The Darkness Within Read online

  She was saying, ‘I will be quite happy with Millie here, we will take care of everything and when Emily comes back maybe she will have decided what she wants to do.’ She thought for a moment. ‘It’s a difficult time for her. I know she loved Erland, a fine man he was, and she grieves for him, but I think with all those years between them … the one thing I disapproved of when she married him was that he was old enough to be her father.’ She looked at Faro. ‘Aye, nearer your age than hers. And this is most often what happens: she’s been left a widow. She’s still young.’

  ‘Not as young as you were, Ma.’

  Mary sighed. ‘She should marry again. It was different for me. I never had a man waiting to propose – even if I had wanted another man, which I never did, after your dear father. There could never have existed any man to take his place for me.’ She gave him a sly smile and added: ‘Not like yon nice John Randall.’ She laughed. ‘Anyone with eyes in their head can see that he dotes on our Emily. They would be happy together, and as Magnus thinks the world of him too, it would save Yesnaby’s future.’

  Faro laughed. ‘You are quite a matchmaker, aren’t you?’

  She regarded him narrowly. ‘Haven’t had much success with you. You should marry Imogen.’

  ‘And I would, believe me, if she would have me. It’s not from lack of asking, I can assure you.’

  When Randall called in later to check that Emily was sleeping well and was invited to stay for supper, it was clear to everyone – except Emily – that the doctor was really the patient and suffering from a dose of unrequited love. As Faro wryly observed to Rose, he seemed more than a little put out that this visit to Edinburgh was also in the nature of an experiment for Emily and Magnus, the prelude to a permanent stay once Magnus continued his education at a public school there.

  It also seemed that romance was in the air at Hopescarth, as Millie reported to Mary that her friend, from Skailholm inn, said Sven might be courting. He had been observed visiting a young lady who had booked in on her way to Shetland from the mainland, according to Frank’s register.

  There were always rumours floating about regarding this handsome, unattached young Norwegian, his movements a source of constant interest and speculation, a gift to the gossips of Hopescarth. However, the possibility of an unseen rival for Sven’s affections during her absence from Yesnaby gave her a feeling of disquiet and dread. But forever resourceful, if this was merely a passing infatuation, then she had the power to remove him from the scene of temptation.

  She had an idea. ‘I’m sure it isn’t serious,’ she reported to Rose. ‘As a matter of fact, he has said that he would love to come to Edinburgh with us.’ This wasn’t quite what he had said, having merely hinted in general conversation when she had told him of their plans that he would like to see the city one day.

  Rose was eager to support her sister, even though she considered that Emily’s romantic notions of a future with Sven were ill-advised, so after speaking to Faro and putting the idea down as a thank you from Emily for all Sven’s help, Faro agreed but not altogether enthusiastically, she thought, his accompanying wry glance hinting that he was more than aware of Emily’s real reason. His only comment: ‘It’s your home, you can invite anyone you wish.’

  He was present when she suggested to Sven that he would be most welcome to accompany them to Edinburgh, if he wished.

  Sven’s face brightened immediately. ‘I would love that. I have longed ever since I came over here to see something of Scotland. He told me so much.’ (It was always ‘he’ when he spoke of Erland as one might refer to a deity, Faro thought.) ‘I read all the books in his library, and the history of Edinburgh is so exciting.’ He sighed, ‘It seems like a miracle that I am going to see it at last. I can hardly believe my good fortune, and I cannot thank you enough,’ he added, with that gracious slightly foreign bow to Rose.

  Emily was delighted and hugged her sister. This was one anxiety removed from their departure, Sven taken care of, but much still to do before they left. Tickets were to be bought and Jack informed when to meet the ship, while Mary helped with the washing and ironing of clothes to be packed. Although their visit was to be just two weeks there was still much needed, said Emily. Unlike Rose and Faro, she was not a seasoned traveller and had yet to learn the advantages of travelling light. She had moments of panic, only to be reassured that if she lacked anything, although the two sisters could never have worn items from each other’s wardrobe – one small and curvaceous, the other tall and thin – there were many shops on Princes Street, and Rose would make sure that she enjoyed that experience.

  Another problem was that boys of Magnus’s age were constantly outgrowing their clothes and Emily thought about the unreliable weather and the vagaries of playing outside on Arthur’s Seat, as well as his books and games that needed to be sorted out and packed.

  Emily need not have feared. As always, there was a helping hand waiting in readiness. Watching her, Sven smiled. They were not to worry; he would act as their porter.

  ‘You are so kind. Thank goodness you are coming with us. What would we do without you?’ She was rewarded by Sven’s most irresistible smile.

  ‘It will be my pleasure, as always.’

  With only two days remaining and all preparations safely under way, Emily decided that they should go into Kirkwall. Magnus was definitely needing a new suit in case, as she hoped, he had an interview at Fettes College. ‘He grows at such a rate these days, and shirts get so short in the sleeves,’ she said.

  Magnus wasn’t too pleased. He found going to outfitters one of the most boring things in life, but better the devils he knew in Kirkwall than wasting precious holiday time trailing round strange Edinburgh shops.

  Meg was delighted at the prospect of another Kirkwall visit and particularly wanted something nice to take back to Sister Agnes at her school, the convent run by the Little Sisters of the Poor. English and history were her best subjects and it seemed that Meg was a favourite pupil by all accounts, while Rose and Jack were very happy with her progress.

  For Faro, going into Kirkwall was a final opportunity to look in at the police station, and although he doubted it, to discover if there was any advance on whether the remains of L. Minton washed overboard from the royal yacht had been sighted.

  Taking Rose aside to tell her of his intention, he added: ‘We both know now that there’s no longer the remotest chance of us finding any clues to solving the mystery of Mr Smith’s murder.’

  Rose nodded. ‘Only the royal yacht might have the answer to that one. They must know perfectly well who this passenger was, preferring to travel incognito. Probably someone famous and very rich who had paid a small fortune for the privilege.’

  ‘As well as his life,’ Faro added grimly. And with a welcome change of subject: ‘Let’s make a day of it. I’ll take you all to lunch.’

  ‘A great idea, Pa. Having lunch out is always such a treat for the children, and for Gran.’

  Faro laughed. He knew that Mary, despite being highly critical of the food being served in restaurants and horrified at what she considered unnecessary expense, would enjoy it. Magnus wanted to take Meg on a proper tour of the cathedral, whose name he so proudly bore, and show her where the saint’s skull was buried. Meg decided that would be a splendid topic for school’s inevitable ‘My holiday this year’ summer essay.

  Rose was not greatly interested in shopping with, as she told Emily, the prospect of all Edinburgh’s Princes Street at hand. She was eager to know if there had been any developments in the police station’s records, and had decided to go with Faro.

  He was less enthusiastic than she had hoped and did not think that a good idea. Asked why not, he replied that he could not see the sergeant welcoming the attentions of the very attractive Mrs Macmerry in her real-life role as a lady investigator. Policemen were probably even more conservative on the islands about what they considered a woman’s proper role in a man’s life.

  Hurt by her father’s reject
ion and his apparent lack of sympathy for women’s present role in society, as an active suffragette annoyed and outraged by yet another display of man’s injustice, she decided to be of more use walking with Gran, revisiting the places she had known in childhood, pretending that was the reason, rather than giving the old lady a helping arm up the steep hill to the cottage where they once lived and maybe seeing some of her old neighbours.

  She had been surprised that for once Gran had been eager to join them on their excursion until Emily supplied a possible reason: if she and Magnus left Yesnaby House and went to live in Edinburgh, Gran would be content to return to Kirkwall and the tiny cottage where she had lived most of her life.

  Sven set them down by the cathedral. With the future of the motor car still undecided there were interested contacts here in Kirkwall to be pursued, he said, declining the invitation to lunch. There were also still matters to be attended to in Hopescarth and back at the house. He would return for them at, say, four o’clock, if that would give them enough time.

  ‘He is so good,’ Emily said, repeating it as she did so often: ‘What would I do without him?’ However, her eyes narrowed slightly watching him drive off again. At the back of her mind, the thought intruded about how much time he would be spending on the motor car business and whether he had plenty of time, several hours in fact, for an assignation with this woman Millie had told her about.

  After an hour’s interval fortified by an excellent lunch, activities resumed and with shopping and other matters accomplished, the two children would have been quite happy to go back on the motor bus, but there were parcels to carry and so it was, that as the clock struck four, all feeling somewhat exhausted, they waited in the square, but it was half an hour later before Sven appeared.

  He was full of apologies and looked anxious. On the drive back, Sven’s preoccupation went unnoticed by his passengers, except for Faro, who had been hoping for some last-minute revelations at the police station. There had been none; a waste of time. As he and Rose were to discuss later on the ship going to Leith, their interest in the strange behaviour of the royal yacht anchoring so secretly away from Kirkwall, the cover-up of the man overboard whose body was still afloat somewhere in those wild seas around the islands, crowned by the mysterious identity of Mr Smith, who they believed had been murdered, were all mysteries destined to remain unsolved.

  Rose could sympathise. She understood perfectly that Faro did not enjoy being defeated, his whole life story as a detective had been to find that final clue and bring the criminal to justice. This was a situation that ended the visit to Yesnaby for both of them on a sour note.

  There was worse to come, and an even more sour note to end their visit.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Faro had been engrossed in his own thoughts on the drive back. Now, he learnt the reason for Sven’s preoccupation.

  He had bad news to impart.

  In their absence, there had been a sinister attack on Yesnaby House.

  As the party disembarked at the house, Sven assisted the ladies and whispered to Faro: ‘Sir, I don’t know how to tell Mrs Yesnaby.’ He took a deep breath. ‘While you were in Kirkwall, the garden has been attacked by vandals. It was when I came back to check some things for her that I looked out of the window and saw the damage.’ He shuddered. ‘I could hardly believe my eyes.’

  Emily had to be warned immediately. She was horrified, especially as Sven was very distressed by the scene, his immediate thought being for Erland’s precious orchids.

  ‘It can’t be local people. It must be plant poachers who he warned us about. Sven says these orchids are valuable and very rare.’

  Faro and Rose had followed them down into the garden. Faro was considering the scene before them.

  The earth was disturbed but no orchids had been taken. They were untouched, unharmed. Most damaged was the rockery around the area of the ancient wall, all that remained of the original house, the mermaid stone almost obliterated by time’s passing centuries above Erland’s favourite place in the garden, a sunny sheltered spot.

  Faro said: ‘I don’t think this is the work of a criminal gang, Emily, rest assured. There would have been more damage. This is the work of one person, taking advantage of the time that we were all in Kirkwall.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rose agreed. ‘Nobody at home, not even Millie.’ She knew but did not add that she suspected they knew what they were looking for.

  ‘But who would want to dig up our garden? It’s monstrous and wicked,’ said Emily.

  Mary wasn’t willing to tackle those steep steps. She regarded the damage from the top and shouted down: ‘I don’t know what this world is coming to, people with nothing better to do than to break into gardens and make such a mess of them. The islands were never like this in my young day, everyone fighting to survive, that was more than enough to keep them busy, minding their own business.’

  Sven was frowning, silently contemplating the devastation. Faro turned to him. ‘Have you any theories?’

  ‘I think this is the work of the archaeologists. They have decided to extend their activities, waiting for their chance when we were all away.’

  ‘If they knew so much about it, they would have surely waited a few days longer,’ Faro suggested and Sven made no comment. After a moment’s thought he added: ‘By what you are saying, do you think they are searching for something they believe is hidden here?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I do indeed,’ Sven said quickly. ‘It is what they have always been searching for, for years now: the Maid of Norway’s dowry, of course.’

  ‘That’s just a story,’ said Magnus scornfully. He and Meg had joined them and she was perched on the stone seat, smiling a little, unable to understand why grown-ups could make such a fuss about soil scattered about in a garden. Dogs did that all the time in Edinburgh, burying bones.

  Magnus was regarding Sven sternly. ‘Everyone knows that the ship carrying her treasures, her jewellery and money chests were lost. According to the few records of the time, after she died they carried her ashore and buried her – somewhere on the islands, no one knows where, lots of claims through the ages – but the treasure, her dowry, wasn’t buried with her. The ship set sail for Norway, but they never got there. They just vanished, probably caught in a storm and sunk, or taken by pirates.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s the theory, anyway.’

  That was quite a speech for a ten-year old, Faro decided, and very knowledgeable about local history, he thought, giving the lad an admiring glance. Sven’s tightened lips showed disapproval; he did not like being contradicted by a mere child and said coldly, ‘It could have been someone who believed the story. They probably heard that Mrs Yesnaby was off on holiday and decided to take this opportunity.’

  ‘What do you think, Pa?’ Emily asked gently.

  He looked at Sven and said: ‘I think it is extremely unlikely that whoever did this got the day wrong.’

  Emily sighed. ‘I can’t believe it was the archaeologists either; they have hardly been seen this summer. They’ve moved off to another more promising dig on South Ronaldsay. And I don’t think we can include those divers still hoping, since some coins appeared down the coast, that they might have stumbled on that wrecked galleon from the Spanish Armada.’

  Regarding the scene tearfully, she repeated: ‘It is so awful. It must have been someone local, but who could have hated us enough to do this? Everyone loved Erland and knew how he treasured his garden. It’s-it’s like … sacrilege, somehow.’

  Rose had said little. ‘It looks as if a hurricane has swept across,’ said Emily pointing to the ancient high wall. ‘That has always protected the sunken garden from the weather and it has escaped almost every storm since Erland’s great-grandfather landscaped it.’

  There had been no storm that day; it was calm and bright.

  After examining the scene carefully, Faro had returned to the house. He now came back down the steps to the garden and said: ‘I’ve had a look at the ground on the outside. Whoever did
this would have needed a ladder to climb the wall since there is no access to the garden except by those steep steps’ – he pointed – ‘or from the house.’

  Emily sighed sadly. ‘But Sven says there was no evidence of a break-in, apart from a half-open window.’ She shook her head. ‘My fault, I’m afraid, I’m a bit careless about security.’

  ‘Which window was that?’ Faro asked sharply.

  ‘On the side of the house, the wall below Erland’s study.’

  ‘Oh, I know the one you mean and it is eight feet from the ground, so once again a tall ladder would have been needed as well as a very small, thin burglar. No normal-sized man could have got in that way.’ He paused scratched his head and continued: ‘As in all crimes, great or small, there has to be a motive. Any ideas, Rose?’

  She shrugged and he continued: ‘No clues of any kind inside and no evidence outside, no ladder marks against the wall. As for Sven’s theory about the archaeologists, they cannot be blamed for this piece of vandalism.’

  Faro continued to walk round the garden, silent and preoccupied. Rose asked: ‘What’s wrong, Pa? Care to share it?’

  He smiled. ‘Just something odd that I haven’t worked out yet.’ He gave her a hard look. ‘Come, now, let me have your thoughts.’

  She shook her head and he went on: ‘You have been here before. Did Erland ever tell you anything?’

  A sharp glance. ‘What kind of “anything” had you in mind, Pa?’

  He shrugged. ‘All I can say is that from the first moment I stepped into this garden, I have felt … something. I don’t pretend to be like you, Rose, I’m not psychic, but each time I have been down here I have had that same feeling, that this is a place of mystery. If I was psychic, I would say that it is haunted. No, that is the wrong word, haunting hints at ghosts and horrors.’