The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [117]
Emerson, on his part, was preoccupied and distant. At breakfast he hid behind a newspaper, ignoring the eager questions of Percy, who had heard (from Ramses, I assumed) about our most recent adventure. His reiterations of ‘I say, how exciting!’ were a trifle irritating.
‘What a handsome pocket knife,’ I said – for Percy had taken it from his pocket and was fingering it in a manner bound to arouse dire apprehensions in the mother of a male child. ‘Ramses has one very much like it. His papa gave it to him, on the condition that he must never whittle on the furniture.’
‘I would never do that, Aunt Amelia,’ Percy assured me. ‘My papa gave me this one. Isn’t it splendid? See, it has three blades and a fishhook –’
‘Very nice, Percy. No, Violet, you have already had two muffins, and that is one too many. Ramses . . .’
But for once Ramses was not doing anything he should not have been doing. His bruises had blossomed into multicoloured splendour overnight, and his face was almost as introspective as his father’s.
‘Yes, Mama?’ said Ramses, with a start.
‘Nothing. Emerson, is there anything of interest in the newspapers?’
‘No facts we do not already know, Peabody. The Standard remarks that lawless outrages of that kind could never occur under a Conservative government, and the Daily News observes that it must have been a harmless prank committed by a few high-spirited young gentlemen.’
‘What a pity you weren’t able to catch the fellow, Uncle Radcliffe,’ said Percy. ‘This is the second time you’ve let him get away, isn’t it?’
His eyes were as wide and innocent as a baby’s.
Mauldy Manor, the ancient seat of the Earls of Liverpool, is on the river near Richmond. I was looking forward to seeing it, since, by all accounts, it was a picturesque and venerable pile whose foundations were rumoured to have been laid at the same time as the earliest structures of the Tower of London. Besides architectural distinction, it had the usual claims to historic fame; Charles II had lain concealed there for a night before escaping to Holland (hence the prevalence of the distinctive Stuart features in that area); Edward II had been tortured in one of the dungeons before being removed to Berkeley; and practically everyone connected in any way with the Wars of the Roses had laid siege to the place. (The Earls of Liverpool were notable for their facility in changing sides.) No collection of supernatural tales could be complete without references to Mauldy’s proud repertoire: the White Lady, the Black Dog, the Headless Elizabethan Courtier, and the Ghostly Carriage, drawn by skeleton horses.
Emerson was resplendent in frock coat, silk hat, and dark trousers. He had assumed this costume without any urging from me, which made me wonder what he was up to. I had had a little difficulty deciding what to wear. The honour of the Emerson-Peabodys demanded my best frock and parasol, but the good sense of the latter suggested that a more practical costume might be advisable, should I find myself compelled to beat a hasty retreat or defend myself against attack. After all, his lordship was one of my suspects. I could not imagine why he should want to kill Oldacre, or do a number of the other things that had been done, but a suspect he was, nevertheless, and to venture into the ivy-encrusted and mouldering recesses of his ancestral castle without my trusty belt might be foolish.
Emerson’s decision to accompany me relieved me of my concern on that score and I decided on a frock my dressmaker had just finished. (I have not described my visits to her establishment, since such details are not worthy of inclusion in a journal devoted to scholarly and detectival activities, but the Reader must recall that soon after arriving in London I made arrangements for a new wardrobe.) The ensemble, called a visiting dress, was of shell-pink moire with a black, wide belt of morocco leather, and black braid in