In the Time of the Caveman Page 8

  "Lady Montgomery, forgive this intrusion on your grief and privacy, but I felt that I must come with haste to speak with you.” His tone was apologetic and she bid him sit in one of the high-backed leather chairs that were grouped in front of the fireplace.

  As she joined him to sit, she could feel the burning in her cheeks and hoped that he would not notice the effect that he was having upon her. Her heart fluttered wildly in her breast and she felt almost breathless.

  He began in earnest.

  "After yesterday’s reading of the will I felt that I must speak with you Lady Montgomery. Your late husband’s brother appeared to be rather hostile towards me and I thought it neither the time nor the place to speak. I had no idea that your husband, the late Lord Montgomery, was my father until I received the solicitor’s letter a few days ago. It was hard to believe at first, and as much of a shock to me as it was, I believe, to yourself. But there had always been a mystery surrounding my parents. I was adopted by a young couple out in the country when I was a baby. I believe that my mother was unmarried and in service when I was born and had to give me away to keep her position. I often wondered who had paid for my schooling. It was obviously something that my parents could never afford; they were good, yet simple country folk.”

  Christabel's heart went out to the young man. He spoke with conviction and truth; of that she was certain. He spoke well but as she looked at him she realized that his clothes were quite shabby; the elbows in his jacket were rubbed shiny with wear and she noticed a small tear in his collar. Her heart almost overflowed.

  "I just wanted to tell you that I have no intention of evicting you from this house. As far as I am concerned, this is yours and I intend to ensure that you receive a generous yearly allowance.”

  She could scarcely believe his words and a sudden brightness filled her, clearing away the clouds from her heart. Almost immediately, she felt ashamed for all her ill thoughts and suspicion towards the young man. "I don't quite know what to say Mr. Crawley. Your offer is too generous, but what about Edward, he is sure to contest the will."

  The young man sighed. "I am hoping to speak with Mr. Montgomery, to see if we can come to some mutual arrangement. I am not a greedy man, I have never had wealth and it does not particularly bother me. I am sure there is enough money to keep everyone happy?"

  Christabel sighed sadly, unconvinced. "Well, I wish you luck with that Mr. Crawley.”

  Stephens entered the room with a sharp rap at the door, halting their conversation. "Excuse me madam, but Mr. Williams has called to see you. Shall I show him into the library?"

  Andrew Crawley stood up sharply. "There's no need, sir. I must go at once."

  Christabel’s heart sank at the thought of Englebert Williams. She would rather spend a pleasant morning finding out more about Mr. Crawley. "Please don't go Mr. Crawley. Stephens will tell Mr. Williams I am occupied at the moment and to please call back at a later hour. Whatever he has to tell me, I am sure can wait.”

  The young man looked reluctant to leave but remained standing. “I'm sorry, but I really must go, Lady Montgomery. I have an appointment at ten o’ clock with Mr. Lewis. Perhaps I may call again tomorrow?"

  Smiling she took his proffered hand and although he only brushed it lightly with his lips, the warmth of his body burnt against her skin.

  Taking his leave, he hesitated and turned. "By the way, none of this Mr. Crawley business; please call me Andrew.”

  Before she had time to gather her thoughts, Englebert Williams entered the room and the smile quickly slipped from her lips. The man rushed to sit by her side. "My dear Christabel, I have just passed that odious man Crawley in the hallway. What on earth is he doing here? Not evicting you already is he, the scoundrel? How dare he show his face in this house with Charles barely cold in his grave? Are you alright my dear?"

  I was until you arrived, she thought wistfully. "I'm fine Englebert. I fear we were wrong about Mr. Crawley. He is a genuine man.”

  Englebert Williams laughed pitifully in her face. "So he has charmed you as well, has he my dear? Well, I suppose he is young and pleasing to a young woman’s eye, but can't you see he is just trying to win you round? He knows that Edward will contest the will and wants you on his side."

  As he attempted to put his arm around her she stood quickly to escape his grasp, and walked over to the fireplace. "He says I can remain here, live in this house. He will even give me an annual allowance.”

  Englebert laughed again, the scorn obvious in his voice. "Surely you didn't believe him; this imposter? Why on earth would he give you this house and an allowance?"

  Christabel suddenly felt unsure of herself. "He said it was the least I was entitled to and he wanted to do right by me.”

  "I'm sure he does!" His tone was lewd, suggesting something unpalatable and he followed her to the fireplace and took her by the arm. "You are naive in the ways of men, Christabel. You are young and beautiful, yet you are penniless and are easy prey for such a man. Now let me look after you. You will be safe with me. I can care for you. I looked after you before you were married didn't I, after your father died? Without me where would you have been?"

  Knowing where the conversation was leading, she broke away from his grasp. "You have been very kind to me in the past Englebert. It was good of you to take me under your wing and become my guardian, and for that I am very grateful to you, truly I am.”

  "I could do it again Christabel. It would be just as before.” He had maneuvered her into the corner of the room by a section of old encyclopedia’s bound in red leather, and moved his body up close against hers. His touch repulsed her, yet she froze to the spot, unable to move.

  "But I don't need a guardian anymore Englebert, besides Hannah can take care of me. I'm not a child. I am a grown woman!"

  Grasping one of her hands in his, he slowly let his free hand run the length of her body; from the top of her shoulder to the slim waist and she shivered as his fingers lingered lightly on the soft curves of her breast. "I can see that my dear. And what a beautiful woman you are. I was not thinking of becoming your guardian but your loving husband.”

  Recoiling at the thought she struggled to break free from his grasp but he held her tightly, inflamed by the touch of her body. He wanted more and pressed his face close against hers. "Am I so repulsive to you Christabel? Without me you have no one, no future. I have invested a lot in you, sweet Christabel, and I am looking for a return on my investment. Now how about just one kiss? That can't hurt, can it? You seemed to enjoy it in the carriage ride home yesterday. Surely you are not thinking of that callow youth Mr. Crawley? I’m afraid that imposter will do you no good."

  Pushing her against the wall, his wet and fleshy lips sought hers. She would have screamed, but his tongue was deep inside her mouth and almost choking her as his hand started to pull up at the hem of her dress to reveal her legs, his hand finding its way below the material and up towards her inner thigh.

  He was already adjusting his clothing, freeing his large member from its constraints. Christabel gasped as his erection sprang towards her. Her body cried at finally feeling touch again after Charles had died, but she couldn’t – no wouldn’t – allow this man to do this to her. She was a married woman, no longer needing of his protection and she wouldn’t submit herself to his lecherous touch.

  "Well my dear. I have been thinking of you ever since our carriage ride home. I have been thinking of you all night.” She felt him manuever her towards the couch, intent on pushing her over and taking her from behind, but before he could get a good grasp on her, she kicked him squarely in his large member and fled the library and up to her rooms and the safe embrace of Hannah.

  "What on Earth?" Hannah had returned from her errands and had been looking after her mistress’s clothing.

  Christabel sobbed and poured out her troubles to her dear friend and servant, while Hannah soothed her as only she could. Hannah reminded her of the promise from Mr. Crawley and the possibility of staying
in the house and living comfortably. She wouldn’t be preyed upon if he kept his word.

  Once Christabel’s worries had been soothed she turned to Hannah and said, "Not a word about this; on your life!"

  "Well!" For once Hannah was speechless.

  "What on Earth must you think of now?” The poor young girl blushed to her roots as she regained her clothing and composure. "I don't know what to say. I have no idea why I let Englebert do that to me in the carriage. Part of me was repulsed, but part of me was numb to it all.”

  The maid smiled at her young mistress. "Oh Chrissy, I'm not one to judge. You’re young and have been through a great deal of stress. All I can say is thank God Stephens didn't walk in on you. The poor man would have had a heart attack!"

  The two women laughed out loud and soon Christabel's embarrassment was forgotten as she told her trusted friend about young Mr Crawley and her growing attraction.

  "What should I do Hannah? Mr Williams will return and I have no doubt he will ask for my hand in marriage. Then there is Mr Crawley's proposal; inviting me to stay here with an allowance and he is so young and handsome. What should I do? I don't know what to think Hannah. I really don't know who I can trust; except you of course."

  ***

  For the rest of the day Hannah fretted about her mistress. Christabel’s encounter with Andrew Crawley on the surface seemed a genuine offer, but they knew little of him and it was plain to see what Englebert Williams wanted; and what of Mrs. Hudson and the mysterious 'A'?

  Hannah was determined to find out more and could hardly wait until ten o’clock, the time that the mystery man was destined to call. She had decided to hide in the butler’s pantry after supper. Stephens would be asleep and Mrs. Hudson would retire soon after supper and a good quantity of the late lord’s brandy.

  All she had to do was to wait!

  Chapter Six

  The screams from Daisy awoke the household from their slumber the following morning. Her day started at five with the cleaning of the grates and making up of the fires; including the one in the kitchen to heat the water.

  She had found Hannah lying on the floor in a pool of darkening blood; a gash to the back of her head. Her stiff body and pale complexion told the fact that she had been dead for hours.

  By the time Christabel had woken, Edward had been called and had taken charge of the situation. The police had been summoned and all the necessary activities had taken place well before she had dressed and stepped out of her room, unwittingly in search of her trusty maid who helped her to dress each morning.

  Ruth rushed past her without stopping, her face white and eyes red.

  "Ruth, what on Earth has happened?"

  The young girl looked back blankly at her mistress and ran down the stairs without saying a word. Annoyed, Christabel followed suit, wondering what was going on and almost collided with Edward in the hallway.

  "Edward, what is happening? What are you doing here?"

  Escorting her into the library, he sat her down in one of the great leather chairs but remained standing. She could tell by his face that something serious had happened. "I'm afraid I have bad news for you Christabel.”

  She braced herself, wondering what else could happen in one week. Surely nothing could be as bad as her current situation?

  "I'm afraid Miss Simpson is dead." He remained silent to allow his words to sink in.

  Christabel stared at him, almost laughing in her disbelief. "What do you mean dead? Where is she? Bring her to me now.”

  Edward shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid I cannot. The body has already been taken away for examination by the police.”

  Feeling the panic rise in her body, she stood to face Edward, hardly comprehending his words. "What do you mean? What has happened?"

  "I'm afraid there is no good way of explaining this Christabel. It appears that Miss Simpson was in the kitchen late last night and slipped on the floor, overbalanced, and hit the back of her head against the corner of the table. There was nothing that could be done. When Daisy found her this morning she was already cold. The police have been called in, but I have already spoken with them and told them there is nothing suspicious and they seemed to agree with my conclusion. It's very sad for you, especially so suddenly after losing poor Charles, but then accidents do happen I'm afraid. It appears she was in her stocking feet- no shoes. That's the reason for her slipping on the stone floor.”

  Christabel sat down as the horror of his words finally hit home. Her face turning grey as her mind raced. "I know why she was in the kitchen last night. Mrs. Hudson had received a letter from a man and was due to meet him last night at ten.”

  Edward looked concerned "How do you know about this?"

  “Hannah had seen the letter. She read it when Mrs. Hudson was asleep. It was signed with the initial 'A'. She was too close Edward, too close to finding something to do with Charles death. We were certain of it, and now they have killed her."

  "Who has killed her, what are you talking about Christabel?"

  "Mrs. Hudson and the man she was meeting. They killed Hannah. Oh Edward, I must tell the police." Christabel stood up as if to leave the room.

  Taking her firmly by the hand, Edward sat the young woman back down in the chair. She was shaking visibly and her eyes were wide in fear. "Fetch the police, Edward. We need to tell them about Mrs. Hudson!"

  Edward shook his head "You are getting hysterical Christabel; you need to calm down. Mrs. Hudson is downstairs in the kitchen and is beside herself with grief over the poor woman's death. It was she who sent for me-now would a killer do that?"

  “Well, if it wasn't Mrs. Hudson, then what about the man who wrote the letter? Perhaps he killed her? Edward, we must tell the police!"

  Smiling he patted her on the arm. "There, there, it's been a long week and no wonder you are confused. I will fetch Dr. Briggs and he can give you a sedative to calm you down and to help you sleep.”

  "I'm not confused Edward and I do not need calming. I am perfectly lucid. I know what Hannah told me is true. She was murdered because she knew something, or saw something. Of that I'm certain!” With the last of her energy gone, Christabel broke down in a flood of tears. Edward was right, the week had been too much to bear and she felt exhausted.

  "There, there, I will call for Dr. Briggs. Now don't you worry about a thing. I will let the police know and you can speak to them when you are feeling better.”

  The doctor arrived within minutes, almost as if he had been waiting on standby for a call and Christabel was soon sedated and asleep in bed. When she opened her eyes a severe looking woman in a starched white apron was sitting by her side.

  "Who are you?" She lifted her head drowsily.

  "Now don't you worry Miss, I'm here to look after you. Now, I'll fetch you some soup and I want you to eat it all up like a good girl.”

  Christabel slept and woke and in-between both had strange and frightening dreams. Everything around her seemed to be in such a dark and shadowy haze that she could no longer tell her dreams from reality, or even night from day. The faces of poor Charles and Hannah haunted her and would not let her lie easily. She had no concept of time, and wondered how long she had lain in bed. It could have been one day or one week for all she knew.

  Each time she woke, the nurse was at her side, plying her with drinks or food only fit for invalids. Not that she could manage anything more substantial- she was unnaturally tired. Apparently she had been very ill, her heart and nerves affected by all of the stress and she needed to rest.

  "Drink it all down dear, every last drop.”

  The milk was warm and soothing and the nurse’s voice was faintly hypnotic. It was as she drank the last few drops of milk from the cup that Christabel noticed the white, grainy remains in the bottom. She had been too weak to notice or to think of it before but it was obvious, she was being drugged. No wonder she felt ill.

  As the sedative took hold she tried to keep the thought in her mind before she drifted away into dar
kness.

  When next she woke, Christabel was determined not to eat or drink anything that was put before her. It would be difficult as the nurse watched over her constantly, but she would have to think of a way.

  As the nurse brought her breakfast on a tray, Christabel shivered and pretended to be cold. "Could you fetch me a robe? There will be one in the dressing room next door.”

  The nurse looked surprised, but shrugged. She was being paid generously for very little work and didn't mind the request. "You eat and drink it all up whilst I go and see what I can find. I won't be long.”

  A soon as the door closed behind her, Christabel jumped out of bed, determined to remove some of the food on her plate and empty her cup of liquid. There was no way of knowing how the sedative was being administered and she could take no chances. First, she poured her drink into a potted plant standing on the window sill and then quickly proceeded to empty half the contents of her plate into a drawer in her dressing table. No one would think to look there.

  By the time the nurse returned she was sat back in bed and leaning her head against the pillow. "I've found your robe, now put it on like a good girl. And what about the rest of your breakfast Miss?"

  Christabel wearily put her arms into the robe and yawned. "I don't think I can manage anything else.”

  The nurse narrowed her eyes for a second. "What about your drink?"

  Smiling, Christabel handed her the empty cup. "It's all gone.”

  Looking somewhat relieved the nurse removed the tray and started to tuck Christabel beneath the covers.

  "What day is it?

  "It's Wednesday, Miss and it will be all day.”

  Christabel closed her eyes feigning sleep. Wednesday! The funeral had been a week ago, which meant that she had been in bed for five whole days. Why on Earth should anyone want to keep her here for such a long time?