The Daughters Of Red Hill Hall (22 page)

As if reading her mind Don crossed towards the left-hand doorway and beckoned her to follow. ‘This room was the wine cellar.’ He shone his torch around and the remains of wine racks were visible in the gloom. ‘But I think I’d use the first room for wine.’

‘You’ll have staff running up and down those stairs all day. Is that safe?’

‘I’d only store surplus stocks down here, and the expensive wines that we don’t sell often but that need to be kept in the right environment. The everyday bottles would stay upstairs in easy reach of the dining room.’

‘What’s through there?’ Gemma pointed to another archway in the corner.

‘Come and see. Mind, the floor’s a bit uneven here.’

She shone her torch downwards and picked her way across the flagstones. The arch led to another cellar, with a vaulted brick ceiling. There was a set of crumbling steps leading up on one side. She felt a jolt of recognition as she realised those must be the steps that led to the kitchen garden, the route by which the killer was supposed to have entered and left. She shone her torch towards the steps. ‘Is the door at the top in use?’

‘No. On the outside it is completely smothered by ivy. Another job on the list – to cut that right back and rediscover the door.’

‘It led to the old kitchen garden, I believe.’

‘Which is now just an overgrown area at the back of the house, that I have not yet had chance to tackle,’ Don said. ‘It’s out of view of the main guest areas so has been low down on the list of priorities. I’d like to rebuild a kitchen garden here. It’d be useful to grow our own herbs and some seasonal veg. If you find any clues amongst those papers as to what it would have looked like, pull them out for me, will you?’

‘Sure, will do.’

They retraced their steps back to the first room, then looked through the other doorway leading off. This led into another brick-vaulted cellar, with what looked like a hole in the ceiling.

‘The coal cellar,’ Don explained. ‘Somewhere up above there’ll be a trapdoor, and the coal was tipped down the chute to land in a pile in here. There’s still a few pieces left around the edges of the space.’

‘I wonder in which cellar the girls were found,’ Gemma said. ‘I don’t know why, but I have a feeling it was the first one, where the old cupboard was.’ She turned to go back into that room, and shone her torch into the corners of the room. She found herself wondering if there’d be any trace of blood left, but the floor in this room was made of dark red quarry tiles, rather than the paler flagstones in the wine cellar.

‘The girls could have come down from the house, and the murderer came in through the garden entrance. He could have been hiding in one of those other cellars and confronted them here,’ Don said. ‘It’s pretty spooky, isn’t it, imagining what happened right here, so long ago. When was it, again?’

‘1838. Getting on for two hundred years ago.’

‘Wow. Well, I don’t think I should keep you down here any more, in the gloom, when there’s all that lovely paperwork for you to get stuck into. Cup of coffee before you get going?’

‘That’d be lovely, thanks.’ Gemma followed him up the stairs and back into the servants’ passage. She felt relieved to be back in the light, in fresh air. ‘Phew. Bit creepy down there, if I’m honest.’

He chuckled. ‘Yep, I’d agree with that. I’ll get some proper lighting installed before I venture down again. Or at least hang up an inspection lamp on a long lead. Right then, refreshment before we get on with our respective jobs.’ He led the way to the library bar and ordered the coffees.

Gemma took a seat in the corner of the bar. It was lovely that Don seemed so keen on her research. She supposed it was natural, since he now owned the hall, but she couldn’t help wondering if there was some other reason for his interest, something he wasn’t telling her. It didn’t matter if there was – she was happy to do the research and write up the history, and he seemed delighted to let her do it. He’d offered to pay her for her time as well. It couldn’t be a better arrangement.

She smiled happily to herself and glanced around the bar. There were a few other guests. With a start she realised she recognised a couple sitting at the opposite end of the bar. The woman spotted her at the same time and came over.

‘Gemma! Hey, nice to see you. We’re here reminiscing about our wedding. Can you believe we’ve been married two months already?’

‘Anna! Wow, two months. Doesn’t time fly?’ Gemma forced herself to smile. Of course she realised it was two months. Two long months since she’d last seen Ben, when he was snogging Nat. Anna and Jake were looking tanned and relaxed. ‘How was your honeymoon?’

‘Fantastic. Really good. We were in Corfu. Had a relaxing time on the beach and sipping cocktails all day. It was perfect, wasn’t it, Jake?’ Anna turned to her new husband who’d come to join them.

‘Yes, lovely. What brings you here today?’

‘Research. Oh, Don, this is Anna and Jake, my friends. They got married here recently. Anna, Jake, Don’s the owner of the hotel.’

Don shook their hands. ‘I remember. Mr and Mrs Byatt, isn’t it? Welcome back to Red Hill Hall. Gemma, I’ll leave you with your friends, then. Come and find me later if you need a break from your research.’ He picked up his coffee and left the bar.

‘New man?’ Anna asked.

‘No, of course not!’ Gemma was hurt. How could Anna think she’d forget her brother so quickly?

‘Sorry, that was crass of me. I apologise. Jake’s always saying I need to think before I speak. To be honest, I still can’t believe you and Ben aren’t together any more. After all those years.’ She shook her head sadly.

‘Well, he seemed to move on quickly enough, but I can’t. Not yet.’ Anna had always been a good friend, but it felt weird discussing her love life with Ben’s sister.

‘What do you mean, moved on? I don’t think he has at all. He spends his days moping around. I don’t understand why he broke things off if it makes him so sad. I said that to him, as well, but he won’t talk to me about it. Has he contacted you at all?’

‘No.’

‘He’s an idiot. You and he were so good together.’

‘He obviously didn’t think so. And he has moved on. He’s on holiday with his new girlfriend this week – if that’s not an indication of having moved on I don’t know what is.’ Gemma tried but failed to keep the bitter tone out of her voice.

Anna looked puzzled. ‘Holiday? New girlfriend? What are you talking about?’

‘He’s in Tenerife. With my one-time best friend Nat.’ Gemma felt her eyes welling up as she said this.

‘Oh, sweetheart, come here.’ Anna reached over the table and put an arm around Gemma’s shoulders. ‘Look I don’t know quite what’s going on here, and it’s probably none of my business – no, hey, it IS my business. He’s my kid brother, and he’s stupid. And you – well I’d begun thinking of you as the sister I never had but soon would have, if you know what I mean. Anyway. Ben is most certainly
not
in Tenerife. He’s at Mum and Dad’s house this week, helping Dad with a bit of decorating. He’s moping around, not going out at all, has a face as long as a wet weekend and is driving Mum mad. He’s not seeing Nat. Or anyone else. I’d know if he was.’

Gemma frowned at Anna, trying to take all this in. ‘But at your wedding, they were snogging. I saw them.’

‘I saw that too, and questioned him about it. Just a drunken mistake, he said, and it sounded to me as though Nat practically forced herself on him. She’d had a few too many as well. Don’t read anything into it. He hasn’t seen her since our wedding as far as I know. Mum doesn’t think he’s been out at all other than to work. She’s been worried about him, but he won’t talk to her any more.’

A drunken mistake. At home decorating, not on holiday. Moping around the house. Hadn’t seen Nat since the wedding. Nat came on strong to him, not the other way round as Nat had said. Well, given what else Nat had done since then, Gemma could believe Nat had lied. She opened her mouth to say something but felt lost for words.

Anna hugged her again. ‘Honestly, Gemma, you have to believe me. Frankly I think he’s regretting the break-up but doesn’t know what to do about it. I have no idea what possessed him to end your engagement. He’s a stupid bugger, if you’ll pardon the technical term. If you have any feelings for him still, then, well, I wish you and he would talk about it. Maybe you can work something out.’

Gemma blinked away tears. ‘I don’t know, Anna. He hurt me a lot when he ended things. I’d been so happy, and then suddenly he pulled the rug out from under my feet. It’ll take a lot to come back from there.’

Anna nodded. ‘Yes, it will. But I’m sure he still loves you, and if you still love him, then it’s worth a go, isn’t it? There must be some explanation for what he did. He won’t tell me, but if you were to talk to him, properly talk, then maybe…’

‘Maybe.’ Gemma smiled weakly. Perhaps Anna was right. Perhaps she should call Ben and give him a chance to explain himself. Did she want him back? She looked deep inside herself. Yes, she darned well did want him back! If Anna was right and there was nothing between him and Nat, she wanted an explanation and then a reconciliation. But did she have the courage to be the one to make the first move? It was Ben who’d broken things off. He should be the one to call her and explain, apologise, and beg her to take him back. She’d make him suffer, oh yes, but probably only for a second or two, before she fell into his arms and forgave him.

Chapter 20

September 1838

It was three weeks since the ‘accident’, as Rebecca referred to it privately. Sarah had been buried in the churchyard, beside Mr and Mrs Winton. Rebecca had refused to allow her to be in the same plot, or have her name added to the Wintons’ headstone. She had not attended the funeral, pleading too much pain from her shoulder. The household was beginning to run on an even keel again, and Rebecca was able to be up and about for several hours each day. Her wound was recovering well, although she could not lift her right arm above chest height, and the doctor had said that it was quite possible she never would again. But she was alive, and other than that, well, and had much to be grateful for. So said the vicar, Reverend Theobald, at least. She could so easily have died when that ruffian murderer broke in. And then what would have become of the house and the estate and all the people living and working here? It was as well she had survived and now her duty was to the staff. He had given her a long lecture on this, when he came to call after the funeral.

But was the estate even hers? She had yet to meet up with the solicitor, Mr Neville. He had been in London on business and although he had written to her since the accident, sending his condolences on the loss of Sarah and promising to visit as soon as he was able to, he had not confirmed that the estate would actually pass to her. Rebecca felt as though she was in limbo.

Finally, the news she had been waiting for arrived. A letter from Mr Neville, saying he would call the next day to meet with her. Rebecca had risen early and made an effort with her appearance. She’d spent the time since breakfast sitting with a book in the drawing room, awaiting his arrival.

At last there was a tap at the door, and Spencer entered, announcing the arrival of Mr Neville. ‘Shall I show him into the library, Miss Winton?’

‘Yes please.’ Rebecca stood up and straightened her skirts. Her shoulder was aching badly today. Perhaps she had been holding herself too tensely. ‘Send in some refreshments in a short while, Spencer.’

‘Certainly.’ Spencer bowed and stood aside. As she passed him she tried to catch his eye, wondering once more whether he suspected she’d had anything to do with Sarah’s death. But he kept his eyes cast downwards.

‘Miss Winton, it is a pleasure as always to see you again, though I am deeply sorry about the circumstances. Poor Miss Cooper. What a terrible, tragic event. And I hope you are well recovered now?’ Mr Neville bowed as Rebecca entered the library and took a seat near the window, holding her right arm across her chest as always, so as not to pain her shoulder.

‘I am not fully recovered, but am well enough,’ she answered.

‘You have lost your father and friend in such a short space of time. And it is not much more than a year since your dear mother met with her accident. So much loss. Not to mention Mr de Witt, who was of course your fiancé.’

‘Yes.’ There was an edge to his voice that she didn’t like.

Mr Neville looked her squarely in the eye. ‘Far too much death for one household. Almost seems too much of a coincidence.’

‘I agree, there has been far too much death.’ She held his gaze. She had not for one moment thought that Mr Neville of all people might suspect not all the deaths were accidents. But he seemed to be implying that her parents’ and Charles’s deaths weren’t natural. Surely he couldn’t think she had anything to do with those events?

‘Your mother fell down the stairs. Your fiancé was found drowned in a well shortly after breaking off your engagement. Your father died very suddenly. You were naturally shocked and upset that the estate was left to Sarah and not you, and then within a few weeks Sarah also died, shot by some mysterious man who has not been named or found. It is all very odd, don’t you think?’

‘Mr Neville, what exactly are you implying?’ Facing him head on seemed to be the only way forward.

‘I am implying nothing, my dear, only voicing the kind of suspicions that others are sure to have. Indeed, some folk are already questioning what has been happening here.’ He brought a sheet of newspaper out of his pocket. ’Tis only a gossip magazine, but you should be aware of what people are saying.’

Rebecca took the paper and scanned the article he pointed to. ‘
“The Curse of Red Hill Hall”
. Oh, for goodness’ sake. What is this paper?
County Tall Tales?
They’ll print any old rubbish to titillate their readers.’

‘Yes, of course, but readers will think there is no smoke without fire, and will wonder if there is any truth in the matter.’

‘Mr Neville, you have known me since I was a child. I loved my mother and father immensely and of course I had
nothing
to do with their deaths. My father, as you know, died of a heart attack – an entirely natural death. I – I will admit it, I loved Mr de Witt as well, and although I was heartbroken when he broke off our engagement, that did not drive me to try to end his life. You think I pushed him in the well? What a ridiculous notion!’