A Death In The Asylum Part 10

*At least few people know where you are.'

*Only those at Stapleford Hall,' I replied.

An uncomfortable silence fell between us. Eventually Bertram said, *I must return to see how Miss Wilton fares.'

*Will you need me?'

*No, the lady will be taking her dinner, if she can manage anything, in her room, so your escort will not be required tonight.'

*People might think her companion should attend her?' I ventured, though the last thing I wanted to do was spend time with someone I felt was both devious and malingering.

*I don't think that would be wise,' said Bertram. *She needs rest, but I appreciate the offer. Why don't you go out and see a little of London for yourself? It's early yet and while a lady could never walk the streets alone I believe many London servants do.'

I smiled and nodded, though his speech daunted me in more than one way. I had no inclination to spend the rest of the day shut up in my room and I did not think the hotel would look kindly on a mere companion sitting alone in the lounging areas. I was dressed too simply. But the thought of wandering through London alone was too daunting. I stood hesitating when my eye caught the attention of the concierge, who smiled encouragingly. He was a tall, wiry chap dressed in a uniform with enough gold material to suggest his importance and not enough that he could be mistaken for a bellboy, who for some reason were inordinately flash. He was also considerably older than me. I walked up to his desk.

*Good evening, miss,' he said in a rumbling voice. *How can I be of service?'

*It seems,' I said awkwardly, *that my services as companion are not required for the rest of the day and my ma-mistress has suggested I take in the London sights. However, I confess I am alarmed at venturing out alone.'

The concierge grinned. *Quite how it should be, miss. It's all very well for those maids to go racketing about unescorted, but for a lady such as yourself it's quite a different matter. You're with Miss Wilton, are you not?'

*Yes, I am,' I said startled at this man's perspicacity.

*A very nice young woman, I'm sure, but new money, I would imagine, and not quite up to how things should be done.'

*Is there something you could suggest I might do to fill my time?' I asked growing increasingly embarra.s.sed.

*There is one of them spiritualists giving a talk in the blue saloon,' said my new friend. *There's a small charge, but we haven't sold many tickets, so I'm sure I could sneak you in. Being as how you are a resident.'

*Oh, I see. I'm not sure.'

*Let me check my list. It's a Madam Arcana.'

My heart skipped a beat. Coincidences do happen in life, but I am always wary of them. *Yes,' I heard myself saying as if my voice came from a long way away. *I have heard of her. It would be most interesting.'

*We'd better be quick then. Come with me, miss.'

He led me down a labyrinth of corridors, some of which I felt certain were servants' pa.s.sageways. Finally, he ushered me through a side door with an entreaty to *Enjoy myself.'

I found myself in a larger saloon than I had expected. It had a large, cavernous feel that was cold and unwelcoming. It was blue and it was filled with rows of corn-coloured chairs. These had been placed in rows facing a dais on which a familiar figure in a purple turban sat. The room was less than half full. I made my way down the aisle as quietly as possible and joined the last row of filled seats.

*Oh-oh-oh,' moaned Madam Arcana, who was either about to enter a trance or had severe food poisoning. I took the opportunity to appraise the audience. There were a number of girls dressed in plain, respectable dresses and which I guessed to be maids on their day out. There were also a goodly number of shabby-genteel women, who I took to be companions. In the front three rows I could see nothing but large feathered hats and these I took to be worn by older matrons, who formed the backbone of Madam Arcana's moneyed following. Standing, trembling near the centre was a woman in her early 20s, whose smart but threadbare skirt and jacket, sensible haircut and face devoid of makeup clearly marked her as a vicar's wife. I imagined her winning the egg-and-spoon race and tumbling along happily in the mothers' sack event.

*The Reverend Dipton says the church roof is more important than the refurbishment of the library,' proclaimed Madam Arcana suddenly. *He says the fete should be used to raise money to shelter the faithful of G.o.d.'

*Are you sure?' said the woman in a nervous voice. *Only my husband is quite clear that the roof will last another winter and the children are so short of books.'

Madam Arcana opened her eyes. *My dear,' she said, *I could not comment on the wisdom of the particular spirit you asked me to contact, but only pa.s.s on what he said.'

*You mean,' said the questioner in a startled voice, *that he might be wrong? I thought on the other side ...'

*Has he long been pa.s.sed?' asked Madam Arcana.

*Some six months. Three months before my husband took the parish.'

*And was he revered as a wise and good man when he was there?'

*I really couldn't say,' said the woman in a tone that implied she very well could.

*He may still be adjusting to the higher vibrations,' said Madam Arcana. *It can take some spirits time to throw off their worldly desires.'

*You mean we could do as we wanted?'

*Was there ever any reason why you shouldn't?'

The woman twisted a handkerchief between her fingers. *The vicarage is so very dark and gloomy. It feels as if he is still there.'

*Then I strongly advise you to have a very happy and busy fete,' said Madam Arcana. *He will see you are looking after his paris.h.i.+oners well and their jollity will extinguish his solemnity.'

*You mean, like a party?' asked the woman brightening. *Oh, what a jolly idea.' She sat down very well pleased with what her s.h.i.+lling or whatever the entrance fee had cost her. I could only imagine the scene when she tried to explain her reasoning to her husband or perhaps she would have more sense.

*Does anyone else have a query?' asked Madam Arcana.

There followed a number of questions about lost dogs, lost wallets, who daughters should marry and the likelihood of an invasion by Germany. I was not once convinced that Madam Arcana was in contact with any spirits, but the dearly departed's a or rather her a advice was always gentle, sensible and inclined to make the questioner think for themselves. I almost approved. I could not say whether it was her deception or the inability of those present to listen to plain, common sense unless it was couched in the mantel of the day that dismayed me more. But then, as my father used to say, there is nothing common about common sense.

When the final question had been asked Madam Arcana indicated the tea trolleys that had been placed in the aisles. (I had been too wrapped up in her performance to notice their arrival.) *Dear ladies and gentleman,' she nodded at the one young man in the audience, *do help yourselves to refreshment. It is all included in your ticket price and after a session such as this we all need to replenish our energies. I will join, but,' she raised a finger and smiled, *no more questions for our spirit friends. On general topics I will be happy to converse.'

There was a murmur then a round of applause. With almost undignified haste seats were pushed back as people made a beeline for the cake. I had intended to sneak away, but a particularly fine macaroon drew my attention and reminded me I had not had any lunch. Besides, there was clearly more than ample cakes unless they all proved to have appet.i.tes like the young vicar's wife. In the time I had hesitated she had polished off two slices of Victoria sponge and an iced biscuit.

*You should certainly help yourself,' said Madam Arcana appearing at my shoulder. *George, the concierge, had strict instructions to ensure you attended.'

*From whom?' I asked.

*Why, me,' said Madam Arcana. *I wanted to ensure you remembered my warning.'

*Beware for my enemies,' I said coldly. *I take it you are referring to Mrs Wilson's unfortunate experience. I am surprised news has reached London so quickly.'

Madam Arcana smiled. *I hear many things from many sources. But what I wished to remind you was that the message referred to enemies in the plural.'

*But I don't have any other enemies,' I said. *Besides, we weren't exactly enemies, I merely disliked her greatly ...' My voice trailed off.

*Excuse me, I have to check on someone,' I said.

Madam Arcana handed me the macaroon. *Take this. You look as if you need it.'

Automatically, I took the confectionary she held out to me, so I was still grasping it in my hand when I arrived breathless and flushed, after several wrong turns, in the main entrance. I turned about me wildly and headed towards the main staircase. On it, descending, I met Bertram, his face streaming with tears.

*Oh, Euphemia,' he said. *She's dead.'

Chapter Seven.

Visiting Mr Edward

Poor Mrs Wilson. A wave of guilt swept over me. I had on more than one occasion wished she did not exist in my life, but I hoped I had never wished her dead. And in such a way.

*Euphemia, did you hear what I said? She's dead?' Bertram's voice broke. His face was as forlorn as Little Joe's had been when his first pet died. Bertram was still two steps above me on the staircase leaving me with a dilemma. I could hardly approach and comfort him. I certainly couldn't push past him and, even if he had the remaining sense to follow me downstairs, we could hardly conclude this conversation in a public place.

*I'm very sorry,' I said. *Perhaps we should ...' I attempted to indicate that we should return upstairs to our rooms.

*But what do I do?'

*I imagine the right thing to do would be to return home at once.'

*But she's up there ...' He faltered and looked up the stairs.

*Dear G.o.d!' I exclaimed. *You can't ... You don't mean Miss Wilton! I thought you meant Mrs Wilson.'

*Why would I care about that old harridan?' said Bertram with more truth than charity. *My poor Beatrice. It has all been too much for her. I found her just now lying in her boudoir no longer breathing.'

*Has a doctor been sent for?' I asked.

Bertram shook his head. *She's dead.'

*It is not always that simple to tell if life is extinguished.' I turned and ran down the stairs to the concierge.

*'Allo,miss. Did you enjoy the show?'

*George, something terrible has happened,' I said in a low voice. *My a the honourable Mr Bertram Stapleford has this moment found Miss Wilton unmoving in her suite. He fears she is dead. Can you send for a doctor at once?'

George's eyes flashed me a look of sharp intelligence. *I should be able to do better than that, miss. The doctor what she sent for is on his way.'

*The doctor what she a that she sent for?' I turned to Bertram, who was now standing behind me. *I thought the doctor had already visited her.'

*That's what she said,' answered Bertram.

*Our man's a Dr Smith. Right good 'un, but very busy. If I'd realised it was so urgent I'd have chased him up.' The concierge looked quite dismayed.

*She had a weak heart,' I explained.

*It could have happened any time,' said Bertram. *It's one of the reasons she lived her life as she did. Running at it. She always knew she might not have enough ...' He swallowed noisily.

*Why that's tragic, sir. Why don't I find you a nice quiet corner and a large gla.s.s of something? We'll get that doctor here toutey sweet. Maybe the young lady's right a maybe it's only a deep sleep or coma sort of a thing.'

He ushered Bertram away, calling to a bellboy to round up Dr Smith and left me waiting at the desk. He was back a few moments later.

*Would you be willing to come up to her room with me, miss?'

*Of course,' I said. Though my father had tried to s.h.i.+eld me of necessity I had come into contact with more than one corpse as a vicar's daughter. And since becoming part of the Stapleford household it would be somewhat of a relief to encounter a natural death.

*It's not like I think there's anything strange going on, but in these circ.u.mstances we 'ave procedures to follow. I should ask the duty manager, but he's on his break.'

*Procedures?' I asked alarmed.

*I need to lock the door. Many of our visitors have travelled widely and there's some nasty things they've brought back. 'Ad she been abroad lately?'

*No, I don't think so. Do many people die in the hotel?'

*All the time,' said the concierge with a twinkle. *Place is only slightly less dangerous than a hospital.'

*What? Oh, I see what you mean. People only go to hospital when they're sick. But the guests?'

*Often old ladies, retired gents, and those that 'ave picked up something nasty. Sheer numbers of people what come through here there's bound to be a dead body every now and then.' He stopped outside her door. *'Ere, you weren't close to this young lady, were you, miss? Only I didn't get that impression. I'm usually good at reading people, but you know no matter how many times it happens on your watch it rattles you a bit. I 'ope I 'aven't been inappropriate, like?'

I shook my head. *We were not friends. I would not have wished her dead, but I can't say I am in any way as distressed as Mr Stapleford.'

*Aye, I can see he had a right fancy for her. But as they say what's for ye won't go by ye.' He slipped the key into the lock. It didn't turn. *Seems like the poor young lady did my job for me before she died.' He shrugged. *There's many can only rest behind a locked door.'

*But shouldn't we check if she is still alive?'

*Do you have any medical training, miss?'

*No,' I said and only just stopped myself from saying, but I have considerable experience with dead bodies.

*Then I doubt there is anything you could do for the lady.'

*But what if she's dying! Alone?'

*Mr Stapleford has reported her dead,' said George. *That's good enough for me.'

*Let me go in,' I urged. *Just to be sure.'

George squared up to me. *No, we don't know what she died of. You're not sure if she's been abroad and I'm betting you have no idea if she's been in contact with someone who has, so I'm putting me foot down. It's a tragedy, but your death would only back it doubly so.'

*I'm sure you're exaggerating,' I said.

*Oh, the tales I could tell you. You'd s.h.i.+ver your skin right off your bones.'