by Rhys Bowen
“All bulbs in this area,” he said. “All forced, of course, ready for Christmas. They go to market in the city early tomorrow morning so you can take your pick today.”
Winnie was attracted to the freesias, as I was. They gave off a beautiful sweet scent.
“Oh, I can just see these along the dinner table, can’t you?” she said, as our worker gathered up some for us.
“And you can’t leave without poinsettias,” Mr. Dexter said. “We’ve a whole greenhouse full of them. This way, please.”
We followed him out of one greenhouse to the next, this time full of splashes of various reds and pinks. Winnie chose six big red plants to add to her horde and then, at our host’s suggestion, some white chrysanthemums for contrast.
“Oh, this will be so lovely,” she said, clapping her hands like a small child. “Should we have them around the sitting room fireplace, do you think? Or in the windows? Or the front hall?”
“Let’s see where they look best when we get them home,” I said.
“Do you want me to load them behind the carriage or deliver them to you, Mrs. Van Aiken?” Mr. Dexter asked.
“Oh, I think we’d like to take them now, if you can secure them in boxes.”
“No problem at all, Mrs. Van Aiken. Delighted to oblige.”
The way he bowed made me think that Winnie was a good customer. “And now for those birds.”
We picked our way cautiously across another muddy yard to an enclosure where hundreds of chickens, ducks, and geese were pecking at the dirt. They rushed toward us, hoping to be fed. One of the geese was of an aggressive nature, pecking at lesser birds and then hissing at us.
“He looks about the right size,” I said to Winnie.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be sorry to see that one go,” Mr. Dexter said. “Goes straight for our shins the moment we step inside the pen. Some of my boys won’t even go in there.”
“Then we’ll save the world from aggressive geese,” Winnie said. “And two nice chickens as well.” She turned back to Daniel and me. “Cedric insists on his goose for Christmas because that was his family’s tradition, but I have to say that I prefer my ham and chicken. So we’ll have all three this year.” As we walked back to the front of the property Winnie added to her order a prime rib of beef and a pail of cream to be delivered as well on the next day, which would be Christmas Eve, of course. It was funny how living out here had made me forget that Christmas was almost upon us.
Winnie looked quite triumphant as we returned to Greenbriars. “I think we made good purchases, don’t you?” she said.
“I do. I’m overwhelmed. Do you think we’ll eat all this meat?”
“Of course. The beef should keep for a few days, maybe until New Year’s. You are staying for New Year’s, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “Bridie’s father is coming to take her home, so we must be back in New York in good time to get her ready.”
“Take her home?”
“To Ireland,” I said. “We’re all very sad about it. Bridie has been like my daughter for so long now.”
She reached across and touched my hand. “I do feel for you, my dear Molly. I know what it’s like to lose a beloved daughter. It is an ache in the heart that never goes away.”
I knew I was treading on very delicate ground, but it was a chance I couldn’t ignore. “I am so sorry,” I said. “I only just found out about your tragic loss. My heart goes out to you.”
A frown crossed her face. “I thought the whole world knew of our suffering,” she said. “That is one of the reasons we have stayed so much out of society since it happened. It is hard to bear constant pity.”
“I’m sure it is. But not as hard as constantly wondering what happened to your child.” There was a silence and I dared to ask, “What do you think happened to her?”
“I think she was taken away by somebody and I only hope that she’s being treated kindly.”
“You think she’s still alive?”
She turned to look out of the window. “I have to, don’t I? Otherwise I’d lose all hope.”
“Winnie,” I said softly, “I may be saying the wrong thing here. I’m rather noted for putting my foot in it.”
Daniel put a warning hand over mine and said, “Molly, don’t go on,” in a low voice.
I ignored him, as I have done on other such occasions, not all leading to successful outcomes. “I was going to say that my husband is a noted detective. I have detective skills of my own. If there is anything you think we might do, any way we could be of help, we are offering our services.”
“To find Charlotte, you mean?” For a second I saw a flash of hope cross her face, then the blank look returned. “But it was ten years ago. The trail is long cold.”
“What was done at the time?”
“Everything possible,” she said. “All the local people were kind enough to volunteer to search every inch of woodland in the area. But other than her little footprints there was no trace of anything, not even a piece of clothing she might have been wearing.”
“And nobody reported seeing the child when her picture was published in the newspapers?”
“Nobody.” Her expression was bleak. “That has to mean she has been taken far, far away if she is still alive. If she is still alive,” she repeated.
“Do you believe in your heart of hearts that she is?” I asked gently.
“Sometimes I really do. Then I dream of her grave, deep in the woods.”
My rational self was telling me to stop now, but I went on. “You don’t know of anybody who might have taken her?”
“Know of anybody? What kind of person?”
“Someone who was connected to your family? Who might have taken the child out of spite or revenge?”
“And never returned her? What kind of cruel monster would that be?”
“Winnie, I understand that your sister fled from the family, or was banished and never spoken of again.…”
“And you think that Lizzie might have come for my child? To spite the family?” she demanded. Her voice was shrill now. “Lizzie and I were close. We loved each other. She would never have tried to hurt me. Never.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should never have spoken my thoughts out loud. A bad habit of mine, as my husband will tell you.”
“I can vouch for that,” Daniel said. “She means well, but she leaps before she looks too often. And she has this burning desire for justice, to make everything right.”
Winnie smiled now. “Just like my aunt Florence,” she said. “You two have a lot in common.”
I let the subject drop then. I saw nowhere to go that would not cause more grief. Winnie had not leapt at the offer of help and she was clearly at a loss as to what had happened to her child. It was highly possible that her dream had been the true answer—that a monster snatched the little girl and that her remains now lay in a wooded glade.
Thirteen
As the carriage pulled up outside the house, we were met by Cedric, striding out to meet us with a look of extreme displeasure on his face.
“There you are at last,” he called, his voice echoing in the still air. “And where have you been?”
“I went to Briarcliff Farms to make the final arrangements for the poultry, and to choose some flowers for the table,” Winnie said as the coachman helped her down from the carriage.
Cedric came up to her, standing over her. “You went without Aunt Florence? You went alone?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan were kind enough to accompany me.”
“I see.” He paused, looking up at us now being helped from the carriage. “Did it not occur to you to ask if I might need the carriage first?”
“You were asleep when we left, Cedric.”
“Not asleep. I was in my study writing letters,” he said.
“I had no idea you needed the carriage. You did not say so.”
“I had a package arriving for me on the train this mo
rning. From my tailor in New York.” He sounded quite put out.
“If you had mentioned it, I would have been happy to have gone into Scarborough and picked it up for you,” she said.
“I’m sure I did mention it to you. Really, Winnie, you are becoming quite forgetful these days.”
She stared at him, stony-faced. “If you wish the carriage now, it’s all yours.” Then she turned to the coachman. “Put the flowers in the front hall, Johnson.”
“Very good, ma’am,” he said.
Then she flounced ahead of us into the house. Cedric turned to us, slightly embarrassed that we had witnessed this scene. “I must apologize,” he said. “I don’t know what has gotten into my wife. It is not in her nature to go running off without telling anyone. And she is becoming so forgetful too.” He came closer to us. “Frankly I am worried about her. These bouts of depression are becoming more frequent.…”
“Maybe she needs to get out into society more,” I said. “Have you thought about taking an apartment in the city for a while? I and my friends would be happy to keep her amused.”
“You are most kind, but I cannot abide the noise and dirt of the city,” he said. “I have tried to keep abreast of the social calendar out here in Westchester County, but Winnie shows little interest in making friends or even attending social gatherings.”
“Have you considered an alienist for your wife?” Daniel asked. “I understand that they have made great strides in treating the mind these days.”
“Of course I have suggested it, many times, but she flatly refused.” Cedric gave a long sigh. “I would gladly have brought in the best man from Europe if it could make her well and happy again.”
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with her mind,” I said. “She is clearly still in mourning for her lost child. The worst thing in the world is not knowing.”
“Ah, so you have been told about the child,” he said. “I wondered if you knew. Yes, that is the cause of her depression, but one would think, after ten years, that she would be able to put it behind her. I have done so. It requires strength of character, which maybe she doesn’t possess.”
I thought of Winnie’s dominant father, of her sister who cut off all ties with the family. Maybe Winnie did not have her sister’s strength. She was sent off to school quite young when Aunt Florence was banished. So essentially she grew up with no one to love or support her. And from what I had observed of Cedric, he was hardly the doting husband.
I glanced at the carriage and had an idea. “If it would be any help, we are already dressed for travel. We would be happy to go into Scarborough and retrieve your package for you. As I said to your wife, we have no carriage of our own and a carriage ride is a novelty for us.”
“Would you really? That is most kind of you,” he said. “And I do have some letters that need to be mailed, if I could possibly ask you to take on that task as well? Then when you return I have promised the children that we will build a snowman, if the snow cooperates and stays long enough.”
As he went into the house Daniel turned to me. “What are you up to now?” he asked.
“I thought it couldn’t do any harm to ask some questions in Scarborough. And they do have a resident constable you could visit.”
He turned to face me. “Molly, you heard what she said. Nobody knows anything. It was ten years ago and there were no clues.”
“You’re wrong, Daniel,” I said. “Somebody must know something. If someone did abduct the child and then murdered her, then that person knows where her body is buried. And if someone took her away in a vehicle or on the train, then somebody, somewhere, saw them.”
“So what do you plan to do now? Ride the rails up and down the Hudson until you find someone?” He gave me a disparaging smile.
“I’m going to do what I can, within reason,” I said. “You see that poor woman. She has given up on life. If I can do anything to make her feel better, I will.”
“Did it not occur to you that she might have a real disease of the mind that is above your skill to cure?”
I couldn’t answer that, but the thought nagged at the back of my mind as Cedric handed us his letters. I noticed that one of them was to a Dr. Heggenburger. Was this possibly an alienist? I wondered. And then a worrying thought came to me. Cedric seemed genuinely concerned about his wife’s sickness, but he wouldn’t be the first man who got rid of an inconvenient wife by having her committed to an asylum. In the state of New York all it took was a signature from a doctor and a husband to have a wife locked away for life. And perhaps Cedric Van Aiken would like to be rid of a wife who could give him no more children and for whom he had lost all affection. Again I realized I was jumping to conclusions. Cedric’s upbringing might just have produced a man who fought to keep his emotions under control and not express his feelings in public.
“Drive Captain and Mrs. Sullivan into town now, Johnson,” Cedric said.
“Very good, sir.” The coachman remained stony-faced as he assisted us back into the carriage. As we set off again Daniel shook his head. “This is becoming more unpleasant by the minute, is it not?” he said.
I had been staring out of the window, observing the stream that crossed the front lawns. The stream, which had been frozen at the time and at which the small footprints stopped. The weather wasn’t so cold this year and the stream was still unfrozen, bouncing and splashing over rocks as it continued downhill to join the Hudson. But it wasn’t deep. I tried to picture the child stepping tentatively onto the ice, the ice giving way.… She could have fallen in and even drowned, but her body would not have been swept far away. It would have been found quickly. I turned back to my husband.
“I don’t like it, Daniel,” I said. “First, one could see that there was little affection expressed between husband and wife, and you observed that she was afraid of him. That was just borne out when he suspected she had been out alone, but now I’m worried that he is trying to prove her mentally unstable.”
“Why would he try to do that?”
“So that he could have her committed to a mental asylum and be free of her,” I said. “Her father made a fortune, so I presume he is now enjoying her money.”
”That’s an awful accusation to make, Molly. And I think you do him an injustice. The poor fellow is clearly genuinely concerned for her,” Daniel said. “If he is seeking a doctor for her, it is surely with the best of intentions and hoping for her cure. After all, she has demonstrated signs of mental instability.”
“Staying in her room on the anniversary of the day her child vanished?” I demanded. “I might very well do the same thing. Would you have me put away because I’ve been mourning the loss of a baby I never saw or held?”
“Of course not,” he said.
“We must do what we can to help her, Daniel. And if only we could find something that would put her mind at ease, some clue that could lead to her missing daughter.…” I reached across and touched his hand. “Promise me that you will at least speak with the local constable.”
He sighed. “Very well. I will speak with him, but I can’t see what good it could do.”
We came to the bottom of the hill and into the few houses that constituted the village. A train had just arrived from New York and we watched people rushing forward to greet friends and loved ones arriving for the holiday celebration. The few shops were doing a lively trade and a young boy passed us, dragging a fir tree on a sled. From the church came the sound of an organ, practicing Christmas carols. I was reminded that the day was drawing near. I wondered if it could possibly be a merry one.
As we left the carriage I sent Daniel off to find the police constable while I went into the station. I asked the stationmaster about Cedric’s package and he sent the porter to find it for me. While I was waiting I mentioned that we were staying at Greenbriars for the holidays and commented that I thought the Van Aikens were brave to host a party when Christmas was such a tragic time for them.
“You’re right there, ma’am,�
� he said. “This whole community was thrown into shock when it happened. Everybody was suspicious of everyone else. People started muttering that Old Dan had been acting strangely or that this person was later coming home than he should have been. And of course we all joined in the search, scouring every inch of those woods, but she was never found.”
“Were you working at the station that evening?” I asked. “Do you recall anything unusual? Anybody who asked directions to Greenbriars? Anybody you hadn’t seen before?”
He shook his head. “Can’t recall anybody asking directions to Greenbriars, but then there are always traps outside waiting to transport people. And as for people I didn’t know, well, you see what it’s like today. It’s always a bit chaotic around Christmas, you know, plenty of visitors coming to join family. And I went off work at six. So I would have been home by the time the child disappeared.”
“And nobody reported seeing the little girl at the station that evening?”
“Well, young Jeff, who was porter here at the time, did say he’d seen a man and a child getting onto the upriver train together round about nine o’clock, but he always was a bit fanciful. He once saw mermaids out in the Hudson.”
“A man and a child, going away from the city?”
“That’s right.”
“Was the child a girl?”
“He couldn’t tell. The kid was wrapped in a big blanket and seemed to be sleeping so he couldn’t tell how old it was or whether it was a boy or girl.”
“I see. So it could possibly have been the Van Aikens’ daughter and she could have been knocked out with chloroform or a sleeping draft.”
His eyes widened at this suggestion. “I suppose so. From what he said it sounded more like a baby than a girl of three. Carried like a baby, that’s what Jeff said. And I believe the police did follow up on it at stations up the line, but nothing ever came of it.”