Murder at Cleeve Abbey

by Anita Davison

  ‘Because I’m starving.’ Eddy held up his fork which held a generous slice of bacon. ‘I’m going to have another helping too.’

  ‘Don’t you think you should wait and see what that woman doctor your father insists will be returning today says about that? And why are you wearing your black suit? Surely you don’t intend to attend the funeral?’

  Flora hadn’t considered this, though after one sweeping glance she realized that everyone was dressed similarly. If not in full mourning, then a more reasonable tribute of respect. Her heart warmed at the thought all the Vaughns were going to come, even Eddy.

  ‘Leave the boy, Venetia,’ Lord Vaughn returned to the table with a plate piled high with everything the dishes contained, even kidneys and kedgeree. ‘He knows his own mind.’

  ‘Indeed I do,’ Eddy said between mouthfuls. ‘I’d known Maguire all my life and I want to pay my respects. If he hadn’t suspected the arsenic thingy, Flora would never have put it together and I might be dead now.’

  ‘Eddy, don’t!’ Lady Venetia waved a hand in front of her face as if dismissing the thought.’

  ‘Yes, well.’ Eddy pouted. ‘I miss him. It feels odd not seeing him every day.’

  ‘Thank you, Eddy,’ Flora’s whispered, her throat burning with suppressed emotion. ‘I appreciate it.’

  He gave her a shy grin, pushed back his chair and headed for the sideboard.

  ‘I just hope he doesn’t make himself sick,’ Lady Venetia nibbled at a slice of toast, and flushed when her husband frowned at her. ‘Which reminds me.’ She rose slowly to her feet, one hand brought to her lips, obviously distracted. ‘Some of the flowers and wreaths have arrived here already this morning. ‘I’ll have to go and see to them myself now we’re without a head butler.’ She released a long suffering sigh and headed for the door, almost colliding with Jocasta who was on her way in. ‘I might have to try an agency.’ Her lips curled slightly on the last word.

  ‘Poor, Mama.’ Jocasta smirked, having apparently heard this last comment. ‘She doesn’t like change does she? I think she’s more upset at what Mrs Mountjoy did than anything. Mama has few real friends, even superficial ones.’

  Flora greeted her with a smile, noting Jocasta wore unrelieved black and had even wound black ribbons into her hair. She mouthed a silent “thank you” as Jocasta passed her chair, which was returned with squeeze of Flora’s shoulder.

  Jocasta’s smile dissolved into a frustrated sigh when she reached the sideboard. ‘Eddy! You’ve just taken the last sausage,’

  Eddy grinned at her as he darted past her and resumed his seat.

  Sighing, Jocasta ladled food onto her plate while muttering under her breath that he would be more spoiled than ever after this. ‘No one made this much fuss of me when I had chicken pox last winter.’

  William hid a smile, and nudged him as they stood side by side filling their plates.

  ‘It’s not the same as being poisoned,’ Eddy pointed out as Jocasta took her seat. ‘I nearly died.’

  ‘Does anyone know how Peter is?’ Flora attempted to bring a halt to all talk of dying, picking at her eggs with little appetite at the thought of what the morning held.

  ‘Still weak,’ Lord Vaughn said, looking up from his plate. ‘Dr Billings feels he’ll likely be well enough to go home later today. She’ll call in later and check on him.’

  ‘I doubt Mr Griggs will be too enamoured of you running up a medical bill on his behalf, Papa.’ Jocasta sniffed.

  ‘I’ve instructed all her bills are to be sent to me, so Griggs doesn’t have to worry.’

  ‘That’s most kind of you, my lord.’ Flora looked up in time to catch his slight flush and deprecating shrug. ‘Venetia is annoyed enough with me already about Dr Billings. She doesn’t approve. Oh, and by the way.’ He raised his fork in the air. ‘Dr Billings doesn’t think he’s got consumption either, merely bronchitis which has worsened through being ignored.’

  ‘Oh, I am pleased to hear that,’ Flora said. ‘And I rather like the name Dr Grace.

  ‘That’s what I call her,’ Eddy said as he tucked into another generously filled plate. ‘She’s nice. Comforting, like the school nurse and Flora rolled into one. May I have some of that coffee?’

  ‘Don’t push it, little brother.’ Jocasta narrowed her eyes as she placed a glass of milk in front of him.

  Eddy flushed but didn’t argue.

  An awkward silence ensued broken only by the click of cutlery, the odd cough and a snap of a newspaper.

  ‘Isn’t anyone going to tell me what is going to happen about Mr Scrivens? I haven’t seen him since yesterday.’ She hoped he hadn’t got wind of what was happening and had bolted.

  ‘Ah, yes him.’ William returned to the table, having poured himself more coffee. ‘When Bracenose came running out to tell us you needed help at Mrs Mountjoy’s, Scrivens must have seen it. Knowing he was under suspicion he decided to make himself scarce.’

  ‘So while we went off to rescue you,’ Bunny interjected. ‘William instructed him to find Scrivens and make sure he didn’t leave the premises.’

  ‘By any means he thought necessary, where his exact words,’ William added, smiling.

  ‘Did he find him?’ Flora asked carefully.

  ‘Indeed. He was packing his things when Bracenose located him.’ William said.

  ‘The police were still at Caroline’s house sorting out the mess there when Venetia and I got back,’ Lord Vaughn joined the conversation. ‘I ordered Scrivens put into the cellar for the night. Constable Jones will question him later this morning.’

  ‘He had better bring a police van with him, because Scrivens is going to jail,’ Eddy said, evidently delighted with the idea.

  ‘Pity it’s September and not January. That cellar can get like the Arctic in the winter.’ Jocasta spread conserve on a slice of toast and took a bite. ‘I suppose we can’t have everything.’

  ‘William and I confronted Scrivens together,’ Bunny said. ‘After a certain amount of persuasion, he admitted McCallum had paid him to do it.’

  ‘What sort of persuasion?’ Flora frowned.

  ‘That’s irrelevant.’ Bunny waved his hand as if shooing the thought aside. ‘Anyway, William found something interesting amongst his belongings. A train timetable for the London and South Western Railway Company.’

  ‘He’s not as bright as he likes to appear,’ William snorted. ‘He even underlined the Richmond times. There was also a dated receipt for the Petersham Hotel.’

  ‘William convinced him he could hang as McCallum’s accomplice, which shook him. After that it was easy. He made a full confession to Constable Jones.’

  ‘And I missed all this?’ Flora huffed a breath. ‘How disappointing.’

  ‘You were sleeping. But at one point Lord Vaughn had to pull both William and myself off him when he told us how he had started the fire.’ She slanted a look at him and he added, ‘no, we didn’t touch him, though it would have been most satisfying to lay the man out. It appears Nancy was partly to blame.’

  ‘Nancy? Our kitchen maid?’ Flora recalled the girl’s distress that she might be blamed, which seemed odd at the time.

  He nodded. ‘You were right about her protesting too much. He claimed to be a salesman and she left him in the kitchen while she went to get Crabtree. While he was waiting he slipped into the cellar and emptied oil over an old piece of carpet, lit the fire and left before Crabtree arrived.’

  ‘Nancy wasn’t to know he would do that.’ Flora’s hip began to ache and she shifted on her chair in an effort to find a more comfortable position. She was about to ask where Scrivens was now, but refused to pretend she cared one way or the other.

  ‘He’ll be gone by the time we return after the funeral,’ Bunny said as if he read her thoughts. He covered her hand with his and glanced at the clock. ‘It’s time to go.’

  ‘I’ll have the carriages brought round,’ William said gently, scraping back his chair.

  *

&
nbsp; Flora eased open the stable door and stepped inside, pausing to allow her eyes to adjust to the gloom after the bright sunlight outside. Gentle snuffles and soft snorts drew her along the row of stalls, which she trod carefully to avoid clumps of soft hay beneath her feet.

  ‘Tom, are you here?’ she called, frowning. It wasn’t like Tom to leave the stables in a mess. She rounded the post and halted, startled as she came upon a couple in a tight embrace.

  ‘Mrs Harrington!’ Tom sprang away from an extremely pretty girl who took a step back, one hand raised to a riot of long, honey-coloured curls in an effort to pat them into some sort of order. A gesture less of shyness than pride, her vivid blue eyes returning Flora’s look in amused challenge.

  ‘I do apologize, Tom.’ Flora’s gaze remained on the girl. ‘I thought you were alone.’ She turned away, embarrassed. What Tom Murray did and with whom was no business of hers, though she couldn’t help wondering who the girl was.

  ‘No, don’t go, Mrs Harrington.’ Tom crossed the space between them. ‘I want to explain.’

  ‘You don’t owe me an explanation, Tom. I only came to tell you Mr Harrington and I are due to catch the train back to Richmond straight after the funeral, so I came to say goodbye and to thank you for your kindness.’

  ‘Miss Flora!’ Tom grasped the girl’s hand and dragged her forward. ‘I want you to meet Betsy,’ he said, his voice tinged with pride.

  ‘Betsy Mason?’ Flora gaped as she looked from him to the girl and back again. With everything that had happened she had completely forgotten about Betsy.

  The girl’s vivid blue eyes widened slightly in challenge as she returned Flora’s look steadily.

  ‘Well.’ Flora leaned against the nearest upright. ‘You caused quite a stir around here. All sorts of stories circulated about what had happened to you.’

  ‘Nothing happened,’ Betsy said, her voice low and musical. ‘I simply needed some time to think.’

  ‘I’m intrigued as to where you went, and why?’ Flora asked, then added. ‘I’m sorry, I have no right to ask.’

  ‘She’s been with me,’ Tom turned to stare at Betsy as if he couldn’t believe his luck.

  ‘Quite an improvement on a collie, Tom.’ Flora raised a brow to the ceiling and smiled. ‘And your eye is almost healed.’ Tom fingered his face, and Flora went on, ‘I’m guessing Scrivens was responsible for that?’

  ‘Aye. He made a remark about Betsy which wasn’t true.’ He gave a dismissive snort. ‘She wouldn’t have had anything to do with him, but I couldn’t have him spreading lies about her could I? Though I’m not as handy with my fists as he is.’

  ‘That’s a skill he may need where he’s going,’ Flora murmured, then louder. ‘You don’t have to worry about him. He’s in no position to make your life difficult anymore.’ Flora changed the subject. She didn’t want to discuss the man now, nor ever. ‘Why did you run off after the fête, Betsy?’

  ‘Mr McCallum, well, he made me all sorts of promises.’ She flushed and covered her mouth with her hand, but Tom didn’t react at all. It was as if he knew everything there was to know about her and none of it mattered. Much like herself and Bunny.

  ‘I know it was stupid of me to fall for his lies,’ Betsy went on, ‘but he made it all sound so wonderful. We would be married and I would go and live at the hall, and-.’ She broke off and swallowed. ‘It was all lies. At the fête, when I asked him when he planned to announce our engagement, he laughed at me. Said I was stupid to believe it was anything more than a bit of fun. That I wasn’t good enough for him I slapped him and ran out.’

  ‘No one has seen you for a month, where did you go?’ Flora didn’t mention Constable Jones, no doubt Tom would sort that gentleman out.

  ‘I was going to leave, though I had nowhere to go.’ She shrugged her dainty shoulders, the gesture on her somehow appealing. ‘I told Tom telling him how miserable I was and the trouble with Mr McCallum and Scrivens. He’s always been nice to me, and I knew I could trust him.’

  ‘We agreed she should stay in hiding until I worked out what to do about Scrivens,’ Tom said. ‘If he knew she was here, he would have pestered her again.’

  ‘It was you I saw at the cottage that day, wasn’t it, Betsy? And you’ve been hiding above the stables for all that time?’

  Tom laced his fingers through hers and pressed them against his chest. ‘It’s been grand, Mrs Harrington. Like a holiday. Now Scrivens has got what he deserved-‘

  ‘Yes, I cannot believe he tried to burn you out of your house?’ Betsy’s eyes widened with as much excitement as shock. ‘I knew he was a sly creature, but a murderer?’

  ‘An unsuccessful one, thank goodness,’ Flora said.

  ‘Anyway, Betsy doesn’t have to hide any more, and we’re going to ask her uncle if we can get married.’

  ‘He’ll give his permission, you don’t have to worry about that.’ Betsy looked up into Tom’s eyes. ‘Especially when he knows we’ve been living together this last week or so.’

  ‘I imagine he will.’ A smile tugged Flora’s mouth. ‘Many congratulations to you both.’

  She strode back to the door and pulled it closed, then leaned against it, smiling to herself.

  ‘What are you smiling at?’ Bunny said when she joined him at the carriage.

  ‘Do you recall what you once told me? That life is messy and not every question has a neat answer?’ She held onto his arm with both hands and hugged him to her.

  ‘A little profound for me I would have thought. Why?’

  ‘I’ll explain later, but it appears that not every mystery has an unhappy ending either.’

  ‘Maybe, but I hope you’ll be more careful in future. There are some unsavoury characters out there and you’re too trusting.’

  ‘You must rue the day you became involved in my complicated background.’ She released his arm only long enough to climb into the carriage. ‘Are there times when you wish you hadn’t married me?’

  ‘Absolutely not!’ He slid into the seat beside her. ‘I cannot wait to tell Mother that she’ll have to cease her pointed remarks about governesses now my wife is an heiress and sister-in-law to a lord.’ His smile faded. ‘Have you made your peace with William yet?’

  ‘Peace isn’t quite the right word. William wants to get to know me, which seemed an odd request when he has always been a part of my life. I suppose I’m the one who has to adjust my thinking about him.’

  ‘I expect he’s well aware of that, but what do you want?’

  ‘That’s the point. I don’t know. I’m still so angry that I was lied to all my life.’

  ‘William had no choice, you must understand that. He wants to do what’s best for you now. For both of you.’

  ‘Too little, too late,’ Flora murmured, then louder. ‘That doesn’t mean I can’t let him sweat a little.’

  Bunny slewed his eyes sideways at her, sighed and rapped on the carriage roof as a signal for them to leave. ‘Now, are you ready to lay your father to rest?’

  ‘He wasn’t my father though, was he?’ Flora’s voice hitched.

  ‘Yes, he was.’ Bunny squeezed her hand as the carriage set off. ‘In every way that mattered.’

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  Acknowledgements

  With grateful thanks to the brilliant team at Aria for all their efforts in making this series possible. To Caroline Ridding for her vision in bringing Flora to life, Sarah Ritherdon for her enthusiasm for my characters and Jade Craddock for her sharp eye in straightening out my clumsy narrative, as well as the A
ria cover artists for the beautiful, eye-catching jackets.

  Not forgetting my agent Kate Nash who always had faith in me and whose encouragement and hard work is what has got me this far.

  Also I would like a special mention to the Historical Novel Critique Group, great writers all who never fail to keep me on track.

  About Anita Davison

  Born in London, Anita has always had a penchant for all things historical. She now lives in the beautiful Cotswolds, the backdrop for her Flora Maguire mysteries.

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  First published in the UK in 2016 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Anita Davison, 2016