The Monster at the Window

by Evelyn James

  “You don’t miss much,” she said. “Yes, I came from London this morning.”

  “Might I ask what brought on this visit? Or was it pre-arranged?” Clara smiled politely.

  “It’s not really your business,” Betty snapped, her friendliness evaporating.

  “I was merely curious, as your arrival is clearly unexpected,” Clara paused before adding. “Do you like to read the papers?”

  “You ask some damn random questions,” Betty snorted. “And no, I don’t bother with the news rags.”

  Clearly tiring of her interrogators, Betty stalked off across the hall to look at a set of swords mounted on the wall. Diana started to follow, but Clara caught her arm and took her to the far corner opposite Betty. The room was large enough that it was possible to hold a quiet conversation without Betty hearing them.

  “If she has not read the newspapers, she won’t know about her husband’s accident,” Clara whispered to Diana. “I suspect she has come to the hall because she has not heard from him in a while and she wants to know why. Maybe she even fears he has lost interest in her, you know how it is, out of sight, out of mind.”

  Diana pouted.

  “Harvey had no call to go just marrying anyone,” she complained peevishly. “Especially someone so, so…”

  “Common?” Clara filled in the blank.

  “Yes!” Diana declared, not realising Clara was being sarcastic. “Yes! She is not worthy of being a Howton!”

  Clara didn’t know whether to laugh at the absurdity of the statement, or to be angry on Betty Howton’s behalf. She didn’t get a chance to be either as Lord Howton now appeared in the guard room. He spotted the intruder first off, then he caught sight of his daughter and Clara.

  “Diana, please leave us,” he commanded at once.

  “But father…” Diana protested.

  “Now, Diana,” Lord Howton said firmly.

  Diana groaned and sulked as she left the room.

  “Miss Fitzgerald…” Lord Howton began.

  “I would like to request to remain,” Clara said quickly. “I cannot say at the moment whether this affair has a bearing on the mystery you have set me to solve, but I would not think it wise to overlook the possibility.”

  Lord Howton stared at her for a while, making up his mind. He slowly let out a sigh.

  “Very well, Miss Fitzgerald, but I must insist that whatever you learn in this room you keep to yourself. This is a private matter.”

  “Rest assured, I do not divulge the details of my case to anyone not directly involved. Whatever goes on here will remain secret, if you so wish.”

  Lord Howton gave a nod of his head, then glanced back over to the late Harvey’s wife. Betty was still absorbed in examining swords. Clara got the impression she was deliberately ignoring the arrival of Lord Howton.

  “Best we get this over with,” Lord Howton declared.

  Together they walked over to where Betty stood and Lord Howton coughed politely. Betty turned and took a good look at her brother-in-law.

  “Are you Lord Howton?” she asked. “I’m fed up talking to all these random people with their questions.”

  She gave Clara a sharp look.

  “I am Lord Howton,” his lordship declared. “And you, so Crawley tells me, are the wife of my half-brother Harvey?”

  “I am. Been married over a year now. He bought me this coat for our anniversary,” Betty fingered the coat again, it was clearly a mark of pride for her. “Look, where is he? I want to speak to him.”

  “Might I offer you a seat?” Lord Howton ignored her question and instead pulled out a wooden chair with a hessian seat cushion from the wall. “You must have been on your feet a considerable time.”

  Betty shuffled her feet. Her shoes were a little muddy from the long walk from the train station to the hall, but they were otherwise immaculately polished. She took the chair offered. Lord Howton then drew out two more for himself and Clara. Once they were all seated, he leaned forward and cleared his throat.

  “This is a very awkward situation,” he said.

  “I know you don’t want me here. Harvey said you were all very conservative,” Betty folded her arms and glared at Lord Howton.

  She obviously had a very clear idea in her mind of what her reception would be like, no doubt enhanced by Harvey’s own dislike of his brother.

  “You misunderstand me, Mrs Howton. I have never made pretensions as to who my brother should choose to share his life with. He has always been a free man on that regard,” Lord Howton protested.

  Clara imagined it would be a different story should they be talking about Richard Howton, but Harvey was out of the running for heir to the estate. He could do as he pleased, within reason. Truth be told, if Lord Howton had banned his brother from doing something, they both knew it would only make him more determined to do it.

  “That is not why I call this an awkward situation. I assume you have not heard from my brother for a few weeks?” Lord Howton continued.

  “He writes every day, normally,” Betty answered, starting to look worried. “But he hasn’t written for several days. I thought perhaps he had took ill?”

  Or lost interest in her, Clara thought to herself. That would be Betty’s biggest fear – being forgotten when Harvey went home. As soon as he was out of her clutches, and with their marriage a secret, he could turn his attentions elsewhere if he wished. Clara wondered how much Betty actually trusted her husband?

  “Harvey suffered a grave misfortune three weeks ago,” Lord Howton was working himself up to the declaration of his brother’s death.

  Betty interrupted him before he could carry on.

  “Has he been badly hurt?” she gasped, pressing a hand to her lips.

  Lord Howton closed his eyes for a moment, then pressed on with dogged determination. It was better it was said and done with, rather than beat about the bushes.

  “Harvey went for his usual swim in the lake. Something happened. He called out for help, but it arrived too late. I am afraid that Harvey drowned.”

  Betty jerked upright, the colour draining from her face.

  “Impossible,” she cried. “After he survived all the war, how could he die just like that?”

  Then she burst into despairing tears.

  “My poor, poor Harvey.”

  “I am sorry you were not told sooner, but we had no way of knowing about you,” Lord Howton apologised, uncomfortable at being faced by such unabashed emotion. “It was mentioned in the papers.”

  “Why would I be looking in the papers for news of him?” Betty wailed. “This can’t be, it really can’t be.”

  Lord Howton had no reply. He had not explained the half of things. Clara wished she could assist him, but how did one go about breaking the news to a recently bereaved widow that her husband had returned from the dead?

  “Has there been a funeral?” Betty asked miserably.

  “Yes,” Lord Howton could answer that. “Harvey is buried in a mausoleum in the grounds. I can show it to you.”

  Betty nodded, but did not move. Clara suspected she was too shaken to rise.

  “Perhaps Mrs Howton would benefit from a cup of tea?” Clara suggested, his lordship neglecting this vital resource of comfort.

  “Of course, I shall ring for Crawley,” Lord Howton seemed relieved by Clara’s proposal and rose to order tea. The delay while Crawley was summoned and the direction for tea given allowed them all to compose themselves. Lord Howton returned to his seat.

  “There is something else I must tell you about,” he said.

  Betty was fudging in her coat, looking for a handkerchief. Lord Howton dipped a hand into his own pocket and handed her a clean one. She wiped her eyes, staining the cloth with black mascara, and then blew her nose loudly.

  “What else is there?” she said, her cockiness gone. “All my happiness, my future, is just smashed into pieces without Harvey. What have I now?”

  Not a lot, Clara mused. Harvey could not have left a will
with details of his wife, else Lord Howton and the rest of the family would already know of her existence. It would have been read out shortly after the funeral and Betty’s name and status mentioned. Either there had been no will, or Harvey had not written one that included his wife. Of course, she would still receive any monies from his personal estate as his direct heir, unless he had already willed it to someone else.

  “What I have to say will sound very peculiar,” Lord Howton said uneasily. “It has been very unsettling for the family and will no doubt affect you deeply.”

  Howton flicked a glance at Clara, but this was his story to tell, not hers.

  “I don’t see how there can be more. He’s dead, ain’t he?” Betty almost shrieked at him.

  “It’s all rather complicated. I don’t know how to even say it,” Lord Howton was twiddling his thumbs unconsciously. “Ever since Harvey passed away and was buried the house has been disturbed by a presence. It is not the easiest thing to describe and I do not wish to frighten you…”

  “Will you please spit it out,” Betty snapped. “All this dithering is driving me mad!”

  “Very well,” Lord Howton became firm. “It is as simple as this. It would appear that your husband has come back from the dead, as a walking corpse.”

  Betty Howton gave a strange gurgle. Then she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

  Chapter Eight

  Betty Howton was carried through to the drawing room and deposited on a large blue sofa so she might recover her senses in peace. Lord Howton took Clara to one side the moment his guest was made comfortable.

  “It does not shock me Harvey secretly married, but his choice does surprise me,” they had wandered back into the great hall, better to speak without Betty overhearing them. “He was callous about it too. No provision for her in his will at all.”

  “He had made a will then?” Clara asked.

  “Oh yes, and everything left to his mother. Not a peep about a wife. As far as I can see, he has not left her a penny.”

  It certainly looked that way. Unless there was another financial arrangement they didn’t know of, it would seem Harvey had left his new wife as impoverished as when he found her. She was perhaps even worse off, having expected to be a wealthy woman and moved on from her old life, she was now unceremoniously cast back into it.

  “I don’t suppose Harvey thought he was going to die any time soon,” Clara said, trying to redeem the man. “He probably meant to get around to changing the will.”

  “He had over a year, according to the girl,” Lord Howton was less inclined to be sympathetic to his brother. “No, a man must take his responsibilities seriously. That was Harvey’s problem, he never sorted out his affairs. Now this poor girl suffers.”

  Lord Howton looked downcast. As a man who felt his responsibilities deeply it clearly troubled him to imagine Harvey being so careless.

  “I’ll have to arrange something for her,” he added finally. “I shall think on it, but I can’t see her brought low by my brother’s shoddy actions.”

  Clara had to smile at Lord Howton’s overwhelming sense of honour. Many a lord would have gladly been rid of such a woman and could have cared less about her wellbeing. Not Lord Howton.

  “What did you mean about his choice surprising you?” Clara asked.

  Lord Howton rubbed at his chin.

  “I suppose I always thought Harvey was dismissive of the lower classes,” he said, his tone apologetic. “He treated the servants derisively and seemed to have no time for anyone who was not of his station. I could imagine him briefly dallying with a working girl for his own selfish amusement, but committing himself to her takes me aback. It seems the last thing Harvey would do.”

  “Love is a funny thing,” Clara suggested.

  “Maybe,” Lord Howton was unconvinced. “But Harvey had always made it plain he intended to marry well, using all the weight the family name carried to secure a wealthy bride. He had his eye on a couple of extravagantly rich American heiresses. Right up until his death he was set on the idea, which means he was fully prepared to practice bigamy.”

  “If the marriage to Betty is genuine,” Clara pointed out.

  “A sham marriage, you mean? To appease the girl but not to legally bind him?” Lord Howton winced as the full extent of that notion swept over him. “Yes, that is just the sort of underhand thing he would do.”

  They were distracted from discussing Harvey’s motives by footsteps on the stairs behind them. Genevieve and Richard appeared at the top landing and glanced down at them.

  “Is it true what Diana says? Harvey had a wife?” Genevieve called down.

  “Please do not shout, Genie,” Lord Howton sighed. “And yes, it is true.”

  The siblings clattered down the remainder of the stairs.

  “Where is she?” Genevieve asked.

  Lord Howton was looking more and more fraught.

  “She is resting in the drawing room. She did not know Harvey was dead and explaining to her that he was a troubled soul rising from his grave was rather too much. She fainted.”

  Genevieve and Richard turned and headed to the drawing room. It seemed prudent to both Clara and Lord Howton to follow them. When they arrived in the drawing room, Betty was sitting upright on the sofa, still a little pale but apparently in no danger of fainting again. Crawley had brought the tea she had been promised to the room and was just finished serving her a cup.

  “Thank you, Crawley,” Lord Howton nodded to the butler.

  Mr Crawley bowed to his lordship and departed the room as solemnly as he had arrived. Betty glanced up at the new arrivals. Defensive, she went on the attack first.

  “Who are you?” she demanded of Genevieve and Richard.

  “What a question from such a person!” Genevieve declared with a laugh.

  “Genie!” her father reprimanded. “Manners!”

  Genevieve sighed indignantly, but the scolding had reminded her of herself.

  “I am Genevieve. Harvey’s older niece. This is my brother Richard.”

  Richard had been strangely silent throughout this whole affair. Now he moved forward to stand by his sister.

  “Harvey never said he was married,” he mumbled. “I hope he treated you well.”

  “You speak of him like he was a devil!” Betty snapped, annoyed by both the rudeness and sympathy displayed by the siblings in turn. “Harvey was a kind, loving husband! I can’t believe he is gone.”

  Betty’s last word tailed off into a wail of misery. She looked around her at the Howtons and Clara, and tears streamed down her face.

  “What will become of me?” she asked no one in particular.

  “Whilst my brother has left no provision for you, as a Howton I cannot see you destitute, and so, I shall make arrangements for an allowance to be made to you,” Lord Howton announced instantly.

  “Father!” Richard yelped in astonished outrage.

  “She is a Howton,” his lordship told his son firmly. “Harvey should have made sure of her future wellbeing himself. Since he did not, it is up to me to rectify affairs.”

  “Stop talking about me like I ain’t here,” Betty wept. “I don’t want your money. I didn’t marry Harvey for his wealth. What do you think I am?”

  No one answered that. Lord Howton merely took a pace closer to Betty and dipped his head.

  “This is a difficult situation for us all, but don’t turn down my offer without thinking it over carefully. You are owed this money, it is not a gift or charity. It is your rightful share of Harvey’s part of the estate.”

  “Rightful share!” Richard huffed, storming off to the far side of the room, where the windows looked out into the grounds. He could not see Harvey’s mausoleum from there, as a rise in the land hid it from view, but Clara was convinced he was glaring in his uncle’s direction.

  “This is all too much to take in,” Betty was still weeping. “And then you tell me that my Harvey is risen from his grave and is a walking dead man?”

>   Betty stared at his lordship incredulously.

  “Not all of us believe such twaddle,” Genevieve jumped in. “I personally think someone is pretending to be my late uncle risen from his tomb to upset the family.”

  “Why would anyone do such a thing?” Betty asked in horror.

  “There are some nasty beggars about,” Genevieve shrugged. “If father would just let me go out with the shotgun one night…”

  “No,” Lord Howton told her firmly. “We have no way of knowing what sort of creature that man is who appears at the window.”

  “He is no ‘creature’,” Genevieve groaned. “He is just a man.”

  “That is your view and I have my own on the subject,” Lord Howton persisted. “I am sorry Mrs Howton that you have been dragged into this matter before it could be resolved.”

  “Can you call me Betty,” Betty said. “Everyone calls me Betty. I can’t get my head around being called Mrs Howton.”

  Genevieve pulled a face at this declaration, as if it explained everything she had been puttering about. Lord Howton merely nodded.

  “Betty, it is. Now, you will stay here until we can organise things? You have yet to meet your mother-in-law.”

  Betty’s face became stricken with horror by the suggestion. It was slowly dawning on her how difficult her integration into the family was going to be without Harvey for support. Having seen the reactions of his nephew and nieces, she could only wonder at what his mother would make of her presence.

  “You might meet your husband yet,” Genevieve said darkly.

  Her father scowled at her and she stalked off to join her brother.

  “I shall have a room prepared for you,” Lord Howton continued. “We dine at seven usually, so you have several hours as yet to rest and recuperate. I understand this has been a terrible shock.”

  “That hardly sums it up,” Betty shook her head. “I came here thinking Harvey was ill, or maybe he had grown tired of me, or forgetful. I’m not daft, I knew what might happen when he was no longer with me. I never thought to find him dead. And now all this ‘not being dead’ stuff too.”

  “If you remain tonight, you will see for yourself what I mean,” Lord Howton continued. “That goes for you too, Miss Fitzgerald.”