Finished Off (A Bellehaven House Mystery Book 2) (5 page)

The circumstances surrounding Kathleen's death had been deemed sensational enough to warrant a cover story in the
Post
, much to the dismay of everyone involved.

Stuart Hamilton had gone so far as to protest to the editors, but by then, of course, it was too late. Bellehaven had suffered a notoriety that would take some time to live down.

Luckily, situated in the sleepy little village in the heart of the Cotswolds, the school was fairly insulated from the kind of exposure it might have had in national newspapers had it resided in a town the size of Witcheston. Which was good for teachers and students alike.

Settling herself down on her favorite brocade chair, Meredith opened up the
Post
. Relieved to see no mention of Bellehaven on the front page, she flipped it open to glance through the other three pages.

She'd read somewhere that news ages fast, and that had to be the case, since there was no mention of Kathleen, or Bellehaven, anywhere on the pages. Sighing in relief, Meredith leaned back and began reading.

It was on the third page that she spotted it. Just a short paragraph or two about an orphanage near Witcheston, which had recently benefited from a wealthy landowner's will.

Intrigued by the generous gesture, Meredith scanned the lines. The orphanage was owned by the county, and the councilors would use the money to buy new beds and refurbish the kitchen.

There was a rather scratchy picture of the institution, and Meredith felt a pang of sorrow for the little ones incarcerated in that gloomy building. How sad. What a dismal start to a young life.

She gazed at the picture for a few moments, imagining mournful and hopeless children wandering the halls. It must be so miserable to work there.

How lucky she was, to work in this bright and beautiful mansion, with its gray walls reflecting the sunlight and its charming flower gardens that Kathleen had tended so diligently.

In spite of the tension she felt when meeting with Stuart Hamilton, she would be forever grateful that he had the vision to buy the home from its impoverished owner and turn it into the select institution it had become.

Bellehaven had earned a reputation among the more affluent members of London's society, and in spite of the unfortunate recent events, she and her fellow teachers would continue to educate and inform young ladies how to take their place among London's elite for many years to come. Smiling, Meredith returned to her reading.

She was deep in a story about suffragettes who had invaded a golf course and, using a trowel, had dug out the words
Votes for Women
across the middle of the eighteenth green, when Felicity barged through the door.

"I just cannot believe she would be that stupid," she declared, throwing the words over her shoulder to Essie, directly behind her.

"I'm so sorry, Felicity. I can imagine how terribly frustrating it can be."

Essie's soothing tones apparently had no effect on Felicity, who flung herself down on a chair with a low growl. "Drat the woman, that's what I say. Nincompoops like that should be banned from female company."

Meredith lowered her paper. "What has happened now?" She had not a single doubt as to whom Felicity referred. Her friend had clashed with Sylvia Montrose from the very beginning, and it seemed as though nothing would ever change Felicity's opinion of Stuart Hamilton's protégeé.

"That Montrose woman, of course." Felicity raised a hand and gestured in midair. "I happened to pass her in the hallway just now. She was talking to a group of our students and telling them . . . " She paused, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe what she was about to say. "She actually told them that if they wanted a place in heaven, they will shun the women's movement and remain beholden to the men who will eventually provide for them. Ugh!"

Meredith sighed. "I suppose it's too much to hope that you didn't comment."

Felicity sat up straight. "Comment? Of course I commented! I told her she was completely archaic, both in her thinking and her teaching. I told her that the world is changing, and she had better get on the bandwagon or she'd end up a miserable, downtrodden slave to some arrogant brute who would make her do despicable things to earn her keep. That's if any man would be desperate enough to take on that harridan."

"Oh, Felicity." Meredith briefly covered her face with her hands.

"What?" Felicity sounded offended. "I didn't actually say the last part. Besides, I only told her the truth."

"In front of the students?"

Meredith's last hope was dashed when Felicity murmured, "They all applauded."

"You realize, of course, that she will go straight to Stuart Hamilton with this. She'll accuse you of undermining her authority."

"Poppycock."

"It's a legitimate charge, Felicity."

Meredith received the full force of Felicity's baleful glare. "I couldn't care less what Stuart Hamilton thinks. I'm within my right to state my opinion. I shall tell him so."

Knowing full well that it would be left to her to diffuse what could be a dangerous situation for her friend, Meredith sought to change the subject and pacify Felicity for the present.

"I read a story in the
Post
about the suffragettes." She handed the paper over to the still simmering teacher. "You'll most likely enjoy it. It's on page two."

She interpreted Essie's worried look and shook her head. All Felicity needed right now was a well-meaning lecture on tolerance from Essie. "I was also reading about an orphanage nearby," she said as Felicity took the paper from her. "Someone left them a great deal of money. It made me sad to think of those poor children, without a family to love them."

Felicity sniffed. "They're better off without family if their parents were anything like mine."

"It had an odd name." For a moment Meredith couldn't remember it, then it came to her. "Oh, yes, that was it. Chest House. Doesn't that sound utterly dismal? You'd think someone could conjure up a more cheerful name, like Rainbow House, or Sunrise Home, Pleasant Vista . . . " She smiled. "I think I'll write to them and suggest it."

Essie nodded in agreement. "Any of those would be better than Chest House. I wonder who thought that name would be good for an orphanage. How awful. Think of all those little boys and girls with sad eyes, desperately needing someone to love them. Why, it almost makes me want to cry."

There were actual tears on her long lashes, and Meredith felt sorry for upsetting her. She leaned forward to pat her hand, and as she did so, a vision of the child ghost popped into her mind. A little girl with sad eyes. Chest House.

She sat up, so suddenly Essie drew back, startled. "Good gracious, I wonder if that's what she meant!"

Essie's blue eyes regarded her in confusion. "If who meant what?"

Even Felicity lowered the paper and stared at her.

Meredith looked at each of them in turn. "My little ghost. She kept pointing at the chest. I wonder . . ."

"Oh, bosh, Meredith." Felicity rustled the paper and raised it again.

Essie kept on staring. "You think your ghost is someone from the orphanage?"

Meredith felt a twinge of excitement. "I don't know, Essie. But I certainly intend to find out. I shall go to this Chest House and make some inquiries."

"You're going to ask them if they sent you a ghost?"

Meredith winced at Felicity's bored tone. "No, of course not." She leaned back, her brow creasing in a frown. She would have to think of a way to ask about the little girl. Some way that wouldn't sound as if she were completely insane.

Perhaps she was being foolhardy, but this was the first glint of a clue to the child's identity. Something told her there could be a connection between her ghost and the orphanage, and in spite of what Felicity or anyone else thought, she would not leave that stone unturned.

Chapter 4

It was the following day before Meredith could pay a
visit to the orphanage. Being a Saturday, breakfast was served an hour later than usual. Then she had to give individual permission to all the students who wished to go into the village that afternoon.

By the time she had finished the rest of her duties, she was in a fever of impatience to be on her way. She considered inviting either Essie or Felicity to go with her, then decided against it.

Inquiring about an orphan who might have died at the hands of a killer was likely to be a delicate matter. She didn't need Felicity's cynicism or Essie's squeamish disposition to hamper her efforts in finding out what she could about the child.

After ordering the maintenance man to bring around the carriage, Meredith pulled on her best navy wool coat and her favorite Sunday hat trimmed with blue and white silk blossoms. She wanted to look her best for the coming visit.

Reggie Tupper had been in charge of Bellehaven's maintenance since before Meredith had taken a position at
the school. As such, he often felt entitled to a certain degree of familiarity with the staff, much to Felicity's wrath.

Although young in age, he had begun working at twelve years old, and knew the mechanical aspects of the vast, aging building better than anyone.

He also drove the carriage on the rare occasion that the teachers ventured beyond the village. For the most part Meredith put up with his impertinence, since he often came in handy whenever brute strength was needed, and he was usually most accommodating.

So when Reggie uttered a somewhat vulgar whistle at the sight of her, she chose to view it as a compliment.

"Whew, m'm, look at you. Going to meet a fancy gentleman, are we?"

"No, we are not." Meredith gathered up her skirts and stepped up into the carriage, ignoring Reggie's proffered hand. "We are going to the Chest House orphanage, on the road to Witcheston."

Reggie wrinkled his brow. "Orphanage?"

"Yes, I do believe I've seen it on passing. It's a large house that's almost hidden behind overgrown trees and shrubs. There's a rusty iron gate in front that leads up to the road."

Reggie still looked puzzled. "Well, I reckon you'll have to point it out to me when we get there." He closed the door and climbed up on his perch.

Meredith settled back against the leather seat. Since she didn't go out that often, she always enjoyed the ride to town. Crickling Green looked its best this time of year, when the leaves were on the turn and masses of daisies studded the grasslands.

The steady clip-clop of Major's hooves lulled her into a pleasant, restful state, and at times she was hard put not to fall asleep.

The road wound up to the crest of the hills, and from there she could see the honey-colored roofs of the village cottages glowing in the sun. The road led them past the ancient church of St. Edmund's, where the staff and students
of Bellehaven worshipped every Sunday, and where dear Kathleen had been laid to rest in the churchyard.

From there they traversed tree-lined hills and dales bathed in the crimson, gold, and copper hues of autumn, until finally the sharp, black and gray skyline of Witcheston gradually surfaced from behind the grassy slopes.

They had almost passed the orphanage when Meredith spied the rusty gate. Quickly she rapped on the window, and had to do so several times before she caught Reggie's attention.

He brought Major to a halt, climbed down, and opened the door. "I can't see no orphanage, m'm."

"That's because we passed it." She looked anxiously down the narrow lane at the thick hedges on either side. "Can you turn the carriage around and go back?"

Reggie's laugh was short and incredulous. "Not blooming likely, m'm. There's barely enough room for me to walk around here."

"Then I suppose we shall have to go to the next crossroads and turn around there."

"Right you are, m'm."

"Oh, and Reggie? The rusty gate I told you about. It's a short way behind us. On the left."

"Yes, m'm."

"Actually it will be on the right when we come back."

"Yes, m'm. I could work that one out for meself."

Meredith twisted her mouth in a wry grimace as he shut the door. There were times when she would like to box his ears. Though she had to admit, the school would be in poor shape were it not for Reggie's expertise. She shuddered to think what her new assistant would be like. She would probably have to lick her into shape before she got any real help out of her.

It seemed a long way before they reached the crossroads, two miles from the city outskirts according to the sign. Thank goodness they hadn't had to go into town before turning around.

She kept a sharp lookout on the way back, afraid to trust
Reggie and his wandering attention. He must have caught sight of the gate at the same time she did, however, since he pulled up just as she was reaching out to rap the window again.

Without waiting for him to attend to the door, she pushed it open herself and stepped down. He leapt down right in front of her, startling her into jumping back.

"I was about to open the door for you, m'm."

He sounded affronted, and anxious to make amends, she softened her tone. "I'm sorry, Reggie. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Would you mind waiting for me here? I shan't be long."

"Very well, m'm. I'll have a smoke while I'm waiting."

She nodded, and hurried over to the gate. As she did so, a shadow moved, close to the brick wall that surrounded the grounds of the orphanage.

At first she thought it might be sunlight playing tricks with her eyes as it filtered through the leafy branches of the elm trees. Then, just for a moment, she thought she saw the wispy shadow of a child, her blond hair gleaming in the rays of the sun.

Excitement gripped her and she started forward, but in an instant the vision vanished, and only the speckled silhouette of branches danced against the wall.

Had she imagined it, or had the child given her a sign that she had come to the right place? It had all happened so quickly it was hard to tell.

Anxious to get inside the orphanage now, she looked for a bell. There was no sign of one, however, and after a moment's hesitation, she laid a tentative hand on the gate and gave it a gentle push.