Page 14 of Deadly Ghost (Angus Brodie and Mikaela Forsythe Murder Mystery #12)

Thirteen

I might not have recognized him were it not for the man’s thick stature, large paws for hands, and his gruff response as my great aunt called for bets. The sight of him at the gaming table with a polite demeanor was most unusual in contrast to his usually gruff manner.

Aunt Antonia promptly dealt a round of cards in a game that I recognized as poker. Lily looked at her cards, placed a bet, then called for one card. Mr. Brown inspected his cards, cursed, then threw down his entire hand and rose from the table.

“That is the third hand I’ve lost this morning to the woman!” he exclaimed by way of a greeting. “I know she cheats, but I haven’t been able to determine just how.”

He nodded at Brodie, then looked at me overlong with that sharp gaze that seemed to see everything.

I had made an attempt to hide the bruise with some powder before leaving the office so as not to alarm Aunt Antonia. I thought it quite successful, until now.

Brown motioned for Brodie to follow him and they left the parlor.

“It seems that you have had quite an adventure,” Aunt Antonia commented with a frown, as she laid her cards on the table and gave several coins to Lily.

“Come along, dear,” she said, as she rose from her chair. “Munro has spoken of your trip to Compiegne.”

I followed her into the solar. Rain pelted the glass as she poured two glasses of whisky and handed one to me. “You must tell me everything,” she said as Lily joined us. “That bruise is quite dreadful. I do hope that you gave as good as you received? And speak plainly, Mikaela. If there is a threat to the family, then I will hear all of it.”

I explained what Brodie and I knew, what we had learned in Compiegne, the missing document that I had hoped might reveal the truth about Victoria Grantham’s birth, then the attack on me.

“And Mr. Munro’s part in this? He left quite suddenly and left us with Mr. Brown, although I can say that his presence has been most interesting.”

I shared that Brodie had asked Munro to watch the man we had seen leaving Grantham Manor after my meeting with Victoria Grantham.

She waited expectantly.

“It appears that he was a physician, more specifically a surgeon.”

“In Aldgate?” she remarked. “Somewhat unusual. And I assume he is dead. That, of course, explains Munro’s sudden departure and the presence of Mr. Brown,” she commented. “Hardly necessary, dear. Should there be any danger, we are well armed here at Sussex Square. Although I will admit, it has been most entertaining to have Mr. Brown with us. And what of Lenore and James?”

I explained that he and Brodie had also arranged for some of his men to discreetly provide protection for them.

In for a penny, in for a pound. I had shared this much, there was hardly any point in keeping anything from her.

I then shared about the manuscript that had been delivered to my brother-in-law.

“And she has written a novel?” She was thoughtful. “And that dreadful appearance of hers ... No criticism, dear. You are quite lovely, but there was something about the woman when we met at the gallery showing ... that seemed quite odd.”

She had emptied her glass and poured more for herself. I declined.

“It does seem as if the woman is quite deranged. It is possible that her financial situation is part of it, but that is no excuse for the attack on you. I believe it’s called ‘attempted murder.’”

I would have laughed if the ‘situation’ wasn’t so dangerous. I might have expected Aunt Antonia to be wearing a deerstalker hat with her determination to participate in one of our inquiry cases.

And then in that way that reminded me of myself, she continued on.

“One man is dead, another has disappeared in France, and you’ve been accosted. He will undoubtedly contact her,” she added. “Which will only make her more determined to carry out her plan.

“The woman must be stopped!”

Brodie eventually returned, his expression no expression at all, one I was familiar with from past inquiry cases when he was deep in thought, which meant that he and Munro had thoroughly discussed the situation with Mr. Brown.

We were informed that Mr. Brown had departed—even though no one had seen him leave, such was the man’s ability to move about. Much like someone else, I knew. Yet, two of his men were to remain at Sussex Square.

“Do ye want me to accompany ye?” Munro asked when Brodie requested the use of my great aunt’s coach and driver as we prepared to leave.

Brodie shook his head. “It’s best ye remain here until this is over. I will send word if there is a need.”

Lily stood quiet as a statue as we prepared to leave, then approached me.

“I won’t let anyone hurt her,” she said in a quiet but determined voice, the accent slipping through as it did with Brodie when he was angry.

She was no longer the girl I had brought from Scotland as my ward, but a very determined young woman.

I pressed my hand against her cheek.

“I’m relying on you.”

The ride to the office was quiet, except for the sounds of the street beyond the coach. Yet I was aware that Brodie watched me from where he sat.

“Ye spoke with Lady Antonia?”

I nodded. “There was no reason not to tell her what had happened.” I smiled.

“I feel sorry for anyone who attempts to harm her or Lily.”

Still, I was most grateful that Munro and two of Mr. Brown’s men were there.

His voice softened. “Aye, I believe the woman can be quite formidable.”

We continued a distance in silence. There was something that was there at the edge of my thoughts as I told my great aunt everything that had happened.

Until now, Victoria Grantham had the advantage in her insane plan. I was quite through with that.

She would not stop or go away. That was quite clear, and I was not willing to simply wait for whatever she might do when she learned her scheme in Compiegne had failed.

“Wot are ye thinkin’, lass?” Brodie asked as he had so many times. He could never know how much that meant to me.

There was no argument against it. No angry attempt to convince me otherwise as we neared the Strand.

He listened.

“If anything should happen to Linnie, Aunt Antonia, or Lily ...” I continued. “I refuse to simply wait for what she might do next. You surely have experience with this from when you were with the MET.”

Or possibly from that other life before he joined the MET.

“Do ye know what ye are saying?”

I did.

I was prepared to give Victoria Grantham what she wanted—myself. I had become a target in what we now believed was some insane plan to insert herself into our family no matter what it took, no matter the cost.

Everything she had done proved that she would not stop, not even at murder. I was not willing to let her succeed in that.

Brodie stared out the window of the coach. What did he see? Something, nothing, lost in thought. Perhaps thinking of a way to talk me out of it? He eventually turned back. That dark gaze met mine.

“Yer to do exactly as I say in this.”

For once, I did not argue.

We remained at the office on the Strand that night, then rose early the next morning. I had slept fitfully, Brodie not at all, it appeared.

He set the coffee on the coal stove while I washed, found clean clothes in a drawer, and set some order to myself. He then poured us both a cup of coffee. It was strong and hot, just what I needed.

“Where do we begin?” I asked, holding my cup in both hands to warm them.

“It’s safe to say that the woman knows about the man’s failure in the attack in Compiegne,” he pointed out. “He would only have needed to send a telegram.

“What with that manuscript she wrote, it’s obvious that she knows a good many things about ye already. It’s possible that she’s followed ye for some time in her scheme.”

I hadn’t noticed anyone, and yet she had known to send her man after us when we left for France. I felt another cold chill.

Was she insane? What would she do next?

“We have to use that against her,” he continued. “Follow where she goes, see, then not seen, so that she doesna know what to expect next.” He paused.

“The woman is obviously not of sound mind. But she’s clever and unpredictable ...”

“Therefore, I have to be clever and unpredictable,” I replied the obvious.

He nodded. “It will be dangerous, particularly now when her first attempt on yer life failed.”

I should have been afraid. I wasn’t—there was too much at risk.

“The alternative would be to do nothing,” I commented. “And simply wait until she does something else. I won’t take that chance.”

“Aye,” he said as he finished erasing the information on the board that I had so carefully written.

“You think that she would come here?”

“I believe that anything is possible when someone becomes desperate. I’ve seen it and experienced it.”

I watched as he finished cleaning the board, set the felt eraser on the chalk rail very carefully, then turned and slowly came toward me

“Do ye know wot ye are askin’ of me?” he asked. “To allow ye to deliberately put yerself in danger? If anything should happen to ye,” he added, “ye should know that she will not live to see the inside of a court or a ward at Bedlam.”

“It cannot be any worse than facing down Marie Nikola in our first inquiry case.”

I had tried for some measure of humor. He was not amused.

“How are we to begin?” I asked.

“There is always someone who would know appointments she might have; places she would go. What of the housekeeper?”

“Ye said the woman appeared to want to tell ye somethin’ that day as ye left after yer meetin’ with Victoria Grantham.”

“Perhaps, yet even if she is willing to tell us, it could be dangerous for her,” I pointed out. “Why would she take the risk?”

“Perhaps to save herself. We need to know where the woman will be, and when.”

“She answered the telephone when I called previously. I might be able to persuade her to meet with me.”

“Aye. It is worth a try. But ye should be prepared that she will refuse to meet ye.”

I did recognize that she might be suspicious, might refuse outright to meet with us. It was a chance I was willing to take, and carefully prepared what I would say. I then had the operator put through the call to Grantham Manor.

Mrs. Aldcott answered as she had previously. She did share that Victoria Grantham had left earlier for an appointment and was not expected until late. I then asked if she would be willing to meet with me about an important matter. A long silence followed.

She then questioned the reason. I relied on that previous brief exchange as I had left Grantham Manor.

“I believe that you know what it is about,” I replied and then repeated my request to meet. “You tried to speak of it the day I was there.”

She eventually agreed to meet at the office on the Strand and would leave right away.

It was a good hour’s travel by coach from Waverly Place, and as it grew later, I became anxious.

What if Victoria Grantham had returned unexpectedly and questioned her? It could be dangerous for her.

What if Victoria Grantham came here, for one of those ‘appointments’ she told Mrs. Aldcott of?

What if ...?

The service bell rang and Brodie went to the landing. He returned with Mrs. Aldcott, who was obviously hesitant. Perhaps even afraid. And then she saw me.

“Forgive me, it’s just that the resemblance is astonishing, even though I saw you before. And if she knew that I was here ... I have a little while before she returns.”

“You’re quite safe,” I assured her and introduced Brodie.

He took her coat and the market basket she had brought with her, an excuse for her absence if she should be found out.

I invited her to sit in one of the overstuffed chairs. I sat across from her.

“We’ve just returned from France,” I explained. “We were there in an attempt to learn more about Victoria Grantham’s claim. You know of it?”

She nodded. “I saw the letter she had the solicitor write.”

“There was an attempt on my life while we were there by the man I saw at the manor the day I met with her, and I have reason to believe that my family is in great danger with the claim she has made. I need your help to protect them.”

She was hesitant and wary.

“Someone in your position would see things, the letter you mentioned, and perhaps other things.” I continued. “Or you might overhear something. There was something you wanted to tell me that day. I need to know what that was.”

She was still hesitant. “You must understand, I was with Sir Grantham and Lady Grantham for more than twenty years.”

“And you do not wish to betray that loyalty.” I understood. “But this isn’t about your loyalty to them, it is about your mistress now, something that could end in tragedy.”

For several moments I thought she might refuse to tell us more.

“I knew her as a child.” She was still hesitant, as if struggling to find the right words.

“She was bright and curious. But something changed in her after she came home from school when Sir Grantham was very ill. There was a horrible argument with Lady Grantham.”

She didn’t know what it was about, but Victoria returned to school in France shortly afterward. When she finished school, she chose to remain in France except for only brief visits.

“All those years, Lady Grantham wrote to her, pleaded with her to come home. I posted the letters for her. There were only a few responses, that left the poor woman in tears. Then, several months ago, Miss Victoria returned. After all that time, and it was too late. Lady Grantham became ill shortly after and then passed.”

Several months?

The solicitor who wrote to Sir Laughton stated that she had returned two months before.

And Lady Grantham became ill shortly after?

She shook her head. “She was not the girl I remembered—she had changed. She seemed preoccupied about something. She would be up all night, and more than once I heard her shouting to no one. She was angry. I thought it must be over the loss of her mother.

“That was when the doctor came.”

“I saw a man leave that day I met with her.”

She nodded. “She had a scar on her face from a childhood accident. It could hardly be seen, but she seemed to be obsessed with it. She said that he told her he could give her a new face.

“She left for an entire day, with no word. There were bandages when she returned. He came to the manor frequent after that, and they would close themselves off in the library.

That explained the smell of chloroform, to perhaps relieve the pain of the surgeries, and Mrs. Aldcott’s description of spells.

Mr. Brimley spoke of possible side-effects. One of them was hallucinations.

“After some time, there didn’t seem to be the need for him to return so often, only to change the bandages. She took the last ones off herself, and when I saw her ... I didn’t recognize her.”

“You should know the physician is dead,” Brodie told her.

“Dead?” she replied with a stunned expression. “I never liked the man, but to think ...” She shook her head in disbelief.

“The poor man. I don’t wish something like that for anyone.” She looked at me as if trying to make sense of it.

“You believe that she did it?”

“Or someone killed him for her.”

She shook her head. “She said there was no need for him any longer when I asked about him only a few days ago.”

She was quiet for several moment, then looked up.

“It wasn’t just the changes in her face, you know. It was something else, something frightening. I’ve never been a religious woman, you understand. But if there is evil in the world, it is inside her.”

“There was another man on the stairway as I left that day, the same man who attacked me in Compiegne.”

“René,” she spat out with obvious dislike. “He arrived with her when she first returned. He does her bidding, and ... other things,” she added. “He left three days ago.” She glanced from me to Brodie.

“Do you believe that he killed the physician?”

“It’s very possible,” I replied. A loose end. “Has René returned?”

“If so, he’s not been seen at the manor.”

There was more.

“She wrote a book, what she called a novel, like the ones you write,” she told us then. “She had purchased one of your books and she spent hours in the library with it. She said it was a way to learn how to write.”

I exchanged a look with Brodie.

“But it’s not just what she wrote, or her likeness to you,” she tried to explain. “It’s like I said, she’s someone else.” She shook her head.

“The way she talks, the things she says, as if she believes that she is you. I’m afraid what she will do.”

“That is the reason we need your help.”

I felt enormous sympathy for the poor woman. She had lost what had been her family for over twenty years.

“My poor mistress, Lady Anne. Better that she is gone and not aware what has happened.” There were tears as she looked at me.

“I’ll help you.”