‘Didn’t she come with you?’
Amy shook her head. ‘She said she’d be along, but couldn’t leave Pa with the little ’uns when he was like that. I think she stayed to try and convince him to let her bring them too, so I hung about in the alley waiting for her. There was snow on the ground that night and it got colder and darker. I was shivering badly and could hardly feel my feet as I was wearing only a thin dress and no coat, so I gave up and went to Miss Sawyer’s house. I thought maybe Lily had gone another way and got there before me, but she wasn’t there. We waited all night, but she never came.’
‘What happened to her?’ Flora frowned, trying to reconcile the scene in the cottage with this Mr Coombe shouting at her. Some of the details fitted but not all. Did her mother take her to his house that night? Or did he come to the cottage behind the stables and attack her there?’
‘I don’t know.’ Amy dropped her chin, her eyes squeezed shut. ‘No one does. She never came back.’
‘What about the police? Didn’t they try to find her?’ Flora shook her head as if dislodging the thought. ‘I’m sorry, of course they did. What about her body?’ The blood and the coppery smell came back to her as a firm and vivid memory. She hadn’t imagined it. Her mother had been hurt, she was sure of it.
Amy shook her head. ‘They didn’t find one, but did everything they could. Pa would never admit to having done anything to her, even though most people on our street would have sworn Pa would have done murder for the price of a pint. I was the only person to have seen him with her that night, and I was too young for them to take my word.’
The police couldn’t convict him without a – a body.’ She turned a grim smile on Flora. ‘He wasn’t a popular man, my Pa.’
‘Wasn’t?’ Flora sighed, dismayed. ‘You mean he’s dead?’ Flora gasped, disappointed. Another link to Lily snatched away. Would she ever find out what happened to her mother?
‘Yes. God rot him. And before you ask, my sisters were only four and five at the time. They wouldn’t remember or understand even if you asked them.’
‘And your brothers?’
‘They were out thieving for Pa that night.’
‘Did anyone think my mother might still be alive?’
‘Of course!’ Amy’s eyes rounded. ‘Your father did. But even he had to accept that Lily only had the clothes she stood up in. The dog cart she took to Pa’s was found in the street the next morning. Your father and Miss Sawyer had posters put up in the district for a year after she disappeared. No one ever reported seeing her.’
‘That’s why no one knows where she’s buried.’ Flora blinked back tears.
‘Because she was never found, some people said she must have run away, but Maguire refused to believe that.’
‘What did your father say about what happened to my mother?’
‘That they argued and he threw her out. When he sobered up and realized I had gone, he assumed she had taken me with her.’
‘You never went back to your father’s house?’
Amy shook her head. ‘Miss Sawyer brought my sisters to the home soon afterwards. What with Pa under suspicion of murder, he was in no position to object. He was never charged, but the neighbours pretty much turned against him. My sisters are both in service now and the boys, well—’ She hunched her shoulders philosophically. ‘I heard they ended up back with Pa. They’re most likely back to thieving and the drinking like him. Could be dead for all I know.’
‘I’m sorry. Did you believe your father’s story?’
Amy’s eyes flashed. ‘Of course not, but I couldn’t prove anything.’ She lowered her voice though there was no one about to hear them. ‘I’ll always be grateful to Lily for getting me into the Frances Owen. I was only supposed to stay for three months, those were the rules, but when they saw how good I was with the younger ones, I was kept on for a year. Then they got me a room at a lodging house and work at a bakery in Prestbury. I didn’t like it though, all that flour got to my chest and made me ill.’
‘I don’t blame you. Where did you go then?’
‘Miss sawyer got me work at a housemaid at one of the houses on Pittville Lawn. I stayed for nearly eight years until my employer died. Then your father helped me get my position here. As Hetty’s condition grew worse, he suggested to Lord Vaughn that I replace her as housekeeper when she retires.’
Flora clamped her lips shut, nodding. It was just like her father to step in and help someone like Amy. But then why had he objected so strongly to her mother involving herself with the less fortunate? The two premises seemed at odds to one another. Or had she missed some detail which would make sense? ‘Do you like working here, Amy?’
‘I’ve been fortunate to have two excellent employers and steady work. There are many who never have such opportunities.’ She spoke like someone who had reconciled herself to her lot in life, but had been forced to abandon her own dreams in consequence. ‘Her hand drifted to the small scar on her lip again. ‘I’ve learned the skills which qualify me as a good housekeeper, despite my Pa always saying I was stupid. At twelve I never imagined I would read Dickens in my spare time and keep account books. Now I could get a position almost anywhere.’
‘It’s quite clear you are very far from stupid. And Amy,’ Flora twisted on the seat to face her, ‘when Hetty spoke about the girl who was a flighty piece, did—’
‘She didn’t mean Lily,’ Amy interrupted. ‘I tried to tell you at the time but you were so upset and went running off. That was Betsy Mason. She looks like your mother used to, which is probably why Hetty got them confused.’ Amy rolled her eyes. ‘Everyone here believes Betsy went off with one of her beaus, and will be back when she gets tired of him.’
‘Constable Jones came here the other day asking if anyone had heard anything,’ Flora said. ‘I have never met her, but I do hope she’s all right. You hear of awful things happening to friendless young girls.’
‘Betsy’s got her head screwed on.’ Amy tsked. ‘She’s not the type to let anyone take advantage of her. Happened here once or twice, but she sorted them.’
‘What do you mean?’ Flora began to wish she had formed a closer alliance with the servants instead of trying to prize snippets from family. Servants knew everything and if you knew how to ask, were far more forthcoming. At the same time she acknowledged that as a governess, she was slightly removed from below stairs. That or she must have been asking the wrong questions all this time.
‘Scrivens for one. He took a fancy to her. When she came to work in the kitchens, he would send her into the dairy or down the cellar to fetch things, then follow her down.’ ‘Surely you aren’t shocked?’ Amy said when Flora released a gasp and stared at her lap. ‘You must have seen that sort of behavior yourself when you worked here?’
‘Actually no. Not personally. My father would have been quick to put a stop to that sort of thing.’
‘Oh, he did,’ Amy smiled. ‘I saw it myself more than once. He was very strict with the men, and threatened dismissal without references if they were caught pestering the maids. Against their will I mean.’ She grinned and Flora grinned with her. ‘Betsy gave Scrivens short shrift, I know that. He came back with a split lip once that I know of. It might be an odd thing to say, but if Mr Maguire was still here, someone like him would never have been promoted to Head Butler.’
‘I agree with you there, and good for Betsy.’ Flora recalled what she had told Bunny about the servants’ unspoken rules, thought she was fortunate not to have encountered unwanted attentions herself. Maybe because her father had been there to protect her?
‘Did she ever complain to my father about Scrivens?’ Flora asked.
‘I’m not sure, though Betsy wasn’t the sort to need intervention, she had her sights set higher than a footman, which was what Scrivens was then.’
‘Really?’ Graham McCallum’s name sat on her tongue but she waited for Amy to confirm the gossip.
‘Rumour says,’ Amy broke off and bit her lip. ‘No,
I shouldn’t sink to that level. I’m an assistant housekeeper not a scullery maid.’
‘Go ahead, Amy, I won’t tell a soul.’ Flora felt a sudden kinship with this woman, who had made something of herself from a bad beginning.
‘Well.’ Amy cast a swift look round the garden, but apart from two gardeners at the far end of the vegetable beds, they were alone. ‘Betsy was walking out with Mr McCallum up at the manor. They were spotted a couple of times in Bailey Wood, canoodling, or so the talk went.’
‘That’s not the first time Mr McCallum has been mentioned in relation to Betsy,’ Flora mused. Which contradicted his own account of being a grief-stricken widower, not to mention the story he had told Bunny of his discouraging a besotted maid.
‘That doesn’t surprise me.’ Amy snorted. ‘They still talk about him in the servant’s hall about the kerfuffle when Lady Amelia tried to cancel her engagement.’
Flora smiled, conjuring the memory. ‘At the time it was treated as an unrequited infatuation on Lady Amelia’s part.’
‘That’s not quite accurate.’ Amy’s smile widened, making the white scar on her lip more pronounced. ‘Hetty caught them in Lord Vaughn’s study one night in what was referred to even today as “a compromising situation”.’ At Flora’s start of surprise, Amy added, ‘This was back when her memory was sharp. She’s forgotten it now. Mrs Mountjoy set her cap at him too, but she got nowhere. Got her sights set on Master William now, though I doubt she’ll get anywhere with him either. She’s too eager that one, if you see what I mean. Puts men off.’
‘I think you’re right.’ Flora decided not to pursue the subject, it appeared nothing was a secret at the Abbey. ‘Thank you, Amy. You’ve answered some questions I have always puzzled over.’ Though not all. ‘And I’m glad my mother helped you get away from that life.’
‘I’ll always remember Lily, Miss Flora. She was lovely. Pretty as an angel and with a beautiful speaking voice. The way she stood up to my Pa was something else as well.’
Flora smiled through sudden tears, saddened that she did not have a similar memory to draw on. ‘This Miss Sawyer, does she still have connections with the home?’
Amy nodded, dislodging her cap and revealing nut brown hair. Flora imagined she was much prettier when it wasn’t confined by stiff white cotton. ‘She’s quite old now, so was given the post of Honorary Superintendent.’ Amy released a sigh. ‘There aren’t many like Miss Sawyer and Lily in this world.’
‘I agree.’ Flora squeezed Amy’s hand, conscious of the roughened skin on her palm and finger pads. ‘Thank you, Amy, for letting me know my mother was a good person.’ Maybe I can now let her rest, wherever she is.
The distant clang of the church bell brought Amy’s head up. ‘Goodness, is that the time? I’d better get back and make sure Hetty hasn’t put sugar in the vegetables.’ She hesitated after two steps and turned back. ‘I’m sorry about your mother. Her not having a proper burial, I mean. But everyone did their best to get my Pa to tell them what he had done.’ With a final shy nod, she took off at a run back to the house, reaching the door just as the bell stopped ringing.
Flora fumbled in a pocket for a handkerchief as Amy’s story repeated in her head. She imagined what it must have been like for poor Amy, inadequately dressed for the cold weather and waiting all night for Lily to come. She crumpled the lace in her hand and dabbed her wet cheek, then froze as the details of her dream played in her head.
The cottage door had stood wide open and a shaft of warm sunlight spilled onto the flagstones. She wasn’t six then but much younger. Too young to speak or understand what was happening. Too young to comfort her mother as she lay beside her on the floor. Someone had hurt Lily years before, when Flora was a small child. But who?
23
Flora had no concept of how long she sat pondering what Amy had said, the only sounds an occasional fluting song of a blackbird and a low continuous buzz of a bee. When a scrape of leather on stone and a masculine cough alerted her to Bunny’s presence, the sun had slipped behind a cloud and a cool wind brought goose bumps onto her arms.
Flora did not turn her head to look at him, but when he eased down next to her and slid an arm round across the back of the bench, she released a tiny sigh.
‘How did you know I was here?’ She leaned her head against his shoulder, the tweed of his jacket rough on her skin.
‘It’s a kitchen garden, and where I can always find you at home.’ He pressed his chin into her hair. ‘Is this a happy silence or a sad one?’
‘Both.’ She took a deep breath and eased upright. ‘Amy told me a very interesting story. About my mother.’ She told it the way Amy had, haltingly at first, and when she reached the part where Lily Maguire had been searched for but never found, she was crying again.
‘Goodness, that’s quite a tale.’ Bunny took the handkerchief from her hand and wiped her tears away. ‘And this Amy person, she’s reliable is she?’
‘I don’t have any reason not to believe her.’ Flora sniffed into the handkerchief that had been reduced to a damp rag.
‘How do you feel about your mother now?’
‘I’m upset because I knew nothing about it, of course, but I’m very proud of her. She did a fine thing for Amy, and who knows how many others.’
‘And so you should be.’ His arm tightened round her and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with his free hand. ‘Though the fact that she was never found is dreadful.’
‘I understand now why Father was so reluctant to talk about her. Having failed to protect her from a character like Amy’s father, he must have carried so much guilt with him all these years. He couldn’t bear to bring those feelings to the surface again.’
‘He must have put her in a box in his memory and locked it tight,’ Bunny said, his chin against her hair. ‘As a sort of defence mechanism I suppose.’
‘Defence—’ She pulled back and peered up at him through moist lashes. ‘Have you been reading Sigmund Freud again?’
‘Maybe a little.’ He gave a self-conscious cough, and pushed his spectacles further up his nose with a middle finger. ‘Perhaps he thought you would blame him for not saving her from whatever fate overtook her?’
‘I would never have done that, but maybe he didn’t dare take the risk?’ She settled back against the bench with a sigh. ‘If only I had known all this when Father was alive, we could have put Mother to rest between us. He died believing I wouldn’t understand.’
‘I’m sure he would have found an opportunity to reveal everything when the time was right. He didn’t expect to die so young.’
‘Amy’s father is dead too, so we’ll never know what happened to Mother after all this time. Or where she’s buried.’ Flora shivered.
Bunny made a noise of agreement and kissed the top of her head. ‘Where she lies makes no difference to your mother. You’re the one who needs to let her rest.’
‘I’d still like to know what happened in that cottage.’ She twisted to face him, her tears drying on her cheeks. ‘I’m certain I was quite small when it happened. Perhaps it had something to do with the refuge? An angry father or brother who didn’t approve of her interference. He might have confronted Mother in her own home?’ That Mr Coombe might have killed her after all still niggled at her brain. And if so, had he buried her on the estate somewhere?
‘It’s possible you will never find out,’ Bunny planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘If your mother survived whatever happened in the cottage some years before, that incident might have been irrelevant to her disappearance.’
‘Possibly. And I still don’t know why someone would want my father dead. Maybe it’s all connected?’
‘We cannot let it colour our future.’
‘Speaking of things we don’t know,’ she nestled her forehead into his neck and traced his jawline with a finger, ‘are you going to tell me where you and William plan to go this afternoon?’
He removed her hand gently from his face and placed it in her lap.
‘Nice try. I’ll explain everything when we get back. Then, if you still insist on going to Mrs Mountjoy’s tea party, we’ll go together.’
Flora didn’t mention she planned to ask Tom to bring the gig round to the front door later that afternoon. She would only be a couple of hours and would probably be back at the Abbey before Bunny was aware she had gone.
*
The horse pulled the gig at a brisk trot along the empty road in the afternoon sunshine as Flora followed the brief instructions outlined in Mrs Mountjoy’s letter.
A hundred yards or so from the gap in the hedge that gave a view of Mr McCallum’s house on the rise, a gatepost bore the legend Beaumont Place. Flora reined the horse to a leisurely walk, then a full stop on the verge beside the gate, surprised to find she was almost at the spot where Tom had brought her to see where her father died.
Bailey Wood separated Mrs Mountjoy’s property from Mr McCallum’s. Was it possible her father had headed here on the night he died?
Beyond a pair of wrought-iron gates with slightly crumbling posts stood a gravel drive lined with rhododendron bushes which curved out of sight, obscuring the house. Flora secured the brake, climbed down onto the road and gripped one of the wrought-iron curlicues on the gate, which gave with a high-pitched squeak.
She suppressed a shiver, just as a figure stepped out from the shrubbery a few feet away.
‘Mr Bracenose!’ She stepped back a pace ‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’ Was his presence a coincidence, or had he lurked in the bushes waiting for her?
‘What’re you doing here, Miss Flora?’ The unsightly scar that cut across the top of his nose loomed unnervingly close as he regarded her with angry suspicion. Stories circulated when she was a child as to the cause of that scar, which varied from a kick from a horse to an attack with a pitchfork as a young man.
‘I might ask you the same question.’ She swallowed, relieved to find her voice did not shake. ‘Isn’t this Mrs Mountjoy’s house?’ She glanced past him, though the house wasn’t visible from where they stood.
Murder at Cleeve Abbey Page 26
