by Joan Smith
“Here she has me to protect her,” Otto replied.
“And who is to protect her from you?” Anita asked pertly. The smile she turned on Otto suggested that any danger from him was of the romantic sort. Next she turned an ingratiating smile on me. “If you are truly frightened, my dear, why not let me share your bedchamber? A truckle-bed will do for me. I sleep like the dead.”
“Then you will not be of much use in case of attack,” Otto said.
Anita laughed and said, “Pooh! You are all making much too much of the danger to Jessica. The only danger she is in is the danger of unwanted offers of marriage. I daresay she can handle that, eh, Jessica?”
“She don’t plan to marry any of us,” Horatio said bluntly.
“Well then, where is the problem?” Anita asked brightly. “You have only to wait a year, then you all share the fortune.”
“The problem is the intervening twelve months,” Otto mentioned.
Gregory sneered. "That is only a problem for you, Otto. I am not in desperate need of my share. No one is suing me.”
“No one is desperate,” Horatio said, leaping to Otto’s defense. “There is always the post-obit. The money-lenders would jump at the chance of earning a year’s interest at some outlandish rate.”
“But how much nicer to be able to pay cash, and save the interest,” Anita said.
Jack growled again and began straining at the leash with such force that he dragged the table forward an inch or so. And it was a large table, holding some of the navigational equipment.
“If this is one of Weldon’s curs, it is not safe to have in the house. They are trained to attack,” Greg said, frowning at the beast. He moved towards the larger table where the pistols had been placed. I felt his real reason was to escape Jack, and I did not blame him in the least. Anita joined him. They each picked up one of the guns. “Careful, one of ‘em is charged,” Horatio said.
“Which one?” Anita asked.
“Charged?” Otto exclaimed. “Horatio, what are you thinking of, to leave a loaded pistol lying around the house!”
“I was planning to shoot into the grate,” Horatio replied.
“Someone could get killed.” Otto reached towards Anita to remove the gun from her hand, perhaps because he felt a lady was less likely to handle a loaded gun with the proper care.
Jack took a pet at Otto’s harsh tone, or perhaps the sudden movement he made towards Anita. He rose up on his hind legs and began straining forward, pulling the table behind him. Anita either lost control, or Otto’s sudden movement caused her to pull the trigger. In any case, a terrific roar resounded in the room. The bullet whistled past my ear so quickly and unexpectedly that I did not even realize at first what it was. It missed me by not more than an inch. I could hear a faint whistling sound, followed immediately by a louder thud as it imbedded itself in the oak-panelled wall.
The room was silent for a second or two, then Jack began howling and lunging so violently that the antiques on the table clattered to the floor. Anita screamed and dropped the gun as if it were a live coal, and the gentlemen all rushed towards me.
“Jess, are you all right?” Otto demanded. His hands gripped my shoulders so tightly they hurt. His face was white and strained.
The bullet had missed me, but I felt far from all right. I was badly shaken, and gratefully accepted Otto’s help to a chair. It was a wretchedly uncomfortable straight-backed chair with no cushioning or armrests.
“For God’s sake put those pistols away, Horatio,” Otto ordered. “And someone get some wine for Jess.” Anita flew off to get it.
“Is the other pistol charged?” Otto asked.
“No, just the one,” a chastened Horatio replied.
Otto emitted a harsh expletive or two, and Horatio mumbled an apology.
The pistol shot brought Felix to the door. “What happened?” he demanded, his eyes large with curiosity.
“An accident,” Gregory said. “Horatio left a charged pistol lying about. Demmed foolish thing to do.”
“Not so foolish as you and Anita playing with them! Told you one of them was charged,” Horatio shot back.
“Are you all right, Jess?” Felix asked me.
“A little shaken. That’s all.”
“What is Jackson doing here?” was his next question. Jack continued his howling.
I noticed that Felix recognized the dog.
I said, “Otto got him from Weldon as a guard dog for me. I refuse to let the beast near me. It was Jack’s lunge that caused the gun to go off.” But was it? Had Anita used it as an excuse to try to kill me? It might even have been Otto’s hand that guided the shot. It had all happened so quickly I could not be sure.
Anita returned with the wine and I sipped it gratefully. I don’t know why, but it flew into my head that she could have poisoned it, since she brought only the one glass, and not the decanter. I immediately began imagining it tasted bitter, and set it aside.
“Let us have tea,” I said, as an excuse to leave it.
“Jolly good idea,” Felix said, and assisted me from the chair into the hallway, and thence to the purple saloon. Gregory and Anita followed us, regretting the accident, and adding a few comments that hinted it was all entirely Otto’s fault.
Horatio remained behind to put away the troublesome guns, and Otto took charge of Jack. I am not sure where he took the beast, but when he entered the saloon five minutes later, he was alone.
Chapter Fifteen
Anita did the honours of the tea-table, as I was too shaken to be trusted with the pot. It was a curiously unsettling interval. The air was dense with suspicion. Narrowed eyes glanced around the circle from face to face, asking tacit questions. Is he the one? Did she fire that shot on purpose? Long silences would be followed by a sudden eruption of two or three people into nervous speech at once, as if there were some desperate need to fill the silence.
Only Felix seemed isolated from it all. He sat hunched close to the grate, staring into the fire, as if he were alone in the room. I thought it must be nice, at a time like this, to be able to lose oneself so completely in another world. Yet to judge by his pensive frown, his world was not without its own problems.
With the shadows of evening falling beyond the windows, the purple saloon seemed more funereal than ever. I would change those horrid old purple window hangings, and perhaps paint the aged panelling a brighter color. I was to be mistress here for a year, and there was nothing in the will that forbade my making a few changes.
Felix was the first to leave. “There is something I want to look at in the library,” he mumbled, and left after one cup of tea. He had not eaten a bite.
“You had no luck finding Duke, Felix?” I asked, as he went towards the door.
“I’m afraid not. I shall have another look tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder, and kept going.
“Demmed odd, Duke’s disappearing,” Horatio said, tugging at his ear.
Anita looked at Gregory, then turned to the rest of us and said, “I was just thinking—as Jessica has definitely decided not to marry any of you, would it not be possible for her to sign an affidavit to that effect and get the money distributed before the end of a year?”
Gregory leaped on the idea at once. I had a distinct impression he had put her up to it. “Now that is an interesting idea. You might speak to Ogilvy about it, Jess.”
Otto gave him a knowing look. “You are a little interested in when you receive your share then, are you, Gregory?”
“A little interested, but not concerned,” Greg replied. “It was just an idea. Jess cannot be looking forward to being buried here for another twelve months.”
“It is a lady’s prerogative to change her mind. She may accept an offer. I doubt very much if what you suggest would be permitted in any case,” Otto said. "The terms of a will must be executed unless they are illegal or not feasible. It may be unfair to ask Jess to stay here another year, but it is neither illegal nor impossible.”
Some de
sultory conversation ensued. Gregory said he thought we ought to look into the matter, but I did not encourage him. I rather wanted that year to weigh the situation before making any decision.
I disliked the idea of being alone in my room again, and sat on without adding much to the meeting. Eventually Anita went upstairs to see that the servants had done her unpacking as she liked. She had brought more clothes with her, as I thought. Gregory followed her out within three minutes.
“I doubt much unpacking will get done,” Horatio grinned. “He’d have done better to leave her in Littlehorn, where they could meet in private more easily.”
“What did you do with the dog?” I asked Otto.
“Cook tied him up outside. He is used to the cold. Weldon kept him outdoors.”
“I hope you did not pay much for him. Will Weldon take him back?”
Otto shrugged. “I still think Jack will prove useful. Did you notice Felix recognized the dog when he came into the armaments-room? He asked if that was Jackson.”
“He has probably been to call on John Weldon. They seem to be bosom bows. Felix used to call on his papa.”
“Gentleman Jackson was kept by the kennel out back. An unlikely spot for a couple of scholars to discuss Plutarch, if Felix did visit Weldon.”
“Weldon would have taken him out to see the dogs,” I said.
“Very likely, for he has no real interest in—or knowledge of—scholastic matters. He ventured a word on Felix’s translation regarding Julius Caesar breaking into tears when he heard of the conquests of Alexander the Great. Weldon thought it was Alexander who had done the sobbing. Alexander was dead two and a quarter centuries before Caesar was even born. Alexander had many talents, but clairvoyance was not one of them. Shortly after that gaffe I offered Weldon a lift. Felix was quick to detain him. He was afraid Weldon would display his ignorance. When I tried to discuss Horace with Weldon this afternoon, he proved mighty reluctant. Yet he visits Felix regularly to argue fine points of the classics.”
“Perhaps Weldon is really trying to sell Felix a mount,” I said. “He breeds them too, and now that Felix has some money, he could buy one. He bought a carriage and team.”
“Don’t see what Weldon has to do with anything,” Horatio said, looking to his brother for elucidation. “There is no way Hettie’s death affects him.”
“I just thought it odd,” Otto said. “Odder still, Felix himself occasionally makes a gaffe. He mispronounced Damon, if you recall, although Plutarch specifically tells us it should be pronounced with the first syllable short.”
Horatio said, “Demme, Otto, the lad’s head is full of nothing but Latin and Greek. You are up to your tricks again, trying to poke holes in a fellow because he has made a name for himself. Plain and simple jealousy because you fancy yourself a bit of a classic scholar. Felix has worked hard for his success, and I for one don’t begrudge him his due.”
“Hear, hear,” I agreed. “Felix would not know what to do with Auntie’s money if he had it.”
“True,” Otto said, “he is strangely free of the vice of greed, but for the meanwhile, I say we keep an eye on all our suspects, not just Gregory. I don’t like this idea of Rampling throwing up a truckle-bed in your room, Jess. She might provide easy access for Gregory.”
“Do you not think that just a trifle obvious?” I said.
“Yes, I do, but they are not subtle, as his quick dash out of here not two steps behind her testifies. In fact, her being in Littlehorn in the first place was hardly subtle.”
“Nor was the duel, come to that,” Horatio added.
“Actually I had no intention of letting her share my room,” I said.
“We’ll keep the dog,” Otto said. “I plan to let Jack loose in the corridor tonight. That should prevent any unnecessary roaming about.”
“You will do nothing of the sort! I forbid it!”
“Then I shall keep him in my own room, with his nose to the door. Or do you feel your guardianship of Downsview includes even what goes on in your guests’ bedchambers?”
“As bad as Hettie,” Horatio grumbled. “Not that it will bother me. Once I hit the tick, I am out like a lamp.”
I said, “Now that I have announced my intention of not marrying anyone within the year, I think the troubles here are at an end.”
“Despite Greg’s efforts to get your signature on that affidavit, and my urgent need of five thousand?” Otto asked with a quizzing smile.
“Not urgent,” Horatio said. “Post-obits. And in the worst case, you know, Papa would come up to scratch. He is pleased at your settling down, Otto, even if he don’t say so.”
“I plan to keep my eyes open in any case,” Otto said. “I noticed today, for example, that Felix was not searching the park for Duke, as he told you he was going to do, Jess. I had a good look around. There are not that many trees that he would have been invisible. Where was he?”
“In some quiet corner, dipping into Plutarch,” Horatio offered.
“That is possible,” Otto admitted, “but we should not lose sight of the fact that Felix and Gregory are brothers. Felix might be concealing something, perhaps on the promise of remuneration.” I gave him a disparaging look and he added, “Blood is thicker than water.”
“You and me are brothers too,” Horatio pointed out. “Not that I am concealing anything, nor you either, Otto.”
If the best Otto could do was to imply Felix was an accessory to murder, I decided to leave him to his ravings. I left, but only went to the library to sit alone, gazing out at the park. The tree-tops stirred in the wind. I felt suffocated inside the house and wanted so very much to walk outdoors and feel that fresh wind on my cheek. It was not cold today. The ice had melted to puddles. Had Mrs. Manner felt like this when she took her last, fatal walk? This was no life; it was like being in prison.
Gregory and Anita had suggested that I should get away from Downsview, and I began to feel they were right. But where could I go? Certainly not to Ireland with Anita. The gentlemen were all bachelors, and none of them quite free of the taint of suspicion. I was angry that Otto had managed to cast even a shadow on Felix.
I paid little heed to his charge that Felix had made a few mistakes in his Latin. What were these mistakes? He had pronounced someone’s name as “Damon” instead of “Dammon.” But Latin was pronounced differently by different people. I remembered Hettie saying the papists used a different pronunciation than the universities. Even if Felix had forgotten a fact or two, what of it? The greater mystery to me was that he could carry all those quotations in his head.
More troubling was Otto’s hint that Felix might be helping Gregory by remaining silent. If Felix had not been in the park looking for Duke this afternoon, where had he been, and why had he felt it necessary to lie about his destination?
As I gazed into the gathering twilight, I saw a man coming through the park towards Downsview. He came from the direction of Weldon’s farm. The only person I could think of was John Weldon, but this was not his sturdy build, not his swaggering gait. The man seemed to be stumbling, as if he were hurt. My heart began knocking in my chest. Not another one! Please, God, not another murder!
I threw open the door and ran a few feet forward, peering behind me to make sure I was not being followed. I recognized the struggling man as Felix, and went to assist him into the library. He hung heavily on to my arm, scarcely able to walk. His face was bruised, but his gait told me the greater injury was to his abdomen.
“Felix, you were not shot!”
“No, beaten,” he gasped. “I went into the park for a breath of air.” I helped him to a chair where he sat a moment panting, with his face buried in his arms.
“Who did it?” I demanded.
“I don’t know. I couldn’t get a look at his face. He came at me from behind.”
“You must have seen him when he struck you in the face. You have a bruise over your left eye.”
“No, I didn’t see him. He threw something over my head, a bag of
some sort, and proceeded to pummel the daylights out of me.”
“I’ll call Doctor Culpepper at once, and the constable.”
He grabbed on to my arm. “No, Jess. Don’t.”
“But why not? You are dreadfully hurt! We cannot have a ruffian—or worse—lurking in the park.”
He looked up then, with such a pale, worried face, and such a frightened look in his green eyes that my heart went out to him. Felix was younger than the other nephews. In fact, he was a year younger than I. At that moment, he looked like a boy.
“If you just help me upstairs ...”
“Oh, Felix! Let me at least put a plaster on that cut.”
“That might be a good idea. But can you do it discreetly? I don’t want to cause a fuss. Absit invidia.”
I could hardly credit that he was spouting Latin at such a time. “What do you mean?”
“Let there be no ill will. No more ill will, I mean. I don’t want everyone suspecting everyone else, as they were this afternoon at tea. We were used to have such good times here together. I am sure it was a stranger, someone just after my money.”
“But he did not take your watch,” I pointed out. His watch-chain was still in place. “Did he take your purse?”
He felt in his pocket. “My purse is gone,” he announced. I knew he was lying, not only by his inability to meet my look, but because he kept his hand over his pocket to conceal the bulge that I felt sure was there.
I could only think of one person he would go to such lengths to defend, and that, of course, was his brother. But why would he defend even a brother who had done this to him? Had Gregory threatened him with death if he told whatever it was he knew?
“Do you think I might have a glass of wine? I feel rather faint.”
He looked very pale. I ran off to get the wine and a plaster. I meant to see where Gregory was before I did anything else, however. A quick look told me he was not downstairs. Abovestairs, his bedroom door was open; the room was empty. The only place he could be was in Anita Rampling’s room. I knocked sharply at her door. I heard a little bustle, then she said, “Come in.” She had thrown on a peignoir, but as her evening frock was already laid out on her bed, I thought she was dressing for dinner.