The Bagington Hall Mystery

by N. C. Lewis

  "What on earth was he doing?"

  "By the looks of it, hunting. He had a bow and quiver of arrows slung across his shoulder. The man better take care. I hear there are rabid foxes in these parts. Strange behaviour for a man of the cloth, if you ask me."

  "Not the vicar! What was Frank Perry doing?"

  Uncle Tristan did not speak for a moment. When he did, it was in a soft whisper. "Maggie, I simply wanted to return his envelope. You should have seen the look on his face when I whipped it out of my cape."

  Chapter 38

  I knew something was wrong when Withers showed up.

  Uncle Tristan and Boots left to search for Sir Sandoe while I waited for the head butler. Withers arrived moments after they left, his tall, dapper figure moving with the grace of a cat. He ambled along the path, swinging his Victorian sword cane about as if he were the lord of the manor.

  To my astonishment, he wore a finely tailored tweed jacket with matching trousers, a white shirt with heavily starched collars, and a brown fedora hat—an almost identical replica of Sir Sandoe's attire. And a better-looking one at that!

  I gazed at the man with undisguised surprise. "Withers?"

  He gave his distinctive little bow. It was him, all right, but the attire was not what one expects from a butler nor was his language.

  "Ah, Miss Darling. Terrible weather we're having. The newspaper says it is just for a day or so, and then we'll be back to the unusually warm sunshine. Now, you are here for an audience with Louisa?"

  "Louisa?"

  "Lady Herriman, to you."

  This was highly unusual; servants were never on first-name terms with their employers. It was a rule adhered to in the solid Edwardian mansions of London and the rural Victorian manors of Norfolk. For a moment, my heart froze. Had Uncle Tristan's prediction of villages overthrowing the landlord come true?

  I gazed about the place looking for signs of an angry mob with pitchforks and blazing torches. But everything appeared to be in order. I mentally sorted through all the other possibilities and drew a blank.

  Perplexed, I said, "What happened to your uniform, the one with the big buttons and white gloves?"

  Withers said, "The black tailcoat, shirt, and waistcoat were appropriate attire as the head butler. Lady Herriman has promoted me to head of the estate. My new position requires the dress and conversational poise of a gentleman."

  I did not fully grasp the meaning of Withers' words, for a moment, then my mouth formed an O as my eyes widened. "Isn't that Sir Sandoe's responsibility?"

  Withers' voice went quiet. "Things have changed now the air has been cleared."

  I wasn’t sure what he meant but took a chance and said, "Since the funeral of Miss Antoinette?"

  "A lovely child but too inquisitive for her own good." Withers shut his eyes. I wondered what the butler saw under those closed lids. When his eyes reopened, they glistened, and he spoke as if to himself. "Sir Sandoe is a heavy burden. It is my duty to relieve Lady Herriman of the load."

  I was still thinking about his words when I remembered his conversation with Vicar Humberstone. Withers had the old chambermaid's room sealed off. But that would have been under orders. The question that ran through my mind was who gave the order?

  My heart beat a mile a minute as I said, "Withers, did Sir Sandoe instruct you to seal off the old chambermaid's quarters?"

  Withers clasped his fingers tight about the sword cane and unclasped them again. "Miss Darling, we shall have no more talk on this issue."

  My eyebrows rose and fell. "Withers, answer the—"

  He raised a hand. "It is Mr Withers or sir, to you, from now on. Is that clear?"

  I stood and stared at the man for a long moment. His hooded eyes stared back. They flashed with an undertone of the rage he'd unleashed on Mrs Mullins during my first visit.

  "Never bring this matter up again." Withers punctuated each word with the sword cane as he spoke. "Erase it from your memory, and let it be."

  When I was younger, I would have backed down, but working in a pie-and-mash shop had removed my fear of difficult people. They were commonplace in London. I had to be careful though. If I pushed him too hard, he might persuade Her Ladyship to cancel Tristan's Hands' contract, or worse, strike out at me with his Victorian sword cane.

  I weighed it all up, took a deep breath, and said, "Mr Withers, do you know who killed Miss Antoinette?"

  "What did I just say?"

  But I couldn’t let Miss Antoinette's murder rest. "As the head butler, you must have seen or heard something. What did you see?"

  Withers raised a hand, palm out. "Chief Inspector Little has closed the investigation."

  "You didn’t answer my question."

  "Nosing about will get you into trouble, might even cost you your contract with Bagington Hall."

  I ignored the threat. "Did you give a statement to the chief inspector?"

  He eyed me as a robin does an undersized worm. "One of your first tasks is to find a replacement head butler. Lady Herriman shall discuss the details with you over dinner. But I insist on having the final word, is that clear?"

  My eyes blinked rapidly. "Y-Y-Yes," I said. "But can you tell me what you know about the death of Miss Antoinette?"

  Withers sighed loudly then ran a finger over his hairline moustache. "Please come with me to the scullery where I shall leave you in the capable hands of Mrs Mullins."

  Uncle had been right, I thought, as I followed a step behind with more questions than answers. Big trouble was brewing at Bagington Hall, and it wasn’t just to do with the agricultural strike.

  Chapter 39

  When Withers left, Mrs Mullins motioned me to join her at the table.

  I wasn’t sure where her niece was, but she wasn’t in the scullery, and that was good because there were a hundred questions I wanted to ask before Dolly Trimmings or anyone else showed up.

  Mrs Mullins reached into a handbag and pulled out an oversized silver flask and took a swig. The air soured with the smell of cheap brandy.

  "Miss Darling, I was just taking a break from me duties. The brandy's medicinal on account of my weak heart, doctor's orders. Nice to sit 'ere, look through the scullery windows, and enjoy a little peace, don't ya think?"

  I nodded, and we sat in silence for a moment staring out the large windows which looked out onto a small yard and brick wall. I would be patient. Sometimes it paid off; sometimes it did not, but I had to know more about what was going on in Bagington Hall.

  After she had taken another swig, I said, "I see Withers has received a promotion."

  "Don't call him that no more. It is 'sir' now, or if you want to get on his good side, call 'im, 'me lord.' Anything else, and the man explodes in a rage."

  I’d seen Withers' vicious temper and knew he was equally spiteful with animals. I remembered the look of disappointment on his face when I insisted on taking Swiftee away from this place. And then there was the string noose and a knife he carried in his jacket pocket. Today he'd tolerated my questions. With his new elevated position, I knew that wouldn’t last long.

  I said, "What on earth is going on at Bagington Hall?"

  "Ain't for me to say. I just work 'ere to help pay my way. I'm a widow, you know. This 'ere job is all I got, and gossiping don't do me no good."

  I tried a different tactic. "Swiftee is doing well in his new home. And he is growing fat."

  A glimmer of a smile touched the corner of her lips. "I'll 'ave to tell our Rose about that."

  "Let her know he caught a mouse."

  "Was it three-legged?"

  We both laughed.

  I said, "Rose can visit whenever she is free. Swiftee would like to see her."

  Mrs Mullins visibly relaxed. "Would you like a slice of seed cake?"

  I nodded.

  She stood up, hurried to a cupboard, and came back with two plates.

  As I tucked in, I knew time was running out. I wanted answers before Dolly Trimmings showed up to whisk me away to
meet with Lady Herriman.

  In the pie-and-mash shop, we often gave away free samples. On those days, we sold out. I tried something similar in the hopes it would open Mrs Mullins' lips.

  "Tristan's Hands are looking for staff," I said in a low voice. "Can I add you to our household list?"

  "Don't Mr Harbottle rent that tiny loft above John and Sons butcher shop?"

  "It is a temporary location."

  Mrs Mullins scowled. "They say Bagington Hall is Mr Harbottle's only account, and I work here as it is."

  "There will be other accounts."

  "When?"

  I changed tack. "Maybe you ought to just tell me what is on your mind."

  Mrs Mullins took a bite of seed cake. After chewing, she said, "Withers has Sir Sandoe and everyone else under his thumb. You'll be next; mark my words."

  I leaned across the table, placed a hand on hers. "I'm listening. What do you know?"

  Mrs Mullins opened her mouth to speak then closed it, withdrew her hands, picked up the plates, and walked over to the kitchen sink. There she washed up and placed the items on a wooden draining rack.

  When Mrs Mullins was finished, she turned and said, "Miss Darling, I'm sorry, but I don't think it would be wise to discuss such things, especially with me being a widow and very much in need of this position."

  I was about to give up when a different question popped into my mind.

  "Tell me about Miss Antoinette?"

  "Now there is another story. Miss Antoinette was such a lovely girl, and she stood up for the servants…" Her voice trailed off.

  We sat in silence. After what must have been a minute, I said, "Well?"

  Mrs Mullins looked around the small scullery as if someone might be hiding in a corner and listening to us. "Since you found her body, I don't suppose it will do no harm for you to know."

  "I'm listening. Start at the beginning and go right through to the end."

  The sound of footsteps came from the hall.

  Mrs Mullins lifted her eyes to mine. "Keep this to yourself."

  The footsteps grew louder. I willed her to hurry but kept my mouth shut.

  Mrs Mullins looked at her hands. "Miss Antoinette planned to run away. She was sweet on a young gentleman. I know because I helped set up their clandestine meetings. They planned to wed and leave for America. Once they'd settled down, she promised to send for me. But Sir Sandoe found out. I wouldn’t have gone anyway."

  This time I said nothing. All I could do was listen.

  Mrs Mullins let out a long sigh. "There is always trouble when a woman wants to marry below her station in life. Miss Antoinette was keen on a union lad not from around these parts. A young fellow by the name of Frank Perry."

  Chapter 40

  "Miss Darling, is it you?"

  Dolly Trimmings stood in the entrance of the scullery. Her wide hippopotamus mouth hung slightly open, and she panted like a mountain pack mule at the end of a steep climb.

  "Oh, Gawd, yes, yes, you are here!"

  She wore an elaborate mauve gown with gold stars and a little, matching bonnet pinned to her blonde hair. It perched like a sparrow's nest on her round, plump face from which her birdlike eyes twitched around the scullery. A necklace of huge pearls hung from her neck, and in her hand, she carried a large goblet.

  "Oh Lordy, Miss Darling, I'm so pleased you are here." Dolly hurried to the kitchen table, put down the goblet, and threw her arms about me. There was a strong pong of plum wine about her person.

  "Lady Herriman has been like a sour toad all day. I knows when she sees you, she'll cheer up. You keeps her gabbing, so she don't get to thinking about how miserable Sir Sandoe makes her life. You 'ave a magic touch with getting people to talk."

  Indeed I do, I thought. And if you'd given me another ten minutes with Mrs Mullins, I'd have the answers to my questions. I wanted to know more about Miss Antoinette's relationship with Frank Perry and Sir Sandoe's reaction.

  But Dolly's arrival had put an end to my enquiries. It was time for dinner with Lady Herriman, and that, I feared, was to be endured rather than enjoyed. The nauseating thought of roast swan with buttered potatoes left me feeling as vinegary as a caged crab. I wondered whether we'd start with calf's head soup and refused to think about what awaited for dessert.

  I glanced at Mrs Mullins. She sat, arms folded, a cold expression on her face. I itched to finish our conversation. How had Sir Sandoe discovered the relationship between Miss Antoinette and Frank Perry? What had the man done about it? Did he order Withers to shutter the old chambermaid's room? What happened to Lady Sandoe? And who did Mrs Mullins think murdered Miss Antoinette?

  Answers to those questions would have to wait. I said, "Mrs Mullins, shall we talk later?"

  "No," she replied with a firm shake of her head. "I've spoken out of turn. There is nothing more I will say on the matter."

  Dolly glared at Mrs Mullins. "Now just what 'ave you be saying to Miss Darling?"

  Mrs Mullins met her gaze with a defiant look. "None of your business."

  "If it is to do with Bagington Hall, it is my business," Dolly snapped. "Things are changing around here, and I have the ear of Her Ladyship."

  "One of these days," began Mrs Mullins in a threatening tone, "Her Ladyship will find out you've been wearing her clothes and drinking her wine, and then you'll be done for."

  "Keep your mouth shut and eyes closed. Now what were you telling Miss Darling about our dearly departed Miss Antoinette?"

  Mrs Mullins said, "How would you know what we was talking about unless you was snooping?"

  "How dare you!" Dolly shrilled.

  Mrs Mullins placed her hands on the arms of her chair. I thought she would get up, but after a brief hesitation, she only said, "Me and Miss Darling was talking private business."

  Dolly turned to face me. "Miss Darling, you shall tell me everything when we are in Lady Herriman's waiting chamber."

  I cleared my throat. "I gave my word to keep Mrs Mullins' confidence."

  Mrs Mullins added, "Like I say, it ain't none of your business."

  "Suit yourself," replied Dolly, her eyes blazing. "When I tell Withers, he'll get it out of you."

  "Black Shuck himself couldn’t get a peep from me lips," said Mrs Mullins, standing up. "Now, if you don't mind, I've got work to do." She walked to the kitchen sink, picked up the plates from the wooden draining rack, wiped them with a dishcloth, and idly gazed through the window.

  A moment later, Mrs Mullins clutched at her chest, tilted her head back, and let out an ear-piercing scream.

  Chapter 41

  Everything slowed for a terrible moment.

  Mrs Mullins let out another chilling shriek and collapsed against the sink, her top half tipping into the large iron bowl. Bewildered, I clambered to my feet, stumbled forward, sucking in air, heart pounding like a tin drum against my chest.

  Before I reached the sink, Dolly yelled, "Heart attack. Mrs Mullins has a weak chest. She's dead!"

  I kept moving forward.

  "Oh my God," yelled Dolly. "Doctor! We need to telephone for Dr Swensen!"

  But we did not need to make the call.

  At the sink, I placed an arm around Mrs Mullins' shoulder. Her head reared up, eyes wide open. Again, she let out a terrifying screech, her entire body shuddering as if bitten by a rabid fox.

  Confused and alarmed, I stepped back fearful Mrs Mullins would soon start foaming at the mouth. But there was no madness in her eyes or uncontrollable twitching of her limbs, only a look of savage fear.

  "Mrs Mullins," I cried. "Is it your heart?"

  In astonishment, I watched as she raised her arm. It moved very slowly as if the muscles were filled with rusted iron. The index finger unfurled from a trembling hand to point to the scullery window.

  I stood there staring, breath ragged as my mind tried to make sense of the image sent to it by my eyes.

  "Dear God!"

  Slumped against the dingy brick wall, a figure lay motionless. My st
omach roiled when I spotted the growing pool of blood glisten in the fading evening light.

  For some seconds, I could neither think nor scream as my eyes took it all in: the tweed jacket, brown fedora at a rakish angle, the polished shoes, and the silver envelope clutched tight in the right fist.

  Dolly was at the sink now. She stared in disbelief at the gruesome scene.

  "Sir Sandoe!" she shrieked. "Dr Swensen! We must telephone for help."

  But there was no need to call for a doctor.

  Sir Richard Sandoe was definitely dead.

  That realisation hit like a blow to the solar plexus, forcing me to gasp for air.

  "Dear God!" cried Mrs Mullins. "Black Shuck is upon us again!"

  A low black shape appeared from the shadows.

  Mrs Mullins let loose another terrified scream. "The beast himself!"

  But it wasn’t a dog. It was a man!

  And he wore heavy black boots; shabby, grey, flannel trousers; a jacket patched at the elbows; and a flat cloth cap. I recognised him instantly—Frank Perry.

  He held a bloodied dagger in his left hand and remained low to the ground as if he were afraid to move.

  When Mrs Mullins let out another scream, he forced himself upright and turned to the window. His eyes caught mine for a brief second. There was confusion, fear, and blind panic in the orbs.

  At that moment, Withers, Boots, and Uncle Tristan arrived.

  Frank backed up a few steps, shock and fear etched into his face.

  "You'll swing for this," said Withers. "Now put your hands in the air, and don't give us any reason to harm you."

  For a moment, Frank stood stock-still, his eyes staring at the body. He dropped the dagger. It clattered to the ground with a metallic thud.

  "That's it," said Withers, pulling a knife from his pocket. "Hands up high where we can see them."

  Frank turned, and with the agility of an acrobat, scrambled over the wall.