Murder at Cleeve Abbey

by Anita Davison

  ‘You know everything.’ Eddy gasped, his eyes wide. ‘Do you know, if you did that in the seventeenth century, you’d have been hanged as a witch.’

  ‘It’s nice to know my history lessons weren’t wasted. Now tell me the rest.’

  ‘Well, we had no idea it the beer was making us sick. Though I should have known better than to drink anything that awful woman bought.’

  ‘That’s not a nice way to speak about Mrs Mountjoy, Eddy.’ Flora fought a smile. ‘Don’t you like her?’

  ‘No. Whenever she finds me with Uncle William, she always dismisses me like I’m a nuisance. As if I didn’t know she’s chasing after him. She must think I’m stupid.’ He arranged his face in an expression of disgust as a flash of his old self shone through. ‘She was quite rude to McCallum that night. I hope she feels guilty about everything now.’

  ‘Which night was this, Eddy?’

  ‘The same night Maguire was found. What with all the fuss after Diabolus came back on his own and everyone went rushing off to look for Maguire, I forgot about it. Then when I heard they had found him and he was – well you know.’ He flushed and plucked at the coverlet with nervous fingers. ‘It went completely out of my head.’

  ‘Of course, I had forgotten Mr McCallum and Caroline Mountjoy were invited to dinner that night. What did you see, Eddy?’

  ‘I don’t think Ma and Pa invited her, she must have invited herself. She does that you know. Probably to catch Uncle William, but he took himself off to the study after dinner, so she went into the garden with Mr McCallum instead. They came in through the side gate, and walked straight past Peter and me, so we snuck up behind a bush and listened.’ He brought a hand to his mouth, eyes wide as if he realized what he had said. ‘You won’t tell Pa will you? He hates that sort of thing.’

  ‘I cannot possibly condone eavesdropping, Eddy.’ Flora tried not to laugh, being guilty of the same thing herself more than once. ‘But I can probably let it go on this occasion. Could you hear what they were talking about?’

  ‘Only the odd word or two, nothing that made sense. Then Mrs Mountjoy went back inside, but Mr McCallum stayed in the garden and smoked a cigarette.’

  ‘I see. No harm done then, now you must get some more rest.’ She rose and tucked the cover round him, but he grasped her hand, halting her.

  ‘That’s not all. Scrivens arrived and started talking to Mr McCallum, who got very angry. He shook his fist at him and waved his arms about. Scrivens had his head down as if he was apologizing.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you could hear them?’ Flora eased back onto the mattress again. She would have given a lot to know what that encounter was about.

  ‘No, that’s when Maguire found us. He sent Peter home and told me to go to bed. Which was a bit rich, because he stayed behind the bush and carried on listening.’

  ‘My father was there?’ Flora’s intention to leave Eddy to sleep dissolved. Had whatever he heard between McCallum and Scrivens the reason he took Diabolous out that night?

  ‘I didn’t leave straight away,’ Eddy said through a yawn. ‘But Maguire had forgotten about me. He was too intent on what Scrivens and McCallum said, but it didn’t make much sense anyway.’

  ‘Try and remember, it might be important.’ Her desire to hear what happened next vied with the fact Eddy was tiring. His voice had begun to slur and he yawned repeatedly

  ‘Mr McCallum said…’ Eddy screwed up his forehead in concentration. ‘That Scrivens had fudged the job, so he couldn’t be trusted. That now he would have to do it himself.’ Eddy’s face relaxed into a lazy smile. ‘I’m pretty sure that’s what he said.’

  ‘What did Mr McCallum want done?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Eddy hunched his shoulders again. ‘Maguire acted all strange then and spoke like Pa does when he’s trying to keep his temper; all clipped words and no sentences. When I got up to my room, I saw Maguire through my window on his way to the stables. That must have been when he had Diabolus saddled, though I didn’t actually see him leave.’

  ‘What about Mrs Mountjoy and Mr McCallum?’ Her words took on a sharp edge, evidenced by Eddy’s widening eyes. ‘Did you see them leave?’

  ‘I-I don’t know. She’d gone by then, I heard her carriage leave.’ He stretched beneath the covers yawning. ‘McCallum arrived on horseback, so I don’t know what time he left. I’m sorry Flora, did I do wrong? Should I have told someone?’

  ‘No, of course not. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ She forced calm into her voice as she tucked the covers around him, though her thoughts raced. If only she knew what had passed between them that night. ‘I doubt it would have made any difference. Not for my father anyway.’ Something she had heard scraped at the edge of her brain, but dissolved before she could grasp it.

  Eddy’s eyelids fluttered closed and Flora rose. ‘You get some sleep now.’ She removed the book from beneath his hand and placed it on the bedside cabinet, checked the window was on the latch and the curtains fully drawn; all the tasks she performed like clockwork when he was younger.

  ‘I won’t, and Flora,’ he halted her at the door, ‘what will you do now?’

  ‘Firstly I intend to speak to Mrs Mountjoy.’

  ‘Well don’t drink anything. Dr Billings said there was something nasty in that beer. It wouldn’t surprise me if she had put it there.’ Eddy leaned up on one elbow and punched his pillow into submission before laying down again.

  ‘Night, Eddy.’ Flora pulled the door closed behind her and leaned against it. Caroline and Mr McCallum’s liaison was supposed to have ended when she turned her sights on William. Why was she having secret conversations in gardens with Mr McCallum? And what had her father overheard that made him angry enough to ride off somewhere on horseback, only to end up dead?

  22

  Flora and Bunny were the first down to breakfast the next morning. The French windows in the dining room stood open, flooding the room with early morning sun, while a welcome breeze puffed the voile curtains like sails.

  ‘Did you get any sleep at all?’ Bunny said as they set the plates of food selected from the bain-maries on the sideboard at their places and sat.

  ‘Not really. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Eddy told me. Did I disturb you?’

  ‘Only a little, which isn’t surprising. It looks like something was going on between the unholy trio which your father tried to prevent.’

  ‘Not simply a failed love affair either, or why would Scrivens be involved?’ Flora slit open an envelope she found beside her plate, from which a heavy violet scent wafted as she unfolded the page.

  ‘What’s that?’ Bunny asked, a cup of coffee raised in one hand, a copy of the Cheltenham Chronicle in the other.

  ‘Caroline Mountjoy has invited me to tea this afternoon.’ Flora studied the looped handwriting that covered the entire page. ‘After all the panic of yesterday I had forgotten all about it. I virtually snubbed her when I saw her in town.’

  ‘You aren’t going to accept are you?’ Bunny looked up from his paper. ‘Not after what Eddy told you about secret conferences in the garden?’

  ‘I’m not sure. She might be able to tell me more about the night my father died.’

  ‘I thought she had already denied any knowledge.’ Bunny snorted and snapped the paper. ‘I doubt she’ll be more forthcoming now. I suggest you decline. Your excuse being it’s inappropriate because you are in mourning.’ He discarded the newspaper and attacked his breakfast with enthusiasm, dismissing her.

  ‘Why are you so adamant I shouldn’t go? It’s only afternoon tea.’ Flora frowned. Bunny wasn’t usually so autocratic.

  ‘Dr Fairbrother plans to visit the coroner with his revised evidence this morning. I don’t think it would be wise to stir things up until the police decide what steps to take.’

  Flora picked at her scrambled eggs in silence, still confused by his attitude. It was Bunny who would confirm their murder theory, yet now he seemed happy to step away and let others take it fur
ther. ‘We’ve no idea how long that will take and we can’t stay here indefinitely. You know better than most that the wheels of authority turn slowly.’

  ‘Not in the case of murder. Don’t underestimate Lord Vaughn’s either, he fully intends to put his weight into opening a new investigation.’ He covered her hand with his on the table. ‘Look Flora. The last few days has been hard on you, what with finding out Riordan was murdered and Eddy almost dying. You’ve done enough, so perhaps you should leave it to others now?’

  ‘If you’re worried, why don’t you come to Mrs Mountjoy’s with me?’

  ‘William and I have an appointment this afternoon.’ Bunny added a slice of toast to his side plate.

  ‘What sort of appointment?’ Flora stared at the sheet of violet notepaper beside her plate. Why didn’t he want her to go? What was he not telling her?

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing much, just a gentlemen’s club thing.’ He spread butter onto the toast and took a bite, not looking at her. ‘However, should you be determined to go to Mrs Mountjoy’s in order to find out what she knows, why not rearrange the outing for tomorrow? I’ll be free to accompany you then.’ He chewed on his toast and disappeared behind the newspaper again.

  Flora sprinkled salt on her eggs, prevented from replying by the arrival of William, with a chattering Jocasta.

  *

  Still peeved with Bunny’s continued secrecy about his afternoon plans, Flora left him with William, their heads close together at the breakfast table. She emerged into the hall in time to see Hetty’s rear end disappear through the baize door into the servants’ quarters. Sighing, she swung round and almost collided with Amy.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Flora.’ Amy nodded toward the door that still flapped gently. ‘Was that Hetty I saw in such a hurry?’

  Flora sighed. ‘Yes, she didn’t seem inclined to stop and talk. I must have made her uncomfortable with those questions about my mother. Serve me right, I suppose.’

  ‘One thing about Hetty’s memory lapses is she never bears grudges. She will have forgotten what you talked about by now.’

  ‘You’re right, I didn’t think of that.’ Flora smiled

  ‘Your mother wasn’t flighty, by the way.’ Amy lowered her voice. ‘Far from it.’

  Flora frowned. ‘How would you know that?’

  Amy cocked her chin at the rear hall in an almost furtive gesture. ‘Let’s talk outside.’

  Intrigued, Flora followed her along a narrow corridor, through the glazed door at the end and onto a short flight of steps down to the kitchen garden.

  Even this early in the day, the sun had backed the brick paths to stark white as Amy weaved through the herb beds, from which the scents of basil, and thyme rose. Flora broke off a piece of rosemary as they passed, rubbed it between her fingers and released the woody fragrance.

  At the far wall, where a bench had been placed beneath a plaited arch of hornbeam, Amy indicated Flora should sit. She obeyed in silence, hoping the air of conspiracy wasn’t simply Amy’s idea of making her day more interesting.

  Amy eased onto the wooden slats beside her, her hands hooked over the seat on either side of her knees. Her knuckles stood out white against the dark wood and she stared straight ahead, as if she was summoning the nerve to begin.

  Flora waited.

  ‘I was twelve when Lily went missing,’ Amy said finally.

  ‘You knew my mother?’ A rush of blood surged through Flora’s thighs and into her belly, making her skin hot beneath the black material. Combined with the fact that would make Amy about thirty when her physique and diminutive height made her look far younger came as a shock. ‘I don’t understand. If your family worked at the Abbey when I lived here, I would have known.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘I lived in town then. I only came to work here a few months ago.’

  ‘I see, but then how—’

  ‘Lily had a friend,’ Amy cut her off. ‘A Miss Eliza Sawyer who ran the Frances Owen Memorial Home in Hewlett Road.’

  ‘I don’t think I know of it.’

  ‘That’s what it was called then, it’s the Gloucester Diocesan Home for Little Girls now.’

  ‘That name is more familiar. What did this home have to do with my mother?’

  ‘Please.’ Amy grasped the bench tighter as she rocked back and forwards. ‘Let me finish. I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to tell you for days, but the time never seemed right. Then after Hetty upsetting you so badly, I realized you didn’t know much about your mother’s life here.’ Amy’s growing unease reached her across the space on the bench.

  ‘I’m sorry, please go on. I promise not to interrupt.’ Her stomach churned with excitement that finally she was about to hear from someone who knew Lily Maguire. Really knew her and didn’t rely on gossip or rumour.

  ‘Lily Maguire,’ Amy began, ‘was a kind, loving person. She heard about Miss Sawyer and her work at the home and whenever she heard about families where the children were being mistreated, she wanted to help. She persuaded several families to let their youngsters be taken in. Those who couldn’t afford to feed them.’

  ‘I see.’ Flora’s breathing grew rapid, but in a pleasant, delighted way that helped obliterate the doubts which Hetty, and in some ways Lady Venetia, had created. Despite any faults she may have had, Lily was a good person, or she wouldn’t have helped disadvantaged children.

  ‘Your father didn’t approve and they argued about it.’

  ‘Why didn’t he?’ Forgetting her promise, Flora stared at her, then realized it was an unfair question. As Amy had said she was only twelve. How could she know?

  ‘Not because he didn’t see the good she was doing,’ Amy answered her question nonetheless. ‘I think it was because he worried about her going into the worst parts of town. Not everyone was willing to hand their children over to do-gooders. She came in for some abuse.’

  ‘I see,’ Flora said again. Is that what Hetty meant about Lily going where she shouldn’t? ‘Please, Amy, do go on.’

  ‘It was like a proper family at the Home, not like one of those orphanages run as workhouses. There were only eight of us and we were looked after by a mother and a father, well they were Matron and Superintendent, but it was almost the same thing. We slept no more than three to a room and had our own cupboard for our things. We even had a cat and a dog to look after. As I said, like a real family.’

  ‘It sounds lovely. I take it you went there?’

  ‘Only because Miss Lily fought for me. I wasn’t an orphan. I lived with my father and siblings, though it wasn’t much of a home and Miss Lily wanted to help.’ She slanted a sideways look at Flora. ‘Are you all right? You’ve gone quite pale and you’re shaking. I’m sorry if this is a shock, but I felt you should know.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ With an effort, Flora composed herself. ‘No one has ever spoken about this side of my mother’s life before. I want to hear all of it.’

  ‘I don’t know all of it.’ Amy shrugged. ‘All I can tell you is, one night Lily came to our house in Barnards Row to plead with my father not to put me on the streets.’

  ‘What?’ Flora gasped. ‘Your own father would have done that?’

  ‘He would, and worse.’ Amy’s features hardened, but her eyes held no self-pity. ‘My mother died a few months before of the cholera. Pa, myself and my six brothers and sisters lived in Arm and Sword Yard. Not the prettiest part of town, I can tell you. Anyway, Pa worked at the brewery. This was years before Mr McCallum bought it and created all those new jobs. In those days it had been run into the ground and no one’s job was secure. Pa was laid off.’ Amy’s resigned shrug indicated she had come to terms with these details long ago. ‘Mind you, even when he worked, his wages went on drink rather than the rent, so we hardly knew the difference.’

  ‘How did my mother hear about you? Through this Miss Sawyer?’

  Amy fidgeted on the seat, as if embarrassed to have revealed so much. ‘Pa could only get farm work in the summer months, and that was p
atchy, so things got worse for us. One winter when there was no food in the house, the parish got involved. They were talking about sending us to the workhouse and splitting the family up into separate homes. Miss Sawyer and your mother came to see us. It was then Lily suggested us girls go to Frances Owen to give him a chance to get back on his feet. I would be trained to go into service and the younger girls would too when they were older. The boys would go to The Elms, which was a home for pauper children.’

  ‘That all sounds horrible, though I imagine better than you had to endure with your father.’ Flora pressed her hand to her bodice as pride welled, crushing the disappointment she had endured since her talk with Hetty. ‘Why has no one told me about this? Why keep it hidden like some shameful secret? My mother was trying to help.’

  ‘Do gooders don’t always get the appreciation they deserve,’ Amy said. ‘I can’t speak for the Vaughns, I wasn’t here at the time, but it surprised me too when you said you knew so little about Lily. Perhaps Lady Venetia didn’t want anyone from her household mixing with those sorts of people?’

  ‘That’s possible. Lady Jocasta did say her mother was very conscious of her social position in those days.’

  ‘And because your father didn’t want her talked about, the good things she did were ignored too.’

  ‘That’s very astute of you, Amy.’ And made perfect sense. ‘Sorry, I interrupted you when I promised I wouldn’t. What was your father’s reaction to these plans for you and your brothers and sisters?’

  ‘Huh!’ Her snort of derision was harsh and damning. ‘He was eager enough for the boys, but as for me and my two sisters.’ She broke off and stared at her feet. ‘Let me put it this way. He said we would earn more on our backs than in a kitchen in some fancy house.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ Flora closed her eyes and exhaled, unable to imagine what could have become of Amy in such a life.

  ‘He threw Lily out that first time, but she came back. Bless her.’ Amy smiled then as if remembering. ‘Dad was drunk, as usual, ranting like a madman and throwing things. Lily shoved me out the back door and told me to go to Miss Sawyer’s.’