The Daughters Of Red Hill Hall (26 page)

Rebecca thought quickly. The constable was close to the truth about Jed’s relationship with Sarah. Rebecca searched her soul. She did not want an innocent person to be accused of killing Sarah. But if Jed couldn’t be found, then for now at least he made a suitable scapegoat. It would stop the authorities from looking closer to home for a perpetrator. If he was found, he’d deny it of course, and hopefully he would be able to prove it wasn’t him. If necessary, she would do or say something – what, she didn’t know – to help get him off the hook. She’d certainly make sure he wouldn’t hang for it. But all the while he was missing he would serve her purposes nicely. Perhaps on hearing of Sarah’s death he had gone away to nurse his grief. As long as he stayed away all would be well.

‘Yes. That does sound possible. How terrible! Poor Sarah.’

‘I must ask again – can you remember anything at all about the man who shot you? We have a description of Jed Arthur from his sister. If your memories match her description, that would lend weight to my theory.’

She shook her head. ‘I am sorry, Constable. It is as I told you before – I really did not get sight of the man, and have no memory of the shooting.’ Whatever happened, she needed to keep her options open in case she needed to change her story to save Jed from being hanged for murder.

He sighed. ‘Never mind. Well, we now have someone to actively search for. There are notices going into local papers. He is unlikely to have gone far – he would not have the means to buy a coach ticket anywhere. He might have got a lift a short distance in a farmer’s cart but perhaps would not have wanted to risk being recognised or remembered. I suspect we will find him hiding in a barn somewhere within a ten-mile radius. Mark my words, Miss Winton. We’ll find him and bring him to justice.’

‘I do hope so,’ she said. Her mind was racing. She must find Jed before the constable did. Perhaps she could warn him he was wanted for the murder, and tell him to get away, out of the county. She could give him money to do so. She wouldn’t need to let on that it was in fact her who’d shot Sarah – that would be far too dangerous. She could just say that the constable thought it was Jed, but that she knew it could not have been, as Jed was a good man who’d cared for Sarah. He should take her words as a friendly warning – to get far away where the constable would not find him. And to never come back. Yes. This was her way out. But first she had to find Jed.

‘I’ll take my leave now, Miss Winton. My men and I have a fugitive to find.’ Constable Barnsworth nodded and strode towards the door of the room.

‘Good luck,’ she called after him. A thought struck her as she watched him leave. Sarah’s diary. What if she’d written about Jed in there? Perhaps there’d be some clue as to where he might have gone. That, and a visit to his sister, would be her best lines of enquiry.

Chapter 23

August 2015

Gemma ate her breakfast of smoked salmon and cream cheese on a bagel with a wide smile on her face. It wasn’t just the food, although such a decadent breakfast was a real treat. It was the fact that Ben, dear funny beloved Ben, was sitting opposite her eating his full English, and they had just spent the night together in a beautiful room in Red Hill Hall. They’d spent much of the night just talking and holding each other, and the rest of it making love and making up for lost time. Gemma reckoned she’d only had about three hours’ sleep but regardless, she’d never felt more invigorated and alive.

‘Happy?’ Ben said.

‘Just a bit,’ she replied, her grin widening. Her cheeks were already aching from continuous smiling and it was only nine a.m.

‘What’s the plan for today then? You going to show me this archive of documents? Perhaps I can help you go through it.’

‘Sure, yes let’s do that. But I also want to try to track down Nat again later today. I don’t believe she’s on holiday – that was all a lie, like everything else. Until I’ve confronted her with it all I don’t feel as though I can truly relax. I just want it out of the way.’

‘Want me to come with you?’

‘No. I have to talk to her alone.’ She reached a hand across the table to grasp Ben’s. ‘But thank you for offering. Love you.’

‘Love you, too.’ With his other hand he speared a piece of salmon from her plate and popped it in his mouth before she could stop him. ‘Mmm. Nice.’

‘You beast! That was mine.’ She stole a piece of crispy bacon in retaliation.

‘Oi, I was saving that piece till last!’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have stolen my salmon, should you?’ She stuck her tongue out at him.

‘When we’re married, what’s yours is mine, anyway.’

‘Who said we’re getting married?’ Her heart had leapt at the words. ‘You’ll need to ask me again.’

‘I will. Just give me time.’

Gemma smiled happily. Life was looking up. Just the confrontation with Nat to get out of the way.

A short while later they were back in the office Don had set aside. Gemma lifted down the box of paperwork. ‘Look, there’s all this to go through. I’ve begun sorting letters into date order but haven’t read any properly yet. It’ll take a while to tune into this old-fashioned handwriting.’

‘Yes, very curly and swirly, isn’t it?’ Ben picked up a letter from the top of a pile. ‘Wonder if there’s any juicy gossip in them or if it’s all just boring stuff.’

‘I won’t know until I’ve read them. I expect there’s a mixture but I really hope some of them are from around the time of all the deaths here, and they shed some light on it all.’

‘How far have you got with that research?’

‘Not very. I went through the online newspaper archives but that’s about all so far. There’s been too much other stuff on my mind, unfortunately.’

‘Sorry.’ Ben put his arm round her and kissed her cheek. ‘So let me read you this letter.
My dear Charles
. Ahem.’ He coughed and adopted a higher pitched voice and cultured accent. ‘
May deah Charles.’

Gemma laughed. ‘Give it here. A man called Charles de Witt was found drowned in the well. I wonder if it’s him?’ She scanned the letter, and then read it aloud.

My dear Charles
,

It pains me to write this letter to you but I feel as your friend I owe it to you to disclose certain facts. You have recently, as I understand it, proposed to Rebecca and she has accepted. I know that your parents, God rest their souls, had always wished for a union between our families. I know too that Rebecca’s parents wished it
.

But my dear Charles, you are presumably not aware that Rebecca herself has long dreaded such an event coming to pass. She has confided in me many times, hoping that you might look elsewhere for a spouse, that you would adopt a modern attitude and marry for love, and not just because this union is what was expected of you both
.

Poor Rebecca. When you asked for her hand she felt as though her life was over. She told me she felt a sinking of her heart and a deadening of her spirit. It was all she could do to put on a brave, happy face, and accept you. She did this for two reasons – because she was afraid turning you down would break her father’s heart, and for you. Because she is such a kind and gentle soul she did not want to let you down. You know Rebecca – you know how she always wants to please everyone, all of the time. It is one of her most endearing features but I am afraid it will be the undoing of her. Thankfully she has me at her side, and I am more able and willing to speak the truth. And that is the reason for this letter
.

Charles, I suspect you proposed only because it was expected of you. Perhaps you do have some feelings for her. But those feelings are not returned. I love Rebecca with all my heart, and would not want to see her tied into a bitter, loveless marriage, which is no doubt what it would become. I beg you, Charles, release her from the engagement. Act now to avoid making a terrible, tragic mistake, which would ruin both of your lives
.

I remain
,

Your true and loving friend
,

Sarah

‘Wow!’ Ben said. ‘We’ve come across juicy gossip in the very first letter.’ He took it from Gemma, read it again and frowned. ‘It’s kind of weird. This Sarah sounds just like Nat – she said pretty much the same thing to me when she persuaded me to break off our engagement.’

Gemma nodded. ‘Hmm. I wonder if it was true or not – whether Rebecca really did like Charles or whether Sarah was just manipulating him. As Nat manipulated you.’

‘To my eternal shame and regret.’ He made his puppy-dog eyes at Gemma.

She gave his arm a squeeze and kissed him. She was trembling with excitement. Rebecca, Sarah, Charles – these were all the people involved in the accidents and events at Red Hill Hall in 1838. There was no date on the letter, and there were several crossings out and blots, as though perhaps it was a rough draft to be copied out later. ‘I don’t know. Charles died in 1838 – drowned in the well – if it is indeed the same Charles but I am guessing it is. And the names of the women involved in the shooting were Rebecca Winton and Sarah Cooper.’

‘Did they both die? You were unsure last time we spoke about this.’

‘I’m still unsure. The newspaper articles were contradictory. I was hoping to find evidence in amongst this lot that would confirm who died and who lived. And also confirm their relationship – they have different surnames but are described as sisters in some reports.

‘Was one married?’

‘No, they were both referred to as Miss.’

‘Hey, lovebirds, how’s it going?’ The door opened and Don entered, clutching a cup of coffee.

On impulse Gemma crossed the room to him and gave him a hug. ‘It’s going tremendously well. Both the research and the relationship. I can’t thank you enough for facilitating both of them.’

‘You are most welcome. Glad to have been able to help.’ Don grinned, clearly delighted with his role in their reconciliation. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Shout if you need anything.’

They spent the next couple of hours going through the documents and by the end had everything sorted and numbered, and had begun reading through them. Gemma had discovered that only Sarah had died in the shooting. Rebecca had survived, and had paid a hefty doctor’s bill for her treatment several months after the shooting.

‘This is intriguing,’ Ben said, waving another letter at Gemma. ‘Listen.’ He read it out.

Dear Miss Winton

Thank you for your letter of 14th inst, and the details you gave of Miss Cooper’s possible parentage, which made for very interesting reading. I must admit I was most surprised to learn that Mr Winton may have been Miss Cooper’s father as I had suspected someone else was, but it certainly explains why he changed his will in such a dramatic way. If your suspicions are correct then it means that, as her half-sister, you are most certainly Miss Cooper’s next of kin, and therefore in the event that no will for Miss Cooper can be found and she is declared intestate, then you stand to inherit the estate. As, in my humble opinion, and if I may be so bold as to say, should have happened when your father passed away
.

It remains therefore for you to continue searching Miss Cooper’s and your father’s papers and put to one side anything that confirms their relationship. I will inspect all such papers when I return to Dorset in a fortnight’s time
.

Until then, I remain
,

Your obedient servant
,

Nathaniel Neville (Solicitor)

Ben finished reading and Gemma stared at him. ‘So if I understand this correctly, it sounds as though Rebecca and Sarah may have been half-sisters. Interesting.’

Ben was frowning. ‘What’s all that about the father’s will being changed dramatically?’

‘I don’t know. But I do know that the National Archive keeps copies of wills, and you can download them for a fee from their website. And I will do exactly that as soon as I am back home with my laptop. Or at the museum.’ She picked up her notebook and wrote herself a note to search for Henry Winton’s will.

‘I can see why you’re so hooked on all this,’ Ben said. ‘I can feel myself getting sucked in as well. But it’s probably lunchtime. Here, or somewhere else? My treat.’

She shook her head. ‘Thanks, love, but I’ll just grab a sandwich. I’m then going in search of Nat this afternoon. How about we get together this evening? Come round to my flat and I’ll cook you a dinner?’ With a pang she remembered the last dinner she’d cooked for Ben, the one they’d never eaten, as he’d come round to break off their engagement. Nat’s doing. She had to find her and ask her
why
.

Gemma spent the afternoon searching for Nat. She was not at her flat. She did not want to ring or text her – Gemma’s idea was to surprise her face to face. She wanted to see Nat’s immediate reaction and not give her any time to prepare herself for a meeting.

As a last resort, she decided to drive to Nat’s mother’s flat, on the edge of town. She knew Nat rarely saw her mother – an alcoholic who’d thrown her daughter out when Nat was just sixteen. But perhaps she would know where Nat was. Gemma didn’t believe she was really in Tenerife. Not if she’d lost her job and was so short of money that she was trying to extort some out of Gemma’s parents.

Nat’s mother’s flat was in a dingy sixties block. The lift wasn’t working so Gemma climbed the three flights of stairs. Mrs Heller’s glass front door was boarded up, and several bin bags were stacked under her kitchen window. Gemma took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. She hadn’t seen Nat’s mother for several years. When Nat was growing up they’d lived in a terraced house near the centre of town. It had been small but much nicer than this place, which was clearly suffering from years of neglect.

Gemma barely recognised Nat’s mother when she opened the door. Her hair was stringy and unwashed, her face gaunt and lined.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, her voice rough from years of smoking.

‘Hello, Mrs Heller. Do you remember me? I’m Gemma Rowling, a, erm, friend of Natalie’s.’ It hurt to say the word ‘friend’.

‘I remember you. The posh kid. What have you come here for?’

‘I’m looking for Nat. I really need to talk to her about something.’