Secret Letters

by Leah Scheier

  “Ow, Dora, for God’s sake!”

  I hadn’t succeeded in freeing myself, but I stopped struggling for a moment and watched him grit his teeth against the pain. I was sorry to have hurt him, but seeing him uncomfortable made me a little less self-conscious. I could think more clearly now, despite the beating warmth surging through my cheeks.

  “What would you like to hear?” I hissed at him. “Yes, if you wanted to—you could have hurt me. You could have strangled me, or beaten me, or done anything else you wished.” My voice had sunk into a bitter whisper. “There now, are you satisfied? Or must you humiliate me further and mock my weakness?”

  He released me and stepped back, his cheeks darkening with shame.

  “I trust I didn’t hurt you,” he said apologetically after a tense pause. “I was only trying to make a point. I’m glad we understand each other now.”

  “I don’t understand you at all, actually,” I responded bitterly. “One moment you’re praising me and encouraging me to succeed, and the next you’re doing your best to frighten me and trying to shelter me as if you feel responsible for me. Why can’t you just make up your mind?”

  He sighed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I don’t know, Dora,” he replied after a pause. “But I do realize how frustrating it must be for you. And I’m sorry, really I am.” He gave me a timid smile and shrugged his shoulders. “I rather overdid it with that demonstration, didn’t I? But you have to understand that I do worry about you—about your safety. Not just because I care about you—but because I’m the one who put you in this place. I’ve encouraged you, just as you pointed out. And if anything was to happen to you, it would be entirely my fault. I didn’t appreciate that before, but now I see that I was too hasty, that I didn’t think this through properly. Dora, I just—I don’t want any more people to suffer because of a selfish decision that I made.”

  It was a heartfelt apology, sincere and honest, and it made me regret the way I’d spoken to him earlier. And truthfully, I couldn’t help it; one phrase stood out to me from all the rest. Those sweet few words: not just because I care about you.

  I wanted to hold on to those words, wanted him to speak them again, to tell me more. But of course I could not ask him then. We were moments from tracking James, perhaps minutes from finding Lady Rose. This was clearly not the time for that sort of talk. But I had to say something to him, to laugh off our fight and show him that I’d forgiven him. So I decided to make a careless joke, just to make him smile again.

  “You don’t want anyone else to suffer because of one of your decisions, Peter?” I teased him. “So, other young girls have sacrificed themselves for you in the past?”

  I had expected him to smile and tease me back, to mock me a little and so smooth over our quarrel. So I could not imagine why he suddenly turned pale and stared at me like I’d just slapped him across the face. It was just a momentary reaction, really. I think that he soon realized I’d been joking and that I hadn’t meant anything by it; but in that instant I saw a startled hurt flame in his eyes, the flash of an unwilling confession. Then it was gone as quickly as it came.

  “Not recently, no,” he muttered, and stepped away from me. “All right now, enough of this; it’s time to go, don’t you agree? It will be dark soon, and I’d prefer not to track at night.” He leaned over the dog and held out several cubes of sugar. “Wake up, Toby, wake up!”

  There was an irritable iciness to his posture now, and I saw that he had deliberately turned his back to me, as if he were trying to avoid further conversation. I still had no idea what I’d said to upset him so, but there was nothing I could do about it now. He was clearly no longer in the mood to talk. So I decided to carry on as if nothing had occurred between us.

  “We should circle the village,” I suggested evenly. “Agatha said that James headed toward Sheffield Green, so the dog should be able to pick up the scent close to the border.”

  Cartwright straightened quickly and shook his head.

  “Oh, no. You can return to Hartfield now, Miss Joyce. Toby doesn’t need two people pulling at his leash.”

  I took a rag out from my pocket and crumpled it in my hand. “You have to put Toby on the scent, remember? This is the cloth that I used yesterday to wipe up the anise spill. So you can let me come with you. Or you can to try to force this napkin from my fingers. Just as you wish.”

  He did not seem surprised or even irritated by my challenge. He appeared too weary to object just then, too tired to even look at me. He shrugged and passed his hand over his face. “Very well. Let’s go, then.”

  I tossed the rag to him, and he allowed the dog to sniff it for a moment. Then we set off in the direction of the parish church, which stood at the northern corner of the village. At first we walked in silence, for we were both still smarting from our recent tussle. Cartwright limped a little, and I glumly rubbed my wrist every time he looked at me. I wanted to apologize and ask for his forgiveness, but I wasn’t sure yet what I’d said to hurt him. Besides, he didn’t appear to want to talk about it, as if he’d realized that he had already given too much away by his reaction. It seemed that there was only one safe way to mend the rift that I’d just caused and that was to talk about the case.

  “Have you learned anything more about the valet since we last met?” I inquired finally.

  “I did,” he told me. “Tell me, do you know James’s real family name?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I assumed Farringdon was not his real name. Footmen and valets are frequently renamed when they enter service. Besides, criminals usually take on pseudonyms.”

  “He had used the alias James Farringdon when he applied for the post at Hartfield. But I was able to find his hometown, and from there to trace him and learn a little about his family. He was the only son of Mark and Abigail Fellows, of Lambley.”

  He paused and looked at me expectantly. I bit my lip and stared fixedly ahead, pretending to be fascinated by Toby’s progress.

  I had forgotten to ask about Mark Fellows as Cartwright had requested. After I received his letter, I had been so focused on obtaining a sample of James’s handwriting that I had ignored the lead he had offered me. Cartwright seemed disappointed by my silence but continued as if I had responded. “Mark Fellows abandoned his family five years ago. He simply disappeared without a trace.”

  It was then it flashed on me, a comment made by one of the maids about Lord Victor’s mysterious older friend. “He scared off the one friend he had, Mark Fellows, that gray-haired squire from Lambley,” she had said.

  “But Mr. Fellows was well-known at Hartfield!” I exclaimed. “James must have known that his father had been close with the family.”

  “I am certain that he did know. But did Lord Victor know the connection? I indulged in a little gossiping with some Lambley housewives and learned that James had been at school the year his father vanished and that after the investigation was over, James disappeared for a time as well, only resurfacing when his mother died last year.”

  “What did the police think happened to Mark Fellows?”

  “The police thought nothing, as they usually do. Mr. Fellows was known to be something of a philanderer, and it was assumed that he had run off with one of his amours. Lord Victor revealed that Fellows had been thinking of leaving his wife for quite some time. Even the neighbors confirmed that the squire’s marriage was unhappy, though they were surprised by such a sudden turn of events. Also, men usually take their belongings with them when they leave their families, but Fellows disappeared with just the clothes upon his back.”

  “That must have seemed suspicious to the police.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Ah, he must have run off with a rich woman, they theorized, and closed the case.”

  “But the squire disappeared five years ago. How does Lady Rose’s kidnapping fit into this?”

  “As for Lady Rose—I believe we are about to learn that connection very soon.” Toby had suddenly stiffened and let out an
urgent yelp. Nose down to the ground, he bore straight ahead, pulling us toward the western edge of Sheffield Green. We were now on the outskirts of the village, and it was evident that Toby was not leading us to the paved main road but rather to a side dirt path, which led to some of the tenant cottages.

  The route that we were taking brought us to a sparsely populated area along the western border of the village. We passed two older houses, and Toby finally stopped near an isolated rundown cottage, which appeared from the outside to be unoccupied. He pulled Cartwright around and around in a circle and then finally took off in the direction of the estate.

  My friend pulled the dog back and handed me the leash. “This is as far as James went last night,” he whispered, “before he returned to Hartfield. Stay here for a moment while I have a look around.”

  We were standing about fifty feet away from the house, behind the toolshed. The piggery and stable next to it had clearly been empty for months, and the equipment by the shed was coated with layers of dust and dirt. Cartwright tossed his hat and coat beside me and crept around the side, while I squatted next to the faithful Toby, who had already rolled over and started to snore. I tied the dog’s leash to a tree and settled down to wait. Cartwright had not been gone a minute when I suddenly heard a far-off whistling sound coming from beyond the hilltop. As the sound grew nearer, I peeked out from behind the shed and saw that a boy was coming up the path, swinging a wicker basket by his side. The child was heading toward the abandoned house.

  As he approached, I realized that I would be too far away to observe him, so I moved forward slowly, crawling along on my hands and knees. An overturned broken wheelbarrow, half covered by wild shrubbery, lay closer to the door, and I scrambled underneath it. Crouching there out of sight, I commanded an excellent view of the doorway and could easily hear everything that passed.

  The boy gave three brisk taps with the back of his fist and the door swung open. There was a sound of mumbled greeting from inside, and a dark-bearded man in wrinkled clothing emerged. He looked around him anxiously before fixing his attention on the basket in the boy’s hand. “Well, then, what took ye so long?” he demanded.

  The boy shrugged. “Sorry, Mr. Ellison. I saw your little girl in the bakery just now, and we got to talkin’.”

  A shade of alarm passed over the man’s face. “Well, what did you talk about?”

  There was a crafty look in the child’s eyes, and he answered slowly, as if the man’s anxiety was a matter of no importance. “We talked of many things. The weather. The church social. Dinner.” He raised his chin defiantly, an insolent smirk curling his lips. “But there was something she said that I found a bit surprising.”

  Ellison grunted and spit a wad of tobacco onto the grass. “And what was that?”

  “Well, sir, your daughter seemed to be under the impression that her father was in Southampton, visiting his sick brother.”

  “And what did you say to her, boy?”

  “Ohhhh,” crooned the child in a mocking singsong, “I didn’t tell her nothin’ different, of course.” The boy placed the basket deliberately behind his back and stepped away. “But then I got to thinking—I couldn’t help wonderin’ what it is you’re hidin’ out here away from your little girl? And why can’t you leave this house to get your own food?”

  Ellison shot forward, but the boy darted out of his way, tossing the basket at the man as he went. A moldy roll and a half-eaten apple bounced out and, with a roar of fury, the man lunged for the child again. “Where is the food I paid you for?” he bellowed.

  The boy was halfway up a tree before he answered, and he crowed at his opponent from the height. “You didn’t pay me enough. There was one pound missing.”

  “One pound ? It was two shillings for the rolls and a shilling for the delivery!” roared the man.

  “Aye, sir, that was before I started carryin’ your little secret around with me. Powerful heavy, it is. That’ll cost you extra.”

  “You stupid brat,” growled the man. “There is no secret. My brother has lost his house on account of his gambling and drinking. He came to me for help, half-starved and sick, and I could not bring him home like that. Maddy is only ten, and she thinks the world of her uncle. So I am watching over him in this old cottage until he is well enough to take care of himself. And if you tell Maddy, you’ll just be hurting her and not surprising anyone in the village with your tale.

  So I want my food as we agreed or you won’t see another farthing from me.”

  The boy scrambled down from the branch and rubbed his hands over his dirty knees. With a bowed head and a shamefaced pucker, he whined out a sulky apology and took off down the road. “I’ll bring it, sir, I’ll bring it,” he called over his shoulder. “I have to run an errand for my mum, but I’ll be back with it tonight right after supper.”

  Ellison threw a clod of dirt after the child and cursed under his breath. “What am I expected to do now?” he muttered, tugging absentmindedly at his watch chain and gazing at the deserted road with vacant eyes. He gave the watch an irritable tug, and the chain shot forward and snapped in two. Swearing furiously, he tossed the watch into his coat pocket and vanished back into the cottage, shutting the door noisily behind him.

  I STAYED HIDDEN there for some minutes afterward and watched the house, in case the man should reappear. Finally, when I was confident that all was quiet, I crawled slowly out from my hiding place, keeping my eyes fixed on the cottage. Presently Cartwright emerged from behind the house, waved to me, and ducked behind the shed again. I waited impatiently for him, for I was certain we had reached the last part of our journey and I could not wait to hear what our final step would be. When he joined me his expression was indifferent, but his eyes were bright and focused, his figure tense and poised, like a racer waiting for his cue.

  “You heard him?” I whispered eagerly.

  He nodded grimly, and his jaw set. “I could not see inside the house. There is a locked back entrance, and every window is shuttered and bolted.”

  “Could we apply to the police to search the house, then?”

  “Is that what you would do?”

  “We must have grounds for a warrant.”

  “Do we? Are you prepared to give the case over to the officials and the public, then?”

  “You aren’t still concerned about the earl’s privacy?”

  “No, but I’d rather have my case complete before I hand it over to Porter. I would like to at least lay eyes on the young lady and hear her story.”

  I studied the door for a moment and then turned to face him. An idea had formed in my mind but I was hesitant to share it, for its details were somewhat vague, and I did not wish him to reject it before I could refine it. “I can get in there” was all I said.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I shall knock on the door, and Ellison will let me in. He won’t suspect me. I will need two shillings, please.”

  “No.”

  Had I proposed scaling the roof and descending through the chimney, he could not have been more dismissive. He had already turned away from me with an impatient finality, and I saw with a start of horror that he had drawn a pistol from his coat pocket.

  “You will stay hidden here, until I return,” he demanded, his voice hoarse and dark.

  I reached my hand out and touched his sleeve. “Just listen to me for a moment, please. I can get inside there, no violence, no weapon. If we are wrong and Lady Rose isn’t there, no one will ever know our error. I will be in the house for less than five minutes, and when I get the opportunity I will unlock one window. Then I shall get him to follow me outside, and you will have your chance to look for her. You will be less than twenty feet away. If anything goes wrong I’ll scream.”

  He turned around slowly, arms crossed over his chest, and studied my face for a moment.

  “Please,” I added quietly before he answered. “Peter, give me this last chance.”

  He uncrossed his arms and tossed over two shilli
ngs. “Be careful, Dora.”

  I dropped the coins into my pocket and ran, worried that if I stayed to explain my plan he might change his mind once more. In less than a quarter of an hour I had arrived at the village bakery, and, some minutes later, I was heading back carrying a basket loaded with sweet-smelling, freshly baked muffins and warm loaves of bread. I gave three brisk taps on the cottage door and stood beside the post, out of view from the front windows. The door swung open and old Ellison leaned out of the gap. He started at the sight of me and seemed inclined to shrink back into the house. I smiled and meekly asked for directions to Hartfield, claiming to be new to the area and lost. He relaxed a little and stepped farther out onto the terrace. As he lifted his hand to point out the path back to the estate, I caught a glimpse of his fingers and I knew suddenly what I would say.

  My eyes went wide and I smiled broadly, as if in recognition. “Why, sir, I hadn’t recognized you before! Mr. Ellison, you are looking so much better than the last time I saw you, sir!”

  The alarmed look returned, and he shook his head. “I don’t think we’ve met before, Miss—”

  “Banister, sir! Lizzie Banister! I don’t expect you’d remember me, though, for you were terribly ill then. Around Christmastime, I think it was. I was visiting your neighbors. I helped take care of you, sir. Ask your little Maddy about me. She’ll remember me, right enough.”

  He nodded slowly. “I was quite sick then, it’s true, and I doubt I’d have recognized my own mother the state I was in. I lost two whole weeks. You were visiting with the Saunders family, then? One of their cousins, are you?”

  “Second cousin. How is Maddy, sir? I have been meaning to stop by and tell her I’ve just gotten a job at the bakery.”

  “She’s well, she’s very well.” He paused and pulled nervously at his beard. “Listen, dear girl, if you talk to Maddy, you needn’t mention that you saw me here today. You see”—he coughed several times and jerked his head in the direction of the house—“I’ve been here for some time taking care of an old friend who has come down in the world. I wouldn’t want my little girl to know about it. Maddy’s so young and all, you understand?”