A Jane Austen Encounter (25 page)

THE QUESTION WAS STILL with Richard the next morning as he suppressed a yawn while spreading homemade strawberry jam on his toast.

“What a delicious breakfast,” Elizabeth said. “Everything is locally grown.” She speared a crisp brown sausage, then frowned at her companion. “But you look terrible.”

Richard grinned. “Sorry. Actually, I spent a lot of the night thinking.”

“And?”

“Nothing, really. Nothing concrete. It just seems like everything was leading to Godmersham.”

“Everything what? I thought we’d decided there wasn’t anything to find from Edith’s letter.”

“That’s the problem. I couldn’t figure it out. I do want to have a closer look at the documents in the museum today, though.”

“But there can’t be anything hidden there. Everything is on display. It’s a museum, after all.”

“Maybe that’s it. Perhaps Muriel worked out something no one else realized from something that’s there for everyone to see. One of the letters or something.”

“Ah, like ‘The Purloined Letter’ hidden right out in the open?”

“Something like that. I want to have another look, anyway.”

“And hopefully Walter will have made arrangements for us to see the house. Mmm, these tomatoes are incredible.” Elizabeth enjoyed another bite, then continued, “Anyway, I’m hoping to see our charming young friends again while you’re rootling around in the museum.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Probably.” She gave him a saucy look.

A short time later, they met their companions, who had breakfasted earlier, in the front garden. Paul and Beth announced their plans to go to Goodnestone, the family seat of Edward’s wife, where Jane frequently visited. So Elizabeth, Richard, and a silent Geraldine squeezed in the backseat behind Arthur and Claire with the Godmersham party.

A few minutes later as they walked to the house along the gravel drive from the car park, the sound of a bat connecting with a ball told them the Headington choristers were again playing cricket on the back lawn. “I rang Walter,” Arthur told Richard. “He said he’d meet you at the museum.”

The meaning was clear that Arthur and Claire would rather spend their time strolling in the park than in a small, chilly museum. What Gerri had in mind, no one knew as she set out at a brisk pace toward the wooded hillside at the far end of the house.

“That’s fine,” Elizabeth said. “You carry on with your research. I saw a photograph in the museum of a bench on the verandah where the Queen Mum sat when she visited here. I think that will do very well for me.”

Richard gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Enjoy. You are fond of those lads, aren’t you?” He smiled as he watched her trim form walk across the lawn and disappear around the corner of the house.

And the smile remained as he walked through the park with the sounds of the happy young voices behind him. Walter, indeed, was waiting at the museum. He said he had another meeting that morning, but would try to be back in time to show them through the house later in the afternoon.

Richard went straight to the Austen family display and spent a long time reading each of the letters and documents in detail. Interesting though it was, he could see nothing that would seem to lead to a nefarious plot. Surely the whole thing was nothing more than his imagination. He could return to Elizabeth knowing he had done his best to cover the ground. Perhaps they should walk back to the tearoom for lunch before their afternoon tour.

He had just started down the road toward the house when the sound of feet running on the gravel made him look up. Jack and Sahil were pelting toward him. “Come on.”

“Hurry!”

“She said to get you.”

“Whoa!” Richard held Sahil by the shoulders. “Who? Elizabeth?”

Sahil nodded vigorously enough to make his black hair bounce on his forehead. “Nilay told her and she went with him. But first she said to get you.”

“What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?” If so, why didn’t they get Mr. Graves, Richard wondered.

“It’s Stav. That man—the other one—”

“Shorter ‘n you. Blond hair.” Jack ruffled his own fringe to indicate Arthur’s thick thatch.

“Stav went with him. He made him.”

“You don’t know for sure,” Jack corrected Sahil.

“He wouldn’t have left the field otherwise, would he? Not before the innings were over.”

Richard was already hurrying down the path as he continued questioning. “What do you mean?”

Both boys started to answer at once, trotting along to keep up with Richard’s long stride.

“Wait. One at a time.” He pointed at Sahil. “You first.”

“Stav was playing long off. I was fine leg. I saw him grab Stav—” Richard knew just enough about cricket to realize that Stav would have been at the very back of the field and Sahil at the opposite end. “When I look again—he’s gone.”

“It was ages ago. And they never came back,” Jack added.

Richard understood the concern. “But why didn’t you get Mr. Graves?”

“Harrison sprained his ankle, so Mr. G took him—” Sahil began.

Jack interrupted. “I told George. He’s head boy. He said Stav’s playing silly buggers, but he set everyone to searching the park just the same.”

“But you don’t think he’s in the park?”

“Stav wouldn’t leave the match,” Sahil insisted.

“But why would Arthur take Stav?”

Sahil gave Richard a look that said he was incredibly dim, but carried on. “To get in the house. He saw us go in yesterday, but Mr. G. keeps it locked. We’re only allowed to sleep there—not run wild.”

Richard was starting to get the picture. “And Stav knew how to get in?”

“Of course. We all do.”

“And Elizabeth went in with Nilay?” Richard asked, not waiting for an answer to break into a run.

This didn’t make any sense. Why would Arthur abduct Stav? He told himself his own anxiety was irrational. Arthur wouldn’t hurt Elizabeth. Everything was fine, he told himself. But it was a hollow assurance.

His heart was pounding in his ears when he reached the verandah and bolted toward the long glass doors. Surely he wouldn’t have to break his way in.

“Sir! This way.” The two boys stood back at the edge of the drive by the dormitory wing they had described yesterday.

Before Richard reached them, they were already scrambling up the corkscrew iron fire escape. Jack pulled a wire from his pocket, and with a few twists, they were in. “He’s wizard,” Sahil said.

It was ominously quiet when they entered the hallway. Richard started to call Elizabeth’s name, then thought there might be an advantage in preserving the element of surprise. He held his finger to his lips. Was that a scuffle overhead? He wasn’t sure, but he signaled to Jack to lead them to the attic.

Richard’s stomach was churning. What was Arthur doing to her? Surely if all were well, he would hear Elizabeth and Arthur talking. Where was Claire? He thought she and Arthur were together. And why couldn’t he hear the boys moving about?

Surely the awful foreboding he felt was just nerves. They would find them all downstairs in one of the rooms discussing the architecture of the house.
Please, God.

Jack stopped at the door to the attic. Splintered wood showed that the lock had been forced with far less skill than Jack’s clever lock-picking. Richard pushed the boys behind him and opened the door carefully.

Something glimmered in the dim light. He scooped it up from the third step. Elizabeth’s topaz cross.
God, no!

He whirled and grabbed each boy by an arm. “Go for help. Fast!”

They scurried toward the door at the end of hall without argument.

Richard turned and took the stairs two at a time, blotting out images of Elizabeth, broken and bleeding.

He paused at the top of the stairs, straining to hear Elizabeth’s voice. Even a sob would give him hope. But all was silent.
Don’t let me be too late.
Please.

He took a deep breath and plunged into the room. “Oh, God! No!” It was worse than any nightmare he had conjured. Elizabeth lay on the bare floor boards in a pool of light from the small window. Blood ran from her forehead. A heavy bronze statue lay on the floor beside her.

Richard darted forward to gather her into his arms, but stopped at the threatening voice.

“Don’t come any closer.” Gerri emerged from the shadows, a knife at Nilay’s throat.

Chapter 21

RICHARD FROZE. AS HIS eyes adjusted to the dim light, he took in the scene before him: Arthur tied and gagged in a chair; Claire, lying limp and bound at his feet. Behind Geraldine, a small lump that must be Stav lay before an open trunk with stacks of books and papers strewn on the floor on each side of it. And the far wall, lined with shelves of antique books. The legendary Godmersham collection.

A bulge in the pocket of Gerri’s sweater indicated that she had found what she was searching for.

The pieces slotted into place in Richard’s mind. “It was you all along.” Everything inside him was screaming to reach out to Elizabeth, but he had to distract Gerri before she did more violence. “You killed Muriel.”

Richard was prepared for anger, hauteur, or stony silence. But not for the mocking laughter that broke from Geraldine. “She was so pushy, so demanding. All my life. I could never get anything right. Never come up to her expectations. I decided this time I’d show her.

“And I have! I did it. I found it! And I outsmarted you all. Even Muriel. She thought her plan was so clever. That box of donated papers made her think of it. ‘Plant a letter,’ she said. ‘Get them all searching.’” The mocking quotations sounded eerily like Muriel’s voice. “‘Build expectation.’ It was all for her project. Her success. It was all about her. But I showed her.”

“But you could have planted that letter any time. Why break in? Why attack Claire?”

Gerri’s laugh was chilling. “Hitting Claire was a bonus. Arthur could never see me when she was in the room. I should have hit her harder. But I got a second chance.” She indicated the still form by Arthur.

“So you took the packet to make it look like a burglary. But why return them?”

“Muriel got scared when the police started looking. Didn’t want them found in our room. And she was too weak to burn them. But in the end, the strong win. I won!” The horrible laughter started again. “Of course, we had to ‘steal’ the plant back when Robert announced he was sending it off for authentication.”

“But how did you know all this was here?” Richard was sweating. He didn’t think he could hold her attention much longer.

“That old bookseller in Canterbury. The doddery fool put me on to it.”

“And then you pushed him down the stairs.”

“His own fault. Tried to stop me when he realized what he’d let slip.” She returned to her theme. “I was smarter than the whole lot of them. Showed them all I’m better than Muriel. I showed
her!”

Richard struggled to keep his voice level. “She didn’t get to see your triumph, Gerri. Muriel’s dead. You killed her.”

“No!” The laughter strangled and turned to an anguished sob. “I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t my fault. She taunted me. Said I’d never been worth the trouble. She wished she hadn’t had me. She said she should have had an abortion. She would have murdered me.”

Now the accusatory tirade turned to pleading. “It was self-defense, see? And I didn’t mean to tip the bookcase over on her. She was holding on to it. I just wanted to push some books over on her. Then the whole thing fell.”

But Richard hardly heard the words that deteriorated into a whine. He was focusing on her revelation. “You mean Muriel was your mother?”

Now the bitter, mocking tone returned. “Oh, yes. That was our big secret. She was never a real mother to me. Just an exacting despot. No one could know. It would have been bad for her precious career. And everyone thought she was so wonderful, taking poor, hopeless Geraldine under her wing. But now I’ll show everybody. I beat them all!”

Richard cringed at the sound of her crazed laughter. This was hardly the time to point out that a killer could hardly reap the benefits of any discovery she might have made.

Gerri tightened her grip on Nilay. The knife moved a fraction closer to his throat. “Now I’ll be going. That is, we’ll be going. Don’t get squirmy on me, brat, and you’ll be all right.”

She pushed Nilay a step forward, then stopped in front of Arthur. “Now you just toss the car keys over by the door.” He obeyed. “Nice of you to bring them to me.” She gave him a long, hard look. “I would have shared with you, you know. If that cow hadn’t interfered. Shame she was the one who saw me coming up here. If you’d only come alone, it could all have been different. Still.” She glanced at Claire. “Gave me a chance to hit her again.”

Her eyes flicked down to Elizabeth’s still form almost directly below her. “What a lot of busybodies you all are. Pity you couldn’t have left it alone.” She nudged Nilay. “Nice and easy to the stairs, now.”

Gerri took one step when a hand shot out along the floor and seized her ankle, pitching her forward. Richard sprang to catch the knife. Nilay had it before it hit the floor.

Richard flung himself at the flailing Geraldine and Arthur moved to tie her with the ropes Nilay cut from his wrists. The moment Geraldine was secure, Arthur spun back to help the dazed Claire and Richard turned to Elizabeth. She was holding the stunned Stav, so he scooped them both into his arms.

And then the attic exploded in noise and motion as Jack and Sahil led a good portion of the Headington Boys’ School Choir into the fray, followed by their master.

Richard gave a shout of joyous victory. But the exultation died on his lips. Brian Woodhouse stood at the top of the stairs with a heavy metal object in his hand.

Mr. Graves saw him first. “Heads up!” he shouted. Every boy in the room instantly stood at attention.

“Very impressive. Now if you’ll all just kindly stay where you are.” The newcomer held out his hand and flicked on the torch he held. Richard breathed a sigh of relief. They were in England. Petty criminals didn’t have guns. Theoretically.

Brian ran his light over the shelves of books lining the attic, which Richard had only been dimly aware of before. He paused, as if considering the contents Gerri had spilled from the trunk, then turned back to her still prostrate but protesting form. He knelt, pulled the bulging packet from her pocket, and played the flashlight over its contents. “Yes. My client will be very happy to see this again.”