A Study in Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 4) (16 page)

Thurston Purrington dismounts his steed and leaves his wife Beulah aboard the two thousand pound black bear.

“So! I hear there’s been bloodshed in the Manor! The great Professor Plumtartt dinnae know squat on raising a daughter to properly attend to the hoose!”

“I assure you, my dear Mr. Purrington, every effort is being made to secure the house, all who dwell in it, and its vicinity.”

“By arresting an innocent man!” Mrs. Purrington’s bloodshot eyes betray her emotional investment with the tragedy of our affairs last night.

“Inquiries are still being made as regards the matter,” Miss Plumtartt calmly replies. “As it so happens, we are considering the use of non-traditional means of furthering our investigations. A supernatural lead is planned to be followed upon. It is to be at the Manor, tonight. Would you care to attend?”

Thurston, Beulah and Winnifred have a huddled private discussion before a spokesman for the group informs us of their decision.

“Yeah, we’ll be there.”

Momma and Poppa begin the bear-backed Barrow pair bearing bear back to the cave.

bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup,bup

“I hear the approach of a steam driven vehicle, Miss Plumtartt.”

“Indeed, for there it is, a bright, candy apple red touring car comes into view. If the sun had been strong enough to penetrate the low hanging clouds, this horseless carriage would no doubt be gleaming with polished brilliance.”

“Well, it’s easy enough to recognize the figure that stands up in the back seat waving to us so vociferously. That figure is hard to miss. Her tepid husband remains in his seat.”

“Ah, hey! Ciao! Persephone! I make-ah with-ah the yoo-hoos. It is I, Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza! Hey! We ah hear of the tragedy at-ah the Plumtartt Manor. Some-ah stupido garden boy goes and gets himself stuck in-ah the mysterious circumstances, henh? Not-ah such a good desert I am thinking. My poor Persephone! I tell-ah my little Persnicitus, hey! We gotta go and see my British Bambina and make-ah the sure she is not making with-ah the traumatics. But no! She is the tower of strength! Si! How my Italian heart swells with the love when I see this girl! I gots-ah to jumps down from this fancy steamer-car and run over to hug and kiss my Persephone Plumtartt! Ah-Smooch-Ah! Ah-Smooch-Ah! Oh. Hello, little American boy.”

“Howdy Miss Sforza.”

“How nice to see you, Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza, and how kind of you to be concerned with my welfare.”

“Ha! Ha! Of course I am concerned! You are such-ah the funny girl, Persephone! That is why I love, love, love this girl! Ha, ha!”

“Charming. You may be interested to know that we intend to hold a séance tonight at the Manor. Would you and Mr. Sforza be interested in attending?”

“WOULD WE BE INTERESTED IN ATTENDING!!! YOU BETCHA!!! You ah gots-ah
NO
idea how much-ah I have been wanting to get into that house! Ha! Ha! Ciao! Persephone!!! … and your little man.”

“See ya later, y’all.”

Signora Francesca Angelina Marianna Sforza instructs her driver on the business of getting the steamer turned about and headed for home.

“Let’s go see how our new gardener is getting along, Miss Plumtartt.”

“An excellent plan, Mr. Temperance. Let us peruse his progress. Perhaps he has chosen a whimsical animal motif for trimming the bushes.”

“He didn’t strike me as the type, Ma’am. We’ll just have to go and see.”

I can’t say that we are too surprised when we walk up to see that our Crimpenmestylenshire slacker has not even started on the hedges. Instead, he is sitting under a tree with his back against the trunk. Smoking a disreputable clay pipe so often favored by English farmers, he does not even deign to look up at our approach.

“Trying to conceive of a pleasing form for the hedges before actually beginning one’s work, I see. Do you plan to create the illusion of a flying elephant, its over sized ears granting the chubby chap elevation, or do you foresee an innocent fawn? Perhaps you intend to delight us with the image of an improbably cheerful mouse?”

~Hah-wahk-ah-puh-tooey!~
rejoins our charming new potential gardener. “Oi did think Oi’d cops a squat an’ gives dees ‘edges a litt-elle contemplation before applying me shears.”
~Tooey.~

“I applaud your mental applications. Did you come to any interesting findings?”

The would-be pruner still has not looked up at us. His head is bowed and the stem of his smoldering pipe rests against his wide forehead.

“It tooks a moment for me’s to see its at fust, but soon enough, dees hedges began to speak to me.”

His distinctive Crimpenmestylenshire accent comes to us in soft tones as the fellow relaxes into a contemplative dissertation.

“Oi sees where der’s been a repetition in deh cuts soometoimes. You see where dat branch is cut two thorns past the first intersection, and again over ‘ere. If you’de take deh toime ta notice, you’d see it repeated ‘ere an’ ‘ere. Dees inuhveenin’ branches seem to convey differin’ cuttin’ pattuns, roight? Well, Oi says to meseff, let me see if Oi can’t follow dis loine of thought oot a beet. Wotz do you know? A message presents itseff to me as clearly as if printed in the Elderberry Paund Gazeet.”

“How very intriguing, sir. And what did the Eleagnes whisper into your observant ear?”

Turning a pair of mischievous, twinkling, light gray eyes up to us, he answers in a familiar, high, sophisticated and educated speech pattern.

“Come now Temperance and Madame, I know you possess the wit and I have given you the key.”

Miss Plumtartt and I shout out our London detective friend’s name together in shocked joy and surprise.

“Yes, it is I. This disguise has allowed me to move with impunity through the discomforting open spaces of your countryside, Madame.”

“It sure is good to see you again, sir. We really could use your help. There’s been all kinds of shenanigans goin’ on around heres.”

“So I am given to understand.”

“Oh, yeah! I was hoping to get to see you again. I wanted to give you a little something for helping us out back in London. Here ya go.”

I pull the cloth wrapped device from my coat.

The detective is taken aback. He turns his head away for a full three count before turning back to us. Something has softened in his composure.

“I know that my actions, though done for the purpose of being of a service to you, were painful to your sensitive nature, my friend. I assure you, it was a very difficult exercise for me. My behaviour was quite beastly when I think of harming the naïve and noble spirit of Mr. Ichabod Temperance. For you to still have it in you to be so kind as to maintain your affection touches me deeply, young man.”

“Aw, it’s okay, sir. I’m just really happy to see you again. Here ya go.”

The detective graciously accepts the bundle with a short bow. He takes a moment attempting to ascertain what is contained within. I take more than a small amount of pleasure at having confounded him as to the contents. He does rather quickly catch onto the device’s use and operation almost as soon as he unwraps it, though.

“I call it a D.O.Y.L.E.”

“Detective’s.”

“Optical.”

“Ymaging.”

“Lens.”

“Enhancement.”

“Splendid! Several vigorous depressions upon the thumb lever would apparently be sufficient to build a temporary power source for animating the device. Not only does it provide a light source, but by twisting the handle, the operator is able to manipulate the level of magnification. Marvelous, sir! This tool shall be of enormous assistance to me in my endeavors!”

“Glad you like it, sir.”

“Now fill me in on all the information you have to date. Spare no detail. There is nothing of more value than the trivial. Pray enlighten me.”

Miss Plumtartt does the honors of filling in our consulting counselor. She has been paying attention! She is able to fill in all sorts of little stuff that I had forgotten about. Eventually she asks her own question of the great deducer.

“Would you be so kind as to read us the message of the hedges? My shrubbery translating skills are not what they ought to be.”

“Of course, Madame. I shall spare you the more tedious analysis of how I came to my reasoning and skip straight to the meat of it. The first cipher decodes as, “Beware the Gang of Ones”. Its cryptic response is, “Please use your blasted lantern. Despise hedgeloglyphs.” Its rejoinder reads: “Do as you’re told and use the hedges.”

“What’s it mean, sir?”

“It means, Temperance, that you need to remain at your highest state of alert.”

“Yessir.”

“I have one more question for you both. Why are you on foot and not traveling by horse or cart?”

“They were all in service.”

“Hmm. I see. I need to be closer to the scene of action. I intend to gain employment in the household. Should you recognize me, refrain from acknowledgement.”

“Understood, detective.”

“Yessir!”

“Farewell.”

“Let’s cut across the fields to go back to the Manor, Miss Plumtartt, instead of walking back the same way we came.”

“As you wish, Mr. Temperance, I have no aversion to these long-grassed meadows.”

“I ain’t even had a chance to see behind the mansion, Miss Plumtartt. Can we angle our path so that we can walk around back?”

“Certainly, Mr. Temperance.”

“I’m glad you’re an outdoorsey girl, Miss Plumtartt. These thick tangles of bristly grass would severely inhibit the progress of the average person.”

“I do so strive to be above the average, sir.”

“Golly, now that we have made our way past the house, I am getting my first view of the dreadful moors.”

“A stark and unforgiving scene, no doubt. Some would say they have a savage beauty to them.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Some folks are funny that way.”

“It grows colder, Mr. Temperance.”

“Yes, Ma’am. The wind is picking up, too.”

“I say, the dark, dun-coloured clouds drop low, taking us in their moist embrace, eh hem?”

“Ee-ew. What do y’all call this area again?”

“The Great Sucking Death Mire. It is named for the bottomless pits of quicksand muck and mire that threaten to draw the unwary to a watery grave.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“To the unwary, certainly.”

“Are there snakes?”

“You bet your asp.”

Miss Plumtartt stands straight and true, looking out across the misty landscape.

“I confess to being restless, Mr. Temperance. I think that I should like to go for a stroll upon the moor.”

“But we were instructed to avoid the moor, Miss Plumtartt.”

My radiant rose, despite the low light conditions, shows a tiny amount of impatience as she smartly raps her parasol upon a handy stone.

“I consider this moor to be my own backyard. I refuse to show an ounce of timidity on this estate. Are you accompanying me or not?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I’m coming with you.”

I am usually heartened by outdoor excursions such as this, but the sad soughing of the wind through the dead undergrowth fills my soul with a melancholy melody. The cold gray mists press against us. Visibility is only a few feet as the fog enshrouds us in an ethereal curtain. I have difficulty maintaining my bearings while at the same time minding both my own footing and that of Miss Plumtartt. Sticky cleaver weeds vie with tangling burr balls and lattice-paned hitch-hikers for a ride through the unhealthy mire. Miraculously, I find a stick to help clear a path as I use it like a dull jungle clearing blade. I try to allow my own clothing to absorb the worst herbivoric attackers in an attempt at protecting Miss Plumtartt from their needy assaults.

“Eh hem, one moment please, Mr. Temperance. I need to affix my hat.”

“Yes, Ma’am. That five foot diameter yellow hat you are wearing makes a swell kite in this wind.”

“To the point that I must secure it by means of this taffeta sash.”

“There you go. Looks like you’re all secure now. You just follow me as I pick a path across this rising and falling terrain, among lichen covered boulders, that are squeezed from the landscape like bubbles struggling to escape a thick skinned soup.”

“Actually, the not-so-fertile loam surrounding the rocks bring to mind visions of the French Fleet sinking into the English Channel to my mind, eh hem?”

“If you say so, Ma’a...
Woah!
”

“Eh hem, it seems you are among the unwary, Mr. Temperance, and an incautious step onto a tuft of grass has revealed that it rode upon a watery surface.”

“Golly, I am suddenly in a sitting position as the treacherously camouflaged bracken water has taken my right leg up to the knee after I shamefully trusted to its worthiness.”

“It happens to the best of people, Mr. Temperance.”

“I’m glad I’m wearing my gaiters, Miss Plumtartt. Otherwise I’d have a boot full of water, and I hate getting my socks wet.”