Behold, a Mystery!

by Joan Smith

  I looked over my shoulder, but saw no one. “Are you saying Anita was spying on us?”

  "Tit for tat. You spied on her.”

  “I did nothing of the sort. You were carrying on in public—and you knew perfectly well she is Gregory’s mistress, too.”

  “Much safer to dally with either a wife or a mistress. If you can call it dallying.”

  “I did not notice much dallying to be sure. I expect you got down to business in a hurry.”

  “She wanted me to talk you into signing the affidavit to free up Hettie’s money. Flirtation is the only weapon she is aware of, when dealing with a man.”

  “And the most likely to appeal to you!”

  “Do you know, you are beginning to sound marvellously jealous, Jess?”

  I ignored it. “Why should she think I would listen to you, of all people?”

  “Why indeed, when you have such luminaries as Felix to whisper in your ear, but so it is. I am richer than the others, and will have a title one day. Such gents are considered the better partis, and ladies will often listen to a gentleman—until they have got him shackled.”

  “I have no intention of marrying you.”

  Glancing back to the saloon door, I thought I discerned some motion there. “She has been peering round the door-jamb all the while,” Otto said, biting back a grin.

  “You mean she really saw us!” I gasped, and felt myself blush.

  “I fancy she did. She has a sharp eye in her head. Mind you, she is in no position to complain. A case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

  "This is intolerable!”

  “Yes, isn’t it?” he agreed. Without a single sign of shame he put his hand under my elbow to lead me back to the saloon. I did not see any sign of Anita, and thought he had only said so to annoy me. He lowered his head and said in an intimate way, “Next time we shall arrange our tryst more privately.”

  "There won’t be a next time.”

  He drew to a stop. “Now there you are very much mistaken, my pet. I take leave to warn you, you have only whetted my appetite by that niggardly little kiss.”

  I gave a mental gasp at what he considered a niggardly little kiss. “It is odd this appetite only revealed itself after the reading of Hettie’s will, Otto.”

  “On the contrary. I planned to speak to you before Hettie was killed. You recall I told you there was something I wished to say to you? But our drive was cancelled.”

  “You must take me for a fool. You had no intention of offering for me.”

  “It was always my intention—no, let us say hope, for intention is too presumptuous—to marry you.”

  “And for a decade you delayed? How very dilatory of you.”

  “I could hardly offer for a girl sixteen years old!” he shot back angrily. "To be fair, I was not really certain we would suit until three years ago. I was still wet behind the ears myself. It was not until I had done some mental comparing with other ladies I met in London that I realized—” He stopped, just when I hoped to hear him say he loved me.

  “I was completely tied up with my journal by then. My finances were uncertain, and I could not give that degree of attention to a bride that she deserved.”

  My pride listened to all this with a satisfaction bordering on glee, but common sense prevented me from believing it. “If you did love me, you would have come more often than once a year.”

  “I wrote to Hettie about seeing you. She forbade it. She said I was welcome to marry you, but she would not have me turning your head and putting off other suitors until I was in a position to offer. Of course she hoped to palm Greg off on you. She also wrote some rather unpleasant things about my trying to wring a dowry out of her by the offer, to squander on my journal.”

  It sounded exactly like Hettie, but there was something in his pretty speech that did not ring true, and I soon pinpointed it. “How did you feel you were in a position to offer this year, with a lawsuit for five thousand pounds hanging over your head?”

  “I am thirty-one years old, Jess, and you are not exactly a deb. If we waited until our path was entirely smooth, we might be old and grey, for there is always something to cause a delay. You were not accustomed to luxury. If some skimping and cheese-paring are necessary, I felt you would not object. It seemed time to make my offer.”

  “Five thousand pounds would require more than cheeseparing.”

  He batted it away as if it were a midge. “That will come to nothing. It is a tempest in a teapot.”

  “A mere tempest!”

  He pokered up then. “If you choose not to believe me, then I have nothing more to say. It is entirely possible Hettie saved my letters. You might have a look for them among her papers.”

  “I am hardly that interested,” I lied, and we returned to the saloon in stony silence.

  Anita turned a sharp eye on us. “Wherever have you been, Jessica?” she demanded. I could not tell whether she knew, or if it was only my absence that annoyed her.

  “I was just seeing Felix off. He has gone to call on Weldon.”

  She suggested a game of whist. Horatio seconded it. Everyone seemed agreeable, but I had other things on my mind. I wanted to search through Hettie’s private papers and see if I could find those letters from Otto.

  “You have four people without me,” I said. “I really do not feel like cards this evening. I have still not written all the death notices. I shall be in Aunt Hettie’s study if I am needed.”

  “Why do you not write them here, where there is a fire and company?” Anita suggested.

  “If there is not a fire in the study I may do that,” I said, and escaped, with one last scalding look from Otto.

  There was a small fire in the study. Felix spent so much time there that Juteclaw kept it going. I went to the desk and rooted through a welter of bills and letters. Everything was in a terrible jumble. Looking over her correspondence was like reliving the past ten years of my life. I found the letter Mama had written to Hettie before she died, asking if Hettie would take me. There were others letters from Mama, arranging the details.

  “You will find Jessica a good girl. She will give you no trouble, and she is a willing worker. She is my greatest treasure, Hettie. Please be kind to her.”

  Hettie had fulfilled Mama’s last request. She had been kind, but her last generosity had brought more trouble than she ever thought. I could not find any letters from Otto, but that did not mean he had not written. I wanted very much to believe he had. Gregory, I knew, wrote often, and none of his letters were here either. She had either destroyed them, or they were in her bedchamber. I would have a look there before retiring.

  I felt upset, and looked for the wine decanter that is usually on the desk. It was not there, but I soon espied it on top of a bookcase just inside the door. Juteclaw must have been in a hurry. I had a glass of wine to settle my nerves. I thought it would be sherry, which was what Hettie drank, but it was Madeira. I found it too sweet, and only drank half a glass, then threw the rest on the fire.

  From the hallway, I noticed the whist game was proceeding quietly. I did not disturb them, but told Juteclaw I was retiring, and he might tell the others so if they asked. I also asked him to let me know when Felix returned, for I was worried about him. “You can tell Mary. She’ll inform me.”

  “That I will, miss.”

  As I mounted the stairs, I suddenly realized how very tired I was. It had not been a physically active day, but the mental and emotional strains were fatiguing. The search of Hettie’s correspondence could wait until morning. I locked my bedroom and lay down on the bed. I would wait until I heard Felix was home safely before undressing. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In my dream, I wandered through a tractless void of fog, with nothing to guide me. My eyes could not see, but I felt with my heart a trembling fear, as of evil lurking in the mist around me. It advanced on soundless feet, creeping closer, closer. I ran, heart pounding, until I could run no more. As th
e fog receded, I found myself in the centre of a large circle, surrounded by black-jacketed gentlemen with eyeless faces. Each man carried a gold band between his teeth. Each set of lips was lifted in a frozen smile, but behind the smiling, eyeless facades lurked danger. The circle began to move withershins around me. There was no exit from the circle, no way out.

  The eyeless men increased their speed until they were whirling recklessly, their tailcoats turned to a cloud of flowing skirts. I watched helplessly as the teeth holding the golden bands lengthened, grew to a wicked point, then began advancing on me, like a pack of mad dogs.

  I shrank to the ground, trying to protect my vulnerable throat from those menacing fangs. From the lurking fog beyond the circle, a bloodied canine beast slouched forward, then rose up on its powerful hind legs and lunged. Droplets of cold blood bespattered my face. I tried to shout, but terror constricted my throat. Only a muling whine issued from my lips.

  I was aware of hands seizing me, shaking me, thrusting me into the maw of that canine beast. I leaped up from my pillow, bathed in perspiration, to see Anita Rampling bending over my bed. She had a bowl of water in her hand, which she was sprinkling in my face. Behind her, Felix watched in mute horror.

  “Thank God she is all right,” he gasped, and brushed past Anita to grab my two hands while I looked on, trying to distinguish reality from nightmare. Felix held no ring between his teeth; his eyes were not only where they ought to be, but were full of sympathy. A shudder of relief washed through me.

  I gazed in bewilderment from one to the other, then past them to the closed door, like the closed circle of my dream. But here the closed space felt safe, I knew, at some deep level of consciousness, that what I was looking for was Otto.

  I sat silent a moment to collect myself, then asked in a weak voice, “What happened? What time is it?”

  “It is only half past ten,” Anita said. “Juteclaw sent Mary to tell you Felix was back. When she found your door locked and she could not rouse you, she told Juteclaw. He let us in. Jessica, my dear, I fear it was no normal sleep. Did you take laudanum?”

  “Of course not! I never take it.”

  “That is what Mary said. We believe, Felix and I, that you were poisoned.”

  “But that is impossible! I only ate what the rest of you ate. Are the others all right?”

  “No one else was poisoned,” she said, and stared at me with unblinking eyes to reinforce her meaning. “Think, Jessica! Was there nothing you took before coming upstairs? A cup of tea, a glass of wine ...”

  I remembered then. “Yes, a glass of Madeira when I was in the study looking for—for some note-paper,” I said, because I had no intention of telling them I was looking for Otto’s letters. “You recall I had some letters to write, Anita.”

  “Madeira?” Felix asked. “But it is sherry that is in the study. I had a glass this afternoon and felt no ill effects.”

  “No, it was Madeira,” I insisted.

  “She is still raving,” Felix said quietly aside to Anita.

  “Go to the study and see, Felix,” Anita said. “I’ll stay with her. Mind you don’t tell the others.” Felix left.

  “Then Ot—the others don’t know?” I asked.

  “We did not tell them. Juteclaw told Felix, since it was him you were concerned about. I had come up to my room for a shawl, and asked him what he was doing at your door. Jessica,” she said, crouching on the edge of my bed and leaning her face into mine, “you really must get away from here. It isn’t safe. No one can watch every bite one eats, and everything one sips. I have been distracted with worry about you.”

  “I think you are right. I really must get away.”

  "The best thing is to marry. That will settle the troublesome terms of your aunt’s will. Now I know you are not interested in a real marriage, and I think I have got the answer. Marry Gregory. It will be a marriage in name only. He won’t bother you in that way,” she said. I knew what way she meant.

  “No, really—” I protested weakly.

  “It would suit perfectly. We could all have such a jolly time together. Gregory is not greedy. He would not expect to control the whole fortune. Say an even split, fifty-fifty. You are both ahead, for if you do not marry, you only get a fifth of the money.”

  “No, I could not—”

  She saw the doubt in my eyes, and continued her urgent persuasions. “You are afraid he would murder you,” she said bluntly. “He is not so brave. All you have to do is make a will bequeathing your half of the fortune to someone else, then there would be no advantage to him in killing you.”

  Even in my state of confusion, I could see some merit myself behind her thinking. Within a few moments, I also saw that while I lived, Anita and Greg could not marry. If he killed me, however, he could marry Anita and still have half the fortune. Was it Anita and Gregory who had doctored that Madeira? Having failed at murder, were they trying to get the money by this new ruse? I remembered thinking earlier that if I pretended to go along with marrying Gregory, he would leave me alone for the present at least, until I could get away.

  Or was her plan even deeper and darker than this? She had been embracing Otto earlier this same evening. If she got me married off to Gregory, then she and Otto ... But my mind was too disordered to see any financial advantage to her in that scheme, except that she could always whistle Gregory back, and pick his pocket by means of smiles and kisses.

  “It is certainly something to think about,” I said.

  “We could get a special licence tomorrow,” she urged.

  “I feel so very weak, Anita. Let us discuss it in the morning.” I lay back on the pillow and closed my eyes, hoping she would leave me alone.

  Felix was back inside of two minutes, holding the decanter of wine. “It is sherry,” he announced. “I tasted it. Here, see for yourself.” He handed the decanter to Anita.

  She removed the stopper, sniffed it, and passed it under my nose. It was indeed sherry, but there had been a decanter of Madeira there earlier.

  “I really should get back to the whist table,” Anita said. “They will be wondering what is keeping me. Are you all right now, dear?”

  “I’ll stay with her a moment,” Felix said.

  “Be sure you leave the door open,” the model of propriety advised.

  “I am fully dressed, Anita,” I said, and got up from the bed to remove any taint of lechery, in case anyone should pass the door and see us.

  She gave my arm a squeeze and said in a conspiratorial manner, “We shall talk about it tomorrow. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

  She whisked off downstairs to tell Gregory the news. I noticed she was wearing her pretty mohair shawl, the same one she had been wearing all evening. She had not come upstairs to get a shawl. She had seen Mary and Juteclaw in excited conversation, and come to investigate—perhaps to see if her plan had succeeded.

  Felix was obviously not at ease being alone in a lady’s bed chamber. “You gave us such a fright, Jess,” he said. “Why do I not get Mary to sleep in your room tonight? I shan’t sleep a wink myself for worry about you.”

  “Felix, there was a decanter of Madeira in that study,” I said.

  “Then someone switched it before I returned.”

  “Gregory took a dozen bottles of Madeira up from the cellar this afternoon,” I said. I did not accuse him outright, but let the words speak for themselves. A puzzled frown seized his face. I thought about what had happened and said, “Actually Gregory had no reason to think I would be in the study. You are the one who usually works there. Felix, that laudanum was meant for you! When he failed to kill you in the meadows, he resorted to poison.”

  “But Greg knows I dislike Madeira,” he said simply. He did not deny that it was Gregory who had attacked him that afternoon, however.

  “Oh.” That brought me to a halt. “Does Anita know?”

  “I have no idea. We are hardly on close terms.” After a slight pause he said, “What were you doing in the study,
Jessica?”

  I found I could not tell the truth, even to Felix, so I spoke of what I had found, not what I was looking for. “Reading some letters from Mama. I mean to keep them, for sentimental reasons.”

  “I don’t think it is Gregory who is behind this latest trick,” he said. “He is not a subtle man.”

  “That is odd—Otto said the same thing.” Perhaps they were right. It was hardly subtle to come right out and suggest a marriage of convenience. His only subtlety was to use Anita as his negotiator.

  “There is subtlety afoot here.” Felix said. “Ars est celare artem. True art is to conceal art. Perhaps the doctored wine was not meant for me, but put in the study to incriminate me—or to cause confusion, to distract us from the one who is truly at danger. You. All they think of is money, and you are the key to the fortune. Did the Farrs know about Gregory taking the Madeira? This could be a trick to aim the finger at him.”

  “Horatio did. He had a bottle taken to the armaments-room. He might have mentioned it to Otto.”

  “They used that bottle to fill the decanter they put in the study.”

  "That is possible. I might have died had I drunk a whole glass, or say two. I only took half a glass.”

  “Thank God for it! Why was that?” he asked. “I thought ladies liked a sweet wine.”

  “I don’t. Hettie always served sherry, and I have come to prefer it.”

  “I still feel it was intended for you. I am pretty sure the Farrs know of my aversion to Madeira. Gregory took some bottles from the cellar, you say?”

  “A dozen bottles, according to Mary.”

  “Then we cannot rule him out either, but who would want to incriminate me?” I said nothing, but I remembered Otto had made disparaging remarks about Felix on more than one occasion. “It was either Gregory or the Farrs,” he continued. “I feel sure the decanter was destined for your chamber. If it was not put in the study to incriminate me, it may have been just a handy place to leave it for the nonce.”