Chapter Three
Despite a scant few hours' rest, William was awake and restless by seven Saturday morning, possessing a voracious appetite. Must be the fresh country air, he reckoned, before gazing at his wife's naked shoulder, reminding him happily that one appetite tended to fuel the next.
He completed morning ablutions while Julia slept then consulted his trunk. He was glad that in preparation for this trip he'd thumbed through his copy of The Gentlemen's Companion, to brush up enough not to embarrass his wife, so he selected the tweed walking suit as appropriate for morning at a country house. He was aware that breakfast was not until nine o'clock at the earliest, so he left Julia a short note. A quick glance back, and he quietly left the room and went out into the long hallway.
In daylight, the house was bright and inviting as William strode down the stairs and found his way back through the entryway towards the sound of voices. One part of his mind observed the interior of the house was somewhat oddly put together, the rooms not really harmonizing in proportions. Arriving at the drawing room, he discovered a long table where servants were setting out linens and chafing dishes for the expected fruits, eggs, potted meats, fish, toast, rolls, tea cakes, muffins, hams, tongues, pies, kidney, and fried bacon. He was wishing the tea was already steeping and a slice of toast might be had—but saw nothing hopeful. He did not wish to disturb the household staff in the midst of their duties and was about to sulk, until he spied morning newspapers fanned out on the table. I can read until nine or nine thirty, I suppose.
With a sigh towards his rumbling stomach, he chose the Toronto Gazette and a chair in an alcove with good daylight, to wait out of the way for either Julia to come down or some food to appear. From behind the paper he heard the servants going about their business before other guests entered also looking for an advance on breakfast. Two women were talking casually as they took a turn around the table, picking through newspapers.
A high voice drifted over. "….it was frightful! The cold just centered in our room over the bed—scared the living daylights out of me. And that moaning at three in the morning, like an unquiet spirit or someone having a nightmare. I had to wake my husband up, I was so disturbed. Hard to get to sleep with all that…"
William shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to shrink down in the wingback chair, concerned it was not the house that was moaning last night.
"…And then it started over again right when the wind picked up, like a ghost…" her voice quavered.
William's face flared hot, fairly sure he and Julia were louder than they thought.
"Yes, I heard it too. And did you hear the wind whistle? This is a summer house. I mean it is lovely here on the lake, but no wonder no one stays here much past October with all that creaking and groaning. The house must close up before the first snow: I cannot imagine travelling that causeway, all iced up and in the dark…"
William recognized that was Margaret Swift's voice.
The high-voiced woman continued on a tangent. "Did you say Caroline Balfour came in late last night? When did she get married? I just got a glimpse of a very handsome man outside gazing at the stars and assumed that was her husband," the voice lifted even higher at the end in question. "Who else could catch such a delicious man?"
"No! That is Julia Ogden's husband. Can you believe it?"
"No..!"
"Ladies!" A third woman interrupted.
"Phil! Good gracious! Will you come for a morning outing before breakfast?" Margaret asked.
"No. Please go on without me, I want to read the paper in peace and quiet." That new woman effectively shut down the gossip and cleared the room.
William hoped he was invisible, finding himself holding his breath. Unfortunately his growling stomach gave him away.
"I see I am not the only one who is hungry," a contralto voice observed pleasantly enough in William's direction. "Perhaps Cook can produce tea and a loaf of bread and jam – nursery fare if you like, for those of us who are used to being up early."
She pushed through the baize door into the kitchen area, asking for her needs and got a yes ma'am from a servant.
William continued to read until the woman approached him. Lowering the pages, he saw an athletic-looking woman in brown tweed trousers and a hacking jacket.
She stuck her hand out with a smile, examining him in detail with penetrating grey eyes. "Doctor Philomena Kinney," she introduced herself, "Or shall I say Mrs. Marcus Murray for the purposes of this weekend? I don't believe we have been introduced, but I am guessing you are the man Margaret and Leonetta Fairweather were gossiping about. Don't mind them. "
William coughed, set his paper aside and rose to greet her, taking her firm hand in his. "William Murdoch," he said simply. "Er…Thank you," he tried to encompass the food and embarrassing rescue without further humiliation.
"Don't mention it. It's rude and boorish to openly discuss someone like that even if it is true," the woman commented with a wink and a smile while giving him an appreciative glance.
He cleared his throat. "Doctor Kinney is it? Did you also go to medical school with Julia?" William wanted to change the way the conversation was going as quickly as possible onto safer subjects.
"Heaven's no!" she said with a delicate shudder. "Doctorate in philosophy, from Cornell University in New York. I write and lecture; like your wife I continue with my own name. You may have something in common with my husband, Marcus, in that regard," her light eyes challenged.
William nodded his head slightly. "If that is unequivocal support for women's full social participation, then yes." He was seeing a little of what Julia liked in this woman; she was not extraordinarily beautiful, but her poise and humour were engaging. "And your area, if I may ask?"
"What Bernard de Fontenelle called the 'Age of the Academies' which they are now calling the Enlightenment period. My particular interest is in the scientific discoveries and their effects on the common man."
William could feel his face blossom into a broad smile. "Indeed, I have similar interests."
The two of them ate bread and jam, quietly talking while the tea pot between them emptied. William was so absorbed he was not even aware that the servants had lit the warming lamps and were setting out dishes so that the guests could serve themselves casually and at their leisure. A clank of plates caught their attention to their surroundings and the time.
Philomena offered a self-deprecating laugh. "It is absorbing, is it not? Ah, but so hard to make a living at! Where did you take your degree, if I may? My husband has wasted his in banking as far as I am concerned, but his work does afford me a library. I do hope you are not a physician like Julia, I find the human body interesting, but not for academic perusal." She leaned forward in her chair with enthusiasm.
William fought to hold an easy smile. "No, er…Julia is the only doctor in the family." This was part of what he dreaded about coming to this weekend. It was seldom that the lack of a university degree ever entered his consciousness; he held his own no matter what the arena was when he was conducting police work. But he felt diminished in company such as this when it was a purely social situation. His fingers rose to his brow, wishing he had a ready answer. Foolish of me not to have thought one out beforehand.
"…Phil! I can scarcely believe it! Can it have been so long?" Julia's clear voice called out as she sailed across the room to stand between Phil and her husband.
Rescued again, William told himself. I hope I don't need this to become a habit.
He stood to greet her and to give her a peck on the cheek. "Good morning Julia," and was surprised she kissed him back rather decidedly.
"I see you've made the acquaintance of my husband," Julia motioned to William behind her.
For her part, Julia meant it when she'd told William that she liked Philomena, but the two had always been quite competitive. There was little doubt in Julia's mind that Phil would take an interest in William – and not just in a friendship sort of way. When she said Phil had been quite the lady about town, she'd been trying to politely phrase the fact that she had always had a voracious appreciation of men.
"Julia!" Philomena stood to give a hug. "It's our little secret, but your husband and I share quite a passion already." When Julia did not react she went on. "John Locke, Sir Francis Bacon, Voltaire and Rousseau. Post-Restoration poets! Where ever did you find him?"
Julia just sighed at her husband's bewilderment and her friend's wide-eyed and studiously bland expression. A giggle built up inside her at the absurdity, and she laughed, setting Philomena to laughing right back. "Oh Phil, you never change!" What else was there to do? she whispered to herself.
William smiled nervously as his mouth watered. In Julia's wake had come their hostess, Thelma, dressed in a maroon linen divided skirt and mustard-coloured jacket. Her sister Daphne was an amazing sight with a braid of bright red hair, swathed in a light purple unstructured house dress with matching lavender heels, an emerald scarf at her throat. Brother Samuel was dressed in tweed pants and a sweater; this gave William some relief he'd guessed correctly about the proper attire. The Wilmonts were followed by the larger portion of other guests who lifted the silver dish covers, wafting savory smells his way.
Julia noticed his attention had wandered towards the food. "Shall we?" she waved her hand towards the sideboard, glad to separate Philomena from William.
At the serving station, William raised an eyebrow at her choice of cherry brandy as a morning beverage, but thankfully remained silent. She had expected him to be grumpier about the lateness of the breakfast hour, but she was proud of herself for managing to make him crack a smile and even blush a little when a servant brought out a carafe of fine, Turkish coffee and she asked him if would join her in enjoying a cup.
She wondered if he would ever admit out loud that he hated the concoction and had partaken only for her sake?
Still, so accustomed she had become to her daily workman's breakfast of toast, eggs, and tea, even she was overwhelmed at the choices spread before her at the breakfast table. She opted for the thick slices of back bacon instead of fish to accompany her fried eggs and was now enjoying a tart cranberry muffin. A pity really that blueberries weren't available year round. She wondered at the abstemious plate her husband chose for himself: two slices of bacon and one egg.
"You know there will only be tea this afternoon and supper will not be for another twelve hours," she whispered.
William was not going to admit he'd wolfed down half a loaf of bread already. He merely patted his waist and gave her a private look that was so suggestive she nearly blushed in return.
"Now, now, William. If you give me looks like that, you most assuredly will need more to eat than that," she whispered back.
The rest of the breakfast hour was taken up with the hellos, exchange of greetings, small stories about recent life events, family updates and the day's plans as the guests came down to eat and remained in the withdrawing room to socialize.
As she sipped her brandy, Julia surveyed the group and pointed out the rest of the party. "Of course you've met Phil, Margaret, Thelma, Daphne and Samuel, also Bruce and Rose Nottingham. The dapper gentleman with blue sweater and scarf is Phil's husband, Marcus. The thin brown haired woman is Dorcas, Donald Harvey's wife, poor woman."
Just then a petite, obsidian-haired woman with striking blue eyes glided into the room and greeted Julia and the others at once. "That is Caroline Balfour."
William's curiosity had been piqued ever since he'd been eavesdropping on Margaret and Leonetta, and he could not help but look. "I heard something about her this morning. Another guest seemed to think she is out to catch a man." Well, not exactly a lie…he rationalized to himself.
"This really is quite a charming house, Thelma," commented Margaret, who had returned with Leonetta from their morning walk with an appetite, if the contents of her plate were any indication.
"Just an old house," Thelma politely deferred, hoping to quash the subject.
Inevitably the topic of the house prompted a few guests to grumble about the house's quirks. William was diverted by another guest who asked a question he was also interested in the answers for.
"That must be why the doors will just open suddenly for no reason…"
"Or slam shut..!"
"Or the door knobs stick…"
"I slipped and nearly fell getting out of bed – like someone pulled the rug out from under me!"
"The railing nearly gave way…"
"I found water in the floor…"
"As I said, an older house has its personality," Thelma tried again.
Of course then there were the noisy disturbances Friday night to complain about starting with Keziah Atkinson. "You are just used to it perhaps Thelma, but I am not. I thought it was supposed to be quiet in the country, but honestly a freight train is stealthier!" She implored her husband, Josiah, to support her; he merely stuffed more salmon in his mouth.
Instead Leonetta Fairweather leapt to her defense. "We heard it too. I swear it was Marley's ghost last night with all the clanking and moaning! I could not sleep a wink!"
Julia choked a bit on her brandy when William shot her a guilty glance. Oh, my! Was that moaning us? She saw his face colour, therefore she knew it was an accurate guess. A smile played at the edges of her mouth, covered quickly by another sip.
"Are the ghosts part of the charm too, then, Thelma?" commented one of the Harrington twins as he quaffed his ale to the laughter of the other guests. "Our bedroom door stuck closed—we needed to unhinge the door to get it open!" The Harringtons, Clyde and Clinton, tall and blonde, said this as if it was jolly fun to be trapped.
"Perhaps, Clyde. Or perhaps they're calling for you as some sort of reckoning from your past actions," Thelma quipped back.
"That happened to use as well! Maybe it was one the spirits that locked Marcus and I in our room early this morning. We had to call a servant to let us out," Philomena stated with a laugh.
"Or could it be a jealous wife locking you in, Phil," Grant King theorized over his toast and potted meat.
"We've done worse in the old days, Grant. Remember when Sam and I took your sleeping arse and set you afloat to wake up in La Fontaine Park? You were so drunk you didn't know up from down!"
Grant was not amused, and Julia saw he was ready to argue.
"Really, is that what we gathered here for…?" Julia interrupted before it could get uglier. "To relive our petty disputes that should really be long buried?"
By this time, William had stopped eating and had raised an eyebrow at all the sniping.
No sooner than Julia had spoken, a large, florid man of impressive girth with a loud, insistent voice entered, making a direct line for the food. Samuel followed a short distance behind.
Given the reactions of the women as he strode into the room, along with the fact that the man did resemble an actual pig, William surmised that this new man must be Donald Harvey.
"Ladies! Gentlemen! I assure you this house old, but it is as solid as it can be." Thelma interjected. "My mother's grandfather, Nicholas Dickens Nottingham built his log cabin on this spot nearly 150 years ago. And it eventually became a colonial surveyor's house with a lighthouse once my family established the Salmon fishing industry in this area. Even the lighthouse was incorporated into one of the turrets; the southernmost one I believe. The charm of this place has always been as an escape rather than an estate," she commented wistfully before taking a sip of her own brandy. "And you are right, Keziah, these sounds are just all new to you so you are more aware of them. It is like having a grandfather clock. At first the ticking and the chiming are maddening, then one day you have forgotten they exist at all!"
Thelma smiled, searching for support. "There is a logical explanation for everything you heard," she urged.
William noticed Samuel Wilmont was frowning instead of defending his sister or their home, so he spoke up instead. "Indeed, even light winds can infiltrate small openings much as an organ makes its notes, or can vibrate small gaps much as a reeded wind instrument produces sounds."
William cannot help himself, can he? Julia observed fondly. Always coming to the aid of a lady…some things will never change.
Thelma flashed a brilliant smile of gratitude. "Exactly! Now, speaking of wind, it is a glorious day outside with perfect weather for sailing. Who is up for a race?"
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"Care for a game of Snooker?" Josiah Atkinson approached William while he was investigating a small library on the opposite side of the house from where breakfast had been served. He thought this must be the original log cabin his hostess alluded to: a thick stone fireplace and low ceilinged chamber with a single south-facing window.
"William Murdoch is it? Josiah Atkinson, pleased to meet you."
William rose politely to shake the man's hand. "Pleasure to meet you."
Atkinson was a spare, wiry man with the slight stoop of an academic and glasses perched on his nose. "I'm not much of a seaman myself. Never learned to swim even though my old man loved the water."
"Ah. My own father was a sailor, and he passed on none of his skills to me, either. My wife, Julia, is a strong swimmer, however." William put the book aside. "Is it just us two left behind?"
Atkinson nodded. "Donald Harvey is somewhere around here, probably still scoping the place out. He has a fine pair of binoculars with the new German lenses so instead of walking he place he can just look out the window. Unlike your wife, Mr. Harvey is a failed medical man who turned out to be much more successful in real-estate. I understand he is being courted to purchase the place, so he wants to get to know it thoroughly. I saw Mrs. Fairweather at a writing desk in the hall working on her letters and Mrs. Murray going towards the greenhouse, but other than that they are all out on the lake." He pointed towards the window, where two triangles of white moved over the water's surface.
William recalled Julia's comments about Mr. Harvey and her explaining that Atkinson was a mathematics professor. "An exercise in geometry and Newton's Laws of Motion?" he offered.
Atkinson's thin lips smiled. "Indeed! There is a billiards room right above here, if you have a mind?"
William assented, hopeful for stimulating conversation. In no time, the two men were so deep in their game and the minutia of an academic argument that neither paid any attention to Philomena Murray when she swanned in.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Grabbing hold of a rail as a sudden gust of wind caught the sail and the boat bounced particularly hard against the wave, Julia laughed as Clinton Harrington swore – he'd been handling the mast.
The boat carrying Dorcas, Keziah, Grant, Bruce, Margaret, Daphne, and Robert did not seem to fare so well, and it almost capsized, drenching Daphne and nearly throwing her overboard. Fortunately, they managed to right the ship quickly.
"No wonder the house was so noisy last night if the wind is gusting like that," Thelma commented with a laugh. "Poor Daphne, if something is going to happen it always happens to her."
Wanting to support her friend as well as squash any nonsense about the house having been visited by supernatural beings, or guesses about a more earthly (and earthy) origin of the sounds, Julia nodded her agreement. "Absolutely," she concurred.
Thankfully, Clyde and Clinton Harrington along with Marcus Murray had gallantly offered to sail the boat allowing Julia, Thelma, Caroline, and Rose to enjoy the ride.
"It really has been far too long since I've gone sailing," Julia commented to Thelma as they knelt on the boat, enjoying the wind blowing through their hair. "I'd forgotten how much I enjoy it."
"Yes, it is one of the things I will miss most about this place." Thelma agreed.
"Julia, if I may, I meant to ask you about your necklace. Whatever is that odd pendant?" Rose pointed to the gold chain peeking out from Julia's jacket.
Julia put her fingers on her throat. Wearing this pendant gave Julia a sort of secret pride she could not explain. "It is from William," Julia defended. "It is an object that theoretically should not even exist: it has only one side and one edge, yet is three dimensional."
Thelma rolled her eyes and teased. "I can't tell if that is romantic or not," getting Rose to giggle right along.
"It is to remind me that nothing is impossible…" Julia added what she hoped was a 'cat who ate the canary' smile. She was not going to mention it also symbolized their very vigorous and satisfying attempts at conception.
For some reason, that answer prompted Thelma to look over at her brother. Samuel Wilmont was also a passenger, but chose to sit apart from everyone else and stare at the lake in deep thought. It was clear that something was bothering him, and he was not at all his typical, relaxed, congenial self. Thelma shook her head with a sad smile, before regaining composure. Julia wondered what could possibly be going on, and made a mental note to find out more later.
Thelma quickly changed the topic of conversation by nudging Julia and motioning towards Clint Harrington and his proximity to Caroline Balfour.
"Should I seat them together tonight?" Thelma asked with a wink.
"I think you must," Julia concurred, laughing in conspiracy.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Philomena had to announce herself to make her presence known, the chagrin obvious in her voice. "Gentlemen. Is there already money changing hands as well?"
"I beg your pardon?" William paused with the cue drawn back and blinked. He realized Philomena Kinney Murray was standing uncomfortably close behind him and he had not noticed until she spoke.
"No, Mrs. Murray. Mr. Murdoch and I are having a friendly game." Atkinson explained. "As soon as he sinks this one we will have finished."
"Good to know," she answered, watching William put the last ball away.
Atkinson racked his cue and walked over to shake hands. "That was most satisfying, William! Perhaps another opportunity for a game and a discussion before the week-end is out?"
"I would like that very much, Josiah." William's sincerity was unmistakable. He'd enjoyed himself immensely for the last couple hours, finally finding a way to fit in to the house party more comfortably…by finding another outsider with an orderly mind.
He worked to re-rack the balls before leaving himself. "And you, Dr. Kinney. How has your morning gone?" he asked out of courtesy.
"It's Phil, please, or Philomena if you must. We cannot be so formal after having spent such an intimate hour or two together this morning—philosophically speaking." She smiled disarmingly at William, and flicked a piece of hair behind her ear. "My morning has been grand. I love men who flaunt all the rules. Imagine, flitching from Cook before breakfast and billiards before noon. How modern; my grandmamma would have fainted…and often did considering how tight her corset was…" She picked up a ball from one of the corner pocket as if to hand it to William. "I am not so inclined to follow all the rules myself. For instance, making sure the proper ball goes in the proper pocket always seemed so boring to me."
William had no idea exactly what she was driving at, so made a polite noise which got her to roll the last ball to him. Since he had no rejoinder so he stuck to something harmless if banal. "I did not get the opportunity to thank you for getting us something to eat earlier. I was very hungry…"
When he looked up she was suddenly very close to him again. He had nowhere to go as the wall was behind him.
"Yes," she said as she cast her grey eyes down. "Going without can make a man – or woman, ravenous. We shall have to look out for each other, shall we not?"
With that she flounced off. William was vaguely disconcerted, but waved it off as par for the course amongst her intellectual, moneyed set. Julia thought highly of her friend Philomena and in fact the woman possessed a lively, curious mind, as he found out this morning.
He checked his timepiece: at twelve thirty, it was another four hours at least until tea. He did not expect the sailing to be over much before three by the time everyone was back on shore and inside, leaving him some time to explore the house and grounds. I think I shall start outside, it is a lovely day after all. Perhaps there is a bicycle in the stables?
One floor up, he collected his boots from their room. On the way back down to the front hall he heard a sob and sounds of a struggle. Instinctively, he raced towards the commotion. A maid was running clumsily down the back stairs, her apron and cap askew. In the other direction, William spied Donald Harvey, who sported a red-faced snarl and his clothing pulled apart, coming out of one of the rooms.
William wasted no time and did not think twice. He put on his best interrogation face and voice, the one that let a suspect know exactly what he really thought of them. "Mr. Harvey. I don't imagine the Wilmont's generosity extends to liberties with their staff. Pull yourself together, out of respect."
If anything Harvey's face got more scarlet. "That's rich, coming from an adulterer!" he spit at William before slamming the door shut behind him.
Heat flowed dangerously through William, instantly more enraged with Harvey's insult than he had even been with that man's predatory behavior, because the insult implied a stain on Julia's character from a creature clearly devoid of any shred of morals.
All of a sudden his pleasant mood evaporated as he checked to make sure no one else overheard the blistering exchange. Breathing out and deliberately unclenching his fists, it took half a minute to unstick himself from the floor and get his feet moving down the stairs and out onto the lawn. It was a full twenty minutes of walking through the property before his mind cleared for any coherent thought, and when it did two things fairly screamed at him for an answer:
One: How many of the house guests are aware of his and Julia's history of notoriety? And two: Was Donald Harvey the man who got Julia pregnant in medical school; the one she did not wish to marry?
His mind swirled with the implications at that last thought and he stopped cold under its weight.