Authors: Alison Stuart
“We think he did, but you are the first one to say that,” Helen said. “It is generally described as an ‘unfortunate accident’.”
“Oh well, I abhor calling something by another name. I suppose they preferred ‘an accident’ because it meant it wasn’t suicide with all the attendant legal difficulties that presented. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it was suicide. So what do you want to know?”
“We’ve found a diary written by Suzanna.”
“Oh my dear, how exciting.” Philomena clapped her hands.
“And there is no doubt that she had an attachment to another man but she only identifies him as ‘S’,” Helen continued.
Philomena’s eyes glittered. “I’d love to see it, dear. Did you bring it with you?”
“No, I didn’t. Unfortunately she wrote in code. Paul has been working on it but he hasn’t finished the translation yet and he’s been called away so we will have to wait.”
Philomena looked disappointed. “So why do you think I might be able to help?”
“She met ‘S’ at a ball at Wellmore where he is described as being a friend of Adrian Scarvell. She mentions he was naval officer, attached to the Admiralty in London where he worked on ‘matters of great secrecy’.”
“Oh, how very dashing and romantic. And you have no idea who he is?”
Helen shook her head. “We... I...wondered if there were records of the time that may have recorded who stayed at Wellmore?”
Philomena bit her lip. “Of course there are but I don’t have them here. They’re kept in the offices at Wellmore. The staff has always been scrupulous in their record keeping. I tell you what, I could go to the house tomorrow and see what I can find. What date are we talking about?”
“The ball where they met was held on New Year’s Eve 1811. Suzanna absconded in September of 1812. It seems S was a frequent visitor to the house during that period.”
“Oh I do so love a mystery,” Philomena said. “I shall have the greatest pleasure in pursuing this matter for you.” She glanced at Tony. “Unless of course, you would like to take on the task?”
Tony raised his hands. “Not me. Sounds like just the sort of thing you enjoy, Aunt Phil.”
Philomena cuffed his arm, but looked pleased. “It may take a day or so. Is that all right?”
“Paul is away at present so there’s no hurry.” Helen glanced at her watch. “I am afraid we must take our leave, Miss Scarvell.”
Philomena stood up, straightening her crumpled and faded skirts.
“It has been a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Morrow. I shall report in a day or so.”
Tony and Helen rode slowly back to Holdston, dismounting in the front courtyard.
Tony looked up at the old house, bathed golden in the fading autumn sunshine. “You know I’ve always loved Holdston. Wellmore is a house you can admire but you can never love it. Holdston is a–”
“Home?” Helen ventured.
“Perhaps that’s it,” Tony said.
He moved closer to her and Helen felt his arm around her waist drawing her toward him.
“Helen...” he began, but didn’t finish.
She looked up at his face and saw the pain of desire in his eyes as he bent his head to kiss her. His lips found hers in a clumsy kiss.
For a moment, Helen was too startled to react. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away. She took a step backward, staring at him, appalled that he had misinterpreted their relationship.
“I must go,” she mumbled. Turning on her heel, she looped Hector’s reins around her arm and started to walk toward the stable.
“Helen,” Tony put a restraining hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...I shouldn’t...”
Helen recoiled. “No. You shouldn’t have...but it didn’t happen,” she said, conscious that her face burned with embarrassment. “Forget it.”
She reached the stableyard with her heart pounding. Without daring to look back to see if Tony had gone, she left Hector with Sam and ran up the stairs to her bedroom. Still dressed in her riding clothes she flung herself full length on the bed and buried her face in her pillows. As she sobbed into the feathers, she felt the touch of a hand on her shoulder.
Her heart stopped, feeling the cold fingers even through the thickness of her jacket and shirt.
“
The wrong man
,” a woman’s voice whispered in her ear.
Helen gave a yelp, muffled by the pillow and rolled off the bed, looking around the room with wild eyes. She was alone, quite alone.
Chapter 16
On Monday, a letter came from Aunt Philomena. Helen took the papers upstairs to her room to read.
Dear Mrs. Morrow,
Aunt Philomena began.
I had a most enjoyable day delving into the household records of Wellmore. Oh, my dear, the parties! What a wonderful world to have lived in. As I predicted, the household records of the period 1810 - 1815 are quite complete and include the guest registers of the time. A ball was held to celebrate the New Year on Dec 31 1811. Among the guests recorded staying at the house are several Naval officers, including a Captain Stephenson. I feel strongly that Captain Stephenson is your man as his name appears quite frequently in the guest registers over the next few months. The last entry recording his name is September 12. The date tallies with the disappearance of the scandalous Suzanna. My thought was confirmed when I came across a letter to then Viscountess written by Lady Morrow. I enclose a transcript. I do hope that is of some help with your investigations. Hon. Ph. Scar.
Helen turned to the transcript of the letter from Lady Cecilia Morrow.
Holdston September 20, 1812 My dear Lady Hartfield, your letter of 19 inst is to my hand and I thank you for your sympathy in this our darkest hour. Robert has suffered a serious relapse and we fear greatly for his health. The children of course are quite distracted and the baby bawls continually for her mother. However I cannot, in all justice, absolve of you of blame in this matter. If it were not for you, my lamented daughter in law would not have fallen into the company of such a scoundrel as Captain James Stephenson. His reputation is notorious and I am appalled that you have allowed him your hospitality and the freedom to seduce my son’s wife, even as her husband lay close to death. The blackguard, when confronted by my man of business had the audacity to deny any knowledge of Suzanna’s whereabouts. He admits to having indeed plotted with her to abscond from Holdston but denies the plot was ever carried through. He says he waited in the churchyard for three hours but she never came. He has the audacity to claim to be brokenhearted at what he perceives as her desertion and is to quit England for the colony of Port Jackson. England is well rid of him and indeed of her, if she is, as I am certain, with him. I need not tell you how deeply this will affect us and my grandchildren will forever bear the stain of their mother’s disgrace. As far as I am concerned, her name will never be mentioned in our presence again. I remain yrs Cecilia, Lady Morrow.
Helen felt the breath stop in her throat as she read Cecilia’s bitter, angry words. ‘S’ had a name. James Stephenson.
She carefully folded the letters and put them in the folder where she kept the transcripts of the diary that Paul gave her. A knock on her bedroom door made her jump and without bidding, Evelyn Morrow entered the room.
Helen managed a smile. “Good morning. I was just considering a walk.”
The smile on her lips died as she saw the anger in Evelyn’s eyes. “Helen, I must talk to you on a serious matter,” she said.
Helen stared blankly at her mother-in-law.
“I have been wrestling with my conscience for the last two days and I cannot let the matter pass without saying something.”
“What have I done?” Helen asked.
Evelyn’s hands twisted together. “I thought I had myself quite clear on the subject of your unfortunate habit of flirting–”
“What do you mean?”
“I have just returned from taking tea with Lady Hartfield and she is appalled by your behavior. She tells me Tony is quite besotted by you and is talking of asking you to marry him.”
Helen’s mouth fell open. “I assure you, I have not given him any–”
Evelyn’s head came up and she fixed Helen with hard, cold eyes. “I saw you kissing him on Saturday so don’t pretend ignorance of the subject.”
“Kissing him? He kissed me. I assure you, I gave him no encouragement–”
But Evelyn was in full flight now. “I said to Gerald when Charlie married you that you would turn out to be a common little piece, after money and a title. And I was right. Charlie would have made you the wife of a baronet, but you want more. You want to be a Viscountess.”
Helen felt the white heat of anger in her face. “How dare you accuse me of things of which you know nothing! I loved Charlie for who he was, not what he was. I didn’t even know about the baronetcy until our wedding. To me he was plain Charlie Morrow. Unlike you, I do not judge people by how they speak or where they stand in the social order.” She paused, her breath coming in short, tight gasps. “I came to England at your invitation, Lady Morrow, and as I am now unwelcome in this house, Alice and I will be gone in the morning.”
Evelyn stared at her, her jaw set in a rigid line. Even as Helen watched the woman’s mouth began to tremble.
“Helen, I–”
“No, you have said your piece, Lady Morrow. I am an embarrassment to you so I think it is better I leave.”
Evelyn looked away.
“I am deeply hurt that you should think so little of me,” Helen continued. “I can only give you my word that I have done nothing to encourage Tony’s feelings for me. I regard him as a friend, nothing more. Please do me the courtesy of assuring Lady Hartfield of that fact. Now if you’ll excuse me I had better see to my packing.”
Turning on her heel, Evelyn left the room without another word, shutting the door behind her.
Helen sat down on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes against the tears that welled up inside her. The humiliation of being labeled a flirt and a ‘common piece’ mingled with her own conflicted emotions about the men in her life. She did love Tony but not in the way Tony would have liked. He brought light and laughter back into her world but Paul...enigmatic and withdrawn. She had felt a connection to him she had not sensed in a long time. It went deeper than their mutual love of Charlie. She felt safe around him and his absence from the house left her feeling cold and empty.
“I can’t go,” she whispered.
An unearthly moan filled the room. Helen froze, her breath stopping in her throat as the whispering started. Helen put her hands over ears.
“Stop it!” she said to the insubstantial presence. “I know–we were so close. I’m sorry, I’ve failed you.”
The room fell silent. Helen fell back on the bed and stared up at the crooked beams of the ceiling, too shocked to even weep.
* * * *
Dressed in her hat and coat, her suitcase at her feet, Helen sat at the desk in her bedroom and penned a last note to Paul Morrow.
Dear Paul, I regret circumstances have required me to leave Holdston. The enclosed came from Philomena Scarvell this morning. I am now utterly convinced that Suzanna never left Holdston but met with an accident or foul play. That is the mystery she wants answered. I hope you are able to resolve it. There seems little point in my further involvement. Best wishes, Helen.
She bit her lip and reread the stiff, formal little note. There was so much she wanted to say but there seemed little point. Paul had enough information now to solve the mystery, if indeed there was one, on his own. Beyond that, there were not the words to say what was in her heart.
Picking up her suitcase she walked out of the green bedroom for the last time and finding Paul’s door unlocked, slipped inside. She looked around the empty sitting room, missing his presence with a palpable sense of regret.
Leaving the folder with her research on Suzanna under Paul’s copy of the
Iliad
, she stood holding the note in her hand. If she left it in an obvious place, she had no doubt Evelyn could find it and may destroy it as she had destroyed his mother’s letters. In Paul’s bedroom, she slipped the envelope under the pillows of the bed, restoring the covers to pristine order.
There was no sign of Evelyn in the hall but Sarah Pollard stood by the door with a doleful Alice beside her.
“You go and tell Pollard that your ma is ready to go,” Sarah said to Alice. The girl hefted a tragic sigh and obeyed.
“I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry, Helen.” Sarah twisted her handkerchief in her hand.
“Sorry for what?”
Sarah looked around the Great Hall. “She doesn’t understand what’s been happening in this house.”
Helen looked at the woman. “What do you mean, Sarah?”
Sarah nodded. “You and the Major have stirred the spirits. There’s been two I’ve not noticed before.”
Helen forced herself to speak. “Paul and I...we’ve both seen them. We think we know who they are. Suzanna and Robert Morrow.”
Sarah nodded. “Ah, I thought you had seen something when we talked about the Holdston ghosts, but it’s not just them, there’s another one just come lately, like it’s been roused from somewhere bad. There’s evil in the house where there weren’t none before.”