The Poisoned House (15 page)

.

Chapter 33

Even the house seemed different. Finishing the laundry and cleaning the rooms, I noticed things I never had before: the beauty of the seascapes in the sitting room, the patches of wear on the chairs around the dining table, the fine carvings on the mantel in the library. The garden outside seemed to glow in the late afternoon winter light. It was as if I were a different person inhabiting the new space.

I saw Lord Greave only once, shuffling in through the front door before dinner. Suddenly even the thought of addressing him seemed an impossibility. But fate intervened.

When it was time to take up His Lordship’s brandy, Mr Lock refused point blank to go, claiming his legs were bad. I suspected the real reason was that he feared whatever he had encountered earlier that day. I was happy, though, to carry up the tray.

Lord Greave sat in his chair beside the window, with a blanket over his knees.

My father.

I placed his decanter and glass on the low table beside him, then went to stoke his fire, which was smouldering weakly. From the corner of my eye, I watched him, searching his face to see something of myself. We both had blue eyes and slightly upturned noses, but that was all.

Observing him discreetly, I realised there was more to His Lordship’s silence than mere age. Now I fancied I could see deeper into his vacant sadness. There was loneliness too, wrapping itself around him like a shroud. I’d always dated his decline to the time when Samuel left for war, but now I saw it was not then at all. It dated from seventeen minutes past four, one day just over a year ago.

He was mourning for a woman whom he’d never been able to publicly acknowledge. There were no others to share his grief, so it was locked within him, carried in fading memories.

From the corner of my eye, beside the fireplace where the letters had almost been destroyed, I saw through the open door of his dressing room. Almost at once a phrase from the letters jumped into my mind and two pieces of the puzzle slotted together.

‘
Our secret way . . .
’

I felt a flush of heat, and it wasn’t from the coals. The handprint on the hatch. My mother’s handprint. What else could the ‘secret way’ have been, if not a way for them to see each other secretly without the rest of the house knowing? She must have used the hatch rather than the main stairs, where housekeeper or butler might have seen her.

As I stood up from the fire, trying to contain my excitement, Lord Greave spoke and his voice was bitter.

‘Samuel used to bring me up my drink, you know,’ he said.

‘Yes, sir,’ I said. ‘But he can’t now.’

I wondered if, in the depths of his madness, he’d already forgotten about Sammy’s leg.

He looked out of the window again. I filled his glass and placed it in front of him. He didn’t even acknowledge me.

It’s too late for us,
I thought. I could see that now. He might have been a father to me once, but that time had passed.

‘Will there be anything else, sir?’ I asked.

He continued to look out of the window.

‘Thank you, Abigail,’ he said.

It was the first time he’d used my name in a year.

I slept soundly that night until a dream shook me awake.

I was drifting high above the park on a cushion of warm cloud, approaching Greave Hall. All the windows were open as though the house was being aired, but I couldn’t see any people until I came closer. Then I made out Lizzy in her window, high on the side of the house. She waved to me happily, and I felt so glad that she was back home.

I saw a dark shape behind her in the room. From its outline, I knew it was Mrs Cotton. She approached stealthily, and Lizzy had no idea she was there. I shouted and shouted until my voice was hoarse, but the sound didn’t carry. I knew for a certainty that the housekeeper meant to push Elizabeth out, and she would fall three floors to her death.

There was nothing I could do. I was too far away. Mrs Cotton’s eyes glinted like a cat’s in the moonlight.

I woke breathing heavily.

I washed and dressed carefully. Today was going to be a very special day and I wanted to look my best.

After breakfast, I found Samuel in the sitting room reading
The Times
. He was smartly dressed in a grey suit with waistcoat. Even with the trouser leg stitched up beneath his right knee, he looked every inch the gentleman around town.

‘Hello, Abi,’ he said.

‘Morning, Sammy,’ I said. ‘You going out today?’

He shook his head. ‘No, I have some appointments here actually.’

I paused at the door, trying to find the right words to begin. But I was tongue-tied.

It was now or never.

‘Sammy, do you remember ever meeting my father?’

He hardly looked up from his newspaper.

‘Hmm, I don’t think he ever came here, did he? I must have been, what, three or four when he died.’

‘He’s not dead,’ I said.

Samuel looked up properly now and lowered the pages.

‘Say again?’

‘My father isn’t dead,’ I said. ‘My father wasn’t called Tamper at all.’

He put down the newspaper carefully and stood up. Leaning on his single crutch, he crossed the room slowly to the window, and looked out towards the Park. It wasn’t the reaction I expected. ‘Sammy?’ I said, walking a few steps closer, then hesitating once more. The words were there now, waiting in my throat. They emerged in a whisper. ‘My father is Lord Greave.’

Samuel didn’t move for several seconds, and I heard the ticking of the clock in the hall. I could never have guessed what he would say next. He sighed heavily and nodded his head a fraction, still facing away from me.

‘So now you know.’

.

Chapter 34

At first I thought I must have misheard. ‘You knew?’

He turned slowly from the window. ‘I suspected.’

My breath was coming in gasps as I struggled to understand what he was telling me. ‘But – but why did you never say?’

Sammy watched me with large, sad eyes. ‘I didn’t know for sure. I could hardly ask my father, and I didn’t want to upset you without first knowing that I was right. What a mess families are, eh, Abi?’

He was smiling now, and held out his arms to me. I walked across the room and fell into them, hugging him tightly. ‘Shall I call you my little sister?’ he said, laughing.

I realised I was crying. Never in my dreams had I imagined he would be so . . . well, so easy about it. I knew he’d always cared for me, of course, but this was too, too good of him.

‘You can call me what you wish,’ I said through the tears. ‘Oh, I’ve wet your clothes.’

He held me at arm’s length and looked down at me. ‘Well, little sister, how did you find out?’

‘I found a letter, half-burned in the grate. It was from my mother to your father. Here . . .’ I fished the pages out of my apron and handed them to him.

He read them closely, chuckling. I don’t know what made me tell a white lie. I suppose there was so much to say, I didn’t want to rush things.

‘I know I shouldn’t have looked,’ I said, ‘but I saw her name and, well . . .’

‘I understand,’ he said, nodding. He put the letters down on the window sill. ‘And have you told my – our father?’

I shook my head. ‘I saw him last night, when I took his drink up. I’m afraid he – he was –’

‘Mad?’ said Samuel matter-of-factly. ‘There’s no need to skirt around it, Abi. The man’s lost his mind.’ He grimaced. ‘If only I’d been here more, perhaps we could have helped him together.’

‘We can help him now,’ I suggested.

‘It’s too late for that, I fear,’ said Samuel. ‘He can’t look after himself any more – barely eats a thing. The only thing we can do for him now is make him comfortable, take away the few remaining stresses in his life. In fact, I’ve got Doctor Ingle coming to take a look. See if there’s some specialist help we can get for him.’

He lowered his gaze sadly. I thought how brave Sammy was then, taking on such responsibility. It must have been so hard to watch his father slip away like that. He dragged my attention back to more pressing matters. ‘I take it you haven’t told anyone else yet?’ he said, sounding tired now. He cocked his head. ‘Elizabeth, maybe?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Haven’t you heard? Mrs Cotton sacked Lizzy. Sent her away because of the burglary.’

‘My aunt is very strict,’ he replied.

‘But it wasn’t Lizzy’s fault,’ I said. ‘Sammy, you can talk to her. Make her see sense.’

Samuel frowned. ‘From what I understand, she gave this chap a key so he could sneak in and see her after hours. Sounds like a sackable offence to me.’

‘Please, Sammy,’ I said. ‘She’s my friend. Do it for me.’

His frown lifted and he sighed. ‘For you then, sister,’ he said. ‘But you must do something for me.’

‘What’s that?’ I said.

He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Keep all this between us for now, will you? Just till we have the arrangements with Father sorted out. I don’t want to upset him more than necessary.’

‘Of course,’ I said. We hugged again. ‘I’d better be getting back to work now.’

‘For the time being, that’s wise,’ he said. ‘Of course after the big announcement, things will change. Can’t have the daughter of the house scrubbing pans, can we?’

I laughed, feeling a tingle of excitement. ‘Mrs Cotton won’t be happy,’ I said. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

Samuel shrugged. ‘Is she ever?’

* * *

I didn’t think he’d spoken to her at lunch, because when she went out shopping afterwards, she looked serious but not aggrieved. About an hour after she left, three gentlemen arrived. There was Alexander Ambrose, Dr Ingle Senior, and an older man with long grey whiskers and long white hair like a lion’s mane. Samuel thanked them for coming and I took their coats. Mr Lock was sent to bring down Lord Greave, and I to prepare tea for the guests. The arrival was the cause of some excitement below stairs.

‘What’s happening?’ said Rob. ‘Who’s the old duffer?’

I didn’t let on that I knew anything at all, but even I was slightly intrigued as to who the ‘old duffer’ might be.

I took up the china and beverages just as Mr Lock was coming the other way from the sitting room. Samuel was leaning against the doorway, and though I didn’t hear what he said, I could see he had an imploring look on his face. Mr Lock looked at me, shaking his head and muttering angrily. ‘I’ll have nothing to do with it,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all.’

I couldn’t think what he meant, but Samuel gave me a sad smile and hobbled aside to let me pass. Lord Greave was sitting in the same place where I had sat for my interview with the constable, and the other men were arranged around the opposite side of the room.

‘And can you remember your wife’s name?’ said Dr Ingle.

‘Of course I can,’ said Lord Greave. ‘Eleanor Anne.’

The older man with the moustache huffed. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said. ‘An insult to my client.’

I was putting down the tray when Alexander said, ‘No insult is intended, I assure you, Mr Carter. We only intend to ascertain whether His Lordship –’

‘There’s no need to speak as though I’m not in the room,’ boomed Lord Greave.

‘Father,’ said Samuel, ‘would you mind leaving us for a moment?’

‘So I’m no longer welcome in my own parlour!’ said His Lordship.

‘Please, Father.’

‘A waste of everybody’s time!’ said Mr Carter.

‘I’m inclined to agree,’ said Dr Ingle.

Lord Greave looked quite serene, but stood up. ‘I shall be in my library, should you require my presence again. If not, good day, gentlemen.’

He left the room and I followed, closing it behind me. As he went into the library, he turned to me.

‘Silly, isn’t it, Susan? They seem to think I’ve lost my marbles.’

It still wasn’t clear to me what was going on, but I found Mr Lock sitting with Cook and Rob at the kitchen table. Their faces were grave.

‘Have they finished with him?’ asked Mr Lock in disgust.

‘I don’t understand. They’re asking him all sorts of odd questions,’ I said.

‘They’re wanting to send him away,’ said Cook sadly. ‘To a madhouse.’

I gasped. ‘I’m sure that’s not true. Sammy – Master Greave only wants what’s best for His Lordship.’

Rob snorted. ‘Master Greave wants this place for himself.’

‘You shouldn’t speak of things you don’t understand,’ I said angrily. They all looked up at that. ‘I mean,’ I said, ‘that a son naturally wants his father to suffer as little as possible. You know that His Lordship isn’t well – we all do. Especially Master Greave.’

They didn’t look convinced. I could hardly let them know what Samuel had told me – that he was trying to ease the burden on his father. How could they be so distrustful of goodness?

The gentlemen left shortly afterwards. At the door, Mr Carter turned to Samuel and pointed a chubby finger. He didn’t seem to care if I heard. ‘My firm has served your family for upwards of fifty years, young sir, and I hope the relationship will continue for fifty more, but I must say I have found today’s meeting a plain waste of my time and yours.’

I could see hurt in Samuel’s eyes.

‘Mr Carter, I appreciate your coming at short notice. You too, Doctor. All I can say is that this display of lucidity is quite out of character. He’s a different person normally, and barely leaves his rooms.’

‘Master Greave speaks the truth, gentlemen,’ cut in Alexander. ‘I have seen much of His Lordship over the past few weeks, and as a student of law myself –’

‘A student, indeed!’ said Mr Carter. A spot of red had appeared on each of his cheeks. ‘Well, sir, I have been practising for more years than you have been on this good earth, and if I was feeling less diplomatic than I am, I’d say this whole thing stinks.’ He nodded to Mr Lock. ‘Please pass on my good wishes to His Lordship.’

With that he climbed into his waiting carriage.