The Fatal Engine Page 6

  “I have some bottles from the house for you to test,” Major Vernon said. “I also have the coroner’s chit for the post-mortem.”

  “I hope that Mr Truro does not expect to attend,” said Felix.

  “He may not have the stomach for it,” said Major Vernon. “But if he shows any signs of wishing to, I will make sure he is well distracted.”

  “Thank you,” said Felix. “I will get on to it first thing tomorrow.”

  He glanced through the window at the snow. “I think I may stay here tonight.”

  “Then come and dine with us,” said Major Vernon. “Mrs Vernon would be grateful if you did.”

  “Really?” Felix was surprised they would wish to be interrupted.

  “You are always welcome,” said Major Vernon. “But we have a visitor of the sort who needs diluting. Mrs Vernon’s half-sister.”

  “Then I’ll be glad to assist,” said Felix. “I think you might say that of Truro as well. I don’t quite know how, but he’s an instant irritant.”

  “Perhaps he puts all his charm into his work.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “And to be fair, he may improve on acquaintance.”

  “You would rather not have him dogging your footsteps, though.”

  “It is a nuisance, but one that we must bear, unfortunately,” said Major Vernon. “And he may be of use.”

  “Eleanor would say we have a genius at our disposal.”

  “She may be right,” said Major Vernon. “We will see you at seven, then?”

  ~

  Felix made his way through a good foot of settled snow to Rooke Court and was glad to find a huge fire burning in the large stone fireplace in the entrance hall. Here Major Vernon was supervising a pair of children who were roasting chestnuts in shallow copper pans.

  “Mr Carswell, may I present Miss Sophy Gordon and her brother Master Hamish Gordon?” said the Major. “Sophy, Hamish, this is Mr Carswell. Sophy and Hamish have never had the pleasure of roasted chestnuts before, having lived in India all their lives. Oh Sophy, I think yours are about to burn – come shake them onto the plate here.” He held out a pewter plate so that the little girl could tip the contents of the pan into it. “Now put the pan down on the hearth there. Are yours ready, Hamish?”

  “I think so.”

  “Excellent,” said Major Vernon. “Let us get them on the plate and you can take them upstairs to the ladies.”

  This accomplished, the children went upstairs, Hamish solemnly carrying the charger of chestnuts.

  “Are they to be with you long?” Felix asked.

  “That is a large question. They were supposed to settle in London with another relation, but there seems to have been a quarrel.”

  In the drawing room, they found Mrs Vernon exclaiming with delight at being presented with roast chestnuts.

  “Quite my favourite thing, Hamish! How did you know? Ah, but you must be careful not to burn your mouth on them. They must sit there for just a minute or two. I know it is difficult to wait, but I warn you that it is quite horrible when you do get burnt.”

  “Like eating a chilli, Aunt Emma?” said Hamish.

  “I have never eaten a chilli,” said Mrs Vernon. “What is that like? Very fierce, I suppose.” Hamish nodded. “I don’t think I would be brave enough.”

  “What is it in a chilli that makes it hot, when it is not hot?” said Sophy.

  “A good question! Mr Carswell, you might tell us that – what is it in a chilli that makes them burn?” Mrs Vernon said.

  “It is a chemical called capsicin,” said Felix, “which is an acidic irritant. Have you really eaten a raw chilli, Master Gordon?”

  “Yes, sir, and my sister has. She’s quite brave for a girl.”

  “And lived to tell the tale,” said Major Vernon. “You are both extremely brave. I would never dare.”

  “Now, I think it is safe to try a chestnut,” said Mrs Vernon. “Shall we peel a few first to be on the safe side?”

  While she and the children were engaged on this, Major Vernon poured the sherry. A moment later the door opened and a woman came in, whom Felix assumed must be Mrs Vernon’s sister, for there was some physical resemblance between them. Although she was younger, and certainly handsome, Mrs Gordon did not have Mrs Vernon’s elegance, although she had her own bright plumage: a glowing silk and gold shawl thrown about an equally brilliantly coloured dress.

  “Mrs Gordon, Mr Carswell,” said Major Vernon, presenting him to her. “Carswell – my sister-in-law, Mrs James Gordon.”

  “Are you also a policeman, Mr Carswell?” she said.

  “I am a surgeon.”

  “Do you have a large practice here?”

  “Not very. I work mostly with Major Vernon on criminal cases. So I am a policeman of sorts.”

  “Will you have a chestnut, Mama?” said Sophy, coming up to them with a plate of peeled nuts. “We roasted them ourselves. Major Vernon showed us how.”

  “Oh, did he?” said Mrs Gordon, taking a nut. “How kind of him to take the trouble. But really, there is no need to bother yourself with them, Brother Giles, they are quite able to amuse themselves.”

  “It was a pleasure,” said Major Vernon. “And these are delicious, Miss Gordon. Done to a turn. Next time we will try roasting apples, and play snapdragon.”

  “Yes, please!” said Sophy. “Do you know what snapdragon is, Mama? Major Vernon says you set fire to a plate of raisins and try and take the raisins out, and it is very very exciting and dangerous.”

  “Surely that is a game for Christmas Eve?” said Mrs Gordon.

  “Yes, usually,” said Major Vernon, “but I think we need to get a little practice in. I have a niece and nephew who are highly skilled at it and consider themselves pre-eminent. It would be good for them to face a little competition. It is not long until Christmas, after all.”

  “Goodness! I think you want to reduce my children to cinders!” said Mrs Gordon.

  “Oh, are we staying here until Christmas?” said Sophy.

  “Yes, I think so,” said Major Vernon, reaching out and briefly caressing her hair as if she were a spaniel. Felix noticed that Mrs Vernon frowned and then turned away.

  “Now, children, say goodnight and go to bed,” said Mrs Gordon. “You should have been there half an hour ago, truth be told. Major Vernon has indulged you.”

  “But, but –” began Hamish, but Mrs Gordon gave a fierce shake of her head and pointed to the door.

  “To bed!”

  The children muttered their goodnights and ran from the room.

  Mrs Vernon rose and said, “I’ll go and see that –”

  “Oh, there’s no need for that, Emma,” said Mrs Gordon.

  “It’s a strange house and they are a long way from home,” said Mrs Vernon, leaving the room.

  “Ah, she is so tender,” said Mrs Gordon, laying her hand for a moment on Major Vernon’s arm. “And it’s so kind of you to take us in like this, Brother Giles.” She gave a sigh and drifted over to the fire, taking up a pose which Felix suspected was contrived to make them admire her figure. “I really don’t know where we would go otherwise. After my cousin has been so cruel, it seems something like a miracle. And for Christmas as well! You are really too kind.” She finished this little speech with a step towards Major Vernon and a rather, arch submissive smile before turning to Felix. “So, I suppose it is quite a busy season here over Christmas? Balls and dinners and so forth. Shall I have to search out my dancing slippers?”

  “Do you like dancing, Mrs Gordon?” Felix said.

  “Yes, excessively,” she said. “But an old woman like me hardly gets the opportunity.” This was said in a manner that was expecting instant contradiction. “Or perhaps there is more chivalry here in Northminster? Do you like to dance, Mr Carswell?”

  “Yes,” said Felix. “But not as much as my wife.”

  “Goodness, can you really be married? Is he really married?” said Mrs Gordon, turning to Major Vernon, who nodded. �
�But you seem much too young for that! She is a lucky girl, I am sure of it. Now, don’t tell me, she is your childhood sweetheart?” she said, going to sit down on the sofa. “Yes? Come and sit down,” she went on, patting the space beside her. “I want the whole tale – and do not spare me a single detail.”

  Felix had no wish at all to confide in her and was fortunately saved by Mrs Vernon returning to the room.

  “Alexander is asking for you,” she said to Mrs Gordon.

  “Well, he may ask and ask, but I will not go. It will spoil him if I go now. You did not say I would come, did you, Emma?”

  “No, but he seems inordinately distressed. I think you should go and settle him.”

  “That is for the nurse to do,” said Mrs Gordon.

  “Really, Julia, I think you should. He is beside himself.”

  Mrs Gordon looked most put out at this, sighed, and rose from the sofa.

  “You will tell me everything when I come back, Mr Carswell,” she said. “I shall not be a moment, I promise you.”

  She left, and Mrs Vernon, still standing at the open doorway, said, “I will go and tell Holt we shall be late to the table.”

  “There is no need –” began Major Vernon, but she had gone. Now it was Major Vernon’s turn to frown.

  Chapter Seven

  After a dinner which seemed to have been dominated by Mrs Gordon’s incessant chatter, Felix went back to the Infirmary, feeling some relief. She was, he decided, an irritating flirt, and he wondered at Major and Mrs Vernon’s tolerance. It would be a trial to have such a person in the house.

  It had stopped snowing, but what had fallen was deep enough to justify his not attempting to go home to Hawksby.

  He went to see Sarah Roper. She was still sound asleep. He could only hope that it was the sort of sleep she might wake from without undue confusion. Whatever drug it was that she had taken, either deliberately or inadvertently, it would be some time until her body was clear of its effects, a process that might be both difficult and painful for her. If it was, as he suspected, a case of laudanum addiction, the process would be lengthy, but she was young and that would help her cast off the shackles of the drug. Her physical strength was one matter, her mental strength another. Of course, all this was assuming that it was an opiate to blame – a drug she swore that she never indulged in. It was all a curious puzzle, and he hoped that the post-mortem on her father might throw something up that would help her.

  Having checked on some other cases, he made his way to the spartan sitting room that was used as a general mess room by the doctors and surgical dressers. Here he found Sam Tolley, one of the dressers, sitting on the bare boards by the fire, reading the Lancet.

  “I didn’t know you had drawn the short straw tonight,” said Felix.

  “It’s not so bad,” said Tolley. “It’s quiet, all in all.”

  “Sensible folk are staying put in their own houses,” Felix said, sitting down in the one chair that passed for comfortable.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” said Tolley.

  “Probably better I am,” said Felix. “I want to keep an eye on Miss Roper.”

  This was not strictly what he meant.

  He felt certain that if he had gone back to Hawksby he would have been assailed with temptation. There was something about a foul snowy night and a warm bed with a willing companion in it that made him wish he was comfortably home. Or rather he wished he could be in a position where the consequences of conjugal love did not matter.

  Of course, he had not been entirely chaste. There had been occasions when he had been utterly unable to guard himself. He would hardly have been human if he had managed that. Eleanor was too winning, too eager. No man could have resisted. He had satisfied himself and her, enjoying the transitory relief, only to wake the next morning feeling angry with himself as if he had drunk too much. Indeed, to his further shame, the two events had often gone hand in hand. He had tamped his anger at himself with the justification that any risk taken was entirely necessary to preserve his temper, not to mention hers.

  If she thought he was neglecting her, mercifully she seemed not to show it. He had not spared himself the pleasure of giving her those gentle embraces that gave women all the sweet relief they desired, although they only increased his own frustration. She seemed happy with that, at least, and talked little now of beginning a nursery; and she had kept herself busy making expensive alterations to Ardenthwaite.

  He had read a great deal on the subject of family limitation, attempting to discover if there were times when a woman was more or less likely to conceive. This was of course a subject much loved by old wives and gossips, but there was little scientific knowledge to prove or disprove any of it. It surprised him how little was actually known. Countrymen knew from the signs and seasons when it was best to put their ewes into the rough embrace of the ram. It puzzled him that the human female showed no such clear indications. Had their so-called civilisation veiled these important markers out of prudery? Or perhaps it was the raw desire of primitive times to increase the population at all costs. But in the present day, given the appalling conditions of the multitudes he saw teeming in the streets of Northminster, stuffing up those miserable alleys and courts, how could that be defended? What of all those sickly, malnourished babies and children and the wretched, endemic grief of their mothers, condemned as they were to the toil of birth and the unbearable pain of repeated loss? Why should such suffering be endured?

  “Anything interesting in the Lancet?” Felix said. Tolley yawned and shook his head. “Why don’t you sleep for a couple of hours? I’ll cover for you. I have some reading to do myself.”

  “Are you sure, Mr Carswell?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Felix.

  “Thank you,” said Tolley. “I shall, but I really need to get used to this as I have drawn the short straw for Christmas as well.”

  “Oh, that is bad luck,” said Felix.

  “Yes,” said Tolley. “I had hoped to go home.”

  “When did you last get home?”

  “It’s been a year,” said Tolley. “I wouldn’t mind, it’s just that my brother is on leave from the Navy. He hasn’t been home in three years. I think my mother would like to have us all under the same roof for Christmas again – but duty is duty.”

  Felix wondered at the regret in Tolley’s voice. He did not have a brother, and his relationship with his half-sisters was too complicated to evoke such simple emotions.

  “He won’t be back again for a while, I suppose,” he said.

  “No,” said Tolley. “But that’s the way it is. He’s doing well.”

  Felix thought a little longer and said, “How far away is your home?”

  “Staffordshire,” said Tolley.

  “I’ll speak to Mr Harper,” said Felix. “I could cover for you quite easily.”

  “You would, Mr Carswell?” said Tolley. “Isn’t this the first Christmas you’ll be with your –”

  “Yes,” said Felix, “but your brother – I will see what I can do.”

  “Thank you,” said Tolley. “I’d be so grateful – we all would be.”

  “I will speak to Mr Harper. Go and lie down – you can have two hours now.”

  “I shall,” said Tolley. “And thank you again.”

  “You’ll have to be back for Hogmanay, though,” Felix said.

  Left alone, Felix stared at the fire. It had been easy to give up what others considered a great privilege. It rather disturbed him how little he felt. Eleanor would not be pleased with him, for she was planning great Christmas festivities, involving all the village and more. But he felt Tolley’s longing to see his brother far more acutely than he did his wife’s disappointment.

  ~

  Having said her prayers, Emma climbed into bed without another word. She blew out her candle and lay down facing towards the wall as if she meant to go to sleep.

  “Emma, what is it?” he said. “How have I offended you?”

  “
I think you know perfectly well what you have done, but it does not matter. After all, it is not my place to criticise your decisions,” she said.

  “What?”

  “This is your house, and everything in it is yours, to order as you see fit,” she went on. “And of course, you are right, and I must not let my own...” – she hesitated – “ignoble, un-Christian, uncharitable ideas obscure what is right. That I cannot bear it is my own difficulty, not yours. I must learn to bite my tongue and –”

  “Oh,” said Giles, climbing in beside her. “I see.” He attempted to rub her back, but she stiffened and edged away.

  “She is my sister,” Emma went on. “And I must love her. It is my duty.”

  “But Christmas is perhaps too much to ask?” said Giles, after a moment.

  Now she sat up, her temper getting the better of her.

  “Dear Lord, yes! How could you, Giles? Could you not have made some excuse? Usually you are so clever at these things.”

  “I should blame young Sophy, but that would not be kind. Yes, it was my fault. I did not think. Or rather I was only thinking how pleasant it was roasting chestnuts.”

  “And not how it would be for me?”

  “Will it be so bad?”

  “I don’t know, but it is a great deal of work and a great deal of inconvenience. It is four extra people to consider, and children are really far harder than adults to accommodate, all in all, especially such young children who need to be watched and tended and –” She broke off and sank back on the pillows. “If Julia cared for them, it might be different, but –”

  “I think she must care, in her own way.”

  “You do not know her, Giles. You see only the good in people, though Heaven knows how, given what you do for a living! She does not care. They are nothing to her. You have not looked through their things as I have. They are little better than street urchins – they have scarcely any idea of anything. I suspect Hamish cannot read properly yet and he is eight! They have been shockingly neglected.”

  “All the better reason for us to take them in, then,” said Giles.