Page 24 of The Peculiar Incident at Thistlewick House
The calendar slipped into November and only the beech trees clung to their copper-coloured leaves.
Somehow, Edward had been in Thistlewick Tye for nearly three weeks when he’d only ever intended to stay one night.
So much had changed in that short time, however.
He no longer felt quite so bitter towards Barnabas; he was soon to be a man of independent means; and the lie that he’d built his entire livelihood around had turned out to be true, after all. Spirits really did exist.
Dr Appleby dropped by to confirm the hair tonic contained strychnine, having injected some under the skin of a frog and witnessed the same spasms. It proved that someone wished Edward harm but, whereas previously in his life he’d shied away from danger, he felt strangely compelled to stay and fight.
Constable Lovett called round a couple of days later to question Edward over who could have sent the basket.
He was tempted to reply that the spirit of a long-dead circus performer might have possessed one of the villagers and tampered with the contents.
But perhaps someone else had been taken over by a malevolent ghost. Maude claimed at least four skulls had fallen, so it was possible four souls had been exposed.
But in the end, Lovett couldn’t trace the anonymous sender so didn’t take the matter further.
He did, however, suggest Mr Blackmore might be safer in London, giving the distinct impression that he, like the reverend, would be pleased to see Edward leave Thistlewick.
Carl’s recovery was slow, but Edward was perfectly capable of shaving and dressing himself – it was more than a gentleman in his position was expected to have a man, and it made things easier for him. Wright offered to step in, but even Barnabas knew his cousin wouldn’t accept.
Reassuring Delphine that her brother was on the mend, Edward wrote to instruct her to clear his diary for the foreseeable future.
Knowing her detective skills to be nearly as good as her brother’s, although her methods were decidedly less dubious, he also asked her to find out what she could about Samson’s Circus of Astonishing Spectacles.
Within three days she’d written back, enclosing a newspaper clipping from April 1856, when concerns were raised about their disappearance.
Most of the troupe had cut ties with their families, they owned no property and paid no rents, but when the season started up again that spring, it was fellow showmen who’d noticed their absence.
MISSING CIRCUS!
Concerns are growing for Samson’s Circus of Astonishing Spectacles, which has not been heard of since last winter.
The small troupe were seen travelling through East Anglia in the autumn and there have been subsequent rumours that they secured passage on a ship bound for the Russian Empire.
Fellow circus owner and competitor, Kingsley Heath, said it was unusual for Samson Ballard not to convene in London at the start of the season.
Mr and Mrs Ferris, known for their stilt walking and contortionist acts, had expected Mr Ballard to be in contact with a view to renewing their contracts and are also anxious to hear from them.
If anyone has information regarding their whereabouts, the editor of this paper would be most pleased to hear from you.
Edward was now convinced that the bodies were from this missing circus but still had no idea why they’d ended up in a pit on the Thistlewick Tye common.
Perhaps there had been in-fighting amongst the performers and some had turned on the others; it was well known that there was no honour amongst thieves.
Could those responsible then have sailed for foreign shores, in order to escape justice?
That would back up Mrs Cleyford’s story that they’d headed to King’s Lynn.
But if they’d been killed by their own, why were they coming back in spirit form to perpetrate such terrible acts against the villagers?
Edward’s thoughts returned to Maude. Having not seen her for a few days, he wondered if the younger Garrod brother had done away with her and was living at her cottage – which was isolated enough for him to do so undetected.
Mrs Drayton had heard rumours that Noah had not turned up to work for over a week, and she wondered if the trauma of his brother’s death might have turned his mind.
Efforts had been made to track him down but had been unsuccessful, so Edward decided to investigate, especially as he was pretty certain no one else cared enough to check if Mrs Grimmer was still alive.
He chose the coastal route again, curious to see if anything else had been exposed in the cliffs.
But as he stepped onto the beach from the Thistlewick Rift he saw her familiar figure scuttling about on the shoreline.
The tide was in again and the sand was a thin, flint-scattered ribbon running between the sea and the cliffs. Noah hadn’t murdered her then.
‘Mrs Grimmer!’ he called out. She lifted her head, saw him and immediately began to hurry westwards. But he was determined to get answers from her this time. Had Noah said anything to her about a circus? ‘I need to speak to you.’
He began to gain on her until they hit a patch of flints.
She was far more used to scrabbling across these slippery rocks than him and her swift feet skittered over them.
The uneven surface caused him to wobble a couple of times, as they were wet from earlier rain and slimy from the seaweed, making his journey hazardous.
Such was his desperation to reach her before she could disappear up to the cottage and lock the door on him, that he wasn’t concentrating properly and caught his foot, tumbling forward, unable to prevent the inevitable.
There was a searing pain across his ribcage and the agonising crack of his right hip smacking into stone.
His involuntary cry alerted her to his distress, and she spun around to gauge the situation, her hood falling to her shoulders.
His top hat had tumbled to the ground in the fall and he groaned again as it rolled towards the sea.
Panicking, he sat up and smoothed his hair back into place, then looked down at his white shirt and noticed the thick red stain where he’d cut himself on a jagged piece of rusty metal wedged between two of the flints.
The wound stung like hell and he was embarrassed to find himself in such a vulnerable position.
Momentarily winded, he didn’t have the energy to get to his feet as she approached.
A strong breeze coming from the sea blew the loose tendrils of her silver-streaked hair across her face, and she angrily swept them away, but her concern for Edward was apparent.
‘Are you hurt?’ She crouched next to him and her hands went to his chest, hovering above the bloodstain, wary of touching him, and looking for permission to investigate his injury.
‘I’m fine. Leave me be.’ He couldn’t have her manhandling him but, equally, he couldn’t hide the agony he was in, as his face scrunched up and a stab of pain forced deep grooves to appear across his forehead.
‘That’s a lot of blood and I need to see how deep the wound is.
’ She wasn’t taking no for an answer. At the mercy of her investigations, because of the way he’d fallen, Edward could only stare, open-mouthed, as Maude reached over to his shirt.
It was tucked into his trousers, but she slid it upwards to assess the extent of the damage.
When she saw the trails of hairs leading down to his groin, and those scattered across his chest, however, she paused.
Their eyes met and he knew that his secret was out.
‘It’s a nasty gash and it’s deep.’ Lifting up her thick woollen skirt, she tore a strip of cotton from the hem of her underskirt and rolled it into a pad.
‘Press this on the wound.’ He did as she bid.
‘We’re only a little way from my cottage.
I’ve ointments and bandages, and a basic understanding of healing.
How’s your ankle? Can you bear weight on it? ’
She got to her feet and put out her hand, saying nothing of what she’d seen.
He stared at it and then shook his head to refuse her offer, feeling even more vulnerable than before.
‘You wanted to speak to me so badly you’ve raced recklessly across these slippery rocks and injured yourself. I’m offering to take you to my home, a place I don’t allow anyone to enter, where you can do just that. Your refusal makes no sense.’
Her hand remained outstretched.
‘You have Noah there.’
‘Not everything with that man is as it seems, but it would appear you have secrets, too, Mr Blackmore. I’m not sure why you are so determined to dig about in things that don’t concern you, especially as I overheard there was an attempt on your life, but I think p’rhaps it’s about time we had a civil conversation and I’ll share with you some of what I know.
Noah is long gone, so are you coming or not? ’
The pain was getting worse and his choices were limited.
Return to the village, where the doctor would inevitably be called, but he didn’t want Dr Appleby seeing his chest any more than he’d been happy about Maude seeing him so exposed.
Go with this difficult and insular woman, and assess whether she was likely to divulge his secret – or at least ascertain if she planned to blackmail him for keeping the information about his condition to herself.
Or return to Thistlewick House, deal with the injury to the best of his ability, and ignore the pain – and, frankly, it was a pain he couldn’t ignore.
Returning with her to the cottage would at least prove whether her words were true and Noah had left. And she was offering to share information with him. What was he so afraid of?
Refusing her help, he managed to push himself up.
His ankle would bruise but it wasn’t broken and he began to make his way to the large patch of flat sand beyond the rocks.
But he’d got to his feet too quickly and felt himself sway.
Maude noticed his moment of dizziness and slipped herself under his left arm, taking some of his weight and guiding him towards the gap in the cliffs.
Together, they made their way up the shallow bank and stumbled along the path to her home. His chest was throbbing like crazy, but he no longer cared about concealing his truth if she could only give him something to ease the pain.