by Tony Evans
He filled glasses for the four of us and continued. ‘Tell me, Jonathan, is your assignment in St Ives merely a matter of drawing up a marriage settlement?’
‘You’re very perceptive, Charles,’ I replied. ‘As you have correctly deduced, such a task could easily have been done by a local solicitor. I confess that I do have a further object, which I am sure that you will both treat as a matter of confidence.’
After I had explained the real reason for my visit, Edith took another sip of her port and leaned back in her chair. ‘It seems to me that there may be as much to be discovered in London as there is in Cornwall,’ she observed. ‘After all, Sir Owen Velland only returned to Gwithian five years ago. Should there not be an investigation of his background?’
‘You are right, and I am pleased to say that the matter is in hand. Last week, as soon as I agreed to investigate Sir Owen, I contacted a very good friend of mine, late of Amsterdam and now resident in London. His name is Professor Van Helsing. The professor has promised to look into Sir Owen’s career prior to his inheritance of the baronetcy and to send his report to me care of the George Hotel, St Ives. I expect to receive it very shortly.’
‘I seem to have heard the professor’s name before,’ Edith said. ‘Tell me, was he not one of the gentlemen who helped you dispose of the notorious Count?’
‘He was indeed,’ I replied. ‘But for Van Helsing’s invaluable knowledge and assistance, it is unlikely that I would have survived the experience.’
‘Then we are all in his debt,’ Edith said. ‘Now, Charles, are you to tell our guests what we know about the mysterious baronet, or am I?’
‘I am happy to begin,’ her husband said. ‘I am sure you will add anything I omit to mention. The fact is, Jonathan, we really know very little about Sir Owen Velland which is not already a matter of public record and which Mr Haywood will no doubt be able to confirm when you meet with him tomorrow. I see Sir Owen when he is at Sunday service at St Elwyn Church – his attendance is irregular at best – but we rarely exchange more than a few words. Sir Owen succeeded to the baronetcy when his father died in September 1890, just over five years ago. His mother died when he was an infant. Owen left home when he was thirteen and went to Harrow, followed by Cambridge University. After that he lived in London, where I understand he occupied himself with scientific and philosophical pursuits without practising a profession. I believe he returned to Cornwall to visit his father once or twice a year.’
Mina interrupted our friend. ‘Mr Velland – as he then was – must have enjoyed a private income,’ she said.
‘I really couldn’t say. Certainly his father was far from wealthy,’ Charles said.
Edith looked at her husband. ‘It is said that Mr Arnold Paxton is the real source of Sir Owen’s money.’
Charles nodded. ‘Let me explain. Arnold Paxton is Sir Owen’s cousin, somewhat older than the baronet, and he moved back to Carrick Manor with Sir Owen. Paxton is an invalid and is even less inclined to leave Carrick Manor than his cousin. It is indeed rumoured that Arnold Paxton is a very wealthy man – he is a bachelor – but neither he nor the baronet live with any undue ostentation. Sir Owen is rarely seen in St Ives.’
‘And how does the baronet occupy his time?’ I asked.
Charles frowned. ‘He continues his scientific pursuits, and the Reverend Trewellard tells me that Sir Owen has equipped a small chemical laboratory at Carrick Manor. I have not myself seen it, as the baronet is disinclined for company – Trewellard excepted.’
Mina helped herself to an apple from the fruit bowl in the centre of the table. ‘Is it correct that Sir Owen has quite recently suffered a sad bereavement?’
Charles looked across the table at his wife, and reading his subtle signal she took it upon herself to reply.
‘Yes indeed. It was a very tragic case and it received wide publicity. Afterwards Sir Owen became even more reclusive, which is hardly surprising. The facts are these. After the baronet had been back in Cornwall for a year, he married a young woman from West Cornwall, Ruth Lethbridge. She was only twenty two years old – considerably younger than Sir Owen. She came from a good Penzance family – the Lethbridges have been landowners in the area since the seventeenth century – but it is not thought that she brought a substantial sum of money to the marriage. Then eighteen months later, in March 1893, her body was found one morning at the foot of the cliffs on the edge of the Carrick Estate. Sir Owen confirmed that Lady Velland had been discovered sleepwalking on a number of occasions: indeed, she was normally locked in her room at night for her own safety. On that occasion the housekeeper forgot to do so, with the tragic result that I have described.’
‘How did Sir Owen and Ruth Lethbridge first meet?’ I asked. ‘They sound an ill-matched couple.’
Edith thought for a moment. ‘Let me see. I recall hearing that on one of his rare excursions Sir Owen Velland had attended a public lecture in Penzance and was introduced to Mr and Mrs Lethbridge and their daughter, who were also present.’
‘I take it there was some ill-feeling in the neighbourhood towards Sir Owen after his young wife died in such tragic circumstances?’ I asked.
Charles snorted. ‘Some ill-informed feeling, certainly,’ he said. ‘After all, Ruth chose to become Lady Velland of her own free will. I’m afraid that in a rural community such as ours, the baronet’s combination of reserve, arcane interests and domestic tragedy was always likely to give rise to a popular prejudice against him. Shortly after he returned to Cornwall he was involved in a dispute over a piece of land with a local farmer. The poor fellow lost his wits over the business – and a good deal of nonsense was talked about Sir Owen’s part in the matter.’
‘I suppose his recent engagement to Flora Haywood has not been generally welcomed?’ Mina said.
‘No indeed,’ Charles replied. ‘It has not helped that until recently she was known to have had an understanding with Dr Goodwin, a very popular young doctor in St Ives. Still, the friendship between Sir Owen Velland and the Reverend Trewellard must count in the baronet’s favour.’
Edith stood up and walked to the fireplace, adding a log from the pile stacked on the hearth. She took up the poker and stirred the fire into a blaze. ‘No doubt. However, the Reverend Trewellard can afford to think the best of everyone, since he commands a position which all must respect. As for me, I will reserve judgment on Sir Owen and would advise Jonathan to do likewise. Now, if we have all had enough of baronets and mysteries, perhaps we could try a hand or two of whist before the evening ends?’
*
That night, while I lay in bed gazing at the gnarled oak beams that snaked across the ceiling, I thought back to the letter that Nathanial Haywood had sent to my senior partner, Mr Joplin. I reminded myself that in the morning I had an appointment with Mr Haywood in St Ives, during which he would no doubt tell me more about his concerns regarding Sir Owen Velland. As I turned over to compose myself for sleep, the distant hooting of a solitary owl felt strangely comforting. That and the soft breathing of Mina next to my pillow eased me gently into slumber.
To download the book and continue reading click here.