Page 4 of Deadly Ghost (Angus Brodie and Mikaela Forsythe Murder Mystery #12)

Three

“I know what I saw,” I told Brodie over supper that evening, after providing him the information about Lady Talmadge and her encounter with the woman by the name of M. Holcomb of Waverly Place, London.

Then, over a dram of whisky afterward in the front parlor at the townhouse, I shared that most unusual encounter with the young woman outside the gymnasium.

“There are many persons with red hair,” he commented. “Although not as appealing as yer own, particularly when ye wear it down ...”

There was that smile as he refilled his glass. I shook my head when he offered to refill my own.

“It wasn’t just the color of her hair. It was very much like seeing ... my reflection in a mirror. Oh, not exactly the same but near enough that it was most curious. And the way she looked at me, for just a moment before getting into the coach. It was as if ...”

“As if wot ...?”

“Familiarity,” I replied. I didn’t know how else to describe it. “As if I should know her.”

There was more. I went on to describe Lily’s encounter outside Hatchards bookstore. “She was quite adamant about the resemblance. She went on and on in great detail. You know how she can be about things.”

“Aye, like a dog with a bone.”

I ignored that comment.

“I suppose it could be nothing more than coincidence. Many cultures have myths and superstitions about such things, and believe that we all have a twin somewhere.”

“A twin?” Brodie commented with some amusement.

“Two people identical to each other,” I explained. “There are occasionally twins born from time to time that one hears of.”

“I know what it means. I’m not certain the world is ready for two of ye.”

He went to the fireplace and added more coal against the evening chill that had set in in the past few weeks.

“It is possible the young woman had business nearby,” Brodie suggested. “And it was a matter of simply returning to her coach as the weather set in.”

He was right of course. Camden was a working-class part of London with factories, markets, work-shops, and the gymnasium, crowded with carts and wagons on any given day.

It could be nothing more than a random encounter. As for the similarity of appearance ...

The insistent sound of the telephone in the hallway pulled me from that thought. It eventually ceased.

It was not unusual to receive a telephone call at the townhouse, most usually when Brodie had already left the office on the Strand and some matter arose that needed his attention regarding a case we were working on.

Mrs. Ryan appeared at the entrance to the parlor and announced the call was for me. It was my great aunt. I looked at Brodie with some surprise.

Not that it was all that unusual for her to call. She had become quite use to the ‘demmed rude thing,’ as she called the telephone that had been installed at Sussex Square.

“Here you are, dear,” she replied when I picked up the hand-set. “I know this is short of notice, but there is a situation that has arisen and I need for you and Mr. Brodie to come to Sussex Square in the morning. I have also asked Lenore and Mr. Warren to join us. Ten o’clock, if you please. It is a most serious matter.”

Ten o’clock in the morning?

It wasn’t the time that was unusual, she was in the habit of rising quite early including our recent stay over at Old Lodge. It was something in her voice.

“Mikaela, dear.”

Not a request but that insistence again at her voice. She was not one to insist on something.

“Yes, of course,” I finally replied, even though I hadn’t had the chance to speak with Brodie.

“Wot is it?” Brodie asked as I slowly returned to the parlor, going back over that conversation ... except it wasn’t a conversation at all.

“Aunt Antonia has asked for us to meet with her at Sussex Square in the morning. She’s also asked for Linnie and James to be there.”

I spent a restless night following that telephone call from my great aunt.

My first thought was that she might have been taken ill. At her age it was to be expected, except there had been no indication in that conversation. She had been clear and succinct, even if a bit abrupt. And the simple truth was that if it was a health issue, her staff would call her physician, and then both Linnie and I would be made aware.

“It might be nothing more than some matter about her will and the estate. She mentioned it while we were at Old Lodge. I know little about such things, but knowin’ her ladyship, she will want to make certain that everything is as it should be for ye and yer sister.”

That did seem reasonable, and not so very long after she had spoken of it. I had paid little attention at the time as I was not preoccupied with it. And the truth was that I didn’t want to think about the time when my great aunt would no longer be here.

After the dreadful loss of both our parents, she had been our family, the one who put back together the pieces of our lives. Yet, I knew it was important to her that everything be in order.

Yes, I thought, undoubtedly that is what this was about, as our driver turned into the entrance at Sussex Square.

It appeared that James and Linnie had already arrived by the coach that was already there, along with a second one.

I exchanged a look with Brodie as we climbed the steps to the entrance and were greeted by Mr. Symons, my great aunt’s head butler.

“Good morning, Miss Mikaela, Mr. Brodie.”

Brodie nodded his greeting as he handed over his coat and neck scarf.

“Mr. Symons...” I started to ask, and felt Brodie’s reassuring hand on my arm.

“Beg your pardon, miss. Her ladyship has asked that everyone meet in the library upon arrival.”

He had been with my great aunt for over thirty years, well before she brought Linnie and me to live at Sussex Square.

He had seen us—mostly myself—through our early adventures that would have seemed too much responsibility for a woman of our great aunt’s station in life, not to mention her age at the time, to undertake.

But we had all somehow ‘ muddled through,’ as he once described it, and survived.

I handed over my umbrella and coat, attempting now to learn something from that stoic gaze.

“Is my great aunt well?”

“Yes, miss. Quite well.”

That at least eliminated any illness or malady that might have necessitated the meeting on such short notice.

She rose from the settee as we arrived in the library. Linnie and James were seated nearby, with Lily beside them. Two more chairs sat across from them before the hearth.

I was somewhat surprised to see Sir Laughton, my great aunt’s attorney, at the desk. That explained the additional coach as we arrived. I took one of the chairs, while Brodie chose to stand.

“We can now begin,” Aunt Antonia announced.

“I have asked you here this morning because of a matter of grave importance that has made itself known that may affect all of you.”

I had seen my great aunt in many situations, always in control, always with that same bearing and manner, something I had once described much like a field commander in spite of her eccentricities. This was no different, as she nodded to Sir Laughton then sat once more.

“If you please, Cedric.”

“Yes, of course,” he replied with a faint smile that was quickly gone as he stood.

“The matter which Lady Montgomery has spoken of and requested you to be here is of a delicate nature that has the potential to affect all of you.”

He looked at me, then Linnie, and continued.

“She has received contact from a young woman who has made the claim that the late John Forsythe was her father.” He indicated a letter before him on the desk, along with several papers and a small bundle of envelopes.

“The young woman has provided letters between Sir John and her late mother that appear to support her claim, as well as other documents.”

I shifted uncomfortably as he continued. Our father’s infidelities were well known. It was very much like an old wound that was being pried open once more, and I felt Brodie’s hand on my shoulder.

“Who is she?” Linnie was the first to speak.

“Her name is Victoria Grantham,” Sir Laughton replied. “Her mother was Lady Anne Grantham.”

I noticed the look that passed between Sir Laughton and my great aunt, then he continued.

“According to the information provided by her representative, she had been living in France until several months ago. She became aware of the letters and documents upon her return, and Lady Grantham’s passing.”

It felt as if the walls of the library were closing in. I suddenly stood, unable to calmly sit there any longer as he continued to explain that my aunt had received the letter from the woman the day before, along with a packet of those other letters and documents.

All of the emotions that I had buried long ago were there once more as I thought of the last several days—the woman Lily had seen outside the bookstore, the woman I had seen in Camden the day before. That striking resemblance.

Both encounters a coincidence?

It hardly seemed so with what we were now being told as those memories clawed their way to the surface.

“Who is this representative?” I demanded, fighting back the anger that still came too easily.

“A solicitor by the name of Jerrod Handley,” Sir Laughton replied.

“Do you know him?”

He gestured to the embossed letter that lay open on the desk.

“Not directly, however he is with Whitcomb and Handby Solicitors, a reputable firm here in London.”

“What does she want?” I asked, somewhat sharply and caught my sister’s startled expression at my bluntness.

“According to the letter received with these other letters and the documents, she wants only to know her real family.”

I caught the look my great aunt gave me when I would have said what I wanted to say.

“I am available,” Sir Laughton added. “If there should be questions, or you wish to respond to the letter.”

Aunt Antonia stood then. “Thank you, Ceddy. As always.”

“I will leave these with you.” He laid that letter from the woman’s representative on the desk along with the folded document and that wrapped bundle of old letters.

Linnie was the first to break the awkward silence after he had left. “I suppose the thing to do would be to arrange a meeting.”

“And she has now appeared after all these years? That is quite astounding,” James commented.

He had only recently become a part of the family. I had no way of knowing what my sister might have shared with him about our childhood. She had been a good deal younger at that time, and I had shielded her from so many things. Admittedly, her memories were different from mine.

It was not the same for Brodie. He had experienced a great deal of loss as a child, forced to live on the streets after his mother’s death, then in his time with the MET and during our private inquiry cases. One case in particular that had been difficult for both of us—homeless children rounded up and used for sport. The cruelty of it had opened those old wounds.

Still, it was then that I had shared the memories of that earlier tragedy, the horror and pain of it, the infidelities that were whispered about that he understood so very well. It had broken down the wall I had always kept around my feelings. And he was there. Just as he was now, his hand on my shoulder in quiet understanding.

He said nothing now. It wasn’t necessary.

“I do believe an effort should be made to meet with her. You know as well as I, that it is very possible that her claim is legitimate,” Linnie added. “We should at least be willing to consider the possibility.”

“You may do as you wish,” I replied. I was not convinced of the woman’s claim, in spite of the letters and documents she had provided.

“But if she has documents to prove this ...” Linnie continued.

“In due time,” Aunt Antonia interceded. “I will speak with Sir Laughton again on the matter. Mikaela, Brodie, do remain.”

“Yes, of course,” James replied, as the family meeting was obviously at an end. “I do need to return to the office.”

Linnie paused as they prepared to leave. “It must be very difficult for this Victoria Grantham as well,” she reasoned. “I do hope that you will at least consider meeting with her.”

Linnie had always been the one to make peace between us, our temperaments quite different—hers calm and reasonable, mine ... somewhat different, as Brodie would say.

“There are a great many questions still to be answered,” I replied, not wanting to upset her in her condition. She squeezed my hand, then paused.

“There is the reception tomorrow evening at the gallery. With this upsetting news, I suppose we might cancel,” she suggested.

“Not at all,” Aunt Antonia informed her. “It is important for you. We shall be there to support you.”

Much like the field commander, I thought. She waited until they had gone.

“With what has now happened, there are things you should know.”

She sat once more, then indicated the side table with a decanter and glasses. “Mr. Brodie, if you please. It might be a bit early in the day—however I believe we might all do with a dram.”

He poured three tumblers, then handed one to each of us.

“It is a very fine whisky,” my great aunt said, looking quite thoughtfully into the glass. She drained the tumbler, then set it on the table beside her chair.

“I must go as well,” Brodie said.

This was far different than James choosing to leave. This was an understanding of the bond between me and my great aunt, things shared in the past, and apparently more to be shared now.

“I will see ye afterward.” His hand gently brushed mine.

I nodded.

Lily followed him to the entrance of the library.

“I’ll be in the sword room,” she announced with a look at me, then at Aunt Antonia. And then we were alone.

“Another dram, Mikaela, if you please.”

It was long into the afternoon when Aunt Antonia rose from her chair and set aside her empty tumbler. Lunch had been brought to the library, but I had no appetite.

We had spoken of many things—the woman’s claim, the documents she had provided, along with those old letters. Yet the most stunning part of it—that my mother had known of the affair.

“I do not know when your mother first learned of it. Then the loss of the child she hoped for, and the illness that came afterward. I believe her malaise may have been caused by that loss and ... other things.

“She asked me to call on her at Pembrook after she became ill,” my great aunt continued after asking me to pour her another dram of whisky.

“She knew about the gambling and the debts, and she was dreadfully concerned for you and Lenore. Though the family connection was somewhat distant, I assured her that she need have no worry in that regard.”

Aunt Antonia smiled then and leaned over to pat my hand.

“We have had such an adventure, wouldn’t you say, my dear? I would not have missed it for all the gold in the treasury.” She drained the last of the whisky and set it on the table. “I do believe that Mr. Brodie is quite right. You and I are very much alike, my dear.”

There was more that went unspoken in the look she gave me. She stood then.

“I will have Mr. Hastings bring ’round the coach. It does seem that the weather has turned quite dreadful,” she said as she went to the entrance of the library, then paused.

“I believe that I will join Lily in the sword room for a go. I do hope the dear girl hasn’t shredded the damask drapes.” Another faint smile. “Such an adventure.”

Very much alike, indeed, I thought, as I called for my coat and umbrella.

Mr. Hastings nodded in greeting as he held open the door of the coach when I left the manor.

“Mayfair, miss?”

“The Strand,” I replied. “And slowly, please.”

I needed time to think about everything my great aunt had told me, things I hadn’t known as a child. As she said, it would have served no purpose.

It might have been an hour later, or perhaps two, when the coach finally stopped. I paid no attention on the ride from Sussex Square. I now peered out the glass at the familiar lights of the Strand.

Mr. Cavendish rolled out from the alcove on his platform as Mr. Hastings tipped his cap, then returned to his seat atop the coach and departed.

“The hound has been there all evenin’, waiting for you.” Mr. Cavendish pointed to the corner just beyond the smoke shop as Rupert came bounding toward us. “Wouldn’t touch the meat pie I brought over from the Public House. Now I’ll have to see if they have anything left for me own supper,” he grumbled as I scratched Rupert behind the ears in greeting.

They set off together as I turned toward the steps that led to the office. I was certain that Miss Effie would be able to provide something for the hound.

Brodie looked up as I entered the office. He sat at the desk, the small note pad that he always carried before him.

“I thought ye might have decided to stay over at Sussex Square,” he commented as that dark gaze fastened on me.

There were questions there, but he didn’t ask in that way that he sensed my need to think things through for myself.

“There’s supper on the stove,” he said then and gestured to the ceramic plate rimmed with roses that my great aunt had provided to replace the tin one he used in the past.

“Mr. Cavendish brought it for ye earlier.”

I wasn’t hungry. It might have been the whisky, or the lunch my great aunt provided as we sat and spoke of things I had not known. But I had eaten very little.

I was suddenly bone-tired, as I once heard it described. I had wondered at the time what that meant. Now I knew.

“Mrs. Ryan?”

I had not thought to call her earlier to inform her that we would not be returning that night.

“I let her know that we would be staying here for the night.”

I nodded. “I would like very much to go to bed now.”

He took my umbrella from my icy hands, then unbuttoned my long coat and hung it on the stand.

I undressed in the room next to the office that had been turned into a bedroom for those occasions when we worked late, then crawled beneath the blanket in my slip and camisole.

He pulled the comforter up and tucked it around me.

“I have some notes to make about the case for the Agency,” he said, and would have returned to the adjacent office.

I reached for his hand.

“Don’t go.”

The edge of the bed dipped under his weight. There was the sound of his boots as he removed them, then his solid warmth as he pulled me against him.

“Are ye all right?” he whispered.

“I will be.”