A Grave Inheritance (34 page)

‘Well, you do look in the wars, but it can’t be as bad as all that, surely. How did you get those bruises? Tell me what has happened.’ Lillian placed an arm around Sophia’s shoulder to comfort her. Sophia continued to sob.

‘I’ll make you a drink and something to eat and then you must tell me.’ Lillian said, pouring out tea. She placed a sandwich – a slice of beef and a smear of mustard in between two thick pieces of bread – in front of her niece. ‘Eat this first, you’ll feel better with something in your stomach.’

Ellen stirred from her seat by the fire and shifted to get more comfortable. She pretended to be asleep, listening to every word, as Sophia told Lillian what had happened.

***

Later that night in her room at Primrose Cottage, Sophia lay in bed, her face flushed and her eyes red from crying. She had told Lillian everything that had happened. Well no, not everything. Sophia hadn’t mentioned being with Freddie in the wood earlier that afternoon and how they had made love in a fairy ring. She thought it wiser to leave out those details. Her father’s anger was enough to contend with for the time being, without incurring Lillian’s disapproval.

A bright full moon shone through the thin curtains in her bedroom. Sophia pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes, but before she drifted off to sleep she heard a sound outside and she sat up to listen. Getting out of bed Sophia tiptoed to the window and could see someone standing below. Freddie, she thought with relief, and quietly she pushed up the sash window and leaned out. Straight away she realised it wasn’t Freddie, but Ellen. Turning her head towards her bedroom door she listened, wondering if Lillian knew her mother was outside at this time of night. Sophia glanced back outside and saw Ellen going across the garden. Another person was with Ellen now, and Sophia smiled, assuming Lillian and Ellen had gone out together to look for Freddie. She watched them both make their way down the path. Sophia thought she should go with them, but the idea of walking through the wood at night terrified her. Sophia decided to call Lillian and tell her to wait until daylight, and she leaned further out of the window. In the brightness of the full moon Sophia realised it wasn’t Lillian with Ellen after all, but a young girl about her own age. The girl was very thin and wore a mop cap; similar to the one Molly Pritchard wore to protect her hair. The girl’s hair hung down below her cap and almost reached her waist. Sophia wondered who she was and why she was following Ellen. Then Ellen turned and spoke to the girl, and her words carried up to Sophia in the still night air.

‘Hurry up, Amy, don’t dawdle.’

Sophia wondered where on earth they were going at this time of night. Feeling a sudden chill she closed the window and slipped back into bed, snuggling underneath the covers to get warm. ‘I must go and tell Lillian,’ Sophia murmured as sleep overcame her.

***

It was many years since Ellen had had a reason to go into Oakham Wood and she found it difficult to remember where the entrance from the garden was. She worked her way along the hedge looking for the gap, and she had almost given up when there it was. The hawthorn hedge had grown thicker over the years and in the dark the space was little more than a slit. In the moonlight Ellen could see the path behind it. She bent over and with her hands and arms pushed back bits of twigs, then went through the low breach in the branches. Amy followed. On the other side of the hedge Ellen peeped back into the garden and watched the kitchen door. She expected it to burst open at any minute and for Lillian to come out, calling for her. She grinned with relief, satisfied no one had realised she had gone out.

Making sure Amy was still with her, Ellen set off towards Tapscott Manor. The path was just as she remembered it. She hurried along, chiding Amy to keep up. Deeper in the wood, trees rose up on all sides and enclosed her, towering above her dark and tall. A dry wind made the branches creak and the leaves mumble in a fretful gossip.

Unafraid and determined Ellen glanced behind her now and then, just to check Amy was still with her. Except for the rustling above, the wood was otherwise quiet. Crunching along the gravel Ellen’s harsh breathing was the only other sound to disturb the peace. Head down she trudged along, heedless of her surroundings and the twists and turns in the path.

‘Lillian and Sophia didn’t realise I was listening,’ Ellen told the frail girl hurrying along beside her. ‘They call her Sophia now you know. Bah! She’ll always be Grace to you and me.’ Ellen smiled, remembering the warm embrace Grace had given her that evening before she went to bed. The smile soon left her eyes. ‘She doesn’t even know I’m her granny,’ Ellen told Amy.

Ellen knew tonight would probably be her only chance. She couldn’t let him get away with it again. Soon Ellen recognised the stone pillars of the old gate, covered with lichen and moss so that they almost blended with the trees. Ellen’s heart pounded in her chest and once through the gate, she rushed across the yard.

Ellen had banked on the kitchen being unlocked. It had always been so in her day when working there, as it allowed the staff to come and go as they pleased. Then at midnight it was locked by the butler, and any kitchen maid still out gallivanting had to make do with a stall in the stable for the night. Gingerly Ellen lifted the latch and pushed the door a few inches. She listened for any sounds. All was quiet so Ellen wasted no time. She took a tall candle from the box on the oak dresser and lit it. Memories flooded back to her and it didn’t take her long to get orientated in the house again. She made her way up the main staircase, dragging her feet up each step. When Ellen reached the first floor landing she made straight for the master bedroom. Stepping inside she shut the door quickly behind her. The moonlight cast an eerie glow over the furniture, which had been covered in sheets. Flummoxed, Ellen glanced around wildly. She had assumed Leo would use his parents’ bedroom after he’d married and his mother and father had moved to Scotland.

Ellen looked at Amy standing in the corner of the room, watching her. ‘Don’t worry love, we’ll find him.’ Then it dawned on Ellen where Leo would be, and she tutted in exasperation at her mistake. Grace had told Lillian that her father preferred his own rooms which were made up of a large bedroom and an adjoining sitting room, rather than the main suite his parents had used. Sylvia, however, preferred his parents’ rooms which had a larger bedroom with its own closet. Ellen rested her hand on the door handle, ready to leave the room. Where is Sylvia and why is all her furniture covered up, Ellen wondered.

Ellen knew the room had a secret passage, a narrow staircase leading down from the floor above and descending to the kitchen below. It was used by the servants when cleaning the rooms on the first floor and collecting laundry. Ellen found the small door hidden by a long drape to the side of the windows. Without thinking she tipped the candle to the edge of the curtain and watched as the blue smoke turned into a flame.

Back in the corridor, the candle firmly in her hand, Ellen half walked half shuffled down its length until she reached the end. There was a faint smell of smoke now, and behind her flames crackled as they ate into dry wood. Ellen felt elated.

Leo’s sitting room was arranged with two comfortable cushioned armchairs and a low table. The fire in the grate was almost out and only a few embers glowed. A red patterned rug was spread in front of the fireplace and Ellen felt its softness when her feet sank into its deep pile. It made Ellen feel as though she was walking on air and she imagined herself as an avenging angel. The door on the opposite wall was slightly ajar and Ellen moved towards it. Peeping around the door frame, Ellen saw Leo. He lay alone, asleep in a tall four-poster bed, his arms up around his head as though he knew his fate and had accepted defeat.

‘At last,’ Ellen whispered, and not able to resist, she laughed out loud, her voice raucous as she barked out in glee, ‘At last, you devil.’ Ellen didn’t care whether Leo heard her or not. She touched the drapes around the bed with the lighted candle, and Leo’s discarded clothes hanging over a wooden chair, and watched in delight as they ignited. She shuffled over to the window and set fire to the curtains.

Leo stirred. The acrid smoke began to fill his nostrils and he coughed, choking on the smoke. As he came fully awake he watched in horror as the small flames ran along the edge of his eiderdown. Leo pushed the covers away from him and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Above him the four-poster frame was on fire and for the first time in his life Leo was frightened. He grabbed a pillow and frantically swatted the creeping flames, crying out for his butler to help him. ‘Fire, Pritchard. Help me, fire, fire.’ Leo heard someone laughing and through the smoke he saw a woman standing by the door. Her laugh was a hollow sound, as if from the depths of hell. He called to her, ‘Help me.’ The bedclothes smouldered, and wisps of smoke curled and danced up in front of his eyes then burst into flames all around him.

At the sound of Leo’s screams, Ellen laughed, and when the heat and flames reached her, Ellen was filled with overwhelming happiness, because she knew her daughter Amy would be warm at last.

***

Tom Pritchard and his wife Molly lay asleep like two spoons in their bed on the floor above. When his wife began to cough, disturbing his sleep, Pritchard moved away from their embrace and lay on his back. Molly coughed again and sat up.

‘Tom, I can smell smoke.’ Molly took a sip of water from the glass on the bedside stand, trying to clear her dry throat.

Pritchard sat up. He could smell it too. He got out of bed and lit a candle then went to the bedroom door, and in the dim light he saw a trail of smoke seeping under the door. Out on the landing, he could see below him the whole of the first floor in flames. Back in his bedroom Pritchard grabbed a blanket and dragged Molly out of bed, then steered her towards the servants’ staircase at the end of the landing. Still in their nightclothes, they raced down the stairs, careful not to trip. Outside Sir Edmund and Lady Deverell’s old bedroom, on a narrow landing, smoke billowed out from under the small door, and Pritchard said a silent prayer, thanking God for Sylvia Deverell and her maid’s departure to Derbyshire earlier that evening. Tom wrapped the blanket around his and Molly’s heads and shoulders and together they crossed the landing and continued down the stairs, coming out in the laundry room and then the kitchen. Pritchard flung open the still unlocked door and pushed Molly outside.

‘Run to the stables, wake the lads, tell them to get the horses out and check the kennels. Tell them not to go into the house, and that goes for you too love.’ Pritchard hugged his wife and kissed the top of her head.

‘Why, where are you going? Don’t leave me, Tom.’ Molly began to cry.

‘There’s something I have to do. It won’t take long, trust me. Go on love, be quick. Raise the alarm.’ Pritchard turned on his heels and rushed back into the burning building, carrying the blanket.

Pritchard ran through the kitchen into the blazing hall then quickly unlocked the cellar door. He ran down the wooden steps to Freddie. Shaking the lad had no effect, so he draped Freddie over his shoulder and wrapped the blanket around them both as best he could. The steps were smouldering now so without hesitating, and holding onto Freddie’s dangling legs, he heaved himself up and out of the cellar. Smoke and flames were all around them, but instinctively Pritchard turned left and was soon in the kitchen again and then outside.

***

Sophia and Lillian slept on and it wasn’t until the next morning they heard what had happened and that Ellen was missing. Weeks later, firemen sifting through the debris at Tapscott Manor found Ellen’s charred remains, along with Leo Deverell’s.

Freddie Brock recovered, thanks to Tom Pritchard who had saved his life and who from then on became Woodbury’s local hero.

Chapter 36

DCI Montrose sat in his office at Chester police station twiddling his thumbs. His desk heaved with paperwork, his in tray and out tray overflowing. In front of him on his blotter pad, the only clear space, sat Lillian’s diaries. Montrose picked up the one on the top and flicked through it and then put it down again.

Montrose stood and adjusted the venetian blind on the window overlooking the main office where his colleagues were busy on the telephones or in front of computer screens. He opened his door and called out, ‘Any sign of them yet?’

A shake of a few heads and a ‘No, sir’ was mumbled in response.

‘Get DS Fielding on the phone,’ Montrose barked to no one in particular and then shut the door and went back to his desk. Heaving a sigh, Montrose retrieved a foolscap notepad from his desk drawer and placed it in front of him. It will probably remain blank, he thought, as he picked up Lillian’s diary dated 1911. There was nothing of interest in the first few months, but something of interest stood out clearly in the month of June. Montrose made a note of it on his writing pad, and intrigued he continued to read, making notes he thought could be relevant. He was just about to pick up the second diary when he heard a knock on his door. ‘Come in,’ Montrose called.

Rob Fielding stuck his head around the door. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, sir, I’ve put Miss Farrell in the interview room with a cup of coffee. She looks done in.’

‘Let’s see what she’s got to say for herself,’ Montrose said, following Fielding to the interview room. Did you bring Amelia and Leonie too?

‘They’re in the waiting area.’ DS Fielding confirmed.

***

‘Am I under arrest?’ Grace demanded, as soon as the two policemen entered the room.

‘Why do you ask? Should you be?’ Montrose questioned.

‘No, but I’m not a criminal, so why put me in here?’ Grace indicated the cell-like room, empty except for the table and four chairs nailed down to the floor. A high window behind her had bars across it and the atmosphere in the room felt threatening.

‘This is our formal interview room where we take statements. I’m sorry if it’s not to your taste,’ Montrose replied tiredly. It had been the early hours of the morning when he arrived home and he had slept badly. The coffin holding the two skeletons had played on his mind, as did Amelia Farrell.