“No, I don’t think she will either. She obviously is aware of his deranged oddities, so she was not surprised. She seemed to think a brief separation might make him more amenable to her charms, or so I gathered.”
Holmes nodded. “Good. It is best she still has her hopes for a union with Mr. Caswall.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say it keeps her content with the status quo.”
I shook my head. “More mysteries. Oh, and I just sent Michelle a telegram, begging her to come.”
“Excellent, Henry—excellent! It should reach her before your letter, which I posted this morning. Her female perspective would be most useful at this point. Perhaps the two of you can untangle this whole business between Adam Selton and Diana Marsh. That is certainly not my province.”
“And what did you find out in Whitby?”
“That my suspicions were correct. Miss Marsh’s income is just right.” I must have appeared confused, for he explained. “As with Goldilocks and the bears. Besides owning the estate, she receives nine hundred pounds a year.”
“Not to be sniffed at,” I said. “Only the most successful doctors on Harley Street earn that much.”
“Selton senior must make five or ten times that. I told the solicitor, Mr. Fitch senior, that I was assisting Miss Marsh and was concerned about her well-being. He was most obliging. Robert Marsh’s will is, of course, a public document, and he let me examine it at some length. Marsh left everything first to his wife, then to his daughter in a very straightforward way. There is no entail on the estate, so Miss Marsh may inherit it. Of course, were she to marry Adam Selton, it would become his—a pittance, however, compared to what he will inherit from his father. I also asked if Miss Marsh had made a will of her own. He said she had. He could not show it to me, but said it was a standard sort of will for a young lady, with the usual clauses.”
“So, she has no great fortune.”
“No. I also took the opportunity to visit the local constabulary and talk with its chief. He had heard something about a Druid-type group in the vicinity, but he did not realize how far things had gone. Nor had he connected the disappearance of cattle and sheep to these worshipers. I asked him if he could arrange to have a couple of his best men at the ready, should I need their assistance if I felt something criminal was about to occur, and he agreed to arrange it. My reputation is sometimes useful.”
“I don’t like any of this,” I murmured. “This is definitely not turning out to be a simple holiday in the wilds of Yorkshire.”
We ate silently for a while. I downed the last of my beer and noticed the publican watching me sullenly. “I suppose he’s one of the pagan followers,” I said. “Oh, let’s get out of here, Sherlock. It’s too fine a day to be inside.”
He nodded, then swallowed the last of his beer and set down the heavy glass. “I would like to stop at Doom Tower. We have not spoken to Sir Nathaniel since the vicar’s revelations. I am certain the old man knows a great deal more than he let on before.”
Doom Tower was only about a fifteen-minute walk. The elderly servant greeted us, slowly plodded away, and returned several minutes later. His master was indisposed, not feeling well, but hoped to be better the next day. He wondered if we might join him for dinner around six. Holmes accepted the invitation, and then we set out for Lesser Hill.
The weather was glorious again, and the path often wound along the top of the cliffs. The sea was at our right, the sound of the waves coming in and out, and the countryside to our left. The wind never seemed still along this part of the coast. We could hear its soft murmur in the tall grasses, which stood upright, quivering in the constant breeze. Occasionally we passed green fields where a few cows or sheep grazed. This land was hardly as harsh or barren as the upper moors along the wind-swept ridges covered with brown grass or bracken. We passed briefly through a small shaded wood, crossing a stone bridge over a dappled stream that bubbled and gurgled as it flowed down toward the sea. The sun coming through the trees made their leaves a study in chiaroscuro: the white-yellow light illuminating the tops, the bottoms all dark shadow. The walk did relax me. All the turmoil and lunacy of human society were briefly set aside.
We reached Lesser Hill and found Diana still with Adam in a small drawing room. Her face was faintly flushed, and she was much happier than when I had left. One look at Selton, however, showed that something was amiss. “Mr. Holmes, Dr. Vernier, I need to speak with you.” He turned. “Diana, could you give us a moment alone.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Something… has come up. I need to speak to Mr. Holmes in private.”
“Must we have secrets between us?” Her voice was pained.
He shook his head. “They are not secrets, exactly, but… And yes, there must always be some secrets, even toward those who are dear to us.”
Her hands made fists. She looked at me. “Dr. Vernier, do you think that is true? Do you and your wife have secrets between you?”
I grimaced slightly, annoyed at being dragged into the battle, but then I considered the question. “Yes, I’m afraid we do.”
“How can that be?”
“There are always things we don’t want to share with others, especially when they have to do with our own weaknesses and stupidities. These can be embarrassing and incomprehensible even to us, but to reveal them to another… No, some things must remain secret.”
My answer obviously disappointed her. “Please, Diana,” Selton said. “It won’t take long.”
“Oh, very well.” She stood, imperiously, then swept from the room, closing the door behind her rather hard.
Selton walked over to a writing table and pulled out a sheet of paper. “This letter came this afternoon while we were walking on the beach.”
Holmes picked up the paper, held it before him with his long, slender fingers as he read. He nodded, then handed it to me.
Adam Selton,
Sherlock Holmes cannot save you from one of the cursed Marsh daughters. He cannot begin to understand what you are up against. He will only watch, powerless, as you hurtle toward your doom. Send him away and escape while you still can—return to Derbyshire or London—or suffer the consequences. There are worse things, even, than what happened to your servant. Sometimes death is a blessing. A man is not a man after a succubus or vampire has finished draining the life fluids from him, but only an empty, half-dead husk. The process has already begun. Diana Marsh is not what she appears to be.
A friend
I shook my head. “Some friend.”
“Do you have the envelope?” Holmes asked. Selton showed it to him. “Posted from Whitby, which tells us little.”
Selton looked rather pale. “What exactly is a succubus?”
“A female demon or evil spirit,” Holmes said, “one who often appears in dreams to tempt and seduce men.”
“Sexual activity with them is supposed to gradually drain the vital essence from a man.” I shook my head. “A ridiculous notion.”
Selton seemed to have briefly stopped breathing. At last he said, “Could there possibly be any truth to such ideas?”
“Absolutely not.” I shook my head. “Someone is trying to frighten you.”
His lips formed a brief bitter smile. “I’m afraid it’s working.”
“It’s only natural,” I said. “Someone seems to know your weaknesses only too well.”
“But how?”
Holmes’s gray eyes had a fierce glare. “There are no supernatural forces at work here, Mr. Selton—I can promise you that. This is only some cruel and demented person.”
Selton slowly drew in his breath. He seemed reassured.
Soon we started back for Diana’s Grove. Selton went with us as far as the grove itself and the enormous oak tree at its outskirts, then touched lightly on the arm and said farewell. We had walked into the woods a short way when she spoke.
“It was about the letter, wasn’t it?”
Holmes smiled faintly. “Yes. H
is distress must have been obvious.”
“So it was. What’s going on, Mr. Holmes? Can’t you tell me?”
“As I said before, you must ask Mr. Selton.” This response obviously disappointed her. “However, this much should also be obvious. Someone is trying to frighten Mr. Selton, and in doing so, to separate the two of you.”
She frowned fiercely. “His father—it must be his father.”
Holmes shook his head. “I think not.”
“But then… I don’t understand.”
Holmes was watching her closely. “Sir Nathaniel also considers you unsuitable as a prospective bride for Selton.”
“Sir Nathaniel!” She gave a sharp laugh. “He doesn’t even know me. How can he presume to judge my fitness?”
Holmes hesitated. “Edgar Caswall seems to have an unnatural fascination for you.”
She stopped walking abruptly, her face going pale. “Oh, no, no.” She shook her head savagely. “He—he couldn’t—I…” She swallowed. “I love Diana’s Grove and Yorkshire—it is my home—but I would give it all up and flee rather than have anything to do with him.”
“It will not come to that,” I said. “We will not allow it.”
She nodded. “Thank God.”
Her outburst had troubled Holmes. “I did not mean to alarm you. Henry is correct. We shall protect you from Caswall.”
She smiled wanly. “Thank you. It is good to have friends. Although…” Her forehead creased, and she was lost in thought for a second. “Mr. Holmes, I can also pay you for your services if need be. I would gladly hire you.”
Holmes smiled and shook his head. “That is generous of you, Miss Marsh, but it will not be necessary. I am certain that Mr. Selton’s interests and yours coincide. In serving him, I serve you.”
“I hope that is true. Mr. Holmes, you and Dr. Vernier—he has been so very kind to me—and you… Oh, I am so embarrassed! I hope someday you can forgive me.”
“Forgive you, Miss Marsh? What on earth for?”
She bit at her lower lip. “For… for not knowing who you were. Aunt Arabella explained that everyone knows about Sherlock Holmes.”
Holmes halted briefly, then a loud laugh slipped out. Diana stared at him in alarm. He coughed once, then laughed again. “My dear young lady, you could not have presented yourself in any better light! Not knowing me—coming to me with, so to speak, a blank slate—is the greatest compliment you could ever pay me! Half of England thinks they know me intimately because of Watson’s wretched stories. You can make your own judgment, for better or worse, about my character.”
She laughed. “I am so happy to hear that! And I already understand that your reputation is well deserved indeed.”
When we came into the great hall, Arabella strode forward wearing her emerald necklace and another splendid white silk dress. She greeted us warmly. Clearly Caswall’s morning visit was to be forgotten—it had never happened! Dinner was the best one yet, the main course being a roast lamb. No one did scintillation better than Arabella: she smiled, she laughed, she showed off her splendid teeth and her long neck, her beautiful white hands moved about in a graceful dance to accompany her witty comments and amusing anecdotes. Somehow even the octagonal green lenses of her spectacles added to her appeal. It was quite a performance.
I was half-dazzled myself. Holmes was also unusually charming, but I knew him well enough to see that he too was “inoculated” against Arabella, as he had once said. Little wonder Sir Nathaniel or Dr. Thorpe were utterly infatuated with her. Most men, even married ones, would probably find her irresistible, but in the end, she was too theatrical for my taste. Although she must be in her late thirties, her beauty was almost completely intact. I wondered what she would do in another ten or twenty years. Nothing was worse than an aged beauty still trying to play the part of the ingénue. Perhaps she wanted Caswall’s money so she could dispense with the act. But had she behaved this way for so long that it had become automatic? Could she not stop?
Diana appeared weary and preoccupied. Obviously she had not forgotten about Caswall or what Holmes had told her in the woods. That was just as well—it would have been hard for her to get a word in edgewise.
* * *
The next morning was clear and sunny, the mists nowhere to be seen. Holmes told me he needed to see Caswall again, a prospect which filled me with dread. I begged that we might postpone the visit a day or two. Holmes said he might simply go alone, but Caswall seemed so crazy that I would not hear of it. In the end, Holmes agreed to a postponement. We were having dinner with Sir Nathaniel that evening. I was determined not to stay too late at Doom Tower because Michelle might arrive.
After all the excitement of yesterday morning, I longed for a plain, uneventful sort of day. My hopes were soon shattered. Adam Selton came into the library, his face deadly pale, his big hands tightly clutching the brim of his hat. Diana set down her book and walked quickly to him.
“What is it, Adam? What’s wrong?”
He was staring at Holmes and me. “A body has been found, out at sea. It may be Evans. Dr. Thorpe has the body.”
“As I suspected.” Holmes nodded, then slowly stood. “I must have a look.”
I was feeling the dread, as usual, square in my chest. “Must you?” I had seen one or two drowned dead bodies, but not close up. I was a doctor, but one who dealt with living bodies, not corpses. Of course, as part of my medical training, I had helped dissect cadavers, but I had never overcome a certain squeamishness. I had merely learned to hide it.
“Yes, Henry.”
I slowly stood. “Very well.”
“How could this happen?” Diana asked. “How could he have fallen into the sea?”
“Perhaps he fell from one of the cliffs when the tide was high,” Arabella said. “What a terrible tragedy.”
Holmes’s lips drew back into a mirthless smile, but he said nothing.
“I brought the wagonette,” Selton said.
Once we had stepped outside, Holmes spoke to Selton. “Did they mention the state of the body? By any chance was it… half eaten?”
Selton froze for a second, his blue eyes all awash with fear. He nodded. “How could you know that?”
“It was not difficult.”
“Mr. Holmes, they may want me—they may want me to identify…” He could not finish.
“That should not be necessary, Mr. Selton. I believe I can identify him.”
Selton drove the wagonette, but no one had anything to say. The mere thought of our destination ruined the beautiful blue sky and grand vistas for me. At last we reached the cobbled street of the village and drove up to Dr. Thorpe’s cottage. The good doctor greeted us effusively, but he looked as distraught as Selton and me.
“I have sent for the chief constable from Whitby, Mr. Holmes. He should be here within an hour.”
“And where is the body?”
Thorpe actually flinched. His face was pale, looked almost as washed out as his white hair and mustache. “It’s in the garden—in the shed. I did little more than verify his death, but the smell alone would have vouchsafed that. What a horror, gentlemen—what a horror! I have seen drowned men before. They are generally bloated and horribly disfigured, as is this one, but never in such a state!”
“What state?” Holmes asked.
“Huge chunks taken out of him, Mr. Holmes! Dear Lord, it’s as if some giant beast had feasted upon him.”
“It must have been fish,” I said.
Thorpe shook his head wildly. “I have seen bodies nibbled upon by fish. That is common if they have been in the water a week or two, but it was nothing like this. Only a shark or some other monster would have a jaw large enough to do such damage, and there are no sharks in these waters, Dr. Vernier! Once, only once, I have heard of a shark in the Channel waters, but that was twenty years ago. Never here—never.” He paused to draw in his breath, and his thick white eyebrows came together. “I wonder… I have never had sherry before lunch, but perhaps in an excepti
onal case such as this…”
“Do you have any brandy? That might be better. For medicinal purposes.”
“Brandy? Yes, of course I have brandy. Very astute, Dr. Vernier. And would you gentlemen care to join me?”
I shook my head. “Perhaps a little later.” I tried to persuade myself I could do this.
Holmes touched my arm lightly. “I can take care of this by myself, Henry.”
“No, I shall come with you. At least to the shed.”
Selton seemed both unwilling and unable to speak. He opened and closed his mouth twice. “Must I… must I…?”
“The chief constable will insist you identify him,” Thorpe said. “I assure you.”
“I doubt that will be necessary,” Holmes said. “If the head is intact. He had a mole below his left ear, and the earlobe itself was split. I also happened to notice his dress, the cut of his suit and his boots especially. Neither would be common around here. Was he clothed, by the way?” Thorpe nodded. Holmes turned to me. His gray eyes were grave but without fear. “Shall we have a look, Henry?”
“Yes. Let’s get it over with.”
Thorpe smiled weakly. “Can’t miss the shed. On the left. I had them set him on the floor. The smell was already terrible, but once a body is out of the water for a few hours it becomes… I shall just have that brandy, and you must join me, Mr. Selton. You seem to have as great a need as I do.”
Holmes and I went outside. I tried to reassure myself. Doctors do, of course, have to regard dead bodies all the time, but I felt about them as I felt about blood. It was reassuring to see that Thorpe was even more squeamish than I. An elm kept the back of the cottage in shade and sheltered the small wooden shack. Holmes did not hesitate, but went straight to the door and pulled it open. He stepped inside, while I lingered in the doorway.
The White Worm Page 17