Holmes nodded. “An excellent suggestion.”
We went down to the great hall. Holmes had a whiskey and soda, I a brandy, while Michelle and Diana drank more lady-like pale dry sherry. We spoke no more of Caswall, and a certain normalcy had finally returned, when Adam Selton came striding into the room, his wool cap in his hand, his brown macintosh glistening from the rain.
“Have you heard the news—have you heard about Castra Regis?”
Diana went to him and grasped his upper arms with both her hands, not caring that she was getting her dress wet. “Oh, yes!”
Holmes and I had to explain things all over again. Adam kept shaking his head and saying, “I cannot believe it.”
“You must stay for dinner, Adam—you must!” Diana exclaimed.
He smiled. “Gladly.”
We went to the dining room. Diana sent Mrs. Troughton to inquire after her aunt, but she soon returned, shaking her head. We all sat down, and Mrs. Troughton served us the soup. Hamswell was nowhere to be seen. The soup plates had been cleared away when Arabella came into the room. She had changed into one of her white silk gowns, set off as usual by her emerald necklace and her green-tinted spectacles.
“I have come to my senses. I am hungry, after all.”
I murmured some politeness. We all sat a bit stiffly and silently, while Mrs. Troughton set a large blue-and-white china plate before us each. Adam Selton had a grave look on his face. “Lady Verr, I must offer you my condolences for your loss.”
Diana’s eyes opened very wide, she looked briefly stricken, but none of us said anything. Arabella’s mouth formed a mocking smile which gradually faded away as she stared at Adam. Creases appeared in her forehead. At last she said, “That is very kind of you, Adam.” Somehow I felt as if she were truly seeing him for the first time.
“Since we were neighbors, I made an effort to make Caswall’s acquaintance, but for some reason he seemed to dislike me. I don’t know why. We only met twice.” He shrugged. “All the same, what a terrible tragedy.” He stared at Sherlock. “Do you know why he had all that dynamite, Mr. Holmes?”
Holmes’s gray eyes swept round the table, and he shrugged. “Clearly it was a manifestation of his insanity.”
Arabella said nothing. Her eyes were still fixed on Adam Selton.
She was quite subdued during the rest of the meal. Always before she had dominated at the dinner table, actively wielding her beauty, charm and wit. Now she seemed to be the observer, although clearly at times her thoughts turned inward. After the meal she excused herself and thanked Adam again for his thoughtfulness. Those green octagonal lenses shifted to Holmes, even as a brief smile pulled at her lips, and with a curtsy, she was gone. There was something in her stride which revealed this was not a vanquished woman.
We chatted for a while, and then Holmes glanced at me. “Dr. Vernier, I must admit to a craving for the forbidden fruit. I think I shall step outside for a cigarette.”
I glanced at Michelle who was talking to Diana and Adam. “Perhaps I shall join you.”
The great hall was all darkness and shadow, save for one feeble lamp, and Holmes pushed open the tall entrance doors. I had expected pouring rain or at least drizzle, but the clouds had briefly parted, revealing a swath of black sky with bright stars and the nearly full orb of the moon. Its light shone on the grassy expanse before the house.
Holmes withdrew a cigarette and struck a match against the rough stone by the door. He drew in twice, getting the tip aglow, then exhaled. He stepped forward onto the path and looked up at the moon.
I shook my head. “It is spectacular here. You never see a sky like that in London.”
“No.”
The wind was stirring the nearby trees ever so gently, and we could also hear the muted roar of the sea.
“It’s nice to have a quiet moment. I still cannot… It is difficult to believe that Caswall and that entire castle are gone.”
Holmes raised his hand, the cigarette held loosely between thumb and forefinger. “Perhaps, but we practically saw its destruction with our own eyes.”
I thought of Caswall buried somewhere beneath the rubble, crushed, obliterated, and the cool air suddenly felt cold. “Is it—is it almost over?”
“Oh yes, Henry. One way or another, it is almost over. Unfortunately, now comes the most dangerous time. Lady Verr is desperate. There is no telling exactly what she will do. She may decide to… improvise.” He laughed softly. “Sometimes improvisations are inspired, other times they are foolhardy. I have my suspicions.”
“I thought you said she would try to sacrifice Diana.”
“That is still likely, but as I said, she may come up with some other scheme.”
“Why ever would she want to kill her own niece?”
“Oh Henry, isn’t that obvious by now?”
My mind felt leaden, and an odd fear settled in my chest, seeming to slow my thoughts even more. “I suppose so.” I suddenly laughed. “That is why it is ‘just right’! Why Diana’s income is just right. If she dies, Arabella will have Diana’s Grove to herself, as well as the money. She is Diana’s nearest—her only—living relative. It is not a great fortune, but it would allow her to live comfortably, especially here in Yorkshire.” I laughed again. “She and Angela could live happily ever after.”
“Very good, Henry.”
“And I suppose… Oh, of course. She wanted to scare Adam away. If he married Diana, her estate and money would all go to him, as her husband. Diana’s Grove would then be out of Arabella’s reach forever. Oh Lord—now I see what you mean. Caswall had a fortune, and if she had married him, then she could have let Diana and Adam go—they would not have mattered anymore.”
“You are doing very well, Henry. Very well indeed. Lady Verr was being prudent. She had Caswall as her major objective, but Diana’s Grove was her fallback option. This grand cult of the White Worm must provide a creative and amusing diversion for a woman like her, besides assisting in her plans. Perhaps she once thought she might be able to simply dominate Diana, to control her, but I think it has become clear by now that the young lady has a mind of her own, that she will not be her aunt’s minion. No, no—safer by far just to be rid of her.”
“Oh Lord,” I moaned.
Holmes reached out with his right hand and grasped my wrist firmly. “We will not let that happen, Henry—we will not.”
I shook my head. “No.”
He stared at me. He wore no hat, and the moon shone on the long expanse of his forehead and the black hair combed back. His thin lips formed a weary smile. “Human iniquity does grow tiresome, does it not?”
“Oh yes.”
“I am glad you and Michelle are here.” He laughed softly. “Especially her—she saw in an instant the relationship between Lady Verr and Angela. I still feel like a dunderhead. I do know about such things, Henry. There was actually another case where… Regardless, Michelle provided the last piece of the puzzle.”
A soft sort of wavering, moaning cry sounded somewhere in the trees, making me start slightly.
“Only a barn owl,” Holmes said, “searching for supper.”
I drew in my breath slowly. The clouds had again obscured the moon, throwing the grassy expanse before the limestone facade of the dwelling back into shadow. “But it’s nearly over? By May Day morning—by Monday, it should all be resolved?”
Holmes took a final draw on his cigarette, then dropped the butt and crushed it under the heel of his boot. “I think so, Henry, but one can never be sure.” He gave a brief sharp laugh. “A day or two ago, I could never have predicted Edgar Caswall’s fate. The dynamite was a missing unknown. I hope there are no others. All the same… I hope to show Lady Verr that she is not the only one who can improvise.”
When we went back inside, we found Diana, Michelle and Adam sipping some port and talking. Angela sat in the big leather chair in the corner working industriously on the usual embroidery.
“It has stopped raining,” I announced.
>
Adam finished the last of his port, then pulled out his watch. “I should be leaving.”
Diana leaned over and set her long, slim hand on his brawny forearm, her eyes fixed on his. “Must you?”
“I suppose I might stay a while longer.”
Who could reject such an appeal from a beautiful woman? I thought.
“Good.” She gave his arm a squeeze, then sat back in the sofa. “There is something I wanted to ask you.”
“Yes?”
She looked at him, then took a quick sip of port. “I am trying to decide if I should send Aunt Arabella away.”
To my side, I saw Holmes stiffen, then rise up. I realized he must be on the balls of his feet. Gradually he sank down.
“Send her away?”
Michelle frowned, and I could see her eyes shift to the corner where Angela sat.
“This sounds like something you two might best discuss alone,” I said. “Perhaps the rest of us should leave.”
“It’s not a matter of discussion,” Diana said. “I just wondered what you think, Adam.”
“It seems harsh given that Mr. Caswall has just… passed away.”
“Oh, I don’t mean this instant—or this week, or next—I just thought… I have been thinking about it a long while, even before Dr. Vernier mentioned the idea.” She glanced up at me. “Remember?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Summer is coming, and I would like…” She was staring straight into his face. “Oh, I want to be free—I just want to be free! I want to be myself.”
“But her husband left her nothing. She has no money.”
“She can have some of mine! I have more than enough to live the way I want to live. I shall gladly give her a monthly sum. So long as she does not try to find lodgings in London, it should not be terribly dear. I don’t think she has ever truly been happy at Diana’s Grove, and I—neither have I. It would be best for both of us.”
Adam had a worried look. “I suppose so.”
Diana shook her head, her smile bitter. “Or do you also want me to remain a child forever? Do you want me never to grow up, never to become a woman?”
“I…” He lowered his eyes, then stared thoughtfully at her. His mouth suddenly pulled into a smile. “I like you as a woman.”
She laughed, then squeezed his forearm again. “I think that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me.”
“You must do what you think is best.”
She shook her head. “Don’t say that—don’t be stupid.” She stared at him. “Oh Adam, what is to become of us?” The question was a simple one, but full of anguish.
He looked away. “I don’t know.”
She bit at her lower lip. “I wish you did.”
He swallowed once. “I have to go.”
She nodded. “Very well. But will you come back tomorrow? Come for lunch, and if it is nice afterwards we can walk in the woods. We can show the doctors and Mr. Holmes the bluebells and what remains of the daffodils by the old stream. The daffodils are past their peak but still beautiful.”
He smiled. “Of course, I’ll come.” He said his farewells and left.
Holmes glanced at Angela in the distant corner, then at me, and said softly, “Now all the bridges are truly burned.”
* * *
Arabella appeared at ten the next morning, something which I did not think augured well. She mentioned that Hamswell would be driving her in the dog-cart to Whitby where she had business. As was her custom, she was elegantly dressed in white, and her cheeks had a rosy flush. She seemed in good spirits—certainly she was not mourning for Edgar Caswall!
As usual, both Diana and Mrs. Troughton seemed much happier once she had departed. Diana’s spirits were high, obviously in anticipation of Adam’s arrival and our afternoon walk in the woods. The weather was cooperating, the clouds and fog having lifted to reveal blue sky and bright sunshine. However, as noon came, then twelve thirty, and finally one, her happiness faded, replaced by discomposure. We finally ate lunch together a little after one.
When we had finished, Michelle reached over and touched her hand. “Come, my dear. Let’s get dressed and be off.”
“Should we go alone, then?”
Michelle shook her head. “No. Let’s go and find out what is keeping that lout.”
Diana laughed in spite of herself, and her good spirits returned. We walked along the ridge facing the sea, Michelle and Diana in the lead, Holmes and I a few paces behind. Holmes’s face had truly bronzed after two weeks in Yorkshire: gone was that pale, sickly wraith I had found at Baker Street earlier in April. However, he was silent and stern, uninterested in conversation.
We were almost at Lesser Hill when I said, “All right—what is troubling you?”
His gray eyes and his mouth both had a grim set. “I have my suspicions about what Lady Verr might be up to.”
“And?”
He shook his head. “I am not truly superstitious, but some things are best left unspoken.”
When we reached the house, Mrs. Childes told us her master was out, gone to Whitby. “Whitby.” Diana’s distress was obvious. “But why?”
“He didn’t say, miss, nor when he might be back.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll tell ’im you were by as soon as I see ’im, I promise. I’ll send ’im straight over.”
Diana smiled weakly. “Thank you, Mrs. Childes.”
Michelle managed to persuade Diana to take us to the woods to see the flowers anyway, so we started off again.
Holmes stared at me and shook his head. “This is what I feared.”
“What is it?”
He shook his head gruffly and would not speak.
We followed the stream of clear water running over rocks and boulders through the old woods, the bluebells flowering everywhere in the grass alongside the path. They were somehow muted, their color and shape slightly past their prime, but still beautiful all the same. The yellow daffodils were wilted and in decline. However, no one seemed in the spirit to admire the flowers except Michelle, who tried singlehandedly to make up for her lackluster and silent companions. When we returned to the house late in the afternoon, Diana smiled weakly, nodded and left us.
Michelle turned to me, an angry glare in her blue eyes. I was glad I was not the object of her fury. “Where can that idiot possibly have gone!”
Holmes smiled once, a brief grimace, shook his head and stalked away. “Oh Lord,” I said. “Let’s sit on the terrace and be by ourselves for a while.”
Michelle shook her head, clearly near tears. “Doesn’t he realize what he’s doing to her? How this hurts her?”
“I don’t know, Michelle. I don’t know. Sometimes he seems like a basically good, decent sort of man, if a trifle thick-headed, while other times… We shall have to wait and see.”
The afternoon dragged on, and supper came, with still no word from Adam. Arabella had also not returned either. I felt a growing sense of unease, of apprehension, and I knew the others felt the same. Michelle was relentlessly cheerful, but I knew her too well to be taken in. Diana tried to smile and attend to our conversation, but occasionally her smile would slip away even as her eyes stared off blankly into the distance. I tried to tell myself that nothing too dreadful could have happened. Certainly it was not an impossible coincidence that Adam and Arabella could both have business in Whitby. Certainly Arabella could not have dragged him away there to be murdered! Two large glasses of wine did take off the edge, but I knew I would be immensely relieved if Adam did finally show up.
After dinner Michelle and Diana went to the sitting room, while Holmes and I walked about the great hall. He was even more restless and agitated than I, so much so that I said nothing as he smoked three cigarettes and prowled to and fro. His steps echoed faintly high above, and a wood fire burned in the grate at the far end. The sun had set, and the gray twilight showed through the panes of the many mullioned windows. I began to feel cold and went over to the fire.
; I was warming my hands when I heard the faint sound of a woman’s laughter. I turned. Lady Verr had appeared at the far end of the hall, the man next to her clearly recognizable even in the dim light because of his height and size. Further behind her was another man who must be the servant Hamswell. I felt a sudden overwhelming dread, the kind that seems to clutch and squeeze within your chest at your heart. Easy—easy. I tried to tell myself that Adam was back—that nothing much could be wrong, that I should be relieved, not fearful. I forced myself to walk forward.
“Good evening, Mr. Holmes, Henry.” Lady Verr sounded perfectly content. She had her left hand round Adam’s arm, and he seemed incapable of walking normally and had to be almost pushed, step by step, into the hall. Hamswell remained near the entrance way. Holmes crossed his arms but said nothing.
“We have some news,” Arabella said. “Don’t we, Adam?”
While she seemed to be playing some part, he looked simply stunned, almost paralyzed. One of his hands rose awkwardly, swiped once at his forehead.
I had stepped past Holmes, and the single lamp burning in the distance illuminated his thin face. “What might that be, madam?” he asked. His mouth was rigid, but carefully neutral. However, his eyes gave him away—I would not have wanted to be the object of such anger and scorn.
In the dim light you could not see Arabella’s eyes behind the green octagonal lenses. “We are engaged to be married.”
Adam sucked in his breath, his body going rigid, but he did not speak.
“You must be joking!” I exclaimed.
Arabella tilted her head slightly. “Not at all, Henry. Do you find me so terribly old and repulsive?” She laughed.
I shook my head. “Impossible. Impossible.” I stared at Selton. “Adam—is this true?”
He opened his mouth but seemed unable to speak. Arabella jostled his arm slightly, and he managed a feeble nod.
I heard someone draw in their breath sharply. “Oh, no, no.” The words echoed off the stones high above. Diana was on the stairs, halfway down, Michelle just behind her. She gripped the railing with one hand, while the other covered her face. She bent over slightly.
The White Worm Page 24