The Lady and the Lake

by Rosemary Smith

‘I’ve never seen a room like this before above a church porch. I’m sure it’s unique,’ I enthused.

  ‘It may well be, Miss Sinclair. Let me introduce you to Miss Anderson.’ The schoolteacher stopped writing on the blackboard and inclined her head towards me.

  ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Sinclair, and please meet my five young charges, Rosie, Clara, Victoria, Michael and Danny.’ She indicated the children one by one and as each name was spoken they all replied, ‘Hello, Miss Sinclair.’ I was quite touched by the whole scene.

  ‘Good morning, children,’ I replied with enthusiasm. I knew I was going to enjoy this new experience. There was a list of lessons for each day, mainly spelling, writing and arithmetic and each day they were to be taken on a short walk across the moor.

  Mr Kershaw and I left the schoolroom with the children’s farewells ringing in our ears. It was nice to step into the sunshine. I looked up into the sky which was a perfect blue. Another beautiful day was in store and I wondered how bleak the moor would look on a grey and rainy day.

  ‘I have to visit the general store for some comfits for Emily,’ Antony Kershaw’s voice drifted across to me.

  ‘Very well. May I look around the churchyard while you are gone, please? I like to look at names engraved on headstones for they all tell a story.’

  This was true. What I didn’t want to tell him was that I intended to take a closer look at the mausoleum for I was sure it was the Kershaws’ monument.

  ‘That will be fine, Miss Sinclair. I’ll be about three-quarters of an hour. Don’t trip over anything,’ he said solicitously and then added, ‘The last thing I need is a female with a sprained ankle.’

  I watched his retreating figure and didn’t know what to make of him. On the one hand he was pleasant and friendly, on the other he was aloof and distant. I walked in and out of the gravestones, weaving my way slowly towards the monument in the corner.

  I came upon a fairly new grave with just a wooden cross at its head. Bending over so I could see the name carved in the wood, I read, Annie Blake. Aged 16.

  A woman tending a grave nearby watched me as I stood up once more. Her arms were folded as she watched my progress towards her intently.

  ‘Morning,’ I called to her, ‘Another lovely day.’

  ‘For some, maybe,’ she replied abruptly, ‘But certainly not for Gladys White’s family.’ The girl who’d been pulled from the lake at Kerslake Hall, I thought.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I said sincerely, for while I didn’t know the girl, I felt compassion for her family.

  ‘Are you working up at the Hall then?’ she questioned.

  ‘Yes indeed, but I arrived only yesterday.’ As I spoke, I had neared the woman and stopped before her.

  ‘You don’t really know the Master then? Though I saw you with him just now. Thought you were one of his women until I saw you closer and realised you weren’t wearing an expensive gown.’ I was shocked at this revelation.

  ‘You are right, I’m not one of his women,’ I said, indignation rising in me.

  ‘Just as well, for he has a cruel steak in him, that one. He killed his lovely young wife as sure as I’m standing here talking to you, and I wouldn’t doubt that he killed poor Annie and Gladys, too, in his lake. God rest their souls.’

  To say I was astonished was an understatement. I was for once tongue-tied.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she continued, ‘You watch that one.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me,’ was all I managed to say and then I watched her walk to the lychgate, swinging the watering can she carried to and fro.

  As I walked towards the corner of the churchyard, my mind was in a whirl, names of people were racing through my brain, Antony, Thomas, Miss Anderson, Alice and Emily.

  Poor Emily, who loved her father so much and was so innocent. I could hardly believe it and wouldn’t believe it. He was innocent until proved guilty and there again, was he innocent?

  I’d reached my goal. The mausoleum was indeed the Kershaws’ final resting place. It was tall and stately, rising out of the ground into a triangular peak which was intricately carved. I read many names and dates, some going back to the seventeenth century, all Kershaws except one.

  The name jumped out at me, Albert Miles. Died January the 10th aged 30 years. The inscription puzzled me. Why would a Miles be buried in a Kershaw grave? Then I spotted what I think I’d been looking for.

  Phoebe Kershaw. Beloved wife of Antony Kershaw. Mother of Emily. Died July 15th, 1888. Aged 28 years.

  The day I’d arrived at Kerslake Hall, July the fifteenth, and Gladys had died that day. I was anxious to know what date Annie died, but I wasn’t to find out today, for Antony Kershaw’s voice arrested my attention.

  ‘So you found the Kershaw mausoleum then.’ As he spoke, I turned round to look at him and took a step back. Was I looking at a loving son, husband and father? Or a murderer?

  4

  Mrs Grafton pounced on me as soon as I stepped into the hall on my return. ‘The Mistress wishes to see you now,’ she said with a look of triumph on her face.

  ‘I’ll follow you then, Mrs Grafton.’ Once more the housekeeper led me to Mrs Kershaw’s sitting-room, the corridor didn’t seem so dark today.

  ‘Abigail Sinclair,’ Henrietta’s voice boomed out, It’s not enough that I have to rise early to be questioned by a young policeman, bombastic man. But that’s by the by, more importantly I find that my most recent employee, namely you, is riding around the countryside with my son who tells me that you are to teach in the schoolroom for two days.’ As she spoke the old lady pointed her cane at me.

  ‘But,’ I interrupted.

  ‘And why are you wearing a green dress when I specifically requested that you wear grey, tell me that?’

  ‘I,’ but I was not to be given the chance to explain.

  ‘Well Abigail, take the week off why don’t you, and please don’t interrupt me again. You are dismissed from my presence for the time being at least.’

  As I left the room I felt inclined to slam the door shut, but thought better of it, for bad manners would get me nowhere. I’d been well and truly trounced by an old lady who had left me bristling with anger.

  I was not therefore in a good frame of mind when I bumped headlong into Thomas Craddock.

  ‘Begging your pardon Miss Sinclair,’ he apologised, and then took my shoulders holding me at arms length. ‘Why, you look positively in the doldrums. Now what can I do to rectify that?’ His words brought a smile to my face, also the touch of his hands on my shoulders was very pleasant. ‘That’s better,’ he sighed, cupping his hand under my chin and turning my face to look at him. ‘What ails you?’

  ‘Your aunt,’ I replied peevishly.

  ‘Dear Aunt Henry? She blows cold air trust me and don’t take it to heart,’ he soothed.

  ‘Why no, I shouldn’t let her spoil the day,’ I said in agreement.

  ‘I’m afraid Miss Sinclair, the day is already spoiled by what I discovered in the lake this morning.’ At these words he looked very serious.

  ‘Yes, I did hear at breakfast time, but did not know until now who had found poor Gladys,’ I said, touching his arm in a gesture of sympathy.

  ‘It was rather a gruesome find, the poor girl was lying across the edge of the lake with her head bobbing on the water.’

  At these words I felt physically sick and could imagine the whole scene. ‘You look rather pale Miss Sinclair, I fear I’ve distressed you. Now let us put it out of our minds, how about coming with me for a walk to Thursdon Abbey?’ he suggested with enthusiasm.

  ‘Yes, I’d like that, and as I’ve been given the week off I’m sure no harm is done,’ I laughed.

  ‘Now, that’s better. Sit on this chair while I persuade Ada to pack up some sandwiches and lemonade.’ I did as he bid thinking he could charm the birds out of the trees.

  ***

  Despite being instructed to use the servants’ entrance, I found myself stepping out of the main d
oor for the second time that day, with Thomas by my side and the sun beating down. It was hard to believe that a young girl had died so recently in the vicinity.

  ‘Do you think she was murdered?’ I asked Thomas, for I was keen to know his opinion.

  ‘It’s hard to tell,’ he answered, ‘for one thing, who would want to kill her and what was she doing in the grounds of Kerslake Hall? I found her near the plaque Antony had placed in Phoebe’s memory. For that is where Phoebe was found, not far from the summer pavilion. She could have tripped over the plaque if it was dark.’ As Thomas talked we found ourselves outside the boundary of the Hall and following a hilly dirt track.

  ‘And what of Annie?’ I asked.

  ‘I do believe she was found in the same place in similar circumstances, most odd, but don’t worry your pretty head about it today.’ As he spoke we reached the top of the incline and I could see before me the ruined abbey.

  ‘What a beautiful scene,’ I said out loud, the words escaping my lips for indeed it was quite picturesque with the ruined walls and only the blue sky for a roof surrounded by green grass and the moor.

  As we continued walking, Thomas carrying the small wicker picnic basket in one hand and steadying me at the elbow with his free hand, little did he know that this was a scene that I had dreamed of for so long. To walk with a handsome gentleman on a summer’s day.

  I fervently hoped nothing would spoil it, not now or ever. We ran in and out of the ruins like children, the soft grass beneath our feet. We sat together on the grass eating sandwiches and sipping lemonade. I was hot and removed my straw hat longing to unpin my hair and let it loose.

  ‘You have such beautiful hair,’ Thomas said softly as if he’d guessed what I was thinking. He looked at his silver pocket watch and I knew that this lovely interlude would soon be over. It’s two o’clock, we must go.’ So saying he rose to his feet and caught my hand to help me up.

  ‘It’s been so nice,’ I said politely.

  ‘It has indeed and I look forward to our outing on Saturday.’

  The picnic packed away we walked slowly back to the Hall. Thomas went through the main door bidding me farewell and I made my way to the rear of the building as I intended to sit in the rose garden for a while. I felt quite lost without Thomas at my side.

  ***

  As I reached the spot which led to the lake I looked sadly at the water, but all seemed normal now with the swans gliding across it and no-one else in sight. I looked at the summer pavilion and hoped that one day soon I would sit in there. It was fortunate I didn’t know then how soon it would be nor in what circumstances.

  Stepping into the rose garden I realised I wasn’t alone, for Miss Hayward and Emily were sitting on one of the many wooden benches. Miss Hayward held a pretty sunshade over her.

  At the sight of me she raised her hand, I walked towards them surrounded by a beautiful riot of colour, red, pink, yellow and peach-coloured roses the fragrance overwhelming.

  ‘It is all right for me to sit with you for a while?’ I asked Alice.

  ‘Of course,’ and as she spoke she gently patted the seat, ‘please play with your hoop Emily, but keep to the path.’ The child did as she was bid bowling a wooden hoop along with each step, her shiny dark ringlets dancing up and down.

  ‘Have you heard the awful news, Abbey?’

  ‘About Gladys you mean? Yes, at breakfast,’ I replied, quite pleased that Alice had used my Christian name. ‘It’s quite a mystery I believe, were you here when Annie was found?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve been here since the young Mrs Kershaw had her tragic accident,’ Alice said quietly.

  ‘But she too was found in the lake, or so I understand,’ I said looking at Alice for confirmation.

  ‘That is true. What worries me is who will be next. If I wasn’t so fond of the child I would think of leaving this place.’

  At Alice’s words I mulled over whether I could confide in her about the events of last night but decided instead to try a different course.

  ‘The last two companions to the older Mrs Kershaw, why did they leave so soon?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t really know, they were both older in years than yourself. Mrs Kershaw doesn’t care for younger women or so I’ve come to believe. All I know is that neither of them was here for many days. Thinking about it, the one lady mentioned a light in the tower to Mrs Grafton, I can say no more as Emily is coming back,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Hello Emily,’ I greeted the child.

  ‘Miss Sinclair, it’s my birthday next week and I always have a party and as I’m to be ten, Papa says I can have it in the evening, will you come?’ she asked enthusiastically.

  ‘I doubt it, Emily, for one thing I haven’t got an invitation,’ I replied.

  ‘Well, I invite you, Miss Sinclair. So please come.’ I had no time to reply as Emily ran off bowling her hoop again.

  ‘Yes you must come, Abbey.’ Alice’s voice broke into my thoughts. It’s only us grown-ups with Emily and she likes us to dress up.’

  ‘How delightful, what day does it fall on?’ I asked with some interest, for no doubt Thomas would be there.

  ‘Next Thursday. It will be more fun with you there, I feel quite lost sometimes among the family, I only wish Emily had some friends, but it appears no-one from the village will come to the Hall,’ Alice said and I could see she was slipping back into her daydreaming again. ‘I must get back for the child’s afternoon tea. Emily,’ she called and the child ran obediently to her.

  After they’d gone I thought about what Alice had said during her conversation. The party was of interest, but uppermost in my mind were the words, ‘What worries me is who will be next.’ I had to admit that the thought had not crossed my mind before, but I vowed now to be vigilant at all times.

  It was getting hot, but unlike Alice I was without a sunshade and I felt lost as to what to do. If I could seek out Antony Kershaw, maybe he would be kind enough to allow me to make use of the library if indeed there was a library at Kerslake Hall.

  I decided to throw caution to the wind and enter by the side door, praying as I did so that the daunting figure of Mrs Grafton would not be around. As I stepped into the hall once more I needn’t have feared and I was in luck, for Mr Kershaw was crossing the hall, his step resounding on the black and white tiles.

  ‘Mr Kershaw,’ I approached him, ‘please don’t think me forward, but please could I make use of your library and find something to read?’

  ‘But of course, Miss Sinclair. The library here is hardly used except by myself which is quite a sad state of affairs. Please feel free to sit there whenever you wish.’ He spoke the words quite kindly and I really could not make out what kind of person he was.

  ‘Thank you so much, there is just one thing, I don’t know where to locate it.’ At this he laughed, the laughter not quite reaching his eyes.

  ‘Mrs Grafton,’ my heart sank for the housekeeper had just stepped into the hall, I could hear the keys jangling at her waist, ‘please be kind enough to show Miss Sinclair to the library. I have given my permission for her to use the room whenever she desires,’ he instructed.

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ Mrs Grafton said pleasantly enough, and so once more I followed the silent figure in grey along another corridor. She did not speak or open the door, but indicated the room with her hand and gave me such a venomous look before she retraced her steps that I felt as though she had slapped me in the face.

  ***

  The library was cool and out of the sun for which I was thankful. It was a large room with books lining the walls from top to bottom. Under the long window was a small square table with a large book placed on top of it, I was intrigued by the size of the book more than anything hence I went over to take a closer look.

  It was a family bible, with the most unusual cover I had ever seen. It had been embroidered in bright colours of red, green, yellow and blue, whoever had stitched it had worked on it beautifully. I deliberated as to whether to open it or not as I th
ought it may hold details of the Kershaw family. I was more than curious to know how old Thomas Craddock was.

  While deciding what to do, I searched the shelves for a suitable book to entertain me. A cream-coloured volume of Vanity Fair caught my eye and I picked it out then sat on a chair to look at it. I made a quick decision to borrow the book and look through the bible before anyone came in.

  Turning the lovely cover I could see there was indeed a list of family births, marriages and deaths from 1750. I quickly turned the page to find the more recent entries, at the bottom of the list was Emily, born July 25th 1880 to Antony and Phoebe Kershaw.

  Above I could see Thomas, born 1865 to Mary and Thomas Craddock. So he was the same age as me, I mused, and was about to close the bible when Henrietta Kershaw’s name caught my eye.

  She had been born in 1825 and had been born a Kershaw. This revelation surprised me somewhat and I quickly went down again to Antony, he had been born in 1855 to Henrietta Kershaw and the sadly departed Albert Miles. Quickly I closed the bible admiring once more the cover, I felt as though I’d been intrusive and regretted prying into the family affairs.

  Leaving the library, the copy of Vanity Fair in my hand, I thought that Henrietta Kershaw had no cause for all her airs and graces and sharp words, for if the bible were to be believed and it couldn’t be wrong she was indeed a Miss. For all my prying I had indeed uncovered a trump card.

  Later that evening in my room, I left the lamp burning deciding to read and be awake should there be any movement again in the tower. I read for three hours, my head eventually nodding, my eyes weary for sleep. When I was brought to by a movement behind my bed, someone was climbing the stairs.

  I slammed the novel shut and laid it on the table. Looking at the clock I could see it was five to one. I braced myself for the scream and when it came I put my fingers in my ears hardly able to bear the shrillness of it. Quickly I slipped on my robe and as quietly as I could opened my bedroom door, then stepped into the corridor making my way to the door of the tower.

  As I climbed the three stone steps I could see that the heavy door was slightly ajar. This fact alone caused me to tremble and with shaking hands I opened the door farther to enable me to take a look behind it. Thankfully the door slid open quietly and I could see stone steps to the upper floor.