Chapter Eight
My skirts were damp and my hem was soiled from mud, so I stopped at my room to change into a clean afternoon gown. Recalling that the gas was still not working, I draped a shawl over my shoulders.
On my way downstairs, I was heartened to find Christine and Lissette on the grand staircase, stringing greenery along the banister from the ground floor to the first-floor landing.
It felt like such a normal holiday activity that I considered bringing the children down to take part in their decorating.
Before I could do anything, Lissette caught sight of me, dropped her end of the bough, and ran up the stairs to meet me.
“What happened this morning?” she asked from the step below me, a hand on her hip. “Everyone was gone when Christine and I came down. We went out to collect some holly and whatnot.” She waved a hand at the banister. “And when we returned, there was a body in the conservatory.”
“Careful, Lissette.” Christine, a cheeky grin on her face, approached from the foot of the stairs to stand behind her sister. “Maybe he got in Frances’s way.”
Lissette gasped and made a show of clinging to the banister, causing me to groan. “I had nothing to do with Dr. Penhollow’s present state. And it was Fiona’s decision to have the footmen bring him here.”
“The children couldn’t wait to tell us all about it,” Christine said. “But I don’t know how much of their story was true or embellished by their imaginations.”
“Or a part of their story,” Lissette added. “Did you really find him in the middle of a field?” She and her half sister stared at me, both wearing looks of fascination.
“I can’t believe Fiona hasn’t told you the whole story by now,” I said. “We’ve been home for all of an hour.”
“We keep missing everyone,” Lissette said.
“This is such a large place. After the children left us and went upstairs, we hauled the greenery inside. By the time we looked for you or Cousin Fiona, you were with the children, and she was in her room, changing for dinner.” She wrinkled her nose. “Do we have to change for dinner?”
“You’re fine as you are,” I assured her. “Fiona’s hem was probably wet and muddy from our outing.” I glanced down to see my shawl trailing on the stairs and pulled it back up. “Don’t forget, it’s likely to be chilly downstairs.”
“Somehow we’ve lost the subject,” Christine said. “We still haven’t heard what happened this morning.”
I was growing weary of repeating the story, but these two had every right to know why they were sharing a house with the remains of Dr. Penhollow. I gestured for them to follow me down the stairs and around the corner to the drawing room, where we found Aunt Hetty.
This room faced east and was significantly darker than the staircase had been. But Hetty had a paraffin lamp glowing, and a fire was crackling in the fireplace, which kept the room a little warmer than the hallway, making me wonder if the gasworks would be repaired anytime soon.
The four of us gathered in the chairs near the hearth, and by the time I’d finished relaying the details of our morning and afternoon, Fiona joined us, looking calm and refreshed … until Lissette spoke.
“Is he just going to stay in the conservatory until he rots?”
At that, Fiona turned an unpleasant shade of green and stumbled to the closest chair to seat herself.
“What a thing to say,” I admonished Lissette. “He is here only because his manner of death is questionable and there are no police in the village to take custody of him. I’ll have no further talk of rotting.”
“You might wish to rest your head on your knees, Fiona dear,” Hetty said.
Fiona, looking a little better, waved away the advice. “We hope to have a doctor here tomorrow,” she said.
“A little late for that, wouldn’t you say?” Christine asked.
“The doctor will examine him and determine how he died.” My tone was stern, but honestly, the children’s reaction was preferable to this. “There is no reason for either of you to enter the conservatory, so his presence should have no effect on your activities.”
“And you wouldn’t want to,” Hetty said with a shiver. “As cold as it is in here, the conservatory is a veritable icehouse.”
“I hadn’t thought it was that cold in the house,” I lied, seeing Fiona’s stricken expression. She would never want to think her guests were uncomfortable.
“That reminds me,” Fiona said, rising to her feet.
“I was informed that the gasworks is back up and working as of thirty minutes ago. The servants have started up the boilers for the radiators, so you should be cozy soon.” She turned a knob near the door, and the wall sconces glowed with light, bringing a cheer from Lissette and Christine.
Fiona had left the door to the drawing room ajar when she’d entered, and as she moved past, it swung open farther to reveal Carter. With military precision, he stepped toward Fiona and presented her with a silver tray that held a visiting card. She took the card. “Mr. Isaac Penhollow,” she read.
I could see Lissette’s startled reaction and held up a hand for her to be still before she could wail about the dead man dropping off his calling card. “The late Dr. Penhollow’s given name is Joshua,” I said softly, then turned to Fiona. “Who would this be, Fiona? A relation?”
“His brother,” she said, then glanced at the card. “Yes, the direction on the card is Cambridge, and Dr. Penhollow has a brother there.” She let her hand fall to her side. “I assume he is visiting for the Christmas season. Whatever are we to tell him?”
“The fact that he’s calling on you rather than his family could mean he already knows,” Hetty said.
Fiona looked unconvinced. “He must be passing by Hadley Grange on his way to Penhollow Manor. Last year he stopped here to share a dram with Robert before joining his brother’s family.”
“Then if he hasn’t already heard the dreadful news,” I said, “we shall simply have to tell him what we know.” I glanced at Lissette and Christine. “You two might prefer to excuse yourselves before Carter brings Mr. Penhollow in.”
Given the alacrity with which they vacated the room, I gathered they would much rather leave than attend this solemn and potentially fraught meeting. Once they were gone, Carter left to retrieve Mr. Penhollow while the three of us arranged ourselves by the door to receive him.
Mr. Penhollow appeared to be a few years younger than his late brother, taller, broader of chest, and far more fit, with a thick head of caramel-brown hair lightly dusted with gray.
His broad face held a kind expression. After Fiona welcomed him, she introduced Hetty and me.
He wished us a happy Christmas, and we exchanged a few pleasantries, then invited him to take a seat in one of the chairs circling the fire.
Once he did, we were at a loss as to how to proceed.
His easy manner and cheerful disposition indicated that he was sadly unaware of his brother’s fate.
“Are you just now in from Cambridge?” Fiona asked. Her tone indicated she hoped that was not the case.
“I am in from Swaffham,” he replied. “Where I stayed last night with my niece and her family. And I’m pleased to note that the gale has not left as much damage in the village as I saw in the surrounding area.
” His expression darkened as he shook his head.
“As I rode from Swaffham, I could see trees down, as well as telephone wires. Some of the roads are all but washed away. I observed several crews of men out attempting to put things to rights. I can only assume conditions are worse as one approaches the coast.”
“That is our understanding,” Fiona said. “Only this morning Sergeant Hewitt enlisted the aid of Sir Robert and Mr. Hazelton to restore things near Happisburg and Walcott. It is good to know so many are working to restore order.”
“That is very good of them. Once I arrived in the village, I considered doubling back to lend my assistance, but I thought to check on my relatives first. If all is well at Penhollow Manor, perhaps my brother and I will join your husbands in their work.” He smiled as he nodded to both of us.
The mention of his brother meant there could be no more putting it off.
“Forgive me, Mr. Penhollow,” I said, deciding that it wasn’t right to put the responsibility of disclosure on Fiona. Again. “I must share with you some distressing news about your brother.”
He turned an intent gaze on me, lips quirking in an attempt to smile. “Whatever could you mean?”
“I’m afraid Dr. Penhollow has passed away.”
His expression immediately became one of alarm. “Joshua? Are you certain of this?”
I drew a deep breath. “We have already informed Mrs. Penhollow and your niece—”
“You informed them?” His gaze bounced between the three of us, as if he feared this was some awful joke and learning that it most certainly was not. “How was it that you knew before they did?”
“Hetty, would you be so kind as to fetch Mr. Penhollow some brandy?” Fiona asked. “There is some in that cabinet right there.”
Hetty jumped to her task. I hoped she’d bring a glass for each of us.
Fiona leaned toward Mr. Penhollow and placed a comforting hand on his sleeve.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said, “but we found him ourselves on our way to the village earlier today. He was lifeless, in the field that marks the end of our property. Whatever had happened, we were too late. There was naught we could do for him.”
He gratefully took the glass of brandy Hetty offered him and drained it.
He must have needed it for the shock. Fortunately, Hetty had thought to bring the bottle and refilled his glass, along with filling one for herself.
He left the second brandy untouched and, with an elbow on the arm of the chair, dropped his forehead into his palm.
“I can hardly believe it,” he said. Slowly he lifted his head and looked at Fiona. “Do you know how he died?”
“We do not,” I said before Fiona could elaborate. “His wife and daughter told us he had no medical conditions that they were aware of.”
“They would know more about that than I, but what else could it be? Surely, he must have overexerted himself and succumbed to a weak heart or some such.” He came to his feet, a fist to his mouth, as if struggling to restrain his emotions.
He took a few steps away from us, then turned back.
“This is a rather indelicate question to ask, but may I assume you saw no signs of injury to his person?”
“There were no obvious signs,” I said, “but neither did we examine him thoroughly. We are hoping to have a doctor here by tomorrow to do just that and determine the cause of your brother’s death.”
His gaze intensified at my words. “Here? Do you mean to tell me my brother’s … remains are here? In this house?”
Fiona flinched, as if feeling a sting of criticism from his words. “We could hardly leave him in the field, sir.”
“No, I did not mean to suggest—”
“And considering Dr. Penhollow was the coroner for this district, that left us with only the local authorities to contact, who are all out clearing roads and restoring order in the path of the storm,” Fiona went on, cutting him off.
Mr. Penhollow pursed his lips, chastened but unwilling to cede his ground. “Yes, of course I understand they are occupied elsewhere, but surely the undertaker might have examined him and turned him over to the custody of his wife. I can see no reason for my brother’s body to be here.”
Fiona’s cheeks had grown quite pink. I thought it best to step in before she gave way to anger.
“We have already spoken with the undertaker,” I said.
“It is not his practice to make any examination of the deceased. Nor does he house them. It is his job to arrange for burial and build coffins. As for bringing him to Mrs. Penhollow, we had already moved him once. We did not want to spoil any potential evidence by moving him a second time. Our only option was to wait for a doctor.”
Though I had hoped to calm Mr. Penhollow, I was clearly unsuccessful. “Evidence of what?” he asked. “Are you saying you believe someone attacked him in that field? Did you not already tell me you saw no signs of injury?”
“We are not doctors,” I said. “We saw signs that Dr. Penhollow may not have been the only one in that field. It is difficult to believe someone else came upon him and simply turned around and left, so yes, it is possible someone else caused his death, which is why we want a doctor to examine his body.” I wondered how many times I would have to repeat that phrase before a doctor actually arrived.
“Since my husband is the local magistrate,” Fiona said, “I’m certain he’d want a qualified physician to determine how your brother died before surrendering the body to his wife or the undertaker.”
“I would think that you and his wife would want that, too,” I added.
“We do not wish to cause his family pain,” Fiona said in a softer voice. “But in my husband’s absence, I feel it’s my duty to move cautiously and within the law. Surely, you understand?”
He sighed. “I suppose I must. You say you are expecting a doctor tomorrow?”
“We are,” I said. “One of Lady Fiona’s servants is standing by the doctor’s side, ready to bring him to us as soon as he is free.” At least I hoped that was the case.
“That will have to do,” he said, his tone becoming crisp and cool. “You will send us word when he has made his determination so that we can make the necessary arrangements?”
“Of course,” Fiona agreed.
“Then I suppose I will be off to see how my sister-in-law does.” He bid us farewell as we walked with him to the entry hall and saw him out the door.
“This will be a very sad holiday for their family, I’m afraid,” Fiona said as we left the cold hall for the comparative warmth of the drawing room.
“Possibly,” Hetty muttered.
Fiona and I both turned to her with inquiring gazes.
“While the three of you were talking, I was observing,” she said. “Don’t you think it odd that he didn’t ask to see the body?”
Fiona shrugged. “I wouldn’t have asked to see it, either.”
But I could see what Hetty was hinting at. “I would have asked had I been in his situation. Had I traveled from afar to spend the holiday with my brother and his family, stopped to call at his neighbors’ home first to wish them good cheer, only to have them tell me my brother was dead.”
Fiona furrowed her brow while Hetty gave me a knowing smile.
“Not only dead,” I continued, “but possibly murdered, found in a field, and was at that moment in the very home in which I was standing. I would have wanted to see him for myself before I believed such a story.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” Fiona said slowly, “I would not believe it without seeing him, either. And while Mr. Penhollow questioned our methods, he quite obviously believed us.”
“Yes,” Hetty said. “It’s almost as if he already knew.”
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. That doctor from Aylsham couldn’t get here quickly enough for my comfort.