The Arnifour Affair (9 page)

CHAPTER 13

M
y failure to gain much information about Mademoiselle Rendell was tempered by the fact that Colin had won not only the wrestling tournament for his age group, but also the exhibition round against a man nearly fifteen years his junior. He gave me the glowing details before finally settling in and agreeing that the Slavic man was likely to prove a man of interest. Thereafter he left me on my own for the remainder of the evening while he retreated to the bath.

We had little interaction the next day as well and I knew he had withdrawn into his thoughts in an effort to ferret out the next best step. I'd suggested that perhaps I should try to find the Slavic man, but he'd dismissed the idea for the moment, and so it was that we were in our study late that afternoon; me reading while Colin paced relentlessly, incessantly disassembling and reassembling his new Nagant revolver, when there came a sudden and frantic pounding at our door. Colin spun away from the fireplace so quickly that the cylinder of the Nagant he'd been fussing over was launched from his hand in great cartwheels before coming to land across the room.

“Damn . . . ,” he cursed as he hurried after it. “If that got bent . . . ,” he threatened rhetorically. I watched him give it a quick inspection as he went to the window and peered outside. “It's the Arnifours' buckboard,” he announced. “Has to be one of the Heffernans. Nathaniel most likely. Victor would never have the audacity to pound on anyone's door like that.”

“I wonder why he's here?”

“We shall know soon enough,” he said as he wrapped the pieces of the revolver into his handkerchief and laid them on the mantel.

The sound of two sets of shoes mounting the stairs drifted up as Colin took his seat next to me. A moment later he was proven correct when Mrs. Behmoth ushered Nathaniel Heffernan into the room.

“Nathaniel 'efferead ta see ya.”

“Nan . . . ,”
he corrected sourly. “Heffer
nan
.”

“If ya like.” She shrugged and made her exit.

“I take it,” Colin stood up, “that you bring news?”

“I do.” He stared at Colin blandly and said, “It's Miss Elsbeth.” And at once I feared the worst. “They're saying she's begun ta come round.” There was little inflection in his voice.

“Extraordinary!” Colin popped out of his chair. “You must be anxious to get back and see how she's doing.”

Nathaniel did not answer at once, and I wondered if he was trying to gauge whether there was any accusation in Colin's words. “Is there any message ya want me ta take back?” he finally said.

“No message . . .” Colin slid a glance to me and then looked back at Nathaniel. “What I'd really like you to take back is us.” He didn't even wait for a response before he bolted down the hallway toward our bedroom.

“What?”

“We're going with you, boy,” he called back. “Make yourself comfortable while we put a few things together, because this time we'll be staying. We shan't be but a minute or two.”

“You will excuse me.” I stood up and gave what I feared was a pained smile, as surprised as our guest by this unexpected turn of events.

I hurried to the bedroom and found Colin rooting through the top drawer of the dresser. “Prepare to spend a night or two,” he said as he flung undergarments onto the bed. “If she's coming around I'll not come back until we've had the chance to speak with her. I don't trust that house of rogues.”

“House of rogues?!” I chuckled as I pulled a valise from under the bed. “Now you sound like Mrs. Behmoth.”

“You're forgetting that someone there would almost certainly prefer to see her dead, and at this point it's rather impossible to tell who might be her friend and who her foe.” He tossed me an arch look as he withdrew a small double-barreled derringer from the dresser.

“You're bringing a gun?”

“I'd bring three if I could get you to carry one.”

I screwed up my face, the memory of once having had a derringer prodded against my ribs during a soured opium transaction causing me to shiver. Even that had not led me to forsake the drug, which is why I suppose the memory retains its ability to provoke such a reaction from me. “Don't you think you're overreacting?” I tried my best to sound glib. “It's the estate of nobles. They're not all beyond redemption.”

“And are you prepared to decide who is and who is not?” He eyed me as he stuffed the little gun into his boot. “Who is it you find trustworthy?”

“What about Lady Arnifour? She hired us after all.”

He waved a dismissive hand as he went over to the holster hanging from the headboard on his side of the bed. “I'd bet she hasn't given a whit about her husband since she conceived their daughter, and they were both probably well plied with alcohol at the time. The only person our dear patroness seems to even remotely care about is Victor Heffernan, and even that impression is probably hysterically generous.”

“Well, you have to admit that he seems kind and loyal.”

“A dog is kind and loyal,” he grunted. He pulled a Colt revolver from the holster and stuffed it into his waistband, yanking his overcoat closed atop it. “Of course her husband was clearly a scurrilous man who had more dalliances with other women than his own wife. But then that is what those chaps do.”

“Your father didn't.”

He leveled a frown on me. “The Pendragons are a cut above. Besides, my mother died too young. He didn't have the chance. Are you ready?” He headed for the door.

“Ready?! I've hardly begun. And all you've done is throw a few things on the bed and litter yourself with guns. I'd say you're not ready, either.”

He shrugged. “I've got what I want. Throw in whatever else you think I might need.”

“Fine.”

I heard him beckon from the front of the flat as I stuffed the last few things into the valise and tucked it under my arm. “On my way!”

It would be nice to come back to this room and have the worst of this case behind us or even solved. My eyes raked over Colin's empty holster and I felt that familiar knot clutch at my stomach. How I hoped we would return with his guns unneeded. I turned down the lamp on the dresser and headed out.

CHAPTER 14

T
he evening was cold enough to make the ride in the open buckboard uncomfortable. Even so, Colin appeared oblivious to the wind's chilling fingers as they sliced across the exposed flesh of his face. The fire in his eyes seemed to be heating the whole of his body so that he wasn't even bothering with the scarf Mrs. Behmoth had pressed on him on our way out. In contrast, I was well wrapped in mine and noticed Nathaniel repeatedly yanking his collar closed. Given the potential turn in this case there was little wonder Colin felt so impervious.

As we pulled through the gates, catching a glimpse of the house on the ridge ahead, I was struck by how different everything looked under the cloak of night. The trees appeared menacing as they bent overhead like a sepulchral army of skeletal soldiers, their great withered arms only fleetingly allowing a sliver of moon to peek through. Then, quite suddenly, they gave way to a field of tall grass. Yet even that otherwise sanguine field stretched far off into a forbidding, black oblivion on either side of the driveway even as it seemed to threaten to press in on the house at any moment. I forced my attentions to the house and found that even
it
could not manage to suffuse any aura of warmth or invitation. With its darkened wings like atrophied limbs it looked like life had long ago vacated its vast corridors. Only its center section glowed with any light at all, and that sporadically, leaving the impression that those who remained here were slowly losing their battle against the shadows closing in around them.

Nathaniel guided the buckboard to a halt at the center of the crescent drive and Colin immediately leapt out and attacked the stone steps two at a time, seizing the door knocker with his usual relish. He was clearly not suffering any trepidation.

“Well, bless our unholy rolling empire.” Eldon Arnifour stood at the threshold with a dopey grin and a tumbler. “Just look at what the night creatures have heaved onto our doorstep.”

“Mr. Pendragon!” Lady Arnifour's voice cut in from somewhere behind her well-oiled son. “I've been praying you would come soon. Go on, Eldon, make room for our guests, for pity's sake.”

Eldon stiffened at the sound of her voice, his grin transforming into something closer to a grimace. Nevertheless, he followed his mother's command and stepped aside, bowing and sweeping an arm across his body with all the formality one might use to usher a revered guest into an otherwise humble dwelling.

“I'm sorry it took us as long as it did,” Colin said, entering without so much as the flick of an eyebrow toward Eldon. “It is a miracle indeed that your niece is showing signs of recuperation. We may soon have a quick end to this most horrendous crime.”

“I'll drink to that.” Eldon smirked. “Care to join me?”

“That will be all!”
Lady Arnifour snapped as she descended the stairs in the foyer.

He tossed her a withering glare. “Just trying to be charitable.”

“You've been charitable enough with yourself all afternoon. I would say you've had enough for one night.”

“Is the thought of your cousin awakening driving you to drink?” Colin asked with a feinted grin.

“Oh, Mr. Pendragon, your inference cuts me to the bone.”

“I meant to infer nothing.”

“I'm afraid my son needs no particular reason to overindulge.”

“Spoken like the driving force she is.”

“That's quite enough.” She turned on her son. “I would suggest you retire for the night.”

Eldon's face pinched into a contemptuous scowl. “Fine.” He turned and headed for the study. “I'll do that just as soon as I've had a nightcap . . . or two. . . .” He paused in the doorway and glanced back. “Assuming such a repast does not make me a suspect for murder.” And with that he slammed the study's door so fiercely that Lady Arnifour winced as though her body had absorbed the injustice accorded the doorjamb.

“Some people really shouldn't drink,” Colin muttered.

I stopped myself from chuckling and, when I noticed Lady Arnifour's shoulders gently rise and fall with a wearied sigh, knew it was time to focus on the business at hand. “How long ago did you notice Elsbeth beginning to come round?” I asked her.

“A couple of hours.” She turned abruptly and headed back to the marble staircase. “The man on duty heard groaning and ran to get Mrs. O'Keefe. She was the first one to check on her.”

“Has she opened her eyes?”

“No.” She led us up the sweeping stairway. “The poor dear must be in terrible pain. I sent Mr. Heffernan to notify the doctor and he sent him back with an elixir of Belladonna to ensure she sleeps through the night. He's promised to come first thing in the morning.”

“Have you given her any?” Colin asked.

“We haven't needed to.”

“Good. There's little chance she'll gain consciousness with a bellyful of
that
in her. I'm anxious to speak with her before your doctor sends her into any sort of medicated slumber.”

“But she mustn't be allowed to suffer,” I reminded.

“Of course not.” He shot me a sideways glance that encouraged me to contain myself. “Her well-being is paramount, which is why we mustn't forget that she alone holds the key to what happened at that barn, so until she's able to speak with us, her life remains in grave danger.”

“It's all too horrible.” Lady Arnifour sagged. “How someone could want to cause that poor girl harm.”

“Not just harm,” Colin corrected. “It's about self-preservation now, which can be a most powerful inducement.”

“Well, there's no one in this household who would wish such a thing.”

“No? . . .” Colin said that single word in such a pointed way that Lady Arnifour missed the top step and lurched precariously forward before he stabbed an arm out and steadied her. She took a moment to collect herself, but none of us made any further comment.

The man posted outside Elsbeth's door barely glanced at us from his tipped-back chair, head thrown back, legs akimbo, arms folded neatly across his chest. He wasn't asleep—yet—but it was easy to see it would only be a matter of time. As soon as everyone in the house settled in for the night, he could almost certainly be counted on to join the ranks of the dreaming. Another fine example of Inspector Varcoe's crack staff.

Lady Arnifour swept past him as dismissively as he deserved, most likely having arrived at the same conclusion. Yet he could still be counted a deterrent just by virtue of being there, for it was less likely anyone would try to strike against Elsbeth with him planted outside her door, whether fully awake or not.

The three of us crept into the room as though we might disturb her slumber. Mrs. O'Keefe was seated by the bed crocheting what looked to be a large coverlet. It billowed across her lap and cascaded to the floor in a tumult that surrounded her for three feet around. She looked as if she were on the verge of cocooning herself inside its very profusion and I wondered if that might not be part of what she meant to do.

“Anything?” Lady Arnifour whispered as we pressed near the bed.

“No, ma'am.” She immediately began gathering the blanket in great folds, tossing it over one arm with the practiced hand of someone who has done it many times before. “She moans and flinches every now and then, but that's all.”

“Thank you.”

“You needn't thank me, ma'am. You know how I feel about Miss Elsbeth.” She aimed her sentence at Colin and me, and I thought her sentiment heavy-handed. Just who was she trying to convince? She moved across the room, drawing the train of knitting as she went, and gently pulled the door shut behind her. It was the only delicate thing I would ever see her do.

“How do you think she looks?” Lady Arnifour cast an anxious glance at me, remembering, I was sure, Colin's reference about my passing knowledge of medicine. I thought it a good thing she didn't know it was actually nothing more than survival skills garnered while in the East End. Nevertheless, I leaned in close to Elsbeth to get a better look. There seemed little change in the few days since we'd last seen her. The swelling of her face had only marginally receded and the bruises around her eyes and cheeks had deepened to the blue-black of thunderheads from an impending storm. There was some improvement in her breathing, however. It was less labored and no longer contained the rattle that so often signals the last struggles of a soul to tear itself free of its body.

“I do believe she is a bit better,” I announced, though I did not dare go further. I reached out and touched her forehead, and was stunned to find her exceedingly hot. I knew it to be the sign of a battle against infection raging within, but before I could reach for the basin of water at her bedside she flinched slightly and muttered something as thin as her breath. It was all Colin needed. He wrenched me aside and bent so far over her that his ear nearly grazed her lips.

“What . . .” It was Lady Arnifour's turn to plow through me. “Can you make out what she's saying?”

Colin's brow furrowed as he patiently hovered a hair's breadth above her, but there was nothing else. I suspected her sudden outburst had been due more to the feeling of my cool hand on her burning face than any desire to reveal information, but decided to keep my peace.

“No,” he lamented as he stood up. “But I can assure you that we shall be spending the night here tonight and the next one after that if need be. We will protect this young woman as if she were our own, and should she truly awaken at any time, you will be the first person we send for.” His brow furrowed as he turned to look at Lady Arnifour. “I trust my determination to stay at her bedside will not in any way impugn your finer sensibilities.”

Lady Arnifour's hand fluttered up to her neck. “Of course not . . . whatever you think best, Mr. Pendragon. The room next door is empty and I shall have Mrs. O'Keefe prepare it at once in case either of you should require some rest. I'm sure you will find it suitable.”

“You are most thoughtful.” He smiled. “And let us hope we will have the answers we seek by morning.”

“For the sake of your niece,” I hastily added.

“That would be such a blessing.” She sighed heavily and I knew she held little hope. “Very well then,” she said after a moment. “I shall leave you be.”

As soon as she closed the door again I turned to Colin. “I really don't think she's going to be waking up and telling us any stories tonight.”

He yawned as he pulled Mrs. O'Keefe's chair closer to the bed. “I'm sure you're right, but I don't mind if the rest of the household thinks it possible.”

“One thing we have to do is get her fever down. Dunk your handkerchief in the basin of water and apply it to her forehead. As soon as it becomes warm rinse it out and do it again. That alone should help her to feel better.”

“Then perhaps she will be able to surprise us tonight.”

“I hope so.” I stifled a yawn. “Do you really think Lady Arnifour knows who did this?”

He glanced at me. “She may not have proof,” he said, his sapphire eyes crackling with the surety of his words, “but I'm certain she's suspicious of someone. It's the only reason she's hired us with such conviction to prove the innocence of her dear Victor. If she had any doubts, if she wondered at all, we wouldn't be here now.”

“It's all very disturbing, made ever more so by the fact that we're here to protect Elsbeth.”

He nodded. “We are here to protect her as we tighten the noose. With a little bit of well-placed pressure we shall see who cracks about the seams first.”

“You mean to incite the perpetrator to action again, don't you?” He patted his waistband where his revolver was hidden. “I'm prepared for whatever may come.”

“I hope so. We both know that desperation can be a tragic motivator.”

“That it can,” he said as he unbuttoned his jacket. “Now go get some sleep so you can spell me in a few hours.”

I yawned again and went back to the hallway to find the room we'd been promised, and as I passed Inspector Varcoe's nameless sentry I was incensed to find him with his head lolled fully back, a tiny thread of drool spinning down from one corner of his slackened jaw. He looked as comatose as Elsbeth, so I nicked the side of his chair as I strode past. His head snapped forward and he bolted up with a snort, batting his eyes furiously to chase the tendrils of sleep away. He glanced at me as he dragged a sleeve across his wet chin.

“Sorry,” I muttered without a shred of regret.

He shrugged me off with a scowl, but at least Colin's first line of defense was back in operation.

I headed down the hall and nearly collided with Mrs. O'Keefe as she came barreling out of the next room. She was cradling a wad of linens under one arm and nursing an expression of marked exasperation. “Oh,” she grumbled as she pulled up short. “That room is ready for the two of you.”

“Thank you.”

She stared at me but said nothing more before turning and moving down the hall in the opposite direction.

“She's a bloody sow, that one,” a male voice piped up behind me, and for a moment I thought it was the sentry outside Elsbeth's door. As I turned, Eldon stepped out from the shadows, a sneer alight on his face. “Can I tempt you with a nightcap?”

My instincts demanded I give a polite refusal, yet curiosity overruled my brain as I considered that I just might be able to learn something useful. Eldon was the only one in the household whom we hadn't had a chance to speak with alone. I was tempted by the prospect of being able to coax some information from him. I held my tongue and allowed him to lead me back down to the library.