Devil May Care (A Jonathan Harker Mystery) (6 page)

There
was little that I could do other than agree to the arrangement, after which Sir Owen insisted I take a glass of wine with him and his solicitor before I left. As I sipped the fine vintage I could not help thinking that Nathanial Haywood’s stratagem had been flawed. It was very likely that from henceforth the baronet would view my client as an enemy and furthermore as a man who had insulted him. From what I had learned of Sir Owen that did not bode well for Mr Haywood.

Chapter Five

Instead of riding directly to our friends’ residence I called first at the post office in Hayle to see if any letters had arrived for the Ashbys’ house which had not yet been collected by the postman. When I eventually reached Rosehill I placed Willow in the good hands of the groom and walked round to the front garden where Mina was cutting flowers. She passed each stem to Grace and the little girl placed each one carefully in a straw basket. A wooden crib stood close by with Wilfred asleep within it.

For
a moment Mina did not notice me and I slowed my step to admire her happy presence before I spoke her name, softly, to avoid waking Edith’s baby. As she turned round with a pretty smile to greet me, I thanked providence for bringing us together. Our marriage, contracted under such difficult and dangerous circumstance as I lay sick in the Hospital of St Joseph and St Mary in Buda-Pesth, had thus far proved to be a very happy one.

‘Why,
Jonathan, you have just missed your messenger,’ Mina said. ‘A most sombre looking person – Sir Owen Velland’s butler. He gave his name as Jennings, and passed me this letter addressed to you before riding off.’

‘How
odd,’ I said. ‘I was with his master less than half an hour ago. Let me see.’

I
opened the envelope and read the contents.

Dear
Mr
Harker
,

Now
that
our
formal
business
has
been
concluded
,
pray
do
me
the
honour
of
dining
with
me
tomorrow
evening
,
Thursday
17th
October
,
at
eight
o’clock
.
I
have
little
enough
company
in
this
part
of
the
world
,
and
it
would
be
a
delight
to
converse
with
an
intelligent
man
such
as
you
.
The
Reverend
Trewellard
is
also
invited
,
as
is
my
cousin
Mr
Arnold
Paxton
and
my
solicitor
Elias
Makepiece
,
so
we
will
be
a
select
party
of
five
.
I
will
send
a
note
to
Trewellard
tomorrow
asking
him
to
collect
you
at
seven
in
his
carriage
.
Unless
I
hear
from
you
to
the
contrary
,
I
look
forward
to
meeting
you
again
very
soon
.

With
kindest
regards
,
Velland
.

I passed the note back to Mina. ‘This is most surprising, my dear. I would have described our morning’s meeting as frosty at best. Perhaps I have been too quick to judge Sir Owen.’

Mina
read it through and frowned. ‘I’m afraid that I’m not at all impressed by Sir Owen’s manners! He and his two friends may lack wives, but that is hardly an excuse for overlooking yours. He probably thought that a lady novelist at his table would dominate the conversation to the detriment of his friends. Still, I dare say you will enjoy the novelty of a bachelor evening. Perhaps it will culminate in some exciting experiments in the baronet’s chemical laboratory. Take care not to be blown to pieces!’

I
smiled. ‘Fortunately our two years of marriage have taught me when you are pleased to be facetious. Far from enjoying the novelty were it not for my professional obligations I would consider foregoing it altogether.’ I could see Mina looking at me with a puzzled expression and so I continued. ‘My meeting with Nathanial and Nellie Haywood was illuminating, as was my brief but dramatic encounter with a St Ives medical man, Dr Goodwin. I suspect that Sir Owen is either very dangerous, or a harmless victim of prejudice and superstition. However, if I can make a suggestion, let’s wait until dinner this evening before I lay my findings before you – and before Charles and Edith.’

‘Edith
has bicycled to St Ives,’ Mina said. ‘Apparently Charles bought the machine for her last month and she has just taken delivery of one of the latest ladies’ cycling outfits, ordered from London.’

I
chuckled. ‘You’re lucky the Ashbys did not purchase a tandem, otherwise Edith might have asked you to join her and scandalised the natives even more.’

*

That evening, after Edith had returned safely – if a little dusty and oil stained – from her bicycling expedition and Charles Ashby from his parish business, Mina and I joined them for a pleasant dinner. I planned to spend the night at Rosehill and we therefore agreed that I would relay my discoveries to my wife and our friends after the table was cleared.

The
four of us adjourned to the Ashbys’ small library, which was rather more comfortable than the drawing room on a chilly autumn evening. Before her return to her parents’ cottage Lucy had laid a good log fire and we pulled up our armchairs in a semi-circle around it. I noticed a pair of sporting guns in a glass fronted cabinet to one side of the fireplace and pointed at them.

‘Do
you shoot, Charles?’ I asked. Somehow I did not associate my friend with the pointless slaughter of slow-moving birds.

‘I
do not,’ he replied. ‘They came with the house. The previous curate was something of a sportsman, I believe. He went to a mission in the colonies. At least he was honest enough to leave the Church’s guns behind.’

Charles
leaned forward to poke the fire and for a moment it blazed up brighter than the two oil lamps, Rosehill not being supplied with the modern convenience of gas lighting. The wind had freshened and could be heard whistling through the branches of the tall elms nearby.

‘Why,
we might be present at the beginning of a frightening tale by the late Mr Sheridan Le Fanu,’ Edith said. ‘Should we hear the jangling of chains or the wail of a tormented spirit all will be complete!’

‘I’m
not sure that Mina and Jonathan share your delight in gothic romance,’ Charles said with a frown. ‘Remember that they have had first-hand experience of such matters.’

‘By
no means,’ Mina said. ‘I like a good ghost story as much as anyone, as long as it contains the familiar horrors that have entertained us since our childhood. What is more disturbing is the
unfamiliar
, rarely encountered between the covers of a book. However, let us allow Jonathan to tell us what he has discovered about Sir Owen since the four of us last spoke. Perhaps we should pass round the port before he begins.’

Once
our glasses had all been filled I started my account of what had happened since I had left Rosehill the previous morning. I had just repeated the Haywoods’ account of their bizarre experience on the night of their violent disagreement with Sir Owen when Charles interrupted.

‘Has
it occurred to you how very out of character it would be for Mr and Mrs Haywood to be prone to any kind of nervous imaginings? I can hardly think of a more sensible, strong minded couple.’

Edith
nodded. ‘No indeed. I think we must accept that whatever the
nature
of their experience one can hardly dispute its reality. And its occurrence so soon after Sir Owen’s humiliating ejection seems a little too coincidental. But do go on, Jonathan.’

When
I described my dream it was of course necessary to explain that the young lady in my vision was the same mysterious figure that I had seen from the train on our journey down to Cornwall and had chosen not to mention to my wife. As I might have anticipated, Mina was not in the least put out.

‘Really,
you should not have denied me the
frisson
of excitement that your story would have produced!’ she said with a smile. ‘Having been twice accosted by this woman you must promise to tell me if she reappears. I shall have a sharp word or two with her if
I
ever see her.’

Charles
Ashby was not so amused. ‘The young lady may have had a purpose in her visitations. You say that in your dream she seemed to be warning you: I am inclined to agree and believe that you should take her warning seriously.’

During
the remainder of my account my audience exercised admirable self-control, and heard me out in silence. When my story had concluded there was a moment’s silence before Mina spoke.

‘It
seems to me that we have heard a great deal of speculation – I imply no criticism, Jonathan – but have little or no evidence upon which to base a conclusion.’

I
sighed. ‘Evidently these are deep waters. It is a great shame that my old friend Professor Van Helsing is not with us to offer his advice. However, let us hope that my visit to Carrick Manor tomorrow evening will illuminate matters. Now, Charles, I have a favour to ask. Would you mind looking over the sketch I made when I awoke this morning? It has no meaning to my eyes, but perhaps you might find it significant. And Edith and Mina, if you please.’

The
curate took my pocket book from me and stood up to hold it near to the oil lamp, the two ladies peering at it over his shoulder.

‘But
this is astonishing!’ he cried. ‘Are you quite sure that this drawing is based solely upon your dream?’

‘I’m
quite certain,’ I said. ‘It is merely a reproduction of what I remembered. But what the devil is it, Charles?’

In
answer to my question he picked up the lamp and walked to the far wall of the library, scrutinising the shelves. After opening a few books and replacing them he returned with a somewhat mildewed volume and sat down in his chair.

‘In
saying “What the devil” you may have come closer to the truth than you intended. See this.’

He
held the book open so that all four of us could see the peculiar design which filled the lower part of one page. It consisted of an outer circle with an equal-sided triangle set within it. Esoteric, rune-like symbols could be seen in the spaces between the straight sides of the triangle and the outer circle. Inside the triangle sat a second inner circle, which contained no markings.

Mina
held my pocket-book next to the ancient volume. It was quite clear that other than the symbols – which either I had not observed clearly or which had been absent from my dream – my sketch was the same as the diagram which Charles had unearthed.

Edith
refilled our glasses. ‘I think you’d better explain, Charles,’ she said.

‘Very
well. The book I have here,’ he held it up momentarily, ‘is
The
Magus
,
or
Celestial
Intelligencer
, by Francis Barrett. It was published in 1801. The book is a guide to the occult and to ceremonial magic and is itself based on a number of much earlier works, including some very rare manuscripts. The illustration is of the Seal of Lucifer, an ancient and powerful symbol. Of course the modern church is inclined to dismiss such things as myths and legends.’

As
he spoke I wondered how the Seal could have entered my dream. One possible explanation was that I
had
seen it before, perhaps years ago in some forgotten book or monograph and since forgotten it. Neither could I dismiss an alternative possibility: that the dream had been the result of an external influence rather than simply the regurgitation of my own unconscious imagination.