Page 19 of The Peculiar Incident at Thistlewick House

Edward knew that death was a part of life.

A quarter of children wouldn’t live to see their tenth birthday and most people felt extraordinarily lucky if they reached the Bible’s promised three score and ten.

However, it struck him that there were a surprising number of such fortunate people in Thistlewick Tye.

Mrs Drayton, who had grown up in the village because her father had owned the grocery store, claimed that the wholesome benefits of the sea air, a diet of fresh fish, rich in protein, along with the caring community that looked after its own and saw no man go without, gave the villagers a longer than average life expectancy.

It made the loss of Emma and Silas, both seemingly at the hand of another, even more tragic.

It also made Edward wonder if he’d got his priorities wrong.

Few of the wealthy folk that he knew in London walked around with the beaming smiles of the Thistlewick Tye families.

Perhaps money wasn’t the answer to his unsatisfactory life after all, but instead, it was living somewhere where you knew your neighbour would always lend a willing hand, your children would receive a good education and no one would see you go hungry.

There was even talk that the doctor was raising funds to build a small cottage hospital. What more could a person want?

The Benevolent Committee, Carl confirmed from his enquiries, was at the very heart of this largesse.

It had been established over fifty years ago, by the previous Lord Felthorpe, along with the then vicar and old Dr Appleby.

It was now run by their successors: three well-respected men who ensured that the church was central to everything in Thistlewick, and who had initiated a fascinating scheme to deal with sinners.

If they repented, they’d be given the chance to make amends through the undertaking of good deeds.

Apparently, the vicar had drawn up quite the list of jobs and services needed by the community, and trespassers were expected to give back, with joy in their hearts, when their sin was discovered.

The baker’s son had been caught scrumping fruit in the autumn and spent three days repainting the interior of the church hall, and the postmistress had been overheard saying unkind things about the state of her young neighbour’s house and was instructed to mind her children for a couple of afternoons so the poor woman could get on top of her housework.

‘Lord Felthorpe, in particular, takes his duty as paternalistic custodian of Thistlewick Tye very seriously – them’s the vicar’s words, not mine,’ Carl added.

‘As long as his tenants prove honest, hard-working men, he treats them well – keeps the properties in good order and the rents reasonable. And he ain’t the only one, neither.

Dr Appleby doesn’t charge the poorest folk for his services, and in the September storm, the whole village turned out to help repair the roof of the school.

Real community spirit here that I ain’t seen nowhere else. ’

Thistlewick Tye appeared to have a good system to Edward.

If you helped someone in their hour of need, they would likely reciprocate when you hit hard times.

And the whole idea that the punishments, where necessary, were designed to benefit those who’d been sinned against was clever.

It was an incentive to lead wholesome lives and probably why Barnabas said he’d hardly ever seen any drunken or violent behaviour – Maude Grimmer’s habits and Noah’s unprovoked attack on Silas aside.

‘The Grimmer woman gets away with it because she ain’t technically part of the village.

She refuses to attend church and is a slave to the demon drink.

Most people I spoke to seem amazed she’s lived this long and wouldn’t give you ha’penny for her chances of lasting much longer.

I mean, I enjoy a drink with the best of ’em, but apparently she walks to Sheringham and buys three bottles of gin a week.

She’s the only rotten apple in the barrel but we know she didn’t push Silas from the cliff and has never stepped foot in this house, so’s unlikely to have anything to do with the death of Mrs Shaw. ’

But was the serpent in the Thistlewick Tye Garden of Eden of this world?

Or had Emma and Silas, in death, become empty vessels, allowing the immaterial essence of another to occupy their earthly bodies?

And did these spirits have murderous intent?

Every bone in Edward’s body told him that there must be a logical explanation for their astonishing personality changes, but their behaviour had been so peculiar that he truly couldn’t think of what that might be.

And then he mentally stepped back, once again, from his role in all of this.

Why should he care about this backwater?

His cousin had promised him Thistlewick House and had already given him a sizeable financial payment – seventeen years too late, but still.

He could use the money to finally put an end to his lies, even though he’d always tried to convince himself they were never unkindly meant.

He merely offered a service to the bereaved, and those who visited him were invariably happier when they left.

The spiritualism had been a means to an end.

Much like Lord Felthorpe’s system for the village, it felt right to Edward that the trespasser – his cousin – should recompense the victim. He should take the money and run.

‘Ah, cousin.’ Barnabas lifted his eyes as Edward entered the dining room a little while later. They were red from crying and dark shadows hung across his face. The man was not sleeping or eating, broken by his grief, and the plate of congealed eggs before him had not been touched.

‘I appreciate that you’ve upheld your end of the bargain, but I would consider it an enormous favour if you would undertake one last séance to try and reach the evil spirit who took my precious wife from me,’ he said, raising his head and looking for all the world like an abandoned puppy.

Organising Emma’s funeral had kept him busy and given him a purpose, but with her burial came the full stop to the chapter that had been their life together, and he was understandably struggling to begin the next.

‘I’m not a spiritual telegraph service,’ Edward pointed out. ‘Séances are very draining. I told you, cousin, I cannot summon spirits at will.’

Edward pulled out the chair opposite Barnabas and helped himself to a slice of toast from the rack, not having much of an appetite himself.

‘It’s only those with unfinished business in this life who come to me. This Esfir, even if she remains suspended between our world and the next, has no reason to make contact. In fact, if she is guilty of this nefarious deed, then quite the opposite is true.’

‘But you can try. I’ve already promised you the house. What more do you want from me? If it’s to see me suffer, then I can assure you I will bear the weight of Emma’s death until the end of time. You won, cousin; I’m a pathetic, empty shell of a man.’

Edward looked across at the person who’d been left a thriving maltings upon the death of his uncle, but who’d destroyed the company within five years, and married the only woman to ever steal Edward’s heart.

And then he’d moved to his wife’s birthplace after her parents had died and inherited yet another house.

Barnabas may not have been responsible for the decisions made by Jonah Shaw, but he’d done nothing to address the injustice after his death.

Edward had neither forgotten nor forgiven these actions.

It was as he helped himself to a plate of kippers that the housemaid burst into the room, screaming.

‘Your man!’ She addressed Edward. ‘He was down in the kitchen having breakfast and started going all peculiar; shaking and jerking about. He’s collapsed on the floor and his lips have gone all blue. Mr Wright has gone for the doctor but it is a terrible sight to see.’

‘Good God,’ Barnabas said, pushing back his chair. ‘Surely not another possession? Have we unwittingly invited the very Devil into our house?’

The pair rushed to the kitchen and Carl was indeed thrashing about, as his back briefly arched and the most horrific grimace flashed across his face. Edward knelt beside him, suspecting a poison, and from what he could see of the symptoms, strychnine.

‘He was complaining of an itchy scalp and feeling queer when he first came in,’ the cook said. ‘Kept touching his head.’

Dr Appleby arrived blessedly quickly and Edward apprised him of the situation.

Carl was given opiates to ease the spasms and the doctor ordered a hot bath to help the muscle contractions.

Accepting that the doctor was better placed to tend to his man, Edward took himself upstairs, now suspicious of the gift basket after the cook’s words – in particular the hair tonic.

He gathered everything up, even the gloves and scarf, not certain whether it was possible to apply poison to fabric but not prepared to take the risk, and then went downstairs to Carl’s room.

Sure enough the hair tonic bottle was open next to the wash stand, so he put the stopper in and collected that up, too.

Mrs Drayton told him that Carl had now been transferred to her small sitting room, and he found the doctor still tending to him, so passed the bottle over.

‘This may be the culprit.’

The doctor nodded and took out a large handkerchief to handle the item, and then placed it in his medicine bag.

‘I’ll test it and let you know.’

‘Will he pull through?’ Barnabas asked, wringing his hands. Thistlewick House had seen more than its fair share of drama in the last two weeks.

Dr Appleby shrugged. ‘He’s young and strong.

It appears that he only used a small amount…

Maybe,’ he said. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see.

But I’m mightily concerned if the tonic is to blame.

An accident in the manufacturing process, do you think?

Some of these preparations contain the most dubious of ingredients. ’

‘It was a gift, but the sender did not put a name on the card.’

‘Ah, beware of anonymous Greeks bearing gifts.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘This house is becoming quite a dangerous place. Take care, Mr Blackmore.’

Edward knew the poisoning was deliberate. The fact that the note had been so vague and, in his heart, he knew Delphine wouldn’t have divulged his address to anyone. Which meant one unpalatable and disturbing thing: he’d been the intended target.

It was only his generous action of giving the hair tonic away that had saved his life, and possibly cost Carl his.