The Irwin Case

by Diana Xarissa

  “Breakfast won’t be long,” Joan told them.

  “We really should have made the effort to get up earlier,” Charles said. “Let’s aim for eleven tomorrow,” he told Carla.

  She made a face. “Must we?” she asked.

  “Yes, I think so,” he replied. “Otherwise we probably won’t have time to see anything before we have to head north.”

  “Whatever,” Carla said.

  “Can we have breakfast at eleven tomorrow?” Charles asked Joan.

  “Of course you can,” Joan said. “We ask that guests check out before midday,” she reminded him.

  “Of course,” he said. “That will work, then.”

  Joan put their breakfast in front of them, and the pair ate silently for several minutes.

  “That was great,” Charles said as he got to his feet. “I hate to run off so quickly, but we have lots to see and not many hours to see things in.”

  Janet heard the front door open and close just a moment later. She walked into the sitting room and watched as the couple walked down to their car. They hadn’t locked the door behind them again, but then neither had the Doyles when they’d left earlier.

  “Why doesn’t anyone lock up behind themselves?” she asked Joan when she returned to the kitchen.

  “Because they’re used to staying in hotels where you don’t have to?” Joan guessed.

  “I suppose,” Janet said. “Maybe we need to give them more specific instructions about using the door.”

  “Or maybe we should put a sign on it to remind them.”

  “Maybe.”

  Janet enjoyed her drive back to the area where she and Joan had lived for so many happy years while they’d both been teaching. After her appointment, she drove past the small cottage that they had shared. It looked smaller than she remembered. As she drove to Doveby House, she thought about how much better she liked their current home. Having her own en-suite was one of the best parts, but she also loved her large bedroom and, of course, the library. Perhaps having to have guests now and again was a small price to pay for living with so much luxury, she thought.

  The temptation to read at least one or two of Alberta’s letters before her dinner with Martha was almost unbearable. Unfortunately, Joan was opposed to the idea.

  “Imagine how you’d feel in a hundred years, after you were dead, if someone read through your letters,” Joan said.

  “If I’m dead, I don’t imagine I’ll feel anything,” Janet replied.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes, but really, I wouldn’t mind. I’ve never written a letter that I’d be ashamed to have someone else read,” Janet said. “Mostly they’re deadly dull, all about the weather or what I had for dinner or some such thing. I’m sure Alberta’s are much the same.”

  “Then you shouldn’t mind not reading them,” Joan said.

  Janet sighed. “I still want to read them. You know I love history. I’m sure the letters will provide a fascinating window into life here in the nineteen-thirties.”

  “Maybe,” Joan said grudgingly. “But they aren’t ours to read. Alberta must have family somewhere. It’s only proper that we pass them along to her family unread.”

  “I’ll argue with you more later,” Janet said eventually. “For now, I’m going to meet Martha and see what I can find out.”

  “Michael is cooking dinner for me tonight,” Joan told her. “I won’t be out late, though. I know we still have guests to look after.”

  “I won’t be late, either,” Janet said. “Meals at the café never take long.”

  She was a few minutes early when she arrived at the café. Molly found her a table in a corner.

  “Should I ask Todd if he can do you three different meals again tonight?” she asked Janet.

  “Oh, no, I think just one will be fine for tonight,” Janet told her. She opened the menu and tried to make up her mind as she waited for her friend.

  “Janet, there you are,” Martha said as she crossed the room.

  Janet stood up to give her friend a hug. The pair had met as members of the Doveby Dale Ladies’ Club, a group that met monthly for dinner. While Janet hadn’t warmed to all of the members, she had liked Martha and was glad to have found an excuse to see her again.

  Martha dropped into the chair opposite Janet and beamed at her. Like Janet and Joan, Martha had never married. She’s spent her working life as a nurse in York. She’d taken early retirement due to poor health, but retirement seemed to agree with her. Her grey hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and today she was wearing glasses with bright blue frames.

  “How are you?” she asked Janet as she reached for a menu.

  “I’m well. How are you?”

  “I’m doing very well. It seems Simon Hampton has given up on tearing down my house, at least for now.”

  “That is good news,” Janet said. Martha lived in a small house on the road that ran behind the small local grocery shop. Before the recent fire, the shop’s owner had been trying to buy the houses along the street so that he could tear them down and expand.

  “Is he going to rebuild?” Janet asked.

  “I’ve no idea,” Martha said. “I just know that I was told the offer he’d made on my property had been withdrawn. A few of my neighbours aren’t very happy, as they were hoping to sell, but I’m delighted.”

  Molly came over and took orders for drinks before telling the women about the day’s specials. Both women agreed that chicken Kiev was exactly what they wanted. When Molly was gone again, Janet restarted the conversation.

  “So, tell me about Alberta Montgomery,” she demanded.

  Martha laughed. “You are eager, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry,” Janet said. “But we’ve found letters and diaries, you see. I’m dying to read them, but Joan won’t let me. She thinks we need to find the woman’s family and give them all to them.”

  “Well, good luck with that,” Martha told her. “She was the last Montgomery. There isn’t anyone left.”

  “Oh, dear,” Janet said, feeling slightly but guiltily happy to hear that. “I want to hear everything you know about her.”

  “It isn’t much,” Martha said apologetically. “I’ve rung around to find out more, but most people didn’t remember much more than I do. You’d do better going to the Doveby Dale Historical Society, really.”

  “There’s a historical society?” Janet asked.

  “Yes, although it’s really only two or three people who meet three or four times a year. I can give you the details.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “Right, so Alberta Montgomery,” Martha said. “I don’t know how much you know about the history of Doveby House?”

  “I know nothing,” Janet said. “Although I’m ashamed to admit it.”

  “Everything I know is second- or third-hand village gossip,” Martha said. “But I’ll tell you what I’ve heard. Did you know it was built in the seventeenth century by a local farmer who’d come to think of himself as somewhat more important than he was?”

  “That much I’d heard,” Janet said.

  “He started building it with a much grander plan, I understand, but had to scale it back as his costs kept going up.”

  “That sounds about right,” Janet muttered.

  “Yeah, nothing’s changed since the seventeenth century,” Martha agreed. “Anyway, when he finally finished the house, he and his wife moved in. As I understand it, they died childless, and someone from Derby bought the house. From there, I gather it changed hands quite frequently, but I don’t know anything about any of the owners. I don’t even know if any of them lived in the house or if they used it as a summer home or whatever.”

  “This is disappointing,” Janet said as Molly delivered their drinks.

  “Is that not what you ordered?” Molly asked. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, not the drinks, the story my friend was telling me,” Janet quickly cleared up the misunderstanding. “The drinks are fin
e.”

  “Things got more interesting around the turn of the century,” Martha told her. “Albert and Georgina Montgomery bought Doveby House and moved in. They were a young couple, newly married, with new money from his job in manufacturing. He worked in Derby and stayed there during the week, leaving his bride in Doveby Dale on her own.”

  “Oh, dear,” Janet said.

  “Actually, it seems to have worked for them,” Martha said. “The only problem was that dear old Georgina didn’t seem to be able to have children. It’s possible that she had miscarriages or stillbirths, but nothing was ever recorded, at least as far as I know. It wasn’t until 1917 that she was finally delivered of a healthy baby girl.”

  “Alberta?”

  “Alberta.”

  “She and Albert must have been thrilled,” Janet suggested.

  “I’m sure they were,” Martha agreed. “Unfortunately, they didn’t exactly live happily ever after.”

  Molly chose that moment to deliver their food, forcing Janet to wait politely to hear the rest of the story.

  Chapter 9

  The first few bites of her meal almost made Janet forget about Alberta, as everything was delicious.

  “This was the right choice,” Martha said after a mouthful. “It’s really good.”

  “It is,” Janet agreed.

  “Anyway, back to Alberta,” Martha said after washing down another bite. “She grew up in Doveby House, a much doted on and rather spoiled little thing. Her mother hired a nanny for her and she was educated at home, rather than sent to the local school. The family wasn’t hugely wealthy, but between Doveby House and some other property that her father owned, Alberta was certainly the most significant heiress in the area. That meant several prominent Derby area families sought her as a potential bride.”

  “Surely arranged marriages were a thing of the past by that time,” Janet said.

  “Not among the upper classes,” Martha told her. “Or at least not as far as the Montgomerys were concerned. They wanted their little darling to marry into a title, you see.”

  “Poor little Alberta,” Janet said.

  “Yes, well, unfortunately for her parents, she wasn’t as agreeable as they expected. They found her the younger son of a duke, who would at least make her Lady Alberta something or other, but she decided she didn’t like him and refused to marry him.”

  “As well she should have.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right. The man in question was twenty years older than Alberta and had been married twice before. His first wife had disappeared on their honeymoon trip to India and his second had been quietly put away in an asylum after only a year of marriage. While he was titled, he wasn’t much of a catch.”

  “What sort of parents want to tie their child to a man like that?” Janet demanded.

  “Social climbing parents,” Martha told her. “Remember this was over sixty years ago. Things have changed a lot since then.”

  Janet nodded. “But still,” she said. “I feel sorry for Alberta. What happened next?”

  “Young Alberta took matters into her own hands and found herself a suitor.”

  “Good for her,” Janet said.

  “Bad for her. The man was the Doveby House gardener and in no way suitable. Apparently she used to meet him in the carriage house without her parents knowing.”

  Janet wondered if the man in question could be the carriage house ghost. She didn’t think she knew Martha well enough to tell her about the strange things that happened there. Martha might not believe in ghosts.

  “This story doesn’t have a happy ending, does it?” Janet asked.

  Martha shook her head. “As I understand it, her parents found out about her relationship with the gardener and started keeping a closer eye on her. No one seems completely sure exactly what happened next, but the most popular version of the story is that Alberta found herself pregnant. Her parents allegedly locked her in her room.”

  “Again, the poor girl,” Janet interjected.

  Martha nodded and continued. “It’s said that one night, a short while later, she looked out of her window and saw the gardener walking towards the carriage house with another woman. They say she screamed and then opened her window and tried to climb down to confront him. Apparently she got tangled up in her skirts, or maybe she was already too pregnant to try anything that ambitious. Whatever the reason, she fell to her death.”

  Janet felt a cold chill go down her spine. “Which room was hers?” she asked.

  “The one at the top of the stairs,” Martha said. “I understand it’s the largest bedroom on the first floor.”

  Janet shivered. “Was there a full moon the night she died?”

  “Oh, yes, I forgot that part. That makes it more spooky, doesn’t it?”

  “Every time there’s a full moon, I get woken up by two screams, a few seconds apart,” Janet said softly.

  Martha stared at her for a minute and then nodded. “I’d heard that she still haunts Doveby House,” she said.

  “What happened to her parents?” Janet asked after she taken a moment to breathe deeply.

  “They moved away not long after Alberta died. The local version of events says that they never settled anywhere again, but simply kept moving around, trying to escape or forget their past. The truth is probably less exciting.”

  “Probably,” Janet agreed. “What about other family members? Joan wants to find out who the letters and things belong to.”

  “I don’t think either Albert or Georgina had any family, at least not in the area. As I said, you should talk to the historical society. They will know a lot more than I do about all of it.”

  “I want to read her letters,” Janet said. “And her diaries. It’s a fascinating, albeit sad, story.”

  “You should make a book out of them,” Martha suggested.

  “I should,” Janet agreed. “I’ve always wanted to write a book. I could retell the story using excerpts from the diaries and letters. Maybe I could use some of the poems from Alberta’s book as well.”

  “Alberta’s book?”

  “I found a box with copies of a book of poems that Alberta had privately published in 1937,” Janet explained.

  “Are the poems any good?”

  “I didn’t even look. I just read the cover page, really. I’m going to have to sit down with them when I get home, though. I think I’m already a little obsessed with Alberta.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Martha said. “If anyone interesting had ever lived in my house, I’d be the same way. Unfortunately, the first owners were a young couple who had two children, raised them there, and then retired and moved into a retirement community. I bought the house from them.”

  Janet laughed. “At least you don’t have ghosts,” she pointed out.

  “That’s very true,” Martha agreed.

  “How is everything?” Ted asked.

  “Oh, it was wonderful,” Janet told him. “Probably one of the best meals I’ve had here.”

  “I’ll tell Todd,” he replied happily. “Chicken Kiev was another of Molly’s ideas and it’s selling very well.”

  “We sent both of the couples that are staying with us up here last night,” Janet told him. “And they both enjoyed their meals.”

  “And we thank you for sending us the extra business,” Ted said. “We’re almost too busy at the moment, but I’m not complaining. After the quiet winter, we were wondering if we were going to be able to make a go of it or not. Things are definitely looking up in the last week or so, though.”

  “I’d hate to see you close the café,” Janet said. “I’ll have to start eating here more often to help keep you in business.”

  Ted laughed. “You know you’re welcome any time,” he said. “We weren’t really thinking of closing, just cutting back in certain areas, really. We were going to stop taking credit cards, but as it turns out, it’s a good thing we didn’t. It seems as if everyone wants to pay by card these days.”

  �
��I’m going to pay with cash,” Janet told him.

  “Me, too,” Martha said. “Only because I accidently left my credit card at home, though.”

  Ted cleared away their plates and talked them into pudding. Once he was gone, Martha dug a card out of her handbag.

  “That’s the man who’s in charge of the historical society,” she told Janet.

  “Winifred Godfrey,” she read. “He sounds like a historian.”

  Martha giggled. “He’s very nice, but don’t ring him unless you have time for a long conversation,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be able to tell you more about Alberta and the Montgomery family, anyway.”

  Full of chicken, potatoes and sticky toffee pudding, Janet headed for home with her mind racing. She wanted to ring the man from the historical society straight away, but she thought she probably should talk to Joan first. Even more than that, she wanted to read the letters and diaries, but she knew Joan would be angry if she did so.

  “The book isn’t private,” she argued with herself as she opened the door to Doveby House. “It was published, after all.”

  Privately, a little voice in her head told her. “Oh, hush,” she told the little voice, startling Aggie, who was chasing shadows around the kitchen.

  “Meeerreeewww?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Janet said. “I’m just going into Joan’s room to grab a book.” She pulled her keys out of her pocket and stepped towards Joan’s door. Her hand hesitated on the knob. While she and Joan had never discussed it, they had an unspoken agreement that they would respect one another’s privacy. Letting herself into Joan’s room felt like an intrusion. Joan had said she would be home early. She really needed to wait for her sister to get her the book.

  “Oh, bother,” she said loudly.

  Aggie looked up at her and then shook her head. Janet chuckled. “Sorry, baby,” she said. “I’m just being sensible and responsible, and you know I hate doing that.”

  Aggie nodded and then rubbed her head against Janet’s leg. Janet scooped her up and carried her into the sitting room. She sat down with a book, not the one she wanted but the best she could do, and began to read.

  “I’m telling you, I didn’t buy anything,” Carla was saying as she and Charles walked into Doveby House a short time later.