The Anatomy Of Ghosts

13

Mr Richardson was seated at a table in his parlour. Standing beside him was a portly young man. They both turned towards Holdsworth as he came in.

The tutor stood up. ‘Mr Holdsworth – this is an unexpected pleasure.’

‘But I see you’re engaged, sir,’ Holdsworth said. ‘No matter – I shall have the pleasure of seeing you later at the library.’

‘No, pray stay – Mr Archdale and I have finished our business. Mr Holdsworth, may I present Mr Archdale, one of our fellow-commoners? And Mr Archdale, this is Mr Holdsworth.’

Archdale blinked rapidly and sketched a bow to Holdsworth. The young man had a pink, round face dominated by large, loose lips that looked as if their owner’s tongue might slip between them at any moment. ‘Your servant, sir,’ he muttered. ‘Charmed, I’m sure.’

‘Mr Holdsworth has already heard you, if not seen you,’ Richardson went on. ‘We were strolling through Chapel Court last night and you were in full cry.’

Archdale became even pinker. ‘I – I beg your pardon, sir. Some – some of the men – were a little merry.’

‘I am sure it will not happen again, Mr Archdale.’ Richardson smiled at him. ‘Well, I am glad that you will have something to show Sir Charles tomorrow, and I shall inform him of the good news when I call on him this evening. After I have seen him, I should like to discuss the course of reading you should pursue next, and your plans for the Long Vacation. Perhaps you would make it convenient to call upon me on Wednesday. At about seven o’clock?’

Archdale stopped, his hand already on the door. ‘I regret it infinitely, sir, but I’m already engaged.’

Richardson raised his eyebrows. ‘Indeed?’

‘The HG Club, sir. I have been elected to it.’

‘Ah yes.’ A flicker of emotion passed over Richardson’s delicate features. ‘You will not wish to miss that.’

‘Mr Whichcote was most pressing.’

‘In that case, let us make it Thursday. Seven o’clock. You shall come and drink tea with me.’ Richardson looked consideringly at him. ‘You must go carefully at the HG Club. It has something of a reputation, I understand.’

‘Yes, sir. Much obliged, I’m sure.’

Archdale bowed, first to Richardson and then to Holdsworth. The door closed behind him.

The tutor sighed. ‘We have too many young man like that, Mr Holdsworth. No harm in him, but sadly dissipated. The tragedy is, he’s not entirely a fool and he has some shreds of scholarship about him. He could do well enough if he were to apply himself. Still, I must not weary you with my little concerns. You’ve been to see Mr Oldershaw this morning, have you not? How did you find him?’

‘Sound in body, but not in mind,’ Holdsworth said.

‘No improvement then?’

‘It would appear not. Dr Jermyn is sanguine but only if Mr Oldershaw stays with him. The doctor has great faith in his system.’

‘Moral management,’ Richardson said. ‘They say it transforms the treatment of the insane.’

‘I cannot say I like what I have seen of it so far. It is more like bullying than anything else.’

‘In all events, it is kinder than chaining the poor devils to their beds as they used to do, and leaving them to rot in their own filth. Were you able to talk with Mr Oldershaw?’

Holdsworth shook his head. ‘When Dr Jermyn introduced me, he became violent and had to be restrained. Which reminds me: Mr Archdale mentioned Mr Whichcote just now. I heard his name at Dr Jermyn’s too.’

‘As I think I said yesterday, Mr Whichcote is much at Jerusalem.’

‘And so, I believe, was his late wife.’

Richardson raised his eyebrows. ‘Ah. I see we have no secrets from you. Not that the poor lady’s death is in any way a secret, of course. There are some who say that Mr Whichcote goes into society more than he should so soon after his bereavement. But we should be charitable, I believe. We should not begrudge the poor man his consolations.’

‘Why should Mr Oldershaw believe he had seen the ghost of Mrs Whichcote?’

‘There you have me, my dear sir. Why indeed? He knew the lady, of course. But the poor fellow’s wits are disordered. He does not need a reason for his fancies, surely?’

‘Were there signs that his wits were disordered before that?’ Holdsworth asked. ‘Her ladyship wishes to know all there is to know so you will not mind if I press you a little further.’

‘I cannot tell you much more than you already know. Mr Oldershaw was at Lambourne House the very evening before Mrs Whichcote died. The circumstance had affected him – he was a little melancholy, I should say. But that’s nothing out of the way – young men always find something to sigh about, do they not?’

‘How did he seem on the day before he saw the apparition? And what was he doing in the garden in the middle of the night?’

‘I believe he dined at the Hoop with Mr Archdale, and supped privately in college with Mr Whichcote.’

‘Perhaps that brought the memory of Mrs Whichcote to mind in a particularly vivid way.’

‘Perhaps. In any case, I fancy he must have woken in the middle of the night and wished to visit the necessary house – the undergraduates’ privies are on the other side of the garden.’

‘I wonder if I might see Mr Oldershaw’s rooms?’

‘Nothing would be easier. They are as he left them. Her ladyship did not wish to alarm Mr Oldershaw’s friends unnecessarily. A sudden recovery seemed perfectly possible at the time of his confinement, and even now we live in hope of such a happy eventuality.’ Richardson’s eyelids fluttered. ‘Lady Anne has given out that her son is indisposed, his nerves are fatigued from his labours at the University.’

‘When would be convenient?’

‘We might pay a visit now if you wished.’ Richardson stepped up to the window overlooking the court and looked up at the clock on the pediment. ‘We have a good half an hour before the dinner bell.’

He shrugged himself into his gown, locked his door and led the way outside. They walked up to the door in the south-eastern corner of the court. Among the half a dozen names painted on the board inside the entrance to the staircase were those of Oldershaw and Archdale, who had the sets of rooms on the first floor. When Richardson turned the key in Oldershaw’s heavy outer door, nothing happened. He frowned and increased the pressure. Still the key would not move. He reversed the direction of the turn and the lock immediately engaged with a loud click.

Frowning, he glanced at Holdsworth. ‘Strange.’

‘The door was unlocked?’

Richardson twisted the key again, pulled open the outer door and turned the handle of the inner door beyond. It led into a spacious room, larger and loftier than Richardson’s. Directly in front of them stood a small man in dark clothes. He was carrying a pile of shirts.

‘Mulgrave!’ Richardson said. ‘What the devil are you doing here?’

‘Fetching clean linen for Mr Oldershaw, sir. And Dr Jermyn asked me to bring in a few of his books.’

‘Why did you not come to me for the key?’

‘Beg pardon, sir. Didn’t want to bother you, and Dr Jermyn gave me Mr Oldershaw’s key.’

‘It’s most irregular, Mulgrave, as you very well know. We cannot go about handing college keys to all and sundry.’

‘Yes, sir. Beg pardon, sir. As it was Mr Oldershaw, I thought you’d made an exception.’

‘I had not,’ Richardson said. ‘You must surrender the key to me.’

‘Very good, sir. I’m due to see him again on Tuesday, sir. I expect I’ll have to trouble you later in the week.’

‘You need not concern yourself with that.’

Mulgrave limped into the room and laid the shirts reverently into a valise that stood open on the carpet.

‘How often do you see Mr Oldershaw?’ Richardson asked.

‘Two or three times a week, sir. Dr Jermyn tells me what to bring and when to call. I shave the poor gentleman and dress his hair, and run any little errands that the doctor thinks he needs.’ Mulgrave strapped up the valise and rose to his feet. ‘It was Dr Carbury who told me to go. But I give my bills to Dr Jermyn and he puts them on her ladyship’s account.’

‘They should come through me, as you know very well. I’m Mr Oldershaw’s tutor.’

‘Yes, sir, but the Master said it’s different because the young gentleman’s not in residence at present.’

‘I see. Very well. Pray have the goodness to remember that Mr Oldershaw is my pupil, and in future I shall take it kindly if you make it your business to tell me how he does.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Now leave the key on the table and be off with you.’

Mulgrave bowed again, lifted the valise and limped to the door.

Richardson waited until the door shut behind Mulgrave. His face had grown pale. ‘It is insupportable. The Master has gone behind my back and no doubt Mulgrave was well paid to keep quiet about it. He’s a gyp in more ways than one.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Holdsworth said.

‘Eh – oh, the word “gyp” is said to be derived from the Greek word for “vulture”. If so, it is entirely apposite. Such parasites make a fortune from their fees and vails.’ Richardson paused, breathing deeply. ‘ You see, a gyp is not like the ordinary run of college servants. He works for himself, and offers his services to whomsoever he chooses. Were I able, I should exile the entire tribe of gyps from Cambridge.’

‘You speak with some heat, sir.’

‘I speak as I find, Mr Holdsworth. Forgive me, however, I have allowed my feelings to become overheated. When one spends one’s life in a college, seeing the same men day in, day out, these little things can mean a great deal to us. Little passions grow vast, and take monstrous shapes.’ He forced a laugh. ‘When I was a sizar here, thirty years ago, the gyps looked upon us as their rivals, and treated us accordingly. I remember Mulgrave then – he was but a boy, of course – he used to hop about and take great pleasure in humiliating us.’

Holdsworth moved to the nearest window, one of the pair looking out over lawns towards the Long Pond, with the wall of the chapel immediately to the left and the great dome of the oriental plane tree beyond. Had Frank Oldershaw stood here on the night he saw the ghost? Had he seen something that drew him outside?

Richardson, his self-possession now entirely restored, smiled. ‘You must do me the honour of allowing me to be your Cicerone. When our Founder laid down our statutes, he included a stipulation that there should always be a suite of apartments for any of his descendants who might wish to study here. I think I may say without fear of contradiction that only the Master has better accommodation. This is the principal apartment, the parlour or keeping room, as we often style it here. That door there leads to a bedroom and the one beside it to a study. And the little door beyond the fireplace leads to what we call the gyp room, which is the province of Mulgrave and the bedmaker.’

‘It is splendidly furnished.’

‘Lady Anne saw to all that. Naturally she wished her son to live in a manner suitable to one of his rank and expectations.’

Holdsworth moved from room to room. The little study overlooked a small, sunlit garden on the southern side of the range. The room itself was square and high-ceilinged, almost a perfect cube. Here was some evidence that Frank Oldershaw had occasionally pursued his studies – a few volumes of Tacitus, Virgil and Livy, and several works on mathematics, such as Waring’s Meditationes Analyticae and Vince’s Conic Sections.

‘Did Mr Oldershaw apply himself to his books?’ Holdsworth asked.

‘Rarely. His mind is not framed for scholarly pursuits. What he really cared about was racing his phaeton against Archdale’s, or the number of snipe he could bring down in a morning’s sport.’

Holdsworth opened the door opposite the window and found that it gave into a closet containing a commode and a large wardrobe. The door on the other side of it communicated with the bedroom. He looked through the clothes – wigs and coats, breeches and stockings, and shoes and boots and hats and gloves and topcoats.

‘There’s enough to clothe an entire village,’ he said over his shoulder to Richardson. ‘A village inhabited solely by the quality.’

‘Her ladyship never stints him anything that may increase his consequence. He will have a great position in the world when he comes of age, and will move in the first rank of society. Which is why his present situation is particularly galling to her.’

‘Because of pride?’

‘That’s certainly part of it. I do not mean, however, that she does not feel a mother’s love for her son. But few of us can boast of simple sentiments, unalloyed by considerations of self-interest. Even the great ones in this world.’ Richardson pulled out the sleeve of a bright green coat. ‘This is the livery that Mr Archdale will wear with such pride on Wednesday. The HG Club. The buttons have the club motto on them – Sans souci. A sad irony for Mr Oldershaw, wouldn’t you say?’

Holdsworth looked down at the cuff. ‘It’s lost a button.’

Originally there had been a line of three gilt buttons on the cuff. Now there were only two.

‘It’s on the dressing table.’ Richardson glanced out of the bedroom window. ‘The chapel clerk is on his way to ring the dinner bell. But one thing before we go, sir.’ He laid a hand on Holdsworth’s sleeve. ‘Pray, have a care.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It pains me to say this, but Dr Carbury serves only himself. If he sees a means of gaining advantage with Lady Anne at your expense, he will not scruple to use it. You must be on your guard.’

The bell began to toll.

‘Now we must hurry,’ Richardson said in a bright, cheerful voice. ‘If I do not take my seat at high table before they read grace, I shall have to pay a fine of two bottles of wine.’