The Affair of the Christmas Card Killer (Lord Kit Aston Book 1)

by Jack Murray

  ‘How did you feel about the loss of the two boys?’ probed Kit.

  ‘Shocked. How else would one feel? It was a great loss.’

  ‘Did you like John and Robert?’

  ‘It’s not for me to say, sir. I was here to serve them.’

  Kit felt there was more he might have said on this, but he dropped the subject and dwelt a little on roles and responsibilities in the household. Following this he captured more information on the whereabouts of the staff over Christmas Day. He and Miller would cross check the answers to these questions later on in the evening.

  ‘Oh, just one other thing,’ asked Kit, ‘Did you visit the library yesterday to tidy or arrange things?’

  ‘No. I was not in the library all afternoon.’

  ‘Did you see anyone go in here?

  ‘I’m fairly certain I did not.’

  ‘Very well. I think we’ve covered everything, Curtis. If something thing else comes to mind, you can speak to me any time, in complete confidence.’

  Curtis stood up and thanked Kit as left the room. Looking out the window, he considered his next move. Although he was not looking forward to it, he realized he needed to interview Lady Emily and Henry, ideally separately. He went up to Lady Emily’s room.

  -

  Agnes tidied up the room for the third time in the space of an hour. Lady Emily, meanwhile, stared silently out the window. Tears were still running down her cheek. She turned to Agnes finally and said, ‘Agnes, I’m quite sure the room is tidy now. If you’re finished I think you should join Mr Miller and help with whatever inquiries he sees fit.’

  ‘Yes ma’am,’ came the reply from Agnes and she left Lady Emily to her thoughts. She continued to gaze emptily at the wintry grounds, seeing nothing, feeling numb. Her thoughts were of Robert and of Lord Cavendish. She knew how the last few years had been hellish for all of them. Yet the anger she had felt towards Cavendish was gone. Just at the moment he seemed to want to atone for the past, he had gone. The anger was now replaced by fear.

  She thought about her wedding to Robert, was it really twenty years ago? He was everything she had wanted. When Henry had arrived so early in the marriage she had felt complete. She had brought into the world a boy. Robert was delighted, their happiness was sealed. Happiness is momentary though. She soon found this out. Of course, she loved him. She always had. As the years passed and no more children came she understood his frustration. It was natural, wasn’t it?

  The time away from home on duty was part of their life. It was accepted and understood. When did it first seem to her that he preferred to be away? Was it her or was it Henry? The child was so different from Robert in temperament, in his interests and in his health. She sensed Robert’s difficulty, not in loving him, but in his ability to conceal his contempt. He despised weakness because he thought himself strong. But in the end, he was the one who had been weak. She had forgiven him but how could she ever forget?

  From then on, the marriage existed in name only. Her life was built around Henry. Robert’s life became increasingly devoted to the army, partly because he desired it so, partly out of necessity as the War loomed. Emily grew to recognize Robert’s concerns in her son. As the years passed she saw more clearly the things that had dismayed Robert and, reluctantly, began to share them.

  His detachedness, his lack of interest in the future was a constant worry and source of friction between them. She needed help, but Robert and Lord Cavendish were fighting an unending war. Neither seemed interested in the child, the young man, the future Lord Cavendish. So, it was left to her and the school. The boy hated school from the start. Emily had no idea what he wanted.

  Neither school nor being at home seemed to please him although she noted, unhappily, how he seemed to relax more during the summers at Cavendish Hall with the sisters, the stable girl and, of course, the Governess. While Henry enjoyed these summers at the Hall, they also revealed to Emily the extent of the disappointment in him felt by his father and grandfather. It was unspoken, of course, but Henry’s absence at shoots, or his disinterest in their discussions on the War seemed unnatural in a boy. The feeling that the two men were somehow responsible for Henry’s vulnerable nature grew in Emily. It became the guiding narrative for hating the Cavendish family, long before she lost Robert.

  The death of Robert had merely acted as a respite from this hatred, but a new element was added. Guilt. She withdrew from the Cavendish’s as much as they avoided her. Her own family was sympathetic, but she only had her father. He was too immersed in the family business to provide the consolation she craved for her loss. Furthermore, his desire to involve Henry in the business went against her wishes. It added to her sense of isolation. She began to avoid contact with her own family also, for fear it could interfere with her ambitions for Henry.

  He was the future Lord Cavendish. Her son would be a lord. Henry’s disdain for the rank he would inherit was unfathomable to her. This place in society seemed, to her, to be irreconcilable with commerce. Of course, it would be painful for her father, who adored Henry and always hoped he would, one day, run the family business. This Christmas had made her realize the extent to which Henry’s interests lay with the business rather than fulfilling the role destiny had provided. Anger and frustration had built up in her, and Henry also. His future was an increasing source of conflict between the pair.

  And now Cavendish was dead. Fear overwhelmed her. The questioning would begin soon. The picking away at motives and worse, the methods, for it was clear he had been poisoned. She knew where the trail of questions would lead. There was no avoiding it. She knew what had to be done.

  -

  Kit knocked on the door. He heard Lady Emily say, ‘Enter.’ She was sitting by the window and it was clear she had been crying.

  ‘Lady Emily, I am so sorry to intrude. May I tell you how sorry I am for your loss. I know this is upsetting but would you mind if I asked you some questions? This will help provide a clearer picture of what has happened.’ She nodded in response. He recoiled at the banality of his words but what else was there to say? Grief cannot be repelled by the kindly meant words of another. The words act more as a comfort for the consoler than the consoled. Sitting down opposite her he was about to speak, when Lady Emily held her hand up to stop him.

  Calmly, in a quiet voice she said, ‘I killed him. I killed him with poison. I wish to confess, Lord Aston.’

  Chapter 18

  Devlin returned to Cavendish Hall in the early afternoon. He sat down at the kitchen table and had some lunch. Miller saw him return and joined the chauffeur. He related to Miller, as he ate, a very busy morning. The phone lines were not working at the village either. Rather than returning to the Hall, he had borrowed a horse from the undertaker and rode several miles to the nearest town, Louth.

  Upon reaching Louth he went straight to the Police station and informed the Duty Officer of the death of his Lord Cavendish. They informed him that there were too few Policemen on duty due to the weather; none could be released to help. It would be tomorrow before any Police officers could come to the Hall. In the meantime, they undertook to contact the County Police in Lincoln because it would have greater resources for any potential investigation. Having accomplished his mission, he returned to Little Gloston.

  Miller updated him on what had happened since his departure. Devlin was surprised to learn of the possibility that Cavendish’s death might not have been by natural causes. He accepted readily the need to account for his own movements over the previous days. Miller added to the notes already made with the other members of staff. He couldn’t help but smile inwardly when Devlin drew a veil over his activities on Christmas night. It was almost certain he had spent a romantic evening with Polly. This was not likely to remain secret for long if the Police became involved.

  Devlin’s story was consistent with the other stories told by the staff. It was clear he liked working for Cavendish. Of course, it was scarcely credible that Devlin would try to incriminate him
self, but it seemed he did hold Cavendish in high regard. At no point, despite his death, did he refer to him as anything other than Lord Cavendish. Miller guessed the Irishman felt a debt of gratitude for being given the job. Therefore, it was difficult to detect what direct motive he would have. Instead Miller decided to look further back. Devlin guessed immediately where Miller was heading.

  ‘I see. You’re thinking because I’m Irish…’

  Miller held his hands up and said, ‘Hang on, I have to do this. You’re not accused of anything. The Police will ask you all this anyway.’

  ‘Why should I tell you then?’

  ‘Lord Aston has been asked by the ladies to make initial inquiries. He’s done this before.’

  Devlin told him in more detail about his life leading up to his employment by Cavendish after the war. He had arrived in England in the late 1916 with the intention of volunteering for the army upon arrival. In the aftermath of the Somme offensive the army was desperate for new recruits and they had readily accepted Devlin. Miller would like to have understood more about his reasons for joining but he knew, from experience, that many Irishmen had volunteered and fought with great bravery.

  His first action was not until early 1917 as the British pushed forward following the German withdrawal from the Somme. Within a few weeks he had received the first of several decorations for his actions. By the summer of 1917 he had been promoted to Lance Corporal. He was a Corporal by the time of Cambrai.

  He did not go through the war entirely unscathed and received minor shrapnel wounds on two occasions, neither was so serious as to remove him from the conflict. As a soldier in the Irish Guards he had not come into contact with either Robert or Lord Cavendish. In fact, he claimed not to have heard of either of them until towards the end of the War.

  Devlin’s demobilisation took place in early 1919. He joined thousands of former soldiers looking for a job. Keeping an eye on any newspaper articles about ranking military personnel returning to the country, he sent letters offering his services as a chauffeur. There had been only one reply.

  Miller ended the interview soon after. Devlin had provided a detailed account of his War record. All of this could be verified without difficulty and Miller had no doubts that Devlin had performed his duty in the War with courage. They chatted for a while about the War, something Miller rarely did, but Devlin’s experience was similar to his own and he identified with the Irishman.

  The War and his employment with Cavendish did not point to any motive. If anything, as with the other domestic staff, his death went very much against their interests. However, as comprehensive as his story of the War had been, his recounting of his time before 1916 had not been very detailed. Specifically, it was unclear to Miller what role, if any, Devlin had in the conflict on Ireland. However, as Lord Cavendish had not been involved with Ireland, there was no obvious connection, thus motive.

  Miller went to the library but found no sign of Kit. He returned to the hallway and went upstairs and found Kit coming out of Lady Emily’s room. Although he could not see her, it was clear she was crying. Shaking his head, he led Miller down to the library to apprise him of his conversation with Lady Emily.

  ‘She confessed to killing him,’ said Kit as they both sat down.

  -

  ‘…I’m confessing,’ said Lady Emily to Kit.

  ‘Go on, Lady Emily,’ responded Kit. It was difficult to hide his surprise and the skepticism was easily readable on his face.

  ‘It’s no secret, I suppose. We disliked one another. They have treated Henry and myself like pariahs. Henry will be the next Lord Cavendish and yet that man has never had any time for him nor those two girls.’

  ‘So, you killed him?’

  ‘Correct. With poison.’

  ‘I see, Lady Emily. What type of poison did you use?’

  Lady Emily was taken aback. Why should any further questions be required? ‘What do you mean? Does it matter? One poison is like any other I imagine.’

  ‘Lady Emily,’ said Kit patiently, ‘there will be an inquest. Part of this inquest will be evidence from the doctor who performs the post mortem. Clearly, this will establish the cause of death beyond doubt. If, as you say, it was poison then, in advance of the post mortem, you will be expected to answer certain questions regarding the selection of the poison, how you sourced it and how you went about getting Lord Cavendish to consume it, when you did so, etcetera.’

  This was unexpected news to Lady Emily. Her assumption that an admission of guilt from her would prompt no further investigation was proving to be somewhat wide of the mark. In fact, Lady Emily’s career in murder was singularly devoid of any actual, real life, experience. This meant she could not call upon any prior knowledge on poisoning to disguise her obvious innocence of the crime.

  In such situations, where she lacked such competence or knowledge to deal with human obstructions, her default approach was high-handedness. With social inferiors, this approach was devastatingly effective and had emboldened her over the years. Facing Lord Kit Aston, war hero, scholar and, well, a genuine blue-blooded lord, was another matter. In Lady Emily’s favour, however, she had genuine courage and no small reservoir of righteous indignation that could be called upon when required. She chose to attack.

  ‘Forgive me Lord Aston, but are you insinuating that I’m not telling the truth?’ In any other situation, Kit would have found her hauteur at not being appreciated for the murderer she was, amusing.

  ‘I’m implying nothing, but you will need to prove to the satisfaction of the law officers if you did, indeed, execute this crime.’

  ‘But my word is…’

  ‘Not enough Lady Emily,’ interjected Kit. “The law requires proof of guilt in cases of murder. As it stands at the moment, we have no proof a murder has taken place and, if you’ll forgive me, you have not convinced me that you’re guilty of anything other than lying to protect Henry.’

  ‘This is outrageous!’ Lady Emily leapt to her feet. ‘Are you questioning my integrity?’

  ‘You’ve just admitted to a murder, Lady Emily. You would agree a murderer is likely to be somewhat deficient in this area.’

  Lady Emily stared down at Kit, speechless. This was not going as she had planned and if anything, she was beginning to look foolish. Then she remembered what Kit had said and found new reserves of energy, responding angrily, ‘How dare you bring my son in to this!’ She was in a rage now and Kit genuinely wondered if she would attack him.

  ‘I saw the book he took from the library.’

  This silenced Lady Emily immediately. She collapsed into the chair and began to cry. Kit immediately went to her side and comforted her. He waited for the first wave of tears to subside and then he returned to the seat opposite her. She wiped the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief and looked at Kit. Resignation and fear were etched on her face.

  ‘What do you intend doing?’

  ‘I wish to speak to him, in private. The book means nothing unless a crime has been committed. Even if a crime has been committed then we need more evidence before any case can be made against Henry. I’d like to understand why he chose this book. You have to admit, it’s a somewhat strange choice.’

  ‘I can see how this will be perceived, Henry killing his uncle in order to inherit this ghastly title. He didn’t do it. He’s just a boy.’

  ‘I am inclined to agree with you, but it is imperative he and I speak. In private.’

  ‘He’s just a boy,’ she replied pleadingly before breaking down again, seemingly beyond comfort. Kit left soon afterwards promising to send Agnes up to the room. As he shut the door, he saw Miller outside in the corridor.

  -

  After Miller and Kit had finished updating one another on the latest developments, Miller went downstairs to send Agnes up to Lady Emily. Then he returned to his room to get his overcoat. His next interview was with Bill Edmunds and this meant a walk in the cold weather to the cottage.

  Kit, meanwhile, went to see the
girls in Lord Cavendish’s room. As he entered he was struck by how cold the room was. This made sense, of course, as it was unclear, at this point, when the body would be taken to a mortuary. All of the windows had been opened. Mary and Esther were sitting by the window, dressed in overcoats. He walked over and joined them.

  For the next ten minutes he brought them up-to-date on the interviews and what he would do next. Both of the girls were more composed now and Kit felt it was appropriate to ask them some questions also. Both understood and answered freely, desperate to help. Their answers helped fill in some of the gaps as well as verify other stories. It confirmed, in Kit’s mind, how it would have been very difficult for one of the guests to poison Cavendish without someone witnessing the moment when they had done so.

  Finally, he asked the same question he had asked all the other interviewees, ‘After yesterday morning, were either of you in the library at all?’

  Both answered no. ‘Why do you ask?’ said Esther.

  Kit did not answer her question immediately, asking instead, ‘Did you ask anyone to tidy the library yesterday?’

  Again, the response was no. Mary looked at Kit directly and raised her eyebrows. This was his cue to reveal the disappearance of the threatening notes. The implications were not lost on Mary.

  ‘Gone!’ exclaimed Mary. ‘But this means…’ she left the sentence unfinished.

  ‘Yes, it was someone or some people in this house who sent the notes,’ finished Kit.

  ‘But this is extraordinary, who would do such a thing?’ said Esther.