Murder at Locke Abbey (20 page)

“Nor I,” Peter Buchan added. “And father has been trying all day and still cannot explain it.”

Almost everyo
ne was crowded around her now, save for the older Buchan brothers, who were staring from across the room.

“Is that true, gentlemen? Do you concede?”

“Fine, show us!” Mr Buchan snapped.

“I shall take that as an agreement, the Irish families will be so pleased to receive your generous donation.”

“Just get on with it,” Lord Buchan urged.

“Very well, does anyone else have a coin they wish to donate to a good cause?” she asked.

Half a dozen coins were thrust in her general direction, causing her to rear back for fear of being struck in the face.

“Oh, let me take a seat first, please.”

The guests parted like the Red Sea for Moses and Thea made her way to an armchair.

“Is Master Cole not here?”

“He is coming,” Lord Small assured her. “But he did ask me to warn everyone that he might be a little late.”

“Oh. Well in that case…” S
he raised her hand and balanced the coin on two fingers and her thumb, then waved the other hand over, clicked her fingers and the coin vanished, to a round of applause. She held her position however.

“Where is it?”
Miss Emily demanded. “Please.”

“Look at the way I am positioned, what is the only conceivable hiding place?”

“Your, uh,” Michael Reynolds stammered. “Well…”

“It is not in my bosom.” She put him out of his misery. “It’s in my sleeve,” she admitted. Aiming the hand that ‘clicked’ down to the floor,
shaking her arm until something fell out, landing on the carpet.”

“But how did it get there?” Mrs Dale demanded.

“Easy. It takes practice but like all magic, the solution is decidedly dull. When I click the fingers of this hand, my middle finger hits the coin and if my aim is true, the coin flies into my sleeve.” To illustrate, she first mimicked the actions slowly and without a coin. She repeated the action three times, then picked the coin up and did it again. She did it a total of six more times until everyone seemed satisfied.

Most of the younger men already had coins out and were starting to practice.

“Do you know any other tricks?” Peter asked.

“I kno
w a few sleight of hand tricks.” She performed a few different tricks that although they looked different, were all variations of palming the coins. She refused to disclose how those were done however. “If I show you everything, how will illusionists make their money?”

The fuss stopped soon after and Thea was pleased, not relishing being the centre of attention
for too long.

Thea made her way around the room with her father and was surprised to realise that Mrs Cole was being far more civil this evening, and she wondered what had brought about that change. Perhaps she was just grateful that the psychic had been proved fraudulent after all, being titillated by ghost stories is fun but actually coming face to face with one (even an imagined one) was a lot less enjoyable.

When dinner was called, Thea hesitated so that she and her father were the last to leave the room.

“Will Master Cole be joining us?” she asked
the butler.

“No, Ma’am, not this evening. He sends his regrets.”

“Is he all right?”

“I cannot say; his valet relayed the instruction that Master Cole wished to be left alone this evening
, so I have not checked on him.”

Thea bit her lower lip, her indecision evident.

“It’s nothing personal, sometimes people need to be alone, even from those who they care about,” her father said, gently pulling her onwards. “Check on him after dinner but if he asks to be left alone, respect his wishes.”

She nodded her agreement, although she was clearly distracted during
most of the dinner. Rather than being seated by the head of the table, where Cole had sat in his father’s absence, she found herself seated with the young ladies and gentlemen this evening, and she did her best to block their inane chatter out and listen to the conversations at the other end of the table.

“After dinner, M
adam Davina is going to read our tarot cards for us,” Mrs Cole announced to everyone but she looked to Thea. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“I thought we had
proven her a fraud? Since Mr Platt hasn’t joined us for dinner, I assumed she would have gone by now.”

“Yes, but this is just for pleasure
, Lady Athena. She is leaving tomorrow so we may as well be entertained by her while we can. Real or not, she is very diverting.

“
Say you’ll come,” Master Peter pleaded. “It will be great fun.”

“And we need you to show us how she does
her tricks,” Mrs Dale added.

“Thank you but n
o, I really must check on Cole, he’s frightfully upset at the moment. Perhaps another time.”

“But how are we going to know how she tricks us?”
Lady Flora asked. “Oh please, you must come.”

“Thank you but no,”
Thea said with finality.

“She was only asking,” Mrs Cole sniffed.

“And I was only declining.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“Do you like the theatre, Lady Thea?” Lady Emily asked.

“It depends on the play and the skill of the actors. Overall, I prefer the ballet.”

“Really? Why?” Miss Eliza more demanded than asked.

“Probably because I admire the grace of ballet dancers.”

Eliza’s smile was a little snide. “We often envy qualities in others that we ourselves do not possess.”

“You are quite correct,” Thea said. “I am not particularly graceful.”

“How are you at acting?” Emily asked.

“Probably quite poor, why?”

“We had to do something to pass the time so we have been rehearsing an abridged version of Romeo and Juliet. We will be performing it tomorrow evening, after dinner, but we don’t have anyone to play Rosaline. Flora is playing Lady Montague and Rosaline, but it would be wonderful if we could have another woman to call upon.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I fear I would not be a beneficial addition to the performance, especially with so little rehearsal time.” In truth, she could think of little that she would enjoy less than performing.

“I told you,” Eliza said with some glee.

Thea ignored her. “Who is playing the lead roles?”

“Emily and Master Reynolds,” Flora answered. “They’re so good in it, and the Reynolds will be joining us for dinner tomorrow.”

“If you’re worried about learning you
r lines, I’m sure we could affix them to a prop for you,” Eliza said.

“A kind offer, but
I already know Romeo and Juliet,” Thea smiled.

“By heart?” Flora asked.

“Of course.”

“So you
have
performed it before?” Lady Eleanor Grady wanted to know. At sixteen she was the youngest lady in the group.

“No, I read it once.”

Eliza laughed. “And you think that makes you an expert?”

“Not at all. While I appreciate Shakesp
eare’s works, Romeo and Juliet is one of my least favourite plays. In fact, I have never even seen it performed; I merely said that I had memorised it.”

“After one reading? I think not.”

Eliza’s gloating attitude was beginning to irk Thea.

“If you would care to name an act and scene, I shall prove it. Any of his works, for that matter.”

Eliza’s eyes narrowed. “Act four, Benvolio’s first lines.”

“‘
The date is out of such prolixity: We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper; nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke…
’.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Eliza huffed.

“Act two, scene two, line 80?” Flora challenged.

“
‘
By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; he lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.
’”

No one spoke for a moment.

“Well?” Eliza demanded of Flora.

“I don’t know, I just plucked the number out of thin air.”

“I think she’s right,” Emily said. “That’s Romeo’s line but he says it in reply to me, and I think my line is 79.”

“‘
By whose direction found'st thou out this place?
’.” Thea added.

“Why don’t you like the play?” Eleanor asked.

‘Oh, so many reason’s,’
she thought. She realised however, that these people, the young ones among them at least, obviously thought the play romantic so rather than point out what she viewed as the idiocy of Romeo and Juliet, she opted for a safer flaw.

“It’s unrealistic. There is no potion that can mimic death, which takes the play out of the realm of fact and into fantasy.”

“But it’s still good fun,” Flora added.

“I’m sure it is, it’s simply not to my personal taste.” Her father gave her a hard look. “But I
look forward to your performance,” she added. She anticipated wincing through an amateur production of a play she disliked, but she needn’t add that detail.

Finally the dinner was over and
Thea excused herself.

Cole’s visit with his father earlier had a certain finality about it that had dulled his mood considerably. Although drowsy, his father had roused himself enough to say a few words to Cole and his sisters, all words of praise, which was unusual.

He had told Marie that she was sweetness itself, then he had told Sylvia that she was a clever girl and must be good. Sylvia seemed to have more understanding of what was happening than her sister but he knew that death was a concept that was foreign to young children and it was hard for them to grasp the implications of it.

Finally, he had made Cole promise to look after them and protect them. He had of course assured his father that he would; even if he didn’t like their mother, they were his kin.

Cole wanted to believe it was the drugs making his father uncharacteristically kind, but he couldn’t escape the thought that his father knew the end was nigh and was setting things in order.

Knowing that he was in no mood for a dinner party and in truth, was beginning to tire of their
guests, he chose to remain in his rooms. He would have a simple, cold supper sent up if he regained his appetite but for the moment, he was content to sip the port he had asked to be sent up.

Thea would come and find him eventually, he was sure. What he was not sure of, was her reaction.
He didn’t want to hear hollow platitudes and false reassurances. In truth, he didn’t know what he wanted, only what he didn’t.

When her knock came, he called for her to enter and from the doorway, she looked around his living room, taking
in the scene.

“He is not improved then?” she asked as she approached, kneeling beside his chair and taking his hand.

“No, although he was lucid for a few minutes. I think he was trying to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s hardly your fault.”

“I’m still sorry.”

He gave her a smile, although it was rather weak.

“Will you bring your port through to our living room?” she asked.

“Thank you, but I want to be alone. I wouldn’t be good company at the moment.”

“I expect nothing from you but your presence,” she assured him. “I only want to go next door because of the promise I made father, and if he is there also, we will not cause gossip.”

“Thea-”

“Please, Cole. He will read, as will I. No one will disturb you, I just don’t want you to be alone.”

He doubted if that was true; in his experience, people always tried to cajole the sad into happiness but she looked so eager that he found it hard to deny her.

“My dress…” he had removed his cravat and collar, his waistcoat was unbuttoned, as were the top two buttons of his shirt.

“Is fine,” she assured him. “Besides, you owe me a dare, do you not? I can ask anything of yo
u and you are honour bound to do it.”

He didn’t have the spirit to continue arguing.
“As you wish.”

She picked
up his bottle of port and her other hand took his, leaving him only his glass to bring.

In their sitting room, she sat him on one sofa then went to retrieve a book from the sideboard.

“Where is your father?”

“He’s changing into his night clothes, which I am about to do as well
, so that Evans can take the rest of the night off. I won’t be long.”

Cole didn’t mind, this had
been his mother’s sitting room, and he had many fond memories in here. Oddly however, he felt both better being here, somewhere he had loved being, and worse, because his mother was no longer here to comfort him.

Copley entered and nodded to him.

“Good evening, Sir.”

“No, no formality tonight. You are among family, Cole.
Besides,” he gesture to his nightgown and dressing gown, offering a wry smile. “Formality feels a little ridiculous in this get up.”

Cole smiled. He thought that he would like becoming part of this family.

“Would you like a glass of port?” Cole offered.

“Thank you, but I usually have something a little stronger before bed.” He poured himself a brandy from the decanters, then sat
in an armchair by the fireplace, which was angled slightly away from the sofas.

He picked up a book that was resting on his side table and opened it.

Thea returned quicker than he expected, dressed in a very chaste night gown, buttoned up to the neck and so long she had to hold the skirt up as she walked. Over that, she wore a floor length dressing gown.

Copley nodded to her as she entered, so she had parental approval, no matter how unusual and scandalous this arrangement. Thea placed a hair brush on the table beside her then sat down. Reaching over to him, she grasped his shoulders and angled him away, which confused him, until she tried to pull him backwards.

“Thea-”

“
Ssh,” she said, continuing to apply gentle pressure.

He leaned back and
found that his head came to rest in her lap. Looking up at her gave him a quite shocking (but very pleasing) view, so he turned his head to the side slightly. One hand came to rest across his shoulders, while the other began combing through his hair.

Despite the odd and to be frank, scandalous position he was in, he s
lowly begun to relax; the gentle, almost hypnotic movement of her fingers through his hair, soothing him.

He didn’t know how lo
ng they had been sitting there but eventually she removed her right hand from his shoulder, although her left remained in his hair. He twisted slightly to see what she was doing, and she smiled, showing him the pins she had removed from her hair. He took them from her and they began a pattern, she removing each pin and handing it to him, until finally her hair fell from the bun and she ran her hands through it a few times, making it cascade over her shoulders.

“Well, I think I shall turn in,” Copley said, getting to his feet. “Please feel free to remain for as long as you want, Cole, although I will be leaving my door ajar.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Good
night, Thea.”

“Good
night, Papa.”

Cole sat up as Copley entered his bedroom.

“You don’t have to go,” Thea assured him. “I don’t think you should be own your own right now and Papa’s fine with it, as long as we remain in the living room.”

“Thank you but I wasn’t
actually going anywhere.” He reached over her, pausing with his lips millimetres from hers.

He heard her breath hitch but given how tumultuous his mood was at the moment, he daren’t kiss her. Instead he placed her clips on the side table and retrieved her hair brush.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he moved away, reaching for the brush he held.

“I’m returning the favour,” he told her, holding the brush out of her reach. “A hundred strokes, you said?”

“Yes but-”

“But nothing. Turn around, darling.”

“Are you sure?”

“You have taken wonderful care of me and it would
make me very happy to take care of you. Now, turn around.”

Hesitantly, she did so, and he fanned her hair out with his hands. A gentleman rarely got to see a lady’s hair down (his sisters didn’t count) so this was a rare pleasure
. Before she could try and stop him again, he took the brush and began to pull it through her silken locks.

After a dozen or so strokes, her head began to lull slightly, then she began to give some breathy sighs. He had a feeling that her eyes were closed and he smiled as he imagined the look of bliss on her face.

“How many is that?” she asked in a drowsy voice.

“I haven’t been counting. Sorry.”

“No, no, I usually count but for some reason, I’m a little distracted.” She turned slightly and gave him a wry smile, which he returned.

“I can keep going,” he assured her.

“It’s late, why don’t we settle down and try to rest.”

“Your father won’t mind if I stay here?”

“He didn’t before.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Would you like to change?”

He stood and removed his waistcoat. “I think that will do.”

She patted her lap. “Then by all means, come rest your weary head, Sir.”

He smiled. “Will you be comfortable?”

“You were, so I’m sure I will be too. Come on.”

He settled against her, this time, his head resting on her stomach. Her fingers again ran through his hair and to his surprise, he soon found himself drifting off to sleep.

***

“Cole? Cole!”

He opened his eyes to see Thea staring down at him.

“I think someone’s knocking on your door, and they’re being
fairly insistent about it.”

He listened and as she said, could hear a muffled knocking.
There was light coming in the windows but the sun was obviously not very high yet.

“I’ll find out what they want.” He got to his feet and pulled his waistcoat back on. “You’d best go into the bedroom, in case anyone catches a glimpse of you.”

“Yes, of course.”

Onc
e her door was closed, he went into the hall to see the butler outside his door.

“Black, I must have dozed off while talking with Lord Copley last night. Is something wrong?”

The look on the butler’s face told him that the news was grave indeed, but he needed to hear the words none the less.

“I’m sorry to have to be the bearer of bad news, but the nurse just informed me that your father passed in the night. My condolences, Sir.”

“Thank you.”

Thea’s bedroom door opened and she came into the hallway.

“I thought I heard voices.” She must have noticed their grave expressions although like him, she surely already knew the news. “Is something wrong?”

“My father has… passed, Lady Thea.”

“Oh,” she closed the space between them and only a cough from Black stopped her throwing her arms around him. Instead she reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was inevitable,” he told her, although that actually did little to lessen the pain.

“Let me come with you.”

Black coughed discreetly again. “Perhaps the young lady would like to dress first.”

“It’s seven o’clock in a house that doesn’t rise before ten, I think my attire is perfectly suitable to visit a dead man. Oh!” she looked to Cole, shocked at her own insensitivity.

“You speak the truth and yes, your attire is fine. I would appreciate your company, if you are up to it.”

“Death is the domain of women, is it not?”

“Indeed.” He turned to Bla
ck. “Thank you for informing us. Please send someone for the doctor and have Lord Copley’s valet informed of events, so he can tell his master when he awakes.”

“Of course, Sir.” He bowed and left.

With a heavy sigh, Cole led Thea to his father’s room.

***

Patrick ‘Beau’ Cole’s room faced west, so was darker than Thea’s had been, but there was enough light to see by without needing candles.

He was lying on his back, the covers pulled up to his chest, his arms resting either side of him, over the covers. Clearly he had been posed.
The nurse was still sitting vigil by the bedside, as someone would have to be until the funeral.

It
occurred to her that it was odd that women prepared the body and often sat with the deceased, yet were deemed too delicate to attend funerals.

“Mrs
Lawes,” Cole nodded to the nurse, who had risen when they entered.

“Sir. Mr Cole passed peacefully in the night. He did not suffer.”

“Thank you,” Cole said,

Thea
wasn’t sure if she believed the nurse. Even if his father had died a horrendous death, she would likely have said the same.

“I’ll give you a few moments.”
Mrs Lawes said. “Just ring the bell when you’re ready.” She left the room.

Cole dropped her hand an
d stepped up to the bed.

“He would have liked you,” Cole said. “If you had met him before his illness, I mean; he always liked strong women.”

If that was true, Thea wondered what it was about Selena that had attracted him to her.

Cole sat on the si
de of the bed and gazed at his father’s face.

She wasn’t sure what drew her forward, but she found herself approaching the bed. She didn’t usually feel odd around dead people, at least, not since her anatomy lessons. She felt very strange now however.

“He looks peaceful, doesn’t he?” Cole asked.

“He does.”

She mirrored Cole and sat on the bed. He did look at peace, she thought. She took his hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to know you,” she told the dead man.