by Rhys Bowen
They looked perplexed about this, as if the idea had only just come to them.
The policeman asked if we'd seen anyone digging on the es-tate and we told him no, we hadn't. But of course he could have done his evil work at night, couldn't he?” Adam said. “Living so far from the main house, he could come and go as he pleased.”
“I told you before about idle gossip, boy,” Tom reprimanded. “No good can come of speculating now. It’s over, finished, and no amount of talking will bring the boy back. So you get back to your work, Adam. And you, miss, have been warned before about resurrecting the past.”
“Thomas!” A shrill voice interrupted us.
Cousin Qara came striding across the lawns, waving a trowel. She was dressed in a gardening smock, sunbonnet and rubber boots, and carried a flat basket over one arm.
“Have you turned over that bed as I asked you?”
“What bed was that, Miss Tompkins?”
“I told you, stupid man!” Clara’s face was as red as the cherry-colored smock she wore. “I said that Miss Henderson in the village had given me all these geranium cuttings and that they would be ready to plant out in a couple of weeks. They are now ready and I expected you to have prepared a bed for them.”
“Sorry, miss. I didn't get no orders from the mistress.” Tom faced her with an impassive stare. “But I expect Adam and me can find you a patch of ground, if you're set on putting them cuttings somewhere.”
“A patch of ground? You speak me to as if I'm some child to be appeased. When I wanted to grow tomatoes last year you made all kinds of difficulties and found me a bed with no sun.”
Taking care of the grounds is our work, begging your pardon, miss. It’s not something ladies should be doing.”
Clara’s face flushed even redder. “I happen to find gardening very healthful and growing things very satisfying. One of you will come with me immediately and help me find a suitable spot for these plants, or I'll have to report you to Mrs. Flynn.”
Tom cast a quick glance at Adam. “Go with her, boy. There’s room up against the back of the kitchen where that wisteria’s past its prime. Geraniums can take a lot of sun. Off you go then.”
Clara stomped off with Adam. Tom ventured to give me a grin. “Spinsters,” he said. “I reckon something happens to them when they turn thirty with no man in their lives. Something goes wrong in their heads. Still, she’s been company for the mistress all these years, poor soul. Now, if you'll excuse me, miss, I must get back to clearing this brush away.”
I went back to my seat on the lawn, watching the two figures of Clara and Adam stomping side by side through the grass. Another person who had access to garden tools and who was, according to Tom, not quiterightin the head.
Ridiculous, I muttered to myself. I was desperately searching for a suspect when everything still pointed to Bertie Morell. But I did write her name in the book.
Fifteen
Ispent a few minutes writing a note to Daniel to report on my progress.
Dear Daniel,
I have been in the house two days now and attended two seances. While I don't believe in spirits, I have to admit that both were most impressive, with walking hands, talking heads and voices that seemed to come from different parts of the room. I am sure the sisters are fakes, however, as they conjured up Molly Gaffney’s mother, not mine!
They are staying in a guest cottage and keep themselves to themselves most of the time. I haven't yet found a chance to snoop in the cottage but will take thefirstchance I get.
I signed it “Yours, Molly,” before I remembered that I wasn't his, and probably would never be. So I added the word “Sincerely” and shoved the letter into an envelope, carefully addressing it to D. Sullivan at his home and giving no mention of his profession.
Then I decided that I had given Clara enough time to be fully engrossed in her plantings and made my way up to the house. I found her kneeling at a narrow bed beside the kitchen wall. A rather straggly wisteria was now showing the last of its purple blooms, but the bed below it had been empty except for some forget-me-nots.
Clara looked up suspiciously as I approached.
“I came to see if you needed any help,” I said. “I was sure you must be upset at being spoken to so rudely by the gardener.”
Clara pressed her lips together, then controlled herself and looked up. “It was most distressing, most. You have no idea what it’s like, Miss Gaffney, always being the poor relation. Poor, dear clara whom nobody really wants. They keep me on here as Theresa’s companion, but she doesn't enjoy my presence and rarely includes me in her excursions. Only when she needs someone to carry her packages.”
She looked away again.
I decided to take the plunge. “Do you often go into town shop-ping with Theresa?”
“She takes me with her whenever she goes into New York. As I said, she needs someone to carry her packages.”
I started, as if an idea had just come to me. “So Theresa must have taken you with her that day,” I said. “The day the baby was kidnapped?”
She looked up in horror that I should dare to mention it.
“I'm sorry,” I said hastily. “I shouldn't have brought it up, but I've only just heard the details and I'm so shocked by it all that I need to talk to someone about it.”
“It was awful,” she said, shuddering. “A true nightmare. Theresa and I had taken an early train to New York. We arrived back at around five and were met with the horrible news that the child was missing. Of course no note had been found at that stage.”
“Were you met at the station?” I asked.
“No, at the ferry. Theresa has a fear of small boats so we always rode the train as far as Garrison where there is a proper ferry across to the military establishment at West Point. The chauffeur always met us at the ferry dock.”
“The chauffeur came to meet you?” I blurted out. “But I thought he was the one who—”
“It just shows what a cool customer the man was. He did seem upset when he met us, but of course, he had to break the news that the child was missing.”
“Then he drove you back to the house?”
“At great speed. And even had the effrontery to join in the search.”
“When were the police called in?”
“When the ransom note was discovered, later that evening. Even though the note stated that the police were not to be involved, Barney didn't care. He just wanted his child found quickly. But, of course, by not obeying instructions it cost him his son in the end. They staked out the spot in the forest. Morell must have seen a movement among the trees as he came to pick up the ransom money, because he started to flee. And a stupid policeman shot him in the back.” She sighed and put her hand to her chest. “It is still as painful as if it were yesterday, Miss Gaffney. We all adored that child. He was the light of his mother’s life, and his father’s too. Everyone who knew him loved him. Even that devil of a chauffeur used to play with him and offer him candies, when all the while he was plotting to—” She broke off and put her handkerchief up to her mouth. “Forgive me,” she muttered through the handkerchief. “I find this subject too distressing and my cuttings will wilt if I don't get them into the ground quickly”
I left her, feeling guilty that I had stirred up her grief again. I had learned nothing more than that the chauffeur came to meet them from the ferry as scheduled. I wasn't sure what this proved, except that the man had a cool head. But I'd already established that much.
I stepped into the coolness of the marble hallway and let my eyes accustom themselves to the darkness. From Senator Flynn’s office I heard the sound of raised voices. “Dammit, Joe. I'll not stoop to that level.”
“You're going to have to do something, Bamey, and you're going to have to do it soon. Don't think that everyone loves you. They won't hesitate to use the scandal if they have to, you know.”
They can't have found it out. Nobody can have talked.”
There are no beans people won't spill fo
r enough money. You should know that better than anyone, Bamey. And I'm warning you that there are no lengths to which they won't go.”
I tiptoed across the hall, not wanting to be caught eavesdrop-ping, and made my way up the stairs. It occurred to me that I had never visited thefirstscene of the crime—the nursery. I had promised young Eileen a visit and she'd probably welcome a change from her very boring and restricted routine. I stood outside the nursery door and knocked before turning the handle.
The nanny looked up, startled at my entry, and scrambled to her feet. Eileen jumped up too.
“Have you come to see my doll’s house?” she asked.
“Eileen, it’s not polite to ask questions of adults. Speak when you are spoken to. How many times do I have to tell you? May I help you, miss?” Her large, severe face had no humor in it and I didn't think Eileen could have a very jolly life stuck in the nursery with her.
“I promised Eileen I would pay her a call,” I said, “and she promised to show me her doll’s house. Is it convenient? I haven't interrupted anything, have I?”
“I was just playing with my Noah’s ark,” Eileen said before her nurse could send me away again. “Come and see—isn't it beautiful?”
I didn't think the Noah’s ark was very beautiful. It looked rather well worn. The paint had faded on the wooden animals and some of them were missing an ear or a leg.
“It looks very nice,” I said. “Have you had it a long time?”
“A very, very long time,” Eileen said. “It used to belong to my brother. Did you know I have a brother in heaven? His name was Brendan, but we don't talk about him because it makes Mama sad. So now it’s my Noah’s ark. It used to be his favorite toy and now it’s mine.”
“I don't know what she sees in it.” Nurse sniffed her disapproval. “Her father buys her all these wonderful toys and she plays with that thing, day in and day out.”
I sat on a nearby stool and studied the line of animals she had arranged going over one side of the fireside rug and down the other. “You've got the elephant lined up with the camel,” I said, smiling at the child.
That’s because the other elephant and camel are lost and they'd be lonely” She looked up with her solemn little eyes. I realized I had yet to see her smile.
“Oh, in that case, I'm glad they've found a friend.”
I got up and walked around, examining the doll’s house and the rest of her toys. At the same time I noted that it was a comer room, with two windows, but no way down or up. The creeper didn't cover this part of the house. Through an open doorway I saw the night nursery with its small white bed. Whoever came to snatch Brendan would have had to come through the house, past Soames and all those watchful eyes.
The room would be any child’s fantasy—a large china doll al-most as big as Eileen herself, a small china tea set, books, paints, a doll’s cradle and a magnificent doll’s pram.
“What a beautiful doll’s pram,” I said. It was like a miniature real perambulator, compete with wicker hood and slung coach frame.
“Papa bought it for me. It’s called a baby buggy.”
I smiled. “In Ireland where I come from we'd call it a perambulator.”
“That’s a silly word. Buggy is better.”
“All right. We'll call it a buggy then. It looks very new. Have you only just got it?”
“No, she’s had it some time,” Nurse answered for her. “She doesn't have much opportunity to take it out, seeing that my legs are bad and I can't walk far.”
“Dear me, that’s a pity,” I said. “Maybe Eileen and I could go for walks together while I'm staying here?”
“Oh yes, please.” Eileen ran over and hugged my skirt. “I'd like to go for walks with you and I can take my doll out in the buggy too. Can we go now?”
Nurse glanced up at the cuckoo clock on the wall. ‘Your lunch will be served in forty minutes. By the time we have one of the servants carry the buggy downstairs and we get you dressed in your outdoor shoes and sunbonnet, there would be no time.”
“How about after your afternoon nap then?” I asked.
“Eileen has to go down to tea with her mother.”
“Eileen’s mother is sick in her bed today. I'm sure she won't want a visit if she’s not feeling well.”
“Is that right?” Nurse had obviously worked out that a walk with me would give her time for her own forty winks. “Well, there’s no denying the fresh air would do her good, as long as she doesn't run around and get herself too hot.”
“I’ll be back around three then, Eileen,” I said. “Make sure you have your doll dressed for an outing.”
“I will.” She nodded solemnly again and walked beside me to the nursery door. As I closed it quietly behind me a voice spoke in my ear, making me jump.
“Can I help you, Miss Gaffney? Did you lose your way again?” I turned around to see Soames standing behind me, looking down his nose in that disapproving way.
“Soames, you startled me,” I said. “I didn't see you coming up the staircase.”
“That’s because I came up the back stairs, miss Gaffney.”
“Oh, is there a back staircase?”
“Just for the servants' use, miss. Servants are not allowed to be seen on the main stair. That door you were trying leads to the nursery.”
“Yes, I know,” I said. “I have just been visiting Miss Eileen.” Was that a look of alarm that crossed his face? “What for?”
I had had enough of the supercilious butler treating me as if I was a snooping stranger. “Heavens, Soames. Miss Eileen is my own cousin. Do I need a permission form from you to visit her?”
He backed away. “I'm sorry, Miss Gaffney. I didn't mean to imply—”
“Well, imply you did. I went to visit the child because she invited me to see her doll’s house. And I should have thought you'd be glad for the poor little mite to have some company, stuck away on her own in there. It’s not natural for a child to grow up shut away with just that sour-faced nurse as a companion.”
“Nevertheless, that’s the way it is done in the better house-holds,” he said smoothly.
“While I'm here, I intend to cheer her up,” I said. “Will you ask one of the servants to carry down the doll’s pram at three o'clock sharp? Ill be taking Miss Eileen and her dolls for a walk.”
With that I walked toward my room. I waited until Soames had disappeared, then I sprinted down the hallway and discovered the back stairs off a side passage. They were narrow and uncarpeted and I crept down, holding my breath, half expecting Soames to be waiting for me at the bottom. Instead, the stairs ended in a similar side hall with the kitchen door at one end and various closet doors on either side. If anyone had carried Brendan down the back stairs, he'd still have had to make his exit through the kitchen or risk the entire length of the house and the front door. I hoped that lunch would be outstandingly good today because I needed an excuse to pay a visit to the cook.
Sixteen
I was in luck. It was Friday and Cook served a really delicious steamed turbot with parsley sauce for lunch, followed by an apple crumble and custard. Theresa remained in bed and initially just Clara, Belinda and I sat down at the long mahogany table. The men entered when we were halfway through ourfish, did not apologize for their lateness and continued a conversation that had begun in Barney’s study. It seemed to be a list of people Bamey could count on to sway the voters in particular parts of the state. The notion of swaying voters had been quite new to me when I arrived in New York, but I had already witnessed such swaying, in one case amounting to kidnapping and threats of bodily harm if the voter didn't put his X in the right place. Since I was a female, and hence couldn't vote, I ignored them and they me.
“I am dying of boredom,” Belinda announced, pushing her plate away with the fish half eaten. “After Paris and Florence I thought I'd welcome the chance to do nothing, but I'm too used to the whirl of high society. Do you know in London we dined with different people every single night, and went to thea
ters too. There’s absolutely nothing to do here.”
“We could play croquet,” Clara suggested and got a withering stare in return.
“Clara, we always play croquet. I suppose I could go out for a bicycle ride. Would you like to join me, Molly? We couldridein the direction of the military academy and see if the young men are practicing any interesting maneuvers.”
“Really, Belinda, I'm sure your sister wouldn't approve,” Qara said. “Don't be such an old fuddy-duddy, Clara,” Belinda said, giving me a grin. “How about it, Molly?”
“I'm afraid I've never tried to ride a bicycle,” I said, “and I don't have the proper clothing.”
“It’s not hard to ride a bicycle. I'm sure you'd master it quickly and you'd find it fun. And it’s an excuse to wear bloomers.”
Clara gasped and put her hand to her mouth. You would never consider leaving the estate in those things, Belinda? And possibly being seen by the young men at the academy?”
“Of course. What else does one wear to ride a bicycle? Skirts get caught up in the chain.”
“I'm afraid I don't possess bloomers either,” I said.
“I'm sure Theresa possesses bloomers she would lend you,” Belinda said. “She owns bicycles, so she must have the right clothing. Ill ask her maid for you.”
“Belinda, as your older cousin, I must forbid it.”
“Fiddlesticks, Clara, you're such an old stick-in-the-mud. This is now the twentieth century. I'm going to leam to drive an auto-mobile when I get home.”
“Speak to her, Bamey,” Clara insisted.
Bamey looked up from his conversation. “About what?”
“Belinda insists on riding a bicycle, wearing bloomers, in the direction of the military academy.”
A grin crossed Barney’s face. “Asking for trouble, eh, Belinda? Going to drive the young soldiers wild with a show of leg?”
Belinda flushed. “Of course not. Just healthy exercise, dear cousin. And I'm trying to persuade Molly to come with me.”