by Issy Brooke
It was ever the way of the world, after all.
THE RACE WAS ON – AT least, for the men. Adelia wandered through the castle that evening and it felt oddly empty. It was simply lacking Felicia; it had never felt this abandoned when Percy had been absent. She was the heart of the place though no one had realised it before.
Adelia was ill at ease, feeling that she ought to be doing more. She spoke to the servants, reassuring them that they were all perfectly safe. She heard that some of them had been approached by journalists from the town, and offered money as inducements to speak, but no one had accepted the offer except for one scullery maid who disappointed the hack by knowing absolutely nothing at all. Adelia could hardly blame her for trying her luck.
A policeman returned and stationed himself at the front door without speaking to anyone. She knew he was observing them as much as he was there for anyone’s protection. And, of course, the police needed to be seen to be doing something, even if Inspector Wilbred felt that the case was all sewn up with the arrest of Felicia. It was lucky that the circuit judge was a few weeks away, which bought them all a little more time. But more pressing, of course, was to discover evidence to tie Oscar to the poisoning before Oscar himself panicked and made a run for it – or worse. They had all vowed to keep the young man under very close observation but Adelia knew they needed to do more.
They needed to get into the gatehouse and search it.
They all dined together and Oscar was there too, looking constrained and alarmed. He had been “invited” by Percy and could hardly refuse his own uncle, especially as his uncle was the Earl and had paid for every step of his education. Lady Katharine had claimed to be unwell and refused the invitation, which made Adelia curse inwardly. That could have been their chance.
So only Oscar came up from the gatehouse, dressed in bland and formal clothing, sitting with his hands clenched on either side of his plate and looking as if he would rather be anywhere but where he was. Captain Everard turned on all the charm that he had learned in the officers’ mess and engaged the young man in lively conversation all evening, with Theodore and Doctor Netherfield playing their parts too. Adelia was impressed at how convincing they were, although she would have kicked Percy if her legs were only long enough to reach under him the table. His face was prone to slip from polite smiles to a dark glowering expression from time to time.
The Countess was there, picking at her food in sullen silence, and Lady Agnes was seated with just a little more distance than usual between them. Lady Agnes kept her eyes on Captain Everard, and her face was softer than it had been for a long time.
It was awkward, but things could have been worse.
And then they got worse.
Alcohol and simmering tensions were never going to be the best combination, Adelia thought with a sinking feeling. As the meal dragged on, and people decided to partake more of wine and sherry than of sensible solid food, noses got redder and even Oscar was finally drawn out of his shell by the constant attentions of Captain Everard in particular. Unfortunately, the usually reasonable captain had also had a little too much to drink and perhaps the stress of the past few days was telling on him, because he was not as careful in his conversation as he ought to have been.
“So you were a bright boy at school, weren’t you?” Captain Everard said to Oscar suddenly.
“Average, sir.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard!”
“Who has said something, sir? I am not sure I understand you,” Oscar replied. Adelia frowned at the captain, trying to warn him that Oscar would surely realise he was the object of private speculation if he carried on in that vein.
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about, my dear fellow. Your old uncle Lord Buckshaw was singing your praises, that’s all.”
“Was he?”
Percy harrumphed from behind his bowl of blancmange. “I was telling people how well you’d done at school, that’s all.”
“School was years ago,” Oscar said.
“And what have you done with yourself since?” Captain Everard said. “Oh I say – that has come out awfully badly – I did not mean it to sound quite so accusatory, you know! I simply wish to know, um, ah...”
Oscar’s face had clouded over. “I quite understand you, sir. Since then, I have attended to family duties as any good son should.”
Adelia pretended not to, but she was listening closely. Was that a barbed comment? Did he mean something by that?
Percy leaned forward. “You don’t really have any, you know. I keep meaning to have this little talk with you. You really don’t have to feel so tied to this place. Now’s your chance to leave and make your mark on the world!”
“He could come travelling with you,” Doctor Netherfield suggested, and Percy choked a little.
“What a wonderful idea,” The Countess said suddenly, reminding everyone that her hearing and sight was perfectly undimmed by age, at least tonight. “I very much support that idea. What do you think, Oscar dear?”
Adelia was shocked by the look of pure hatred that crawled over Oscar’s face. Suddenly she realised that Oscar knew part of the family’s secrets, but there was no way of knowing which parts he knew and which he could only guess at.
But he certainly understood that The Countess was the keeper of all of deepest secrets. The things that he did not know.
And The Countess, for all her insistence that she was protecting the family, had told Oscar nothing.
The Countess was still smiling at Oscar and there was a light in her eyes that Adelia couldn’t quite fathom. Up until this point, Adelia would have sworn that The Countess was acting out of love for Oscar; that she knew what he had done and was protecting him.
It became clear to Adelia now that The Countess didn’t give a fig for Oscar, or Percy, or any one of them. Only the family name mattered. The individuals came and went. She didn’t care that Oscar could have tried to kill Felicia – did she know? If she did, it wouldn’t mean anything to her because Felicia had not produced an heir, so The Countess would certainly support Percy moving on to find a better wife. Did The Countess care about the deaths of the house steward and the valet? Of course not.
Would she care, however, that an attempt had been made on Percy’s own life?
Adelia gripped her fork tightly. Perhaps The Countess did not believe Oscar had any part in any of this. It could be possible that she still believed that Felicia was guilty. Her love for her family’s name and honour blinded her to any shortcomings – and she could not see how much truly Oscar detested her. She loved him only as a member of the family – and he hated her for what he thought she was concealing.
Adelia forced her attention to return to the conversation. Oscar was muttering an excuse about why he could not travel with Percy, citing his need to be with his mother who was increasingly ill, a fact which everyone else disputed. The Countess continued to press him, urging him to spread his wings “under the excellent tutelage of your uncle” and Oscar continued to resist it.
In fact, his stubborn refusal to agree with the ancient matriarch was clearly surprising her, and causing her some annoyance. She stabbed towards him with her spoon, saying, “Now, you do need to listen to me, young man. Far be it from me to criticise your devotion to duty, but your uncle is right when he says that you are not needed here as much as you think you are.”
Ouch, thought Adelia, that sort of sentiment will always sting.
Oscar remained mute, staring at his empty bowl now. Everyone else, feeling acutely uncomfortable by the personal tone the argument was taking, shuffled and kept their thoughts to themselves.
The Countess said, “I have lived a long time. A very long time. I’ve steered this family through thick and thin. No one knows the ways of it as well as I do. No one knows each person here as well as I do.”
Adelia was now doubting that. She glanced up at Theodore, who was frowning.
“And I know you, Oscar. I know you.”
His should
ers heaved but he said nothing.
The Countess went on, saying, “So I am telling you, Oscar dear, with the greatest of affection, it is time you left this place and spread your wings! Go with my blessing. You are not needed here. We shall take care of your mother.”
“Like you did before?” he muttered, still hiding his face. The tips of his ears went red. Adelia had to strain to hear him. Captain Everard, who was closest to him, jerked upright. But The Countess blinked and said, “What? Speak up.”
He shook his head, and finally raised his chin. He met his great-grandmother’s eyes and said, “I shall certainly take your words to heart, nanna.”
“Good, good.” She reached for more wine.
Dark foreboding clutched Adelia’s heart.
The Countess did not know Oscar, and she did not know what he was capable of.
Twenty-six
The ladies withdrew and the men were a long time in coming to join them. Now there were more gentlemen in the house, they had more to talk about and so they lingered in their masculine space for quite a while. Adelia was stuck in the drawing room with Lady Agnes and The Countess, and she missed the presence of her daughter terribly. Lady Agnes sat by the unlit fire with a book in her hands, and she appeared to be engrossed in it. The Countess sat opposite her, tapping her fingers and muttering about how perfectly dull everything was these days, and why could they not engage a man to come out from Plymouth with some magic lantern shows, or tricks, or even to perform some songs at the piano? Lady Agnes refused point blank to play a thing, and Adelia also declined, citing stiffness in her fingers.
When the men rolled in, appearing to be very much worse for alcohol now, Oscar was not with them. Adelia hissed at Theodore, making small jerks of her head to indicate she needed to speak to him immediately. He joined her in an alcove dedicated to books.
“I am not as drunk as you think I am,” he said in a whisper. “Percy is drunk, quite shamefully so. Doctor Netherfield is not drunk but he seems it; I think he is one of those men who grow merry on good company. Captain Everard is very nearly incapable of a sensible sentence, however. I was amazed he could stand up. Is he really the best choice for Lady Agnes?”
“I thought you were worried that she was not good enough for him!”
“Perhaps they will suit one another. I leave it to your discretion.”
“But where is Oscar?” she asked urgently.
“He would not speak to us very much. He is so very young, and he seemed paralysed by the presence of us all. He has gone back to the gatehouse, saying that he needed to go to bed, and I do not think he will cause any trouble tonight.”
“He is going to make an attempt on The Countess’s life.”
Theodore laughed so loudly it drew everyone’s attention. She shushed him angrily.
“He is, I know it,” she said, quickly outlining her suspicions to him.
He furrowed his brow and made a great show of looking as if he were taking her seriously but in spite of his earlier protestation that he was not drunk, she could see that he was. And he continued to insist, over and over, that he had to find the evidence to link Oscar to the crimes. She understood that, but she was terrified now for everyone’s safety.
“At some point you have to act,” she said, trying to stifle her urge to shout at him. “This is not an intellectual game. You must make a move, show your hand, perhaps take a risk.”
“And this is not a game of poker,” he replied.
“No,” she said. “People don’t die in poker. Two men are dead, Theodore! And we know who the murderer is. We must stop him.”
He closed his hands over hers to stop them waving around in her excitement. “People are looking our way. Let us join them. We can discuss this in the morning.”
She sighed very dramatically. She was tired of discussion. And she was scared of inaction.
ALSO TIRED OF DISCUSSION were Captain Everard and Doctor Netherfield. They sought Adelia out before breakfast the next morning and they had clearly been lying in wait for her. She emerged onto the corridor while the house around was still quiet and hushed, and there they were, studiously inspecting some dull prints of a ruined castle on a Scottish island that hung along the walls.
They rushed to her immediately. Captain Everard, in spite of his state of inebriation the night before, was perky and clear-faced, though the older doctor looked weary and had a certain redness to his eyes.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
“Good morning,” said the doctor, but Captain Everard looked strained and didn’t bother with any pleasantries.
“You are a part of this investigation, as much as anyone,” Captain Everard blurted out. He must have been rehearsing it in his head. “And you have been so very good to me regarding the other matter...”
She smiled at him briefly. “So, you want something from me. I believe I can guess what it is. My husband’s caution is going to – let me use a naval expression – scupper us all? Does that sound right?”
“Yes, and yes, you are correct on all counts,” Captain Everard said with a wry smile. “Oscar is aware of our interest in him and the doctor here has been telling me all about the workings of the mind.”
“Indeed,” said Doctor Netherfield, and he spoke gravely. “That young man is a danger to himself and to us all. There is more disorder in his brain than a dose of beauty and good food could possible cure – although such things would undoubtedly help. I would suggest that there is a severe inflammation in certain areas of the mind that influence his capability to engage in rational thought. He believes he is acting rationally, but he is not.”
“I quite agree,” Adelia said. “And I can see that action must be taken. My problem, and I know it is also my husband’s concern, is what form that action should take. And when.”
The men nodded at one another. Doctor Netherfield spoke. “We must get into the gatehouse immediately, this very day, and search it. The longer we delay, the more chances we give the lad to hide the evidence.”
“So we must get all three of them out,” Adelia said.
“Three?”
She could have rolled her eyes at them. Certain people really did treat servants like they were animated furniture. “You gentlemen can deal with Oscar. He will not pay any heed to me. As for Lady Katharine and her woman, I shall engage the formidable services of a certain Mrs Carstairs.”
Both men had been at the receiving end of that woman’s persuasive talents. It made perfect sense.
“Today,” Captain Everard warned.
Doors opened further down the corridor. A bell rang, somewhere. Breakfast was getting underway and the conversation was over.
“Today,” she promised as she walked away.
HALF A DOZEN CRYPTIC notes were sent in a flurry that morning between Plymouth and Tavy Castle, and at just after two in the afternoon, Adelia heard the crunch of carriage wheels outside on the gravel accompanied by the barking of an enthusiastic spaniel. She had seen all four men and Oscar at luncheon, but had no idea where they had all gone since then. She’d indicated to Captain Everard that their chance could come that very afternoon, and told him that they were to stay close and watch for their opportunity. He nodded. Apparently the afternoon’s plan was to “show the lad some hunting tricks that Percy had picked up on the Russian Steppes” though she was not sure how well those things would work in Devon. There was, for a start, a distinct lack of bears.
Still, it sounded like the sort of thing that ought to appeal to a man, although she noted that both Theodore and Doctor Netherfield looked a little thin-lipped at the proposals.
So she expected that they were all outside, crashing around in the undergrowth. She hurried down the stairs to greet Mrs Carstairs.
“Thank you for coming! Oh, Mrs Carstairs, I cannot explain everything to you yet, but first I must apologise for dashing off...”
“Oh, no, no, no my dear! I know all about you and your exploits. I have read the accounts in the press and though the g
ood writers fade you into the background, I can see right through their admirable delicacy and know exactly what role you must have been playing. I am delighted to be a part of this! Will it be so terribly dangerous?” she asked with glee.
“I am afraid not.”
Mrs Carstairs’ face fell slightly.
Adelia went on. “We simply must come up with a ruse to draw Lady Katharine and her maid out of the gatehouse long enough for it to be searched for evidence. The good lady is not at all suspected of any part in any crime,” Adelia added hastily, still hoping that was true and they hadn’t all been the victims of the most elaborate hoax that century.
“Good heavens. This is still jolly exciting,” Mrs Carstairs said with a girlish giggle as she followed Adelia into the great hall. “Where do we start?”
“All good planning starts with tea and cake,” Adelia said. She caught the eye of one of the maids standing rigidly by the door to the back corridor, and nodded at her. “In the parlour, if you will.” She carried on talking to Mrs Carstairs as she led her towards the parlour. “Oscar Brodie is outside with the men, but it is Lady Katharine who will be our main issue.”
She got to the door but the servant hadn’t moved. She was looking towards Adelia, waiting for a chance to speak, biting her lip.
“Yes?”
“My lady, if you will forgive me, I heard what you said, and you probably ought to know that Mr Brodie is not outside. He has gone upstairs with The Countess.”
“Upstairs?”
“To the tower, my lady. He told her there was something he had to tell her.”
“Oh, no,” Adelia said, adding quite a choice stream of foul language in the privacy of her own head. “Mrs Carstairs, please go and find the men with the utmost urgency and tell them what we have just learned. Any of the men will do! I need to go after Brodie.”
“You have quite a habit of running off in a panic,” said Mrs Carstairs.