The Daughters Of Red Hill Hall (16 page)

‘Well, the card has been stopped, and I won’t have to pay. I feel a little sick about this.’

Roger put his hand on her arm. ‘It’ll be all right. Don’t worry. They won’t make you pay for the transactions that weren’t yours. The one in that shop is odd, though, as it’s so local. That kind of points to someone from this town having got hold of your card details. How on earth could that have happened?’

Gemma shrugged but said nothing. It would have been easy for Nat to get her card details. How many times had Nat kept an eye on Gemma’s handbag while she went to the loo in a pub, for example? It would have been very easy to take her card out, copy the card number, expiry date and security code down. If a purchase was made over the phone that’s all they asked for, no need for a signature. Had Nat copied her details then phoned the shop to buy the peacock dress? And made a couple of online purchases while she was at it?

‘Listen, Gemma, if they do hold you responsible for those transactions and you’re short of money, then, ahem, don’t hesitate to ask me for help. I could, erm, loan you some money if you need it. To pay that bill, I mean. If there’s any way I can help you, I will.’

‘Oh, Roger, that’s so kind of you but I don’t think I could borrow money from you. It wouldn’t seem right.’ How lovely was her boss? Not for the first time Gemma felt a wave of warm feeling wash over her at Roger’s kindness.

‘Well, from the museum then. Against your next couple of months’ salary, if that would make you feel better about it. Just don’t leave yourself short. What an awful thing to happen to you.’

‘Thank you. I’ll bear it in mind. But hopefully I won’t have to pay the whole bill.’ Gemma smiled weakly at Roger. His face lit up, as it so often did if she smiled at him. He was so sweet.

‘Well. I should get my lunch now. You’ll be all right here for a bit?’

‘Yes. I’ll cope with the rush.’ She rolled her eyes and he laughed.

‘You’re right, we’re not that busy are we?’ There was a total of about half a dozen people in the museum. It was a shame Christine was off, otherwise she could have got on with the Red Hill Hall research. That would have helped take her mind off things again, as it had after Ben had split up with her. Who were Rebecca and Sarah, and how had that man Charles de Witt ended up drowned in a well on the estate?

When he’d left, Gemma set to work tidying the display of postcards. As she worked she thought about the peacock dress. The
La Belle Femme
transaction on her bill was for £350. Was that how much the dress had been when Nat had tried it on? She couldn’t remember. Perhaps if she went to the shop and asked the snooty sales assistant – she might remember whether it had been reduced, or whether it had been a purchase over the telephone. It was a horrible thought – to be sneaking around checking up on whether your best friend had done the dirty on you – but Gemma needed to know. The credit card company would probably be asking the same questions anyway. She wondered if Roger would give her an hour off this afternoon to go and investigate. Dare she ask him?

As the afternoon wore on the question tumbled around and around in her head. By mid-afternoon she had convinced herself that there was no way Nat would do such a thing. She was her best friend, her rock. Nat had stood by her through thick and thin. She remembered the time when she’d tried to take a day off work, from a previous job as a waitress, so she could visit her sick grandmother. The café manager had said no, they were too short-staffed. But Nat had walked in, taking a sickie from her own job, saying she could cover the shift, leaving the manager no option but to acquiesce. Nat was like that. Always ready with a practical solution, willing to put herself out for her friend. She wouldn’t, couldn’t have stolen from Gemma.

Nat must have bought the dress in the sale, as she’d said. It was sheer coincidence that whoever had got hold of Gemma’s credit card details had used them to make a purchase at
La Belle Femme
. Coincidence, that was all. When all this had blown over she and Nat would be able to have a laugh about it together. Imagine, I thought you might have charged your dress to my account! she would say to Nat. That’s a good idea – why didn’t I think of it? Nat would reply, and the two of them would roll around laughing.

The more she thought about it the more she realised she’d been stupid to think for a moment that Nat had used her credit card. What a ridiculous notion that was.

Chapter 14

August 1838

It was two months since Papa had died, and Rebecca was still not used to the new order of things at Red Hill Hall. She had reluctantly given up her bedroom to Sarah, realising she had no choice. The servants deferred to Sarah always, and would only do what Rebecca asked after checking with Sarah first. Even Spencer, although in his eyes she could see him wrestle with the conflicting loyalties. Only Tilly remained completely loyal to Rebecca, despite being now officially Sarah’s maid.

Sarah had made further changes to the way the household was run. There were new horses in the stables, and extra staff. The sitting room was being redecorated. The dinner hour was now later, to give Sarah more time to ride and then change for dinner afterwards. At least once a week she threw a dinner party for local gentry, but Rebecca had noticed there were no invitations in return, and their guests looked upon her, still wearing black in mourning for her father, with pity. She was sure they whispered, behind their hands, about how it was too soon after Mr Winton’s death to be socialising, and wasn’t it awful that Miss Cooper was now the mistress of Red Hill Hall, and wasn’t she only the housekeeper’s daughter after all, and who had her father been in any case? There were rumours, they whispered to each other, that it was the butler, Spencer; no one had ever confirmed this, but why else would old man Winton have kept the girl on after her mother died? Rebecca could see that Sarah would never become fully established as one of the gentry. Perhaps if she married well they would accept her, but people would always remember where she came from and how she had inherited the estate.

One or two of the older women looked sympathetically on Rebecca, and would ask her what she was going to do. How would she find herself a husband with no dowry and no fortune? They supposed she would stay with Miss Cooper as her companion, and wasn’t that lovely, as the girls had always been such close friends as they grew up? But what a shame her engagement to Charles de Witt had ended. What a terrible thing for that man to do. And what had become of him in any case, for no one had seen him in the area for some weeks. He had apparently left the area although he hadn’t given up his lodgings in Bridhampton – it was believed he had paid his rent up till the end of the summer at least.

Rebecca wondered about this. Where had Charles gone? Despite their break-up, she would have thought he’d have let her and Sarah know if he was returning to Carlstone Hall out of politeness if nothing else. She realised she had not seen him since Papa’s funeral. She did not know if he had heard about her change in circumstances, but she assumed he had heard the gossip at least. Maybe he was staying away
because
of her changed situation. Well, he meant nothing to her now. Nothing.

It was around lunchtime that the news that would change everything arrived. It was Tilly who first alerted her. She came rushing into the library where Rebecca had been quietly reading, without knocking.

‘Miss, oh miss, there you are. Come quickly, ’tis terrible!’ She was white, her hand held over her mouth.

‘What’s terrible, Tilly? Please, calm down and tell me what has happened.’ Rebecca was seized with dread. Tilly wasn’t a girl normally given to hysterics.

‘Oh, miss, a body has been found. The water had gone bad and they sent someone down to look and it was a body. A man.’ Tilly was shaking.

‘A body? Found where?’

‘In the well, miss. The old one up near the empty farmhouse. ’Tis rarely used nowadays since the pump was put in at the village. But one or two people still fetch water there to fill troughs for their livestock sometimes.’

‘Who is it?’

‘They – they don’t rightly know. They are not sure.’ Tilly looked away when she said this. Rebecca felt that sense of dread again. Tilly knew more than she was letting on.

‘Where is the body? Who is investigating?’ She may no longer be mistress of Red Hill Hall but Rebecca felt she should take control here.

‘He – it – is in the stables block. They brought it here by cart. Doctor Millbank is there, and Constable Barnsworth. He is looking at the body to try to – erm – identify it.’

Rebecca began to cross the room. ‘I must go and see if I can help in any way.’

‘Oh, no, miss. Please. Stay away.’ Tilly caught hold of her arm and tried to pull her back to the sofa.

‘But I must. I am, well, I
was
, mistress here. It is my duty. Has Miss Cooper been informed?’

‘She is out riding. One of the grooms has taken a horse and gone to search for her. Please, miss, don’t go to see the body. It is truly terrible. I believe it has been in the water a long time and – is hardly human any more.’

‘If Miss Cooper is not available then I must definitely go. The body has been brought to my, I mean Miss Cooper’s, house, so it is most certainly my business.’ Rebecca pushed past Tilly and left the room.

She went out to the stables via the servants’ corridor. There were a group of men huddled around a rough cart, which contained what looked like a pile of blankets. As she approached, one of the men spotted her and nudged another – Doctor Millbank. He quickly crossed the yard to her.

‘Miss Winton, please, do not come any closer. It is not a sight for young ladies. The body has been in the well for some weeks and I’m afraid is somewhat decomposed.’

Rebecca realised she could smell it – a foul, rotting stench that filled her mouth and nose. She put the back of her hand to her mouth. Her intention had been to view the body no matter what was said, but the smell was forcing her back. ‘Do you know who it is?’ she asked.

‘We are not sure, due to the state of the body, but…’ The doctor’s voice tailed off as he looked back at the cart.

‘You have an idea who it is?’

‘The grooms here recognise the jacket. It is a fine quality, dark green riding jacket. Quite distinctive. Miss Winton, you will have to hear it sooner or later, and perhaps it is best coming from me. I am so sorry, Miss Winton. We believe the body to be that of Mr Charles de Witt.’

Rebecca felt the words hit her like a punch to the stomach. She gasped and doubled over. Charles had broken off the engagement but she had still loved him. How could it be him in the well, dead and decomposed? Charles, gone for ever, with no hope of ever seeing him again. The pain was unbearable. Please let it be someone else, anyone else, not him!

‘Miss Winton, I am so sorry to have had to break such awful news to you. Come inside. I shall call for Spencer to fetch something to revive you. A brandy would do the trick. Come, lean on me.’ The doctor took her arm and led her gently back to the house. Spencer was summoned, told the news, and he quickly arranged for her to be put into the drawing room, laid on a chaise with a rug tucked around her.

Rebecca let herself be fussed over. She found she could barely breathe, let alone speak, and the only thought that was running round her head was that Charles was dead. Dead, gone for ever. If only she’d had the chance to see him again. Perhaps persuade him to change his mind. Might he have done so, if he’d known what was in Papa’s will? Her head said no – that would have turned him even more against her and perhaps towards Sarah. Her heart said yes – he would have taken pity on her and married her after all, as Papa had wished and expected. And if they had been together, might she have saved him from the well? How had he come to be in it, in any case? Now there was a question that needed answering.

She pushed herself up onto her elbow. Tilly was in the room, attending to her. ‘Tilly?’

‘Yes, miss?’

‘Please, go and ask the doctor or the constable if they know how Mr de Witt came to be in the well. Did he fall in, or was he, perhaps p-pushed?’ She stumbled over the last word. The thought of someone wanting to kill Charles was yet more unbearable. But he was unlikely to have fallen in by accident. The third option was that he jumped in himself, but that possibility was even harder to contemplate, for that would imply he was unhappy, miserable enough to want to end it all.

Tilly nodded and left the room. A few minutes later Rebecca heard screaming and sobbing in the hallway. She threw off the rug, heaved herself off the chaise and went to see what was happening. It was Sarah. She was hysterical – though Rebecca had calmed down now she could see that Sarah was in a worse state than she herself had been. Sarah was being restrained by Spencer and the doctor, but was thrashing around and screaming, her face red, her eyes streaming.

‘No, no, no! Charles, dead! No!’ Sarah wrenched herself free of the men and flung herself to the ground, battering the floor with her fists.

Despite their recent differences Rebecca’s heart went out to Sarah. She was taking this even worse than Rebecca had herself. She ran to her one-time friend and knelt beside her, putting a comforting arm around her.

‘There now, Sarah. Calm yourself. It’s a tragic thing, but we can do nothing about it, and wailing and thrashing won’t help at all. Remember your position now, as head of this household.’

‘Get off me!’ Sarah screamed, pushing Rebecca away. ‘It’s all your fault! He has thrown himself in the well because of you!’

‘Me? No, Sarah, you are mistaken. It is not because of me; it cannot be…’ Despite her words, Rebecca had a moment of doubt. Had Charles still cared for her in some way? Could he have killed himself because they had split up, regretting the end of their engagement? No, surely not. He would have come back to her, tried to rekindle their romance, and of course she would have taken him back immediately. No, that was not the reason. If Charles had thrown himself in, it must be for some other reason. Perhaps he had preferred Sarah, as she’d always suspected, and Sarah had spurned him? Which would make it Sarah’s fault. She stopped herself blurting this out. She would not throw that kind of accusation around, even if Sarah did.