Page 13 of The Peculiar Incident at Thistlewick House

Edward had left Cattisham, the village where he’d grown up, not long after his father’s death and moved to London.

Using the money from his mediocre bequest, he’d rented a small flat and tried his luck at earning a crust from the illusions he’d perfected as a boy.

He’d changed his appearance and, to spite his father, his surname – even though the man was not alive to witness it.

When it became apparent that Barnabas would do nothing to address the injustice of the will, he’d severed all ties with his cousin, and would have been quite content never to set eyes on the man again.

But, seven years later, he was annoyed to find their paths accidentally crossed in London.

Although, as it was Edward who had introduced his cousin to the murky world of spiritualism, it was perhaps an inevitable encounter.

‘By God! Is that you, Edward?’

They were both attending a lecture on psychic phenomenon by The Etheric Communion Circle, and Barnabas was seated in the row behind him.

They recognised each other as everyone filed out of the lecture theatre at the end of the evening, and his cousin was clearly embarrassed to run into the man he’d betrayed but could not, in good conscience, ignore.

At first, Edward wanted to thump him, but they were in polite company and manners demanded he should save any such revenge until they were in a back alley and away from the judgemental eyes of gentlefolk.

‘Barnabas.’ He nodded but his hands were scrunched into tight fists and he could feel his jaw tensing. Barnabas was equally discomposed by the accidental meeting.

‘The colourful, theatrical clothing and the hair—’ They walked alongside each other and followed the crowd to the foyer.

‘I appreciate that it’s unfashionably long,’ Edward hastily interrupted, ‘but in my line of work, such eccentricity is almost imperative.’ His jet-black, ramrod-straight hair rested on his shoulders, making him look like some bohemian poet or a young Franz Liszt.

‘Please know that I go by the surname of Blackmore now and would appreciate your discretion regarding… matters relating to my childhood.’

‘Of course. And I would be grateful if the courtesy extended both ways. I’m in London hoping to secure the hand in marriage of a young lady I met through friends in Norfolk, and would like her to think kindly of me.

’ The look that passed between them acknowledged the necessity to leave the past firmly behind.

‘How is the exhilarating world of malting?’ Edward had made no effort to investigate his father’s company or the exploits of his cousin since leaving Suffolk.

As a child, he’d been fascinated by the process of steeping, germinating and drying the barley to provide the essential sugars for the brewing process.

But, back then, he’d wrongly believed it was to be his future occupation.

‘As long as men drink, there will always be a need for malt,’ Barnabas replied, avoiding a direct answer and then immediately changed the subject. ‘From the manner of your dress, I assume you are doing quite nicely for yourself.’ Was it Edward’s imagination or did his cousin look jealous?

‘I’m keeping my head above water, but I’ve had quite the struggle to establish myself, as I started out with practically nothing.’ His cousin had the grace to bow his head and remain silent.

A fair-haired young woman across the room caught Edward’s eye and his heart began an intense and uncontrollable thud.

It wasn’t that she was particularly beautiful, in fact, there was nothing exceptional about her at all.

He couldn’t explain or rationalise how meeting her eye suddenly made his whole world explode into beautiful colours, as though everything before that moment had been grey.

She started to walk towards him, almost as if he were the fisherman, reeling in his line, and she were the fish, being pulled ever closer.

Everyone around them blurred to an unfocused mist as their eyes locked.

He’d never before given credence to such fanciful notions as love at first sight.

For someone whose growing reputation was based on amateur dramatics, he was, in reality, an exceedingly quiet and self-controlled man.

He had no time to indulge in such emotions, largely because the affectionate side of his nature had been eroded by the treatment he’d received from his father.

But this stranger had ignited a spark of unconfined joy, without so much as even having spoken to him.

Perhaps there was more to the universe than he’d considered.

Barnabas noticed that he’d lost Edward’s attention and turned to see what his cousin was looking at.

‘Ah, Edward. This is Miss Emma Dunham. She is staying in London with her parents for a couple of weeks. Her father is here on business but the ladies have accompanied him to experience some of the things our wonderful capital city has to offer.’ He swept up the woman’s small hand as she approached and gently placed a kiss on her soft fingers. ‘She is a… particular friend of mine.’

Edward forced himself to remain upright, feeling keenly the metaphorical kick in the guts as his cousin squashed him into the dirt for the second time in his life. This was the woman Barnabas was hoping to marry?

The introduction was brief and Barnabas was particularly keen to cut the conversation short, perhaps sensing Edward’s interest. His cousin was staying at the same guest house as Miss Dunham and her family, and she’d insisted on collecting Mr Shaw from the lecture in her father’s carriage, even though he’d said he was happy to catch a cab.

Once she realised that Edward was related to Mr Shaw, however, and clearly unaware of their uncomfortable history, she insisted that he was included in the concerts, gallery visits and park walks they’d planned for the remainder of her visit.

Edward had no desire to spend any time with his cousin and could hardly look at the man without wanting to thump him, but his reasons for accepting were threefold.

Barnabas was hiding something – he just knew it; his cousin absolutely did not want him anywhere near the young lady, so he would delight in doing exactly that; and Edward was so inexplicably enchanted by Miss Dunham that he would even suffer being in the same room as the man who’d betrayed him, just to spend more time with her.

Consequently, he spent the following three days in their company, knowing full well his presence at the National Gallery, an afternoon musical recital and a Shakespearean play at the Lyceum made his cousin uneasy – especially as Edward and Emma bonded so quickly.

His spiritualism, in particular, fascinated her, but she did not believe for one moment that any of it was real.

She asked about his process, which made a refreshing change from his cousin’s blind acceptance, and offered rational and intelligent explanations for the things he talked of – most of them uncomfortably close to the truth.

But she did not judge. Instead, she found the whole thing rather amusing.

‘If you are clever enough to dupe people, and they are foolish enough to believe you, then good luck to you all. They are paying for a show and I can imagine you are quite the showman, holding forth in your fancy waistcoats and colourful coats.’ She paused.

‘And yet I suspect you to be a private man, a gentle soul, hiding something. What’s your secret, Edward? What is it that you keep hidden?’

He’d laughed it off without answering and Barnabas wandered over to ask what was so amusing, before deliberately placing himself between them, and the conversation dried up.

But Emma’s perception unnerved Edward. She knew he was holding something back, but he also knew that he couldn’t divulge the truth to her, because she would end up distancing herself from him, as his own father had done.

Even Barnabas had abandoned him once he no longer had to pacify his uncle.

Instead, Edward revelled in every shared joke and quiet moment over those few days with Miss Dunham.

His confidence might have been an act but his feelings certainly weren’t.

He studied her face when he thought she wasn’t looking, sometimes catching her studying him with equal fascination, and replayed these intimate moments over and over in his small, rented garret room at the end of each day, looking for reassurance that his feelings were reciprocated.

On the Dunhams’ final day in the city, they met for a walk around the Serpentine in Hyde Park, even though the day was overcast. Barnabas had taken the opportunity to confront his cousin, away from the rest of the group, as they returned to the carriage to collect some blankets for the ladies to sit on.

‘Now look here, Edward, I’ll shortly be asking Emma to marry me, dammit, and I can see you sniffing around like a dog on heat.

Back off, I say, or I’ll tell her the truth about you.

Do you not think she’ll find out anyway?

And then where will you be?’ He puffed up his chest, feeling that he had the upper hand.

Edward had always known he was unlikely to marry, and had accepted that this brief flirtation was nothing but a pipe dream, but one he’d enjoyed, nonetheless.

‘Then I demand you tell me what you’re hiding, cousin,’ he challenged.

‘You’ve been evasive about the maltings and my father’s house ever since we encountered one another.

It’s more than your embarrassment about the inheritance, and if you don’t come clean then I’ll lay bare the truth of your treatment of me before Miss Dunham.

I don’t think you a bad man, but you were certainly an opportunistic one. ’ Edward spoke slowly and calmly.

He watched his cousin’s Adam’s apple bob down to his sternum as he swallowed hard.

‘I lost the company.’ Barnabas’s head was low and his voice almost inaudible.