Davenport House 6: House Secrets

by Marie Silk

  “Goodnight.”

  Late into the night, Sam was hurrying through the servants’ entrance, looking around to see if anyone was still awake. All was quiet and the lights were off. Sam quietly took the servants’ stairs to the upper level of Davenport House. He went straight to Abigail’s bedroom and entered without knocking.

  “Abby…Abby, wake up.” Sam gently shook her awake.

  “Sam? What are you doing here?” she asked sleepily. Abigail sat up in bed and immediately checked on the baby, who was sleeping peacefully beside her. She shielded the baby’s eyes while she switched on the bedside lamp. “What time is it?”

  Sam did not answer. He looked at her with fear in his eyes. “I found Mr. Collins.”

  “Had he gone missing?” she questioned. “I did not realize. Where is he now?”

  “In the field behind the stable. I tried to rouse him, but—he’s dead, Abby.”

  Abigail drew a sharp breath. “Was Ethan with you?”

  “No, he slept in his room the whole night. I didn’t know what to do when I found Mr. Collins like that, so I came here to wake you. You know everyone in this house better than me. What do I do?”

  “We must wake Clara and tell her there has been an accident. Mr. Collins will need to be carried inside so he may be laid out in the parlor. We will see to the burial when Clara is ready.”

  “Abby,” Sam shook his head, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I don’t think it was an accident.”

  Chapter 6

  Clara stepped quickly through the servants’ entrance and proceeded to remove her heels. The room was dark and the fires had not yet been lit. Clara held her shoes while she tip-toed past the servants’ table in the kitchen. She stumbled over a chair in the dark and the lights were soon switched on. “Mrs. Collins?” Nora questioned in surprise. She stood in her nightgown holding a shawl around her shoulders and stared at Clara, who still wore her dress from the masked ball. “May I help with something?”

  Clara stared back at her with wide eyes. “No, I just—I came down for a drink of water,” she stammered.

  Nora walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water, setting it on a tray with a pitcher. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Collins?”

  “No, I’m just going back to bed,” Clara whispered.

  “Jane went to attend you in your room after the ball,” Nora remarked. “But Mr. Collins told her that he did not know where you had gone.”

  “Nora, I’m very tired and only wish to go to bed. If anyone needs me, tell them I am sleeping in the bedroom that used to be my mother’s.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Collins. I can attend you, and help you out of your gown, if you wish.”

  Clara turned for the servants’ stairs. “I will manage on my own. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Mrs. Collins.”

  While Clara and Nora spoke in the servants’ quarters, Sam and Abigail were leaving through the front door of the house to head for the stable. “Are you sure you want to try to wake Ethan? He’s not the easiest person to get out of bed.”

  Abigail hugged the baby to her chest as she hurried along. “I think we must.”

  “You stay out here in the sitting room,” Sam told her when they entered the apartment. “I’ll go in and wake him.”

  Ethan snapped awake as soon as Sam pushed the door open. “What’s happening? Is Abigail alright?” he asked quickly.

  “She’s in the sitting room,” Sam replied. “Something bad happened, and we don’t know what to do.”

  Ethan followed Sam to the sitting room where Abigail had settled in with the baby. “Lawrence is dead,” she told him with wide eyes. “And we can’t find Clara.”

  Ethan was stunned. “Has anyone called the police?”

  Abigail shook her head. “Sam came to me in the house to tell me that he found a body outside. I went to Clara’s bedroom to wake her, but she was not there. I became too frightened to stay in the house.”

  Ethan sat beside her and put his arm around her. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled, and turned to Sam. “What happened?”

  “I woke up when I heard a noise behind the stable. I put on my boots and went out there…and that’s when I found him…he was all bloodied up like he got in a fight…”

  “Did you check on Mary?” Ethan asked Abigail.

  “She was called to a birth before the party last night and has not returned yet,” she explained.

  Ethan thought hard. “I’m going to go in the house to make sure the maids are alright and the police are called. You stay here with Sam until I get back.”

  Abigail nodded, the fear evident in her eyes. Ethan kissed her and the baby, then went to remove a rifle from the gun cabinet. “I want to be prepared in case I run into whoever did this,” he said.

  Ethan entered the house through the servants’ door and went straight to the door of the housekeeper’s room.

  Fiona was startled awake by his knock at her door. She turned to Bridget who was sleeping beside her. “Bridget,” she whispered frantically, shaking her awake. “Someone is knocking at my door.”

  Bridget opened her eyes and nodded, leaving the bed to hide behind the room divider. Fiona held a shawl over her shoulders and nervously opened the door, afraid that Clara had found out about Bridget being there. Fiona was stunned when she opened the door to see Ethan standing there with the rifle. Her eyes were wide with alarm.

  “I don’t want to frighten you,” he said. “But there’s been a death on the estate. I need you to make sure the staff is alright.”

  Fiona nodded solemnly and proceeded to wake the maids and cook. They all gathered in the servants’ lobby while Ethan addressed them. “I’m afraid that Mr. Collins has been found dead outside,” he began. The maids gasped and covered their faces with their hands. “We’re worried about Clara. She was not found in her room.”

  “Mrs. Collins is sleeping in her mother’s old room tonight,” Nora spoke up.

  “Then we need to wake her and tell her what’s happened,” Ethan responded. “I’m going back outside to have a look around. Fiona, call the police. You should also have someone get the parlor ready for when we bring the body inside.”

  “Yes, Mr. Ethan,” she nodded.

  “I’ll explain to Mrs. Collins,” Nora said, then disappeared up the servants’ stairs.

  At the stable apartment, Abigail turned worriedly to Sam. “I hope the Valentis are alright. Maybe you should check on them since Lawrence was found so near their property.”

  “I’ll check on them after Ethan gets back,” Sam told her.

  Ethan came through the door just then. “Clara is at the house,” he said. “The maids told me she slept in her mother’s room last night.”

  Abigail breathed in relief. “Thank God. I was worried for her when I saw her bed empty.”

  Ethan continued solemnly as he returned the rifle to the gun cabinet. “I—I had a look at Mr. Collins. I didn’t see anyone else around, but the police will be on their way soon. Maybe we shouldn’t move the body until they get here.”

  Sam nodded and rose from his seat. “I’m going to check on our neighbors. Maybe they saw or heard something at the farmhouse.”

  After Sam left the apartment, Abigail began crying. “Clara will be distressed to hear the news. But if I go to comfort her now, I must only pretend that I am sorry Lawrence is dead. What if it is all my fault?”

  Ethan was bewildered. “How could any of this be your fault?”

  “I wished him dead last night,” she confessed. “I never dreamed it would actually happen.”

  Ethan felt his heart sink. “Has he done something to you? Something you never told me?”

  “I only learned about it last night,” she said mournfully. “He has done something dreadful…to the both of us.”

  “You and the baby?” Ethan asked in horror.

  “No, to you and me. Bridget came to the house last night to inform me—the letter that came from the war office about your death
—it was Lawrence who arranged for it to be sent! It was with the intent to trick me into being with him!”

  Ethan’s confused expression turned to rage. “If I knew of this last night…” he trailed off.

  “It was a detestable plan,” she continued. “I was going to speak with Clara about it today, but there is no reason to now. I’m only glad he is dead and can do no more damage.”

  The room was silent when Sam emerged through the door again. “I talked to Phillip. The family is good. They didn’t see or hear anyone last night.”

  “Thank you, Sam,” Abigail said to him. “I suppose we must wait for the police to arrive and tell us what should be done next.” Sam and Ethan nodded in agreement, and they sat quietly in the apartment, waiting for the police.

  At Davenport House, Clara was opening her eyes sleepily. “What is it, Nora?”

  “The police are on their way,” she answered.

  “What do you mean?” Clara asked groggily. “Why are the police coming?”

  “Because of Mr. Collins, Madam.”

  Clara sat up quickly. “What are you saying?”

  “The police are coming to investigate who might have done such a thing…to cause his death…” She gingerly lifted Clara’s gown from the chair and hung it up in the wardrobe.

  Clara was aghast. “What happened?”

  “It’s what the police will want to know. Should I tell them that you have been sleeping in your mother’s room all night?”

  Clara went pale and began to sweat. “Nora, I’m in shock. Are you telling me that my husband is dead?”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  Fiona entered the room just then. “The police chief has arrived, Mrs. Collins.”

  Clara looked between Nora and Fiona with wide eyes. “Please tell the chief that I am distressed and unable to come downstairs.”

  “Yes, Madam,” Fiona answered, and walked away. Chief Reynolds arrived in Clara’s doorway shortly afterward.

  “I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Collins,” he said, holding his hat and bowing his head.

  “I have only just learned of my husband’s passing, Sir. I’m still in shock,” Clara replied.

  “Of course,” he said. “I’m afraid that I must open an investigation into your husband’s death. It means that I will question your staff today, but we’ll be sure to stay out of your way.”

  Clara nodded with wide eyes.

  “I don’t wish to bother you during your time of grief, but there is something I must ask before I go downstairs,” the chief resumed.

  “Yes?” Clara squeaked.

  “Do you know who may have done this? Did your husband have enemies who may have wanted to injure him?”

  Clara felt her heart racing in her chest. “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that, Sir.”

  Chief Reynolds nodded and turned to Nora. “Miss, please follow me downstairs where I will ask you some questions.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Nora answered, but she gave Clara a reassuring look before she left the room.

  Downstairs in the parlor, Sam and Ethan laid the body of Mr. Collins on the table. Ethan covered the face with a linen and gave Sam a look. “I suppose we should tell Clara that we’ve brought him in.”

  Ethan went upstairs to Clara’s room, where Abigail was with her. “We laid him out downstairs,” Ethan said quietly. “If you want to see him—”

  “Is the police chief still here?” Clara interrupted.

  “No, he already left,” Ethan sighed.

  “Then I want you to call the undertaker to come for Lawrence right away,” she said.

  Ethan nodded and left the room.

  “Are you certain you don’t want to look upon him or say goodbye for the last time?” questioned Abigail gently.

  Clara shook her head. “It was no great secret that Lawrence and I were not getting along. I found out that he lied to me about his mother. I don’t think I could stand the sight of him right now, alive or dead.”

  “I understand,” she replied, understanding more than Clara might realize. “Should I have the maids bring you breakfast?”

  “I’m not hungry,” Clara replied. “I think I just wish to be left alone for awhile.” Abigail kissed her on the forehead then stood up to leave the room. Before she was out of the doorway, Clara added quickly, “Oh Abigail, I have changed my mind. I do want breakfast—only, could you be sure that Nora brings it up to me?”

  “I will see to it,” Abigail promised, then left the room.

  Downstairs in the servants’ quarters, Fiona went to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. “Bridget,” she whispered.

  Bridget walked out into view. “What’s happening out there?”

  “The undertaker has arrived and is taking Mr. Collins,” Fiona said with wide eyes. “The police are gone now and everyone is upstairs paying their respects. You should leave through the servants’ door now when no one will see you.”

  Bridget stared at Fiona in horror. “Lawrence is dead?”

  “Yes, but we don’t have time to talk about it now!”

  Bridget nodded and gathered her things. “Did the police say who did it?”

  “I don’t think they know,” Fiona said, her voice filled with anxiety. “Hurry, sister. I’m afraid that someone will see you.” Bridget followed her to the servants’ door where Fiona stood watch as she hurried away from the house.

  Upstairs in Clara’s bedroom, Nora entered the doorway. “I have your breakfast, Madam,” she said, bringing the tray toward the bed.

  “Leave it on the tea table for now,” Clara said.

  “Yes, Madam.” Nora set the tray down and turned toward Clara. “Is there anything else you wish me to bring you?”

  Clara hesitated. “I wish to speak to you a moment. Close the door please.”

  Nora closed the door and looked at Clara expectantly.

  “Did you say anything to the police…about me?” she asked nervously.

  “I told him you wished to sleep in your mother’s bedroom last night, and that I attended you after the ball.”

  “I see,” Clara said, looking down at the bed. “And was that—all you said about me?”

  “It was, Madam,” Nora replied. “I thought it best to not speak of my running into you in the kitchen just hours ago—when you had come in from outside.”

  Clara did not look her in the eye. “Then I may count on your discretion?”

  “I used to be housekeeper in a grand house like this, Mrs. Collins. There are always secrets to be kept and maids who must show discretion.”

  “The conversation I had last night in the courtyard…may I rely on you to be discrete about that as well?”

  Nora looked at her smugly. “I think I might be persuaded.”

  Clara raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re asking a lot of me, Mrs. Collins—much more than a Mistress usually asks of a mere housemaid.”

  Clara had a sinking feeling and regretted that she asked Nora to bring the breakfast. “What do you want?” she asked in a low voice.

  “I only would like a position in the house respective to the secrets I keep for its Mistress,” Nora replied.

  Clara sighed. “Very well. I’ll tell Fiona that you may attend me now instead of Jane. We will call you senior housemaid.”

  Nora frowned at her. “I am capable of much more than that, Mrs. Collins.”

  “I don’t understand what position you want, then,” Clara said impatiently.

  “I think I could manage the house in a way that pleases you,” Nora replied.

  Clara scoffed. “How would I explain such a transition to Fiona, or the others?”

  Nora shrugged slightly. “Fiona was supposed to ensure the masquerade ran perfectly, but after the failure that it was…perhaps she should not be surprised if you wanted someone else to run things.”

  Clara was quiet while she contemplated the changes that Nora was asking for.

  Outside the house, Sam observed that Fi
ona was standing near the servants’ door, looking into the distance. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  Fiona jumped when she heard his voice. “No, I’m not alright,” she said, but would not look him in the eye. “I barely slept. I’ve been afraid since Mr. Collins was found.”

  Sam did not seem bothered. “Well, he only got what he had coming to him. If you knew what he did to my sister, you would know how well he deserved it.”

  Fiona was aghast. “Sam—what have you done?”

  “Me? I haven’t done nothing!” he cried defensively.

  “Oh—then it wasn’t you—who—?” Fiona stammered.

  The hurt was evident in his eyes. “You think I had something to do with this?”

  “I—I’m sorry—it’s just that you were so mad after Mr. Collins tricked you with that contract! You said you would make him pay, and I was afraid when I heard something happened to him!”

  “Mr. Collins was a bad man, but it wasn’t me who did that to him,” he said emotionally, turning his face away from her. “If you want to know what really happened to him last night, then maybe you should ask your sister!” Sam hurried away before Fiona could see how much her comment had upset him.

  Fiona remained at the servants’ entrance, stunned at the suggestion that Sam had made before he left. She wondered what Bridget could have known about any of it, when Nora walked out the servants’ door to speak to her. “The Mistress wishes to have a word with you,” she sneered, looking Fiona up and down. “She’s in her room.”

  Fiona turned to look at her. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she demanded.

  Nora smiled wickedly. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Fiona stumbled into the house, taking each heavy step up the servants’ stairs, while a feeling of dread came over her. She became convinced that Clara learned about her hiding Bridget in the house. When Fiona entered Clara’s bedroom, it was all she could do to remain upright. “You wished to see me, Madam?”

  Clara swallowed the lump in her throat. “What I have to say is very difficult for me, after how well you have served this house in the past years…”

  Fiona hung her head in shame. “Am I being fired?”