01 - Murder at Ashgrove House

by Margaret Addison

  ‘It’s no good, my mind is quite made up. Do you think I have done anything but think and think since I arrived and saw who was here? This is my one chance to reveal the truth and hold that woman to account. She has destroyed our lives and now I am going to make her pay.’

  ‘Edith, I know you want justice –‘

  ‘Justice? Why, if there was any justice in this world, she’d be dead! I want to make her pay for what she did and I’m going to make her, even if it means killing her myself!’

  ‘Edith! Don’t say such a thing, even in jest.’

  ‘Who says I’m jesting? I mean it. I’ll do whatever it takes and to hell with the consequences. For all these years I have done exactly what everyone has told me to, to make amends for my great wrongdoing. And God knows I have suffered for it. I have lost my only child in a war that was supposed to end all wars, but what a sacrifice!’

  ‘I know, Edith, you’ve been through much and it’s not fair. But think what you’d be giving up. You have a husband who loves you –‘

  ‘Harold, dear Harold, he deserves so much better than me. But I’ve got to do it; this might be my only opportunity.’

  ‘Is there nothing I can say that will stop you?’

  ‘No. If I don’t do it now, I shall die.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing more to say. On your head be it, Edith.’ These words were said so decisively, that Rose knew instinctively that the gentleman was on the verge of leaving. This placed her in a dilemma for she had little doubt that the conversation that she had unwittingly overhead was intensely private and she did not want to be taken for an eavesdropper. She retreated further back from the entrance and, spotting some densely planted shrubs, she crouched down behind them hoping that she would be hidden.

  As it happened, though she was not to know, the gentlemen in question was so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not look about him once, but instead strode across the grass back in the direction of the house. Rose waited a couple of minutes before she stood up cautiously. Edith evidently had decided to remain where she was on the croquet lawn a little longer, no doubt to avoid a casual observer from witnessing them returning to the house together. Confident now that she would not be seen by Edith, Rose looked back towards the house and to the man striding towards it. He was quite some way away from her by now, but even so she could tell at once who it was. She thought back to the night before and the look of anguish that had crossed Lady Withers’ face. It seemed to Rose now that her look of distress had been justified, for the man who had arranged what must surely have been a secret assignation with Edith, was none other than Sir William.

  Rose made her way back to the house in a daze, hardly able to believe what she had just overheard. Had it not been for the fact that she had seen Sir William with her own eyes, she would not have believed him complicit in such deception. He had seemed to her genuinely fond of his eccentric, absent-minded wife, but it appeared that this was not the case and that Lady Withers herself had her own suspicions.

  Rose thought back to dinner the previous night and remembered how Sir William had bent forward to make sure that Edith was alright, a gesture Lady Withers had correctly identified as one of affection. She deduced from what she had heard that Edith intended to confront Lady Withers with the truth and now presumably it would be up to Sir William to decide whether he should tell his wife about his relationship with her old school friend or wait for Edith to do so. Either way did not bode well, but while it was a tragic situation, Rose told herself that she must remember that it was not her tragedy. Even so, she could not help wondering what would happen when the truth was out, whether the marriage would survive or end in divorce, and her thoughts turned to Lavinia and Cedric and the effect that it would have on them, given that they regarded Sir William and his wife as parent figures, making up for the deficiencies of their own.

  Whatever happened in the future, at this moment in time she did not want to run the risk of bumping into Sir William as they both made their way back to the house. To ensure that this did not happen, she decided to veer off into the kitchen garden and stay there a few minutes; she could always count the different types of herbs. She strode on with renewed purpose, turned a corner and ran straight into a servant who was weeping bitterly.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, miss,’ sniffed Edna, mopping ineffectually at her eyes with the back of her hand to try and disguise the fact that she had been crying. ‘I didn’t see you there. I didn’t think anyone would be about at this hour, certainly not one of the guests, like.’

  Rose studied her curiously. Edna made a pitiful sight with her tear stained face and strands of black hair escaping untidily from under her mop cap. She was probably fourteen, Rose guessed, although she looked little for her age and her uniform was a couple of sizes too big as if she was still expected to grow into her dress. There were smudges on her apron too of what looked like black-lead.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Rose, kindly.

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing, miss, really, but it’s awful kind of you to ask. It’s just Mrs Palmer, she’s the cook-housekeeper here, well she’s always down on me like a ton of bricks, she is. Nothing I do is ever right. It’s bad enough when it’s a normal day what with her going on about me not polishing the grate enough, or the legs of the kitchen table not gleaming even after I’ve scrubbed them down with soap and soda for all I’m worth. Me hands are that red and raw miss, what with scrubbing the steps and the kitchen dresser and kitchen cupboards and the floors. .And I’ve got all the washing up to do, including the pots and pans, and what with this house party, Mrs Palmer’s got me preparing all the vegetables too and working all hours to help her get the meals ready. She’s said that everything’s got to be just right on account of the countess and Lord Sneddon being here. Lady Belvedere’s awful fussy about her food, miss and Mrs Palmer says how we aren’t to let her ladyship down, that Lady Withers, miss. But I’ve got so much to do, I just don’t know where to start and I’m that tired miss, I really am.’

  Edna gulped and her eyes filled with tears again. Visibly moved by her plight, Rose felt compelled to put her arm around her shoulders. ‘There, there, I wish I could help in some way, but I’m not sure what I can do. What’s your name?’

  ‘Edna, miss. There’s nothing you can do miss; I expect I’m just being silly. My mother says that if I buckle down and work hard I can be a cook myself someday, that’s my dream, like. Oh no, is that the time?’ Edna exclaimed, suddenly catching sight of the time on Rose’s wristwatch. ‘I must go or Mrs Palmer will have my guts for garters, she will. Thanks awfully, miss, for putting up with all my moaning. I feel a whole lot better now, truly I do. You won’t tell anyone, will you? I know I’m awful lucky to have this job really, what with all those people out of work.’ And before Rose had even had a chance to say goodbye, Edna had hitched up her skirt and was running full pelt back to the kitchen and to Mrs Palmer’s sharp tongue.

  Rose was dreading breakfast and having to see Lord Sneddon again. However, it soon became apparent that the gentleman in question either had no recollection of his conduct of the night before, or wished to act as if nothing untoward had occurred. This suited Rose’s purpose, for she had now resolved to say nothing of the incident to Lavinia and wanted instead to focus on enjoying the weekend. So she helped herself with relish to bacon, eggs and devilled kidneys from the silver chafing dishes on the sideboard, supplemented by coffee and hot toast served by the footman.

  Besides herself and Lord Sneddon, Lavinia, Cedric and Sir William were the only other members of the household and guests present. Lady Withers, Lady Belvedere and Edith, as married women, were enjoying the privilege of breakfasting in bed. Once or twice Rose sneaked a glance at Sir William, but although he seemed a little preoccupied, he did not appear unduly anxious or worried. It was only when she was halfway through breakfast that Rose realised Lord Belvedere was not there.

  ‘Father breakfasted earlier this morning,’ explained Cedric. ‘He was keen to continue wi
th his cataloguing of Uncle’s books. You’d think he’d get bored of it, wouldn’t you. It’s a pity to be cooped up indoors on a day like this. Speaking of which, Hugh and I were just discussing whether or not to play croquet this morning. Do you play at all? It’s much more fun with four than two and you’re always up for a game, aren’t you, Sis?’

  Rose admitted rather sheepishly that she had never played croquet before and wouldn’t know where to start.

  ‘Not to worry,’ said Cedric, reassuringly. ‘The rules are very straightforward. You have a ball and a mallet and the aim of the game is to be the first to hit the post having gone through a series of hoops. Of course you do try to croquet your opponents to advance your progress around the course and send them back, but I’ll explain all that once we get out there, as well as telling you what it is to roquet someone.’

  It transpired that Sir William had some affairs of business to attend to in his study and Lady Belvedere, Lady Withers and Edith all had letters to write, so only the four young people made their way to the croquet lawn, which Rose was relieved to find quite deserted. A wooden croquet set was produced made by Jacques, which Cedric informed her was reputedly the oldest sports and games manufacturer in the world, with a long-established reputation for producing high quality croquet equipment and it was hardly surprising given that they had invented the game, unveiling it to the world in 1851 at the Great Exhibition, for which they had received a gold medal.

  Cedric explained to her that croquet was a game that encompassed the need for tactics, strategy and skill in equal measure, although he himself, he assured her, was rather lacking in all three categories.

  ‘You’ll have to watch out for Lavinia,’ he warned her, ‘she’s utterly ruthless and totally devious, aren’t you, Sis? She’ll think nothing of croqueting you, even though it’s your first time playing.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed his sister, ‘it’s the only way to play if you want to win. So I’m afraid I won’t be giving you any slack, Rose. What about you, Hugh, how’s your game?’

  ‘Oh, I think I can give you a run for your money,’ Lord Sneddon replied, confidently. ‘I’m quite a dab hand at this game, actually. I warn you, I’m particularly good at croqueting, I can send a ball for miles.’

  ‘I’d like to see you try,’ giggled Lavinia and there ensued a hectic game of croquet in which Lavinia and Hugh seemed to gallop up the course leaving Cedric and Rose behind. Once she had mastered holding the mallet correctly and getting a feel for how to strike the ball, Rose discovered that she was actually quite good at getting the ball through the hoops and keeping to a straight line. Cedric, she was sure, was deliberately not playing well in order not to leave her trailing behind. Both Lavinia and Lord Sneddon, she noticed, were quite reckless in the way they played the game, taking risks and trying to croquet each other at every opportunity, sending the other’s ball charging down to the other end of the course and off the lawn into the yew hedge. It was all done very good-naturedly however, and for a couple of hours or so, all that could be heard was the satisfying strike of wooden mallets on croquet balls and the sounds of laughter.

  In due course, Stafford appeared and advised them that the others intended to join them on the lawn for an al fresco lunch. Rose assumed that this meant that they would be eating a simple lunch of sandwiches, but various servants appeared carrying out tables, chairs, hampers and wine coolers, followed by Sir William, Lady Withers, the earl and the countess and Edith, the latter looking pale and agitated. Every so often, Rose noticed, Sir William turned his gaze on Edith and a worried look crossed his face, although it did not seem to her the look of a man on tenter hooks waiting for his world to come crashing down around him. The earl and countess also appeared preoccupied and, in the case of Lord Belvedere, fidgety; he got up several times and wandered across the lawn idly picking up a croquet mallet and swinging it, or stopping to engage in conversation with his children. Lady Withers was prattling away to Edith, something along the lines that many people, including herself, considered that putting the milk in first produced a better cup of tea, but that Stafford was really too tiresome about it, and kept insisting that it wasn’t done, which meant then, of course, that she as hostess was expected to hand the milk-jug to each guest, which really did create such a lot of additional, unnecessary work.

  ‘I wonder what on earth’s the matter with Aunt Connie,’ whispered Lavinia to Rose, ’she really is talking a lot of old nonsense to Edith. Did you notice that she did the same thing last night after dinner in the drawing room, before the men joined us? Poor Edith, she must be bored witless. I wonder whether one of us should go and rescue her.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ offered Rose, although she did not think that it was Edith who needed rescuing. Lady Withers is just scared, she thought, of having her worst fears realised. She thinks that if she keeps on talking, Edith won’t be able to get a word in edgeways to tell her what’s been going on between her and Sir William. There was definitely a tension in the air, now that they were all present, which had not been there during their game of croquet. But was Edith really the cause of it? Rose certainly did not find her the most frightening woman there; that was Lady Belvedere, who sat a little apart from everyone else, as ever watching, her eyes flicking between them all, resting for a few moments on each by turn. Rose guessed that she was pleased to see the relationship developing between her daughter and Lord Sneddon, less so Rose’s developing friendship with her son. The countess’s eyes rested every now and then on Edith, who on one occasion looked up and caught her eye. Rose found herself recoiling in alarm, for the look that Edith gave Lady Belvedere was one of pure hatred. A lesser woman would have paled and left the assembled group feigning a headache. But Lady Belvedere stood firm. She answered the look with one of her own. If Rose was not mistaken, the countess was issuing Edith with a challenge; she was throwing down the gauntlet and calling her bluff.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When looking back over the next few weeks, at the tragic events of that weekend, Rose felt with hindsight that it had been almost inevitable that the tension that had appeared on the Friday and steadily built up would eventually explode, although few of those present, she felt sure, could have anticipated such disastrous consequences.

  At the time, Rose was aware only that the arrival of the others at the croquet lawn for luncheon had brought to an end what, up until then, had been a bright and relaxed day. It was difficult to identify what exactly had marred the day, how the atmosphere had become strained for, despite the sunshine and the sumptuous banquet served by Lady Withers’ attentive servants, gone were the tranquillity and laughter. Lord Sneddon was positively scowling, Lavinia was sulking and Cedric looked only worried.

  It seemed to Rose that it must be due to the presence of someone in the party and that if that were the case, it was likely to be only one of two women. Reason told her that it must surely be the countess with her ill temperament, bullying manner and sour expression, but at the same time she could not help but remember the illicit conversation that had passed between Edith and Sir William, or the hurt expression on Lady Withers’ face and the look of fear on her sister’s when each encountered Edith. It seemed too far-fetched that someone as nervous, timid and insignificant as Edith was, could cause one strong woman anguish and the other to be afraid. And it was because Edith appeared almost pathetic and yet seemed to yield so much power, that Rose found herself regarding the woman warily, tempted herself to give her a wide berth.

  Even so, she found herself drawn to sitting next to Edith, as if the woman held some strange fascination that she could not resist.

  ‘I feel that you and I are alike, Rose,’ said Edith, ‘watching on, so to speak, looking at the way people who are titled and have money live. See how many servants they have to look after their needs, doesn’t it make you envious? Wouldn’t you like to change places with Lavinia instead of going back to work in your shop? They were always lucky, they always got exactly what they wanted, even then.
’ Edith bent her head to Rose’s and lowered her voice. ‘They were the Bellingham sisters, you know?’

  ‘Bellingham sisters, you mean Lady Withers and Lady Belvedere?’ enquired Rose, somewhat confused.

  ‘Yes, I still think of them as that, silly isn’t it? It dates back to when we were all at school together. We used to spend the school holidays together too. We were quite inseparable, although I always knew I was different from them, the poor relation, I mean.’

  ‘That must have been quite hard.’

  ‘As a small child it didn’t seem to matter, but as we got older, it became more apparent. They became more aware of their wealth, I think, and what it could get them. Did you know that their family made its money from coal mining? It both owned and operated the collieries, that’s to say, their family owned both the mineral royalties and the coal, which isn’t usual; it put them in a very strong position. I’ll say this for the Bellingham’s though, they had a good record in ensuring the safety of their workers as well as providing them with good housing. Theirs was one of the pits that the King visited during his Royal Tour of the North in 1912. Anyway, it was obvious that with that amount of wealth behind them, both sisters were destined to make good marriages. They had looks too; they were considered the most beautiful debutantes of their time. Yes, they had everything going for them.’ A touch of bitterness had entered Edith’s voice, which Rose resented. How could Edith just sit there and berate their wealth while at the same time enjoying Lady Withers’ hospitality and engaging in an illicit liaison with her husband?

  ‘You and Lady Withers are obviously close. Lavinia says you often come to stay at Ashgrove.’

  ‘Yes, as much as anyone can be close to Constance.’