Page 19 of The Cursed Writer
‘Almost nine o’clock,’ Agnes said as she made her way towards the fireplace. ‘Mr Archer said not to disturb you.’
‘I have only just woken up,’ Harry confessed. She surveyed the remaining clothes she had brought and chose a blue day dress, which was impractical for exploring the fens but all she had that was clean and dry. What she wouldn’t give for the practical men’s trousers she had worn to disguise herself as she sought to solve the mystery of Mildred Longstaff’s disappearance. ‘How is Mr St John today? I hope he has not caught another chill.’
Agnes busied herself at the hearth. ‘He hasn’t woken yet. Mr Archer said not to disturb him either.’
That made sense, Harry thought as she dressed. ‘It looks like a pleasant day,’ she said. ‘I thought I might take a walk around the grounds after breakfast.’
The housekeeper did not look up. ‘It is a nice morning, although bitterly cold. Mary hung your coat in the kitchen and stuffed your boots with newspaper – they should be mostly dry.’
‘Excellent,’ Harry said, making a mental note to thank the cook when she saw her. ‘You mentioned other waterways in the area yesterday – does Morden Fen join any of them?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, although you couldn’t pass anything bigger than a flat-bottomed skiff through. It flows into Morden lode, which is a small, manmade waterway meant for moving goods around. There are lots of them round these parts – they join the River Cam, where the big barges come back and forth from ports on the coast.’
Harry raised her eyebrows in surprise. She knew river transportation played a vital part for businesses across the country but she hadn’t realised Thrumwell Manor was so close to such an important network. Perhaps it wasn’t as isolated as it seemed. ‘I see. And the villages around here, are they built around these lodes?’
‘Some of them,’ Agnes replied. ‘Burwell village is probably the biggest, to the east of the manor. There’s the brick companyand fertiliser factory there, so they have their own lode that joins up with the Cam, as well as a place that builds and repairs barges. The villagers in Morden used to take a shortcut across the fen to reach Burwell lode, to avoid paying the tolls, but no one bothers now. Not since they stopped mining the fen.’
Harry felt her forehead crinkle as she tried to envisage the geography. ‘But it’s still possible?’ she asked. ‘To cut across the fen from Morden to Burwell, I mean.’
Agnes stopped sweeping the ashes then to give her a wary look. ‘It’s possible.’
Lowering her gaze to the buttons of the cardigan she had pulled over the thin dress, Harry considered the new information. The existence of a shortcut across the fen surrounding the manor increased the likelihood that she had not been confused over the lights. It could well be that someone had been trespassing in Morden Fen in the early hours of the morning. What she could not yet fathom was why. ‘Thank you, Agnes, you’ve been most helpful.’
The housekeeper eyed her in silence for a moment, then returned her attention to the fireplace. ‘Yes, miss. Breakfast will be served in the dining room, when you’re ready.’
The thought succeeded in driving all thoughts of the fen from Harry’s mind. She was starving and in dire need of a cup of tea. ‘I’ll go down now,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’
She was not surprised to find John Archer seated at the dining table, staring absently out of the window, an empty plate in front of him. He roused himself when she entered. ‘Ah, Miss Moss. I trust you slept well?’
‘I did,’ Harry said. ‘And you?’
‘Like the proverbial log,’ he replied. ‘I fear that had my uncle awoken to another manic episode, I might very well have slept through it.’
She took a seat at the table and reached for the teapot, which appeared to be empty. ‘I understand from Agnes that he is still asleep.’
Archer nodded. ‘The sleeping draught,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘I doubt he will rise before midday, which will give us all some respite. But let me ring for Mary, and some fresh tea.’
He rose to press a button near the door. Moments later, Mary appeared. ‘Some fresh tea, please,’ Archer said. ‘And whatever Miss Moss would like to eat.’
Harry smiled at the cook, who had bustled forward to collect the teapot. ‘Poached eggs on toast, if it’s not too much trouble.’
‘No trouble at all,’ she said cheerfully.
Archer waited until she had left the room to fix Harry with a bleak look. ‘It is a terrible thing but I fear we are all lighter of spirit when my uncle is sedated.’
‘Understandably,’ Harry said, with some sympathy. ‘Caring for an invalid puts a strain on everyone, and Mr St John’s condition seems particularly difficult to bear.’
He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘And yet I am firm in my belief that Thrumwell Manor is the best place for him.’ He raised one hand, as though to forestall her argument. ‘I know you fear he is in danger here but I worry he would lose what little of his mind he had left if we were to move him.’
Harry could see there was no point in trying to change his mind. ‘Whatever you think best.’
Archer nodded absently, then seemed to give himself a mental shake. ‘But enough melancholy. What are your plans for this morning? Donaldson will be happy to return you to Ely station when you are ready.’
‘Thank you, but I have arranged to be collected by Mr Fortescue, the gentleman you met last week,’ Harry said. ‘Before then, I thought I might take a walk around the estate. Agnes has been explaining the way the fen connects to the lodes and Iwanted to see it for myself. Perhaps Barrymore might appreciate the exercise.’
If Archer thought her interest in the lodes peculiar, he did not say so. ‘A capital idea. And it occurs to me that I shall be in London on Thursday – would that give you enough time to consult with Mr Holmes about the case? We could meet at my club.’
Harry smiled politely. ‘The Garston Club does not admit women, sadly. But it may be possible to meet elsewhere. If Mr Holmes deems it necessary.’
