Chapter Nine #2
“That’s all right. Mr Pritchard’s been very accommodating.
I guess if he wants me to give you a hand…
.” He struck a match and started that desperate puffing that eventually results in a lit pipe.
Sometimes. Pausing in mid-puff, he asked, “What sort of information are you looking for? What sort of articles do you write?” He sounded annoyed and a trifle defensive.
Why defensive? Not that she was after scandal, but in any case, if the Appsworths had wasted their last pennies in riotous living, it was no skin off his nose, nor Pritchard’s. What exactly was his interest in the Appsworths’ history?
The only explanation she could think of was that he’d found a really good story and wanted to keep it for a scoop of his own. But what had brought him to Appsworth Hall in the first place? All the way from Canada!
Curiouser and curiouser.
Armitage struck a fourth match as he and Daisy followed the others into a surprisingly spacious room. At last the tobacco caught and blue smoke wafted up. Alec smoked a pipe and Daisy didn’t mind the smell as much as cigarette smoke, or worst of all, cigars.
They were followed in turn by the Wandersleys, Rhino, and Howell. They were all smoking, Rhino waving his cigarette holder as he made some vehement remark Daisy didn’t catch. She hoped the hermit’s lair was well ventilated.
“Well,” said Armitage, “what about this article of yours?”
“I’ll tell you later. Hush, I want to hear what Mr. Pritchard has to say.
” She moved closer, notebook in hand. Armitage went over to a small wardrobe—brought in in pieces, presumably, given the hazards of the path—and shrugged out of his habit.
Emerging in his dinner jacket, he hung up the robe and headed towards Julia like a moth to a woolly jumper.
Pritchard, meanwhile, said with pride, “You wouldn’t guess it started as another natural cave, would you? The workmen broke through into it by accident when we were dolling up the second cave.”
He turned out to be a good storyteller. He made finding the cave and exploring it sound almost like a Rider Haggard adventure. Even Rhino listened. Daisy took a few notes, on both the original discovery and the resulting room.
With ten people in it, the room felt crowded, but for its intended solitary inhabitant it was more than adequate.
Apart from the lack of a window, it could have been anywhere.
Though there was no natural light, the plain white walls made it bright, and rush matting gave it an air of comfort.
Against one wall was a divan bed covered with a counterpane in a jazzy blue-and-green pattern.
Two Windsor chairs flanked a deal table.
A gas fire dispelled the subterranean chill.
“As you see,” Pritchard continued, “we’ve laid on gas.
There’s good natural ventilation, luckily.
” With the flourish of a conjuror, he drew aside a curtain to reveal a wash-basin and a copper geyser.
“And hot and cold running water. This is one of the same new-style safety geysers as we have in the house. Unless the water supply is turned on, the gas won’t turn on, so it’s not likely to blow up from steam pressure and practically impossible for it to get hot enough to melt down. ”
His nephew started to explain the technical details. Daisy’s mind wandered.
A row of paperback books on a shelf nearby made her squint to read the titles. Thrillers and detective stories! It was all very well Lucy saying she was obsessed with murder. Not only was it untrue, she wasn’t the only one by a long chalk.
Carlin asked about the ventilation. He seemed to be the only person still concentrating on what Pritchard and Howell had to say.
Julia, Lucy, and the hermit were chatting in low voices.
Armitage’s pipe appeared to be giving him trouble; he was striking match after match, and puffing away without apparent effect.
Daisy decided one reason she didn’t mind pipe smoke was that pipe-smokers so rarely actually managed to keep their tobacco alight for long.
Lady Ottaline had sat down on one of the chairs. She had her husband and Lord Rydal in attendance. As Daisy glanced that way, Rhino was staring hungrily at Julia. He started towards her, only to be called back by Lady Ottaline.
“Rhino, darling, you’ll take me back to the house, won’t you? I’m getting frightfully cold. I do believe my toes are frostbitten.”
With obvious reluctance, Rhino turned.
“Those shoes!” Sir Desmond said testily. “You’ll be colder outside. Just wait till everyone’s ready to leave.”
Pritchard couldn’t help but have heard Lady Ottaline’s complaint. Fortunately, he seemed to be amused, rather than justifiably affronted. “Owen, we’ve got carried away by our hobby-horses again. Time we were heading back to the house.”
Howell took out a gold pocket-watch. “Good lord, yes, Uncle. Mother will be worrying about when to serve coffee. I’ll show you the rest later,” he added to Carlin. “We’ve the same machine in the house, and I already promised to demonstrate it to Mrs. Fletcher.”
“Thank you, sir,” the young civil servant said with every appearance of delight. He should rise high in his chosen profession.
Daisy, however, had decided against an article on modern inventions.
“Coffee!” exclaimed Lady Ottaline. “Bliss! Anything hot. I’d even drink cocoa. Rhino!” She grabbed his arm as he once again drifted towards Julia, who was on the way out with Armitage, heads together. “I’ll need your support on those dreadful steps.”
“You can take my arm, Ottaline,” said Sir Desmond. “It sufficed on the way up.”
“But darling, these ridiculous shoes! I shan’t feel safe without a strong arm.”
The three of them followed Julia and Armitage, who had retrieved a lamplighter’s pole from the niche behind one of the naiads. Lucy, Daisy, Carlin, and Pritchard went next, with Howell bringing up the rear, making sure all the gas fixtures were safely turned off.
Carlin went first down the steps. “I’ll catch you if you slip,” he told Lucy and Daisy.
Pritchard was close behind Daisy. One hand on the railing, she looked back to say to him, speaking loudly, over the sound of falling water, “Such a good idea to illuminate the cascade. I’m glad you persuaded us to come out in the dark.”
“So am I,” he said with a grin, “even though you spoilt my little surprise.”
“I shan’t spoil the surprise when I write about your ghostly hermit,” she promised. “Unless you’d rather I gave away the secret so that you don’t get too many people coming to see the ghost for themselves?”
“I enjoy visitors. Make it as mysterious as you like.” As they reached the bottom of the steps, Pritchard stopped and said, “Put your fingers in your ears, Mrs. Fletcher. I have to signal to Owen that we’re all down and he can turn off the waterfall lights.”
“Oh, of course, you won’t want them burning all night.”
Even with her fingers in her ears, Daisy heard his piercing whistle. One by one the lights went out. The tumbling water still caught some light from the cave mouth above, then that too was extinguished. The only light was from the lamp where the path curved round the bluff.
Daisy’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the lower level of light. In that moment, cutting through the waterfall’s hypnotic roar, someone screamed.
Daisy had a confused impression of flailing arms and legs tumbling off the path towards the stream below.