The Lovegrove Hermit (12 page)

The night was thundery again. I lay in bed a long time, unable to sleep, seeing the room illuminated by sudden flashes of lightning and counting the seconds to the next rumble of thunder, which came nearer and nearer. There were other noises too; creaking floorboards, footsteps, low voices and the opening and closing of doors, as though the whole house was restless and all its occupants on the move.

The storm broke with great ferocity but gradually ran its course and finally rolled away, leaving behind heavy,
drumming
rain. I slept at last, shallowly and fitfully, only to be woken by another sound. At first I thought the storm had returned but the noise that woke me was not like thunder – more like a soft, heavy thudding within the house. I heard doors opening, voices calling and then a shrill scream.

Hastily I jumped out of bed, snatched up my dressing gown and ran to the door. I found Sophie standing in the passage outside.

‘What was it, Aunt Charlotte? There was the strangest sound, like something heavy tumbling – as though someone had thrown a sack of potatoes downstairs.’ She was closer to the truth than either of us imagined.

The main staircase at Lovegrove was of oak, well polished and uncarpeted. The hall below was paved with ancient flagstones. Most of the house’s occupants had been raised from their sleep and we gathered on landing and stairs in a variety of dressing gowns and shawls. Those who had lighted candles lent the flames to those who had not and a sinister, flickering glow illuminated the scene.

At the foot of the stairs, lying on the flagstones in a
curiously
twisted position was a body in a white nightgown. For a few seconds I could scarcely think who it might be. Then I saw the mane of dark hair, the small bare feet, the plump arms with dimpled elbows. It was Louisa Thorpe. Lady Denby was leaning over her, trying to rouse her.

‘Louisa – wake up, dear. Speak to me. Bring water, someone, and sal volatile. She’s quite unconscious. Brandy too – and hurry!’

My brother George had gone down to join her and more candles were brought from adjoining rooms. Despite his occasional foolishness he was not lacking in acumen and he had the merit of keeping his head in a crisis.

‘She’s not unconscious, she’s dead,’ he said gravely. ‘There’s a nasty wound on her head and blood on the floor. She must have hit the stone with some force.’ He bent and felt her pulse. ‘It could be she broke her neck in the fall,’ he added. ‘You’d better send for your doctor to certify the cause of death.’

‘She can’t be dead!’ cried Lady Denby. ‘She
can’t
be! I’m sure she’ll revive if we apply a few appropriate remedies. And Louisa, don’t lie there like that. What were you doing, wandering about in the middle of the night?’

‘I expect she was disturbed by the storm,’ said George.
‘Perhaps she thought she heard a strange noise and came to the top of the stairs to see and missed her footing on the half-landing.’

I thought it was odd she hadn’t put on a dressing gown or at least thrown a shawl round her shoulders but it was a warm night and perhaps she had amorous intentions. I could imagine her slipping through George’s door: ‘Oh, Mr Tyler, I am so frightened – I have always been terrified of thunderstorms.’ But there were two things wrong with this theory: there would be no need for her to go downstairs and the storm was over when she fell.

Lady Denby insisted on Louisa being carried to her room and placed on her bed. The room was near the top of the stairs and next but one to mine. The door stood open and I went in and found the chamber candlestick unlit by her bed so I used my own candle to light it. A tinderbox lay beside it – why hadn’t she used it? Perhaps there had been no time, but it was hardly surprising she had slipped in the darkness.

Another thing I noticed: Louisa Thorpe had been sleeping in a double bed with two pillows and a bolster. One of the pillows was covered by a linen case with a heavy lace border; the other pillowcase was missing.

It seemed obvious to me from the lolling head of the dead woman that she had indeed broken her neck, though there was also a patch of bloody, matted hair on her head that showed the site of a violent blow. Oddly enough I was not nearly so upset by Louisa Thorpe’s demise as I had been by the death of the hermit. Perhaps it was because I was surrounded by other people and my brother’s calmness was reassuring: also – I had to admit it – because I disliked the woman so much.

Lady Denby despatched a manservant to fetch Dr Stringer and proceeded to try all the usual methods of
reviving
an unconscious person. I fetched Mrs Thorpe’s mirror from her dressing table and held it to her nose and mouth.

‘Look,’ I said, ‘it’s quite clear.’

‘Let me see,’ said Lady Denby, holding it so close that it was immediately clouded by her own breath.

‘Nonsense – she’s still alive!’

There followed a series of ridiculous attempts to restore Louisa Thorpe to life. Much as I had disliked the woman I did not like to see her subjected to these futile efforts; far better to cover her with a sheet and await the doctor. But Lady Denby had to have her way. She snatched a feather from one of Louisa’s bonnets and set fire to it, hoping the fumes wafted past her friend’s nose might rouse her. She chafed her hands, bathed her brow with cold water, tried to force brandy between her lips, called for mustard poultices which were not forthcoming and finally, exhausted by her efforts and with hopes at last extinguished, she collapsed sobbing at the foot of the bed.

‘Did anyone suffer so many tragedies in so short a space?’ she wailed. ‘First the hermit, then Sir Ralph, then Rowland, now Louisa – all gone!’

‘I’m not gone,’ said a voice from the doorway.

‘Oh, Ralphy, I’m so desolate!’ she cried, rushing to enfold him in a smothering embrace.

‘Poor Melly, you’ve had a terrible time,’ he said, patting her soothingly.

She recovered a little and at once took charge of his welfare. ‘You ought not to be out of bed, Ralphy – go back to it at once.’

‘I’m all right, just a little weak and shaky and that’s due to being bled and not having enough to eat. I take it Louisa fell downstairs. What was she doing in the middle of the night?’

‘Just what we were all wondering,’ said George. ‘Where was she going? What had she heard?’

Sir Ralph was persuaded to return to bed but the rest of us found it impossible despite the fact that it was after three in the morning. I suggested to Sophie that she really ought to go and lie down but she declared she could not rest.

‘I’m wide awake now. I can’t possibly sleep again, there’s too much going on.’

Elinor disappeared, however. She had not said a word.

Dr Stringer arrived at last looking decidedly weary and
ill-tempered
. He confirmed what we already knew – that Mrs Thorpe had broken her neck and had a severe contusion on the side of her head.

‘Probably some more broken bones, I shouldn’t wonder, but I can’t say more until I have a proper look in daylight. You’d better get Colonel Hartley over here tomorrow and he’ll inform the coroner.’

‘Not another post-mortem and inquest?’ cried Lady Denby. ‘Oh, the shame and horror! It’s more than I can bear! And what about her family? If only Frank hadn’t gone away! Louisa’s parents are dead but I suppose I could contact her eldest sister. The one who married a clergyman. That’s Mrs Lawrence, Frank’s mother. She must be told. I think Louisa had her address written somewhere – she was writing her a letter the other day. What a dreadful shock for the poor woman – not that I know much about her. They were all
girls in that family and she was the eldest and Louisa the youngest so they were never really close. But at times like these, blood is thicker than water.’

‘You don’t know where the nephew is?’ asked the doctor.

‘No, he went up to London. He’ll be very upset – he was very attached to his aunt – more so than to his mother.’

As it was now nearly four in the morning, Dr Stringer was asked to spend the rest of the night in the house as it was hardly worth his making the journey home. We all repaired to our rooms to await the morning. A servant was despatched before breakfast to inform Colonel Hartley of the night’s tragedy and to ask him to come over as soon as possible.

We were eating breakfast when Colonel Hartley arrived. At least, the Tyler family ate breakfast; our hosts both had trays taken up to their rooms. I at once ran out into the hall to meet our visitor, followed by my brother.

‘I’m thinking of renting a room here,’ smiled the Colonel, ‘and you must forgive me for appearing flippant but I have never before encountered such a series of events. If it weren’t so tragic it would be almost comical. But first, I’d like to talk to you and hear what you experienced last night. Then I’ll have a word with Dr Stringer and view the remains. Where did the accident take place?’ Then he added,
speaking
to me in an undertone, ‘Assuming it
was
an accident.’

We showed him exactly where Mrs Thorpe was found. I provided him with a sketch I had made before breakfast showing the position of the body. Lady Denby suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs striking a dramatic attitude with the back of her right hand pressed to her forehead and the left clutching her heart.

‘Dear Colonel Hartley, I have supped full of horrors! That you should be called on yet again to investigate the dreadful events at this unhappy house! It is beyond all endurance!’

‘If you’d please come down, ma’am, perhaps you can tell me what you witnessed as I understand you were one of the first people on the scene.’

‘Indeed, it was I who raised the alarm. I was unable to sleep owing to the violence of the storm so I lit my candles on the little desk in my room and devoted an hour to writing. I was disturbed by the sound of someone falling and I took up a candle and went to see what was happening. I could see my poor friend lying at the foot of these stairs: immobile – shattered – life extinguished!’ Her voice choked and she came gliding downstairs, taking care to hold onto the
banisters
with one hand.

Dr Stringer emerged from the library, where he had been sleeping on the sofa, looking bleary-eyed and unshaven.

‘Oh, poor Dr Stringer!’ cried Lady Denby. ‘You look in need of hot water and a razor. I’ll see they are provided. You can use my room now I have risen. Then there’s plenty to eat and drink set out in the breakfast room.’

The doctor exchanged a few words with Colonel Hartley, who assured him that there was no great need for haste, and he was conducted upstairs by her ladyship, who promised to provide him with one of Sir Ralph’s razors.

‘I’d rather take a look first on my own,’ said Colonel Hartley. ‘I don’t find the good doctor altogether helpful. If you’d come with me I’d be grateful for your help.’

He addressed George and me but my brother, to my relief, excused himself, anxious to return to his breakfast and not too keen to see Louisa again, dead or alive.

‘I’m sure Charlotte will be more use to you than I could be,’ he said. ‘She was helping Lady Denby from the first.’

The Colonel and I went up to Louisa Thorpe’s room
together. The corpse was now decently draped in a sheet. I pointed out the oddities I had observed: the fact she had not lit a candle, the missing pillowcase and the fact she had not put on her dressing gown or shawl.

‘I did wonder if she was going to make a last attempt on my brother,’ I said, ‘perhaps pretending to be frightened by the storm, but it was over before she had the fall and she was nowhere near his room. No one has any idea what she was doing prowling about the house in the middle of the night.’

‘I don’t think it matters much. I think the missing
pillowcase
could prove more important.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, do you really believe Mrs Thorpe’s death was an accident?’

‘What else could it be?’

‘You noticed a number of curious features. Do they suggest anything untoward?’

He looked around the room and took a heavy brass
candlestick
over to the window, asking me to bring the other. After looking at both carefully he turned his attention to the marble obelisks above the fireplace. I carried them both over to him and he gave an exclamation of triumph.

‘Here we are! There is the faintest trace of dried blood on this one – can you see it?’

‘I think so.
Is
it blood?’

‘I’m pretty sure of it, though it’s the merest trace. When wiping something clean by candlelight it is difficult to be exact.’

‘You think it was used to strike Mrs Thorpe?’

‘Possibly. Then the pillowcase was used to wipe it clean
and then wrapped round the poor woman’s head until she was carried to the top of the stairs and then thrown down. She was a small woman and a strong man – even a tall, strong woman – could have done it.’

I shuddered.

‘I’m sorry – am I distressing you? I’ve seen too much of death, perhaps.’

‘No. I disliked the woman but I would never have wished her such a death.’

‘It is, perhaps, a consequence of what has gone before. This may not be a succession of separate events but a
connected
series perpetrated by one diseased mind.’

‘Then there’s a connection between everything that’s happened?’

‘I’m inclined to think so.’

‘A madman?’

‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. There’s logic and
intelligence
at work. There are certain people – quite pleasant and plausible on the surface – who have no sense of right and wrong. They are interested only in their own advantage and destroy everyone who stands in their way.’

‘It can’t be anyone in this house, surely?’

‘I don’t know anything for certain.’

There was a small writing table in the room set out with pen, ink and stationery. A few letters lay on top of it, which he glanced at curiously, then he opened one of the drawers, glanced down into it with a frown, then picked up some sort of folded document which he thrust inside his coat.

I was about to question him when Lady Denby charged in, followed by Dr Stringer.

‘What are you doing here, Miss Tyler?’ she demanded.
‘What possible use could you be to Colonel Hartley? I should have thought you’d be more of a hindrance than a help.’

‘She has been of the greatest possible assistance,’ said Colonel Hartley.

‘Well, I’m afraid her usefulness is at an end as Dr Stringer is here to look at poor Louisa. It was impossible to carry out a proper examination by candlelight. Come, Miss Tyler, this is no place for us poor women.’ She ushered me out of the room and we left the two men to their work.

‘Do you like Colonel Hartley?’ she asked me as we went downstairs.

‘Of course,’ I replied in as calm a tone as possible. ‘What is there
not
to like?’

‘That’s not quite what I meant.’

‘No? Then I am baffled.’

‘Oh, come now, you are not usually so obtuse. I meant, do you like him in a way exceeding ordinary friendship?’

‘I’m not at all sure what you mean, even now. He is a most agreeable man and I’m sure you think so too.’

She sighed. ‘Very well, keep your own counsel if you wish. I am never one to interfere, but mind what you are about, that’s all.’

With that she returned to the breakfast room to impose her presence on my brother and Sophie. The latter soon joined me for our morning walk and was eager to know what had transpired.

‘Lady Denby must be really upset,’ she said, ‘she ate nothing but a little toast and half a boiled egg.’

‘That’s because she had a breakfast tray carried up to her an hour ago.’

‘The old fraud! I don’t believe half she says, do you? But do
tell me what Colonel Hartley thinks about it all.’

I could not tell her much about his theories. He had entrusted me with opinions that were not, at this stage, intended for anyone else, so I told her as much as I could and said a walk in the fresh air was the best thing for us both after the horrors of the night. We were returning to the house just as Colonel Hartley was leaving.

‘We’ve done all we can do for now,’ he said. ‘The doctor is attending to Sir Ralph. I’m riding to Ashdale. I might as well inform the coroner myself and make arrangements for a post-mortem and inquest if necessary. I’m sure the verdict will be accidental death or misadventure.’

‘I’m tired,’ said Sophie. ‘I’ll go in and have a rest, Aunt Charlotte, if you don’t mind.’ She gave me a sly look;
obviously
she was deliberately intending to leave me in the Colonel’s company. As he was heading for the gates we walked there together, he leading his horse.

‘Are you sure you’re not tired too?’ he enquired. ‘You had little sleep last night.’

‘No, not at all. You must have had many sleepless nights when you were campaigning.’

‘I suppose so, but ladies are not used to that sort of thing – well, maybe a few of them are but violent events in a quiet country house are more of a shock because they are so incongruous.’

‘What does Dr Stringer think?’

‘Oh, it was certainly an accident: she had no light and the stairs were slippery. The good doctor looks no further than that. It was the same with my poor friend Rushworth…. To tell the truth,’ he continued after a pause, ‘I don’t like to think of you and Sophie in that house.’

‘What could possibly happen to us? My brother George is a perfectly adequate guardian. Surely you don’t think Sophie and I are likely to fall downstairs in the middle of the night?’

‘No, the same thing won’t happen twice but there may be other dangers. I’m sorry, I can’t be more specific. If I knew what they were I might warn you of them. It’s better that you don’t know too much at present.’

‘Now you are talking in riddles.’

He looked at me with a serious expression. His eyes were perfectly grey, I thought, with not a trace of blue or green.

‘I will tell you this much,’ he said, ‘because I trust you to keep it to yourself. When I was searching Mrs Thorpe’s desk this morning I found a letter addressed to me and inscribed: “To be opened in the event of my death!” I have it here, as yet unread, but it may provide us with some answers. It may be the coroner should see it.

‘I shall see you later today and let you all know what is to happen concerning the post-mortem and inquest. Goodbye for now.’

He hesitated a moment and then kissed my hand and rode off at a brisk canter. His lips brushed against my ring and I recollected that Harry had kissed it before he put it on my finger. Somehow that gesture had brought the two of them together.