Edith spotted her mother among the crowd and rushed over to her. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘It’s Mary, she’s disappeared. Apparently she left work on Wednesday lunchtime and never came home. They’ve not seen her since at Blackfriars. Edward’s gathered all these people up to look for her. You’ve not seen her, have you?’
‘No, not at all.’ Edith felt a lump rise in her throat, as all of the unkind thoughts and feelings about her twin dissipated. How cruel you can be, Edith Mercer, she scolded herself. You wished ill harm on your sister and now it’s happened. She could be lying dead somewhere. On the verge of tears, she hurried over to Edward, who seemed to be orchestrating a small search party. ‘Edward, is it true that Mary’s vanished?’
Edward nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s so not like her, Edie. She’s been missing since Wednesday. We have to find her. Will you help?’
‘Of course.’
‘Good. Could you make your way out to my parents’ house and see if she’s there or if they’ve seen any sign of her?’
‘Okay,’ Edith answered.
‘And knock on doors on the way—there are only a few houses on the main road. If you can, have them check out-buildings, empty sheds—that sort of thing.’
‘Do you really think it’s that serious?’ Edith asked, hoping that he was simply erring on the side of caution.
He nodded. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about it.’
Edith reached out and squeezed his hand. All ill-feelings towards Edward and Mary had entirely vanished. As she looked into his sad face, she realised that her resentment towards her twin was based on jealousy rather than any real, deep feelings for Edward.
Edward smiled at Edith as she let go of his hand, turned and left the village.
As she made her way along the main road, Edith passed several people knocking on doors in the pursuit of Mary. Edward must really be in love with her to have organised all of this, she thought as she walked briskly in the midday sunshine.
There were only four properties on the less than two mile walk to Icklesham. Each was a farm, complete with a myriad sprawling outbuildings. When she reached the first property, Edith suddenly felt a little silly at the prospect of asking a stranger to search their property for her missing twin. Is this really necessary? She’s only been missing three days. Knowing Mary, she’s taken herself off somewhere to recover from the embarrassment of losing her job then she’ll swan back like nothing’s happened, wondering what all the fuss is about. It’s just like the number of times she was sent home from school for bad behaviour.
Edith paused in the gabled porch way, not quite able to lift the heavy black door-knocker. ‘Come on, Edith,’ she said to herself. ‘Mary might need you.’ She raised her hand and wrapped the semi-circle knocker onto the decorative plate behind it.
The door was pulled open by a short elderly woman with a pleasant face. ‘Hello. How can I help?’
Edith smiled. ‘Hello. Sorry to disturb you, I’m looking for my twin sister who disappeared last week. Her name is Mary Mercer and she’s my height with big red curly hair. You couldn’t mistake her. Have you seen her by any chance?’
The old woman shook her head. ‘No, definitely not seen anyone matching that description. Sorry, my love.’
‘Would you mind terribly just having a quick look in your farm buildings, just in case she’s there?’
The woman frowned, evidently not keen on the idea of searching for a trespasser. ‘I’ll have a quick look now. You wait here. If she is here, she wants to keep well out of my husband’s way, let me tell you. He doesn’t take kindly to traveller folk and itinerants on his land.’
Before Edith could interject and say that her sister was neither a traveller nor itinerant, the door was closed.
The longer she waited, the more preposterous the search felt to Edith. What really were the chances of Mary being stowed in the barn of an Icklesham farm? It made no sense.
‘Sorry, my love, nothing,’ the old woman said when she eventually returned. ‘Good luck—hope you find her. We’ll keep an eye out.’
‘Thanks,’ Edith said, and turned back to continue her walk along the main road.
After the second, then third and fourth farmhouse all returned the same negative outcomes, Edith became more apprehensive. For her part of the search being carried out, everything relied on her aunt and uncle having seen or heard from Mary since Wednesday.
Her aunt and uncle lived in a small white weather-boarded cottage close to Icklesham church. Again, Edith was hesitant about knocking. In the window, she caught sight of her aunt who seemed perplexed to see her.
‘Edith! What are you doing here? Just out for a walk?’ her aunt called through the open window.
‘Not really, I’m looking for Mary. Can I come in?’
Her aunt opened the door and, at the sight of her warm familiarity, Edith burst into tears.
‘Oh my poor thing, whatever’s the matter? Come inside.’
Despite the clear skies that had mercifully dominated the day, at just after seven-thirty the day began to give way to the night. Edward and the few remaining searchers were standing on Friar’s Road outside the Mercer family home, anxious with despair. None of them had spoken for several minutes, each too absorbed with their own theories and conclusions, drawn from the outcome of the day’s searches: nobody had discovered anything. Edward had no new leads to go on—there had been absolutely no sightings at all of Mary since Wednesday. To him, it seemed as though she had been plucked from the face of the earth, which worried him immensely. He could cope with her running away, even if it did mean the end of their courtship. What he couldn’t cope with was the idea that something untoward had happened to her. He couldn’t shake an unpleasant recurring thought: that Mary was lying dead somewhere where she would never be found. That idea had haunted and clouded his every thought. There was now only one possibility left for today and that was Edith. She had yet to return from Icklesham. The fact that she had been so long heartened Edward; he kept expecting the two of them to waltz in, arm-in-arm with a tale to tell.
The streets grew darker, the darkness bringing with it a stark chill in the air. Edward could only just make out the corner of the street and was now starting to worry about Edith. Should he go and search for her now?
‘What’s taking her so long?’ Edith’s mum asked, evidently thinking the same as he was. ‘She should’ve been home hours ago.’
‘You don’t think the pair of them are up to something?’ Caroline mused.
Edward bit his lip through fear of saying something he might regret. All day Caroline had strutted around, huffing, puffing and complaining that the searches were a waste of time.
‘Don’t be so silly, Caroline. Why don’t you go inside and check on your father.’
Caroline did as suggested and disappeared.
‘Is that her?’ Edward said, suddenly seeing movement at the corner of the road. He strained his eyes through the dusky gloom to see, as the figure drew closer. It was Edith. Alone. With a despondent look on her face. Edward knew that if she had any news at all, then it wasn’t good.
‘Anything, Edie?’ her mother called as she approached them.
‘No,’ Edith said. Her voice was edged with despair.
‘What took you so long?’ Edward asked.
‘Your mum had a photo of Mary, so we went door to door in Icklesham but nobody has seen her. I even went back to the farms that I had called into on the way there to show them the photo, but nothing. Has nobody seen her in the village or around the estate?’
‘No,’ Edward said, almost inaudibly. ‘Nothing. She’s vanished.’
‘I think we need to call it a day for today,’ Edith’s mother said. ‘I can barely see the hands in front of me. Come on, let’s go in and have some supper. I’m sure we’re worrying too much, you know. I’m sure she’ll wander in all sheepish and we’ll look back on this day and laugh at how we set the whole village out looking for her.’
Edward and Edith offered their best attempts at a smile but everyone knew that Mary’s situation didn’t look good.
The setting of the sun that day left a darkness that the Mercer family would feel for years to come.
Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday 19th April 1911
The sun was beginning to burn off a thin mist which had blown up from a squally sea. Slivers of sunlight began to slip in through the panes of the Mercer kitchen window. Edith was sitting with her mother. Both of them were silent. It had been exactly one week now since Mary’s disappearance and, as each day gave way into the next without word from her twin, Edith had been growing more and more anxious. Today was their eighteenth birthday, a milestone that they should be sharing together, just as they had shared every previous birthday. In her heart, Edith knew that Mary wasn’t going to come home today. She had no clue at all as to her whereabouts but she just felt her absence inside. If Edward’s theory that she had fallen and injured herself was correct, then by now… she couldn't bring herself to think the worst. It was just too awful to contemplate.
A clattering of the letterbox and the dull thud of post tumbling to the floor sent Edith dashing into the hallway. Among a pile of birthday cards, she spotted a letter addressed to her parents. It was Mary’s handwriting. She dropped the cards and picked it up, turning it over in her hands, then took it to her mother, who was kneading dough in the kitchen. ‘Something for you; it’s from Mary.’
‘Oh, thank God!’ her mother cried.
Edith watched anxiously as her mother tore open the letter.
Suddenly, her mother let out an awful cry. ‘She’s in Scotland and she says she’s never coming home!’
Edith snatched the letter and, with quaking hands, carefully read it. Dear Mother and Father, It is with great sadness and shame that I write you this letter. I have behaved and acted in an unforgivable manner, which, if you were to learn of the whole matter, would bring embarrassment to the Mercer name. Please know that in taking on the role of housemaid at Blackfriars, I only wanted to earn your love and respect. In this, I have failed and ask that you respect my decision to leave Winchelsea. I hope to start a new life in Scotland, where I may be disconnected from the life and pains of Mary Mercer. I pray that I will one day receive your forgiveness. Your loving daughter, Mary.
‘What on earth’s she doing in Scotland?’ her mother wailed.
‘Whatever’s happened?’ Edith’s father barked from the doorway. He was half-dressed, standing in his underpants, socks and a ragged shirt. His beard and hair were shabby and matted—the same as he looked every day, irrespective of visitors or occasions. Behind him stood an agitated-looking Caroline.
Edith looked up at her sister and father. ‘We’ve had a letter from Mary. She’s in Scotland and she says she’s not coming back.’
Her father walked over, grabbed the letter and begun to read with Caroline peering over his shoulder. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked his wife. ‘Reads to me like the most sensible thing she’s ever done.’ He tossed the letter down onto the kitchen table and hobbled back upstairs.
‘But she didn’t do anything this bad,’ Edith muttered quietly. ‘She only tried on Lady Philadelphia’s dress. From this letter you’d think she’d killed someone.’
‘Maybe she’s done something else that we don’t know about,’ Caroline mused.
Edith flung her head around to face Caroline. She had heard enough. ‘Maybe you should shut up and go back to Bristol. What are you still doing here? Nobody wants you! Go away!’ Edith screamed, flinging back her chair and reaching for Mary’s letter. With a great deal of force she barged past Caroline, sending her to the floor as she dashed for the door.
‘You horrible little urchin!’ Caroline yelled. ‘You want horse-whipping!’
‘Bloody cow!’ Edith yelled, as she slammed the front door shut behind her.
Edith's eyes were wet with tears as she crossed into the Blackfriars estate, clutching the letter from Mary. She still couldn’t believe it. Mary was in Scotland. Something about Mary’s tone told her that all was not well. It just didn’t sound like her. She dreadfully wanted the letter to be real because then at least it meant that she was okay.
Edith reached the kitchen door to Blackfriars house and recalled when she had last stood here on a cold day in January, ready for her job interview. Her life had been about to begin. Since then her world had seemed to collapse: Mary had taken her job; her brother-in-law, William had died, leaving her horrid sister, Caroline living with her; her mother had caught tuberculosis; her father had suffered with a severe bout of melancholia; Mary had taken the man with whom Edith had thought that she was destined to be and now this. What have I done to deserve such an awful time? Edith wondered.
She knocked on the door.
‘Oh, hello,’ Mrs Cuff said warmly. She was smartly dressed in her full housekeeper’s black uniform. ‘Any news on your sister yet?’
Edith nodded and Mrs Cuff noticed that she was upset.
‘You’d better come in, then. Come to my room for some privacy.’
Mrs Cuff stood to one side and allowed Edith into the busy kitchen. It was strange, the room sounded and smelt exactly the same as three months ago. Servants were coming and going according to the orders being barked at them by the rotund French chef, as a variety of interesting-smelling foods boiled on the hot stove behind him. One of the maids, Joan Leigh, cast a curious eye in her direction, but the rest were too absorbed in their own work to notice her. Mrs Cuff closed the door and led Edith through the kitchen, down the corridor to her room. Taking out her large bunch of keys, Mrs Cuff unlocked the door and indicated for Edith to enter.
‘We’ve had a letter from Mary. It says she’s in Scotland,’ Edith began. ‘But…I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right to me.’
‘What’s she doing in Scotland?’
Edith thought it would be much simpler if Mrs Cuff actually read the letter, so she handed it over. ‘Have a read.’
‘Are you sure? It’s private.’
‘Go ahead.’
A short silence hung in the room as Mrs Cuff read the letter. She looked up. Edith could see that she felt the letter to be justified, given what Mary had done. ‘I know it must be impossible for you to accept that your sister—your twin sister—is so very far away and has expressed her feelings like this, but at least you know that she’s safe and well.’
‘It doesn’t feel right,’ Edith said, although she was unable to express exactly why it felt that way.
‘Do you not think she wrote it, then?’
‘Yes, it’s definitely her handwriting,’ Edith began. Finally, she felt able to articulate something of her uncertainty. ‘It’s just not her words or her turn of phrase. Not to mention that she wouldn’t just run away like that after being caught wearing someone else’s clothes. It doesn’t add up.’
Mrs Cuff seemed a little taken aback at Edith’s nonchalance towards Mary’s misdemeanour. ‘I think Lady Rothborne felt her transgression to be quite a serious matter. Then there was the dishonesty about it.’
‘What do you mean?’
Mrs Cuff shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Having been caught, your sister refused to admit that her actions were of her own doing.’
Edith’s inquisitive face implored Mrs Cuff to continue.
‘She insisted that Lady Rothborne had encouraged her to try on outfits that she could wear at her wedding to Edward.’
Edith could tell from her face that Mrs Cuff found even the retelling of the story to be so fanciful as to not justify the breath taken to say it. ‘But…’
‘I know, it’s absurd. From reading this,’ she said, holding up the letter, ‘I would say it was the guilt over her insincerity that prompted her shame.’
Edith was dumbstruck. Ever since she could remember, Mary had always been prone to impulsive, often fanciful outbursts. Trying on Lady Rothborne’s clothes was entirely the kind of silly thing Mary would do on a whim. But to
lie about it afterwards with such a bizarre tale struck Edith as very out of character. ‘Did anyone check with Lady Rothborne?’ Edith ventured, knowing full well that she was risking stepping into dangerous territory.
Mrs Cuff took a moment to navigate the potential storm diplomatically. ‘A full investigation was undertaken and everybody concerned given a fair hearing. As part of that, yes, Lady Rothborne was consulted.’
There was nothing more for Edith to say on the matter. She now needed to inform Edward about the letter. ‘May I speak with my cousin, Edward, please?’
Mrs Cuff nodded. ‘If you would like to wait here, I shall fetch him to you,’ she said, making her way out of the room. As she reached the door, she turned back towards Edith. ‘I am sorry, Miss Mercer. I was quite fond of your sister.’
Edith smiled politely and watched as Mrs Cuff disappeared from the room. As she sat in the stillness of the housekeeper’s room, she replayed what she had just been told about Mary’s actions. Coupled with the letter, Edith’s discomfort grew. Then an idea came into her mind that she was unable to shake. What if a clue to Mary’s disappearance was in this very room? She was sure that the Day Book, signed off religiously each and every Sunday by the housekeeper and butler, would be stored in this room. Don’t be so silly, Edith! But the idea persisted and her heart began to race. As if being controlled by somebody else, Edith stood up and walked over to the door. Gently, she pulled it open and stuck her head into the corridor. Silent and empty. The sound of footsteps on the stone floor would give her plenty of notice of anyone approaching. It was now or never. Edith took a breath and rushed over to a large bureau and opened the doors. It was filled with paperwork, ledgers and files. Exactly the right kind of place. Her fingers clumsily began picking through the shelving. She knew the Day Book would be quite a large official-looking document, so she ignored individual loose papers or published books.
‘Here it is!’ Edith whispered, her hands resting on a soft velvet ledger. She quickly flicked to the last completed week and read the entry for Wednesday. Lady Philadelphia and some of the female staff returned prematurely from the hunting trip to Scotland. Lady Philadelphia suffering from morning sickness. Discovered one of the housemaids, Mary Mercer, in Lady Philadelphia’s bedroom, wearing her finest ball gown and some of the most precious Mansfield jewellery. Servant immediately dismissed. Replacement currently being sought. Lady Philadelphia much improved upon return to Blackfriars. Mrs Cuff.
The Lost Ancestor (The Forensic Genealogist series Book 2) Page 21