Jackson Is Missing

by Wendy Gill

  "There was a lot to do to get it into a suitable state to live in. Not that any of the women who come to The Retreat care much about the condition of the house. Even in the state it was in when my aunt took it on, was a better place to stay than the homes some of the poor girls we get coming here, live in.

  "My Aunt Sylvia poured money into the project when she first started out. She has a passion for what we are doing. She had a bad experience once herself which is why she never married.

  "I must admit the women we take in all love her. In fact, I would go as far as to say they adore her. You will love her too when you meet her, she is addictive.

  “She powers her way along and people just follow her lead. I am so pleased we are going to be able to pay the mortgage off and help keep The Retreat going. If we lost it through the lack of money, I don’t think my aunt could cope with it.”

  “If your aunt is anything like her niece I don’t think I will have a problem with liking her. Is she totally anti men?”

  “No, of course she isn’t. She told me that she never found anyone she could love, anyone that she could bring herself to live with for the rest of her life.”

  “What was the bad experience she had?”

  "When she was about twelve years old, my aunt walked into her parents’ bedroom without knocking and caught her mother with one of the male servants. Apparently, the male servant was standing naked by the side of the bed and he was in a very aroused state. My aunt says every time she meets a man she thinks she could become fond of, all she gets in her head is the image of the naked male servant and it puts her off.

  "My aunt was in a more fortunate position than I was when her parents died for they left her well provided for. She had sufficient funds to support herself without having to go out to work or marry someone she did not love.

  "Aunt Sylvia used to run a boarding house, well not a boarding house really, but she did take in lodgers. It brought her in an income and one of the lodgers she had was a pugilist. He boarded with my aunt for about five years and in that time, he taught her the art of self-defence. She can certainly look after herself and since I have been living here with her, she has taught me some of the self-defence moves too.

  "Not that I have ever had to use any self-defence since I came to live here. Marchum is a very quiet little town and nothing much ever happens. But about six months ago, there was a bit of excitement when a police officer was shot twice, once in the shoulder and once in the leg.

  “But I will tell you more about that another day when we find ourselves without any conversation,” she told him.

  “And I will be most interested to hear all about it,” Freddie said. “Did the police man die?”

  “No, he was lucky enough to be found by some friends of Marchum’s brilliant inspector of police, Inspector Charlie Blurr.”

  Marcy glanced at Freddie, “Did you know about me leaving Henry Mooreway standing at the altar?”

  “I did, there are not many people in Bossett that will be ignorant of the incident. You know what the tittle tattlers are like.”

  “The reason why I left Henry standing at the altar and the reason why I came to live with my aunt are one and the same. It was because he attacked me on the eve of our wedding day. I fought him off and all I suffered was a cut lip, bust nose, a black eye and a few bruises. I went to Charlotte’s and stayed with her until my cuts and bruises had vanished, then I came up here. I could not continue living in Bossett after that.”

  “I should think not, how appalling. Why didn’t you go to the police about it?”

  “I was too ashamed. All I wanted to do was to go into hiding. Charlotte gave me that opportunity. She kept my secret and let me heal. I shall be eternally grateful for that.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “There is nothing to say, it is over and done with now. My aunt was full of understanding and it has been so very, very interesting working alongside of her, and she is still in the process of teaching me all she knows. That is one of the reasons Aunt Sylvia is teaching me self-defence, she says you never know when you might need to protect yourself. This is what she keeps drilling in to me. I can tell you I have been a very eager pupil.”

  “Your aunt sounds a formidable person.”

  “Well, she is not, she is adorable. Most of the money she made running her boarding house has gone now. It has all gone into The Retreat. That is why we must find different ways of keeping the funding going. If we can hold a ball each year back in Bossett and get some money together then we will be able to keep things ticking over,” she chattered on.

  Marcy pointing, said, “Look.”

  Coming into view was a stone fronted double storey house of large proportions, raised slightly above the boundary walls and surrounded by extensive lawns to all four sides.

  “Impressive,” Freddie had to agree.

  “Welcome to The Retreat,” Marcy’s smile was full of pride.

  The door was opened and out stepped a lady of mature years, she was wafer thin and boasted snow-white hair which curled around her once pretty face. To the back she had soft white ringlets hanging down.

  “Marcy, my dear, welcome back. I have missed you terribly,” the lady held out her hands to Marcy who threw her arms around the old lady and gave her a big hug.

  “Aunt Sylvia, this is Freddie Atton, he has come as my bodyguard. Four of us set out but two had to return, a family problem has arisen. So poor Freddie has had to suffer my company for the last day’s journey,” Marcy explained.

  “I am sure your company is as good as another’s.” She held out her hand to Freddie. “Call me Aunt Sylvia, everyone else does.”

  Freddie took the proffered hand and kissed the back of it.

  “I have heard a lot about you, Aunt Sylvia, and I am impressed with what I have heard. My only hope is you can live up to my expectations.”

  Aunt Sylvia looked at the tall, handsome, young man and remarked, "If you are intending to set your cap at this young man Marcy, you have brought him to the wrong place. All the women that frequent The Retreat will eat him for dinner.

  “I am afraid you will have to see to the horses yourself young man, for we do not possess a groom. You will find the stable, across the courtyard, to the right of the house and when you have put the horses to bed for the night, come into the house. I will have a nice hot meal waiting for you and Marcy can fill me in on all the gossip.” Placing one hand through her niece’s arm, she watched while Freddie unloaded their luggage and dropped it onto the porch.

  Both Marcy and her aunt watched as Freddie disappeared around the side of the house, and then they picked up a piece of luggage each and left the rest for Freddie to take in on his return. The dynamic old lady and Marcy disappeared into the house.

  Lord Mooreway, keeping well back, took in the scene outside of the impressive stone building and thought, It would seem we have arrived at our destination, and he let his eyes continue past the building and boundary wall into the wood beyond.

  Skirting, The Retreat well away from prying eyes, Henry headed into the wood.

  The light was beginning to fade now but Henry was not afraid of the dark, he was afraid of his mother.

  He knew his mother was dead, for he had killed her, but he knew she would not stay dead, he knew he would never be rid of her for good.

  He knew she would always be there, hiding in the back of his mind, jumping out at him at the most unexpected moment, making him do things that he knew were wrong.

  But his mother insisted, and insisted, and insisted until he could stand it no more and he had to hit out, give those women a good thrashing, like his mother had given him.

  It was the only way he could get some peace of mind, to hit out at those women. Once he had vented his anger on them, he found peace. That is until his mother reared her beautiful head again and there was only one way he knew of, to rid himself of her image.

  He could not stop now. He knew that, he could not stop. It was never
going to go away; his mother was never going to leave him alone and let him live in peace and he did not want her to. He loved his mother, he always would, and he knew that, so it was no good pretending anything else.

  Whilst thinking about his mother, Henry had wandered off the well-trodden track, for his mind was still obsessed by his beautiful mother, his dead beautiful mother. When would she ever leave his mind?

  When the servants found her body, he knew the constabulary would be looking for him, but they would not find him here in this wild barren terrain. Why would they? They would not know where to look for him. Nobody knew where he had gone, he had vanished, and he was glad. He liked being invisible.

  Would his mother find him here? Oh yes, she knew where he was, and he was glad about that too. He wanted his mother, she could not leave him, she would not leave him, and he knew that, she was imprinted in his mind.

  Quite by accident Henry came across a shack, it was well hidden in a little clearing off the beaten track.

  Dismounting his horse, he tethered it to the nearest tree and walked straight into the shack. He did not care if anyone was living there, he had decided that this shack was his shack; if anyone lived there, they would have to go. He would get rid of them. He knew what to do now. He knew how to get rid of people.

  It had been built just for him, out of sight, closed in by big old trees covering his shack with their solid strength. He could hide behind any one of these trees and nobody would see him, oh yes, this was his shack alright.

  As it turned out the shack was empty, it had been the gamekeepers shack once upon a time when The Retreat had been occupied by the previous owners. He felt the walls of the shack surrounding him, protecting him from prying eyes.

  This shack had been made for his mother and him. They would be able to live comfortably together here until the time came to move on. It would keep his mother and him safe from the outside world.

  “What do you think of your new home, Mother?” Henry asked.

  “Yes, I agree, it was made for us,” he answered himself.

  The shutters were closed, and it was very nearly pitch black inside the shack, but this did not matter to Henry. He went outside and unsaddled his horse, taking the saddle and his carpetbags inside. He deposited them onto a table that occupied the centre of the little room. Then he went back outside in search of water.

  His horse needed watering, he found an upturned bucket behind the shack and set off into the wood. On further inspection it was not a very dense wood but good enough for his requirements at this moment in time.

  Henry found a stream running down from a craggy hillside, where it went he did not know or care, it was sufficient for his needs.

  Once Henry had made Marcy pay for making him kill his mother, he would trek further into the wild Scottish moorland, change his name and become invisible. Nobody would know him, nobody would care anyway, and nobody here in Scotland knew his mother, so why should they care if she was dead or alive.

  For the moment he was satisfied, he had found his mother a new home, they could stay and rest awhile, get to know each other again, maybe, just maybe, this time she would take him in her arms and she would tell him she loved him, that he was a good boy, that he had done well, he would look forward to that, after all he had looked forward to that moment all his life.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lord and Lady Singleton arrived back in Bossett and went straight to the home of the late dowager to find most of the servants had found other employment and the only three servants still residing there were Conport, Miss Tubby and the housekeeper.

  As soon as Miss Tubby saw Lord Singleton, the lady burst into tears and Charlotte went and put her arms around the sobbing woman.

  “I am sorry my lord, I just cannot help it, every time I think of her I burst into tears.”

  “There is no need to apologise Miss Tubby, you have been with grandmamma for a long time, you are bound to miss her, we all will,” his lordship tried to console her.

  “May I have a word in private, Conport?” Isaac asked the old retainer.

  “Yes, of course, my lord.” Conport followed his lordship into the morning room.

  “I know this is going to sound hard hearted and unfeeling Conport, but has any arrangements been made for the funeral? I believe my grandmamma died five days ago and in this weather, I think that is long enough for her to be above ground.”

  “The weather was a contributory factor when I took it upon myself to make the funeral arrangements my lord; the funeral can go ahead as soon as you wish. I knew you would come straight back when the news reached you, so I held it back to enable you to attend. All you have to do my lord is send word to Mr Foster and he will arrange everything for you.”

  "Thank you Conport, I do not think I could have done it myself. Would you go and see Mr Foster and ask him if he could arrange the funeral for first thing tomorrow morning. There is nothing I can do to alter the facts and no good will come of holding things back.

  “You have been a good servant Conport, this house is going to have to be sold. Would you consider staying here and looking after it until a buyer can be found, then we will see about getting you somewhere to retire to, if that is what you want.”

  “I will stay here willingly my lord until I am no longer needed, then I shall go to live with my sister and her husband. We have everything arranged my lord, I am looking forward to spending the last few years of my life with my sister, we have always been very close. Miss Dobbs is still here of course, keeping the house clean and she is coming with me. We have thought about getting married, but nothing has been finalised about that yet.”

  “I am glad to hear it Conport. Thank you for all you have done. I will not keep you any longer. If Mr Foster cannot arrange the funeral for tomorrow, ask him to make it, as soon as possible would you?”

  “I will indeed my lord. There was one other thing if you don’t mind me spreading gossip, but I think you might find this interesting.”

  “Please continue Conport, you have my full attention.”

  “The night of the ball my lord, Henry Mooreway, killed his mother.”

  “Good God Conport, tell me more.”

  “Apparently not one guest turned up to her ball. This put Lady Mooreway in a rage. All the servants were terrified of her and poor Lord Henry has been a victim of her rages since he was in short trousers. I think it all started when his father left and went off with another woman. According to her servants she has taken it out on her son ever since.”

  “Continue, Conport, I am listening.”

  "All the servants were gathered in the withdrawing room waiting to attend to the guests when they arrived, but none came. Lady Mooreway went into one of her rages. She told all the servants to get out and she did not want to see any of their faces again for the next two days.

  "What happened next no one knows but next morning one of the kitchen maids crept into the dining room to light the fire and found a pool of blood on the carpet. She went to inform the butler and they cleaned it up, knowing that if the stain was still there when Lady Mooreway came downstairs, her anger would flare up again.

  "They have had to clean the blood from the carpet on more than one occasion in the past when Lord Mooreway had been the victim of his mother’s anger and she had burst his nose, so they thought nothing of it. There was no sign of Lord Mooreway or his mother the next day.

  "On the second morning after the ball, the breakfast that had been laid out had not been touched, nor had any of the food left out the previous day. The butler decided to send one of the maids up to her ladyship’s bedroom, just to ask after her.

  "What the maid found was Lady Mooreway laid in bed covered up with the bed linen and her face bashed in. The screams from the maid could be heard at the end of the street.

  "The hunt is now on to find Lord Mooreway. The police are in no doubt that it is Lord Henry who is responsible for his mother’s death then laying her out in bed and cleaning up her face.
>
  “There have been rumours going around for a couple of years that Lord Henry had a temper to match his mother’s, but as to whether there is any truth to that I do not know. He never displayed any violent tendencies towards the servants. All the servants felt sorry for him, they all knew how his mother treated him. I am sure that you are aware of how gossip spreads from one household to another, my lord. We had heard stories of abuse towards Lord Henry by his mother.”

  “Thank you for the information Conport. Interesting news indeed, I shall tell my wife if she comes across him to give him a wide berth.”

  Charlotte took Miss Tubby up to her room and asked her, “What do you intend to do now, Miss Tubby?”

  “I do not know Miss Charlotte. Lady Singleton was my friend as well as my employer. I just do not know what I am going to do without her,” and Miss Tubby burst into tears again.

  "Come now Miss Tubby, this is not going to get us anywhere. I loved grandmamma too you know. Isaac and I are going back to Scotland straight after the funeral because we have left Freddie Atton up there, and we are to go and accompany him back to Bossett.

  "My friend Marcy was the lady who held the ball that you and grandmamma went to and she runs a house for ladies that are less fortunate than we are, she runs it with her aunt. Would you like to come up to Scotland with us when we go, and stay there and help Marcy and her aunt run The Retreat? You will like Marcy’s aunt; for Marcy tells me you and she are of the same age.

  "I think it would be just up your street Miss Tubby. There will be lots of ladies to look after and fuss over, help them out and give them a bit of your excellent advice. If you have nothing to stay here for I am sure, Marcy and her aunt would be most grateful for your help.

  "It would not pay much just board and lodgings really. There would be no wage, for all the money goes into The Retreat, but you would be amongst friends and have a home to live in. What do you say Miss Tubby, are you going to brush yourself down and head off to Scotland and a new life with new friends? Goodness knows what else may turn up for you.