Circle of Shadows

PART II
II.1

2 May 1784, outskirts of Ulrichsberg, capital of Maulberg

Harriet felt the jolt of the carriage and the papers she was reading slid from her hand. She bit her lip to silence a curse and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again Crowther was holding the fallen sheets towards her. She took them with a nod, and both returned to their reading. She could hear Michaels on the roof of the carriage haranguing the driver. Graves was sitting opposite her, occasionally lifting his neck and making the vertebrae crack. She fought to focus her attention once more on the documents in her hand.

The journey had been a foul one. The sulphurous and heavy summer of 1783 had given way to a winter more severe than anyone living in England could remember. Now the ice cracked, and across Europe the rivers swelled and beat at their banks. The crossing of the Channel had left Crowther grey with fatigue and even Mrs Westerman took no pleasure in being at sea again. Then the roads that led them from the coast of Denmark, through Prussia, down towards the forests and hills of the south, were treaclish with mud and full of these sudden dips and lurches. Still, such was the determination with which they pressed forward, it had become clear the party would reach the Palace of Ulrichsberg only a little after Easter.

With the ringing of the bells for that festival, the weather began to improve. The rivers calmed themselves, retreated to their usual boundaries and looked innocent once more. The roads started to dry and the sun to show itself, and in showing itself revealed to the occupants of the carriage a world gradually greening with a late spring. The fresh leaves of the beech and ash fluttered open, the oak shook up its greenery and the verges were cheerful with wild flowers. Even the air smelled more hopeful. But the travelling chaise still carried winter in it. The faces of its occupants were drawn and weary, as if the sunlight could not reach them. There was some advantage in the rigours they faced, however, since these had left them too tired to be afraid of what awaited them in Maulberg.

They had crossed the border early in the morning of 2 May. Great packets of letters and documents, bundled and sealed, were handed to them and they were asked to retire to the parlour of the Customs House as their luggage was politely searched. Harriet tore at the strings while the gentlemen watched.

‘Clode is alive,’ she said at once. ‘The investigation into the death of Lady Martesen continues.’ She heard Graves exhale. The fear that Clode might have been condemned and executed before they had even crossed into Europe had been with her every hour since they left England, but she had never given it voice. Only on hearing the air escape from Graves’s lungs now did she realise that he had feared the same thing — that they had ridden so hard to collect a body and a widow. ‘He is being held at Castle Grenzhow.’

There was a rap at the door and a gentleman in a magnificent uniform of green and gold entered. He introduced himself as Major Auwerk of the Duke of Maulberg’s Turkish Hussars, and in fluent French welcomed them to Maulberg.

‘I have sent on my best rider to inform the court of your arrival,’ he said with a bow. ‘My company shall ride with you into Ulrichsberg. Apartments have been set aside for you at the palace.’

Harriet had often complained of the inadequacy of her education, but her father had taken advantage of the fact that one of his parishioners had been born in Paris to insist that both his daughters learn the language; now they spoke excellent French. Nevertheless her steady fear, then her sudden relief, silted up her tongue.

‘Our thanks, Major,’ she said. ‘My sister?’

The Major smiled. ‘Is also in residence and in good health to the best of my knowledge.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘It seems the formalities are completed. Your man and maid have been watching our officials like hawks.’

He bowed again and offered Harriet his arm back to the waiting carriage.

The packets were found to contain copies of every document Krall’s investigations had produced in the previous weeks. Rachel’s note which accompanied them was short; warm words wishing for their speedy arrival. They were the first words of Rachel’s Harriet had seen since the messenger had delivered her wild and confused letter. Harriet read the note very carefully and a number of times before handing it to Crowther then attacking the seals on the official documents.

The District Officer, Herr von Krall, had signed and stamped each one. It seemed he had been very thorough, and as a further courtesy, the papers had been translated into English for the convenience of the accused and his friends. There were descriptions of Oberbach, a map of its principal buildings, detailed testimony from the friends and companions of Lady Martesen and from Rachel herself. There was an account of the examination of Lady Martesen’s body and a careful description of the room in which she was found. The language was legal, dry, the accumulating detail horrific to Harriet. After weeks of knowing nothing, she felt her mind constrict as if it now wished to avoid knowing too much.

They divided the papers between them and the beauties of Maulberg were ignored. The cultivation of the land went unnoticed, the ruins of ancient towers along the Neckar glowered in vain, the cheerful faces of the peasantry received no friendly glances from the finely dressed inhabitants of the coach. It rattled on. They read.

‘This is very strange.’

Harriet heard Crowther speak and looked up. Her head ached. She was trying to absorb the names on the papers in front of her. Each person mentioned seemed to have a string of titles that must have reduced the scribe to tears.

‘You are reading the account of the examination of the body, Crowther?’

‘I am. Have you the document that details the initial discovery of Lady Martesen?’

She looked through the papers on her lap. The air was still cold enough for her to need her gloves and they made her fingers awkward.

‘No, all I have here are accounts of her activities in the weeks preceding her murder. Card parties and salons. Her pleasure at being chosen as a lady-in-waiting to the new Duchess when she arrives. It seems she all but lived at court.’

‘I wonder if it made her rich,’ Graves said, and Harriet looked up at him, eyebrows raised. ‘Many of these small German courts are terribly corrupt, Mrs Westerman. Large sums of money are given in exchange for honours or lucrative positions, often via the women of the court.’

‘It says here her estate and jewels are left to her cousin, the Countess Judith Dieth, but does not say what the amount is. You are well informed, Graves,’ Harriet said.

Graves gave a rather lopsided grin. ‘I have had to become so. The financial interests of my ward extend into too many of these statelets. I have the document you want, Crowther,’ he added, juggling papers.

‘Would you tell me what it says?’ Crowther asked.

‘It is the District Officer, von Krall’s own account,’ Graves said, running his finger down the page while Crowther set aside his own papers. The spring sunlight gleamed hopefully on the silver head of his cane and was ignored. ‘He says the back parlour and bedroom of the haberdasher’s in Oberbach had been hired by Colonel Padfield to allow his party to change into their carnival costumes on their arrival in the town. Oberbach is some eight miles from the town of Ulrichsberg where all our principals reside in or near the court. Rachel and Daniel had been given the honour of rooms at the palace. I should think so too, the amount their Treasury owes to Thornleigh. Well, at some point after the main parade in Oberbach was done, the better people went to dance in the Town Hall’s Council Chambers. It seems Daniel appeared drunk.’ Harriet shook her head. In the four years she had known him, she had never seen Daniel the worse for drink. ‘I know, Mrs Westerman. I do not believe it either, but he seems to have been behaving oddly,’ Graves continued. ‘Now Colonel Padfield took him outside, and went to fetch water for him. When he returned, Daniel was gone. Padfield searched the immediate area and found no sign. Returned to Rachel and his wife to tell them what had passed, then went to look again with a couple of his friends.’ Graves glanced up at his two companions. Harriet turned away as if to admire the view, but saw nothing. ‘It is just as Padfield wrote in his letter to you. He thought to go back to the room where they had prepared for the party, and found the door locked — but he says he heard a noise within. There was no response to his calls, so he and another man broke down the door. Lady Martesen was lying dead in the centre of the room. There follow details of her costume … Her eyes were bloodshot and there was a deep wound to her left wrist.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Daniel was crouched in the corner of the room, bleeding heavily from wounds to his own wrists. He seemed to have no idea where he was or what he was about. Good God, to see it set down like this …’

Harriet had folded her arms tightly around herself. ‘Anything more?’

‘There was a cut-throat razor between his feet.’

‘Anything further about the body, Graves, other than the costume?’ Crowther asked from his corner.

‘No — wait. Krall reports very little blood around her body. He says other than the cut on her wrist and the bloodshot eyes, she appeared unharmed, her clothing not disarranged or torn. No bruises. God, they must think …’ He controlled himself. ‘There was some damp about her clothes. One moment — a carafe of water was broken on the floor. And there was a pinkish foam around her lips and mouth.’

Crowther sat forward. ‘A pinkish foam? Those are the words?’

‘Yes. Is that significant?’

Harriet thought of the girl laid out across the floor, hardly marked, her wounded hand trailing behind her, but her eyes open. Unmistakably dead.

‘The cut on her wrist,’ she said, before Crowther could reply to Graves’s question. ‘Crowther, does the account of the body say how deep it was?’

‘It severed the artery,’ he replied, without referring to the report.

‘Surely a wound like that would have bled profusely? And it would have taken some minutes before she even fainted away. If she had struggled or fought after it was sliced, there should have been blood spattered everywhere, and all around her.’ She noticed that Graves had put his head in his hands.

‘If it were administered while she was alive, then yes,’ Crowther said. ‘If she had been killed, and the wound made afterwards, it would only leak a little.’ He examined the papers in his hand once more. ‘That is the conclusion they seem to have reached. No bruises to show she was throttled. Hyoid bone intact. They suggest she was smothered.’

‘Is that possible? To smother someone and leave no bruises?’ Harriet frowned, concentrating.

‘Yes,’ Crowther said simply.

‘She did not defend herself at all?’

‘If so, it left no mark on her or on Daniel.’

‘Of course Daniel had no mark on him,’ Graves said. ‘He didn’t kill that woman.’

‘He was deranged when they found him, Graves,’ Crowther said. ‘And he is a strong man, he could have smothered her quite easily.’

‘I did not know you had come all this way to help put his head in a noose.’

‘He has killed before.’

‘In defence of my wards, in a fair fight! Good God, Crowther, if you were a younger man, I would call you out.’

‘Do not let my age hinder you, Graves.’

‘Gentlemen!’ Harriet said. ‘Peace, please. Graves, you know perfectly well Crowther believes Clode to be a victim of some evil here, just as Lady Martesen was. And Crowther, please, have some humanity. What of the wounds on Clode’s wrists?’

Crowther shook his head. ‘Nothing to suggest they were not self-inflicted, other than the fact they make no mention of hesitation marks.’

‘How could he have been in such a state that he would let someone slice his wrists! Even if he were dead drunk.’ Harriet bit her lip. ‘And do not say that perhaps he did do it himself or Graves will fly at you again.’ Crowther preserved a diplomatic silence. Harriet’s fingers rapped against her dress. ‘You said there was something strange here.’

‘Clode spoke about dreaming of water, did he not, in his first meeting with Krall?’

Graves breathed deeply and calmly replied, ‘Yes, he dreamed he was drowning. Then dreamed this devil creature was slicing his wrists. They do not believe him. They think he was driven suddenly mad by guilt and somehow magicked a razor into the air and slit his own wrists. They think this devil is his conscience.’

Crowther said softly, ‘A pinkish foam around the mouth is indicative of death by drowning.’

‘Drowning?’ Harriet said. ‘In a locked room?’

‘Colonel Padfield said in his letter that the key was not in the lock when he broke down the door. If a door does not fit well in its frame, it is easy enough to lock it from the outside, then slide the key back in under the bottom edge. I experimented with the door to the dining room in Caveley while you were bullying your maid, Mrs Westerman.’

‘There is a terrible draught in that room. I wondered why Mrs Heathcote was looking at you so severely.’

There was a rustling from Graves. ‘Mr Crowther, is this foam conclusive proof of drowning?’

Harriet watched Gabriel as he replied, and began to see how much the journey had tired him. There was a greyness in his skin. She had not realised how much she had asked of him. ‘No, not conclusive. There are a couple of other telling phrases in Krall’s description of the autopsy, his comments on the appearance of the lungs and so on. I think it was not his own drowning Daniel dreamed of, but hers.’

‘But how?’ Harriet exclaimed.

‘I do not know,’ Crowther said slowly. ‘It is possible to drown in a gutter, of course.’

‘I saw some who died like that, during the riots in eighty,’ Graves said. ‘But she would have been soaked to the skin, or at least her hair would have been wet if she had been held in even a basin of water.’

Harriet straightened the papers on her lap and struggled to think clearly. ‘Suppose she were placed in the chair, her head tilted back, water poured down her throat in that position?’

‘Possible,’ Crowther said, ‘but she would have resisted. Her hair and clothes would be soaked as she tried to avoid inhaling the water. She would have exerted herself against the necessary restraints … It is in our nature to fight death. She would have to have been unconscious, but there is no mention of a head wound, no smell of alcohol or sign of opiates here. Yet, the foam, the shape of the lungs … The report does not realise it tells us she died by inhaling water, but I believe it does.’

‘Dear God, what a foul death,’ Harriet said, and they were all silent for a while, until Graves cleared his throat.

‘But what could have caused this strange confusion in Clode? He sounds as if he was seeing visions.’

‘That I cannot say,’ Crowther replied. ‘He must have been drugged in some way, but the effects are not like anything with which I am familiar.’ Harriet watched him out of the corner of her eye. She suspected from the manner in which he held himself that his shoulder was paining him, but knew better than to enquire.

‘Still. At least we have made a beginning,’ she said determinedly. ‘Where did this razor come from? If we can demonstrate that she drowned, who would believe that a man, as stumbling and confused as they testify Daniel was, could manage such a thing? They cannot hang him with us asking these questions.’

‘They would probably behead him,’ Crowther said. His shoulder was definitely troubling him.

‘They will do neither, Mrs Westerman,’ Graves said. ‘We have money, we have reputation, and we have the support of King George. We will not lose him.’

The horses slowed to a walk and the company arrived at Ulrichsberg just as the church bells were ringing midday.