Chapter Four
Once the group came back from sailing, the entire party was enveloped in exuberant spirits Afternoon tea had been a whirl-wind. It occurred to William that he never had prolonged exposure in a social setting to a large group of women before, therefore he did not know if the endless chatter was typical; however it amazed him that the conversation could flow nonstop for hours.
Tea was followed by games of cards for the ladies and more rounds of billiards for the gentlemen. Donald Harvey and Sam Wilmont absented themselves, which was just fine as far as William was concerned, but it did raise his curiosity about their relationship.
I do not know if I'd be able to keep my composure around the man; how does Mr. Wilmont stand him?
William fell into interesting conversations with Mr. Grant King about recent electrical inventions, Mr. Robert Fairweather about chemical solvents and even wandered over to where Miss Daphne Wilmont (not a fan of cards) was plunking some ragtime beats out on the piano.
William noticed, from an outsider's point of view and an investigator's sensibilities, that Julia seemed to fall into the habits and patterns of the past, as if twenty years had been peeled back and lifted away, leaving the college chums younger and brighter. It gave William an interesting window into what the non-academic aspects of college had been for his wife. Julia had not been the leader of the group: not the smartest, richest, funniest or prettiest. She was the boldest. Love filled his heart.
I am not at all surprised.
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Cocktails were at eight o'clock and dinner promptly at nine. William was not completely famished, but he was looking forward to the meal, being used to dining promptly at seven when he was not on a case. In their room, Julia asked William for help to finish dressing, having declined the services of a lady's maid. His fingers made quick work of the hooks for the back of her blue silk bodice, frowning at the bruises he found on her right shoulder and the one he saw on her hip.
"I did not know sailing was a contact sport. That looks like it will get worse before it gets better," William commented and he adjusted a piece of fabric and fastened her necklace on, pleased she had chosen to wear it.
"Oh. So now you are a forensic specialist in hematomas?" Julia shot back affectionately as she completed her toilette.
William merely smiled. He'd managed to give nothing away about his own occupation all day, just as he managed to avoid being asked to play Bridge. The hostesses and female guests in the house were obsessed with it, Julia among them, so he'd had scant ability to catch up with her day before now. William hemmed and hawed about telling Julia about Donald Harvey's behavior. He certainly was not about to confess about his interaction with Philomena because he did not know what to make of it. Julia was having a fine time, so he did not wish to disturb it.
In the relative privacy of their room before supper, Julia was able to share her own observations of the day and her friends.
"It's entirely possible that I'm being overly sensitive, but you should have heard the way some of the ladies spoke about their children – their own flesh and blood, William! Keziah and Rose spoke of them as they were burdens, and even Margaret spoke of the difficult time they were going to have in finding an eligible suitor for their youngest child who in her exact words "was far too plain and bookish for her own good," Julia fumed.
He was surprised. The men he spoke with seemed quite contented with their fatherhood; of course that may be because their wives did most of the work and worry. "I am certain that we will chart a different course for any children we have, and that we will share any joys or burdens that come with it." He wanted to get off the topic of children for more than one reason, concerned that Julia was the only one of her married cohort who was childless.
He took her in his arms for a kiss, which seemed to distract her nicely.
"Mmmm…lovely. I hope the house party is not too boring for you. Did you find some to talk with? I did not see Daphne after tea or Grant King," she asked when she surfaced from the kiss.
"I believe they were otherwise occupied." When Julia demanded more details, he reluctantly gave them. "I saw Miss Wilmont and Mr. King strolling in the garden with the dog. They, er… broke apart when I approached them." He coughed. "I cannot tell the Harrington twins apart, but one of them was helping Miss Balfour with her golf swing." He arched his eyebrows. "I'd say romance was in the air."
"Did you not know that, William? Yes, escapades of a carnal nature are often a popular pastime at a house party. If you were to set out your scrutiny camera, you would capture quite a few individuals traveling from one bedroom to another. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn't be surprised if more than one guest had taken a fancy to you. You don't have plans to go skulking about later, do you?" she joked.
His mouth got dry. Julia did not make it a question so he kept his peace.
"I never have understood why Caroline never married …she could have had her choice of men. She was engaged our final year, but did you know her fiancé suddenly disappeared? No one knows what happened to him. It really was quite strange." she shrugged. "However, she does seem quite interested in Clint Harrington."
"How does she tell them apart?" was William's sly question.
Julia made a face. "No idea. I always assumed that she just wanted to be single, so why the sudden change after all these years? I'm not sure. But Thelma has decided to seat them together at dinner tonight. Who knows? I know Daphne was quite sweet on Grant King back in the day, maybe she'll make her own move at dinner?"
"We shall have to discretely observe, perhaps share a whisper or two," he offered.
"Unfortunately, I don't think that we will be seated next to each other. Married couples rarely are, and I don't know with whom we will sit."
Seeing William's face, she frowned. "William, I don't know why that's the way that it is, it just is. You'd better save at least one dance for me, in fact perhaps we should be scandalous and dance with no one else but each other," she posited. "I do hope I will not sit anywhere near Donald Harvey – anyone else is acceptable." She noticed William stiffening. "What? Did you have a run in with him?"
He hesitated. These were old friends of hers and he wished to tread lightly, even if she already indicated Harvey was a boor. I so want to ask her if Harvey had ever hurt her in the past. He decided on a half-truth. "I caught him molesting one of the chambermaids. He was unhappy to have gotten my attention over it."
Julia paused for a moment, setting the earring down she'd been holding. "Had he forced himself on her? Had she been violated?" Julia asked, anger in her eyes.
"No, not so much as I could tell anyway. I saw her escaping and he was quite angry. I would hope that meant that he hadn't had time to uh, finish," William answered with a flourish of his hand.
"Let's hope so. Still, I will inform Thelma about this. Even if Samuel will allow nothing to happen to Donald, she'll at least make sure the poor girl is taken care of," she resignedly answered, picking her earring back up and putting them in.
Taking in a deep breath, she shook her head as to clear her thoughts and rose from the dressing table.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked, twirling around.
Here, she was free to be Mrs. Murdoch, a woman of means with a handsome husband, and differentiate herself from the admittedly dowdy girl she had been at school. Tonight, she needn't be mindful of her own professional position nor William's. Here, she could wear the latest and most fashionable designs from Paris-even if they were quite scandalous.
"It is exquisite." William pronounced…and it was. This dress was a turquoise silk gown trimmed with silver lace as well as silver embroidery along the bias and hem of the skirt. Not only was the dress sleeveless, it also featured a rounded, plunging neckline in the front and the back. She was displaying an uncharacteristic amount of skin, and William was conflicted about it. He had never seen her wear anything like it since she'd been married to Darcy.
"You are exquisite, Julia," he added.
She took in a deep breath and smiled. She loved the way he looked at her, pride writ across his face.
"Well," Julia informed him, tying his tie and straightening his waistcoat with a suggestive glance. "I dare say, I will enjoy the attention I will get with such a fine specimen as you escorting me," Julia purred as she ran her hands up and down his chest. "Whomever does get to sit next to you best behave herself, or I shall have to take action," she commented, squeezing his biceps.
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The hearth's bright fire added to a cheery atmosphere in the drawing room with twinkling candelabras and electrified chandelier, in direct contrast to the rain pelting down outside. Skidoo was curled on the hearth, making canine grunts of contentedness. Friday's calm and the afternoon's breezes has been erased by a weather-front from the northwest which had moved in an hour past sunset. This made the guests pronounce themselves ever more self-satisfied for having had the good fortune (and taste) to have enjoyed the out of doors earlier in the day.
William was happy to squire Julia down the stairs and into that room, wearing the jewel he commissioned for her, flashing at her throat. He nodded a greeting to Dorcas Harvey and Leonetta Fairweather, as his gaze swept the room. Oddly, Philomena and Marcus Murray were digging into the couch cushions with their hostess. William gave Julia a questioning glance.
"I am certain they are helping Thelma find her glasses," she whispered. "She is always losing them and is blind as a bat without them. Honestly, if she'd just wear eyeglass strings…"
The Atkinsons and Nottinghams were already engaged in lively conversation with each other and Caroline Balfour, while Mr. Fairweather, the Harringtons, Samuel Wilmont and Donald Harvey were obviously discussing business.
William's eye stuck on Harvey, trying to imagine what the man might have looked like when he was younger. I wonder what any woman might have seen in him, he thought uncharitably.
"How gauche," Margaret Swift commented by shifting her head towards the knot of men as she joined William and Julia. Margaret had on a particularly flattering shade of dusky blue, Julia noticed.
"I imagine Donald ensnared the others who do not wish to be impolite," she continued.
"Sometimes I swear my work is all I ever have time to talk about," Julia said under her breath, as Grant King and Daphne Wilmont came over.
Mr. King spoke up, having heard Julia's admission. "One is not permitted to discuss relationships, politics or religion either, in addition to money." He gave a sarcastic smile. "So of course almost nothing else is of any interest," he joked.
Daphne laughed prettily, smoothing the gown in deep violet silk, paired with a green shawl which she wore to cover bare shoulders. Matching violet silk shoes peeked out from under the hem. "Mixing business with pleasure has never been appropriate in polite society."
"Which is why gentlemen have all their clubs and secret societies in which to conduct it, to the exclusion of women!" Thelma brought herself up to stand next to her sister. She wore a gown in blazing sunset hues which flattered her colouring and a small coronet in her hair.
Julia lifted her glass. "Here, here!" She surreptitiously elbowed William who raised his glass of cider.
Margaret and Julia giggled while Grant laughed out loud. Leonetta and Dorcas rose to investigate what was so funny. "Honestly they are too serious over there," Margaret griped. "Join us, please. I see you have a Gin Fizz, Dorcas. Looks yummy.
"But if Mr. King is correct that those topics are off limits, I suppose that the only topic left to us is whether or not Mrs. Keppel is still the King's favorite mistress," Julia insouciantly said while quaffing her champagne. A servant quickly came to refill it.
"How now, Mrs. Murdoch," Grant King admonished with a laugh. "Of course you must tell me what you know," he asked.
William had heard similar conversations amongst groups of men and from the Inspector, but he'd never thought he'd hear it from a mixed-group of polite company.
A huge gust of wind rattled the windows, moving the curtains in a slow swell, then lightening cracked, lighting up the sky followed by a deep rumble of thunder. Leonetta jumped. "Thank goodness we are inside," her cheeks flaring in embarrassment. "I do hope it dies down before we retire for the evening. I could not stand one more night of that ghastly noise."
"You mean ghostly, do you not?" Dorcas asked.
William could not tell if she was teasing or not.
Apparently Dorcas was serious. "This place comes with its own graveyard."
Leonetta looked over her shoulder as if someone touched her. "No!"
"That is not unusual on an old family property," Thelma said reasonably.
"Yes, very true." William interjected. "I saw it on my walk today. Quiet, peaceful and lovely. Hardly sinister."
Undeterred, Dorcas insisted on the topic. "Donald tells me he is convinced the house is haunted or cursed. I understand many people have died here over the years. He even says there was a murder ten years ago. In November." She dropped her voice dramatically. "The Lakeside Lasher."
Julia saw Thelma's frown and Daphne's eyes get bigger. Oh, oh…trouble.
"A man was found with his throat torn out…after a full moon." Dorcas' words sent Leonetta to shrinking even more. "Is there nowhere safe?"
"That was not out here," Grant King defended, then realized he should not have mentioned that either. He sighed when Margaret prompted him. "I am sorry Dorcas, but your husband is sometimes a little loose with his facts. The victim ten years ago was an attorney in Newcastle who originally started my law firm. He was obviously killed by a wild animal that wandered in from the forest. Wolf or bear perhaps."
Leonetta whispered, "How dreadful."
"There is nothing to worry about." Thelma assured her. "Sometimes a wolf is spotted too close to a farm. We also do get the occasional male black bear in the spring or coming down to the salmon runs, but it is currently the wrong season for that."
"Are you absolutely sure there is nothing to those 'Lakeside Lasher' legends?" Leonetta was practically begging to be told 'no.'
"I am quite certain." He gave a derisive laugh. "People who ignore the facts can make up any manner of foolishness, especially for consumption by the gullible. For example, later on we heard a fantastic story that some policeman, in Toronto of all places, believed it to have been a revenge killing committed by a man pretending to be a wolf. This from someone who never came here, never saw the body. How absurd!"
William and Julia looked at each other, recalling that case and the truth of it. "Actually…"
A sweet-sounding bell chimed, then Thelma interrupted to announce supper. "Ladies and gentlemen, please proceed to the dining room and take your places!
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Of all people! Julia would have stamped her foot if it would not have made her look weak and ridiculous. With a glance at Thelma who shook her head apologetically, Julia tried her best not scowl at the thought of sitting next to Donald Harvey. Oh well, someone has to do it. At least I will stand up to him! She saw that Daphne was sitting on this right, and they rolled their eyes at each other in solidarity.
If it hadn't been Thelma who had placed her, it must have been Samuel who had sat the two together. Her opinion of guilt was further reinforced when Samuel refused to look at her. At least Bruce Nottingham was seated on her left, giving her a pleasant dinner companion. William was seated between Philomena and Keziah Atkinson, seeming to be holding his own by mostly listening to Samuel and the Harringtons try to correct Donald on his pompous yet erroneous pronouncements on a variety of topics. Julia was reminded of a scatological observation about opinions being like a certain body part….
Initially, she'd been so happy to be scandalous and not her usual, guarded self, but now, she regretted her choice of dress. She felt far too exposed as she caught Harvey leering at her half way through the soup course. He started a rambling discourse on social relations between men and women, and their proper spheres of influence. "Women are disruptive in the workplace. Women cannot possibly be as effective on the job and the male workers get distracted from their labours into liaisons…"
"You assume all men are the same I suppose, and all women for that matter. I happen to know some women would object…but then again, you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Julia quipped acidly, immediately regretful for Dorcas' sake.
Donald had no such compunctions. "A man of my wealth and position can have any woman I want, and women let me…"
Julia saw the shocked silence of conversation and utensils momentarily caught Donald left-footed. She could see the struggle within him: loving being center of attention versus his needing to control the image he presents.
Donald took in a calming breath, before launching his counter attack. "I must say that I'm surprised your husband allowed you to wear such a dress this evening, Mrs. Murdoch. Or does he not care about the attentions you attract from other men?" his voice oozed sarcasm.
"Or perhaps I chose to wear what I wanted, and my husband doesn't get to have approval over what I choose," Julia retorted.
"If I were your husband, you would not have that say. All authority would rest with me, and such an outfit implies that you are advertising your openness to partake in immoral activities later this evening," the man guffawed.
William was uncomfortable to be overhearing the topic of conversation, unsure if he should intervene in some way… Or challenge Donald to a duel. He smirked to himself. Julia would kill me… Harvey's wife, Dorcas, was sitting across from William and could not possibly have missed hearing this, as her husband's comment was rather loud. However the woman was immune to such topics or had long ago chosen oblivion, as she seemingly paid the conversation no mind.
To his left, Philomena made a tsk tsk noise. "I find possessiveness to be a measure of insecurity," she commented in a low voice only for his hearing. "As if your wife, or his, were a commodity."
William nodded to her, as he tended to agree. He felt sorry for Dorcas Harvey who was quietly applying herself to her soup with eyes fixed on the bowl. William tried to do the same. Unfortunately, Philomena followed up her commentary with a hand on his left leg. He froze up, shocked at her behavior, before repositioning his napkin to brush her away. He made eye-contact with her, but she only grinned and shrugged as if it was accidental.
Julia for her part found she could not help herself. Donald Harvey was an all-around cad. "Well, most luckily for me that you are not my husband, Mr. Harvey. Besides, I believe that you are the least appropriate person here to lecture me on morality," she countered.
When the entire table laughed at her quick riposte, Donald Harvey chose to say nothing more, and Julia followed his lead. Manners be damned; she was more than happy to ignore the boor, even though she knew he was at this very moment plotting his revenge on her. Instead she focused on chatting with Bruce, her third course of salmon en croute and her glass of Sauvignon while reassuring William's concern with a shake of her head and a smile.
Her smile grew wider when she saw the look of hatred that William briefly shot in Harvey's direction. She'd wondered about his the oddly restrained look on his face before.
The one-story dining room, while large, was obviously another add-on to the main house. William thought it might have originally been part of a wide veranda which was later modified and enclosed. The sounds of the storm built with each dish appearing from the kitchen and in no time the house itself was protesting with shrieks and howls from the battering of wind and rain it was receiving. During the dessert course of peach crisp with hard sauce, the rain poured down so fiercely on the roof, the lights flickered and dimmed with the deluge making conversation a strain.
Then with a huge "BOOM" the electric lights cut out. The only illumination came from lightning strikes, throwing watery shadows throughout the room.
From her right, Julia heard a scream, and she guessed that it had to be the ever high-strung Leonetta, overacting as she typically did. "Woo-woo-woo" was Skidoo's commentary from the other room.
"It's all right everyone, just give us a moment. We'll have this taken care of in no time," Thelma reassured her guests as servants rushed past, hurrying to light the gas lamps along one wall and place candles on the table.
Just then, Julia felt a hand brush the side of her breast and trace her neckline, his fingers settling and plunging between her breasts.
She didn't need to think twice about to whom the hand might belong, and with little thought, she stabbed his hand with her fork. She was rewarded by a shriek that was not related to the storm outside.
I may have had to endure his attentions and advances in University, but I'll be damned if I do so again.
Within moments, the lamps were lit, and Donald Harvey was seen wrapping his hand in a linen napkin, glowering at Julia.
"Mr. Harvey, my goodness. Was that you? Pardon me. How ever did your hand get so close to my plate?" she intoned, and was rewarded with a snicker from both Daphne and Caroline.
She wasn't sorry…quite the contrary, she was quite pleased with herself. The snickers and knowing smiles around the table told her that everyone knew what he had been doing, and that she wasn't in the least bit embarrassed. She focused on William, who wore a mixture of both pride and anger upon his face.
Julia basked in his pride; she knew the fury was for Donald Harvey.
"Do you suppose the lights will come back on?" two men asked at about the same time.
William offered his own speculation. "I doubt it. Either the generator was hit or a tree came down on the transmission lines. No one will be able to repair either until morning and the derecho stops." Several of the sailors in the room nodded, having a similar understanding of the kind of storm they were experiencing.
Samuel, as host, tried to get the conversation flowing again, with speculation about the upcoming April Intercalated Games in Athens, Greece. Although more appropriate for after dinner, the men at the table pounced on a safe topic, with Bruce Atkinson detailing his witnessing the Hamilton road race which featured Billy Sherring. "He's Canada's hope for the marathon this spring," Bruce was enthusiastic which started a gentleman's argument about choosing Mr. Sherring over other club members. Since Canada was not sending cyclists, William had little to contribute.
The downpour outside did nothing to mask Daphne's dramatic sigh cutting across the table. "Without the power on there will not be any music. Now we shall not be able to have our dance!" she lamented to Grant King at her elbow.
Thelma agreed with her sister. "Yes, I am sorry ladies, I suppose we can try charades after coffee," she suggested.
William was a little disappointed; Daphne had promised a variety of recordings for a new electric Victrola player, including the syncopated ragtime music he was hoping to share with Julia. He was horrified of charades, sending his wife what he hoped were signals to beg excuses for getting out of it.
William saw Daphne continued to pout while pushing her peaches around. Grant appeared to lean over to comfort her, then excused himself.
William waited patiently for the hostess to declare the end of the meal so he could excuse himself and persuade Julia to go to their room. The table was cleared down to the wood, then coffee, nuts and chocolates were set around. Unfortunately the conversation became stilted, centering again on the storm.
Julia saw their hostess getting desperate and was about to try and rescue the situation when Grant King reappeared, slightly waterlogged, with a devilish grin on his face. "Samuel, Thelma, if I may?" he announced as much as asked. "I have arranged a Gypsy séance for us in the drawing room. What is more perfect than that on a dark and stormy night?"
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It took a fair amount of nudging, but the guests trooped from the dining room to the drawing room to sit at a hastily arranged scene. Mr. Shaggis, tall and thin, was bent double trying to pull the dog out from under a table where the animal had taken up cowering. The gardener craned his long neck to make eye contact. "Come, Skidoo. We'll get us some dinner." William saw how torn the beast was: food versus safety.
Food won, allowing the pair of them to find the kitchen.
At a round table for eight, a dark-haired woman, swathed in bright silk scarves sat calmly with the center of the table jammed with blazing candles. Her eyes were clouded. There were two concentric circles of chairs – one pulled up to the table and twelve in a second outer band. Donald and Samuel sat next to each other; Margaret, Julia, Bruce, Daphne, Caroline and Marcus were selected to sit at the table as well, with everyone else seated behind. The storm's crashing noise was lessened in this room, even though the curtains still undulated with the wind gusts.
"Where did you get her?" Clyde Harrington threw to Grant as everyone was settling in. Several other guests leaned in to hear the answer.
"She is the sister of the Wilmont's stableman, Baylis," Grant answered. "We scraped an acquaintance when I went for a ride early this morning."
William looked closely at the woman and motioned to his own eyes. Grant caught the gesture. "Yes, she is quite blind, but she has the Gypsy 'sight'!"
Julia was perplexed to see that William was going along with this entertainment. He was seated between Leonetta and Clyde, directly behind her, so she leaned back to point this out.
"I can't believe that William Murdoch is agreeing – happily no less – to a séance. What's next? Are you going to allow her to read your cards?" she asked with a laugh.
"I have no objection to entertainment, Julia," he whispered. "This is not the first séance I have attended."
This shocked her. "William Murdoch at a séance?!
"Yes. With Miss Pensall. After this is over I may tell you about it."
"I certainly hope that it wasn't a private séance, William," Julia warned. "What else have you neglected to tell me, dear husband?" she asked as she pulled him in for a kiss in full view of the others.
He momentarily resisted then merely lifted a corner of his mouth at her public display of affection.
"Julia…" William cocked an eyebrow as she playfully hit his chest.
Propriety be damned. Besides, what better way to let Donald and anyone else know that I'm not interested in any late night visits.
The Gypsy woman tapped her fingers on the table to silence the group. Gathering her composure with several deep breaths, she began: "There is anger here. And fear." Her voice was clear and bell-like, belonging to a much younger woman. "Please, hold hands and be quiet. I will attempt to bring messages to you from the un-restful spirits which walk tonight."
"Beware false prophets," Donald Harvey quipped to the room.
A certain amount of tittering was quickly suppressed. The woman began by closing the lids over her opalescent eyes and after a moment she began to sway slightly. "The past and the present are parted by a heartbeat. The present and the future are only separated by a breath."
Another titter erupted, followed by shushing.
Ignoring it all, the woman was very still. Her eyes never opened turning first in Marcus' direction.
"I have a message from your father. I want to say that he is proud of you; he called you "little custard" when you were just a boy and it made you so mad…." She paused and smiled slightly. "You have learned not to take your dignity so seriously." Another pause. "He is not sure if that is for the best."
Then nothing. Marcus's eyes were wide open and he nodded silently.
She swiveled her blind face towards Julia's direction next. "You will reveal your true self tonight."
Leonetta made a small mewling sound behind her. Julia had no idea what to make of that or the Gypsy's pronouncement, so she commented: "Perhaps I already have," half aloud and half under her breath. The room tittered again until a glare from Grant King silenced them all.
To Caroline's direction she said: "A young man is with you, always." Caroline gasped, nearly dropping her hands from the circle when a new roll of thunder boomed. "But your wishes will not come true."
Samuel shifted in his seat as the Gypsy turned her head his way. "Three can keep a secret, if two are dead." Donald Harvey grunted at her words, but the snort from Samuel was loud and angry. He pushed away from the table, muttering about making sure the servants were locking up properly.
Rose took his place excitedly, and so it went for about a half an hour of odd or vague pronouncements, including a person finding out too late they have been cursed by their own actions.
The entertainment broke up, releasing the guests to their own devices. A few lingered by the fire, perhaps to fend off a long, cold, dark trek upstairs to the bedrooms to listen to the storm which continued unabated. The staff laid out oil lamps for the journey but it was eerie none-the-less.
Julia was trying a bit of humour to lighten the mood when they heard a blood-freezing scream. "Daphne? That's Daphne!" Julia recognized her voice. "William, where is that coming from?"
William grabbed an oil lamp and went directly down the hall to the music room, following the high-pitched wailing emanating from there, with several other guests following in his wake. On the floor of the music room was Leonetta Fairweather, and standing over her was Daphne, her bright red hair coming out of its pins and part of her violet skirts drawn up in one fist and held to her mouth, the other hand pointing to the floor.
"She's dead! Leonetta is dead! It's the Lakeside Lasher!"