The Churchill Casebook of Curiosities
Book Three: The Velvet Wraith
Chapter Two: Enter, the Host
Call it professional curiositySaturday 2nd August 1879: Highbury Hall, Birmingham
As it eventuated I was quite wrong about the early morning banging portending doom.
As I hastily dressed I pulled my curtains aside and caught a glimpse of a well dressed gentleman in a black riding cloak storming off down the long drive. When I finally joined my companions downstairs—dressing correctly in a manner the highborn might expect takes an inordinate amount of time—Mr Van der Valk was gruffly explaining to Silas and Jack regarding the banging. “‘Twas nothing, just a vagabond.”
I raised an eyebrow at that, for the man I has seen was far too well dressed for a mere beggar. Mr Macbeth arrived before I could say anything, inviting us to join Doctor Chamberlain (at last!) for breakfast in the arboretum. I saw my opportunity. “Thank you, Mrs Macbeth. May I ask if the gentleman on the drive will be dining with us?”
She didn’t blink nor pause. “He will not.”
“I must say he didn’t strike me as a vagabond?”
“I’m sure I cannot say, Miss.”
Hm.
The conservatory was a splendid place, full to overflowing with all manner of plants both native and foreign, much of it tropical to the untrained eye. The scent from all that life combined with the light beaming in from the large glass windows made for an enchanting scene. It was quite glorious.
Equally glorious was our host, Doctor Chamberlain.
Doctor Joseph Chamberlain
He was a middle-aged man with a relaxed face and messy short hair, and his pink ruffled shirt matched his gold necklace and silk cravat nicely. He beamed as we entered, clutching a fork in one hand that held a slice of ham. His other hand was set in a cast.
“Spikey my old friend—finally! Come, come, sit and eat, don’t be shy! Excuse me for not standing, I’m ravenous!” he said shoving the ham into his mouth then crunching into a pear for good measure.
“Joseph, it is good to see you,” Silas said rather more formally.
“And you must be the scandelous Miss Harrow!”
“It is a great pleasure to meet one of Spikey’s childhood chums, Doctor Chamberlain,” I said holding a hand out for a kiss that didn’t come.
“Call me ‘Potters’, please, no need for formality here my good lady! And here is the ‘brutish and cunning'—as the Birmingham press would have it—Blackwood! Come, come, eat up before I finish all this!”
“Brutish?” Jack said haplessly.
“Well if only the half of what I hear is true I am delighted,” Chamberlain grinned widely, “And it not then I will be rather disappointed.”
We joined him at the table and soon were enjoying the lavish spread. It seemed quite obvious to me that Doctor Chamberlain was under the spell of a tonic similar to what I had, of late, used to lubricate the day. He was overly awake, almost manic, and a far cry from the malaria-stricken victim I had expected. “Tell me, Doctor, what did you study?” I asked.
“Medicine, just like Spikey here.”
“And botany? This display of yours is very impressive.”
“Botany is a hobby, madam.”
“And your hand, how was it injured may I ask?”
“Well that is quite the tale. After surviving the jungles of Ecuador, defended only be a few hardy fellows from the wild natives, some of who fell even as I did not, I returned here to Birmingham only to stumble as I alighted my carriage. I fell on my arm and broke it clean through!”
“Would you like me to examine it, Joseph?” Silas said, managing to get a word in.
“No, no it is quite fine I am sure,” Chamberlain boasted, demonstrating by knocking it on the table edge as he drained his glass of breakfast wine.
“We were warned not to venture onto the grounds last night as your pets may be dangerous,” I said. “Did you bring them with you from Ecuador?”
“No, no, not Ecuador. We returned with something far more subtle,” Chamberlain teased. “Step this way and I will show you.”
He led us to the greenhouse proper, a wonderous glass cathedral two stories high covered in plants and vines. A cast-iron gantry ran around the upper floor, which must provide a splendid overhead view—I vowed to climb up there when the opportunity arose (little did I know…) It was very humid in the glass house, explaining Mrs Macbeth’s earlier instruction to keep the doors closed where possible.
“Ladies and gentlemen—my orchids!” Chamberlain exclaimed.
It was then that we noticed that almost every plant in here was an orchid. “I have collected over 3000 varieties,” he said with great pleasure. Even I, an avowed city-girl, was impressed.
“I rather suspect this is far more a passion than a mere hobby, Doctor Chamberlain,” I smiled.
“You are perspicacious Miss Harrow—it is indeed a passion!”
“I know something about those,” I smiled suggestively.
“I’m sure you do, madam, I’m sure you do. But whilst I am proud of all of this, there is something even more special. Please, follow me to the pride of my collection.”
Inside the greenhouse was another smaller glass structure, octagonal and only as high as two men—a greenhouse within a greenhouse. Whatever lay withing was near invisible thanks to the thick humidity that fogged the glass.
Before Chamberlain could reveal his secret, Mrs Macbeth suddenly appeared. “He’s back sir, and he won’t leave.”
“Curse that man!” Chamberlain cried. “Very well, show him to the library. I do apologise,” he added turning to us, “This is most tiresome. Please join me and hopefully we can get this over with.”
Inside we found a very stern, very agitated man. He was dressed just like the man I had seen earlier, in a bureaucrat’s suit and tie, putting paid to the ‘vagabond’ ruse. His eyeglasses were far too small making his eyes seem even smaller.
Mr William Watson
Before Chamberlain had a chance to speak the gentleman was in full flight. “Let me be blunt, Doctor Chamberlain; the OC must be allowed access prior to the presentation, in order to independently verify and, ideally, transport the specimen to Madrid for comparison! We will brook no argument!” he said thumping his fist onto the table.
“I do not acquiesce to your demands, Mr Secretary!” Chamberlain bristled.
“Then it will not be endorsed and your entry must be withdrawn!”
“I am not subject to your control or whims, Watson! Not yours nor the OC’s!”
“Now listen here, Chamberlain, you will not—”
“I shall present my property with or without your ratification! Now make yourself scarce before I take matters into my own hands!!” Chamberlain growled, his steaming anger matching the humidity from the greenhouse.
“I take no leave of you, Chamberlain!” Watson said gathering his satchel. “I am at the Nettle and Thorn—you have twenty-four hours to accede to our demands after which I will be leaving and your entry forfeit.”
He stalked out of the room and I quickly followed. “Mr Watson, a word if you will,” I called.
He spun with a frown. “And who might you be, madam?”
“I am a friend of a friend of Mr Chamberlain’s,” I explained.
“I have no words for associates of that scoundrel.”
“But surely there is a misunderstanding, Mr Watson. Perhaps I can assist in settling this dispute if you will tell me the nature of it?”
“The Orchid Committee has made itself quite clear, madam, and I have no time for this nonsense.”
“There is something you want Doctor Chamberlain to do. Let me help—what is it?”
“No madam! I have had quite enough and if you do not leave me—”
“You will what?” Blackwood snarled, suddenly by my side. I had not heard him approach.
“Well. I will—”
“Yes?” Blackwood said menacingly, reaching into his ever-present satchel for his hammer!
“Not again, Mr Blackwood! Not again!” I hissed, putting a hand on his arm to still it.
Watson, somewhat pale, snorted, turned on his heel, and left the building.
“They want to steal my discovery, taking the credit for their ridiculous and petty Society,” Chamberlain explained as he led us back to the mini greenhouse. “It is tantamount to theft and I will have nothing to do with it. When people see what I have found there will be no question.”
“Does Mr Watson suspect fraud?” I asked.
“No. He seeks glory.”
He carefully opened the glass door and led us inside. What lay within took my breath away.
The Velvet Wraith
An single brilliant blue orchid sat on a metal table, three flowers blooming. The petals were a vibrant blue unlike any I had seen, with darker blue veins and a deep purple heart.
“Beautiful,” I whispered reverently, “I have never seen anything quite so striking.”
“Again you show great insight, Miss Harrow,” Chamberlain said in uncharacteristically hushed tones. “This is the Velvet Wraith. You will not find anything like it anywhere on the planet.”
“And this is what you carried back with you from Ecuador?”
“Precisely. It is exceedingly rare; this is the only example on this continent. As the OC will tell you the only other sample is in Madrid, and that one is not alive, merely a preserved remnant. It was retrieved many years ago by an expedition to Brazil. Like my recent exploration, their journey was fraught and dangerous. Many of their company fell victim to disease, madness, animal attacks and worse. The leader was found on death’s door by local Indian’s and nursed back to health. The sole survivor, he carried the plant back to civilisation but it was dead by the time it reached Madrid.”
“Now you are the second man to return a specimen—but yours lives,” I said with admiration.
“Indeed, madam. My own expedition fell victim to similar circumstance. But with Van der Valk’s assistance we succeeded where they failed. I plan to present the plant to the Royal Horticultural Society once I finish my examination, and thence to the world where it shall be lauded like no other.”
“And you, sir, shall be famous.”
“That is not my goal,” Chamberlain said haughtily. “There is more to this—much more.”
“What else, Joseph?” Silas said quietly. I suspected he already knew what came next.
“I too fell gravely ill, and I too was healed. Healed by the extract of the Velvet Wraith!”
Silas looked grave. “You mean to find the healing property of this orchid and sell it to the world.”
“Not sell, Spikey! To give it. There is more than just healing hidden within this wonder—that is why I invited you here. My useless arm prohibits me from some of the more delicate operations, but with your help I will reveal what that is. Imagine the possibilities!”
It was suddenly obvious to me what Doctor Chamberlain had been self-medicating with: his wonder-salve. Silas saw it too.
“What is it you wish to do?” Silas asked warily.
“There are components we need to extract, and isolate from any and all side-effects,” Chamberlain explained excitedly.
“You know as well as I that that can be quite difficult whilst maintaining the plant’s integrity.”
“I have perfected a technique and have all the equipment required! You will merely be my arms.”
“You mentioned side effects?” I interrupted.
“Well yes—some pain and discomforts,” Chamberlain said evasively.
“The screams last night, for example?”
Chamberlain looked at me blankly. He had no memory of them? “Screams? Only headaches, madam, like quinine might cause.”
“Will this work, Silas?” I asked.
“It’s too early to say. Do you have notes, Joseph?”
“Of course! Always one to dot the i’s and cross the t’s eh Doctor Spikey?” Chamberlain grinned.
“Exactly. Which is why I’m a very good Doctor,” Silas emphasised.
In Chamberlain’s study Silas started sifting through a huge pile of folios. There were requisitions for the Ecuadorian expedition, travel plans, and other ephemera. Eventually he found the diary entries regarding the orchid: talking to locals until the path was found; someone dying of snakebite; deteriorating conditions and local communication becoming nigh impossible; until finally atop a highland plateau the elusive orchid was found.
“What environment?” Silas said not lifting his head.
“I have determined it needs a humidity level of 67 to 100 degrees; and a temperature from 28 Celsius and above.”
“And have you propagated it?”
“Working on it, Spikey, working on it. Rather outside your area of expertise, what?”
“Call it professional curiosity,” Silas muttered.
“The sharp mind seeks knowledge!”
“What about the extract, is it from the flower itself?”
“The ovary,” Chamberlain explained.
“How many did you kill to get the orchid?” I asked.
“Flowers?”
“Natives. Presumably they protected it closely given the rarity?”
“On the contrary, madam, they wanted to see it spread far and wide.”
This gave me pause, and even Silas lifted his head from his readings. Why would the natives let such a precious and rare plant be taken freely? Was it just altruism? Perhaps a religious doctrine that called for spreading good tidings? It seemed…unlikely.
“Well Joseph—to the laboratory?”
Chamberlain looked surprised. “It’s rather late, Spikey, why don’t we wait until tomorrow?”
Silas pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s 10AM, Joseph.”
“Right. Well. Onward!”
There was a lot of ‘labwork’ to be done and I was quickly bored so I left the gentlemen to it. Jack was as happy as a pig in mud and I could see even Silas was learning something from Chamberlain’s tutelage. This was a surprise, but Silas was a man of human medicine, not plant, so I suppose it made some sense.
I wandered away and back to the greenhouse, fulfilling my mission to climb the gantry. The view was indeed wonderful, the lavish array of orchids and long vines creating a lush and vivid scene. I ventured further into the northern wing of the glass, finding large palms that grew higher even than the gantry within.
As I stepped toward one a hideous scream and screech of fury rang out from something or someone very close! I looked around me, frantic, and froze in terror when I found the source of the cry.
A large furred creature—or man?—was lowering itself toward me from the nearest palm. Its eyes were brilliant yellow and it had an enormous red nose. It screeched again to reveal a mouth full of huge and savage teeth.
I screamed just as loudly in return, stumbling away.
“Meche! Underlay, vamoosh!” a voice urged by my ear. It was Van der Valk! He stepped in front of me and repeated his indecipherable demand and, to my great astonishment and relief, the creature scurried away.
“Thank you Mr Van der Valk! What did you say to it?” I gasped.
“Just that you are not something that it can eat,” he grunted.
“Eat?”
“Just so.”
“Well. Thank goodness you came along when you did! What was that?”
“That be a mandrill, madam.”
“Is that the pet we were warned about?”
“No. That would be Tabitha and Khan.”
“And they are?”
“Leopards, madam.”
“Leopards!”
Van der Valk merely nodded.
“They would eat me, I presume?”
“No ma’am, they’re safe. Just don’t give them anything to chase is all.”
“Not even my tail?” I joked, trying to make light of all this.
“Definitely not your tail, Miss Harrow,” Van der Valk grimaced as he led me back down the stairs to the ground.
Blackwood later told me of his own adventures. He had noticed a nice dovecote from the window of the laboratory, and at some point in the afternoon he saw smoke rising from the opening through which the doves or pigeons would enter. “Your dovecote is on fire, sir!” he exclaimed. Chamberlain was distracted with Silas and paid little heed to this potential disaster. “If you could take care of that it would be greatly appreciated,” he muttered, and Blackwood of course obliged.
He excited the house through the northern doors and ventured to an odd, ground level retaining wall toward the rear of the property. There was a lower ditch beyond the wall, with ladders to descend, and the ground then rose again to regular height. Blackwood of course knew what this was: a ha-ha, used in landscaping to keep livestock away from dwellings without blocking the view.
Only there were no livestock. (Perhaps some leopards? Or elephants? I would have warned!)
That didn’t stop Jack. He scrambled down a ladder and made his way to the smoking dovecote.
Outside he found a man pitching branches and hay from the back of a wagon into the double width entry of the circular building. Jack could hear the dulcet tones of an engine running at full capacity, and when he stepped inside he was greeted with a rewarding sight: a beautiful Bolton & Watt static steam engine was chugging happily away, powering a large grinder that was busy pulping the material being tossed within.
The grinder was in rather worse shape than the engine, unsurprising to Jack given the job it was doing. It whined and screeched uncomfortably as it worked, ejecting the results via a conveyer belt above head height that exited the far side of the dovecote.
A second man was inside tending the engine, nodding to Blackwood as he entered, but otherwise not bothered.
Roland & Martin
Jack immediately set about examining the troublesome grinder, seeing the problem quickly: the flywheel was unbalanced and suffering an excess of torque. “We have to fix this,” Jack called to the man over the cacophony. He wandered over and stood by Jack’s side, both men in their element.
“It’s over torquing, sir,” the man observed matter-of-factly.
“That’s exactly right!” Jack exclaimed, impressed. “What’s your name, man? I’m Blackwood.”
“Roland, sir, and that’s Martin.”
“Very good Roland. We need to adjust the flywheel and introduce a mechanism to calm the torque.”
“I tried adding this first rod to counterbalance the second,” Roland pointed, and Jack was again impressed. The man knew what he was about, but it was clear he was an autodidact: he had figured out the problem by using it rather than understanding it. He could see a way to fix the immediate problem but not the solution.
“We can permanently adjust this, we just need the parts,” Blackwood explained after the man slowed the flywheel for safety. “A gearing mechanism to counter the torque requirements should do the job,” he said pointing and showing.
“when it’s empty it idles very high, sir,” the man nodded, confirming Blackwood’s theory.
“What are we grinding here?” Jack asked innocently.
“Scrub and brambles, tree branches and the like from the top paddock. Doctor Chamberlain uses it for his plants,” the man explained.
“Very good, let’s get to work shall we?” Blackwood smiled.
Some time later, when I was sufficiently recovered, I found myself again bored. I recalled Van der Valk had said the leopards—Tabitha and Khan!—were quite safe if left without temptation, and decided, perhaps foolishly, to try and find them.
I had noticed a well tended grove of trees to the west of the property so I ventured outside toward them, noting the house itself had a ditch of some kind surrounding it, akin to a moat that you might find around a castle.
The trees were of various species, and thriving under Chamberlain’s obviously green thumb. I walked very slowly, pausing often to listen for telltale…growls? Roars? I realised I had no idea what sound a leopard might make. Perhaps they purred? I certainly hoped so.
In the centre of the copse I found a large, brine covered pond. I stood some twenty yards away, wary of getting too close. I found a largish stick, clambered up an nearby stone ornament, and tossed it into the pool of stagnant water.
For a moment there was nothing. I was about to turn away when I saw something large was moving below the surface, tracing a lazy s-shape through the tepid dark green water and waterlilies.
Do leopards swim? Underwater?