She found the journey a bit more difficult, as the woods were clogged with underbrush, moss, and ferns. She needed to remind the gardener to clear the underbrush in this area. Continuing on, she came to the small stream Tom had mentioned. She vividly recalled Win having brought her here on a summer evening, kissing her wildly. That was before they’d eloped to Gretna Green. Whoever would have thought their beautiful love story would end the way it had? She had loved him so.
She followed the stream until it made the turn to the right. From there, she had no difficulty finding the old, knurled tree, with the seat built to encircle its trunk. It must have been a favourite trysting place for eons, because there were literally dozens and dozens of initials carved into it. In the past she had only been there at night and had never seen the display that long-ago lovers had left behind.
Searching, she found those that Win had carved for them. W loves J. Not far from Win’s carving, she saw that his own parents had once visited this spot. R loves B was quite clearly inscribed there. Appropriate dates were carved beneath the initials. Would someday Andy and a special girl carve their own initials into this special place?
She sat and let her mind wander to those far off days, when everything seemed possible and no obstacles stood in the way of absolute happiness. When she finally stood, tears were streaming down her face. Only a short distance away, she found what she had been looking for.
No one would ever be able to ascertain that it was indeed a grave. Radcliffe and Tom had done a superb job. It simply appeared to be another spot in the vast forest where some wild flowers bloomed. The ground was perfectly flattened. The only way suspicion might ever be raised was if Scotland Yard were to bring dogs to search the property. That seemed highly unlikely. The detectives appeared to be investing their full attention to the probability that Oliver had truly managed to escape.
David Carlisle had notified the estate manager that one of the family automobiles had come up missing after the gathering of guests who attended the funeral had departed. They had little doubt that the culprit had been Oliver. Only he would have known where the garages were and how to obtain the keys. Plus, there had been tyre marks on the gravelled drive directly from the garage to the main road that ran past the manor. The auto had not yet been located. After Radcliffe and Tom had disposed of Oliver, they’d abandoned the automobile Oliver was thought to have stolen. Radcliffe had followed Tom in the Rolls Royce, and then both returned to Winthrop Manor. Supposedly, the detectives intended to return to speak with her later that afternoon.
Josephine stood for a long while at the place where Oliver lay, remembering his body covered with stab marks that she had made. The entire incident seemed far away. Of course, she was well aware that many would label her a murderess. It was true. That’s what she was. Nevertheless, she felt absolutely no regret and only wished she might have had the opportunity to grab the knife sooner, before he was able to rape her.
Rape! What a disgusting, foul word. Of course, she’d heard of such things, but not once in her life had she thought she might someday be a victim of that abhorrent act. Win, in his gentleness, had always been so kind with her. How in the world those two men had been born of the same parents would forever remain a mystery. Shaking her head sadly, she turned and walked back toward the manor. On the way, picked an enormous bouquet of daffodils.
When she reached the manor, it was tea time. Even though she had consumed a large breakfast only a couple of hours earlier, she found that she had an appetite again. She wandered into the dining room, where Elisabeth, Tom, Andy and, to her great surprise, Uncle Roderick sat. She had planned to find time to ride over to his cottage that very afternoon. She loved him so, and it pained her to see the signs of old-age approaching. He seemed to have aged overnight when the news of Win’s death arrived. He’d loved the Win, as if he were his own son. Josephine scurried around to where he was seated, giving him a huge hug and many kisses.
“Oh, Uncle, I’m delighted to see you. I had so little time to see you following Win’s services. I am well aware that you don’t particularly care for large, social events, and I want to thank you for putting forth the effort to be there.”
He planted a kiss on her cheek and said that he had been there because Win was like a son to him, and because she was, and always would be, the light of his life.
“I had intended to ride over and pay you a visit this afternoon. Oh, Uncle, now that I’ve lost Win, would you consider moving here to Winthrop Manor?” Josephine implored. “Time goes by so rapidly, and it’s important to me that we spend as much together as possible.”
He smiled and patted her hand. “Dear girl, I’ve lived at Rose Cottage for nigh on fifty years. It’s where I still have memories of Thelma and even of you and Andrew when you first came to me, bereft at the tragic loss of your parents. I have too much emotion invested in that little abode. I promise we’ll spend as much time together as feasible, but I’ve made my plans and they might as well be carved in stone.” He laughed. “My life is happy and content. I see the widow, Lucy, whom I met the night you and Win officially announced your engagement. We’ve even discussed marriage, but both of us are set in our ways, and can’t imagine having to start again learning to live with another wife or husband.”
Josephine had to laugh at that. She heartily agreed that such a thought was implausible. Though she was still a young woman, only twenty-nine years, she couldn’t imagine ever feeling about another man the way she had about Win. It was inconceivable that she would ever remarry.
They all ate Mrs. Boyle’s delicious shepherd’s pie and freshly baked bread. The estate manager, Ronald Rae, and the land agent, Donald Jones, were also present at the table. Josephine made it clear that she wished for definite dates to be decided upon for a sit-down with Ronald and a look at the account books. She also wanted Andy to have a long discussion with Ronald. Andy had to begin learning the intricacies necessary to oversee such a large holding.
As they continued chatting throughout tea, Roderick brought up the subject of Oliver. Josephine couldn’t help it–her stomach somersaulted.
“Why in the world they allowed that scalawag ‘compassionate’ time to attend his brother’s funeral is beyond me,” remarked Roderick.
Heads nodded around the table. “Well, you know, Uncle, he has always been a terribly manipulative man. I imagine he managed to convince the authorities that he would be devastated if forced to remain in a prison cell while his only brother was being laid to rest. The truth is, they never gave a whit about one another. Win told me many times how very disappointed his parents were with Oliver. Win had great difficulty having a civil relationship with him.” She took another forkful of the delicious pie.
“Yes, well, he is my only remaining brother, and I suppose I ought to feel badly about him disappearing,” exclaimed Elisabeth. “Nonetheless, if I’m totally honest, I was never able to feel close to him. All he’s ever cared about is money, titles and the like. Win and I were never like that. I think the final straw was when I married Tom and Win married Josephine. Oliver got it into his head a long time ago that someday he would still end up as the next earl. I know he didn’t expect Win to survive the Great War, and while it’s unimaginable, I believe he hoped Win would never return. That’s why he concocted that horrendous scheme to get Andy out of the picture. His disappearance would have paved the way for him to succeed our father.”
Everyone nodded their heads. It was truly befuddling to anyone with morals and a conscience.
“Where do you suppose he’s managed to escape to?” asked Tom.
“My guess would be London or possibly Liverpool,” answered Roderick. “He’ll undoubtedly try to make it to another country. If he can board a ship, he could probably get to Australia, Canada, or America. It’s unlikely, in that case, he’ll ever be found.”
“I say good riddance,” said Andy.
Josephine looked up, a bit startled. “Darling, I had no idea you disliked Oliver.”
&
nbsp; “Mother, I’ve known about his attempted kidnapping of me for a long time. How could I possibly respect or trust such a scoundrel?”
“I wasn’t aware you knew much about that time,” she answered. “You were so small. I’d hoped you weren’t aware of it.”
“It’s always been spoken about rather freely,” he went on. “Daddy sat me down one time and explained everything to me.”
Relief washed through Josephine. It seemed odd that Win had never mentioned the conversation to her, but perhaps he felt it was private between him and his son.
When tea was complete, everyone went their separate ways. Roderick returned to his cottage with promises that he would see Josephine soon; Donald Jones and Ronald Rae followed Josephine and Andy to the office, where appointments were marked on the calendar for meetings.
Josephine studied the calendar more closely after the two men departed and spoke with her son about a convenient time for a trip to London to ready him for school. Though still not spectacularly happy at the idea of returning to his studies, he accepted the path his father had followed. It was the same one Andy wished to pursue. When he turned thirteen, he would be off to Eton, but he still had three years before that change.
“How about next week?” Josephine asked him. “I’ve nothing urgent. We could take the train to London and spend a few days there. Perhaps we’ll take in the theatre, as well as outfitting you? Would you like that?”
“Yes, Mummy, that sounds wonderful. Did you receive a letter from the school about the clothes I’m going to need?” Andy asked.
“Yes. I have it on my desk in the master bedroom. I’ll make certain you have everything necessary to make a proper entry.”
“I expect I will,” Andy replied. “I just know that I’m going to worry a lot about you without Father to watch over you.”
“Sweetheart, I’m a strong person. I shan't be the slightest fearful of being alone here. Well, really Andy. I won’t actually be alone. Goodness! You’ll be home every night. There’s an entire staff of people seeing to my every need. And don’t forget Uncle Roderick. He’ll be here if I need someone, as will your Uncle Tom and Aunt Elisabeth.”
“I just worry that Oliver will return and try to harm you,” he replied.
“That would be the most foolish thing he could ever do. Scotland Yard has already informed me that they are going to assign a special guard to the house. We shall be well-protected, so put any thoughts like that right out of your head.”
Andy smiled and looked relieved. “Oh, that is jolly good news. I feel better knowing that. I am getting excited about going to school. It’s rather lonely here for a boy my age. It will be nice to meet new chums.”
“Of course, I know. When I first moved to Hampshire from London, I felt like a fish out of water. So did my brother, Andrew. But, we had each other, which helped a lot. So, I’m thrilled to see you return to classes.” She smiled.
“You’re smashing, Mummy. I’m so sorry you lost Daddy. Nevertheless, I do believe you’ll be fine.” He came ‘round the desk and gave her a big hug and kiss. “I love you, Mum. I hope I can find someone as special as you are someday. That’s another thing Father told me.”
“What did he tell you about finding someone special?” she asked.
“That I was never to pay attention to foolish things like titles and heritage. They aren’t important. He told me to wait until I fall madly in love with someone. I asked him how I’d know if I was in love, and he just said I would. I intend to follow his advice.”
Josephine tried not to burst into tears. She held her son close to her heart and told him he couldn't go wrong if he only mirrored his father’s behaviour.
She had been correct to predict that Scotland Yard would never think to search the Winthrop Manor property looking for Oliver. They stopped at the house later that morning and assured her once again that they felt certain he’d made his way to an English port, where he undoubtedly had boarded a ship. He was probably far away from the British Isles, en route to Australia, America, or Canada. The detectives said that the auto had been discovered, and they were certain that Oliver had taken a train to his final destination.
Chapter Ten
The following Friday, David delivered Josephine and Andy to London in their quest to complete the shopping necessary for Andy to be outfitted appropriately for his first year of attendance at the Winfield Academy. It was not a difficult chore. Harrods had a complete department dedicated to uniforms expected to be worn at English public schools. All the necessary items were grouped in one area of the massive store, and in no time Andy had been completely outfitted in the jackets, trousers, shorts, shirts, ties, and coats required. Naturally, tailoring was necessary, and they made arrangements to have the clothing sent to Winthrop Manor.
It was a relief to Josephine to have that chore accomplished. It was still only June, and Andy would not be starting classes until late August, but it was one more thing she could check off her list. Andy was ten years old, but it was awfully hard for her to accept that. He was tall for his age and already showed signs of a vivid likeness to his father. Perhaps because he had spent the majority of his life around adults, he had a much larger vocabulary than she might have expected from a child his age.
While in London, she also visited an estate agent’s office, where she listed the townhouse on Curzon Street for sale. This was not a sad task for her. The memories of that last night were dreadful, and she had no desire to ever set foot in the home again. The agent she dealt with felt the house would sell rather quickly as the location was desirable and the house was in tip-top condition. She intended to sell it fully furnished. There were a few antiques she wished to move to the country, but most of the items were of little sentimental value–especially the beastly bed.
Andy knew none of the details about what had taken place the night of his father’s death. Josephine had no intention of ever letting him know the dreadful scene that had erupted, nor Oliver’s ensuing assault of his mother, followed by the surreptitious burial. She prayed he would never have to face the truth about such a ghastly affaire. She trusted Tom, Elisabeth, and Radcliffe with every fiber of her being and could foresee no reason that her precious son should ever learn the truth.
After two days visiting the capital, she and Andy returned to Winthrop Manor. The mood in the house was still solemn. The staff had lost the member of the family they’d loved more than any other. They missed his laughter and the jesting that always accompanied his presence. They held great compassion for Josephine. She was still a young, beautiful lady, and most everyone knew she had looked forward to filling that wonderful, old house with a new generation of children who would carry on the stately family name. Obviously, that was never to be.
Josephine settled into a routine. She met with Mrs. Shellady each Monday morning to plan the meal menu and also with the estate agent to go over expenses and discuss foreseeable needs. Everything looked to be in an excellent state of affairs. She was particularly appreciative that she did not have to worry about the god-awful debts Win had run up with his gambling obsession. The estate would show a healthy profit, in spite of the general downturn in economic conditions in England. That was one worry she didn’t have to face. She was terribly grateful to Uncle Roderick for having taught her the value of a pound as well as the skills necessary to read a profit and loss statement.
Not long after her trip to London, she received a call from the real estate agent with whom she had listed the townhouse on Curzon Street. She’d received a quite nice offer on the property, and Josephine quickly accepted it. One more task was checked off her list.
As the summer of 1925 wore on and September arrived, Josephine was well aware that there had been no monthly menses since Win’s death. She had not been overly concerned, attributing the lack of her monthly to the mental shock associated with the loss of her husband and the ghastly rape.
However, she began to worry. She made the decision to visit a gynecologist in London. In
stead of asking David to drive her, she chose to take the train, for she certainly had no wish for him to know her final destination. She used the excuse that she had to meet with the real estate agents about the townhouse on Curzon Street. Some members of the family couldn’t understand why she preferred the railway over the comfort of being chauffeured in a Rolls Royce, but she simply stated that it was a nuisance for David to have to make the journey. She said that she rather enjoyed the train.
After leaving the physician’s office on that crisp, autumn day, she was in complete shock. The doctor had told her that he was certain she was, indeed, expecting a child. It could not have been Win’s baby. She was absolutely positive. They had not had relations since long before the date necessary for a child to have been conceived. That left only one possibility. That gruesome, disgusting pig, Oliver, had planted his seed inside of her. According to the physician, she was a little over four months gone and should expect a delivery date of February the tenth, 1926.
After she’d absorbed the shock, Josephine remembered mornings she’d felt nauseated and even lightheaded and faint. Nevertheless, at the time, she’d never thought to attribute such signs to pregnancy. There’d been so much upset in her life. Surely that had been the reason for physical distress. But she now knew that the physical expression of pregnancy was the cause. She knew what she would have to do. She would lie and say the child had been conceived before Win’s death. Dear God, how she wished that were the truth.
She never considered, for even a moment, the possibility of ending the pregnancy. She also could not imagine the remote possibility of feeling love for the baby she carried. Besides, an abortion was a terribly dangerous procedure. She was well aware that women routinely died from botched operations. She would never have done anything to cause Andy to lose the only parent he had left. Besides, it was not the baby’s fault that it had been conceived in such an evil manner.
War Comes Home to Winthrop Manor: An English Family Saga (Winthrop Manor Series Book 2) Page 8