The Kit Aston Mysteries (All Five Books)

by Jack Murray

  -

  Now fully protected against the bitter cold, Miller made ready to visit Edmunds. Sam looked up at him with a slight tilt of the head. It was evident the little terrier was bored cooped up in the house and fancied a little fresh air. Reluctantly, Miller gave in.

  ‘Little so and so. Come on.’

  Sam gave a yelp of delight and, for once, did not object to Miller putting a coat on him. The pair made their way out into the afternoon chill. Glancing down at the little dog Miller began to chat, ‘Let me know when you want to be carried.’

  The little dog barked in response. A few minutes later when they reached the deeper snow in the garden he barked twice. Although not a trained linguist in canine, it was apparent the little dog would need to be carried at this point. Pushing through the snow to the cottage Miller could see fresh tracks in the snow, leading from the Hall to the cottage. Someone had clearly been to the Hall and returned this morning. It would have been early this morning before Miller had risen. He was surprised no one had mentioned any visit. Perhaps no one was aware. This would put an entirely different complexion on the tracks. At the side of the house, he also saw footprints in the snow. They seemed to lead towards the stables.

  They made better time across the field with Sam being carried. Within a few minutes Miller arrived outside at the door of the Edmunds cottage. It was a striking cottage from the outside. Clearly very old but well maintained. It was made from limestone that had darkened over the ages. Through the window he could see a roaring fire and two fairly elderly people sitting in front of it drinking tea. He knocked the old oak door.

  The door was unlocked from the inside after a few moments. A woman, who Miller supposed to be Mrs Edmunds, greeted him irritably. Up close he realized she was younger than he had first supposed. The hair was grey and the lines on her face betrayed not so much a long life as one that had been hard. It was clear she had once been a handsome woman but now he could only see loss in her eyes.

  ‘Yes?’ Well, she gets straight to the point thought Miller. The best thing in his view was to be equally to the point.

  ‘May I come in? I’ve come from Cavendish Hall. Lord Cavendish is dead.’

  The look of surprise on her face was genuine. She opened the door wider and walked away. Miller took it as his cue to walk in. In the background he heard Edmunds say, ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Someone from the Hall.’

  Edmunds stood up to meet, if not exactly greet, the visitor. He was tall, easily six three or more. Miller suspected his willowy frame disguised great strength. Like Mrs Edmunds, closer inspection revealed him to be younger than he had first thought, around fifty.

  ‘Who are you?’ Clearly Edmunds was as welcoming as his good lady wife.

  ‘The name’s Harry Miller,’ he decided against attempting a handshake. ‘I’m the manservant of Lord Aston who is a guest at the Hall. As I was saying to Mrs Edmunds, Lord Cavendish died overnight.’

  The couple looked at one another. Edmunds turned away and went to the fireside chair and sat down. His wife joined him. He studied Miller for a moment then pointed to the seat.

  ‘Sit down.’

  The cottage was small inside with barely a few seats and a dining table. On the wall was a photograph of a young soldier looking into the camera intently. There was little decoration in the house. It felt as though they were still in mourning. How many households across the country were like this, wondered Miller?

  Doing as he was bid; Miller sat down and began to relate more of the circumstances surrounding Cavendish’s death. The news that the police would also be involved did not seem to disturb them. Why should this or Cavendish’s death mean anything to them, reflected Miller? They had lost everything they cared about.

  ‘How did he die?’ asked Edmunds.

  ‘We’re not sure if it is foul play yet.’ explained Miller.

  ‘Why the police?’ he continued.

  ‘There will have to be an inquest. He was here yesterday; we saw him come out. The police will want to speak to everyone who was in contact with him over the last few days.’

  ‘I see. He always visits at us at Christmas.’

  ‘How did you get on with him?’

  ‘I liked him well enough.’

  Miller noted the emphasis on ‘him’ and asked, ‘But not his sons?’

  ‘Hardly knew them. They never had much interest in the estate.’

  Miller was not sure where to go on the subject of John and Robert so left it. ‘Did you visit the Hall yesterday?’

  ‘No,’ said Mrs Edmunds. It was clear she had to be lying but Miller saw no value in drawing to her attention the tracks in the snow. Edmunds shifted in his seat uncomfortably and there was silence for a few moments. They knew he suspected them of lying but it did not seem to Miller that the deception related to Cavendish. Again, it seemed better to move away from this topic.

  As they spoke, the door flew open. Miller swung around. In walked a young teenage girl. She was tall and slender like Edmunds but with striking green eyes like Mrs Edmunds, who she resembled. Miller thought her beautiful. Striding down towards her parents and Miller, she looked at her parents for an explanation. As garrulous as her parents, thought Miller. Sam began barking at the visitor for a few moments but then went quiet when she looked down at him.

  ‘A visitor to the Hall. Lord Cavendish is dead,’ explained Mrs Edmunds.

  Tears welled up in the young girl’s eyes, but Miller sensed something else also: anger.

  ‘Good.’

  She turned and stalked out of the room, quickly followed by her mother.

  Miller turned to Edmunds for an explanation. Staring into the fire Edmunds remained silent, wrestling with how he should respond. Finally, he said, ‘She blames the family for a lot of things.’

  ‘The death of your son?’

  Edmunds looked at Miller in the eye. Then after a few moments he asked, ‘Where you there?’

  ‘Yes, I joined in fifteen,’ replied Miller.

  ‘You came back.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘I was lucky. Nearly bought it a few times,’ responded Miller, then added, ‘I’m sorry about your son.’

  ‘What made you go?’

  It was Miller’s turn to feel uncomfortable under the penetrating gaze of Edmunds. The truth, where Miller was concerned, lay somewhere between anger at the Germans and a desire to evade the law which was getting perilously close to catching him. He held the gaze of Edmunds and told him the truth. Edmunds nodded and returned to looking into the fire. For a few minutes neither said anything. Finally, Edmunds turned to him and said, ‘I didn’t try to stop him. My son was a man. He chose to go. It was nothing to do with them, at the Hall. I don’t blame them.’

  Chapter 20

  It was early evening when Miller returned. Curtis told him he would find Kit upstairs in the drawing room. Without bothering to take off his overcoat, Miller bounded up the stairs and burst in on Kit who was sitting with Strangerson and Bright. All three looked up with surprise as Miller burst into the room. Kit caught Bright’s eye. He could see wry amusement on the doctor’s face.

  ‘I say,’ said Strangerson, somewhat taken aback.

  ‘My apologies gentlemen,’ said Miller quickly, ‘I though Lord Aston was alone.’

  Strangerson looked like he was shaping up to toss a rebuke in Miller’s direction, so Kit sensed he should step in and rescue the situation.

  ‘Don’t worry Harry. I’m sure these gentlemen have faced far worse than over exuberant manservants.’

  Bright laughed and added, ‘Well, there’ve been a few matrons that certainly put the fear of God into me.’

  Getting into the spirit of the joshing, Strangerson added, ‘A few aunts too, I warrant.’

  ‘Ye Gods. Aunts,’ agreed Kit. ‘I have an Aunt Agatha who could’ve had the Boche cowering in their trenches asking for their mummy had we had the good sense to deploy her in a direct assault.’

  The atmosphere relaxed considerably.<
br />
  ‘Join us, Harry,’ said Kit turning to the two other men, ‘if this is acceptable.’ Both agreed readily. ‘How was your visit with Edmunds household?’

  Miller glanced at Kit who nodded back. For the next ten minutes he related most of the details of his interview but did not mention the tracks in the snow or about the daughter. When he had finished, Kit thanked him. Miller took this as his cue to leave. Strangerson stood up also and announced he would go to his room and he followed Miller.

  In the hallway Strangerson clapped Miller on the back and apologized for his reaction, ‘Sorry old boy, you caught me by surprise. Last chap who did that is lying in an unmarked grave in Cambrai.’ Both laughed and parted company as Strangerson went up the stairs.

  -

  Kit and Bright sat together and chatted on general topics. Both steered clear of any mention of Lord Cavendish, the girls, or the War. They felt comfortable with each other and Kit hoped Bright was not implicated if something was amiss in the death of Lord Cavendish.

  The conversation turned to Bright’s future in the area. He was not sure how long he would stay but admitted that, after an unhappy start with Doctor Stevens, he was beginning to enjoy his time in Lincolnshire and getting to know more people. His biggest problem was the unrelenting and single-minded desire of most of the mothers he met to marry him off either to one of their daughters or someone else.

  Kit laughed and replied, ‘Yes, I know a thing or two about these things. What did Jane Austen say?’

  ‘Ah yes, well, unless I miss my guess, Kit, you’re unquestionably a man of good fortune. I wish I could say the same for myself.’ The thought appeared in Kit’s head, much to his regret, that the Cavendish girls could solve this problem rapidly. The same thought occurred to Bright also and he added, ‘Although I’m keen to avoid being marked as a fortune hunter also.’

  The topic was moving dangerously close to the Cavendish sisters. Recognizing this, Kit gently steered it in another direction. This topic was for another time, hopefully never.

  -

  Miller took off his coat, gave it a shake and deposited it in the cloakroom located beside the kitchen. Returning to the kitchen he saw Elsie busy making a simple evening meal for the household. Creeping up beside her, he tapped her on one shoulder and dipped around the other to try the broth cooking on the stove.

  ‘Mr Miller you’re the devil incarnate.’ cried Elsie but without malice.

  ‘Very nice Elsie. You’d make a wonderful wife. What do you say you leave this place and run away with me?’

  ‘You’re just after a cook. Now if it was me body you were after…’

  Miller viewed the ample frame of Elsie and grinned, ‘You’re all woman Elsie, and no mistake.’

  ‘Too much woman for you, young man,’ laughed Elsie. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’ve just been to the Edmunds cottage,’ he told Elsie.

  ‘Oh really, why did you go there?’ There was an unmistakable note of caution in the cook’s voice.

  ‘I wanted to ask them some questions about his Lord Cavendish’s death. It turns out they didn’t know he’d passed away.’

  ‘Why would they know?’ asked Elsie, genuinely surprised. ‘None of us went to tell them. The shock, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, there were tracks leading from the Hall up to the cottage. Fresh tracks. I thought someone must have either visited them or one of the family came here.’ Miller could not be sure, but he sensed hesitation in Elsie’s response.

  ‘Not sure what you mean Mr Miller.’

  ‘Look if we’re to be married my darling, you’d better start calling me Harry.’

  Elsie laughed uproariously at the little Londoner’s cheek.

  ‘God love you Harry. You’d cheer an old woman up.’

  ‘Less of the old, young lady,’ smiled Miller. It was apparent Elsie was hiding something, but it was doubtful whether the direct approach would reveal much so Miller dropped the subject and left Elsie to her work.

  Godfrey and Agnes were both in the kitchen by this time. Miller took each one aside, separately, to understand their whereabouts over the last day. Each corroborated the stories of all the staff. From their interviews, Miller found it difficult to see how they could have done anything to poison Cavendish without killing everyone in the household or being seen by another person in the kitchen. Neither held much love for the Cavendish family probably out of loyalty to Lady Emily but also because of their perceived ill treatment by the staff at Cavendish Hall.

  Following the interview, Miller returned to his room. As he made his way along the corridor, he saw Curtis in his room staring into distance. He knocked on the door and Curtis looked up. His eyes showed how much he was still in shock from the events of the day. They seemed absent of life or purpose.

  Miller went into the room. It was larger than the other rooms downstairs but sparsely furnished: a double bed, a wardrobe, drawers, a desk and an armchair. A lifetime of service thought Miller, and this is what it amounts to. There were some pictures on the wall including one depicting a young woman. Then Miller recalled Curtis drunkenly mentioning that he’d been married. Miller asked Curtis if he needed anything.

  ‘Nothing, thank you.’ He motioned for Miller to sit down. In his position, Miller guessed, it was difficult to have anyone with whom he could talk. It looked like he wanted to talk to someone.

  ‘My condolences again, Mr Curtis,’ said Miller.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Miller. It’s very difficult at this moment to take in. Have you made any progress in your inquiries?’

  Miller updated him on the various interviews but revealed nothing material. He mentioned the meeting with Edmunds and asked if he had been to the Hall. Curtis shook his head absently then asked Miller, ‘Did you meet Jane?’

  ‘Yes, I did meet a young girl, very briefly. Their daughter I presume?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Curtis vaguely.

  ‘Probably? Why would there be any doubt it is their daughter, or do you mean it might be someone else?’

  Curtis looked at Miller with some remorse. ‘Forgive me. Please forget I said that. I have no doubt Jane is their daughter. She’s quite striking now.’

  Miller accepted the answer and decided against probing further on the subject of her parentage. It was a surprise to him, however, there could be any hint of doubt. Physically, she seemed to be the image of her parents. Changing tack, he asked, ‘Jane didn’t appear to have much love for Lord Cavendish.’

  ‘Probably not. It’s her age. I can’t think of why she should be antagonistic to his him. She seems to get on well enough with the ladies, though.’

  ‘Does she work in the estate?’

  ‘Yes, she’s the stable girl. She looks after the family horses, spends all day with them. We’re all convinced she prefers horses to people.’

  ‘You don’t see her much then?’

  ‘No, not much. She’s tended to avoid contact with the Hall lately. When she was younger, she would come here a lot. She spent time with Lady Esther and Lady Mary and Lord Henry. She was included in their schooling.’ His voice appeared to choke with emotion, which Miller put down to recent events. Regaining control, Curtis added, ‘I wonder what she’ll do.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ asked Miller.

  ‘What will we all do Mr Miller? What will we all do?’ His voice tailed off.

  Further questions seemed pointless to Miller and he offered an apology for interrupting him. Rising he nodded towards the photograph of the young lady on the wall. ‘She’s a beautiful girl. Who is she?’

  Curtis looked at the picture on the wall. It showed an attractive, fair-haired woman probably no older than thirty. He was silent for a moment then looked up at Miller.

  ‘It’s a picture of my wife, Christine.’

  -

  The afternoon turned into evening and then night. The snowdrifts gave off a purple glow glistening against the darkness of the trees. The silence was all consuming and Kit was happy to have some time ou
tside in the cold air. It seemed to Kit the chill had lost a little of its bite. Perhaps the roads would be more passable tomorrow.

  As he walked with Sam around the grounds, he felt a few drops of rain drumming gently on his hat. The arrival of rain caused Sam to whimper.

  ‘Fair-weather dog,’ admonished Kit. He picked the little terrier up and walked back to the Hall. As he did so, he saw a solitary figure emerging from the Edmunds cottage. A strand of hair emerged from underneath the hat. Kit guessed this was the daughter Miller had mentioned. The girl moved quickly through the snow, clearly headed in the direction of the stables away from the cottage and where Kit was standing. He watched her for a few moments then continued inside to the warmth of the house.

  Kit found Bright sitting opposite the Cavendish sisters in the drawing room. A fire danced in the hearth bringing warmth and light to the room. In any other circumstances the situation would have looked positively romantic but on this evening the low light matched the mood of the household.

  ‘I hope I’m not interrupting you,’ said Kit as he and Sam entered.

  Mary looked up and smiled, ‘No, don’t worry. We’ve been boring Richard about our childhood here.’ This comment was met with a denial by Bright.

  Esther looked miserable. She seemed particularly affected by Cavendish’s death or, perhaps, her nature was more sensitive than Mary’s, thought Kit. She looked up at Kit and said, ‘I’m so sorry. All of this has ruined Christmas for you both.’

  Bright responded very quickly, ‘Please Esther this is nobody’s fault, least of all yours.’ Kit agreed and said so. Sensing her desolation, Sam immediately made a beeline for her and hopped up on her knee. This seemed to revive both girls and they focused their attention on the little dog.

  Kit turned to Bright and remarked, ‘I’ve noticed I’m invisible to young women and children when Sam appears.’ This made Bright smile. Mary looked at him in the eye, an eyebrow raised and nodded slowly to confirm this.