Thornhall Manor

by George Benton

  Peter now realised he would need all his cunning if he were to be master of Thornhall Manor.

  “I see you have a coloured servant, Uncle.”

  “Oh, Samuel? He’s no servant, but one of the family. I was with my brother Vincent. We’d been attending a shareholder’s meeting in London, but our business was finished. We made our way to the local inn. A young boy ran past us, being chased by a villainous-looking brute. The boy tripped and this brute laid into the young lad unmercifully. Vincent took the brute by the scruff of his neck and threw him to the ground. ‘You have no right to attack me,’ said the brute. ‘I’ll have the law on you. He’s been bought and paid for to work for me.’ I took a handful of about twenty gold sovereigns from my pocket and handed them over. Then I helped the young lad to his feet. I asked him his name, but he never answered. He’s been with me ever since.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  REBECCA RETURNS TO THORNHALL MANOR

  Watching the flames and the sparks from the burning log fire, it was hard for Rebecca to realise she’d been away so long. Looking around, many things reminded her of happy times gone by, but as the weeks passed she felt torn between the two - Thornhall Manor and Rose Cottage.

  She could hear him saying, “I love you, Rebecca. Stay here. I’ve always loved you.”

  No longer did she have a brotherly love for William, but a longing to be with him for ever.

  “Rebecca, you must do what you think is right.”

  “I’ll leave tomorrow, Mother, for Thornhall Manor.”

  “I’m sure you’ve made the right decision, my dear. William will understand.”

  Rebecca knocked on the large oak door, then heard the sound of bolts being withdrawn. Slowly the door opened.

  “Thank God, Rebecca, it’s you. The master’s had a stroke and is unable to talk.”

  Tears filled her eyes when she saw his face twisted and his right arm hanging limply by his side. She gently kissed him on the cheek.

  “You must leave, Rebecca, before he returns.”

  Suddenly there was a thunderous noise and the screeching of bolts, followed by heavy footsteps.

  “Who’s leaving? You can’t leave now, my dear. My uncle needs you. He needs looking after. Did you know that if anything happens to him, Thornhall Manor, the estate and a vast fortune will be yours - not mine? Can you imagine how I felt when he told me?”

  She watched him strutting up and down, slashing the side of his breeches with his riding whip.

  “Yes, Uncle. No, Uncle. What shall we do today, Kathleen? For what? A paltry 500 guineas a month! I’ve lost more than that on the turn of a card.”

  Was this a dream? A nightmare? She hoped she would awake to find herself back at Rose Cottage.

  From his waistcoat pocket he slowly took a slip of paper.

  “I think this was meant for you: ‘Rebecca, come at once. I fear for the master. Don’t come alone. Roger.’ How fortunate that I happened upon Samuel when I did. The harm this note would have caused in the wrong hands!”

  “Rebecca, open the door. Please open the door.”

  “Go away, William. My place is here at the manor. I should never have gone to Rose Cottage. This is my home. Please go. I no longer love you. Please go.”

  “Rebecca, I love you. Don’t do this to me. Please open the door.”

  Through her tears she could see Peter, pistol at the ready. As she turned and walked away, she could hear the sound of his voice fading into the distance: “Rebecca, Rebecca.”

  “What a performance! My dear, you should have been an actress.”

  As he pushed his way past Rebecca, she could smell the stench of alcohol. Roger was fearful for his young mistress. With Peter’s heavy bouts of drinking, how long could she ward off his advances? And what had become of poor Samuel? Was there nothing he could do?

  At Rose Cottage Mary and Ned were distraught.

  “Why, Ned? Why did she go back? She seemed so happy here.”

  “We done wrong, Mary. I see that now. We sacrificed our own happiness for Kathleen’s, and in doing so we lost the love of our little girl. If it’s her wish to remain at Thornhall Manor, then it’s our sad loss once again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A SECRET PASSAGE

  He could hear the squeaking staircase, the heavy stumbling footsteps passing his bedroom door, the turn of a key, a faint scream, then silence. He felt there was nothing he could do for Rebecca.

  He could hear Peter’s voice now as he rained blows upon his back with his riding whip: “Unlock that door again and I’ll kill you.”

  Roger realised that Peter was completely mad, but he found that by disguising his true feelings he was now allowed to attend to his master’s needs.

  “You are now the master of Thornhall Manor, sir,” he told Peter.

  “Do you really think so, Roger?”

  “Definitely, sir.”

  Roger felt completely alone and utterly helpless as he watched this drunken swine night after night staggering up the stairs and along the corridor to Rebecca’s bedroom. He poured himself a brandy and sat down with his head cradled in his hands and tears in his eyes.

  ‘Oh, God, how is this happening?’

  His thoughts were interrupted by a tapping. His master needed him. To draw Roger’s attention he’d tap with one finger on the chair’s armrest. Going to him, Roger noticed he was trying to draw his attention to several books displayed above a bookcase. He tapped his finger seven times, stopped, then again seven times. An English dictionary, Gardening for Beginners, Trees of the Countryside, Vineyards in Germany, Romans in Britain, Birds of Prey, The History of Thornhall Manor. As Roger held this book in front of his master, there was a look of achievement in his eyes. He was trying to tell Roger something, but what?

  Page One, Chapter One. ‘Thorn Valley, 1712’. Roger became engrossed, reading how in 1712 John’s great-great-grandfather, William Wheeler, decided to clear away all the thorn bushes and build the manor, and how as a young man he travelled abroad, settling in Jamaica and making a vast fortune, and how he then decided to retire in England. It wasn’t until 1717, with the manor completed and named, appropriately, Thornhall Manor, that sadly at the age of sixty-eight, two years after the completion, William Wheeler died of malaria. For a brief moment Roger forgot the nightmare going on around him until ‘tap, tap, tap’, then silence, then ‘tap, tap, tap’.

  “Is it Page Three, sir?”

  ‘Tap, tap, tap.’

  “Chapter Three?”

  The tapping stopped.

  Quickly Roger turned to Page Twenty, Chapter Three: ‘Problems with Construction’. Although interesting reading, there was nothing significant until ‘It appears that whilst the manor was under construction William Wheeler insisted that an escape passage be incorporated. As far as is known, he never had reason to use it. However, his son on many occasions used the passage to evade the fury of irate husbands. . . .’

  In over thirty years’ service Roger had had no idea of the passage’s existence. Its location was a closely guarded family secret. He continued reading, page after page, but he could find no clue about the passage’s whereabouts.

  He closed the book and a feeling of utter dismay came over him. How long would his master last without proper medical attention? ‘God knows what Rebecca’s been going through!’ he thought. He did not know whether Samuel was dead or alive. Roger looked at the large clock above the fireplace.

  “It’s past your bedtime, sir.”

  How he enjoyed their one-sided conversations! Whether his master understood he had no idea.

  Roger turned and picked up the book and was about to return it to the bookcase when he stopped.

  ‘I wonder.’

  He returned to his master with the book, and pointed to the family c
oat of arms. He could see by the look in his master’s eyes that the coat of arms was important in some way.

  There were only two coats of arms on display at the manor, one over the entrance and the other on the right of the great fireplace. Could this small coat of arms be the key to the family’s secret? The family motto was ‘Press on Regardless’.

  Press on! Without a moment’s thought he pressed hard. He had no idea of the surprise he was in for. At the side of the fireplace an oak panel slid behind the bookcase to reveal the entrance to a passageway.

  Roger quickly regained his composure. He realised there was no going back now. He had to face whatever lay ahead.

  He held his master’s hand and kissed him gently on the forehead. Then, taking the lamp, he made his way into the dark passage. It was cold and damp with overhanging cobwebs. He found it frightening not knowing where it would lead. Holding the lamp high above his head, he could see that the passage turned to the right.

  As he made his way along the dark corridor he thought, ‘I can’t go on. What am I doing here? I must turn back. I’ll be imprisoned.’ To block these frightening thoughts out of his mind he thought of Rebecca, his master and Samuel. This gave him the courage he so badly needed at that time.

  He had probably been in the passageway no more than ten minutes (it seemed more like ten years) before he came upon a small door. It took all his strength to prise it open. A few more steps and he left that terrifying experience behind him. He could hear the rain and see flashes of lightning. It wasn’t long before he realised exactly where he was - the old prison room, said to be haunted. A sudden fear came over him. Someone or something had grabbed his ankle. He was terrified, unable to move.

  It was a flash of lightning that enabled him to recognise Samuel - poor Samuel! - shackled and chained to the wall. The two men hugged each other.

  “Oh, Samuel, you’re alive. Thank God!”

  “The key!” Samuel pointed to a large rusty nail from which hung the key.

  As he unlocked Samuel’s chains, he felt something run across his feet. It was a rat.

  “Oh, Samuel, I thought I’d never see you again. Poor Samuel! How can anyone be so evil! Now, Samuel, if my mind serves me right, that door leads to the woods.”

  The two of them, after a struggle, managed to open the door.

  “Now, you make for the woods. Hide, and stay there while I go to get William. God willing, maybe with his help we can end this nightmare.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  THE RESCUE

  Bang, Bang, Bang.

  “All right - I’m coming.”

  As he opened the door, Roger collapsed in his arms, drenched to the skin.

  “Is William here?”

  “I’m here,” William called from the stairs. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Rebecca, William.”

  William and his father helped Roger to his feet.

  “You must go to her. She needs your help.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “She never meant a word of what she said to you. She had to tell you to go away to save your life. Peter would have killed you. He’s mad, completely mad.”

  “Who’s mad?”

  “It’s all right, Mother. It’s Roger. Get those wet clothes off him.”

  Wrapped in a blanket, his clothes steaming in front of the fire, feeling slowly returned to his numbed fingers. He found it hard to put into words the evil he’d lived through.

  “Roger, how is Rebecca?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  William quickly buttoned his thick leather coat. The expression of disbelief on his parents’ faces turned to fear as they watched William.

  “No, William, that’s not the way.”

  “I’ll kill him,” he said as he slipped a pistol into his belt.

  With a drink in his hand and still unsteady on his feet, Peter descended the oak staircase.

  “Roger! Roger! Where the hell is he? It’s no good asking you, is it, Vincent? You couldn’t tell me if you knew, could you? It was then he noticed the opening at the side of the bookcase. Standing there, his feeling of power seemed to melt away.

  “So Roger has discovered the family’s secret.” He’d learnt what Peter, with all his charm, could not prise from Kathleen.

  He knew now it was only a matter of time before he’d be held accountable for his actions. His air of self-importance turned to fear and anger.

  “If it’s not to be me, then no one will be master of Thornhall Manor.”

  He burst open the door of Rebecca’s room and she lay limp in his arms as he carried her down the stairs and threw her on to the couch.

  He pulled back the great bolts and opened the great oak door. He then harnessed the horses to the coach. On his return he smashed a lamp on the floor. A large puddle of oil spread and then ignited.

  He picked up Rebecca, looked around then left.

  Where was she? Rebecca had no idea. She could hear the cracking of a whip and feel the jolting up and down.

  ‘How did I get here? Where am I going?’ She tried hard to remember. ‘My name? What’s my name? Why are we travelling so fast?’ She could see the trees flashing past.

  She remembered no more except a terrific noise, then silence.

  Galloping along the flooded highway, with the wind and rain lashing his face, William noticed the red glow in the sky. His worst fears seemed to have been realised.

  “Oh, God, Rebecca!”

  William reined in to steady his mount as two frightened horses bolted past, dragging their harnesses behind them. In the distance lay a coach on its side. He quickly dismounted. Rebecca had been thrown clear, but there was no movement from her when he knelt down, cradled her in his arms and brushed her thick fair hair from her face. How pale and thin she looked!

  The crack of a twig underfoot alerted him, but too late. The whip cut deep into his face. Blow after blow rained down on him. He grabbed the whip with one hand and struck out with the other, knocking Peter to the ground. He lay there motionless, blood pouring from a cut across his forehead.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  THE DOCTOR IS CALLED

  With Rebecca in his arms, William kicked at the door.

  “Oh, my God, what’s happened?”

  “Thank God you’ve found her. It’s all right, Mary - she’s all right.”

  William carried Rebecca up the stairs to her bedroom. Gently he laid her on the bed. Mary just stood staring at Rebecca as she lay there motionless.

  “Oh, God, what have they done to you?”

  It wasn’t long before Mary had her tucked up in bed. She picked up her wet clothes and made her way downstairs.

  “William, you must go to Dr Haywood. Tell him to come at once.”

  “She’ll be all right, Mary, won’t she?”

  “I hope so, Ned.”

  “First things first, Mary,” Dr Haywood said as Mary followed him back down the stairs. “I can’t do much more at the moment. The next twenty-four hours will tell. Now, William, let’s have that shirt off.” Dr Haywood listened intently whilst tending his wounds. “Hallo - what’s this?” While bathing the deep cut on his face, he noticed a birthmark high on William’s shoulder.

  “Oh, that. That’s the family birthmark. In our family the firstborn boy always has the clover mark.”

  “Thank you, Ned,” said the Doctor as Ned helped him to remove his coat when he returned the next day. “How’s our patient this morning?”

  “Doing fine. Mary’s with her now, Doctor.”

  Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Ned could hear, “Good morning, Rebecca. I hope Mary’s been looking after you.” He heard no more as the door closed.

  Ned eased himself into the fireside chair, leant
back and closed his eyes. He felt he needed these few moments to himself. He found it hard to believe the evil that had taken place at the manor. Some time later he heard the heavy footsteps of the Doctor as he made his way down the stairs.

  “Ned, when will Annie be back?”

  “Sometime next week, Doctor.”

  “The sooner the better. My concern is for Mary, Ned. She’s done wonders for Rebecca, but she needs help.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A BOY

  “I had a wonderful time - went to places I’d previously only dreamt about. Now, that’s for you, Mary, and that’s for you, Ned. These are for Rebecca. And to think I never wanted to go!”

  Annie had been on a six-month tour of Europe as a lady’s companion to Lady Newman, a friend of Kathleen and John. Annie spoke with an air of excitement about her travels, but to Mary it was just a voice in the background.

  “Mary - something’s wrong.”

  These words brought Mary back to reality.

  “Annie, I want you to sit down. I’ve got something to tell you.”

  Sitting down one minute, and nervously pacing up and down the next, she listened as Mary explained what had happened during her absence.

  “Where is she now?”

  “She’s safe in her bedroom.”

  “I must go to her.”

  “Annie, there’s something you must know first. You must prepare yourself. You will be as a stranger to her, but Dr Haywood said maybe in time her memory will return.”

  The book Rebecca had been reading fell upon the floor as Annie cuddled her in her arms and kissed her on the cheek. The look of surprise in Rebecca’s face was indeed that of a stranger. A long silence followed as both struggled to find the right words to save their embarrassment. Annie turned away, but not before Rebecca noticed the tears in her eyes. Rebecca was puzzled.