The Suspicion at Sanditon (Or, the Disappearance of Lady Denham) Read online

“I have served her ladyship a long time.”

  “How long?”

  “Over forty years, ma’am, since before she married Mr. Hollis. She brought me to Sanditon House with her, and when she married Sir Harry, I went with her to Denham Park.”

  “My own maid, Lucy, has not served me nearly so many years, but she is adept at anticipating my needs and reading my moods,” Elizabeth said. “I imagine that in four decades of service, you have come to know Lady Denham very well. Was there anything unusual in her manner today?”

  Rebecca contemplated a moment. “She was distracted by the dinner. Indeed, she talked of little else—how she looked forward to having everyone assembled under her roof, how she had carefully planned everything, and how she hoped the evening would prove a success.”

  “So she seemed to be feeling quite well?”

  “Perfectly well. In fact, I would say she was in higher spirits than she has been in some time—reminded me of the young woman she was when I first started working for her.”

  “Can you think of anything that would have drawn her away from the party that she had been so happily anticipating? Perhaps something that might have caused her to leave her chamber in a hurry?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “When Miss Brereton went to Lady Denham’s apartment just now, she found the seat at the dressing table overturned. Have you any idea how it came to be so positioned?”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened. She turned to Miss Brereton. “Is Lady Denham hurt? Is she in trouble?”

  “That is what we are trying to determine,” Miss Brereton said. “Do not become alarmed—there may yet be a perfectly ordinary explanation for her absence.”

  “Her ladyship was sitting on the seat when I left the chamber.”

  “And where did you go when you left?”

  “Down to the servants’ hall to report to Mrs. Riley. The party has the staff so busy that everyone’s help is needed, even for tasks that don’t normally fall under my duties.”

  “To your knowledge, have any of the other servants seen or heard from Lady Denham since you last saw her?”

  “I don’t believe so. There was a bit of speculation about why dinner was being held so long, but—come to think on it—nobody said anything about having spoken to Lady Denham herself. Perhaps Mrs. Riley knows more, but she and the cook have all they can do simply trying to keep the food at the right temperatures and everything else ready the moment it is called for.”

  Elizabeth looked to Miss Brereton. “Have you any more questions?”

  Miss Brereton shook her head. “Thank you, Rebecca. You may return to Mrs. Riley.”

  “And send her to us,” Elizabeth added.

  * * *

  Elizabeth and Miss Brereton had not been long from the portrait room before Darcy determined that, in going to speak with the servants while he stayed behind with the other guests, his wife had gotten the better end of the arrangement.

  After an exhaustive discourse on consumption, complete with citations from leading authorities—in Diana Parker’s case, the most current medical journals; in Sir Edward’s, the most melodramatic novels of the previous century—the conversation had wended from sentimental heroines to gothic ones, and hence, in a roundabout manner, back to the subject of Lady Denham.

  “This is all so very perplexful,” said Sir Edward—“‘not to see the lady of this castle … who disappeared so strangely.’ A mystery worthy of Mrs. Radcliffe’s pen! A large, ancient house, a lady vanishing into thin air—”

  “People do not vanish into thin air,” Diana said. “Now, I have read cases of spontaneous combustion—a most extraordinary demise! But people do not simply vanish. They, or their remains, exist somewhere.”

  “I believe Diana has the right of it,” Susan said. “Lady Denham cannot have evaporated. She either left Sanditon House, or she is still inside it.”

  “Then we should search the house.” Josiah Hollis’s abrupt declaration drew all eyes toward the front of the room. He stood beside the pier table nearest the doors, a rather expensive-looking vase in his hands. He restored the vase to its place on the table and turned to face the others. “If you are all so concerned about her, quit yammering and go look for her.”

  “Miss Brereton is even now asking the servants if they know Lady Denham’s whereabouts,” Thomas Parker said.

  “If the servants do know, then by now one of them ought to have delivered a message to us from Lady Denham explaining this interminable delay,” Josiah said. “I will search for her myself, if it means dinner might be served sometime this week.”

  Darcy suspected Mr. Hollis would prove only too happy to assist a search effort. During the others’ conversation, he had quietly walked a circuitous path through the portrait room. Though his pace gave the appearance of idle wandering, anyone watching him—which Darcy had been—could see that his movements were methodical, taking him to every part of the room, where he examined and appraised its contents—a painting here, a bust there, the marble mantelpiece, the crystal decanter resting on a mahogany sideboard. There, he had paused to pour himself the last of the wine it had held, the rest having been consumed by other guests during their extended wait for Lady Denham. He sipped sullenly, regarding the portrait of Sir Harry with open disgust, before leaving the empty glass on the sideboard to continue his casual inventory.

  The only corner Mr. Hollis did not reach was the one in which the miniature portraits were displayed, and that, only because Mr. Granville had taken an interest in the likenesses—or perhaps, an interest in Esther Denham, who stood with him near the glass-fronted case, speaking with the well-dressed young bachelor in a far more amiable manner than she had accorded anyone else in the room. Whether Mr. Granville shared her interest in continuing their conversation was another matter, one that could not be determined at present: To Miss Denham’s obvious vexation, Mr. Hollis now commanded Mr. Granville’s attention along with everybody else’s.

  “Tom, I believe I have been remiss in not recognizing this call to action before now,” Diana said. “If we all look for Lady Denham, I am sure we would find her in short order—more quickly still, if we divide the house.” She grew quite animated as the missing dowager became her newest project. “I will take the top floor—though the climb may fatigue me, it is for the best of causes. Tom, you should stay on the ground floor—there is no sense chancing your ankle on the stairs. Sir Edward and Miss Denham, perhaps you—”

  “My dear sister,” Thomas Parker interjected, “let us first hear what the servants report.”

  “But Tom, what if Lady Denham is in need of help? Think of all the time we have already lost.”

  “And if she is not?”

  “Then it’s about time she told the housekeeper to serve dinner,” Mr. Hollis said. He started toward the doors. “I will take the study, library, and Archibald’s former apartment.”

  Darcy balked at the very idea of Josiah Hollis let loose in Sanditon House unattended. Lady Denham would be the last object he sought.

  “I do not think Lady Denham would appreciate thirteen people roaming through her home without having been invited to do so,” Darcy said. “If it turns out that the servants do not know where she is, they ought to be the ones who conduct a sweep of the rooms. They are most familiar with the house.”

  “I am familiar with it, too,” Josiah said. “I lived here for a time, before Miss Philadelphia Brereton—pardon me, Lady Denham—ever became mistress of it.”

  In the distance, thunder rumbled, and Darcy realized the room had grown darker as they debated. His gaze went to a window. There was no rain yet; in fact, part of the sky was still clear. But it was coming.

  Mr. Granville cleared his throat. “May I be so bold as to offer an opinion in this discussion? If a search for Lady Denham is likely to include the grounds, perhaps it ought to be commenced sooner rather than later, no matter who undertakes it.”

  Darcy could not deny the wisdom of Mr. Granville’s statement. If an outdoor sear
ch eventually needed to be conducted, they would regret not having started it earlier, with as many men as possible, before the light grew dimmer and evidence washed away.

  And it would take Josiah Hollis out of the house, where he could appraise the shrubbery as much as he liked.

  Darcy turned to Thomas Parker. “I will go see whether Mrs. Darcy and Miss Brereton have learned anything from the servants. If not, I concur with Mr. Granville—the men should start a search of the grounds.”

  Mr. Parker nodded. “There are seven of us, plus the male servants. We will need to spread out if we are to cover as much of the park as possible before the rain comes.”

  “The air already smells damp,” Arthur said. “Miss Heywood, can you smell it?”

  “I am afraid I cannot,” Charlotte replied. “The windows are closed.”

  “Must be the draft none of you seem to feel,” Mr. Hollis muttered.

  “Tom, I hope you do not plan to lead this search,” Diana said. “You should not be walking far on that ankle.”

  “My ankle is perfectly fine.”

  “It will not remain that way if you are treading about over uneven ground. Let the younger gentlemen rush off to the farthest reaches of the property while you explore the paths.”

  “You say that as if I am elderly!”

  “You are not elderly—though next to Mr. Hollis you are the oldest gentleman here—but you have an injured ankle whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. Besides, if Lady Denham left the house, she is most likely walking on one of the paths, not traipsing through the pines.”

  “Diana, I haven’t the inclination to argue with you. Very well. Sidney, will you organize us?”

  “I?” Sidney seemed surprised by the request. “Well, I suppose I could, though surely Sir Edward is more familiar with the property—”

  “As am I,” interjected Mr. Hollis.

  “I am gratified, sir, by your faith in me,” Sir Edward said, “but I fear I am too overcome by dread for Lady Denham to lead this enterprise. Send me wheresoever on this quest you wish, but pray, do not ask one with such an emotional stake in the outcome to direct it.”

  As Sir Edward had yet to impress Darcy as a man of strong intellect, he thought it just as well that the baronet declined to take charge. He glanced at the remaining men for the most promising alternative. Arthur even now had a look of anxiety as he watched the clouds advance. If the rain arrived while they searched, he would probably fall to pieces. That left Mr. Granville, who knew the property no better than Darcy did, and—

  Josiah Hollis coughed. “Well, if you don’t want to take charge—”

  “—then I volunteer,” Darcy said quickly.

  * * *

  Mrs. Riley was even older than Rebecca. While Elizabeth understood and appreciated the value of senior servants, she was begun to wonder whether it were age, rather than laziness, that caused the perceived lack of motivation of which Lady Denham had complained. If Lady Denham was seventy, her housekeeper had to be nearing that milestone if she had not already surpassed it. Her hair, mobcap, and apron were all the same shade of white, and the hand that rested on the large ring at her side, attempting to silence its clinking keys as she entered the blue room, exhibited swollen knuckles suggestive of the arthritis that plagued other elderly people of Elizabeth’s acquaintance. Were Diana Parker to catch sight of them, she would probably insist on following the housekeeper back to the offices and concocting a salve in the stillroom.

  She was a round woman, not only in face and figure, but also in speech: A few minutes’ conversation with her revealed a circularity of thought that resulted in looping rather than forward-moving discourse. After a simple question from Elizabeth led to a five-minute response, four and one half of which was the recipe for tonight’s soup and where each of the ingredients had been obtained, she returned to the main subject.

  “… so I last saw her ladyship at about two o’clock.”

  With some hesitation, lest she inadvertently prompt a geographical discussion requiring an atlas, Elizabeth asked where.

  “In her morning room. We generally meet there after breakfast to discuss the day’s schedule, but today she wanted to meet later to review arrangements for the party one final time. Guests were to gather at four o’clock; dinner at half past; gentlemen left in the dining room only a short time while the ladies withdrew—Lady Denham did not want the men drinking up all her wine—we just received a fine shipment of port. Then tea in the drawing room—black tea for all. Her ladyship has no liking for the green tea the misses Parker drink, and won’t have it in the house—”

  “It sounds as if Lady Denham had a rather precise plan,” Elizabeth said. “When she did not adhere to it and you were told to hold dinner, did you wonder at that, or is it not unusual for her to stray from previously discussed arrangements?”

  “To be honest, ma’am, we were behind schedule downstairs—being out of practice for a dinner with so many removes, many of the dishes were not ready yet—so the delay came as a relief. When Miss Brereton sent word that her ladyship had not yet joined her guests, and to hold dinner until further notified, I did not question it, just took advantage of the extra time to prepare. Besides, it is not for me—or any of the staff—to question her ladyship’s wishes or whims. If she wanted to stay in her apartment all night, that is not my business.”

  “Of course. Other than preparing for so elaborate a dinner, has anything uncommon happened today—not necessarily involving Lady Denham directly?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. I thought I heard one of the footmen arranging the chairs in the dining room as I passed by earlier today, but when I went inside to give him additional instructions, it was only Mr. Hollis.”

  “You found Josiah Hollis in the dining room?” Elizabeth thought he had arrived after everyone else.

  “No, Archibald Hollis.”

  Archibald? Was that not the name of Lady Denham’s late husband? Mrs. Riley must have confused her Hollises. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Mr. Archibald Hollis,” Mrs. Riley repeated in a louder voice, apparently thinking it was her volume, not her statement, that impeded Elizabeth’s understanding. “He was probably feeling left out of the party.”

  Elizabeth cast a sideways glance at Miss Brereton, who appeared as confounded as she.

  “Mr. Hollis died five-and-thirty years ago,” Miss Brereton said.

  “Yes, miss.”

  Elizabeth and Miss Brereton waited for some explanation, but Mrs. Riley seemed to think the logic of her statement was self-evident.

  “So … would you not consider his appearance in the dining room unusual?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I would indeed, ma’am, for I have never actually seen him—since he died, I mean.”

  “Then what makes you believe he was in the dining room today?”

  “Why, Archibald Hollis has been visiting Sanditon House off and on since crossing to the hereafter, as did other Mr. Hollises before him. The masters of this house seem to have trouble letting go of it.”

  “You are telling me that Sanditon House is inhabited by the spirits of all the Hollises who have ever owned it?”

  “Oh, heavens, no!” She laughed. “That would be the talk of a dotty old woman, wouldn’t it?”

  It certainly would.

  Elizabeth managed a forced laugh in response and stole another glance at Miss Brereton. The younger woman still appeared bewildered. But wherever this conversation was going, at least Mrs. Riley did not believe Sanditon House was haunted.

  “Of course all the misters Hollis are not here at once. The previous spirit leaves when the next master moves on to the afterlife.”

  “But I thought you just said you have not seen Mr. Hollis—Mr. Archibald Hollis—since he died?”

  “I have not seen him. I have heard him. And seen evidence of his visits. He visited regularly during the years Lady Denham lived at Denham Park with Sir Harry. Sanditon House had no master or mistress in residence for more than
two decades—he probably felt it his duty to check on the place periodically.”

  “The house sat vacant for twenty years?” Elizabeth asked.

  “More like twenty-five, I would say.”

  “Was it completely shut up?”

  “Partially. Her ladyship kept me and a greatly reduced staff, and we had a limited number of rooms to take care of.”

  “Why did she not lease the house to tenants?” Given Lady Denham’s strict governance over her money, Elizabeth expected she would have welcomed the opportunity to add rental income to her fortune.

  “Her ladyship has always been independent by nature, even during her marriages,” Mrs. Riley said. “I think she wanted the security of a place to retreat to if she had need of it, or if she quarreled with Sir Harry. But she and the baronet got along well—not at all like the Prince Regent and Princess Caroline, living separate all these years—so she rarely came to Sanditon House while Sir Harry was alive, which is why I think Mr. Hollis visited so often. Since her ladyship’s return about five years ago, he still visits every once in a while. He never causes any trouble, unless you count not tidying up after himself. But then, I suppose it’s not easy for a spirit to set objects to rights that he has knocked down, being disembodied and all.”

  Elizabeth decided that it was probably best to forgo a discussion of how a disembodied spirit could knock over an object in the first place.

  “Do others know of these … visits? Does Lady Denham?”

  “Oh, certainly! In fact, she told me this morning that she suspected he might be drawn to this evening’s party, so I was to leave a tray out for him after the other gentlemen left the dining room.”

  “A tray of food for an incorporeal spirit?”

  “Oh, it would not be the first time unattended food disappeared. Zebediah Hollis—Archibald’s grandfather—was famous for that. I remember when I first came to work here, the older servants used to leave pots of chocolate for him. They said if we took care of the Hollis ghosts, they would do us no harm, and that has proven true. We have gotten used to them, actually. They are rather like pets.”