Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall

by Luccia Gray

  “Why not? I tell you I done it!”

  “I presume it would take a much larger quantity of laudanum to kill a man. Tell me what happened after dinner last night, from the time he retired to his room to the moment you found him lifeless.”

  “After the meal, they all moved to the drawing room, as usual. Mr. Mason almost fainted. He said he felt ill and retired. Mrs. Mason offered to call young Dr. Carter, but he said he had eaten and drunk too much, and that there was no need to fetch the doctor. I was glad no one insisted, because I would have had to go and get him, and it was late, and deathly cold, and raining. Shortly after, Mrs. Mason left, saying she was tired. I watched her go upstairs and into Mr. Mason’s room, so he must have been alive then. I was surprised ’cos she never went into his room, so I waited, in case she needed me, but she didn’t stay long, and then she walked up the next flight to her room.

  “The next person to leave was Miss Mason, but Master John followed her out. Miss Mason asked for her cloak and they went out for a walk. I saw them chatting, well, it was more like arguing. While they were outside, Adele went upstairs and Mr. Greenwood and Dante stayed in the drawing room, arguing too. Then Master John came back to the drawing room and had some more brandy with the other two, who stopped arguing.

  “A few minutes later, young Mr. Greenwood left, but he didn’t go up to his room. I saw him go downstairs. Beth told me he sat in the kitchen with Susan and they chatted for a long time. Then I saw him go up to his room, but his father and Master John were still drinking in the drawing room. Then they told me I could retire, and that’s when I went upstairs to see if Mr. Mason needed anything.”

  He stopped. “Wait a minute. I saw someone else coming out of his room before I went in.”

  “Who, Simon?”

  “Jenny. She was carrying something under ‘er arm.”

  “Then what happened, Simon?”

  “Then I went into the room and he was dead.”

  “We need to go back to Eyre Hall, Simon. You must tell Mrs. Mason you came to visit a sick relative. You will have to invent a good excuse.”

  “The only person I know in London is my Uncle Pete who works at the Savoy Hotel, at least that’s where he used to work.”

  “Then we must go and see him, in case they check out your alibi. We will visit him before we take the train back to York. Do not worry. There is no proof that Mason was poisoned or that you had anything to do with it. We must return and act perfectly normal. You left him in his rooms and he was feeling sick but alive. That must be your story.”

  “Michael, you are so clever, but what if they find out it was me? I’ll be ‘anged”

  “Nobody will find out. One more thing, Simon. If anyone asks you, do not even mention that Mrs. Mason entered Mr. Mason’s bedroom. You saw her go straight up to her room.”

  Although I was sure she had had nothing to do with his death, I knew the police might not agree.

  “Michael, Mrs. Mason is a widow again. It’s a good thing you was in London yesterday; you’ve got the biggest motive. We’ve all seen you challenge Mr. Mason, and we all know you were the mistress’s pet, not hard to put two and two together, is it?”

  “In any case, Simon, he may well have died of natural causes. In fact, if there is no evidence to the contrary, that is what everyone will believe.”

  I paid my bill and we left the inn and walked across the river to the Savoy Hotel. Then I stopped at a jeweller’s for some presents for Nell and Jane, and persuaded Simon to buy Beth a present, too.

  Simon shrugged and threw his hands in the air. “Ain’t got no money for presents.”

  I told him I would lend him some money for a small token.

  “You’ll have plenty of money soon, won’t you, now that Mr. Mason’s dead and…”

  I grabbed him by his coat collar and pushed him against the wall. “Don’t ever say that again. I am lending you my money. Money I have earned risking my life at sea for six months. Do you hear me?”

  Simon covered his face with his hands and apologised profusely, insisting that he had meant no offence, and I knew he was being truthful. I removed my hands from his coat.

  “I am sorry, Simon, but do not ever even insinuate that I am with Mrs. Mason for her money. Do you understand?” He nodded.

  I did not want to be regarded as her amusement. I loved Jane and I hoped I would one day be able to make her my wife, but I was not yet ready for the scrutiny of my peers or hers.

  ***

  Chapter XVI – Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall

  The morning after Twelfth Night, Eyre Hall woke up to an alarming blizzard. I had risen and was looking out to the vast whiteness where no shape, human, animal or natural, could be discerned due to the snowy curtain pouring down. I pitied anyone who would have to leave the house in such weather.

  I turned my thoughts to Michael, in London. No doubt the weather, as always, was kinder there. I wondered if he had found Helen and how soon he would return. He had said by Twelfth Night, so I was looking forward to his arrival shortly. The snow might slow down his journey, but it was a small impediment for such a tenacious person. I wondered wistfully as Nell helped me dress, if we could ever be together as any couple who are in love, but we were not any couple. There were so many obstacles in our way, although now, more than ever, I was sure our future was entwined, and we would find a way to overcome all the complications.

  I was shaken by cries coming from Mr. Mason’s room. Seconds later Annette rushed in tearfully saying that her uncle had died. The rest was a succession of the events we had experienced when Edward died. Mr. Storm, the undertaker, arrived with the mutes and his notebook. Fred helped Beth wash the corpse, cover all the mirrors in the hall, open the window in his room, and put ice under the bed, as Simon had been called away last night. Leah and Cook were run down with the food preparations and Daisy and Christy were arranging the drawing room. Soon some extra staff from the inn would be arriving, and the house would be milling with family, friends, neighbours, and acquaintances.

  Mr. Woods had been instructed to ring the bells, and the mourners would soon be flooding in to eat, drink, and pay their last respects to a man many of them did not know, for he had barely spent thirty days at Eyre Hall since we had married fourteen months earlier.

  Dr. Carter arrived hours later, due to the weather, and certified death by natural causes, probably apoplexy, due to the suddenness, his age, and the fact that he had been drinking and eating copiously on the previous days. He assured us that he had not suffered, and that it could not have been avoided.

  I was not pleased that Richard had died, but neither was I sad. I was sure that nobody at Eyre Hall would miss him. He was selfish and bad tempered, and he had not made my life or anyone else’s pleasant. However, I did not feel comfortable pretending I was affected, so I let the others take over with the funeral preparations.

  John and Adele assisted Annette, who was naturally upset, having lost her only living relative, although they were by no means close. Richard had been only too pleased to send her to Belgium for a year after Edward died. He had visited Eyre Hall briefly for our marriage, and he had seemed to ignore her during his present visit at Eyre Hall, disappointed at her refusal to have a London Season and find a wealthy husband as all the other well–to–do young ladies did.

  We all paid our respects to his corpse once the undertakers had made the room as respectable as possible, although the stench was almost unbearable. Nobody approached the ashen body. We all stood with kerchiefs and salts to our noses while Mr. Woods said some words of consolation, as Archbishop Templar could not travel in such weather. My cousins would also be spared the long trip for the same reason.

  In the evening, Dr. Carter came to see me, worried about my health. I told him I was naturally upset by the suddenness of events, but that I was well, only needing to be alone, away from the bustle of constant visitors. He was kind and understanding, as always.

  I mused on how very different he was to his squ
at and disagreeable father. He was such a tall, strong man, with broad shoulders, curly reddish–brown hair, and a warm smile. I could imagine how his patients must feel at ease listening to his diagnoses and advice.

  “Mrs. Mason, I am afraid I have some disturbing information I must discuss with you.”

  “More bad news, Doctor?”

  “I am afraid so, and it cannot wait.”

  I nodded in agreement and waved to an armchair. “Please sit down, Doctor.”

  “Mrs. Mason, there is no doubt in my mind that Mr. Mason has been poisoned.”

  I felt my chest tighten as I registered his unwelcome sentence. His words had rendered me speechless. I sighed, wondering where this shocking turn of events would lead us. The scandal, the investigation, the attention would be devastating for all of us.

  He watched me in silence as I composed myself and managed to speak. “Poisoned? Are you certain?”

  “Without a doubt, madam.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I first suspected it yesterday when I arrived; although he had been washed and the room cleaned, the strong smell of vomit and diarrhoea persisted. A natural cause, such as a heart attack or an apoplexy would have been quick and clean; I mean the bodily fluids would not have been so disagreeable.”

  “But you cannot be absolutely sure?”

  “I am afraid I can, madam. I carried out a Reinsch test for arsenic.”

  “A test for arsenic? How was it possible?”

  “When I examined his corpse, I asked to be left alone and I proceeded to extract part of his stomach. I removed it to my surgery to carry out the test, which proved positive for arsenic, without a doubt.”

  I felt an unpleasant pulsation in my head and instinctively took my hands to my temples. “How could it have happened?”

  “He could have been poisoned gradually, or it could have been one massive dose. Had he been feeling unwell recently?”

  “Let me think. Although he retired to his room soon after dinner every day since his return, he did not complain of any ailments, except for the night before he died. He had been prone to excessive consumption of wine and brandy regularly, so I imagined it was indigestion. He seemed to be well when he first arrived from Jamaica.”

  “Then, as I thought, it was most probably one massive dose administered the evening before he died.”

  “It would cause a great scandal if this information were to be disclosed, Dr. Carter, and you have already signed the death certificate as death by natural causes. Why are you telling me this now?”

  I wondered if he was planning to blackmail me. How could I have trusted him? Perhaps he was like his father after all.

  “I am afraid you have a more serious problem then the scandal that might ensue, Mrs. Mason.”

  He was going to do it now. He was going to ask me for money for his silence and I would have to agree, and he would have me in his clutches for the rest of my life. I had thought I was reaching the surface, but I had been digging my hole even deeper. I sighed dismally. “I do? What is my problem, Doctor, and how am I to solve it?”

  “Mrs. Mason, you are in danger. There is a murderer at large at Eyre Hall, and he might strike again. It would be wise to conduct discreet investigations in order to discover the culprit, and ensure the safety of the other members of the household.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are not safe. None of the residents at Eyre Hall is safe. The murderer will not know we are searching for him, but we must find him. He may strike again.”

  I was relieved that he was not a heartless blackmailer but terrified of his foreboding words. “Of course, Doctor Carter, you are right. We must find him, but who will investigate and how?”

  “You and I will do so. Nobody else must be informed. I suggest you make it known that you feel unwell in the next few days so that no one will be surprised when I visit you every day.”

  “But how shall we investigate?”

  “We shall approach the matter in a logical way. While I was in London, I met Doctor Watson, a renowned private investigator, and he told me something of the scientific method. First, we must collect data, and then we can propose theories. We need facts Mrs. Mason.”

  “What facts?”

  “Firstly, I will need a list of everyone who was at Eyre Hall on the evening Mr. Mason died. At the moment everyone is a suspect.” He smiled. “Except you, of course, because you were not responsible.” He waited a few seconds and stared straight into my eyes. “Were you?”

  I held his penetrating look, registering his words. Had he dared to accuse me? Did he have the audacity to suggest I might have something to do with Richard’s death? I was outraged and close to discharging him from my house and my service, but I realised he could have the matter brought to the attention of the law, so instead I pronounced the words he needed to hear.

  “I did not kill Mr. Mason, if that is what you are asking, Doctor Carter.”

  He smiled. “Thank you Mrs. Mason, and please forgive my boldness. Murder is a serious crime, and you will understand that although my heart never doubted your innocence, my logical mind had to be put at rest.”

  “I hope it has. So, now how are we to proceed?”

  “We shall analyse who had the opportunity, the motive, the weapon, and the cold blood needed to kill someone, and who had more than one, more than two, more than three, or the four elements.

  “Once we have all our suspects, we will reconstruct what happened yesterday evening. Could you write a list of all the people in your residence on the night he died, and a detailed account of the day’s events, including what time people arrived and left, and what they were doing and where.”

  “I can write up the list of guests and staff, and I can tell you part of what Mr. Mason does, but I cannot account for all his actions and movements.”

  “Then we will have to ask discreetly, to fill in the rest of the information. Who would know? His valet, for example?”

  “Simon, of course. Mrs. Leah told me that he left last night.”

  “That is a coincidence we must investigate. Do you know where he went and why?”

  “Apparently he had to visit a relative in London on a personal matter.”

  “Interesting. We must speak to Simon as soon as possible.”

  “Shall we start now with our list of suspects?”

  He nodded and took out a large notebook. I led him to my desk and we both sat down to work.

  “Shall we start with the servants?”

  “Joseph and Cook, Mrs. Leah, Daisy, Christy, Beth, Simon, and Fred.”

  He wrote down their names vertically and on the horizontal axis he wrote five words; Motive, Opportunity, Access to Weapon, Aptitude, and Comments.

  “What about Susan?”

  “Susan is engaged to Dante, as you know, so she is no longer a servant.”

  “I see, so we shall include her name with the next list of family and friends.”

  “Precisely, Doctor. Next on your list we have John, Annette, Adele and Mr. Greenwood, and Dante and Susan.”

  He wrote all the names carefully before speaking. “The motives are usually related to money, love, or vengeance. The questions are, who would gain financially or romantically from his death? Or who had been seriously offended by Mr. Mason, so much that they would want to kill him?”

  “I would gain the most.” I sighed, understanding all too well why he had asked me about my implication.

  “You are not a suspect, Mrs. Mason. You are a possible victim.”

  I shuddered.

  “What about Miss Annette?”

  “Her finances are solely in my hands. She will gain nothing from her uncle’s death, and she has no reason to hate him.”

  “Master John?”

  “John will inherit the estate, except Eyre Hall and the grounds, when he is thirty, independently of whom I marry, and he does not hate Mr. Mason, nor has he any reason to.”

  “Adele?”

  �
��Adele’s finances are in my hands too. None of the family would gain financially from his death, and none of them have any cause for vengeance, Dr. Carter.”

  “Had Mr. Mason any mistresses?”

  “I am sure he did. We led separate lives. He spent most of the year in Jamaica, and when he was in England, he preferred London.”

  “Do you know who they are?”

  “No. I never had any interest in his affairs.”

  “Could you find out?”

  “I could look through his expenses. He must be paying her or them. Simon might know, but I doubt it.”

  “Have you noticed how it always comes back to Simon?”

  “Simon was probably the last person to see him alive, as he always goes up to his room before retiring for the day, in case Mr. Mason needs anything. Nevertheless, I am sure Simon is incapable of killing anyone, and far less of organising such a clean killing. Moreover, he has no motive.”

  “He could be helping someone else. There could be more than one person involved. Shall we look at the servants one by one?”

  “Cook and Joseph are an elderly couple with no children, who have absolutely no reason to gain anything from his death or reason to hate him.”

  “Very well. And Mrs. Leah?”

  “She has known Mr. Mason for longer than I have. She was a maid at Thornfield Hall when Mr. Rochester was still married to Bertha Mason. I do not know of their dealings or relationship, but there may be issues of which I am not aware. She naturally has, as do all the servants, direct access to arsenic powder that we use for the rodents. It seems to me that she has no motive or anything to gain.”

  “Fred?”

  “Fred is new at Eyre Hall. I believe he hardly knows Mr. Mason. I cannot think of any way he could benefit from or wish for his death.”

  “The young girls?”

  “They are lively, hard–working, and church–going young girls. I cannot imagine why they would wish to see Mr. Mason dead.”

  “It would seem we have no suspects.” He sighed. “We must be overlooking something, Mrs. Mason.”