Instruments of Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

arrived. A recluse and a mystery. She had not thought of him a great deal, however, over the year he had been in Hartswood, her mind being much engaged with her own concerns, but she was glad of the opportunity to study him more closely now. She guessed him to be in his fifties, he wore his own hair, was very pale and almost painfully thin, but his height and the steady confidence of his deportment gave him a presence she could not help admiring. She had expected the brusqueness she associated with professional men, but his movements were smooth. There must have been a time, she thought, when he was used to company. His features were fine, though the lips were thin and his expression was, if not welcoming, then not outright hostile either. He looked around their salon with polite curiosity and so she decided to like him.

    Rachel had often thought her sister was not the most gracious of hostesses, but even she was surprised at the complete lack of any attempt to make conversation with their guest. Harriet was staring out across the room with her chin in one hand, rapping her fingers against her cheek. Rachel felt the duty of the house fall on her shoulders; she was young and therefore keen to supply what deficiencies she sensed in others.

    ‘I am glad to meet you, Mr Crowther. You are a man of mystery in our society.’

    Crowther looked at Mrs Westerman’s sister and struggled for a minute to remember her name.

    ‘I am not sociable, Miss Trench. I am sure it is my loss.’

    Harriet snorted. ‘Oh, most definitely, Mr Crowther. My sister is a fiend at backgammon and whist. You have missed any number of stimulating evenings by your refusal to know your neighbours.’ There was an unmistakable sneer in her voice, and Rachel felt it directed at herself. She blushed and got up a little quickly.

    ‘You must excuse me,’ she said. ‘I need to go and speak to Mrs Heathcote about dinner.’

    Crowther barely had time to bow before she had left the room, and Harriet watched her go with a frown.

    ‘Damn. I have upset her. I am an unfeeling sort of sister at times. But she is only eighteen, you know, and rather prim for her age.’

    Crowther said nothing, but continued to observe Mrs Westerman over the rim of his very elegant tea cup.

    ‘I am trying to decide what is the right thing to be done, Mr Crowther, and poor Rachel’s attempts to be polite were an irritant.’

    Crowther decided not to comment on her temper, but asked instead, mildly enough, ‘And what do you conclude, Mrs Westerman? What is the right thing to be done?’

    She looked up into the corner of the room.

    ‘I shall start by saying what I think will happen now, and trust you to catch me if my conclusions are faulty.’ He nodded. ‘Well, then. First the Squire will arrive, and tell us that the Coroner is summoned and will be meeting with his jury in the Bear and Crown tomorrow afternoon. He will ask us for our opinions and agree we should examine the body for any further indications as to who the man might be, and why he has come here, and check that our unknown friend does not have a leg-break such as Alexander must have.’ She ticked the points of her narrative off on her fingers. ‘We will find nothing conclusive to add to what we already know. Tomorrow the Coroner will listen to us in a gentlemanlike manner, and the jury conclude that this unknown was killed by other unknowns for unknown reasons and ask God to have mercy on his soul. Ideally, someone will have spotted him coming from London and from there, as we know, all vice and evil makes its way. We shall therefore conclude that his destruction followed him from town, and that will be an end to it. Apart from the fact that you will be watched carefully for a day or two after the burial to check that you do not dig up the body to experiment on in your godless manner.’

    Crowther smiled. ‘And that will be that.’

    They were silent for a little while.

    ‘Do you think, Mr Crowther,