The Bagington Hall Mystery

by N. C. Lewis

  "Oh, I do so enjoy our little audiences," she crowed, placing a thin, spindly hand on the Bible. "The Lord delivers justice in his own time. There is no escape from the might of his hand."

  "Still," I said, choosing my words with care, "Sir Sandoe's demise must have come as a terrible shock."

  The thin lips tugged upward, creasing the powdered cheeks. "Nothing less than the wretched man deserved." In an exaggerated movement, she reached for her lorgnette spectacles, placed them to her eyes, and gazed down at the floor. "And I suspect it is rather hot where he is. The funeral is on Wednesday. You'll attend?"

  I'd had my fill of funerals but said, "Of course, I will be there to pay my respects."

  Lady Herriman placed the lorgnette spectacles on the side table and took a sip from the goblet. Her thin lips smacked together as if the taste was especially gratifying. "I will lay Sir Sandoe to rest in a paupers' plot, an unmarked grave."

  I could hardly believe my ears. Dolly was right! I sat very still, eager to know more, my lips pressed tight shut.

  "The man was not from the Bagington lineage," said Lady Herriman. "An interloper from Surrey! His sinful corpse shall not rest for eternity in the Bagington Hall family plot. I made that clear to the vicar."

  "I see," I murmured, wondering if perhaps there was not another reason. One related to the death of Miss Antoinette and the disappearance of Lady Sandoe. I took a deep breath and said, "Did Sir Sandoe offer any explanation for the disappearance of Lady Sandoe?"

  I stared at her, apprehension rippling through me like a wave on the beach.

  Lady Herriman got up and threw down the Bible onto the side table. Her lorgnette spectacles danced in a little circle.

  "I hope, dear child, you are not trying to play the role of a detective. That belongs to men and those employed in the local constabulary. Snooping around is one of the many faults of Dolly Trimmings. That and her drinking, and her tittle-tattle. Are you a snoop, Miss Darling?"

  "Oh no, Lady Herriman," I said humbly. "Only curious about the workings of the household. Such information helps Tristan's Hands find suitable workers."

  "Then you'll need to understand that Sir Sandoe was not well liked by the staff. Nor did I ever take to the horrid little man. Neither did Miss Antoinette." Lady Herriman's voice became shrill. "The only person who saw a flicker of something in his wretched soul was Lady Sandoe and then only until she found out he was a sponge. If I'd had the strength of a man, I'd have taken the horsewhip to him!"

  Stunned at her outburst, I changed the subject. "A property of this size requires a large staff. Will you need additional workers?"

  Lady Herriman lowered herself onto the throne, glanced towards the door as if she were expecting someone, and said, "Let us discuss that later. There is a rather important matter that has come to my attention." She paused and fixed me with a sharp eye. "A bank cheque found on Sir Sandoe's writing bureau."

  I shifted in my seat.

  Lady Herriman continued, "Drawn on his personal bank account in Norwich and made out to Mr Harbottle." She reached down for the Bible, flipped it open, and retrieved a long ornate slip of paper.

  Sit still, I told myself. Remain perfectly still and don't say a word. She'll give it to you if you just don't speak. I held my breath and prayed.

  "Please give this to your uncle," said Lady Herriman, waving the bank cheque like a Chinese fan.

  I darted forward, grasped it from her hand, then embarrassed, uttered, "Thank you."

  "Oh, the eagerness of youth!" Lady Herriman let out an amused chuckle. "Mr Harbottle shall frame it—"

  "As you wish," I interrupted, ready for dinner to be over.

  "And place it on his office wall as a permanent remembrance. And I hope every day when he comes into the office, he pauses and reflects on his foolishness."

  "Eh?"

  "Certain rumours have been swirling around Bagington Hall," said Lady Herriman. "Unfounded rumours, which, I regret to say, have their source in Sir Sandoe."

  I said nothing as a sense of foreboding tiptoed along my spine.

  Lady Herriman straightened her shoulders, and with a superior tilt of the head said, "Miss Darling, I hope that worthless bank cheque will remind your uncle to henceforth avoid idle speculation."

  "Worthless?"

  "Sir Sandoe poured his gold investors' money into the gaming table, the horse track, and the greyhound races. Neither of his betting ventures, I might add, met with any measure of success. His bankers visited this morning. I made it crystal clear that the Bagington Hall estate will not stand behind any of his enormous gambling losses."

  Chapter 49

  "Miss Darling, I am to remarry," announced Lady Herriman in a birdlike chirp.

  My concentration was focused on the bank cheque, the non-existent gold mines, and Sir Sandoe's gambling debts. I gazed at the ornate slip of worthless paper in a dazed wonder and was only vaguely aware of Lady Herriman standing to her feet.

  "You may congratulate me now," she said.

  Still, my mind was elsewhere. The loss of Uncle Tristan's life savings would kill him. Or, at least, he would make so much noise, others might think he was under savage attack. And then there was Father's losses—at his age, everything gone! I could scarcely think about that. With no money, there was no choice for me but to remain in Cromer until I was able to raise enough to return to London.

  Oh bother!

  On the edge of blind panic, my mind raced. There were no jobs in this tiny village, and the agricultural strike made matters worse—no one was hiring until things settled down. How would I pay the rent? I wondered if there was room for two in Uncle's shed in the vegetable patch and if Mrs Banbury would complain.

  But as bad as it was, things were not totally hopeless. There was still one trick up my sleeve. I said, "Advanced payment for Tristan's Hand's services, why don’t you write the cheque now?"

  "Dear child, have you been listening?"

  "Sorry, Lady Herriman. It is just we need to discuss business."

  "That is what I've been attempting to do." She sighed, straightened the tiara, and said, "The young are so easily distracted; the mind flits from thing to thing like a butterfly. Now are you going to congratulate me?"

  "Indeed," I said, still thinking how to break the news to Uncle Tristan. "For what?"

  "The wedding."

  "Wedding…. married… to whom?" This was too much; I couldn’t think clearly.

  Lady Herriman placed her lorgnette spectacles to her face and studied me for a few moments. Then she took a sip from the goblet. "It is to be Thursday, in Norwich, the day after we lay Sir Sandoe to rest. Twenty-four hours between grave and altar seems a suitable period, whatever Vicar Humberstone's protestations." She left the sentence hanging, raised a finger, and pointed at the arm of the settee. "Now, child, why don't you slip into that chambermaid's outfit. You can't serve dinner dressed like that."

  I gasped as if the contents of her goblet had been thrown over me. "Pardon?"

  "Take the dress, apron, and cap, and return when you are suitably attired." Lady Herriman spoke in a sharp tone as one might to an errant dog. "There is a small closet along the hall."

  I stared, eyes wide, blinking.

  "There will be a period of training, but you are an intelligent child. Oh, we shall enjoy our little audiences together just before supper every evening. And you shall sing from my little Victorian hymnal, just like Miss Antoinette used to."

  Chapter 50

  "After the meal," Lady Herriman said, "I shall be in a better position to assess your ability and discuss my expectations."

  I sat very still, mouth agape, shocked and bewildered, eyes bugging at Lady Herriman on her throne with that tremendous white wig and diamond tiara.

  As I remained motionless, I thought I heard a commotion in the passage outside.

  "Now hurry along and get changed," snapped Lady Herriman. "And you shall regale us with a song after dessert."

  Suddenly it all became clear.
Lady Herriman wanted me to serve as her chambermaid, and as part of the deal, I must sing for my supper!

  With a growing sense of distress, I thought about Uncle Tristan. He had urged me to bring home the bacon. I gulped. Not only was there no bacon, but if Lady Herriman heard my singing voice, I wouldn’t even get any supper. My stomach growled.

  Oh bother!

  With steely determination, I pushed everything from my mind: the gold, the bank cheque, the death of Miss Antoinette, the bloody slaying of Sir Sandoe, and Lady Herriman's insane babbling about a wedding.

  Mind cleared, I began to think quickly. But the first vivid realisation was almost crushing. Uncle Tristan was penniless. Father's savings gone, and I was without employment and in need of money to escape Cromer.

  An angry shout from the passageway followed loud thwacks. As the dull thud repeatedly sounded, the answer to my immediate problem formed shape—Tristan's Hands!

  I stepped forward. "Lady Herriman, I am not here to work as a servant but to supply your household with staff. Now, if you require a personal chambermaid, Tristan's Hands can help."

  "Dear child," began Lady Herriman in a sour tone, "I hardly see the difference. After all, it is I who pay, and so it is I who choose. And I choose you as a chambermaid. Now get changed, it is almost time for dinner."

  There was an authoritative knock on the door.

  I let out a breath, thankful for the interruption. It would give me time to think. There was a solution, and I knew I would find it.

  I closed my eyes for an instant. You can do this, Maggie, I told myself. You can sell Lady Herriman on Tristan's Hands and will leave Bagington Hall with a big fat bank cheque.

  My eyes opened.

  I was determined.

  I was ready.

  "Come," called Lady Herriman, rising to her feet. Her voice was high pitched and feminine.

  I looked on with undisguised astonishment as Withers strode into the room. He wore a high-end, pinstriped, three-piece suit. Under his arm, he carried a horsewhip.

  The former butler hesitated for a moment as if his eyes required time to adjust to the dim light. Then as Lady Herriman stood, left arm outstretched, he scurried across the room, took her withered hand, and planted a kiss on the back of it.

  "Louisa, a spot of bother in the passageway," Withers said, straightening up. "Dolly Trimmings was snooping about. The thieving toad had her ear against the door. Full of plum wine again! Well, I gave her a good talking to followed by the horsewhip. Nothing to worry your pretty mind over."

  "Oh, darling, that is so masterful," crooned Lady Herriman, her eyes dancing with delight. "I should have taken the whip to her years ago. Look, her replacement is here to serve us dinner."

  Withers turned, and for the first time learned of my presence. He ran a finger over his thin hairline moustache. "Oh, how delightful. Maggie, isn’t it?"

  The sleazy man bloody well knew who I was. "Miss Darling, to you," I said with an air of hostility.

  "Ah, yes, Miss Darling." Withers rolled my name around his mouth as if tasting a fine wine. "From Mr Harbottle's staffing agency?"

  Infuriated at the man's arrogance, I got straight to the point. "I'm here to discuss the staffing needs of Bagington Hall. Lady Herriman needs a chambermaid, and I—"

  Withers raised a hand. "Tell Mr Harbottle we have no use for Tristan's Hands and will no longer require his services."

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. I gasped for air, eyes bulging, throat too dry to speak.

  "That is the other item of business we were to discuss," added Lady Herriman. "But there is no more to be said on the matter, so let us move on."

  It was all over for Uncle Tristan's staffing business. Ahead lay a miserable life for Uncle eking out a living as a poet in a shed at the bottom of a garden next to the vegetable patch. And I'd have to return to London with empty pockets.

  I could not let that happen.

  I stood and said, "Now listen here—"

  But Withers ignored my words and turned to face Lady Herriman. "Take a seat, my love," he said in a soft voice. "A lady of your fine breeding must be comfortable at all times."

  Lady Herriman began to sit, caught sight of her own reflection in a tall mirror above one of the gilt-legged console tables against the wall, and remained on her feet. "Do you think this gown ages me?"

  "Oh, no," replied Withers. "Mauve is rather fetching in this light, reminds one of plums under a harvest moon."

  Lady Herriman turned to face the mirror and surveyed herself. She lowered her eyelids and drew her thin lips into a pout. With the tips of her heavily jewelled fingers, she delicately touched her powdered, hollowed cheeks. "I thought about adding pearls, but they are best left in the depths of the sea rather than slung with garish vulgarity around the neck, don't you think?"

  "Indeed, indeed," replied Withers.

  "But, perhaps," began Lady Herriman, " I shall pack one or two pearl necklaces for our tour of Europe. They seem much less vulgar on the continent." She leaned forward, her spine straightening. "And I shall wear pearls on our wedding night!"

  "Ah yes… the wedding… night," echoed Withers.

  If I hadn’t been paying attention, I would have missed it. An almost imperceptible shudder. It began with a slight tremble of his shoulders and slithered like a snake along his spine. When the tremor reached his legs, they shook, and his feet shuffled back and forth like a clog dancer.

  "Dr Swensen suggests travel," Withers said. "No farther than Norwich… until your heart strengthens. No excitement, none whatsoever. It's the doctor's orders. Have you an ample supply of sleeping pills?"

  "Hang Dr Swensen!" Lady Herriman eased herself onto the throne. "Together, we shall enjoy Paris and visit Monsieur Bonhomme's exquisite jewellery studio off the Champs-Élysées. Then Rome and Madrid. A grand tour of Europe. Our days shall be filled with finery and our nights with passion. And Miss Darling shall come with us."

  "As you wish." Withers, hand shaking, slipped a pendant from his pocket. It swayed back and forth. "But let us… follow the pendant… make our plans… feeling sleepy now… after the wedding… fast asleep."

  Lady Herriman's eyelids drooped. "As you wish," she said, her head lolling to one side. "As you…"

  "Louisa?" Withers whispered. "Are you awake?"

  Nothing.

  Withers spun around.

  "Sit!" he commanded.

  Shocked, I sat, my left hand rested on the chambermaid's dress, white apron, and cap. My heart raced as anger pulsed through my veins.

  When I was calm enough to think clearly, I said, "What on earth do you mean by hypnotising Her Ladyship into marriage?"

  Several seconds of silence passed before Withers spoke. "From now on," he began in a deep voice, "I shall refer to you as Maggie, and I am to be referred to as His Lordship. Is that clear?"

  "Answer my question," I said, voice shrill.

  He crossed the carpet to the heavily draped window and pulled back the curtain to peer out through a chink.

  Light flooded the room.

  He spoke without turning. "Soon, I shall be Lord of Bagington Hall. Lady Herriman requires another chambermaid, and you are to be it. As for Dolly Trimmings, she has served her purpose and will leave at first light on Monday. Might even give her another horsewhipping to send her on her way."

  "You blaggard!" I snapped.

  Withers let the curtain drop. Gloom descended over the room. He turned around, legs planted wide, arms behind his back.

  "Until then, she is to live outside the main house in the stable loft." He paused, ran a finger over his hairline moustache, and smiled. "Maggie, you are to tell Dolly the news. Then you shall return to serve dinner."

  Suddenly my mouth became dry. "Now just you wait—"

  "Eighty-five shillings a week as Lady Herriman's chambermaid." Withers reached into his top pocket, pulled out a watch, and looked up. "You have sixty seconds to accept."

  Eighty-five shillings a week! That would
be enough to pay the rent, send money to Father, and save too. It would allow Uncle Tristan time to rebuild his business.

  "I'm sure," said Withers, reaching into another pocket and pulling out the pendant, "you will be a loyal replacement for Dolly and an accepting student of my teachings."

  My eyes moved back and forth, watching the little metallic disc as it swung from left to right.

  "A very faithful replacement…" he continued in a restful voice, "and compliant of all my instructions…"

  Withers' words sunk in and rolled around my mind as I thought of all that had happened. In a matter of hours, everything had crumbled—Uncle Tristan's investments, Father's savings, Nancy's future. The chambermaid job offered an easy solution. With eighty-five shillings a week, I could begin to remake my life.

  "Accept the offer, and all will be well. Take the work and live a peaceful life…" Withers continued to speak in a low, soothing voice. The pendant swung back and forth. "Soon you will have the money to build a better future."

  I let my eyelids droop.

  "Yes." I could use the job to clamber back onto my feet, save a little money, and over time, things would improve.

  It was then I remembered what Mr Pritchard had said the day I started behind the counter in his pie-and-mash shop." I shall pay you above the going rate, and soon you will have the money to build a better future."

  Then came the subtle hints about feeling lonely despite his long-suffering wife and seven children. Next came the accidental touches, and when that did not ignite my interest, the outright piggish demands that I become his sweetheart.

  I opened my eyes and stood.

  With a casual voice, devoid of the emotions churning around in my stomach, I said, "It is kind you think so highly of me and that you wish me to serve in this household at such an elevated position." I took a deep breath. "But I cannot accept your offer. I am clerk to Mr Harbottle and intend to remain so. Tristan's Hands does not permit our staff to be hypnotised, beaten, or otherwise abused by their employers. We shall seek alternative clients."

  "Such a pity," Withers said with a sigh, placing the pendant back into his pocket. "I was rather looking forward to availing myself of your personal services."