Murder At Rudhall Manor (16 page)

Thunder roared ominously. The clouds rushed forward and
gobbled up the sun. Lightning streaked across the sky and hail rattled the
windows of Rudhall Manor.

"I know," Lucy growled at the great being that
controlled all destinies, "that I am in mortal peril. You don't need to
make the sky roar for me to understand. My head is not stuffed with cotton
wool."

The great being who controlled all destinies seemed to
mockingly raise his bushy eyebrows, for the wind picked up speed and the hail
clattered harder on the panes.

Lucy narrowed her eyes, clasped her hands behind her back
and resumed pacing the hallway.

The conversation with Lord Adair had been futile. He had
neither calmed her fears nor left her a trembling mess. What he had done was to
make her realise that all her findings were worth naught.

She once again suspected everyone and believed no one.

She absently chewed on a ragged nail. At the Brooding
Cranesbill, Miss Hardy had been partial to a few girls, and because of her
fragmented vision she had often ended up unjustly punishing some innocent
orphans.

What if she too was looking at the problem through a pin
hole? Perhaps if she scratched away at the hole and made it bigger she would
come upon the truth.

She recalled looking at a painting a five year old girl had
drawn once. She had oohed and aahed at the blob thinking the young girl had
sketched out a stem of a mushroom.

The girl had informed her that it was, in fact, an elephant
leg. Elephants, the girl had importantly continued, were large animals. So
large that she couldn't possibly draw the entire animal on such a small sheet
of paper. After that, Lucy's praise for the painting had been genuine. It was a
novel way of thinking.

Was she once again looking at the mushroom stem and not the
elephant?

She tried to expand her mind. She pretended she was floating
along with Aunt Sedley a few feet away from Rudhall Manor and inspected the
deformed architecture from afar.

It was a crooked, grey manor that rose up from the ground
like a lopsided warty toad squatting on a gently sloping hill.

The numerous windows gleaming together in a straight line on
the lower half of the building made it seem as if the toad was grinning like a
lecherous landlord.

The windows glinted harder in the sunlight, flashing yellow
like chipped, stained teeth as if daring her to come closer.

She bravely propelled her imaginary self-nearer to the
building and found herself peering in through a glassless window.

 An empty room lay beyond, devoid of human life,
neglected and rotting away.

She moved from window to window, flying around the building
taking note of the dozens of rooms that lay empty and unused visited only by
rats and spiders.

She blinked back to the present with a crucial question
blazing in her mind.

Was someone hiding in one of the locked rooms in the house?

Even the grounds were large, sprawling and overgrown, she
mused, as she recalled the abandoned orangery she and Lord Adair had hidden
themselves in to evade the Egyptian crane.

Anyone could be living in such a building. It was ideal for
someone seeking peace, solitude or a hideout.

She frowned. But why would anyone choose to dwell with
spiders and rats? Was it a poor vagrant or someone more sinister?

Lord Sedley had been despised by his own family members and
servants. It was possible that there were still others who loathed him. He
could have wronged a friend, cheated an acquaintance or insulted a sensitive
relative.

Was that what Lord Adair was hinting at? Did one of the
rooms hide an old angry relative who had crawled out at five in the evening
that fateful day.

Lucy skidded to a halt.

It was all too possible. A shoeless woman with long matted
hair could have slithered out of one of the abandoned rooms.

 Hungry for tea she would have meandered down the
hallway when all of a sudden she would have paused and cocked her skeletal head
… She had heard something … a snore … a dark, treacherous snore emerging from
Lord Sedley's ill-omened nostril.

She would have smiled, her front tooth would have twinkled,
and a dagger would have appeared in her hand—a long silver dagger with a sharp
edge that glittered along with her twinkling tooth.

The dagger had shimmered, the tooth had twinkled.

The tooth had twinkled and the dagger had shimmered.

Dagger, tooth … dagger, tooth … tooth, dagger … tooth,
dagger and—

Stab, stab, stab, slash.

Lord Sedley was dead.

After the horrible deed, she would have wiped the knife
clean on her moth eaten, filthy dress, stolen a piece of cake, two spice
biscuits and a cigar lying on the study table and slithered back to her room.

Lighting the cigar, she had puffed away enjoying the peace
that the act of murdering a nincompoop had brought to her soul.

She had puffed and puffed and puffed while the smoke from
her cigar had formed visions in the air. They reminded her of the happy days
when she had been Lord Sedley's mistress.

The smoke had curled and reformed to throw up darker
memories that spoke of neglect and abandonment.

The grey mist had then swirled faster and faster becoming
dangerous like a gathering storm as she recalled how she had threatened to tell
his wife of their affair.

Lord Sedley, with all his faults, had loved his wife. He had
locked away his mistress in one of the many empty rooms of the manor to prevent
the truth from coming out. He had kept her like a bird in a golden cage until
one fateful day she found a way to escape her room—

Lucy ran into a standing armour and her fantastic tale came
to an abrupt end. She rubbed her bruised head waiting for the stars floating in
front of her eyes to disappear completely before making way towards her
bedroom.

This new line of thought where someone hiding in the manor
had murdered Lord Sedley seemed to ring right. She pondered over this new
discovery for a while. She dissected the thought, upturned it, peered at it
from side to side, bottom to top and then back again.

Her face was flushed and her brow fevered by the time she
had finished thinking. The sweat on her skin seemed to mock the flecks of snow
that had replaced the noisy rain outside.

She entered her room and walked up to the basin filled with
icy water. She quickly splashed her face and wiped her face dry with a muslin
cloth before the muscles in her face could freeze.

Refreshed, she once again began plucking at the thought that
a stranger was residing in Rudhall Manor. A stranger filled with bitterness and
hate who skulked around in the dark and went about stabbing people.

And while she plucked away at the thought, teased it and
unravelled it, her eyes landed on a beautifully carved wooden box sitting in
the middle of the bed.

It was a medium sized rosewood box, hard to miss against the
white bed sheet. The top of the box was painted in muted greens and soft pinks,
while the catch was polished gold.

She gulped.

A pretty box, a box that looked expensive—a box that was not
hers—was sitting in the middle of the bed.

She looked around the room and swayed. Her green travelling
dress was draped on the back of the chair. Her grey slippers sat neatly in one
corner. The half-finished letter to her bosom friend Charlotte had ended up on
the floor.

It was definitely her room, but—her eyes swivelled back to
the bed—the box … the box was not hers.

With trembling legs she moved closer to the box. It was as
if she was terrified it would suddenly leap into the air and bite her.

She lurched forward and bravely touched the lid.

 She was afraid of opening it and confirming her
suspicions ….

But it had to be done.

A deep breath later she snapped it open and stared at the
contents.

Her entire body started trembling, her breath came in
shallow gasps and her eyes widened in horror.

Someone gasped behind her.

She turned around to find the butler staring at the box.

A moment later, he gave a full throated cry which rang
through the house. "I found the thief, I found the thief, I fooouuund the
jewel thieeeeef!"

Lucy's knees gave away and she collapsed on the bed. She had
been looking for the jewels all over the house, and here it was, the very same
jewellery box relaxing in the middle of her bed, staring up at her, looking
mighty pleased with itself.

She was doomed.

The thick noose hopped over and began knocking insistently
against her frightened head.

What sort of a daft fool would leave a fortune on her bed,
Lucy wondered. If only the butler had not come upon her at the moment of
discovery, she would have shot out of Rudhall Manor, escaped to the nearest
port and set sail for exotic lands.

She wondered if she would have liked living in France. She
could have fashioned herself into some sort of an English countess, found a
dashing lord to marry … or perhaps Spain. Spain was warm and she did so love
Spanish oranges. All day she would sit on the porch eating oranges upon oranges
and then some more oranges spitting out the pips trying to shoot them as far
possible—

Lord Adair touched her elbow and pulled her back to the
present.

"We need to tie her up," Elizabeth was saying.
"I cannot have a loony murderer running around the mansion while I sleep."

Everyone had congregated in the morning room. Sixteen cups
of coffee had been consumed while all shapes of eyeballs had tried to pierce
Lucy's nervous skull.

"Is there no way we can send her away tonight, Lord
Adair?" Lady Sedley asked. She was sitting on the sofa, or rather half
lying on it. Her pale hand was resting on the back of the sofa, the other
draped artistically over the arm. Her thin white robe had slipped off one
shoulder and her left ankle was on shameless display.

Lord Adair ignored the ankle and the exposed white neck.
"I am afraid it is late. Besides, the roads are blocked with snow. The
carriage won't be able to leave the village. I don’t want to take a risk in
case she escapes during the journey."

Lucy widened her eyes, silently appealing to all those
around her. She tried to move her facial muscles to look as innocent as
possible. She begged them to take one look at her forlorn face, to dive into
the depths of her pupils and splash around a bit to judge the truth for
themselves. She had not stolen anything or murdered anyone.

"Her old room," Lady Sedley said stifling a yawn,
"is on the first floor and has a sturdy lock." She pulled out a bunch
of keys from the pocket of her robe and tossed it towards Lord Adair.
"Lock her in. We can deal with her in the morning."

"Lord Sedley," Lord Adair asked turning to Peter,
"do you approve of the plan?"

Peter looked up, his expression anguished. "You should
have told me you had the jewels," he said looking at Lucy. "I could
have done something … anything. It wouldn’t have come to this."

Elizabeth gasped. "You are feeling sorry for this
creature?"

"Love has blinded you," Ian said in sympathy.
"I understand all too well." He sighed heavily.

"Perhaps," Peter said softly, his eyes refusing to
leave Lucy's face.

Lucy blushed and looked away. This was awful. A man was
declaring his love for her for the first time in her life, and all she could
wish at the moment was to silence the blithering, love-struck idiot.

Couldn’t he see this was not the hour to spout such
nonsense? She stood accused of crimes, and instead of saying he did not believe
she could commit such acts, he was moaning about how he loved her in spite of
her penchant for murder and theft.

She glared at him. He could save her instead of gently nudging
her towards a high cliff and then lovingly pushing her off.

"I am going to bed," Elizabeth said. She stood up,
eyed Lucy like she was a loathsome insect one final time, before gliding out of
the room.

Lord Adair gripped Lucy's resigned elbow and gently steered
her out of the room.

Head bent low she allowed her elbow to be led towards her
old room. A room she would have been happy to see again had the circumstances
been different.

Outside the room, Lord Adair tilted her chin up and asked
gently, "Do you need anything from the basement for the night? Your
nightgown or a book?"

Lucy shook her head. She doubted she would be able to sleep
at all.

He searched her face. When she refused to meet his gaze, he
let his hand fall.

She stepped away watching him test the keys to check which
one fit the lock.

The keys jangled loudly as he sifted through, and taking
advantage of the din, he said softly, "I know you are innocent."

Lucy swivelled her face towards him so fast she made herself
dizzy.

"Eh?" She wasn't sure if she had heard him
correctly.

The key turned in the lock, and he gestured towards the
door. "This is necessary. Have patience."

"I will be dead by the time you solve this crime,"
Lucy whispered bitterly.

Footsteps sounded behind them.

Lord Adair pressed his lips together and slightly shook his
head in warning.

She was not a halfwit, she growled to herself. She knew when
to keep silent. He did not need to be so patronising. She marched into the
room, her head held high.

"Do not try and do anything foolish, and do not
worry," he ordered quietly just before slamming the door shut and locking
her in.

Lucy worried.

If Lord Adair knew who the culprit was, then why didn’t he
catch the person, torture him a little bit and get him to confess the truth? Or
was he trying to indulge her, telling her he knew she was innocent while he
coaxed her all the way to the continent.

"I am getting married," Aunt Sedley announced
whizzing into the room.

"Congratulations," Lucy said sourly.

"You can be a little more enthusiastic," Aunt
Sedley grumbled. Her upside down face danced in front of Lucy's unhappy
eyeballs. "I have never been married before."

"I didn’t know ghosts could marry," Lucy replied.

"Well they can. It is in a fortnight, the wedding I
mean. I wish you could attend, but only the dead are allowed to witness the
ceremony. Besides you can't fly and I am getting married on a cloud—"

"I will attend your wedding."

"How?"

"I would be dead too. A ghost flying around. It doesn't
seem so bad. I can attend your wedding. I already know a spirit … The noose
will hurt, but after that—"

Aunt Sedley flipped in the air to stand upright. "Did
something happen tonight?"

"The thief left the box of jewels on my bed. The butler
caught me with it."

Aunt Sedley whistled making the pillow leap in the air, roll
onto the ground and cower under the bed in fright. "Now what?"

Lucy shrugged. "We plan your wedding."

Aunt Sedley clucked sympathetically, "Make sure you
wear a pretty dress when you die. You will have to wear it for the rest of
eternity. We can't change clothes."

"Anything else?"

"I will find you a handsome spirit to marry. A dashing,
dangerous one who will float you off your feet."

Lucy nodded.

"Miss Trotter," Aunt Sedley said gently, "you
don't have to hang. You have a way out."

Lucy closed her eyes. "I know."

Aunt Sedley patted her on the head. "I have to go now.
Mr Brown had something important to tell me … Will you be fine on your
own?"

Lucy forced a smile.

"Well, then … I will see you later. And, Miss Trotter,
don't worry. If things don't go your way … being a ghost is not so bad."

Lucy stayed silent.

"I will see you later," Aunt Sedley soothed one
final time. "Don’t forget you have a way out … way out … way out …."

After the spirits departure, Lucy pulled open the curtains
and stared at the moon. It was full and bright and happy looking.

How many more moons would she get to see from earth?

The three stars standing together in a row twinkled down at
her. Don't be so bloody morbid they seemed to advise her. Save your bacon they
continued.

She stared at the dark frosty ground, the dew twinkling in
the moonlight on blades of grass and the endless forest in the distance.

Aunt Sedley had been right. She had a way out and she would
have to risk it.

She had but one choice left. She would have to run away
tonight.