“As glorious as ever,” he said, smiling as Mrs. Cotswald entered his office. By his remark he was not being flippant at all. The graceful lady still looked youthfully middle-aged and beautiful. Her full hair was tied in a fancy bun and her suit fitted her well-lined figure perfectly. The only indications of aging were her shoes and her spectacles. More comfortable than her usual heeled shoes and boots, she now wore flatter shoes to accommodate her slight limp, and her contact lenses were replaced by thin-framed glasses.
“Dean Patterson, what a refined, old master you have become! How have you been?” she said kindly, smiling and holding out both hands to capture his.
“I’m well. Thank you, Mrs. Cotswald,” he replied with a smile. “Hideous weather, I’m afraid. But always lovely to see a sunray during a storm.”
“My goodness, Daniel, if you were just a few decades younger,” she played, grateful for his charm. With a kiss to the cheek the two decided to discuss business while Daniel accompanied the college’s prospective buyer through the hallways, although the gardens would be inaccessible under the angry lightning.
Neither of them trusted the ears walls tended to have, especially in the way their last transaction had been thwarted by details the two of them had discussed alone in Daniel’s office. Both parties wanted to avoid that happening again. Their footfalls clapped on the wooden floor that lined the corridor running across the ground floor and over the basement chamber where the archives were kept.
“How’s your mother doing?” she asked. “I remember those dumplings of hers! To die for!” She clasped her hands together as the thunder howled, sounding like a pile of boulders rolling across Hook as they ascended the steps to the first floor.
“She is doing well, thank you. Maybe we’ll run into her here somewhere. She’s always up to something somewhere, like a curious child,” Daniel chuckled. “So, now that we’re together again, Mrs. Cotswald, and know each other a bit better, I’ve been meaning to ask you something for some time,” he cleared his throat. “Why are you so insistent on this particular property. Is it because your husband is a historian and loves the past of this old place?”
His questions were innocent enough, but they had a deeper, serrated blade attached for the receiving end of his curiosity that Daniel had not intended. A little taken aback, Mrs. Cotswald turned to face him on the first floor hallway that ran along the open balcony overlooking the courtyard.
“My God, Daniel!” She exhaled hard, but she kept her voice away from unintended earshot. “Do you think he came home? My husband has been missing since he came to teach here,” she revealed in amazement. “He’s never returned to me. Not even after he was dismissed from St. Vincent’s.”
Daniel frowned as the cool spray pelted the side of his face, but it was not the English weather that left him frozen. “Excuse me? Dr. Cotswald was never dismissed. We assumed that he simply left because of the stress he was under or the personal problems he must have harbored. My God, do you mean to tell me that he is still missing after all this time?”
“Presumed dead,” she said plainly, looking out over the courtyard. Her eyes were fixed upon the old fountain obscured by the dancing tree branches. “Of course, I’m not presuming. I know.”
“You mustn’t think that way, Mrs. Cotswald,” he started, but she soon halted his sympathy to enlighten him.
“Daniel, my husband was killed when he discovered the spring of that fountain,” she grunted with her face near his in order to keep the conversation in tight quarters. “I know this, because he told me on the phone the night before he disappeared. Dittmar’s contract here was only three months in and all had gone well…until he discovered the spring that fountain ran from. Suddenly Dr. Smith insisted he leave and when he would not, she made him an offer of a sum of money to make him leave and terminate his contract. But he refused, asking to complete his contract. The next day…” She shrugged.
“He was just…gone. I thought he’d left overnight,” Daniel confessed. “My God, he never made it home? And you think my wife is involved? Mrs. Cotswald, I’m sorry, but all that over an old fountain? That is a bit absurd, even for my wife.”
“I don’t care about that fountain anymore, Dean Patterson. I did once and so did my husband, but he’s gone and I’m tired. There’s so much about the world you don’t know, my dear. All I want to do now is purchase the place where my husband died, where my daughters grew up, and just live out my days,” she said in a voice far older than the woman it came from. She sounded truly tired.
Daniel looked over to the cottages, wondering who the man was speaking to his mother where she was sitting on Dr. Gould’s porch. “Excuse me for a moment please, Mrs. Cotswald.”
He hastened to the cottages where visiting faculty was hosted. Traversing the courtyard, he passed the suddenly significant stone antique. Even with the holey canopy of the overreaching trees the rain came pouring down on him, rendering his feet unsteady upon the rocky and uneven pathway.
“Mum!” he called out ahead to get her attention, and to get a good look at the man with her. Mrs. Patterson and the man turned to face him just as he made it onto the lawn just short of Nina’s porch. Daniel stopped in his tracks and started walking casually up the stairs when he recognized the man. “David Purdue?”
“Yes, he is here to visit Dr. Gould, but he wants to surprise her, so better not tell her until she sees him here,” Mrs. Patterson smiled.
“Oh, well, welcome to our humble academy, Mr. Purdue,” Daniel wheezed. “Mr. Purdue is one of St. Vincent’s biggest contributors, mother. Kept us afloat even in the skinny years.”
“You’re welcome, Dean Patterson. I trust things are going swimmingly for you and the faculty?” Purdue asked cordially. To his side he could hear Mrs. Patterson snigger, but decided to ignore it.
“Very well, yes, thank you,” Daniel said, smiling and shaking Purdue’s hand. “I had no idea you knew Dr. Gould. Small world.”
“Smaller than you think,” his mother said loud enough to herself to make sure they overheard.
Purdue chuckled. “I thought that was why you invited her to teach here, because of her affiliation with me?”
“No, my wife is responsible for inviting Dr. Gould. Dr. Christa Smith, department head,” he said proudly.
“Can’t say I’ve heard of her,” Purdue said thoughtfully, “but that doesn’t mean anything. Just because I move in academic circles doesn’t mean that I know everyone.”
“Who’s that up there? My eyes are not what they used to be,” Mrs. Patterson asked, shielding her eyes with her hand and looking up at the balcony.
“Oh, shit! I forgot about Mrs. Cotswald!” he exclaimed. “Please excuse me, Mr. Purdue. I have to conclude my business.”
“Certainly,” Purdue replied, and watched the Dean run back into the rain again.
“Feisty and zealous, that man,” Purdue remarked to Mrs. Patterson. “Does he take after his mother, then?”
Mrs. Patterson laughed, “I hope so. My side of the family has always been very young at heart…and not too clumsy in age either.”
Mrs. Cotswald paced across the wet corridor as she waited for Dean Patterson to return, thanking her lucky stars that she’d invested in shoes that did not torture her ankles. Elated to hear some movement downstairs, she descended to the ground floor where the landing continued on into another landing that led to a level below. Intrigued, Mrs. Cotswald peeked over the wrought iron balustrade, but was disappointed to see that the stairs dropped into a closed trapdoor.
A yelp of fear escaped her at the sight of the dead-end stairs that no doubt led down to some sort of dungeon or torture room, the product of her abusive history along with her creative imagination. Looking around her, she found that nobody was present and her curiosity beckoned.