The Deeds of the Disturber - Elizabeth Peters [145]
Darkness had fallen, and I was pleased to see that the skies were overcast. Tendrils of fog curled languidly among the trees in the park; no doubt it would lift when we were out of London, but there might be a river mist. I sincerely hoped so.
The drive was a long one, and as the cab clattered through the busy streets, I went over my plans. I had left the letter for Inspector Cuff on the hall table, with directions that it was to be delivered immediately. I had my weapons. I had the strength of righteous indignation to support me – and the expectation that I would soon be in the presence of that being who was all in all to me.
I did wonder how the devil Emerson had figured it out. He had not heard Ayesha’s speech, and I had not repeated the crucial sentence, since it had had no meaning to me at the time. How then did Emerson know that a ceremony of some sort was taking place that night? Perhaps he did not know. Perhaps he had gone there searching for the evidence he needed (as did I) to substantiate his theory. But to Mauldy Manor he had gone, I was as certain of that as if I had followed him there. It was the only logical place to find what was lacking in my reconstruction of the case.
It was less than two hours until midnight when I directed the cab driver to let me out, a safe distance from the gates of the manor. I suppose he cannot be blamed for thinking the worst; a solitary female swathed in a hooded black cloak, who demands to be put down on a country road not far from the habitation of a man whose reputation is not of the best, must expect to have her motives questioned. The driver’s parting remark has no bearing on the present narrative.
Moon and stars were hidden under heavy clouds, and mist spread a blanket of white over the surface of the river. As I stole silently towards the gate, a lurid glow of red brightened the clouds, and a faint growl of thunder announced its presence. A storm was brewing.
Lighted windows in the lodge warned me from the gate. It would be locked at this hour – all the more so if the activities I expected were about to take place – and I did not want to be seen. I had to follow the wall for some distance before I found a place where I could get over it, with the help of a tall elm that overhung the top. The cursed cloak kept catching on thorns and branches, but I did not dare discard it. Underneath I wore the most subdued of my working costumes, and although its colour was such as to blend with the shadows, my outline (as Emerson had often remarked) would have betrayed me for a woman.
By means of the lightning flashes, which increased in frequency and intensity as the storm rumbled closer, I made my way from tree to tree and shrub to shrub across the wide empty lawn. I had expected dogs, and was pleased to learn I had been mistaken, though it struck me as a little strange that a young bachelor would not have such animals around – as guards if not as pets. I remembered what Emerson had said about his lordship’s fondness for cats, and a shudder of revulsion ran through me. Resolutely I fixed my mind on other things. I was prepared for the worst; there was no point in brooding over it beforehand.
The grounds were absolutely deserted, without a sign of man or beast. In fact, if I had not known better, I would have supposed Lord Liverpool was away from home. There were no lights in the inhabited wing of the house, except for a few on the uppermost floor, which must be the servants’ quarters.
I had the plan of the place clearly in mind from my earlier visit. It was arranged like the letter E – the greater portion of the present house having been constructed during the reign of Elizabeth, whose monumental ego