The Caster & Fleet Mysteries: Cases 4-6 Read online

  Chapter 1

  Connie

  I stifled an exclamation as a figure in the doorway threw the room into shadow. ‘I thought I might find you here.’ Albert smiled at me from the doorway, then came into the nursery.

  I looked up, half-guiltily. ‘I sent Nanny to the kitchen for a break.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Albert stooped to peep inside the crib where baby Bee slept peacefully, her tiny fists above her head and a satisfied look on her face. ‘Have you been wearing the poor thing out, Connie?’

  I grinned at him. ‘More like the other way round. She plays until she’s hungry, and feeds until she’s completely knocked out.’

  Albert reached down as if to stroke her cheek, but his hand stopped perhaps two inches short as if he were scared of what might happen.

  ‘She won’t bite,’ I said, stroking the little pink cheek myself. ‘Though she has got two teeth.’

  ‘Has she?’ Albert looked rather horrified. ‘Is that normal?’

  ‘Apparently.’ Bee wrinkled her nose, so I took my hand away. ‘Nanny says that means it’s time to wean her.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Albert said, his eyes on the baby. ‘How old is she now?’

  ‘Six months and a week,’ I said, without thinking.

  ‘Yes,’ said Albert. ‘I suppose it is about time.’

  I tried not to appear too surprised at this sudden display of child-rearing expertise. ‘I can still feed her, even if she is going to start eating proper food.’

  A mischievous light sparkled in Albert’s blue eyes. ‘If she’s anything like her parents, she’ll be on three-course meals before she’s a year old. Mrs Jones will have her work cut out.’ Then the light softened. ‘But it will be nice to have you — well — back.’

  I glanced up at him. ‘I haven’t been away.’

  Oh, but I had. I could barely believe I was the same person who had gone adventuring with Katherine and done all manner of strange things in the name of justice. That belonged to another life. So did the days of balls and parties. My world had narrowed to our house, the park, and a few friends’ houses (provided they didn’t mind babies), and was almost entirely focused on a little bundle of black hair, blue eyes and giggles. And that was the way I liked it.

  ***

  The process had begun when I was six months pregnant, and Dr Farquhar had decreed that it was time for bed rest.

  ‘But I’m perfectly well,’ I had protested.

  Dr Farquhar frowned over his pince-nez at me. ‘I want you to stay that way.’

  Unfortunately Dr Farquhar had also passed his prescription on to Albert, who insisted that I comply. ‘You can’t be too careful, Connie,’ he had said, and the pain in his eyes had given me no choice but to agree.

  So the next day, for the last time, Tredwell drove me to the Department. As he handed me down from the carriage (something which had become increasingly necessary as my pregnancy advanced), I looked up at the tall, impassive building which had seemed so frightening on my first day. Would I ever enter it again?

  Katherine’s brows knitted as she crossed the threshold and saw me already seated at my desk. ‘You’re … early?’

  ‘I know,’ I replied, hoping that I didn’t look as hangdog as I felt. ‘I have something to tell you.’

  She grinned. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ She crossed to the filing cabinet and took out the little portable stove we used for tea.

  ‘Oh, do be quiet. You’re on the right lines, though.’ I gathered up my courage into a tight ball. ‘Dr Farquhar says it’s time for me to leave. I’m giving you my notice. Effective today.’

  Katherine took a step back, as if I had pushed her. ‘Oh.’ She leaned against the filing cabinet, watching me. ‘Of course I knew you’d have to leave at some point. I just didn’t think it would be so sudden.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I felt my face heating up as if Katherine had set me going instead of the stove.

  Katherine delved into the cabinet for the teapot. ‘Will you come back?’ Her voice, from within the drawer, sounded strangely echoey, and I had a vision of Katherine all alone in the big office, waiting for me to return.

  I wanted to say ‘Yes, of course I shall.’ That would make Katherine smile again, and we would have a nice last day together in the office.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Work at the Department had become — not exactly routine, but restricted, at least for me. Mr Maynard had come up with a new area of investigation for us, but inevitably, as I grew larger and more conspicuous, Katherine ended up doing more and more of the active work. My role was office-based; reading, researching and talking through Katherine’s findings with her.

  ‘I’ll miss you, Connie,’ said Katherine, then said nothing more until she brought me a cup of black tea, not too strong.

  ‘Perhaps you could hire someone else,’ I said, as brightly as I could manage.

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said, and returned to her desk.

  I had, mostly, complied with doctor’s orders. I had reclined on the bed or the sofa and read, and received a few visitors. Increasingly, though, my mind was occupied with the imminent event. I was not scared, despite my sister Jemima’s detailed account of little Arthur’s arrival. If anything, I wanted to get it over with and emerge from my little prison upstairs.

  Dr Farquhar assured me afterwards that I had had an easy delivery, which made me feel intense sympathy for any mother who had had a difficult one. My nerves were not improved by the heavy tread of Albert’s father, pacing in the corridor outside; but how could I ask that he cease, or go somewhere else? I had heard his voice downstairs when he arrived — ‘How is Mrs Lamont? Is everything all right? Is it going as it should?’ — and beneath the slightly hectoring manner was a note of blind panic. He must have set out the moment he heard the news.

  Then it was all over. ‘It’s a girl!’ proclaimed Dr Farquhar, and I was shown a scarlet-faced, screaming, white-wrapped bundle, which was quickly whisked from my presence. And while I was buzzing with excitement, and longed to see Albert and hold my baby, Dr Farquhar insisted that I sleep. How could I sleep, after that?

  I insisted on an audience with my husband and my daughter the next morning. Mrs Kincaid, Dr Farquhar’s recommendation, who had told me rather forcefully that she was always addressed as ‘Nanny’, had been on standby for two weeks. She seemed ferociously glad to have something to do at last — so much so that I had to ask, again rather forcefully, to be allowed to hold my own child. She was a little less red than the last time I had seen her, and now I could make out a black fuzz on her head. When her eyes opened they were slate-blue, and the same shape as Albert’s. I tried to remember all the girls’ names we had thought of, and scrutinised her to see which one might fit.

  ‘Father’s over the moon,’ said Albert, who looked exhausted. ‘He wanted to offer his congratulations in person, but Nanny thought it would be too much for you.’

  I looked at Nanny with a new respect. She caught my eye, and looked back steadily. ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting to try and feed her,’ she said, her slight Scots burr becoming a little more pronounced.

  ‘Yes, please.’ If Nanny did roll her eyes, it was very subtle.

  While my idea of how the process worked was purely theoretical, baby knew exactly what to do, and with some manoeuvring (during which Albert turned his back, and Nanny tutted audibly), soon she was feeding contentedly, her tiny fingers patting me. I was absurdly proud of myself, and I could feel my shoulders losing their tension.

  ‘Beatrix,’ I said. ‘Bee for every day.’

  Albert sat on the bed next to me. ‘And Charlotte, for Mama.’


  ‘Yes, of course.’ I adjusted the baby’s — Beatrix’s — shawl. ‘And we’ll have to include Euphemia, for Mother.’ I paused. ‘And what about Katherine?’

  ‘I’d like to,’ said Albert. ‘But it’s a big name for such a mite.’

  ‘She’ll grow into it,’ I said. ‘What if we had all boys apart from Bee?’

  Albert wrinkled his nose. ‘I suppose it’s possible. Go on then, stick K in there.’

  ‘Hullo, Beatrix Charlotte Euphemia Katherine Lamont,’ I said. Bee hiccupped, but apart from that seemed to take it rather well. ‘I’ve put them in alphabetical order so that no one can argue.’

  ***

  Back in the present, Nanny entered the nursery without knocking. ‘There’s a caller downstairs for you, ma’am. A Miss Frobisher.’

  I frowned. When was the last time I had seen Maisie? Not since well before Bee, when I had picked Maisie’s brains about mesmerists. I considered asking Nanny to step downstairs and offer my apologies, as it wasn’t my at-home afternoon, but…

  ‘We’ll both go,’ said Albert. ‘I haven’t seen Maisie for ages.’

  Nanny stood by the crib and watched us out of the nursery. ‘I think Nanny is suspicious of me,’ I murmured, as we walked downstairs, side by side.

  Albert mused for a moment before answering. ‘I think she’s used to doing her job without having a mother under her feet wanting to do half of it herself.’

  ‘She’ll have to get used to it,’ I said, as we reached the hall.

  ‘Connie, is that you?’ Maisie came to meet us and held her hands out to me. ‘You’re looking very well, considering.’

  ‘Considering what?’ I said, laughing.

  ‘Well, you’ve had a child. I expected you to have your hair half down and no figure left at all.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Maisie.’ I couldn’t help but smile. Maisie’s sharp observations were a refreshing change from the cautions and warnings which seemed to be my lot on most days. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

  Maisie scrutinised me, then laughed herself. ‘I was given four tickets for an event, and it occurred to me that it might be your sort of thing.’

  I led the way into the drawing-room and ordered tea. ‘And what is my sort of thing?’ I asked, once Nancy had departed.

  ‘Not stuffy,’ said Maisie, pulling two gilt-edged cards from her bag. ‘Not part of the Season.’

  ‘Oh, the Season,’ I groaned. ‘So it isn’t that, but what is it?’

  Maisie passed me the cards. ‘A White Masked Ball in Aid of the All Hallows Orphanage. Costumes on the Theme Welcome. Expect the Unexpected,’ I read. ‘That doesn’t tell us much. Who gave you the tickets?’

  ‘You’re very suspicious, Connie,’ said Maisie, looking rather offended. ‘I thought you’d be thrilled to get out of the house. You’re too pale.’

  ‘I shall be just right for a white masked ball, then,’ I said, giving a card to Albert.

  ‘I got the tickets from Toby Langlands,’ said Maisie. ‘He’s involved in some way. I think he was tired of being snubbed at dances all season.’

  ‘We should go, then,’ said Albert. ‘Do you have an escort, Maisie?’

  Maisie’s nose elevated itself a good few inches. ‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘I’m having a pair of costumes made specially.’

  ‘But what about —’

  ‘Bee will be perfectly all right,’ said Albert. ‘Nanny and the night nurse will be on duty.’ Albert had insisted on a wet-nurse for night feeds. ‘She won’t even know you’re not there.’

  I’ll know I’m not there, I thought, but kept it to myself. ‘Do you want to go?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Albert. ‘I want to take my wife out on the town for a change.’

  I sighed. ‘Very well.’ I checked the date on the card. ‘I’ll see what Maria can do for us with three weeks’ notice.’

  ‘Excellent!’ said Maisie. ‘It will be fun to see you treading on each other’s feet again.’

  ‘And we can try to work out who your mystery escort is,’ I replied. ‘I simply can’t wait.’

  ‘It will be fun,’ said Albert, once Maisie’s carriage had clattered away.

  ‘Perhaps,’ I said. ‘It will certainly be something different, anyway. I just hope I can fit into a formal dress.’

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ Albert’s arms snaked round my waist. ‘Or you could always go as a white billiard ball.’

  ‘As could you,’ I said, poking the middle of Albert’s waistcoat, where his stomach protruded perhaps an eighth of an inch more than it had when we first met.

  ‘Too much comfortable living and not enough exercise, you see.’ Albert smiled. ‘You’ll have to put me through my paces at the ball, Connie.’

  ‘Indeed I shall,’ I said, and kissed him.

  Chapter 2

  Katherine

  All eyes were on the bright image filling the screen. The darkened room was hushed, the summer air warm with bodies and anticipation.

  Behind the magic lantern it was even warmer. But at last my twenty-one year old cousin Nathan had taken control of it and I could stand a little to the side. It was the final night of Father’s West Dorset speaking tour and at last I could concentrate on the talk. I also kept half an eye on the audience, shadowy but just visible, their faces alert.

  The image showed a young couple standing on a mountainside. The sparse landscape, dotted with trees and rocks, undulated in arid magnificence. The young man looked very proper. He wore a suit despite the apparent heat, and appeared to have been transplanted directly from the green of southern England. The woman beside him wore a beautiful Anatolian outfit: a long straight dress in red and gold over full trousers with golden braided cuffs, her dark hair half-hidden under a neat hat and veil.

  ‘And,’ declaimed Father, ‘while we languished, unable to venture further, the people of the village took us in as honoured guests and in time, love blossomed among the olives. My faithful assistant Henry asked for the hand of the beautiful Cemile and her father gave his blessing.’

  A collective feminine sigh rose from the audience.

  ‘I have brought with me an embroidered hat such as Cemile wore, and her dainty shoes. And see what intricate designs the ladies painted on their hands for the wedding…’

  Nathan changed the slide and the audience almost as a body leaned forward as if to trace the pattern displayed in front of them. A matron nearby muttered about heathens and painted women but her neighbours shushed her. I took the chance to survey the room. All eyes were on the screen or on Father. No-one but I noticed two men slip in through the curtained door at the back of the hall.

  ‘Alas!’ boomed Father.

  The slide of the hand was replaced with a scene of devastation. Buildings were tumbled, trees uprooted. In the foreground a huge jar lay smashed, its contents spilled, and sitting on a rock, a woman cradled something in her arms.

  ‘This land can be a cruel land. Do the dragons Ejderha and Evren yet slither through the mountains, their monstrous fiery tails causing the rocks to crack and the ground to open? Alas…’ his voice trembled. ‘Alas, an earthquake struck and my faithful Henry and his bride were lost.’

  The audience gasped. Father had written the whole talk as a tribute to his assistant Henry, making it his story from the moment they planned the expedition. It was, perhaps, the kindest thing Father had ever done.

  ‘Yes,’ said Father. ‘All hands salvaged what we could of the village and rescued whomever we could find alive but Henry was gone. And yet… and yet … he is not forgotten.’

  Nathan put through the final slide. ‘In the land of the Black Tulips, in the wilds which once perhaps were engulfed in water, and above which Noah sailed in faithful hope of land, in the mountains where ancient dragons slither and thyme can be smelt with every footstep, Henry lies with his arms around his bride. Protecting her forever.’

  Even the matron was wiping a tear.

  ‘Thank you for listening,’ said Father.
r />   The audience rose to its feet to applaud, and I watched the two men approach someone at the end of a row. After the briefest of tussles, the third man was escorted from the room. A weight lifted from my shoulders. Case complete.

  ‘Main lights on?’ whispered Nathan.

  I nodded and he went to turn the switches. Tomorrow we would go home, and Nathan would take over as Father’s assistant. He and his widowed mother Aunt Leah would be moving into Mulberry Avenue with Father while James and I moved out. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or sad.

  ***

  ‘Decadence!’ Ada slammed the hotel-room door behind her and wagged a finger at me. ‘All this idling has made you louche, Mrs Kitty! And to think that people can see you! For shame.’

  There was an hour before we needed to catch the train, and I was curled up in the window seat in Weymouth reading letters.

  I blinked at Ada’s attack, made a quick check of myself to ensure I was fully clothed, and then looked outside. I could see the Esplanade and beach clearly. People were walking arm in arm enjoying the summer morning. The bathing machines were pulled up on the sands ready for the off, but a few older children and youths were already paddling. However while they were all quite clear to me, it was hard to imagine any of them could have made me out even if they’d wanted to.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ada,’ I said, swinging down from the window seat and pulling out a chair for her. ‘I’m not sure what I’ve done this time.’

  ‘Your hair is down,’ she said. ‘And I saw you yesterday, looking at that shop which sells bathing costumes.’ She couldn’t have sounded more disapproving had she seen me swinging naked from the Jubilee Clock.

  ‘Ada, please sit. What is it really?’

  ‘I’ve been so bored,’ she said, her lip quivering a tiny bit; whether from distress or fury, I couldn’t tell. ‘I can’t wait to get home.’

  ‘Please sit, Ada.’ I rang the bell and when the maid came, ordered tea.

  ‘It’s not right, sitting having tea with you,’ grumbled Ada. ‘It’s my job to make tea for you and go back to the kitchen.’