The Droitwich Deceivers (4 page)

‘Excellent, my dear lady,’ added Ravenscroft after
swallowing
another mouthful.

‘The recipe was handed down to me by my late
grandmother
, and she always claimed that it had been given to her by her grandmother, who said it had been given to her by a cook who worked for good Queen Anne!’ proclaimed the cook.

‘Well, what is good for Queen Anne is certainly more than welcome to me. You must let my wife have the recipe. I suppose you must have worked for Sir Charles and Lady Chilton for a number of years?’ inquired Ravenscroft.

‘For the past fifteen years sir.’

‘And you, Mister Jukes?’ continued Ravenscroft.

‘About ten years, but you were here before Sir Charles, were you not, Mrs Greenway?’

‘Yes. I was here when Master Peter was here – and before him when Master Christopher was the owner,’ replied the cook replenishing Ravenscroft’s cup.

‘Forgive me, but what relation were these gentlemen to Sir Charles?’ asked Ravenscroft interested in gaining all he could from the lady.

‘Sir Christopher were the father of Sir Charles and Master Peter. He was a real gentleman. Always asking after the servants’ welfare. Nothing was too much trouble. Looked
after us all proper he did. There was always a generous present at Christmas there was. Master Peter was his eldest son, and he was a lovely man, but then he had been such a good child, so kind and gentle, a really loving child if you get my meaning,’ said the cook warming to her subject.

‘And what happened to Sir Christopher and Master Peter?’

‘Died sir. About ten years ago it was. Master Peter died suddenly. He went away one day on business to London and caught a fever there by all accounts. His death broke his father’s heart. He never go over it. Died himself a few months afterwards. They’re both buried in the churchyard yonder.’

‘How very sad,’ sympathized Ravenscroft. ‘So Sir Charles took over the business then?’

‘He did indeed,’ said Jukes leaning back in his chair.

‘And how do you find Sir Charles?’

‘“Find” sir?’ asked Jukes.

‘Yes, how do you find Sir Charles – is he an easy master to work for?’

‘Not for us to say, sir,’ said the servant defensively.

‘I quite understand your reluctance to talk about your master. I appreciate that. Loyalty is to be commended in a servant these days.’

‘Master can be a bit hard at times,’ said the cook. ‘He likes to run a tight ship, if you get my drift.’

‘I am sure he does. And Lady Chilton?’

‘Ah, now she is totally different. I’ve never met a kinder woman, the poor soul,’ nodded the cook.

‘Oh, why do you say that?’ asked Ravenscroft thankful that his easy line of questioning was at last beginning to bring forth encouraging results.

‘Not well. Stays in her room all day now. She sees no one except for the family and Doctor Staple. No one can find what’s wrong with her,’ continued Mrs Greenway.

‘I am sorry to hear that. Has Lady Chilton been ill for long?’

‘For past year I’d say, wouldn’t you say so, Mrs Greenway,’ said Jukes.

‘As long as that, Mr Jukes? Well yes, I suppose it must be.’

‘How long have Sir Charles and Lady Chilton been married?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘For nearly nine years I’d say. Of course she was betrothed to Master Peter first. They made a lovely couple. So much in love. But then, as we said, he died so unexpected. A great tragedy it was sir.’

‘A bit like Catherine of Aragon,’ suggested Ravenscroft.

‘Catherine of Aragon?’, asked Jukes.

‘Yes, you know, Jukes, she married Henry VIII, after first being betrothed to his elder brother,’ offered Mrs Greenway.’

‘Is Miss Mildred their only child?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Yes sir.’

‘Would you say that she is a happy child? Is she well cared for by her parents?’ asked Ravenscroft becoming more intrigued.

‘Why yes sir. Her mother adores her. Cannot do enough for her. I sometimes think that she only lives for her daughter. She is very distraught by all this, sir. I fears for her sanity I does. She is so fragile. It is all so very sad. Would you like some more cake, Mister Ravenscroft?’ said the cook.

‘I would indeed, but I fear I must not give in to temptation, good as it is,’ laughed Ravenscroft. ‘What do you make of Miss Petterson, the governess?’

‘Bit stuck up, if you ask me. She don’t like socializing with us servants. She thinks we be all daddaky to her,’ said Mrs Greenway rubbing the side of her nose with her finger.

‘Daddaky?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Daddaky. Thinks we are all completely inferior to her, being staff,’ explained the cook.

‘And how does Miss Petterson get on with her charge?’

‘Well enough I suppose.’

‘There have been no arguments, or fallings out between them?’

‘None as I know of.’

‘Have either of you seen any suspicious strangers in the neighbourhood recently?’

‘None that I can think of,’ replied the cook.

‘No, none,’ added Jukes.

‘Well, thank you Mrs Greenway, and you too Mr Jukes,’ said Ravenscroft standing up from the table. ‘You have both been very helpful. The cake and tea were most welcome.’

‘I’ll let you have that recipe, Inspector,’ said the cook.

‘Thank you Mrs Greenway, I look forward to that. In the meantime I wish you both good day.’

Ravenscroft retraced his steps through the dining-room and hall, pausing to look at the family portraits on the walls, before deciding to make his way slowly up the imposing curved marble staircase. Finding himself on the upper landing he looked through a large window at the stable buildings and fields which stretched out below him, before turning to admire the large number of books inside a glass-fronted bookcase.

A faint sobbing sound somewhere in the distance made him look up quickly from the book he had taken down from one of the shelves. He stood still listening to the plaintive cries for some moments, until they ceased as suddenly as they had begun. Ravenscroft wondered who had made the mournful sound – could they have been uttered by the missing girl? And if so, would he find her locked in one of rooms that lead off the landing?

Replacing the volume, he made his way over to one of the doors, and gently tapped on the woodwork. Receiving no reply, he cautiously opened the door a few inches, and stepped gingerly into the room.

‘Forgive me. I heard crying,’ said Ravenscroft, addressing the figure who stood before the window in the semi-darkened interior.

‘Who … who are you?’ said the woman turning round to face him.

‘Inspector Ravenscroft, Lady Chilton. We spoke last night when I arrived,’ said Ravenscroft standing by the door and feeling somewhat reticent to proceed further.

‘Ravenscroft?’

‘Yes, I came about your daughter.’

‘My daughter? Mildred. Have you found her? Please say you have found her, and that all is well?’ said the distraught woman coming forward to meet him and clasping his hands tightly in hers.

‘No, we have not found your daughter yet, Lady Chilton, but we are trying everything we can. I am sure it will not be long before you are reunited,’ said Ravenscroft trying to sound as reassuring as he could.

‘My daughter! My poor daughter!’ cried the woman, her sad eyes filling once more with tears.

‘Please do not distress yourself, Lady Chilton. May I help you to a seat? A glass of water perhaps?’

‘Ravenscroft you say. Yes, of course, Ravenscroft. The man who has come to find my daughter. You must forgive me. Please do take a seat,’ said Lady Chilton attempting to regain her composure, whilst leading the detective over to a small sofa.

‘Thank you,’ replied Ravenscroft accepting the seat, and observing that his hostess seemed reluctant to relinquish her tight grip on his right hand, as she sat down beside him.

‘Will you ever find her, my poor daughter?’she said looking into his eyes.

‘Of course, of that I am sure.’

‘But how can you be so certain?’ asked Lady Chilton anxiously.

‘In my experience missing children are usually found alive and well after a day or two,’ replied Ravenscroft knowing that he was lying, as he looked into the worn face full of tears and sorrows.

‘She is all I have in this world you know. There is no one else now. For such a long time there has been no one. I could not live without her – quite alone.’

‘You have your husband. He must be a great comfort to you?’

‘My husband?’

‘Yes, Sir Charles.’

‘My husband has little time for me. He is always busy with his work.’

‘I see.’

‘I am quite alone … quite alone … there is no one to help me …’ continued the woman, her voice trailing away as she looked vacantly past Ravenscroft.

‘Can you think of anyone who could have taken your daughter?’

‘Taken? But surely she is lost, not taken?’

‘Mr Russell?’ suggested Ravenscroft.

‘Mr Russell? I do not understand. She is lost, poor Mildred is lost. My poor daughter is out there somewhere. I must go to her, she may be sick, she may be injured, she may have need of me. Yes I must go to her,’ said Lady Chilton relinquishing Ravenscroft’s hand as she rose quickly from the sofa.

‘I don’t think that would be wise—’ interjected Ravenscroft.

‘But she is out there, all alone … she is looking for me …
all alone’. Again the voice trailed off to an almost inaudible whisper, as the speaker sank down despondently onto a nearby chair and covered her face with her hands.

Ravenscroft sat silently, sharing the mother’s distress, wanting to utter words that would bring comfort, but knowing that anything he would say could be of little use. Instead he distracted himself by looking around the small drawing-room, with its simple furniture, half-drawn curtains and writing table. An open book, a glass of water and a pair of spectacles lay on the side-table near the sofa. To Ravenscroft it seemed the kind of room that a lady would seek to avoid as much as possible, rather than a room where one would wish to spend one’s daylight hours.

Then he observed the photograph of a young girl, mounted within a silver frame, that was placed on a small table at the opposite end of the sofa. Ravenscroft recalled that the smiling portrait of the girl with the ringlets was a copy of the the same picture, which had been given to him by the governess the previous evening, and wondered what dangers she might now be facing.

‘Mildred,’ whispered Lady Chilton. ‘Such a beautiful girl.’

‘She is a credit to you, ma’am.’

‘Such a comfort to me. A memory of the past. We must cling to the past.’

‘I am sure we will be able to find her.’

‘You have children, Mr Ravenscroft?’ asked Lady Chilton, after some moments had elapsed.

‘I have two. Both boys. My wife and I have been most
fortunate
,’ replied Ravenscroft, grateful that the quietness of the room had been broken.

‘Two boys … I should have liked a boy … Mildred is my daughter.’ Again the sorrowful voice trailed away to nothing, as its owner’s eyes stared vacantly down at the carpet.

‘Lady Chilton, I must take my leave of you now. Rest assured that I will find your daughter. I give you that promise. As soon as I have some news I will let you know,’ said Ravenscroft, realizing that he could do no more, and rose quickly to his feet.

‘All alone … she is all alone you know … all alone….’

‘I will return, Lady Chilton. I wish you good day.’

‘Yes … return.’

As Ravenscroft let himself quietly out of the room, he gave a backward glance at the forlorn figure, and felt sickening anxiety within him.

‘Well Tom, how was your morning?’ asked Ravenscroft as the two men walked away from Hill Court.

‘I sent the telegram addressed to Lord and Lady Roberts of Warminster enquiring about the governess,’ replied Crabb.

‘Good. I think we need to know a lot more about our Miss Petterson.’

‘Then I made a few discreet enquiries regarding Sir Charles in the shops and inns in the town. It seems he is not particularly liked in the area. Bit of a hard taskmaster by all accounts, used to getting his own way.’

‘That is what we surmized.’

‘He also has quite a reputation for meanness.’

‘That is the impression I gained from talking to the servants. Apparantly he inherited the family business from his father about ten years ago. There was an elder brother, but he died before the father.’

‘People speak well of his wife, although she has not been seen in the town for nearly a year now. There are all sorts of rumours flying around about her. Her memory has broken down, some say; bedridden after an accident, others claim. But I expect it is all idle gossip,’ continued Crabb.

‘Well I have managed to speak with Lady Chilton, and she is indeed a sorrowful figure, but how much her present state of mind is due to the sudden loss of her daughter, or to a more deep seated ailment, I can’t judge, but I tell you one thing Crabb, my heart went out to the poor woman. We must do all we can to find her daughter,’ said Ravenscroft with
determination
.

‘I also made enquiries at the Gardeners Arms, but they saw nothing yesterday.’

‘Thank you Tom.’

‘What else did you learn, sir?’

‘I spoke with that Brockway fellow. Can’t say I like the man. He was not very forthcoming and certainly did not want me to see Lady Chilton. He gave me this long list of people who have had dealings with Sir Charles. When I pressed him for anyone in particular who might bare a grudge against Chilton, he reluctantly came up with a James Russell.’

‘Who is he, sir?’ asked Crabb.

‘A local farmer. Apparantly Sir Charles wanted to buy some land from him, but Mr Russell declined the offer, and there were sharp words between the two. Russell has salt deposits on his land; that was why Chilton wanted it. So we shall make our way there now and see what this Mr Russell has to say about the matter,’ replied Ravenscroft frowning and rubbing his chest.

‘Oh one more thing sir. As I was returning to the house, I observed that the church was open, so I went inside and found the vicar there. He told me that when he has chosen the hymns for the following Sunday, he usually puts the numbers of the hymns on the marker boards.’