"The Forest Secret" - Chapter 13

Charley opened her eyes to the strange sensation of the train emerging from the tunnel on the English side of the Channel.  She touched Stephanie with her foot to wake her up.  

“I can’t believe this; we’re here already,” her friend replied.

Things on the English side were nothing like what they had experienced only an hour before.  In France there was sunshine, but here the rain was teeming down and running in rivulets across the outside of the window as the Eurostar began the timed process of slowing down.

“Another 15 minutes or so,” Stephanie announced.  “And we have a decision to make.”

“How to get to Canterbury?” Charley offered.

“That part’s easy. But we need to figure out when you want to go. We could spend the night in London or switch stations when we arrive and head to Canterbury by a train slower than this one and get there probably around dinner.”

Charley had been to London before  and preferred to press on to their final location.  Eager to pursue her research, she wanted to discover whatever happened to Mary Weatherby.  Denis was going to do some work on that for her while they were on the Eurostar and she would learn shortly what he had discovered.

St. Pancras was the London station that served as the end of the high speed adventure.  Roughly similar to the Paris station they had only left a couple of hours previous, St. Pancras was extra full, as people dashed in for protection from the rain.  Through the window she spotted corridors jammed with buses and taxis of all kinds.

“Let’s grab some place to eat in here and we can get in touch with Denise and learn what he found? That okay?” Stephanie nodded in agreement with her friend’s suggestion and rose as the train descended to a stop.

It was Business Class, so they were out prior to others disembarking and managed to beat the crowd and grab a table at a deli shop. Stephanie ordered while Charley punched the number into her cell phone for the research office in Paris, gratified to hear the  voice of Denis answer on the first ring on the other end.

“I bet you barely had time to talk,” he said.

“Never been on anything like it, Denis.  It definitely makes for easy transport on the continent, I’m sure.”

He spoke of when he first rode the Eurostar and how it was like a whole new world, then cleared his throat, and asked, “So, are you heading to Canterbury tonight?”

“Yes, that’s the plan,” she answered.

“Good.  I’ve already made you a reservation at the Duke William on Ickham Street and sent the info to your inbox.  It looks old fashioned, but it’s also near to where you’re going to need to go.”

“Which is where exactly?”

“Well, the family had a historic estate on the grounds of Christ Church University, which they deeded to the university trust but which permits the family to live there.  It’s a bit complicated, but the estate has been in the family name since 1785, so it’s somewhat special.”

The next question was the obvious one.  “How do we make contact with the Weatherby family, or the estate?” Charley asked.

Denis sighed. “That’s proving difficult - they’re rather standoffish.  But I did discover that Mary died a few years ago.”

Charley felt as if the world had just deflated.  She had hoped that Mary would still be alive.  It would have been the easiest way to unfold more about Aramis and the cathedral, since she would likely know more than anyone.  

And there was more. As a journalist, she had grown intrigued by the affluent young English girl with the blonde bobbed hair and the ability to capture someone as deep and intelligent as Caron.  She was likely a great study in character in her own right and would have fit well into the overall story of the man and his cathedral. Now that aspect of her story was no longer available to her.

“It’s difficult news, I know Charley, and I’m sorry to be the bearer of it.  I think all of us were hoping that Mary would be all we had hoped. However, I did discover that a woman still occupies the manor.  Apparently she is a recluse and rarely steps out.  And it looks like the estate will go to the university with her passing, as no other heirs live there.”

“She could be the sister?” noted Charley.

“Yes, I was thinking that as well, but we have no way of knowing.  Only a direct visit will tell the tale.”

“We’ll head there tomorrow, but first Duke William,” she said.

“Doesn’t sound like good news?” Stephanie said with an inquisitive stare.

Charley then unfolded all that Denis had discovered and her disappointment at the news of the loss of Mary to the story.  Stephanie, too, felt despondent.

They dug into their toasted tomato and cheese sandwiches and discussed next steps.  

“We can’t get a train to Canterbury from this main terminus, but we can taxi over to another station and go from there.”

Just as she said it, Charley watched the rows of buses coming and going, either emptying passengers into the station or leaving mostly full.  She noted that one vehicle said “Maidstone and Canterbury” and pointed it out to her friend.

“Let’s take the bus, shall we?  We can do a bit of sightseeing and we don’t have to head to another station for the train.”

Stephanie nodded and quickly moved to the ticket counter, returning with two one-way tickets.  “It leaves in 15 minutes, after the next Eurostar arrives.  We’ve got time to finish our lunch and get onto the bus before the rest descend on this place.  It’s only about 70 miles, but still takes a couple of hours.”

Charley chuckled. “That’s about the same amount of time as it took us to get from Paris to here.  Still, the scenery should be nice.”

She had made the comment while inside the terminal but soon regretted it as soon as the bus began working its way out of London towards the M2.  The rain was perhaps even heavier than before and the clouds were dreary enough that it looked as though they would never end.

The bus was only half full and Stephanie had let Charley have the window seat.  Both were sombre but it wasn’t due to the inclement weather. The loss of Mary to the story came as a severe blow.  Who else would have the information as to why Aramis went into the fire?  None of the other guides were aware and nothing in the journals had yet been uncovered.  Those journals were now all they had left to find a motive for Caron’s final climbing of the stairs.  The chance that the trail was running cold was making itself felt.

Despite the downpour, the carriageway between London and Canterbury was busy and the noise of vehicle tires on the wet pavement at times was deafening.  What normally would have been quaint Kent villages were inundated with water and also difficult to see through the wet windows of the bus. Both women remained quiet, lost in their own thoughts and sadness over what Denis had discovered.

Normally they would have walked from the bus station to the Duke William hotel but the rain made that impossible, so they took an old British taxi that deposited them on the narrow street in front of what looked like a building that had been there for 100 years.  Charley caught a quick glance at the St. John the Evangelist Church across the street, with its peaked roof and spire rising into the gloom above before ducking her head through the doorway and approaching the front desk.

It was getting close to the dinner hour, so they decided to tour the hotel once they had unpacked their clothes and toiletries.  Their room was on the second floor, far away from the bar on street level which the manager told them could get a bit noisy in the evenings.

Despite the rain outside, the hotel brightened their mood somewhat, with its lower timber ceilings, wood burning fire,  candles burning in old ceramic beer bottles, and mismatched wooden tables and chairs spread throughout the main floor.

They opted to grab a drink at the bar and talk about next steps.  While Charley nursed her Bailey’s coffee, Stephanie went back to the front desk to ask about the Weatherby estate and how to make contact with it.  When she returned, the news she shared wasn’t helpful.

“He says the estate has never been open to the public and that even the university has to attain permission to visit the house.  An elderly lady lives in the house, along with a gardener and a woman who helps with the domestic duties, but she rarely comes into town, except to attend special services at the great Cathedral down the road here.”

Charley chided herself for forgetting that one of England’s great religious icons was constructed in Canterbury.  “Did he have any idea about how we make contact with the woman?”

“He didn’t.  There were two women that used to live there apparently, but one, Mary, I suspect, died a few years ago and the remaining occupant sticks largely to herself.  All he could suggest would be that we just knock on the door and hope for the best.”

Charley looked around the bar, the surreal paintings, fur throws, red plastic bar stools and the dated filament light bulbs strung on a red cord, and felt more despondent than she wished to be.

“Well, then, that’s just what we’ll do.  Let’s talk to Denis first thing in the morning to see if he’s come up with anything and then journey out to the estate.  At the worst, she just won’t answer the door.”  The way things had been going, both Stephanie and Charlie felt that “the worst” would likely continue on into the morning.