Free The Riddle of Alabaster Royal by Patricia Veryan Page A

to play the role of a helpless invalid.
    His hopes that some of his neighbours might call were soon dashed. The only caller had been the unfortunate post-boy, who’d come with considerable trepidation to the front door, demanding payment of his fees plus damages for the wrecked chaise and the slain hack. Vespa had questioned him about the accident, but had gained only the information that “they was a pair of proper down-the-road gents.” When they’d refused to stop, the boy said, he’d been sure Vespa was dead, so he had taken the surviving hack and ridden in search of help. By the time a constable could be persuaded to accompany him to the scene of the wreck, there was not a sign of the coach, the dead horse, or the ‘corpse’. The post-boy had been given “a proper bear garden jaw” about telling raspers to officers of the law. “I ’spect gypsies prigged the horse,” the boy said aggrievedly. “And the coach.” Vespa paid the fees and gave the boy a generous douceur, but he was not, he’d declared, “a flat”, and denied responsibility for the damages.
    While allowing Secrets to rest her hurt knee, he had began to explore his silent mansion. His first reconnoitre was cursory, involving merely the opening of doors and a quick scan of the dusty, furniture-shrouded interiors. In some cases he discovered rooms leading into connecting rooms. In others, he was thwarted by doors so warped he would exhaust himself in a doomed battle to get them open, prompting a resolve to hire a carpenter as soon as possible. He was continually astonished by the size of the mansion, and stunned when he came upon a good-sized ballroom, hushed and forlorn in its cobwebby emptiness, and flanked by several ante-rooms. In addition to that long-unused chamber, by the end of his preliminary exploration, he had discovered twenty bedchambers—some with adjoining parlours, dressing rooms or servants’ rooms; a once extensive library with many dusty books still on the shelves; a schoolroom, weapons and game rooms; a sewing room, study, morning and breakfast parlours; the very large drawing room; a daunting fifty-foot-long formal dining room; the kitchen, scullery and flower rooms, pantry, butler’s study, and quarters for at least thirty servants.
    On his second tour, he started out armed with a pad and pencil to make notes of the approximate positions and dimensions of the various rooms, and determine which were in repairable condition and which must be closed off. This proved a more taxing endeavour than he’d anticipated. He was irritated to find that he still tired easily and that to persist after his wounds began to throb was to invite a night of misery.
    On a late afternoon at the end of his first week’s occupancy, he was pacing off the dimensions of a large ante-room at the south end of the ground floor, accompanied as always by Corporal. Once again his night’s sleep had been disturbed, this time by a piercing scream. Once again, he’d limped into the corridor only to find it deserted; and once again, he’d woken this morning wondering if any of it had really happened.
    The day had been grey, the skies overcast and the sun never putting in an appearance, which might account for the fact that this end of the house was exceptionally chill, and so quiet that he felt deafened by the stillness. He gathered his sketch-pad and papers together and stared down at them, lost in thought. During this entire week he’d scarcely uttered a word to a soul except for the sulky post-boy and an occasional exchange with Strickley. Grudgingly, he faced the fact that he was becoming bored with peace, and dissatisfied with his Spartan menu. And, although he loved to read, he missed human companionship. It was not that he was tired of Alabaster Royal, or that he believed all the ‘ghost’ nonsense, but he’d be dashed glad when his friends responded to his