The Kitchen Maid

by Val Wood

  He lifted his hand with the key in it and gave it a little shake. “Here it is.” He grinned as if he had been really clever, and slipped it in the gun cupboard lock. “I’ve been waiting and watching Father to see where he kept it hidden, and at last I found out.”

  I didn’t understand what that had to do with anything, but if Christy had asked me, I would have been able to tell him where the key was kept. I’d seen Mr Ingram take it out of a desk drawer many times whenever he wanted to look at or clean his guns. The desk drawer was kept locked, of course, but the key for that was always in his waistcoat pocket.

  Christy opened the door of the cabinet. “I tried to loosen the glass,” he said, “in case I couldn’t find out where the key was kept,” and I thought that when we were man and wife, I would have to take care of all practicalities, because Christy wouldn’t be very good at it. But I didn’t mind that. He was charming and merry and handsome and I loved him.

  “What are you doing? You must be quick, Christy, and get ready. Why do we need a gun?”

  “I’ve just told you, Jenny kitchen-maid. I am ready.” He nodded his head very solemnly. “We are ready. We’re going on an unknown journey and we are going together.”

  He put his hand into the cabinet and drew out a pistol. I’d seen it before. On that day when Mr Ingram had spoken to me, he’d taken it from the cupboard and told me that it was a lady’s pistol and that it was silver. I remember thinking, the time I first saw it, that you would never guess that it could be lethal, for it was so pretty and dainty.

  “Are we taking it with us?” I asked. “Won’t your father be angry?” I was sure that he would be, unless Christy had written him a note to say he had only borrowed it.

  He turned to me and smiled again and once more took hold of my hand. “We’re not taking it with us, Jenny. We’re leaving it behind. We’re leaving everything behind.” He patted my hand and I felt the cold weight of the pistol on my knuckles as he did so.

  “I don’t understand you, Christy,” I said, and my words caught in my throat, for I was just beginning to. “Put the gun away, Christy dear, and go and get changed.”

  “No.” He stared at me. “We said we should be together always. Didn’t we? We promised!” His voice was low and I was afraid.

  “We are going to be together. But we must be quick. Lillian and the others will be down soon.”

  He looked at the little silver pistol and turned it over in his hand. “We shall be gone by then,” he said softly. “It’s ready. I came in last night after everyone had gone to bed and loaded it.”

  My voice failed me and so did my understanding. Surely he didn’t mean what I thought he meant? But he did.

  “We can’t have a life together, Jenny kitchen-maid,” he said in a sad voice. “They won’t allow us. The only thing we can have is a death together and a life afterwards in heaven. That’s why I wanted you to say your prayers, so that we could be sure of us both being in the same place.”

  I was horror-struck. I loved him; of that there was no doubt. But to die with him? A feeling of nausea swept over me and I was reminded of something else. I shook my head. “No, Christy. We have much to live for. Besides, it would be a sin. A suicide and a murder.”

  He hesitated then as if it was something he hadn’t thought of. “A suicide and a murder?” he whispered. “I don’t want that. I want the bullet to go through both of us. I want us both to sit in this chair. That’s why it’s here. I’ve worked it out. I shall sit here with you on my knee and we shall die together.”

  I gave a shudder and thought I was going to be sick. “It wouldn’t work, Christy. One of us would be horribly injured. Please don’t,” I begged. “Let’s just run away and take whatever life has to offer.”

  “No!” I saw the stubbornness on his face. “I’ve taken weeks to plan this. I’m not going to be put off now.” He sat down in the chair and pulled me down onto his lap. “It will be all right. We won’t feel anything. We’ll just put our heads together and –”

  “No, Christy! I can’t.” I took hold of his hand and eased his finger away from the trigger. The metal felt cold and smooth to my touch.

  “You don’t love me,” he accused, and wrapped his hand over the pistol once more.

  “But I do,” I whispered. “That’s why I want to save you. We can have a life together.”

  He put his other hand over mine and I’ll never know if he was agreeing with me after all, for as he clasped my hand our fingers entwined, there was a resounding crack, and that’s why I’m here in this cold miserable place, waiting for judgement on my life.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘All rise.’

  Feet shuffled on the floorboards and there was muted nervous coughing and clearing of throats as the magistrates, the mayor, and two aldermen of the town of Beverley entered the Guildhall. Mr King appeared for the prisoner. The public turned their eyes to the bowed figure in the dock as the charge was read out that Jenny Graham, the prisoner held on remand, had wilfully and with intent caused the death of Mr Christopher Ingram of New Walk, Beverley.

  ‘The prisoner was found with the weapon in her hand,’ Sergeant Hopkins informed the Bench, ‘and the inquest on the body of the young man found that he had died of gunshot wounds to his heart.’

  Mr Ingram, father of Christopher Ingram, was the first witness. His face was grey and lined as he told how he had rushed downstairs in his night attire on hearing the sound of a gunshot.

  ‘And what did you find, Mr Ingram?’ Mr King asked. ‘Please tell us, even though it will be painful for you.’

  ‘I found’, Mr Ingram said in a low voice, ‘my son slumped in a chair and Jenny Graham standing over him with the gun in her hand.’

  ‘And did she say anything?’

  ‘She said, “Send for help. Quickly.” That’s what she said. “Send for help. Quickly.”’

  ‘And did you, Mr Ingram?’

  Mr Ingram shook his head and, bringing out a large white handkerchief, blew his nose very loudly. ‘No. Not immediately. There was no point. I could see that my son was dead. I sent for the night watch and he ran for the constable.’

  ‘And what did the prisoner say, when you said you were sending for the authorities?’ Mr King looked over his spectacles at Mr Ingram and then at Jenny Graham.

  ‘She didn’t say anything,’ Mr Ingram replied. ‘I took the gun from her and she started to weep.’

  ‘Was she weeping from fear or sorrow?’ Mr Dibnah, one of the magistrates, asked severely.

  The mayor interrupted. ‘That is neither here nor there, Mr Dibnah, and not for us to question at this hearing. And anyhow, how would Mr Ingram know?’

  Mr Ingram glanced at Jenny. ‘I don’t know, of course, but she seemed to be very shocked.’

  ‘Why was the prisoner in the library with your son at that time in the morning?’ the mayor asked.

  Again Mr Ingram shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘That’s the strange thing. My son was still in his night robes, but she –’ He nodded towards Jenny. ‘She was dressed for outdoors.’

  What am I to say? Jenny thought as she stared back at him. Do I tell them that Christy wanted us to go on a journey from which we couldn’t return? If they decide he’s committed suicide then that’s a sin, and he’ll be denied a Christian burial. But if they decide I killed him then that’s murder and I shall hang.

  They were speaking to her. What did they say? I’m so confused. ‘Beg your pardon, sir. Could you repeat the question?’

  ‘I asked,’ Mr Dibnah said, ‘why were you in the library, dressed as if to go out and with some baggage with you which contained your belongings? Were you leaving the Ingram household?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking, sir. Yes, I was.’

  ‘Had you given notice to your employers that you were leaving? Were they aware of your intentions?’

  Her words stuck in her throat as she spoke. ‘Only Mr Christy knew, sir.’

  ‘Speak up, please,’ Mr Dibna
h said sharply. ‘Let the Bench hear you.’

  ‘Mr Christy knew sir,’ she said, in a louder, trembling voice. ‘I’d discussed it with him.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe,’ Mr Dibnah began, but was again interrupted by the mayor, who said, ‘This is a hearing, Mr Dibnah. We wish to know only the facts so that we can ascertain whether or not to send this young woman for trial.’

  Mr King turned to Jenny. ‘Tell us why you should inform Mr Christopher Ingram that you were leaving, but hadn’t told his parents, who were your employers?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘He was kind to me, sir, and we used to talk when I first came to ’Ingram household as a kitchen maid. He was always very merry.’

  ‘Were you fond of him?’ Mr King asked.

  ‘Oh, indeed I was, sir. We all were, down in ’kitchen. He was such a jolly fellow.’ Jenny kitchen-maid. She heard Christy’s voice in her head and stifled a sob. She blinked her eyes and lowered them. ‘Everyone will feel his loss.’

  ‘But why was it,’ Mr Dibnah questioned, ‘why was it that you were in Mr Ingram’s library that morning if you were about to leave? What business did you have in there? And why were you holding the pistol which according to Mr Ingram was normally kept in the gun cupboard?’ He spoke quickly and sharply.

  I need now to lie, Jenny thought. If I don’t, we are both damned. Me and Christy.

  ‘I was going to write a note, sir. To say I was sorry for leaving so suddenly.’

  ‘To Mr Ingram?’ another magistrate asked. ‘Why not to Mrs Ingram?’

  ‘I knew there’d be paper on the desk, and besides, Mr Ingram paid our wages, sir. I thought it would be only right.’

  ‘Why were you leaving in such a hurry?’ the mayor asked. ‘Surely you could have given a week’s notice?’

  ‘I’d rather not say, sir.’ I could tell them I’d heard rumours of bankruptcy, she thought, that even Mrs Judson had said we’d all be looking for other work, but that would put Mr Ingram in a very embarrassing position, though I suppose now that Christy has gone they’ll get his inheritance. ‘It’s a private matter,’ she added.

  ‘Ah!’ The magistrates nodded sagely as if they now understood. ‘And so you went into the library and found Mr Christopher Ingram unexpectedly there?’ Mr King said. ‘Did you explain your presence and what did he say to you?’

  Oh, Christy! What am I to say? What will they believe? ‘He said he hadn’t been able to sleep, sir, so he’d come downstairs. He hadn’t been very well, as Mr Ingram will tell you. He hadn’t slept properly in weeks. He said to me that to pass the time he’d been looking at his father’s gun collection. I told him that I was leaving and wanted to leave a note to his parents, and – and he asked me not to go.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mr King kindly, ‘and then can you explain what happened? Did you write the note?’

  ‘No, sir. I didn’t, because Christy – Mr Christy showed me the gun. He said it was silver, which I already knew. Mr Ingram had shown it to me before. He said it was a very fine piece.’

  ‘Who said that?’ Mr Dibnah asked sharply. ‘Mr Ingram or his son?’

  ‘Mr Ingram, sir.’ I feel very faint, Jenny thought. If I let myself fall will they stop the questions? ‘Could I have a cup of water, please?’

  ‘We’ll adjourn for fifteen minutes.’ The mayor rose to his feet and so therefore did everyone else. ‘Give the prisoner some water and let her sit down.’

  Jenny sipped the water, then sat with her head on her knees as the fifteen minutes ticked by. Then she stood up as she was bid, clutching with white knuckles at the rail in front of her as she waited for the magistrates to file back in.

  ‘So?’ The mayor looked down at his notes. ‘Mr Christopher Ingram was showing you the pistol. Did he seem at all agitated or disturbed?’

  Jenny’s breath quickened as she remembered Christy’s wild eyes. ‘No, sir. Not at all. He was quite tired, I do believe, and of course he would be, as he hadn’t slept. He said to me, “Look how beautifully it’s made. It’s a work of art.” Then, as he was putting the pistol into my hand’ – she gave a slight sob and the mayor gave a sympathetic shake of his head – ‘it went off.’ She looked directly at the mayor. ‘We could both have been killed, sir. Then think how bad it would have looked.’

  ‘Indeed it would,’ the mayor said crisply. ‘But we are not here to speculate how things might have been, but to deliberate on what happened that morning, and it seems to me that there has been too much familiarity between employers and servants. When servants can slip into libraries to write notes or discuss the merits of guns and pistols with their masters!’

  He glanced across at Mr Ingram, whose mouth turned down at the rebuke. ‘In those circumstances,’ the mayor went on, ‘respect is diminished. There should be a barrier at all times. And from what I understand from the constable who has made considerable inquiries, Mr Christopher Ingram was a frequent visitor to the kitchen and on friendly terms with the cook and other maids.’

  Jenny glanced around the courtroom. Mrs Ingram was there. Her face was partly covered by the veil on her hat, but she bowed her head as the mayor spoke. Mrs Judson was sitting at the back with a sombre expression and not looking at anyone but the magistrates on the Bench.

  ‘What I can’t understand’, the mayor continued, ‘is why the pistol was loaded. And who loaded it? Mr Ingram has already given a statement to the effect that he never left the guns actioned for use. It couldn’t have been the prisoner for she’s only a girl.’ He looked across at Jenny. ‘Unless you’re a country girl and used to your father or brother handling firearms?’

  ‘No, sir. I’m from ’town of Hull. I’ve never known guns.’

  The magistrates seemed visibly relieved. ‘Not a Beverley resident, then?’ said one. ‘There can be much mischief when employing people from out of town.’

  Jenny spoke up. ‘Cook said that she didn’t like to employ Beverley girls because they were always slipping home or had followers.’

  ‘And I understand that you did not have followers, Miss Graham?’ Mr King said.

  Jenny glanced across to where Billy was sitting. He was leaning forward with his hands clasped between his knees and his head bent. ‘Only one, sir.’

  ‘Was there any possibility of jealousy between your young man and Mr Christopher Ingram?’ one of the other magistrates asked. ‘Had the deceased propositioned you in any way?’

  There was a slight gasp from the public and muttering as people whispered into each other’s ears.

  ‘Certainly not, sir. He was always a gentleman, though as I said, he was a very merry fellow. Always friendly.’

  ‘Well, I think that’s enough on that subject,’ the mayor interceded and gave a scathing glance at his colleague. ‘Conjecture adds nothing to this unfortunate young man’s character, or to his family’s reputation, which has suffered already because of this calamitous incident.’

  The magistrates put their heads together and had a whispered conversation from behind their hands. ‘We shall adjourn for an hour.’ The mayor rose again. ‘And then come to a conclusion.’

  As she was taken back to the cell, Jenny felt sick and asked for more water. It was tepid and tasted stale when she took a sip. The warder took the cup from her when she had finished. ‘I reckon you’ll get off,’ he said. ‘They’ll see there was no reason for you to shoot him. If you’d been carrying on with him, that would’ve made a difference.’ He glanced down at her as she huddled in a corner. ‘But anybody can see you’re not the type.’

  ‘Because I’m a plain girl?’ she murmured, remembering that Christy had said she was beautiful.

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘His sort marries plain women, rich of course,’ he grinned, ‘and carries on with pretty ones.’

  ‘Of course they do,’ she lied. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’

  ‘I reckon,’ he said chattily, as if, now that he was convinced she was innocent, he could have a conversation with her, whereas previously he had only given her
instructions. ‘I reckon he was going to top himself and you interrupted him.’ He nodded his head sagely. ‘Otherwise why would the gun have been loaded? They won’t say so of course; they’ll want to keep it hushed up. It wouldn’t do for that sort of thing to get out.’

  A bell rang and she stood up. ‘I think you’re wrong,’ she said, wanting to quash any rumours that might circulate. ‘Christy wouldn’t have done that.’

  The warder raised his eyebrows as she used the familiar name.

  ‘I happen to know that he loved someone,’ she said, as he unlocked the door. ‘So why would he want to kill himself?’

  ‘You should have told them,’ he told her. ‘You’d definitely be off the hook if you had!’

  ‘I would have been giving away a secret,’ she said softly. ‘And I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘All rise,’ the clerk to the court called and they stood again as the mayor and fellow magistrates filed back in. Mr King gave her a discreet nod.

  The mayor addressed the public. ‘We have discussed this matter during adjournment and are all of the opinion that the death of this young gentleman was an unfortunate accident. It behoves me to state that anyone keeping firearms should ensure that they are kept secure. Mr Christopher Ingram was obviously inexperienced in weaponry. He may have loaded it himself just to see if he could, with disastrous consequences.’

  He turned to Jenny. ‘It seems to me that you are a sensible young woman, and I hope that the present difficulties which made you give up your employment with the Ingram family will be satisfactorily resolved.’ He gazed from over his spectacles, which were perched halfway down his nose. ‘But you would be advised to leave Beverley until such time as this unfortunate incident is erased from present memory. You are free to go and without a stain on your character.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ Jenny whispered. Her legs felt weak and she trembled. Free to go. But where shall I go now that there is no Christy to come with me?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jenny was taken to collect her belongings and then she waited until everyone but the porter had gone from the Guildhall before she stepped outside. She wanted to avoid curious eyes staring at her, but as the door closed behind her she saw that Mrs Judson was waiting. It was raining and she was huddled in a doorway. Her long black coat trailed around her ankles and she held a black umbrella. She signalled to Jenny to come across.