The Ghosts of Ardenthwaite (The Northminster Mysteries Book 5) Page 3

  He made his apologies to the Colonel, who was equally apologetic about the length of time it was taking to fetch Dr Hall.

  The rain cleared as he rode the four miles over to Holbroke, and it felt at least that he was doing something useful by going there. The housekeeper Mrs Hope welcomed him with a warm civility which was flattering. The loyal retainers of such great families were often haughty with those they did not think the equals of their masters.

  “I did not think there would be any great difficulty, Mrs Hope,” he said. “Lady Rothborough is staying in Italy, I understand.”

  “Yes, sir, and who knows when she will come here again!” said Mrs Hope. “She never cared for us much,” she added with a sniff. “Lady Maria is coming, but not Lady Augusta nor Lady Charlotte. She has gone to stay with Lady Dunbar, which makes it sound like a settled thing. Had you heard anything more on that, sir? We are all wanting to know what is what.”

  She was referring to the laboured saga of courtship between the Earl of Dunbar and Lady Charlotte, Lord Rothborough’s eldest daughter.

  “I knew she was going to Scotland,” said Giles, “but no more than that, I’m afraid.”

  “They had better make up their minds for once and for all!” said Mrs Hope. “I can’t fathom what all the delay is about, sir. Lady Maria told me that she thought they were beautifully suited, and her opinion is good enough for me.”

  “Lady Maria always sees the best in every situation,” said Giles.

  “That is true enough, sir,” said Mrs Hope. “She is the sweetest creature alive. She will be very distressed to hear about Mr Carswell, I think.”

  “Hopefully it will all prove to be a trifle, but I thought to be on the safe side –”

  “His Lordship would not want it otherwise, I am sure of that, sir, quite sure. I will go and see to everything at once. And the carriage will be ready for you now, sir.”

  Driving back in the comfort of the carriage, he found himself closing his eyes and remembering the strange dreams of the night before. How vividly Laura had appeared, as if he could have reached out and touched her.

  He had often dreamed of her, but she had always seemed somewhat remote, as if in another room. He had always known in those dreams that she was dead. Yet last night he had sincerely doubted it and now, as the carriage lulled him to sleep, he had the same undeniable sense of her presence. She was sitting beside him, in fact.

  She reached out and insinuated her hand into his.

  “I am so glad to be leaving there at last,” she said, and leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. He reached up and pushed up the little silk frill that trimmed the back of her bonnet, revealing the nape of her neck. In a moment he would kiss it.

  He jumped back into wakefulness just as the carriage made the sharp turn into the long avenue leading to Ardenthwaite.

  Chapter Three

  Carswell was hardly a model patient, but Holbroke and its luxuries contrived to soothe his agitation, and the fever passed within a short time of his arriving there. This was succeeded by a profound exhaustion, and he asked to be left to sleep.

  He was still asleep when Lord Rothborough and Lady Maria arrived the following afternoon, and the Marquis, although he sat for some time at his bedside, did nothing to disturb him.

  “I cannot thank you enough for bringing him here,” said Lord Rothborough said to Giles, later that day, after Giles had explained the circumstances.

  “He would not stay at Ardenthwaite,” Giles said.

  “The Lord only knows what is going on at that house. It is a very bizarre turn of events. I should not have guessed at such a thing in a thousand years.”

  “You’ve had no dealings with Colonel Parham?” asked Giles.

  “No. I haven’t even met the man. Pye made the usual enquiries, of course – at least I trust he did. You think that something is not right about him?”

  “I don’t know. It is a strange claim, to say the least.” He considered a moment and then said, “This may sound like fuelling his fire, my Lord, but are you aware of any stories about the house?”

  “We have ghosts aplenty here, Vernon, so the stories go – and I have never seen hide nor hair of one. And I have never heard anything related to Ardenthwaite or the Ardens. It’s curious. It has the look of a place which ought to be haunted.”

  “Exactly,” said Giles.

  “If it had been famous for its ghosts, I would have heard of it, certainly,” said Lord Rothborough. “I had a tutor at one time, before I went to Harrow, who had quite a bent for these things. He was always scurrying about collecting such lore, and I went with him. It was most agreeable, as you may imagine. He was a charming man, but my Greek was not much improved. He is the Dean of Rochester now. I shall write to him about it. It is an excellent excuse for a letter. Besides, that and the university question, of course. Touching on that, by the way, your brother-in-law has been very useful to me on that account.”

  “He has?”

  “Yes, while I was languishing in Italy we have been having quite a lively correspondence on the matter. We are extremely lucky to have such a sound man at the helm of the finances. The late Bishop could not have been more judicious when he made him a trustee. They were very close, I understand.”

  “They had the same interests,” said Giles. “And at the end, I think my brother-in-law was one of the few people he could bear to see.”

  “If there were any justice in the world, then it would be your brother-in-law being installed as our new Bishop,” Lord Rothborough said. “I did put his name forward, but it seems that neither good sense nor the virtue of continuity can prevail in this present climate of enthusiasm.”

  “I’m not sure he would have accepted,” said Giles. “He is not ambitious, and my sister thinks the Palace a very inconvenient house.”

  “She’s quite right about that!” said Lord Rothborough, smiling. “I am hoping that the new man and his family will realise that soon enough and move into Red Lodge, perhaps – then the Palace might be put to use for the University. There are ten children I believe! Ten! But then these evangelicals are often monstrously fertile. One feels rather for their poor wives!” Lord Rothborough shook his head. “Have you met him yet?”

  “No.”

  “But you are going to the installation?”

  “No, I have not been invited. Captain and Mrs Lazenby will do the honours for the constabulary. But I am going to the Guildhall.”

  “I shall be interested to know what you make of him.”

  “You’ve met him?”

  “Just him, and only briefly. I cannot say I was impressed. He is glossy – that is the best word I can think for him. He may be perfectly sincere, of course, but with these people who make such a noise about their convictions, it always seems like insincerity to me. But he may grow into his mitre. He is only five and forty after all. He is very young for such a great preferment. One can but live in hope.” Rothborough shrugged.

  At this moment, James Bodley, Lord Rothborough’s trusted manservant, who had been set to watch Carswell, came in.

  “Master Felix is awake again, my Lord,” he said, “and has asked for his dinner.”

  “Excellent news! I hope you kept him to his bed.”

  “Yes, my Lord.”

  They went up to his room and found Lady Maria already in attendance. Carswell was sleepy and a little bewildered, but clearly in better spirits than previously.

  “I am trying to persuade Mr Carswell to stay here at least a week, Papa,” Lady Maria said.

  “Very sound,” said Lord Rothborough. “And we will get Hall to have another look at you tomorrow.”

  “There would be no point. I intend to be back in Northminster tomorrow night. I am quite myself again, I assure you, my Lord.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “Mr Harper is expecting me at the Infirmary,” Carswell said. “I have slept it off, whatever it was!”

  “Perhaps Mr Harper might confirm if you
are fit for work?” Giles said. “You trust his opinion, I know.”

  “You would take leave if he told you to, I think,” said Lord Rothborough.

  “Yes,” Carswell conceded.

  “Then I shall write to him straight away,” said Lady Maria. “And tell him what he must say.”

  Carswell looked alarmed at this for a moment, and then realised he was being teased.

  “Mind you,” Giles said, “given what you have done for him, Lady Maria, it is a favour overdue.”

  “What have you done?” said Carswell.

  “My sister tells me that Lady Maria’s efforts have swollen the Infirmary funds to almost monstrous proportions,” Giles said.

  “I simply wrote a few letters,” she said. “And by no means all of them hit the mark.”

  “Enough of them did. It was quite an undertaking, I understand.”

  “Yes, she was at it night and day at one point,” said Lord Rothborough.

  “It was simply that I didn’t care for Italy. I was homesick. It was a great comfort to write to people at home. I never feel quite myself, except when I am here, to tell you the truth. And to be able to do something useful in Northminster even when I was away – it was a pleasure, and I shall always be grateful to Mrs Fforde for her suggestion that I do it. It was all her idea.”

  “She would say the opposite – that it was all yours,” said Giles.

  “It was a happy meeting of minds, certainly,” said Lord Rothborough. “Your sister, Vernon, writes the most delightful letters – they were cherished in Florence by us all.”

  “Mr Harper has said nothing of this to me,” said Carswell. “If he had, then –”

  “Oh, it’s not supposed to be generally known,” said Lady Maria. “And I hope, Major Vernon, you have not been gossiping about the town about it, ” she added with a mocking wag of her finger.

  “No, of course he has not, Maria,” said Lord Rothborough.

  “I do not want to be put up as a plaster saint for writing a few letters, really I do not!”

  “Then you had better go and break some hearts at the races,” said Giles.

  “Oh yes, that is a much better reputation to have,” said Lady Maria.

  “If we are allowed to have our races this year,” said Lord Rothborough. “The new Bishop has preached against horse racing on several occasions, I understand. If he will not have the Bishop’s Feast nor a ball, then I fear he will be agitating against that as well.”

  “He could not do that, surely, Papa?” said Lady Maria. “Entirely stop them, I mean?”

  “He could if he puts his mind to it. Some of the land that the racecourse is on belongs to the palace demesne – the far eastern quarter, to be precise. The rest is ours, of course, but it would be a poor sport without that stretch. Then where would I find anyone to take the tenancy of it, and make a living from three quarters of a racecourse?” He sighed. “But what will be, will be. Perhaps racing in Northminster is just another of those old customs that must fall away in the face of modern opinion. There are probably many good arguments to support our new Bishop, not merely that there is too much worldly pleasure in it. I am sure, Vernon, you can tell me what a den of thievery it always is.”

  “There will always be an element of that, yes,” said Giles. “But I don’t think that’s reason enough to abolish it. If these occasions are carefully supervised and the amount of strong drink available is regulated, then it could be a respectable entertainment.”

  “I am with the Bishop,” said Carswell. “It is an excellent source of broken necks, if you ask me.”

  “You have clearly never won a shilling on a horse that no one else fancied,” said Giles. “That you picked out for its beauty alone.”

  “Yes, quite!” said Lady Maria. “Ah, here is your dinner, Mr Carswell. We shall leave you and go and eat ours.”

  So they left Carswell to his food, with Holt in attendance and went downstairs to the family dining room for their own dinner.

  Afterwards, Giles went back up to see Carswell, and found him sitting by the fire.

  “Are you sure you will be fit to go tomorrow?” he said.

  “I think so,” said Carswell. “I managed to eat. There was a point I felt I would never eat again.”

  “And you cannot think what might have caused this?”

  “Unless I accept that there are such things as phantoms, I can only think it must have been something I ate or drank that night. But you and the Colonel had exactly the same dinner – and nothing seems to have afflicted you. Or has it? Did you not say you had a curious dream?”

  “Yes, but that’s common enough, surely. You were raving, and violently ill. I was not.”

  Giles wondered if he should mention the strange experience he had had in the carriage coming back from Holbroke, and then decided it would only fuel Carswell’s confusion. What he had felt was merely a waking dream brought on by fatigue and the feelings the previous night had stirred up in him. He added to that the business of being at Holbroke itself, where she had died and had been laid to rest.

  “Perhaps there was something in the food to which I have an antipathy,” Carswell went on. “You know how it is sometimes – my father will not touch rhubarb, for example. It gives him dyspepsia. But there is nothing I know of that disagrees with me.”

  “Except too much wine,” Giles said, “if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “No. But how much did I have, in truth? It was not an excessive amount.”

  “Perhaps we should write down exactly what it was we ate,” said Giles taking out his notebook.

  “Artichoke soup,” said Carswell, with decision, “and then trout, and then there was woodcock with that red sauce, and the fricassee, with kidneys and mushrooms.”

  “Madeira sauce,” said Giles.

  “Then there was a custard tart,” said Carswell, “and blue cheese, walnuts and pears.”

  “Quite a feast for a so-called simple dinner,” said Giles.

  “You would not say that in this house.”

  “Yet we ate far more simply tonight,” said Giles. “Monsieur Calvert has left. Stolen by the Duke of Mertoun. Now, did you try everything that was served?”

  “Yes. Did you?”

  “Yes, but I only had a small amount of the fricassee. I don’t much like kidneys.”

  “You don’t? It was excellent.”

  “And you took most of it, I remember that now.”

  “But such things have never disagreed with me before. Neither kidneys, nor mushrooms. I am very fond of mushrooms. Sukey used to –” He broke off and stared into the fire. “No, it cannot have been the food, it cannot, nor the wine, although I freely admit I may have taken too much. It has to be something else which we have not as yet identified. I was running about the woods in my shirt, for the Lord’s sake, and I have no recollection of how I got there! None at all. It is utterly mystifying. Tell me what your dream was.”

  “I cannot see that it has anything to do with it,” said Giles, and then said, “it was my wife. I dreamt I was in Heaven with her, and my sister, who died when I was five. It was – I suppose I have had such dreams before. It is just I do not remember them. This one was very vivid, yes, but I do not think it can have any relation to what happened to you.”

  “But I was dreaming, after some fashion. I cannot have been awake. I must have been sleep walking or some such. The women I spoke to – the woman in the grey cloak and then the Queen of the Fairies – how could they be anything but dreams, no matter how real they seemed?”

  “The Queen of the Fairies?” Giles said.

  “The girl with the red hair,” Felix said. “I was sure she was the Queen of the Fairies. I knew she was. Which is nonsense and therefore strictly for the realm of dreams which are always entirely void of reason.”

  “But full of desire,” Giles could not help remarking.

  “Why should I want to see the Queen of the Fairies?”

  “You said she was beautiful,” said Giles.
“And she is famous for seducing young men, is she not?”

  Carswell pressed his hands to his face.

  “I am going back to bed. And I will let Harper look me over. You are right. He is the only medical man I trust, and he may have some good ideas.”

  Chapter Four

  “Not the most pleasant return to work for you, Mr Carswell,” said Mr Harper, drawing back the sheet which covered the body. “He died at just after six. As you can see, I performed a double amputation of the lower legs, at a little after two this morning, and the prognosis seemed quite good for recovery. However –” Mr Harper hesitated, as if annoyed with himself for his failure. “That was not to be. Of course, I did consider preservation of the limbs, but given the extent of the damage to the upper abdomen, not to mention his head –” He broke off again. “What kind of Godless savage would attack another being like that? In all my years, I do not think I have ever seen anything like it.”

  “It is certainly methodical,” said Felix, throwing off his coat and beginning a more thorough examination.

  “I shall leave you to your work,” said Harper. “My notes are here on the side, with his clothes. But be careful you do not over-strain your own health, Mr Carswell. I would have prescribed another day or two’s rest if this business had not reared its ugly head.”

  “No, I shall not,” said Felix. “And I am quite well again, sir, I promise.”

  Left alone in the icy basement, Felix wondered for a moment if this was entirely true. The extent of the injuries displayed by dead man was shocking. He had thought he was to some degree hardened to such sights; but handling one of the amputated limbs, feeling for himself the shattered bones beneath the flesh, and seeing the regularity of the contusions where the assailant’s weapon had repeatedly battered his victim, made him nauseous.

  He took a nip of brandy and forced himself to continue his investigations, accompanied by loud peals of bells from the Minster. He was glad when Major Vernon joined him.

  “Has anything come to light about how it happened?” he asked.