Page 6 of The Peculiar Incident at Thistlewick House

Edward felt uncomfortable. She’d often teased him for his supposed gifts, unlike Barnabas, who’d always been so gullible – firmly believing his younger cousin could converse with the dead.

It would have been no act on her part, but unlike his cousin, he didn’t believe she’d been possessed.

It was a ridiculous notion and, even though he couldn’t be absolutely certain spirits didn’t exist, he’d certainly never encountered one.

To his mind, people simply found it too unpalatable to accept that everything ceased with your death, and the spiritualist movement had grown from this fear.

But the existence of a soul separate to the physical body was scientifically doubtful.

Most mediums he’d encountered were blatant frauds, like himself, although he had attended a couple of unnerving séances that he’d never satisfactorily explained.

‘But if she’d recovered from the fever, even if she was confused and suffering from delusions, what caused her to pass away?’ Edward suddenly realised no explanation had been offered for her death. Hadn’t his cousin indicated that she’d survived the worst of the fever? A relapse, perhaps?

Barnabas slumped into the chair opposite his cousin and it was obvious that talking about her final moments was difficult, as his voice began to crack.

‘She was found yesterday morning with a syringe of morphia beside her on the bedcovers. Dr Appleby raised the alarm. I rushed in as soon as I heard the commotion and truly think it was the worst few moments of my entire existence, grabbing her limp hand and trying to rouse her. She looked so perfect, her pale pink cheeks and closed eyelids making it seem as though she were merely asleep.’

It was hard for Edward to watch as the tears streamed down his cousin’s face.

He couldn’t summon up the satisfaction that he wanted to feel at seeing the man suffer.

His grief was real and raw and, had they not shared an uncomfortable past, he might even have reached across to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

‘Dr Appleby could only conclude that her mind had been so deranged that she didn’t know what she was doing.

She must have accessed his medicine bag and stolen the box of morphia.

We’d all witnessed him frantically searching for it the previous evening, only to assume that he’d left it at the surgery. ’

So, Emma had decided to end it all. Perhaps she’d had enough about her to realise she was spiralling into madness and had taken the opportunity to avoid further suffering. How unbelievably tragic.

A manservant entered with a tray of tea but Barnabas looked across and waved him away.

‘Fetch us both a proper drink, Wright. My cousin is partial to absinthe. And ask the housekeeper to make up one of the guest rooms. If you could also tell Cook there’s a gentleman staying for dinner and to order more food in for next week, I’d appreciate it. ’

But Edward had arrived too late to save Emma, and his scheme to extract money from his cousin had been scuppered by her tragic death, so there was no reason for him to remain in Thistlewick Tye.

‘There’s no need. I won’t be staying more than one night. You’re my cousin by an accident of birth but we’re not friends, Barnabas. You know that. Besides, as you so correctly pointed out, I’m too late.’

There was no love lost between them, and it was only the severity of the situation that had forced Barnabas to call on him.

So why would his cousin want to prolong the visit now that she’d passed away?

He had no desire to remain at Thistlewick House longer than absolutely necessary, preferring to return to London to deal with his grief privately.

His cousin’s hands were clenched into tight fists and there was a grim determination in the set of his jaw.

‘But I need answers, Edward. The spirits of both my wife and whoever possessed her surely remain in this house and, with your gift, you can contact them.’ He thumped at the arms of his high-backed chair with his palms. ‘Damn it, man, I’m begging you to get those answers for me.

I need to talk to her again… I need to understand… I need to say goodbye.’

Wright approached with the drinks on a tray.

Barnabas swept up the brandy and took several large gulps, as Edward took a small sip of his favoured green spirit.

It burned his throat but helped to sharpen his thinking.

Could he still extract some money from his cousin and make him pay for the past?

Or would he get greater pleasure – a joy that you couldn’t put a price on – by refusing?

It would be payback for everything that had happened all those years ago.

‘I appreciate the offer of a bed for the night but there is no sum of money that can undo your betrayal. I came to be of help to Emma and I’m as broken as you are that she has gone, but I leave tomorrow.’

Barnabas lurched forward.

‘This is exactly why I need you – why Emma needs you. There are things going on here that you don’t understand.

We must get to the truth, Edward. I have long suspected that there is an evil presence in Thistlewick Tye, spiritual or otherwise, and I don’t have the strength or the skills to seek it out by myself. ’

Edward sighed. ‘She was lost to her own mind, Barnabas, and made the tragic decision to end her life. There is nothing I can do for her now that she has gone.’ He felt sorry for the man, having to bear the shame that his wife had taken her own life, but Emma’s delirium would make people more sympathetic.

‘I don’t think you understand.’ Barnabas leaned forward, staring at Edward with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. ‘The hastily arranged inquest this morning may have returned a verdict of suicide whilst of unsound mind, but I am absolutely convinced that Emma was murdered.’