Murder At Rudhall Manor

by Anya Wylde

  A laugh escaped Lucy's lips frightening all humans present in the room except Lord Adair.

  Elizabeth growled impatiently. "Can't you see she is a dangerous loon?" If we cannot throw her out of the house, then I suggest we move her to a room farther away from the family. Perhaps in a different wing?

  "We don't have any rooms available," Lady Sedley objected.

  "Who is coming to stay?" Ian drawled. Aunt Sedley pushed a phantom handkerchief through one of his ears and pulled it out of the other.

  "She can move to the basement, Lord Adair. She can stay with the servants," Elizabeth offered after a brief moment.

  Lucy turned a shocked face towards Elizabeth.

  Lady Sedley brightened. "That is a splendid suggestion. I can ask my maid to keep an eye on her from now on."

  Aunt Sedley produced a ghostly hammer and started walloping Lady Sedley on the head. It didn't hurt Lady Sedley, but the action seemed to give the spirit some sort of morbid satisfaction.

  "Allow me to keep an eye on her. She won’t hurt the family," Lord Adair smoothly interjected.

  Elizabeth lips tightened, but no one dared to oppose Lord Adair's suggestion.

  "But I agree with Miss Sedley," Lord Adair continued, tapping the cigar so that a shower of grey ash melted into the carpet. "Miss Trotter will have to move to the basement before eleven tomorrow morning."

  "Ah," Ian came awake, "Miss Trotter is moving to a servant's room. Whatever for?"

  "She was caught hiding under mother's bed," Elizabeth snapped at Ian.

  Lucy's shoulder sagged, though a part of her admitted that things could have been worse. She could have been locked in a room until Lord Adair finished his investigations.

  When she next dared to look up, it was to catch Lady Sedley goggling at Peter trying to communicate something telepathically. Clearly Ian had inherited his brains from his mother.

  "After all the excitement, we need a drop of the strong stuff," Lord Adair remarked. He pulled out a dark bottle from one pocket and a glass from the other. Pouring a generous amount for himself, he handed the bottle to Lady Sedley. "Take a big swig," he encouraged with a kindly look in his eye.

  Lady Sedley detached herself from his arm and drank. Colour rushed back into her face, and with eyes crossed, she passed the bottle to Peter.

  Once everyone had taken a relaxing gulp and the bottle had been extracted from Ian's vice like grip, Elizabeth stood up and smoothed her skirts. "Well, now that is settled," she said, "we can all depart for bed." She caught her brother's arm, while her lashes fluttered helplessly at Lord Adair. "Ian, the hallway is eerily dark. Will … will you escort me to my room?"

  Lord Adair contemplated the golden liquid in his glass, while Ian looked comically taken aback by the request.

  "You are jesting, Lizzy? You are afraid of a dark hallway? Why, you would frighten the ghosts away with that cackling laughter of yours," Ian grinned.

  Aunt Sedley nodded in agreement.

  "Allow me," Lord Adair cut in smoothly.

  Elizabeth smiled triumphantly as she hooked her claws in Lord Adair's arm. Aunt Sedley smoothed her hair, adjusted her corset and floated out behind them. It seemed even the dead were not immune to Lord Adair's charms.

  Ian followed looking confounded as usual.

  Lucy crept out next, and as soon as she had walked a few steps away from the room, a heavy burden seemed to escape the knotted bun at the nape of her neck. She strode swiftly down the hallway only to halt suddenly beside the hideous statue of Medusa.

  A vision of Lady Sedley goggling at Peter's woolly night cap arose in front of her eyes.

  She blinked away the image and spun on her heels.

  This time her swift walk down the corridor was not towards her room but back from where she had come.

  Lucy Anne Trotter had decided to eavesdrop some more.

  ***

  "Ask Lord Adair to cease investigating at once." Lucy overheard Lady Sedley tell Peter.

  "Me?" Peter squeaked.

  "Yes, you," Lady Sedley snapped. "You are now the owner of Rudhall and all it contains. Stand tall, lift up your weak chin and order that man to leave your property."

  "Glurg," Peter managed to say.

  "That," Lady Sedley said coldly, "is not helpful."

  The silence seemed to stretch.

  Peter must be digging deep within his soul, Lucy mused.

  Then she heard him ask ever so softly, "But he may find father's killer and the jewels."

  "We can find the jewels ourselves. Don't you understand, you fool —"

  A rough hand clasped around Lucy's mouth while another caught her around the waist. The stench of smoke and wet dog tickled her nose.

  Her eyes grew large in horror as she felt herself being lifted off the ground.

  "You are unbelievable," Ian whispered in her ear as he walked down the hallway. "You were banished to the basement for hiding under mother's bed, and here I find you going right back to doing exactly what you were punished for."

  Lucy cursed her foolishness. Why, oh why had she been convinced that so soon after her banishment to the servant's room no one would expect her to repeat her offence? She had thought she was being clever.

  Ian chuckled and playfully slapped her bottom.

  She panicked and began wriggling in his grip like an agitated earthworm and kicked about like an offended vegetarian giraffe.

  Her squirming and flailing did not help. Ian easily carried her down the hallway, turned the corner and flung open the first door on the right.

  He threw her inside.

  She fell face down.

  She heard the bolt shut and realised that Ian had locked the door from the outside. He had left her alone in this strange room which had not a glimmer of light anywhere.

  She had just opened her mouth to scream when he returned carrying a candle.

  The yellow light cast looming shadows on the wall. It was a room she had never been in before. It was empty of furniture save a cupboard in the corner and a broken table by the window.

  His teeth gleamed white as he leered at her.

  "He is just like his father." Aunt Sedley floated in through the blank wall. She tilted her head. "Not as dashing though. Do you want to kiss him?"

  Lucy shook her head frantically. "I want to get away."

  Ian frowned and took a step towards her. "Don't make a noise or I will tell mother what I saw. And this time your punishment won't be so kind."

  "Don't show fear," Aunt Sedley commented sipping from a teacup.

  Lucy crossed her arms and looked Ian in the eye. "What do you want?"

  "A kiss and cuddle," he replied.

  The windows rattled. "That is the best I can do. No pillows, drapes or quilt in this room to frighten him with," Aunt Sedley said stirring sugar in her cup. "The cold is not helping. He is full of lust. He won't feel the chill."

  Lucy threw a pleading look in the ghost's direction and took a step back.

  Ian took a step forward.

  Aunt Sedley sighed. "You should learn how to defend yourself from unwanted advances. I learned it all when I was fifteen. I could have taught you the Hunga Munga, but the tool needed is not at hand and it will take some time to teach you … I could try to explain about certain points in the body to attack that will kill him in an instant. I learned that trick from a wonderful lover—"

  Ian grabbed Lucy's arm. "Can't you think of something quick?" Lucy squeaked at the ghost.

  "Oh, no, my love. This will take some time," Ian breathed into her ear.

  Aunt Sedley pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Ah, I think I have it."

  "Hurry," Lucy urged.

  "Ooh, naughty, naughty," Ian chuckled and licked her earlobe.

  Aunt Sedley fluttered down next to Lucy and eyed Ian's busy tongue meditatively, "This is what I think you should do. Bite his arm painfully enough to make him screech and release you. He will be busy letting out a stream of profanities while you race over to the candle lying on the
table, pick it up and fling it in his direction. He will squeal in fright and dodge the candle in order to save his limbs from burning. The candle will fall to the ground and start rolling on the dry wooden floor. He will recall at that crucial moment that when dry wood and a burning candle meet, it usually means a flaming disaster. Predictably, he will scrabble after the candle to save the house from burning down. Meanwhile, you wrench open the door and flee down the hallway. Thereafter, run very fast, for it won't be long before he comes hurtling after you."

  "Thank you," Lucy told the spirit.

  "You are welcome," Ian replied and chewed her ear lobe more enthusiastically.

  After that, it was a simple matter of following Aunt Sedley's directions, which Lucy did beautifully. She bit Ian, flung the candle in his direction and wrenched open the door. And just as Aunt Sedley had predicted, she was soon running down the hallway thanking her stars that Ian was a dimwit.

  Dimwit turned out to be quicker than she had expected for his bruised manly ego spurred him on.

  He came flying down the corridor like an enraged Viking who had been pinked by a chit of a girl.

  His Stone Age ancestors awoke inside his wily soul and reared their angry heads. They bared their sharp teeth and did a fiery little dance.

  Encouraged, Ian quickened his pace and ran like he had never run before. The wind rushed through his black hair making the oily locks streak back and sway to and fro.

  Soon his ancestors started singing battle songs inside his empty head. He smiled a grim smile as he bounded forward with his legs spread far and wide.

  At this point his ancestors from the Iron Age joined him as well. They pulled out trumpets, flutes and drums and started playing a perky little tune.

  He was now running so fast that his feet were barely touching the ground, his bottom was swinging madly, while his fleshy cheeks were jiggling alarmingly.

  Lucy gulped and forced her limbs to accelerate.

  He was bigger and faster.

  She had to reach her room before he caught her again. A quick glance behind showed he was closing in on her when suddenly a low moan reached her ears. A loud crash followed, and she turned back in time to see Ian lying flat on the ground with Palmer, the baboon, sitting on his back.

  Palmer seemed to be picking nits out of Ian's hair and calmly eating them while Ian struggled to get the heavy animal off his back.

  She didn't wait to see more but hurtled back to her room.

  "Change of plans," she whispered as she threw herself on the bed in relief. "I am going to start searching for the jewels. No more eavesdropping."

  "I concur," Aunt Sedley said swinging upside down from the ceiling.

  Chapter 20

  "And you can help me look for the jewels," Lucy said, sitting up on the bed and staring up at the spirit slowly revolving near the roof. "You can go anywhere and listen to anyone without being seen. This is perfect."

  Aunt Sedley stopped revolving, hooked two of her fingers together and swung from side to side.

  "Whose room will you search first?" Lucy prompted.

  Aunt Sedley ducked her head, bit her lip and placed her palms on her cheek.

  Lucy frowned. "Why are you acting so odd? Are you coming down with some sort of ghostly fever?"

  "I am blushing, you nitwit," Aunt Sedley snapped.

  "Whatever for?"

  "I am sorry. I can't help you search the house."

  "You were blushing because you can't help me look for the jewels?"

  Aunt Sedley floated down and sat next to Lucy. She giggled. "Well, no … I was blushing because—"

  "Yes?"

  "You would be surprised to know that when I was alive, I was extremely arrogant. I had all sorts of men wanting to marry me and I refused them all. I believed anyone who was not blue blooded was not worthy of my affections."

  Lucy drummed her fingers on the pillow. "And now that you have no blood—"

  "Are you trying to hurt my feelings?"

  "I am sorry," Lucy hastily soothed. "I didn't think. Continue."

  "After I died," Aunt Sedley resumed reluctantly, "I met someone."

  "Someone."

  "Mr Brown. He used to be a blacksmith."

  "I see."

  "Well, we are courting."

  "I don't see."

  "He is wooing me. I have been spending my evenings with him. It is still so new that I cannot bear to put a stop to our meetings so soon. He has taught me so much … for instance how to respect everyone, even commoners. Why do you suppose I don't look down my fine aristocratic nose at you?"

  "I see. So, you are being wooed by a Mr Brown and you would rather haunt the village with him than help me hunt for the jewels. You talk to me like I am a human being and not horse droppings stuck to your translucent boot because of this same Mr Brown?"

  "We don't haunt anyone. Just float around clouds and—" She stopped abruptly. "Why are you looking at me so oddly?"

  "I didn't know ghosts courted—"

  "You don’t think we have a heart?"

  "Well you are dead so how can you have a—"

  "We have emotions."

  "I am sorry."

  "Do you have to constantly remind me that I am dead?"

  "I didn't mean to—"

  "Thoughtless. All young women your age are heartless, cold, calculating—"

  "No, no, I promise I will me more sensitive. Truly."

  "Humph."

  "Tell me about Mr Brown. He sounds kind and wonderful and charming. Is he handsome?" Lucy coaxed.

  "Mr Brown … "Aunt Sedley sighed and sparked a few times before melting into a puddle at the bottom of the bed.

  "Aunt Sedley?" Lucy worriedly peered at the sappy pool on the ground.

  Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, Aunt Sedley reformed herself after a moment. Her ghostly bosom heaved up and down as she gushed, "Oh, he is handsome, sooo handsome, but what truly attracted me was his cowlick. That wonderful tuft of hair grows right at the back of his head. It sticks up and trembles every time I go near him."

  "Are you meeting him tonight?"

  Aunt Sedley squealed and flew towards the window. "I will be late. We were meant to skim over the river tonight. I promised to meet him after dinner. I will be back … back … back ...."

  "Ghosts have dinner?" Lucy muttered to herself. "What in the world do they eat?"

  "I heard that." Aunt Sedley's voice floated back.

  "I am sorry." Lucy shouted back. This time the rain dancing on the window pane was her only answer.

  ***

  It was mid-day and yet the room in the basement was dark enough to warrant a candle. The tiny bed with a hard mattress had a lumpy pillow on one end and a thin blanket folded at the other. A mere two steps away stood a creaking cupboard, an empty basin, and a single chair with chipped flowers and bulbs carved into its back. The room had no windows and it stank of mould and gin.

  Lucy slapped the chair with a rag and dust billowed into her face making her sneeze.

  "I see you are settling into your new room."

  Lucy whipped around to find Lord Adair standing near the door. She said nervously, "Come in."

  His long black cloak rustled as he bent his head to avoid hitting the top of the doorway and entered the room. He straightened up and swept a critical gaze at the contents of the room. "I can arrange for you to move into the attic with the maids instead of ...." He gestured at the blank windowless wall.

  "The maids share a room. I would rather have my privacy," Lucy said struggling to open the brown travelling bag sitting on the bed.

  "I thought as much." He rummaged around in his cloak and pulled out a bundle. "This is for you."

  Lucy abandoned the bag, wiped her hands on the side of her skirt and took the offered bundle.

  It contained twenty candles tied together with a bit of twine.

  Her eyes grew large. "Goodness. These are beeswax."

  "And here.”He offered her the thick quilt he had been holding in
his other hand behind his back. At her questioning look, he clarified. "The cook and the kitchen maid have made their rooms comfortable down here, whereas you are in a peculiar position, and I suspect without any money."

  "Thank you," Lucy said, gingerly holding the candles. She had only burned tallow before. "But why did you—?"

  "I feel responsible, since I agreed with Miss Sedley that you should live in the basement."

  "I don't understand you, my lord. One moment you punish me and the next you offer me a salve for my wounds."

  "Are you angry," he asked, taking another step towards her.

  The room seemed to shrink.

  She looked away from his penetrating gaze. "No, I am not angry. I am just glad to still have my freedom."

  His dark eyes shimmered in the dim light. "Can I ask you a question?"

  Lucy nodded and pulled out the rag and attacked the cupboard.

  "How can you smile, Miss Trotter?"

  Tears suddenly rose up and choked her throat. Her hand faltered in the act of dusting.

  She cast around for a change of topic.

  A sharp intake of breath later she spoke in a voice that only slightly wobbled. "Mr Sedley … I mean, the younger Mr Sedley is an empty headed fool."

  He smiled. "Trying to change the topic, annoy the other person or baffle them until they forget their original question. It's a special little trick of yours, is it not, Miss Trotter?"

  Her eyes widened.

  He said kindly, "You don't have to answer my question."

  "But will you answer mine?" she asked.

  He frowned and gestured for her to continue.

  She straightened her back. "Ian is a dimwit."

  "No doubt—"

  "Then how could he have helped you, my lord, with anything? You said he did you a great service once."

  "It is a long story."

  Lucy flung the rag into the cupboard and sat down on the bed. "I have time."

  A tiny smile teased the corner of his mouth. “Very well, then. Three years ago, on a cold wintry day, I was unclad and hiding in a bush when Mr Sedley's carriage happened to pass by. I waved the carriage down and Mr Sedley stopped and offered me a cloak and a ride back to my house. He saved me from freezing to death."