Circle of Shadows Read online

Miss Rachel Trench, Harriet’s younger sister, married Daniel Clode in early December, and soon afterwards, the newly-weds had left Hartswood for some months abroad. Rachel and Daniel Clode had intended to spend most of the year on the continent. Neither had yet enjoyed the opportunity to travel, but it was not in their nature to do so only for pleasure. Daniel Clode was Graves’s right hand in the administration of the estates of the Earl of Sussex, and Lord Sussex’s financial interests spread beyond the borders of Great Britain and onto the continent like ivy, even while he skated on the frozen lake behind his ancestral home and played soldiers with Harriet’s son, Stephen. Clode justified his trip with the thought that he could establish some sort of contact with Lord Sussex’s debtors and partners on his way, and so the path they intended to take across Europe was paved with money and interest. It should have made for a smooth passage.

  Once these celebrations were complete, the winter had proved a rather lonely time for Harriet. Her friends at Thornleigh Hall called often, but she saw little of Mr Gabriel Crowther. He always had been reclusive and was quite rich enough to never leave his house. She told herself it was winter, and therefore his preferred season for his anatomical studies. The cold meant he could work without the smell of corruption crawling through the house, upsetting the servants. She also told herself that the bullet wound he had received in his shoulder in the summer was still troubling him, making the short ride to her house uncomfortable. Then she would read, in one of the newspapers her housekeeper had failed to hide, the continuing speculations about their adventures in the Lake Country, consider how much she had learned about Crowther’s family, his childhood, and wonder as she stared out over her frost-covered lawns if he was avoiding her company, whether seeing her reminded him of the gothic horrors of his history. He was already over fifty when they first met and had grown comfortable in his isolation from society. She asked herself if he was trying to become what he had been before they met in 1780, a closeted eccentric, cut off from human society, working his knives by candlelight and content only in the company of the dead. Yet during their time in the Lakes they had met his nephew, Felix. Crowther was making the boy, his heir, a generous allowance and heard regularly from him. He had also taken into his care Felix’s wife and child. Harriet herself was godmother to the infant. He could not retreat entirely from the world now. Harriet would sigh, and return to the estate papers on her desk.

  Her household still recognised Crowther as part of the larger family of Caveley, however. It was never questioned that on seeing Harriet in distress, they would send for Mr Crowther at once. Their faith was justified. Whatever Crowther’s involvement with his work, or reluctance to stir from his house, he was in the Long Salon at Caveley within half an hour of the messenger stirring the gravel on the driveway. He had been afraid on seeing her servant’s pale face, and ridden at a pace that would have impressed even in a far younger man, but as he rode he did not speculate, only concentrated on the speed he could draw from his horse. Mrs Heathcote had the door open for him before he had dismounted. He handed her his hat, and following her nod, walked into the Long Salon unannounced. Harriet was seated on the settee, her back straight. She was not ill, it seemed. He felt his relief, took the letter she held out towards him and retreated to one of the armchairs. It was only then he became aware that his heart was thudding at a startling rate and a blossom of pain opened out through his shoulder. He put his fingertips to his forehead and tried to read.

  At first he could hardly make it out, an hysterical outpouring of fear, an assertion of Daniel’s innocence, a sudden conviction that the terrible misunderstanding would be speedily cleared up. He would have struggled to make any sense of it at all, but there was another, longer letter attached from a Colonel Padfield. The Colonel appeared to be an Englishman, employed in Maulberg and resident there some two years. This letter was a great deal clearer, but in its way more worrying. It gave a short account of the facts of the case against Clode, the seriousness of the situation and a simple statement that Mr and Mrs Clode were in need of support from their friends in England. Crowther only had time to read it twice, carefully, before Mr and Mrs Graves arrived from Thornleigh Hall and he put it into their hands. Mrs Heathcote served coffee, and he noticed that her eyes were red. Stephen could be heard in the hallway demanding information, and his tutor sharply insisting he return to his lessons. At last Verity Graves spoke.

  ‘You will go, Owen, at once, of course.’

  Graves nodded. ‘Thank you, my dear. Though I hate to leave you with so much business to conduct.’

  ‘Mrs Service already has the Hall running like clockwork,’ his wife answered briskly. ‘I shall ask my father and mother to make a long visit while you are away. You trust Papa to advise me?’

  ‘No one better than Mr Chase.’

  ‘His poor parents!’ Verity turned to her hostess. ‘Harriet, would you like me to carry this news to Pulborough?’

  Harriet started. ‘Oh, yes! His father and mother … I had forgotten. Thank you, Verity.’

  ‘I shall tell them Graves leaves at once, and …?’

  ‘I shall come with you, Graves,’ Harriet said, then looked at Crowther. ‘Gabriel?’ He only nodded. ‘Thank you.’ He watched her as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, staring at the carpet, her eyes slightly wide. He wished they were alone, then he could tell her to stop trying to think of everything at once. He did not find the company of Mr and Mrs Graves overly trying, which in the general scheme of humanity made them part of a particular and privileged group, but he could not speak to Harriet as frankly as he would wish in front of them. ‘Should I go and see them too?’ Harriet said. ‘Clode’s parents?’

  Verity put out her hand and took Harriet’s. ‘I shall take the news to them. They will be relieved and grateful you are all going to his aid and will not want you to waste time calling on them. Leave this to me, Harriet.’ Crowther thought, not for the first time, that Graves had chosen very well.

  The company parted and returned to their households to share the news, or what parts of it they felt they must, and make their preparations for an uncertain journey. Crowther’s housekeeper received her instructions calmly and began her work. He retreated to his study, a generously-sized space which had served as the dining room of the house when it had more sociable occupants, and wondered what he could save from the work he was now forced to abandon. There was no time to take the steps necessary to preserve the samples he had been studying, and it would be difficult to replace them. Still, it could not be helped. Mrs Westerman had asked him to go, and go he would.

  He unwound the soft leather roll that held his knives to check all was in place, then opened the walnut case that held his bone saw, forceps, tweezers and hammers. The instruments were German-made, commissioned and bought while he was a student in Wittenberg some thirty years before. It had been the first place he had fled to after the execution of his elder brother. He had abandoned his title, sold his estate, and under the name of Gabriel Crowther had turned his interest in anatomy into his occupation; his knowledge into expertise. He fitted the magnifying glass into its velvet bed. It was ridiculous to carry them. The body of this Lady Martesen was buried already, and by the time he and his companions could reach Maulberg the flesh would have putrefied, but he intended to take them with him anyway. They were, like his cane, his signifiers. His markers and talismans. In all likelihood he was leaving his home for no good reason at all, but it never occurred to him not to go. If Mrs Westerman was riding off into any sort of danger he would always follow while he had the strength.

  It dawned on him, slowly, that while he had been packing away his effects the street door had opened and closed a number of times. Indeed, it sounded as if the door had just closed again now. He looked into the hall.

  ‘Hannah?’

  His housekeeper turned towards him. She had a large wicker basket over her arm.

  ‘The news has spread, sir. Just about every soul in the village has come to the d
oor with something to ease the journey. Wool blankets from the drapers … enough dried meats to feed you all half a year.’ Crowther frowned and Hannah smiled at him. ‘Mr and Mrs Clode are well liked, sir, and it is more convenient to leave things in this house rather than take them to Caveley or Thornleigh Hall.’

  ‘They do have food on the continent.’

  ‘Not any that our butcher thinks healthy for an Englishman.’

  ‘Of course.’ He was about to turn back into his study when he hesitated. ‘I do not know how long I shall be gone, Hannah.’

  She nodded. ‘Of course, sir. But do not concern yourself. We shall manage quite well.’

  ‘If you find yourself in any need, you may apply to Thornleigh Hall.’

  ‘I know, Mr Crowther. Your friends there will take good care of us for your sake.’

  He said no more, but withdrew to his study and his papers.

  I.3

  16 March 1784, Caveley

  CROWTHER’S LUGGAGE AND THE offerings of the village were carried to Caveley just after dawn. He followed them some hours later. The front of Mrs Westerman’s house was all activity. The party were to travel in two coaches. One for Graves, Crowther and Mrs Westerman, the other for their luggage and Mrs Westerman’s maid, Dido. It seemed to Crowther that as they were travelling without the usual large entourage of servants, they could have managed with only one coach. He said as much to Graves, who was observing the activity with an expression of wonder.

  ‘Michaels insists, Mr Crowther,’ Graves said. Crowther only now noticed the landlord of the Bear and Crown, who was directing the placing of the baggage and checking that the leather straps around the band-boxes were properly tightened. ‘He says it’s better to travel with two lightly packed, otherwise we shall spend a month up to our axles in mud, this time of year.’

  Harriet had emerged from the house, and having cast her eye over the arrangements and decided not to intervene, joined the gentlemen. ‘Michaels has volunteered to be our guide, Crowther, and will not be persuaded to remain at home,’ she said. ‘He has the same distrust of the postillions and innkeepers of Germany as the butcher seems to have of the meat.’

  ‘He is fond of your sister,’ Graves said.

  ‘Yes, everyone is. Our bulging supplies are testament to that. Graves, my children will be with Verity at Thornleigh Hall before nightfall, all packed up and Anne’s nurse and Mr Quince with them.’

  ‘They are very welcome.’

  Harriet’s voice became low. ‘Stephen is very angry with me. He feels he should be allowed to accompany us.’

  ‘I have spent half the night denying the appeals of Susan and Jonathan,’ Graves replied wearily. ‘They claim that as Clode once saved them, it is their right to come with us to save him. Little Eustache wishes to go because he fears being left behind. They are with Stephen in your old nursery now, talking bitterly of us and plotting to pursue us.’

  ‘If you will allow me, I shall have a word with the young people,’ Crowther said.

  Graves and Harriet looked at him with a mixture of surprise and faint hope.

  At the point the cavalcade was ready to make for the coast, the children presented themselves for their farewells. They were affectionate, and though distressed at the separation, they no longer seemed angry. Stephen only whispered to his mother that she must be very careful. He did so with the seriousness only a ten year old with large blue eyes can manage. She promised him she would, rather wonderingly. She watched from the carriage window until the house was out of sight, before wiping her eyes and asking, bewildered, ‘Crowther, what on earth did you say to them?’

  He leaned back into his corner of the carriage. ‘I explained that before they could hope to be of any practical help to us on occasions such as these, they must learn to shoot a pistol accurately, improve their riding, their French and their geography. I also suggested wrestling. They aim to spend the time we are absent in continual practice.’

  Graves made a slight choking sound, and Harriet shook her head. Crowther folded his long fingers over the top of his cane, and closed his eyes.

  From The Gazetteer of Europe for the Informed Traveller, 1782

  The Duchy of Maulberg

  Situation: lying in the south west between Bavaria, Wirtemburg and Saxe

  Ettlingham.

  Extent: some 1,500 square miles, supporting some 100,000 souls.

  Mostly forest and agricultural land.

  Raised to Duchy 1495.

  Ruler: Ludwig Christoph II born 1745, succeeded to title 1756.

  Exports: wine, linen, paper.

  Principal rivers: Neckar, Enz.

  Principal cities: Ulrichsberg (capital) founded 1713 on building of Ducal

  Palace; Leuchtenstadt, seat of University of Maulberg founded 1512.

  Some remarks:

  Some commentators have said that if every county in England, and some of the larger parishes, had their own King, then we might learn to understand the situation that pertains in the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation. Maulberg is a fine example of this sort of government. The Duke is, to all intents and purposes, an absolute ruler in his territory, but his lands are punctured by other tiny sovereign states and he owes a polite allegiance to the Emperor. He has, however, his own troops, his own government and to an extent his own laws, and should always be treated with the deference due to a monarch.

  Maulberg and its people suffered greatly during the Seven Years’ War as the armies of their great neighbours Austria and Prussia marched over their lands. However, we are glad to report that the situation seems to have improved of late. Much of the Duchy appears to be productively farmed once more and its population grows.

  The Palace of Ulrichsberg deserves qualified admiration. It is modelled on Versailles, and certainly gives an impression of great splendour. The palace is also famous due to the quality of musicians and artists of all sorts the current ruler continually attracts to him. The other buildings in the city are also most elegant. An Englishman passing through this city must, however, ask himself how a state only a little larger than Wiltshire can afford a court so splendid.

  As with all parts of Germany and Austria, we advise travellers to be very careful in matters of rank and recommend they seek guidance from their hosts in all questions of forms of address at all levels in society. French is generally used amongst people of quality, and almost exclusively in court except when dealing with servants. The peasants speak only their local version of the German tongue. Unsurprising then, that even these little states seem divided into classes of people staring at each other with a profound degree of mutual incomprehension.

  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.