The Daughters Of Red Hill Hall (28 page)

She sat motionless for perhaps half an hour, contemplating what she had read. It was enough for now. She had seen that Sarah had turned against her, manipulated Charles into breaking off the engagement and her father into changing his will. Sarah had clearly wanted to destroy her. Rebecca straightened her spine. Sarah had not succeeded. When the critical moment came, it was Rebecca’s shot that was true.

The following day dawned bright and clear, and she woke feeling energetic and determined to resolve some of the mysteries. Her shoulder felt better, so after breakfast she put on her cape and informed Spencer that she was going out for a walk in the estate.

‘Should you, Miss Winton? Are you well enough?’ he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

‘I am perfectly well, thank you, and I think it will do me good. I have not left the house since before the, erm, accident.’

‘Would you like someone with you? A groom, or Tilly perhaps, just in case you need help?’

She considered, but declined. She had resolved to visit Jed Arthur’s sister, and try to find out more about his disappearance. It would not do for Tilly or another servant to hear anything Dorothy Arthur had to say. ‘I shall go alone, Spencer. Thank you for your concern. I shall be back in time for luncheon.’

He nodded, and held open the grand front door for her. She left the house and began walking up the long driveway. The Arthurs’ cottage was, she knew, somewhere over to the east of the estate, beyond the copse. It was a warm day and she soon began to regret wearing the cloak. She pulled it off and draped it over her good arm.

The walk was further than she’d thought, and by the time she reached the little row of farm workers’ cottages she was exhausted and her shoulder was aching once more. Still, she’d be able to sit down in Dorothy’s cottage and hopefully that would revive her enough for the walk back. She tapped on the door of the end cottage.

The woman who answered was tall and thin with a face that should have been pretty but her pinched, tired expression made her look gaunt and older than her years. Rebecca recognised her from church. ‘Dorothy Arthur?’

‘Yes, that’s me. Oh, it’s Miss Winton, ain’t it?’ The woman bobbed an ungainly curtsey. ‘Do you want to come in?’

‘I would like to sit and rest, if you don’t mind.’ Rebecca followed her into a small but clean cottage. The door opened directly into the kitchen, which doubled as a living room. There was one bedroom to the right, and a set of narrow steps led to a loft in which she supposed was another bedroom. Rebecca pulled a bentwood chair out from under a scrubbed pine table and sat down, while Dorothy fussed around putting a kettle on the hearth to make tea.

‘I hope you don’t mind me calling on you like this,’ Rebecca said. Now that she was here she wasn’t sure quite how to begin the conversation. She wished she’d rehearsed it a little in her head beforehand. ‘I heard only yesterday that your brother was missing, and I wanted to check you were all right, and whether there was anything I could do for you.’

Dorothy forced a smile. ‘You’re very kind, miss. It is hard without him. I fear for what has happened to him. It is not like him to go away like this.’

‘No, I imagine not,’ Rebecca said.

‘I heard tell the constable thinks he might have…could have been the one who…’ Dorothy put her hand over her mouth and shook her head.

‘Been the one who shot Miss Cooper and me?’ Rebecca asked, gently.

Dorothy simply nodded, and sat down quickly on the chair opposite Rebecca’s, her hand still over her mouth.

‘And you don’t think he did?’

‘No! No, miss. He never did it. I know it. He never would hurt anyone, let alone Miss Cooper. He loved her, oh!’ Again she clamped her hand across her mouth as though to stuff the words back inside.

‘Loved her?’

‘I shouldn’t have said it. But he did! He worshipped her. She came here often on her horse or walking, and he’d go out and meet her and they’d go off together for hours. I thought it strange, her being a lady up at the big house and him being but a labourer, but he told me love knew no barriers – that’s what he said to me, love knows no barriers. I saved that in my head. Beautiful words.’

‘They are beautiful words, it’s true.’ Rebecca pondered. Jed had clearly been struck with Sarah, but had his feelings been returned? And where was he now? ‘Dorothy, I believe you are right – Jed would not have harmed Miss Cooper if he cared for her so much. But where is he? It is so strange that he should disappear immediately after the shooting.’

‘He didn’t disappear after it. He disappeared before. I had not seen him for some weeks before.’

‘Oh, I misunderstood. The constable implied he had gone missing just after the shooting. I thought if he cared for Miss Cooper as you say he did, perhaps he went away in grief. Are you quite sure about this?’

Dorothy nodded emphatically. ‘He was here on my birthday. And the day after that he went out to meet Miss Cooper and never came back. I looked everywhere – called at every cottage on the estate and in the village, came up to the hall to ask the grooms, asked the landlord at the inn to keep an eye out and let me know if Jed went there at all. But no one saw him that week, nor the next, nor any day since. He’s been spirited away. I was trying to pluck up the courage to come to the hall and ask Miss Cooper if she knew anything, but then the shooting happened.’

‘Goodness. Well, that rather changes things. But Dorothy, do you really have no idea where he might be? It’s surely not in his character to just go away without telling you?’

‘He’s never done it before. I’m running out of money, too. Without his wages coming in I don’t know how I’m going to cope. Rent’s due, as well.’ Dorothy looked down at her hands as she said this, as though she was embarrassed to be caught asking for charity.

‘I shall speak to the estate manager. You will not have to pay rent until Jed returns. And, here, take this.’ Rebecca fumbled in her skirt pockets and pulled out a purse. She tipped the contents onto the table and pushed the coins over to Dorothy.

‘Oh, miss, no, I didn’t mean…’

‘Yes you did, and don’t worry, I am happy to help. I only wish your brother could be found safe and well.’ Although, Rebecca couldn’t help but think, if he stayed away it would help keep suspicion diverted away from herself. As long as the constable didn’t hear that Jed had gone missing long
before
the shooting.

‘Thank you, miss. You are very kind.’ Dorothy picked up the coins and dropped them into a small pot that stood on the mantelpiece.

Rebecca stood to leave. ‘I shall send a basket of provisions over to you later. If you have any more thoughts about where Jed might have gone, or if he comes back or contacts you at all, would you please let me know first?’

‘Yes, miss. Of course, miss.’ Dorothy bobbed one of her ungainly curtseys and rushed to open the door to let her out. ‘Thank you for calling, miss. I appreciate your kindnesses. I shouldn’t say it, but you are far nicer than Miss Cooper. She never once said a word to me, in all the times she came by. Oh! I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, should I? My mouth runs away with me at times. Ma always said I didn’t know when to keep quiet.’

Rebecca nodded at her and left the cottage. She needed to mull over what she had heard. And she needed to revisit Sarah’s diaries. She must have written something about Jed in them, if Dorothy was to be believed about how often they’d met up. What had Sarah been up to? And why had Jed so suddenly disappeared? Rather than solve any mysteries, the visit to the cottage had piled more mysteries on top. Rebecca felt as though her head was spinning with the effort of trying to work it all out.

Chapter 25

August 2015

How could her week off be over already? was Gemma’s first thought as she flicked off the alarm on Monday morning. Her second thought was how wonderful it was to wake up with Ben beside her. She smiled, stretched and turned over to cuddle up to him for a few more minutes.

‘Morning, love,’ he said. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Like a log. In fact I wonder how I ever slept when you weren’t here.’

Since the night in Red Hill Hall hotel, they had spent hardly any time apart. Gemma had been revelling in Ben’s company. The research at the hall had been put on hold, with Don’s blessing, while they spent the rest of their week off going for walks and picnics, hiking the undulating cliffs or strolling along the broad beaches of the Jurassic coast. Ben had collected a few small ammonites, which were now adorning her mantelpiece, much to her exasperation. Could she never get away from fossils?

The rest of the week had felt like a honeymoon as they rebuilt their relationship. Even the weather had vastly improved, as if in support of them. Sadly, today they both had to return to work. What a let-down. But what an amazing few days it had been! Before rising she allowed herself a few minutes thinking back over all that had happened. She was certainly in a different, and better place in her life at the end of the week than she had been at the beginning.

Except for the problem with Nat, which still felt unresolved, despite the visit to her mum’s flat a few days before.

The museum looked just the same as it had before her holiday. Gemma found this vaguely surprising. Her life had changed so much in the week that it seemed everything else should have altered as well. But there was Roger in a salmon-pink jumper, and there was Christine manning the entrance desk, and there were the tourists mooching around the displays wearing cheap pac-a-macs and flip-flops. It was a wet day so the museum was likely to be busy.

‘You had the best of the weather last week. The second half of the week, anyway,’ Roger said to her, as she settled down to work. ‘Had a good holiday? I mean, given your circumstances it wouldn’t have been brilliant but I hope it was relaxing at least.’

Gemma grinned at him. ‘It
was
brilliant. I’m back with Ben, and we’re very happy.’

‘Oh! Yes. Erm, that’s good news. Well done. Ahem.’ Roger blushed furiously and left the room.

Gemma smiled to herself. He needed to know she was no longer available and there was no way she could have broken the news gently to him. If she’d been subtle he probably wouldn’t have realised what she was saying. Better this way – be direct and clear. He’d be all right about it by lunchtime. She fired up her laptop. Cataloguing was going to have to wait till this afternoon. She had a long list of things to check up on about Red Hill Hall and its occupants first, using the museum’s subscription to Ancestry and other websites.

She started on the National Archive’s site. After ten minutes searching she found the will of Henry Winton, of Red Hill Hall, who’d died in 1838. Bingo! That letter from the solicitor Nathaniel Neville to Rebecca Winton, which mentioned a sudden change in Rebecca’s father’s will, had intrigued her. Now at last she could find out more about it. She paid the download fee using her own debit card, and printed the will.

At first glance it was unintelligible. As with the letters, it would be a case of getting used to the handwritten, curly script. The will was just three sides of A4 so shouldn’t take too long to transcribe. She’d also found Henry Winton’s death certificate. He’d died of heart failure. Interestingly, the date on his death certificate was less than a fortnight after the date he’d signed his will. She began working on the will immediately, and by lunchtime had copied out the whole thing and made separate notes of the most pertinent points.

She shook her head in astonishment. So Mr Winton had left his entire estate to Sarah Cooper, his illegitimate daughter according to that letter they’d found from the solicitor, and had completely passed over his legitimate daughter Rebecca! How unfair. Perhaps Rebecca had done something unforgiveable to make him disinherit her like this. Even if he’d thought she would be marrying into a larger estate, it was an odd move for the time to name an illegitimate child as his heir. A thought occurred to Gemma. Perhaps Sarah had somehow manipulated him into naming her as his heir? She recalled the letter from Sarah to Charles de Witt, persuading him to break off the engagement. If she’d manipulated him in that way, maybe she’d done the same to Rebecca’s father? Once again, the similarities between Nat and herself, and Sarah and Rebecca struck her. Nat had caused Gemma’s engagement to Ben to end, and had tried to defraud her parents’ out of some money. Sarah had tried to end Rebecca’s engagement to Charles de Witt, and had somehow got herself named in the will, taking Rebecca’s inheritance.

Well, that was one item on her list – Mr Winton’s will. The next item – checking who lived in the hall at the time of the censuses, would have to wait until after lunch. She was due to meet Ben. She picked up her jacket and handbag and closed her laptop lid.

Roger was at the museum entrance. ‘Just off out for lunch,’ she told him.

‘Yes, erm, of course. See you later,’ he said.

He looked distracted and dreamy, and she followed the line of his gaze. There was a red-haired woman on her own, peering intently at a display of medieval weaponry Roger had put together a couple of weeks earlier. She looked to be in her mid thirties and had a studious air about her. As Gemma watched, Roger adjusted his tie and headed over to the woman. He said something to her and she straightened up and smiled warmly at him before answering.

Gemma grinned. Hopefully she had just witnessed the start of a romance. Roger deserved to find someone suited to him. She pushed open the door of the museum and went out into the street. The earlier rain had stopped, and it was a fine day, cool and fresh after the rain. She put on her sunglasses and walked up towards the sports centre to meet Ben.

They had lunch sitting outside a coffee shop halfway between the museum and the sports centre. Gemma told Ben about the will she’d found.

‘Wow! Rebecca must have been devastated. So her engagement was broken off, then her fiancé died and her father died, and then she found herself disinherited in favour of her half-sister? So many blows all at once. Poor girl.’ Ben shook his head, sadly. ‘Wonder what happened to her?’

‘That’s what I’m hoping to find out next,’ Gemma said. ‘I’ll try to trace her in the 1841 census. I don’t know whether she stayed at the hall.’