Holmes for the Holidays Read online

  'Not about the body, but I found no knapsack. How did he carry two bottles of champagne, a pie, a joint of mutton and the brandy, not to speak of an alpenstock?'

  'That is simply answered: Rosie used it to carry the meat and brandy to her cottage.'

  He stopped and looked back. You cannot return to her now,' I said. 'Wait until the snow stops.'

  'Go to Swithins and send a groom with a spare horse to the girl's cottage. Do not mention our discovery. I need to observe their reactions. Hurry, Watson, there is no time to be lost.' He bounded away, in a moment as insubstantial as a phantom.

  Mrs Aubrey was supervising the decoration of the large room where the children's party was to be held. There was a spruce tree, mounds of holly and boxes overflowing with pretty baubles. She heard me out with disapproval but she was too well mannered to ask why Holmes should be at Rosie Yewdale's cottage. "Pursuing his enquiries" was how I put it. She ordered that a horse be taken to him immediately.

  After the groom had left, I turned back to the stables, where a boy was sweeping out the empty stalls. 'I thought all hands were needed for the party,' I said pleasantly. He was a sharp-looking lad and he stood to attention when addressed.

  'I had to saddle the ponies, sir. I shall go in to help when I finish here.' He followed my gaze to a handsome grey eyeing us through the bars of a box. 'That be Miz' Aubrey's mare: the prettiest horse at Swithins, and my lady be the best rider. Why, her even stuck on when Sheba there tried to throw her at back end.'

  I considered the grey's intelligent eye. 'She doesn't look a nervous horse.'

  'Her's steady as a rock, but what horse wouldna be startled at a shot fired by her ear?'

  'What!'

  He gaped and swung round, blundering against the side of the stall. 'Hold up there,' I said calmly. He stood rigid. 'Was it a poacher?' I asked. 'And you were told to keep quiet?' He muttered something. 'Speak up, lad.' I was sharp now.

  'I said as it were a poacher.' He wouldn't meet my eye.

  'And what did others say?'

  'They searched the woods. It's said there were no poacher.'

  'So who fired the shot?'

  He looked on the verge of tears. 'They said she imagined it.'

  I could get no more out of him and I went into the great barn and communed with the rabbits until Holmes returned, white as a snowman, and shed his outer garments in the stable. I was avid to know the result of his talk with Rosie but he hushed me. "Walls have ears," he whispered.

  Mrs. Aubrey received us in the drawing room. Daw was still there, as if she anticipated bad news and had need of support. Holmes told her simply that, as had been suspected, her husband had fallen from the lofty path. She sat stiffly, her face like stone, one hand pressed to her bosom. Daw took the other. 'We were afraid of it, my dear,' he said gently. He turned to Holmes. 'It is still a dreadful shock,' he added meaningly.

  I rang the bell and when the butler appeared, sent him for brandy and water. At that the lady addressed me. 'Thank you, Doctor. And you, Mr Holmes. If you would inform Mr Daw of the location of the—of my husband, he will make arrangements.'

  'I shall attend to everything,' he assured her. 'You must go and rest now. There is nothing to worry about.'

  Holmes and I returned to the tower on a couple of trusty ponies, leaving Daw to oversee the removal of the body to the village to await the coroner. There was no sign of the road along the lake-shore but the ponies had no more trouble with it than if it had been marked by stakes. It was still snowing and we rode in silence. At the tower, changed into dry clothing and invigorated by hot toddies, we drew up to the roaring fire and regarded each other quizzically. 'So how did Aubrey carry all that food?' I asked.

  Holmes nodded. 'The nub of the problem. Rosie is devious but her mind runs on one track. I asked her who reached the cabin first. She thought about her answer. She should not have needed to think. When she realised that she said quickly that it was herself, but her own long silence had rattled her, and subsequent questions were answered too fast. She betrayed herself. Did he take the knapsack away? I asked. She looked blank and then said she didn't know. It was not with the body, I told her, nor in the cabin, so it must be with her. She ignored this and asked where the body was. She appeared deeply shocked when I told her. I asked her to produce the knapsack and she claimed she did not know what I was talking about. I asked how she carried the mutton and brandy home on Tuesday night—and then, Watson, she thwarted me! She said that it was another night she was at the cabin; she had been mistaken, she said, and then confided that she had an addiction to drink and was often in an alcoholic stupor. I ignored that as an obvious lie and asked her where she was on the Tuesday night, thinking I had her to rights. She said she was home. Could that be substantiated? She looked at me boldly and said, "Oh, yes, sir, I was with one of the grooms from Swithins. All night." In fact, she held a party for several of the Swithins servants. The fellow that brought the pony for me bore her out. She has an unbreakable alibi—but that knapsack! Aubrey carried the food to the cabin in some container. Where is it? And why is it important?'

  'But his death was surely an accident!' I exclaimed. 'He fell from the path.' Holmes was silent, staring into the flames. 'A stable lad told me something curious,' I told him. 'In the autumn Mrs Aubrey came in with a story that someone had fired a gun close by when she was riding, and her mare had nearly thrown her. No poacher was found. Pigeons flying up could have startled the mare, and the clatter they make might be misconstrued as a shot by an unbalanced mind. It is a symptom of monomania that the sufferer believes himself surrounded by enemies. What do you think, Holmes?'

  'I think we must speak to Daw. He is as close to her as anyone.'

  'Is he her lover?'

  'No, a lover would be discreet. He took her hand quite openly when I informed her of her husband's death.'

  A door slammed and the man himself came tramping into the hall, shedding snow and shouting for grog. He addressed us as he threw off his hat and cape. 'I sent up two of the most nimble fellows and they lowered the body with ropes.' He shook his head.

  'To say I'm sorry would be hypocritical; I cannot but feel that man received his deserts.'

  'He treated her abominably,' Holmes murmured. Daw looked at him sharply but at that moment the servant entered with a steaming jug and fresh glasses.

  'I see they've been looking after you.' Daw regarded our depleted tray. 'But you will join me now in a glass of grog. Only the best Jamaica rum, gentlemen.'

  Holmes accepted but refused to be diverted. 'Watson is making a study of monomania,' he said. 'A form of madness.'

  'Servants' gossip!' Daw blurted.

  'It is more than that.'

  Daw's shoulders slumped. 'Aubrey was to blame. His recent behaviour would drive anyone mad. Rosie Yewdale! On his own doorstep! His wife's position was untenable. And Minnie. The child is sharp; it could not be long before it reached her ears. But there,' he cried. 'What could be done?' He became aware of our attentive silence and suddenly his whole demeanor changed and he beamed in great amusement. 'Minnie helped bring in the Yule log last week,' he began, for all the world as if to embark on a piece of family tittle-tattle. 'She caught a chill, and on the Tuesday Helen—Mrs Aubrey—kept her indoors. By Tuesday evening the child had a fever and her mother never left her side until Wednesday morning. How do I know? Because Minnie's room can be approached only through another, and that is occupied by her old nurse, who is a light sleeper. Moreover, she was wide awake during the night and she could see her mistress reclining on a couch by Minnie's bedside. There was a night-light. I know because when I called on Wednesday morning the nurse was coming downstairs to make her small charge a hot drink.'

  'Where were you last Tuesday week?' Holmes asked.

  Our host sighed. 'I supped with Sir Humphrey Spooner at Troutbeck and we played cards until three in the morning, when we went to our beds. I stayed the night there,' he added carelessly. 'Come clean now, Holmes; you suspect Aubrey was
helped on his way to his much-deserved death, but how can you hope to prove it—and do you care? You have solved the riddle of the fellow's disappearance, you have earned your fee; what more do you want?'

  'Resolution. I put up the fox, I have to run it to earth.' 'You will have plenty of time for it.' Daw was indulgent. 'They say the roads are blocked by great drifts. We shall have the pleasure of your company over the holiday.'

  This was no disaster as far as we were concerned, and we were off to a good start when it transpired that we were invited to Swithins the following day, Christmas Eve, where we were to take tea and stay for cards and dinner.

  It was four o'clock when we reached Swithins the following afternoon, travelling with Daw's men and their families, the babies swaddled in shawls. The riders took it in turns to break the trail for the road was deeply drifted.

  Mrs Aubrey greeted us with raised chin and steady eyes. Minnie was at her side, enchanting in deep blue velvet.

  We were served tea. The talk was of Swithins in summer, while I said something of my lighter moments in Afghanistan. There was no mention of Aubrey. Occasionally we heard bursts of merriment from a distance and shortly a buxom person entered, Minnie's old nurse, and took her away to the party.

  'Minnie shall play hostess,' said her mother. 'We will join her later for distribution of the gifts.'

  I found myself inexpressibly touched. An old warrior, a doctor, twice married (but childless)—'I should enjoy that,' I said eagerly, and Holmes glanced at me in surprise.

  'Of course. Doctor,' said Mrs Aubrey. Everyone is invited.' The atmosphere was permeated with good humour. I could not help but feel that Swithins had lost not its master, but an incubus.

  When the butler came to summon us we trooped out, Holmes with a gleam in his eye, and a jaunty step that had me puzzled; apart from the urchins of the Baker Street Irregulars, he has no interest in children. When we came to the room where the party was in progress, he settled himself against the wall near the big spruce tree and watched the proceedings keenly.

  As for the partygoers, children from both estates and the village, they had eyes only for their gifts and their young hostess. Minnie was composed and clearly enjoying herself as she took the gifts from the young stable lad (scrubbed until he shone) and presented them with a few words for each recipient. Again I found myself ridiculously affected and, glancing away, caught Mrs Aubrey's eye. There was that in her look that was more than love, more than pride; there was a fierce watchfulness, a kind of triumph, and it sent a shiver through my bowels.

  They had pulled back the drapes and I noticed Mrs Aubrey look towards a window. She stiffened and her expression resolved itself into one of unadulterated hatred. Rosie Yewdale was at the window, her brilliant face framed by the scarlet hood, her lips parted, her eyes alight with pleasure. She seemed fascinated by the Christmas tree, but now, as if feeling the fire of Mrs Aubrey's regard, she shifted her gaze, caught that obsessed glare, and was gone.

  I was saddened. Whatever she was, Rosie was another childless soul, and for a moment I felt something like kinship. Christmas is a sentimental season.

  Later that evening we dined on roast pork and hothouse fruits. Minnie was at table as a special concession but the ladies left us to our port quite early, Mrs Aubrey pleading the exertions of tomorrow. Daw was beginning to feel the effects of fine wines, and even I was not fully in command of my senses, nevertheless I did not fail to notice Holmes excuse himself and leave the room.

  Within ten minutes he was back. Daw was approaching the climax of a thrilling fox chase and was caught up in his own excitement. I looked at Holmes's saturnine face and knew that something momentous had occurred. He was as smug as Pussy after finding a bowl of cream in the dairy. Where had he been? What had he seen—in ten minutes?

  It was past midnight before he found the opportunity to tell me. We had returned to the peel tower, imbibed the smallest of nightcaps, not wishing to offend our host, and climbed the stair by the light of our candles. He hustled me into his room and I turned on him eagerly.

  'Where did you go?'

  'To my lady's chamber. And she was not alone.'

  'She has a lover!' I was incredulous for Daw was with me.

  'Not a lover, but one for whom she has great regard. There is love certainly, and passionate at that but they have it focused on a third person.'

  'Holmes, it is too late for riddles. Who was she with?'

  'Rosie Yewdale.'

  I collapsed on a chair. 'Rosie ... was ... in Mrs Aubrey's bedroom? Doing what?'

  'Talking pleasantly. I couldn't distinguish words, but I did not need to. It was enough to listen to the tones: like that of sisters or close women friends.'

  'I don't believe it.' He said nothing. He would not lie to me. 'What is the explanation. Holmes?'

  'Minnie.'

  'That tells me nothing. I did see Rosie at the window watching the party—but I also saw Mrs Aubrey's face when she caught sight of the woman. I have seen a cobra rear and strike. It was like that.'

  'Mrs Aubrey knew you were watching her.'

  'She fabricated such an expression? You are telling me she is friendly with her husband's whore!'

  'Rosie was hardly that, and most definitely not his friend.'

  'Oh come, we have her word.'

  'A red herring across the trail. Aubrey didn't chase after women, my dear fellow. That is a blanket story, believed by everyone, unwittingly encouraged by several, emanating from one person: the man himself, and that in order to disguise the truth.'

  'What can be more foul than that a married man sought out trollops?'

  'That he had a fondness for children.'

  I should not have been so shocked as I was. I know such monsters exist—but not in great houses, not among people like ourselves. 'Minnie?' I breathed. 'He ... he didn't... ' I could not go on.

  'No. He was stopped in time.'

  'By one of those two women after all? Or both in collusion?'

  'Or three of them. As I came away from Mrs Aubrey's door I heard a rustle of skirts behind me and turned to see Minnie's old nurse enter the room.'

  'Did she see you?'

  'We shall know tomorrow.'

  We were to know sooner than that. There came a knock at the door and our host was revealed, a greatcoat over an old-fashioned nightshirt. He regarded us in consternation. 'Helen is below,' he gasped. 'She wishes to speak with you, Holmes. What can it be? She rode here alone.'

  'We will be with her immediately.' Holmes turned to me and I knew without his saying that the nurse had seen him. As Daw retreated I went to my room and retrieved my service revolver from my valise. It made a conspicuous bulge in my pocket but it might be as well to let our visitor see that we were not defenceless.

  She was seated by the fire with Daw in attendance. He regarded us warily, and when she asked him to leave he refused. 'You will regret that you stayed,' she warned him. 'You will be hurt.'

  'Nothing you have done will hurt me.'

  'Oh, I have done nothing, dear friend.'

  Ah, 1 thought, the evasions commence.

  'I shall stay,' he said stoutly, and threw more logs on the fire. He brushed his hands and surveyed us: master in his own house, providing sanctuary for a lady (his lady?), offering defiance to anyone who threatened her. He gestured to chairs and we sat. Holmes turned to Mrs Aubrey.

  'How much do you know?' she asked.

  'About what—' Daw began—and she held up a hand. 'You will be shocked and distressed, Clement, but if you insist on staying, you must listen or we shall never be finished. And already it is Christmas Day,' she added, with a hint of a smile. 'I have much to do.'

  Holmes replied to her question. 'You must assume that I know as little of recent events as I do about their origins, madam, although I can hazard guesses. It is obvious you knew nothing of Aubrey's true nature when you agreed to marry him.'

  'Do you think for one moment I would have done so had I known?'

  Holmes sa
id calmly, 'He would have confessed that he had not led a blameless life where ladies were concerned. You thought marriage would reform him. He told you that Minnie needed a father.' Her eyes were wide. 'It is the standard cant of such men,' he assured her.

  'That's what I said!' Daw interrupted.

  'I married him.' Her tone was flat. 'And for a time he was most attentive, particularly to Minnie.' Daw let this go, poor fellow, in blissful ignorance of the horror to come. 'Then he started to absent himself for days at a time, pleading business in Glasgow or Liverpool. He was involved in shipping, he said—but said it so carelessly I was not meant to believe it. I came to suspect that he visited cities for other purposes.'

  'I begged her to leave him,' Daw said. 'She wouldn't. I couldn't move her.'

  'Swithins is my house,' she told us with dignity. 'I have responsibilities towards the people on the estate. I could not leave. But nor would he. He laughed at me. He said my suspicions were the result of a diseased imagination and he began to taunt me with what he termed was my steady deterioration into madness.' It was clear from his expression that Daw had not known of this; he made to interrupt but Holmes gestured for silence. 'To obtain proof of his perfidy,' she went on, 'I followed him to Glasgow, but I guessed I would be unable to follow him to his ultimate destination. I knew the hotel where he was staying however and I employed a private detective to track him from there. The result was devastating. I had expected a house of ill fame; what he discovered was so vile that he would not report back to me, would have relinquished his fee rather than tell me. I tracked him to his home'— she smiled grimly k—by employing a second detective. Thus I learned the truth about the man I had married.' She turned to Daw. 'He had no interest in women—except as mothers of little girls'—her voice dropped—'and as procurers.'

  'What are you saying?' Daw was incredulous. 'Minnie?' He was floundering, his mind refusing to entertain the truth.

  'He married me to be close to Minnie,' Mrs Aubrey went on coldly. 'He would have had me certified in order to become her sole guardian. It would be he who fired at me when I was riding, whether to kill me or as part of the fiendish plot to prove me mad, I do not know. After I went to Glasgow I told him I would no longer tolerate his presence under the same roof as Minnie. If he remained another day, I said, I would go to the police. The detective would be called as witness, not to speak of the person in Glasgow who provided the children. He defied me. He said that the detective would never appear in court, that this obscene trade was operated by criminal gangs who would stop at nothing to prevent him. He said that the house he had visited would be abandoned long before the police reached it—in short, I had no proof. On the contrary, people had known for months that my mental health was deteriorating; my story was the ramblings of a madwoman, it could be nothing else. And then he told me something of his nature; he could do that, you see, he had nothing to lose. I was trapped.'