by Joan Smith
“Send for Mrs. Wiggans, Cook,” I said. “We shall take Mrs. Manner to her room for the nonce. I shall remain with her until Mrs. Wiggans arrives.”
“That you will not, Miss Greenwood,” Cook said firmly. “You are worn to the socket. Tell her, Doctor. We don’t want another corpse on our hands.”
“You had best let someone else tend to it, Miss Greenwood,” he agreed. “You have taken quite enough for one day. I shall leave you a sleeping draught for tonight. And I shall speak to Croton about getting Bow Street down here as well. This business has gone beyond my help. We need a professional to sort it out.”
Culpepper accompanied the footmen up to Mrs. Manner’s room. I remained below with Cook for a moment, to discuss dinner. No one would be able to eat much, but it seemed important to maintain some semblance of normal life. It would be good for the servants to have their regular chores to perform, to keep them from becoming obsessed by the murders. The pantry was loaded down with all the dainties prepared for the nephews’ visit, so arranging the meal did not take long.
“Just something simple but hot,” I said. “In such weather, cold mutton is unappetizing.”
“I’ll carve the roast then, but not bother with the turbot,” Cook said. “A pity, for the fish looked especially fine. But there you are, this is no time to be setting a feast on the board.”
I ran up the back stairs to see that Mrs. Manner was laid out on her bed with all due ceremony. Culpepper was alone with her, examining not her body, but her clothing. He was looking through her pockets.
“I hoped she might have a note on her. It is possible, you know, that someone asked her to meet him at the hollies. They provide excellent concealment from the road and the house. He had her to himself there, the villain.”
“I doubt she would have kept any such appointment, Doctor. She must have realized the danger of her position. You did not find a note?”
“No, and there was no point looking either. Whoever did this to her”—he gestured to her head—"would have looked to see his note was not left behind.” He shook his head. “Such a gentle creature she was.”
“She did not deserve this,” I agreed. “You saw no sign of Duke?”
“ ‘Twas nearly dark by the time we got there. We could hardly find Mrs. Manner. I’ll be back out in the morning. He’ll turn up, but not alive.”
“I shall be in my room for the next half-hour if you need me, Doctor. Will you stay for dinner?”
“I would rather not. No offence, Miss Greenwood, but I do not enjoy eating in a house of death. My good wife will have my mutton ready for me. You and I shall have a chat tomorrow. I’ll leave your sleeping draught with Juteclaw.”
“Thank you. I shall be thankful for any help you can give me. Sleep will not come easily tonight.”
He patted my arm. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, my dear.”
I went to my room and lit one lamp. Then I just sat in the slipper chair by the window, looking out into the blackness beyond, thinking. I would not make an occasion of dinner this evening by dressing for it. There was no pleasure in knowing that I shared my mutton with a murderer.
Chapter Ten
When I went belowstairs for dinner, I stopped a moment at the top of the curving staircase, as I had done the night before. Only twenty-four hours ago Mrs. Manner and I had stood on this same spot full of delightful anticipation, while Aunt Hettie had sat below, enjoying her visitors.
Now two of us three were gone, and I was faced with such profound changes as usually only occur over the space of a whole lifetime. I had lost my closest family, as well as my dearest friend—lost them in the cruellest, most brutal way imaginable. And I now had to confront the guests, wondering in my heart which of them had murdered two helpless old ladies.
How I longed to run back to my bedroom and hide under the covers. But I would not let myself give in to such paltry cravings. I would face the nephews, and keep my eyes and ears open for the false move that might reveal the culprit.
They were all four in the saloon, all of them changed into black evening suits. The mourning bands on their left arms, scarcely visible, seemed superfluous. I had received a note from Mrs. Maherne that my mourning gown would be finished by tomorrow. She was to give it precedence over all her other work, and had even hired an assistant to help speed the job. As I entered the saloon, it struck me that the mood was more hostile than sad.
“Completely inappropriate!” Felix said to his brother.
“He’s right,” Horatio said. “Don’t you agree, Otto?”
After a moment’s consideration, Otto said, “Mrs. Rampling is hardly the optimum choice, yet some lady must be found, and in very short order. Preferably this evening, in fact.”
“Here is Jessie. Let us ask her opinion,” Gregory said, and came to meet me. “We have just been discussing your chaperone, my dear. We cannot leave you here unattended with a house of bachelors. Not that your virtue would be in danger, but for the sake of Mrs. Grundy, as you might say.”
“Who?” Horatio asked. “What the deuce has a Mrs. Grundy to say about it I should like to know.”
“For the looks of it, Horatio,” Gregory explained.
“Are you suggesting bringing Mrs. Rampling here as chaperone?” I asked, incensed at the idea of being chaperoned by Gregory’s mistress.
“Just for the nonce, until we can ship in an aunt or some such thing,” he explained.
“Would a neighbour not be more appropriate? The vicar’s wife, perhaps,” Otto suggested.
“Jennings is a widower,” I said. “But Mrs. Culpepper, or Mr. Weldon’s mother might—oh dear. Mrs. Culpepper has her sick mother to look after.”
“You would hardly want Mrs. Weldon,” Felix said. “I mean to say ... I met her when her husband was alive. She could curdle cream at sixty paces.”
Mrs. Weldon was an austere old Methodist. I did not look forward to having her to deal with at this trying time. And besides, she was crippled with gout. I could not think of anyone else close by. We lived quite independent of society at Downsview.
“You will like Anita,” Gregory said. “I shall dash her off a note at once. She will be here within an hour. She is the most obliging creature in nature.”
“So one hears,” Otto murmured in his satirical vein.
Gregory coloured up angrily, but he did not make any retort. “Has anyone a better suggestion?”
“Might we not remove Jessica to a hotel in Littlehorn?” Otto said.
“Not alone, surely,” Felix said uncertainly.
“I could not possibly leave at this time!” I pointed out. And Otto knew it. “There is too much to be done. Very well, invite Mrs. Rampling, Gregory, but pray make it clear it is only an emergency for one night, until we come up with someone else.”
“I shall ask Juteclaw to send the carriage for her at once,” he said, smiling, and darted into the hallway.
Otto hunched his shoulders. “At least she is pretty, and a lively lady, one hears.”
I gave him a look laden with contumely. “That would appeal to you, Otto, but it is hardly a recommendation for a house of death.”
“You forget there are also a few of us still alive, my pet. We must warn Mrs. Rampling it is the ladies who are in particular jeopardy at Downsview.” I felt there was a warning in the look he directed at me.
Gregory soon returned. He took up a seat beside me and discussed Mrs. Rampling until dinner was announced. He assured me she was charming and considerate. Once I met her, I would not be in a hurry to have her replaced. As it seemed this paragon would keep Gregory from dangling after me, I was not entirely unhappy at the prospect of her arrival.
Dinner was a dismal affair. We pushed our food around on our plates. The gentlemen drank a considerable quantity of wine. I had a headache from the afternoon’s indulgence, and drank water. Horatio asked the footman if Duke had turned up. Gregory said he was not likely to “turn up.” They would have to continue searching the park for him.
I was glad when the meal was over and I could escape, leaving the gentlemen to their port. Mrs. Wiggans had arrived and was tending to the laying out of Mrs. Manner abovestairs. I had selected her best gown, the pretty blue silk, and the ecru bonnet with blue ribbons. I arranged her hair myself, with the little buns over her ears. The hair was still wet; Mrs. Wiggans had had to wash the blood out.
This was the last thing I would be able to do for my old friend, who had done so much for me over the years. She was always there to comfort me when Aunt Hettie was in one of her moods. She was as willing as a girl my own age to discuss gowns and beaux and such things that could not really have interested her much. Really she was my best friend, and I could not hold in the hot tears that slid down my cheeks as I bid her farewell. I had not felt this bad since my mama’s death ten years before.
At least Mama’s death had been expected, and peaceful when it finally came. She had declined over the space of ten months. Hettie and Mrs. Manner had been wrenched away so rudely. As I stood gazing at that sweet face, I made a silent vow that I would do all in my power to bring her murderer, and Hettie’s, to justice. I assumed the same man had killed them both.
“What do you want done with her ring, Miss Greenwood?” Mrs. Wiggans asked, pointing to “my” opal ring.
“She has left it to me in her will.”
“Why don’t you take it now, while you think of it?”
I slid it from her cold, lifeless finger and put it on my own, happy to take this reminder with me as I went to have a room turned out for Mrs. Rampling. I put her in the east wing, away from the gentlemen. Without her, I would have been alone in the east wing that night, except for whoever was to sit with Mrs. Manner. That would be a job for the nephews to share. Horatio had decreed I was to be spared that ordeal. Tomorrow Aunt Hettie was to be laid to rest. A few neighbours would drop in afterwards.
Vicar Jennings had arrived when I returned to the saloon. He was wearing a solemn face and looking very much at home in it. Gregory and Otto discussed the funeral arrangements with him. Later, Sir Aubrey Croton paid us a darting visit to discuss the feasibility of sending for Bow Street.
Croton’s prosperity has gone to his stomach and his back. He is stout, and takes a keen interest in his attire. Ever on the run (he is an aging bachelor, and dines out six evenings out of seven), he wore black evening clothes and could spare us only a moment. Otto briefly outlined the recent happenings at Downsview.
“Culpepper has been at me about sending for Bow Street,” Croton said to the gentlemen. “Bit of a nuisance, what?”
No one disagreed with him, which encouraged him to continue. “I mean to say, it seems Mrs. Farr was killed for her blunt, and her companion because she saw something she shouldn’t ought to have. That should be the end of it. Am I wrong?”
“I should be happier with a Bow Street officer in the house,” I informed him.
He gave me a tolerant smile. “Are four handsome young gentlemen not enough for you, Miss Greenwood? Heh-heh. I trust I can rely on you lads to look after Miss Greenwood?”
“I really do think, Sir Aubrey—”
He cut me off with a flap of his hand. “Doctor Culpepper has more wits than you are likely to find at Bow Street, my dear.”
“But he has his own work to do. He cannot spend much time with us.”
“You have only to call him if you need help.”
“Is he likely to hear me from over a mile away if I am attacked?” I asked sharply.
“Heh-heh. In that unlikely case, you have your four bodyguards,” he said, nodding to the nephews, who smiled back in agreement. “I am promised to Lord Thorpe this evening for a round of whist,” he said, and rose to take his leave.
That is how the safeguarding of Downsview was left. In other words, we were to look after ourselves.
I was in charge of the callers who would drop in after the funeral tomorrow, and to check on this, I went to speak to Cook about refreshments. For such a small funeral, we decided a cold nuncheon would suffice, with of course tea and wine to ease the chill of winter.
“I’ve all manner of food prepared, so there will be no shortage,” Cook said.
Her eyes were red from crying. Several of the girls were weeping openly. I noticed Mary had been talked into staying with us. Good positions were hard to come by, and Hettie had been a fair employer. It was all so different from how I had been imagining these last days before the New Year. Who ever thought the feast prepared for a jolly visit would be served at a funeral?
When I returned to the saloon, Gregory immediately came to me and began talking about Mrs. Rampling again. I was already tired of her before she arrived, but when she appeared in person, she was better than I expected. She was quite strikingly beautiful. Still nominally in half-mourning, she was dressed in a violet silk gown that any lady would envy, but it was her manner that surprised me more. She seemed nice. And best of all, she was no older than I, perhaps even a few years younger. I had been picturing a more formidable lady altogether.
Gregory presented Mrs. Rampling to us. It seemed she had already met Otto. She was a petite blonde with pretty brown eyes and a warm manner. Before she had spoken three sentences, I realized she spoke in italics.
“My dear, how horrid for you!” she exclaimed, seizing my two hands and squeezing them. “I came dashing the instant I received Gregory’s message. You must forgive me if I am dressed inappropriately. I cannot even begin to imagine how you must feel, losing your two companions so suddenly and unexpectedly—and in such a brutal way. It is almost beyond belief.”
“Yes, I have not begun to grasp it myself.”
“Let us sit by the fire,” she suggested, urging me closer to the grate. Felix rose to give us the sofa. “There is something comforting in a fire, is there not? And perhaps tea. Am I being a pest? I did not take time for my tea, but dashed the minute I had your summons.”
I called for a fresh pot, and for the next half-hour we sat talking, quite ignoring the gentlemen. Felix soon wandered back to his books. Horatio took a turn abovestairs with the death vigil, and Otto kept Gregory from bothering us.
After we had discussed the murders for a while, Mrs. Rampling decreed a change of topic, or we would not sleep a wink for worry. I found myself describing to her the sort of life I had been leading. She was quite simply amazed.
“My poor child! You have been virtually buried alive! It is monstrous! What was your aunt thinking of? She should have presented you at St. James’s. You would have been a great hit, I promise you.”
“I had no dowry, Mrs. Rampling. I would have been ineligible.”
“I daresay you are right. And now you are, perhaps, just a little old, but that is not to say you should remain here. Really, London is the only place for you. After your mourning is up, you must come to visit me. I insist.”
It was kind of her, but really I could not see myself staying with such a dashing creature, whose husband had been killed in a duel while defending her honour. Still, she lent my thoughts a less lugubrious turn. My life was not over. With whatever competence Aunt Hettie had left me, I would make a new life for myself somewhere else. I would not remain buried at Downsview.
When I finally rose to show Mrs. Rampling to her room, she said, “You go on ahead, Miss Greenwood. The servants will show me to my room. Ten o’clock is a little early for me. I shall have a chat with Mr. Farr, and Gregory.”
She turned her sparkling eyes on Otto. He heeded their mute summons at once, as quickly as if she had actually spoken. I realized, then, that he had been listening to her every word.
“It is very kind of you to come to our assistance, Mrs. Rampling,” he said.
“I am glad I could be of help. You must not believe all the horrid things you hear of me, Mr. Farr. I do have a heart, you must know.”
I looked to see how Otto reacted to her coquettish manner, and saw him smiling. “
I assure you Gregory has been saying nothing but good of you, ma’am.” Then he turned to me. “Are you retiring now, Jessica?”
“Yes.”
“I shall accompany you to the stairs,” he said, and took my arm.
When we were beyond the door he said, “Well? What is your opinion of your new chaperone? You seemed to hit it off remarkably well with her. I am amazed.”
“She seems very nice and friendly,” I said, though it bothered me a little that she was equally friendly to Otto.
“Perhaps she will provide the diversion you need to keep from slipping into melancholia. Shall we bother looking for a replacement, or will you be comfortable with her for the nonce? It hardly seems worthwhile to go scouring the country for an eligible relative when you shan’t be here long. At least ...”
“I don’t know, Otto. Let us wait until the will is read, and see how things have been arranged.”
"That might be best.” He gave a “tsk” and added, “What a wretched turn-up this is. As if being sued by the Prince were not bad enough, now we are confronted with murder. Be sure to lock your door.”
I nodded and left. When I was alone in my locked room, I found myself re-thinking the evening. It was Gregory’s idea that Mrs. Rampling come, but it was Otto who had first agreed to it. Felix and Horatio had objected. And now Otto had suggested she should remain, that it was hardly worthwhile to find someone else. He had certainly been listening to her every word, and she had certainly smiled more warmly at him than at Gregory. He had admitted knowing her before. I wondered just how well he did know her.
Juteclaw had brought up the sleeping draught Doctor Culpepper had left for me. It was on my bedside table—as Hettie’s cough medicine had been on hers last night. I was afraid to take it, and had trouble getting to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
The morning was a chaotic affair, made worse for me by my lack of sleep the night before. Doctor Culpepper, the county coroner, had arranged the joint inquests for both Hettie and Mrs. Manner for eight o’clock in the morning at the Coroner’s Court at the local inn, as he knew we had the funeral to contend with that same day. Otto accompanied me on this sad journey. As I had found both bodies, I was required to give my testimony. It was mercifully brief, with a verdict of death at the hand of person or persons unknown in both cases. I had a nagging headache when I returned, and noticed that all the nephews looked hagged. Except for Mrs. Rampling, we were a sorry-looking lot. It was an unworthy and vain thought on my part, but it bothered me that she was allowed to look charming in a lustestring gown of gold and mauve stripes, while I must play the carrion crow in my mourning gown. The black bombazine had arrived, as promised. My contrived curls had dwindled to listless waves, and without dear Mrs. Manner to help me, even the waves were but indifferently arranged.