very sensible and level-headed kind of woman, though obviously when I talked with her, she was somewhat distraught as the result of finding Lord Hareby in that condition.”

  “So in your opinion, Watson, we can assume that the sounds that are filling the ears of Mr. and Mrs. Bouverie are real, and are not merely the products of an overactive imagination?”

  “I would say so.”

  “I also. There are strange doings afoot. I am demanding much of you, Watson, but I wish to be left alone for a few hours. Have the goodness to leave me, and pass the word to Mrs. Hudson that I am not to be disturbed until this evening. When you return, we will sally forth and sample the delights at Alberti’s or any other establishment that takes your fancy. I will foot the bil
l, naturally, being at present in a state of some affluence as the result of a trifling case that resulted in a financial reward out of all proportion to the time I spent in solving it.”

  There was nothing for it when Holmes gave orders such as this, albeit framed as requests, but for me to remove myself from his presence and take myself elsewhere. It was a pleasant day, and I amused myself with a walk in the Park, observing the passers-by and applying to them the principles of deduction that I had learned from Holmes. I was puzzled by one young man, who appeared to be of good birth, and who was dressed fashionably, but whose ears, I noticed, were somewhat incongruously pierced for earrings. He had a curious white mark on his forehead, as if he had been splashed with some liquid. His eyes were constantly darting about him, but appeared to be fixed in my direction more than in any other. He took note of the fact that I was observing him, whereupon he moved away from me quickly before I was able to study him further.

  As the dusk started to draw in, I retraced my steps to Baker-street, where Mrs. Hudson greeted me.

  “Maybe you can take this up to him since you’ve returned, Doctor,” she said, extending an envelope to me. “I didn’t want to be the one to disturb him, even though it is a telegram.”

  “Thank you. I am sure you have done the right thing,” I smiled at her, and climbed to our rooms.

  The room was thick with blue pipe smoke, and through the haze, I could see Sherlock Holmes lying on the sofa, his pipe clenched between his teeth, gazing fixedly at the opposite wall.

  “Have you solved the problem?” I asked him, and fell to coughing violently. “This atmosphere is really intolerable. Allow me to open the window.” I suited the action to the words, and the smoke in the room was gradually replaced by fresh air.

  “The Darlington problem?” he replied. “No, I have not, I fear. There are too many possible solutions, if I base my reasoning on only what we have been told. If I am to solve the case, we must attend in person. I did, however, settle to my own satisfaction that some of the themes of the polyphonic motets of Lassus are at least in part derived from the originals by Palestrina, but that is hardly germane to the matter at hand. Is that telegram addressed to me, by the by?” he broke off, and extended his hand, into which I placed the envelope.