The Hanging Cage (The Northminster Mysteries Book 4) Read online

  “And you trust Bickley’s information?”

  “Not entirely,” said Giles. “But I don’t think he’s playing with me. He doesn’t have any reason to protect Yardley.”

  “I’m surprised you are still prepared to go out to dinner,” Carswell said, “and not plunging into Bull Lane at once.

  “A man has to eat,” said Major Vernon.

  When they arrived at the Treasurer’s House, Canon Fforde met them in the hall and took them into his library. There they found Lord Milburne pacing the room, looking agitated.

  “You got my message, then?” Major Vernon said.

  “Yes,” said Milburne.

  “Have you seen your mother?” said Major Vernon.

  “His Lordship has only just arrived,” said Canon Fforde.

  “I wanted to speak to you sir, before...” Milburne broke off. “If you please?”

  “Of course,” said Major Vernon.

  “Let us go up and join the others, Mr Carswell,” said Canon Fforde. “Yes?”

  Felix went upstairs with Canon Fforde and into the drawing room where he received an enthusiastic greeting from Celia Fforde.

  “Mr Carswell,” she said, taking both his hand. He could not help smiling at it. “We have got a pair of white rats. Will you come and look at them?”

  -o-

  When they were alone, Milburne burst out, “I am not sure I like your way of arranging things, Major Vernon!”

  “Forgive me,” Giles said. “It is a little ad hoc, but with both of you appearing on my doorstep I had to improvise.”

  “Your brother-in-law is very civil, of course,” Milburne said, remembering his manners after a moment.

  “Yes, and you will like his brother. He wrote...”

  “Yes,” Milburne said. “So I hear. In other circumstances I should be delighted.”

  “Then talk to your mother, my Lord, and clear the air. She is as miserable as you.”

  “And you have said nothing to her?”

  “No. I gave you my word. And she understands that. So shall I go and fetch her?”

  “There will be no point!” said Milburne, throwing up his hands. “In all honesty I cannot see the point of anything. She hates me, Miss Rivers hates me – she will not see me. It really would have been better if you had let me cut my throat, Major Vernon, don’t you think?” He threw himself into one of the armchairs and pressed his hands to his face. “Ever since George told me about Bel, and what she had done,” he said, “ever since then, everything has been so wretched. I thought I had friends and now I have none. She will not see me! That housekeeper of yours said so! Oh God, how wish I were dead!”

  Giles sat down opposite him and wondered how he ought to proceed. He did not want to belittle the young man’s despair, but he did not think he should allow him to wallow in it. So he held his tongue. Fortunately his steady silence seemed to have some effect, allowing Milburne to gather his reason and regain his composure. At last the young man looked up and said, “Do you really think my mother will understand?”

  “I believe so,” Giles said. “From what I see, you are quite alike. Passionate and strong-willed. And she cares so much for you, and she will forgive you anything in the end, if you are straight with her. That is all she wants from you – honesty.”

  Milburne looked keenly at him, for a long space. In the firelight his features lost their boyish cast. Then he rubbed his face and sighed.

  “You are probably right,” he said.

  “Might I offer you some other advice? You don’t need to take it – you have had heard quite enough from me, I imagine,” said Giles, “but this is worth saying: get yourself a profession – the church, the law, politics – anything that interests you. Something that you will have to work for and that will take you into the world.”

  “You don’t suggest the army this time, I see,” Milburne said.

  “What you said had some truth in it,” Giles said getting up from his chair.

  “So when shall I talk to her?” said Milburne, rising also. “I promise I shall do so, this time, sir,” he added, a little sheepishly.

  “Perhaps after dinner? A good meal will put you both in a kinder frame of mind, and my sister keeps an excellent table. In fact, just the sight of you will put her mind at rest. And of course there is Dr Fforde eager to be told how remarkable his book is. You will be very welcome!”

  “It is remarkable. You must read it.”

  “I will, when...” Giles stopped, thinking of Yardley and the task ahead of him. “When I have my next leave, though Heaven knows when that will be. Now, shall we go upstairs, my Lord?”

  -o-

  When the white rats, Hebe and Dorcas, had been admired, encouraged to do tricks and then put away, and Celia herself gone to bed, Felix returned to the drawing room. As he sat there with Canon and Mrs Fforde, Mrs Maitland and Dr Fforde, he was aware he was adding very little to the party. He could not shake his annoyance at the impossibility of Sukey ever being admitted there, to sit beside him. How was it that their world, this particular world, usually so civil and generous and charitable, should be so utterly inflexible on this most important point? She was not their inferior, only different.

  The worst of it was that she seemed to agree with them, and was quite willing to accept the status quo. That he could not begin to understand.

  Perhaps, he thought, their mutual ineligibility, which she so liked to point out, was in truth a convenient excuse. Maybe she did not want to marry him because she did not truly love him. This alarming idea slithered into his head, just as Major Vernon and Lord Milburne came into the drawing room.

  Naturally there was a burst of greetings and the necessary introductions were made. There was even a tender passage between Mrs Maitland and Lord Milburne who embraced quite as if they had not seen each other for many months rather than two nights.

  They went into dinner, and Felix tried to distract himself with Canon Fforde’s excellent wine, but he found he had no heart for even that, nor much appetite for the food. He wanted to go back to Sukey and fold her in his arms, desperate for the reassurance of her, the feel of her warm skin against his, the touch of her fingers in his hair. Yet at the same time he was tormented that it was all some kind of diabolical illusion, that it meant nothing and that she meant nothing by it.

  Edward Fforde was going on at some length, having found an adoring audience in Mrs Maitland and Lord Milburne. Felix had no opinions about Joan of Arc, let alone the Kings of France and their endless wars.

  “And she really wore a suit of armour?” Mrs Maitland was asking.

  “Yes, the Dauphin had it made for her, by one of the finest armourers in France. It is a shame it did not survive,” Dr Fforde said.

  “I read that part of it did,” said Milburne. “The right glove, at least.”

  “I fear that was a forgery, knocked up to gull some eager antiquarian. Or if not a forgery, certainly not having any connection with the Maid,” said Dr Fforde.

  “That’s the sort of thing I can imagine Squire Yardley buying,” remarked Felix.

  “Yes, quite,” said Mrs Maitland. “Have you any acquaintance with the Yardley family, Dr Fforde? They are neighbours of ours at Whithorne. He is quite the medievalist, as Mr Carswell says, but I suspect, of the entirely spurious type.”

  “He is a great deal more than that, unfortunately,” said Major Vernon.

  “Oh yes?” said Mrs Fforde, with a frown. “That sounds ominous.”

  “It will be for him, God willing,” said Major Vernon. He turned to Dr Fforde. “Tell me a little more about Joan’s alleged armour. Where did you hear about that?”

  “It was from a correspondent of mine in Paris,” said Dr Fforde. “Father Le Montagne. He is a Dominican and a splendid scholar.”

  “Did someone buy it?” Major Vernon asked.

  “I believe they did, and then took it to some authority for verification. They then discovered it was not all that it seemed. A most unfortunate business.”r />
  “Certainly.” Major Vernon glanced across the table at Felix, while at the same time tracing patterns on the white damask cloth with his forefinger. “But that could be of some use to us, yes, in drawing him out?”

  “Are you thinking of constructing a lure?” said Felix.

  “Not perhaps Joan of Arc’s armour,” said Major Vernon, “but some interesting trifle, rather rare, that piques his curiosity. Yes?”

  “Mr Yardley’s curiosity, I take it, Major?” put in Mrs Maitland.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think he has done?” said Canon Fforde.

  “He is a murderer, certainly, and more.”

  “Dear Lord,” murmured Mrs Fforde.

  “The poor girl in the culvert?” said Mrs Maitland.

  “Mary Taylor,” said Major Vernon. “Yes.”

  There was a silence, and then Lord Milburne said, “There is something, sir, that might help you. Do you remember, Mother, when we called there first, he showed them to us – that collection of old manuscripts?”

  “Oh yes, I remember,” said Mrs Maitland. “Too well. He would not stop talking about them. You were most polite and enthusiastic and I was finding it quite hard to be. Fortunately I was rescued by Miss Yardley.”

  “They were interesting,” said Lord Milburne. “And he told me that he wanted a copy of the Chronicle of St Remy. Which is of course very rare.”

  “Perhaps you have one in your library, Dr Fforde?” said Major Vernon.

  “I wish I did,” said Dr Fforde. “Neither Salvator’s nor even the Bodleian has such a treasure.”

  “But perhaps you have come across something akin to that?” Major Vernon said. “A few pages, an incomplete version. Something that we can begin a rumour about.”

  “Yes, I see. Well, I suppose that might be possible.”

  “It only needs to sound plausible. It does not have to exist. It is just a means of bringing him out into the open.”

  “Very cunning,” said Mrs Maitland with a smile.

  “But a little dubious,” said Dr Fforde. “Forgive me for saying so, but if such a rumour were begun, even with such an object in mind, it might reflect rather ill on my reputation if a bogus item were linked with my name.”

  “We can keep your name out of it,” said Major Vernon. “All I want from you is a confection.”

  “That is not something anyone has ever asked of me before,” said Dr Fforde, “I must say.”

  “That’s the difference between Oxford and Northminster,” said Canon Fforde, raising his glass to his brother. “I am asked for confections all the time, Ned.”

  This attempt at humour failed completely. Dr Fforde remained stone-faced.

  “I don’t think that anyone should scruple at such means, Dr Fforde,” Mrs Maitland said, “if you don’t mind me being so bold? We must do all we can to assist the course of justice, and this man Yardley – well, to kill an innocent girl, and leave her body in a culvert to rot away – it is beyond monstrous!”

  “And the details –” Felix said.

  “We can spare this company the exact details,” said Major Vernon, cutting in. “Dr Fforde, I do appreciate that this may seem unusual, but the situation is an unusual one. I am anxious to put a stop to this man’s activities. He is very dangerous. I hope you can consider assisting us.”

  Edward Fforde sipped his wine and seemed to be considering the point.

  Then Lord Milburne said, “It is just like Gaspard de Huringen luring out the grey beast, in the Chronicle of the Green Rood, is it not?”

  Dr Fforde, clearly surprised, said to Milburne, “You have read that?”

  “Oh yes,” said Milburne. “I tried to make a verse translation of it, but I didn’t have much success.”

  “Why are you not up at the University?” said Dr Fforde.

  “A good question,” said Canon Fforde.

  “That is all my fault, I fear,” said Mrs Maitland. “Our prospects have been so difficult for such a long time that my son’s education has not been all it should have been. Oxford always seemed quite an impossibility until...” She stopped, looking truly mortified.

  “No, Mama, it is not your fault,” said Lord Milburne. “It was too expensive. And then when I got the title and the estate...” He shrugged.

  “Would you like to go to Oxford?” said Major Vernon.

  “It must be Oxford,” said Canon Fforde, “and Salvator’s, or you shall never dine here again, my Lord.”

  Lord Milburne looked bewildered at that.

  “I am sorry, sir?”

  “Excuse my levity,” said Canon Fforde. “No, you must choose for yourself, Lord Milburne. Choose the Other Place if you must, and we will write all the letters you need, whatever you decide, yes, Ned?”

  “Yes, certainly, but I do think you have the temperament of an Oxford man.”

  “And a Salvator’s man,” said Canon Fforde. “But you may have family connections that incline you otherwise.”

  “Could it be managed?” said Lord Milburne. “What about the estate?”

  “We shall get some better advice. That is well overdue,” said Mrs Maitland. “Do not let the thought of that trouble you. This is more important.”

  On this triumphant note, the ladies left the dining room. The cloth was cleared, the port brought out and Dr Fforde set to interrogating Milburne, in a manner that made Felix remember the horror of viva examinations in his weaker subjects at Edinburgh. However, Milburne was surprisingly sure of his ground, given it was an unexpected attack.

  “I think Ned already has him lined up as a future fellow and ally in all senior common room disputes,” said Canon Fforde. “You won’t have another?” he added, when Major Vernon refused a second glass of port.

  “Regrettably, we have work to do, don’t we, Carswell?” he said, as Felix picked up the decanter. Undeterred, Felix took another glass. If Major Vernon was planning a grim exploration of the less salubrious parts of Northminster, he would not go with him without some fortification.

  Chapter Thirty

  “We have to conclude that Bickley’s information, if well-intentioned, was vague,” said Major Vernon. “At least in the first instance.”

  “Well-intentioned?” said Felix. “Surely nothing about the man is that?”

  “Yes, perhaps that isn’t quite the right expression for it,” said Major Vernon, reaching for another piece of toast, and buttering it.

  Felix could not help yawning – he had not had a great deal of sleep. For the last two nights they had been scouring the town late at night for signs of Yardley, a process that had proved both sordid and futile. Returning last night in the small hours, he had longed to climb into bed with Sukey, but had exercised what self-control he had left and gone up to his own room. Here, he found that the hot water bottle she had ordered to be placed there was now tepid, and no substitute at all for the warmth of her body against his.

  Now, sitting at breakfast with Major Vernon, he felt he would like to crawl back to bed, or at least loaf the day away by Sukey’s fireside, perhaps reading a novel to her while she did the mending. In his fancy, this scenario would necessarily evolve into idle conversation and kisses, and then perhaps something else.

  Major Vernon gestured towards the coffee pot.

  “It’s a poor substitute for sleep,” Felix said, refilling his cup.

  “Here’s to better luck in future,” said the Major, draining his own coffee cup. “And painful though it might seem, it is a beginning in a process of elimination. Also we have the rudiments of our lure in hand.”

  “If Dr Fforde has not had second thoughts.”

  “We shall goad him into it,” he said, and got up from the table. “I wonder how Miss Rivers is this morning.”

  “You want to talk to her?”

  “You should continue with it. You seem to have her trust. Try mentioning Yardley if you think the moment allows it. See what she has to say about him.”

  “I will try,” said Felix.

>   Major Vernon was putting on his overcoat when there was a knock at the door and Sukey came in, a tray in her hand, to clear away the breakfast things.

  “I hope we did not disturb you coming back so late,” Major Vernon said.

  “No, I didn’t hear a thing. And thank you for locking up, sir,” she said, gathering up the dirty plates and avoiding – Felix felt – looking directly at him, although he still sat at the table, finishing his coffee. “Will you want dinner tonight?”

  “Probably not,” said the Major, drawing on his gloves. “But I shall let you know by noon, if I do.”

  “I’ll put something cold by for you, whatever,” she said, “Mr Carswell?” she added, glancing at Felix.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “I was just in with the Professor,” she said. “He’s looking grim this morning. Should we get Dr Pooley back, or will you look at him?”

  “I am going that way. I can call at Pooley’s,” said Major Vernon. “Has young Mr Holzknecht gone out already?”

  “Yes,” Sukey said.

  “I will go and look at him,” Felix said. “There is no need to get Pooley just yet.”

  “As you like,” said Major Vernon and taking up his hat made his farewells, leaving them alone together.

  Sukey would have followed him with the tray, but Felix blocked the way, taking the tray from her and putting it down on the table.

  “I need to get on,” she said. “And so do you.”

  “Five minutes,” said Felix closing the door. She nodded. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said.

  “There is something,” he said. “You look...”

  “It’s nothing.”

  He attempted to take her hand and she resisted. Instead she walked across the room, her arms wrapped about her.

  “Is it because of the other night?” he said. “Because I talked about marriage?” She shook her head. “Then what is it? I didn’t come in last night because it was so late, I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m sorry, should I have? I wanted to.”

  “It’s nothing,” she said. “That doesn’t matter.” She came and leant against him suddenly, her arms about his neck, her head pressed against his chest. She sighed as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m all right.”