The Secret of Hollyfield House by Jude Bayton (first ebook reader TXT) 📕

“Forgive me, Mrs S. My mind is elsewhere. I have been on a decidedly important ramble.” He took a seat. “Do you recall the missive that arrived before lunch?”

“Of course, I do,” she flustered. “T’were me who gave it to you when I was on my way out.”

He looked at me for the first time. “Well, let me tell you, Jilly, it was of vital import. My dear, I have been invited by Lord Mountjoy, to participate in an evening of lectures presented by none other than the Royal Pharmaceutical Society. I am to give a detailed talk on the substantial variety of lichens and mosses found here in the Lake District.” His face beamed with pleasure.

I smiled. It was difficult not to, for he looked terribly happy. “I am pleased to hear it, Uncle. Congratulations.” Though I had not lived with him long, I was already attached to the old man. He was my only living relative, after all.

His bushy eyebrows drew close together. “I have only until the twenty-first, so I shall have great need of you these next two weeks, Jilly. It is imperative my notes are up to date and in perfect order.”

Mrs Stackpoole came to the table and placed a cup of tea in front of him along with a thick ham and cheese sandwich. Her capable hands crept onto her broad hips and she shook her head in disapproval. “Never mind your blasted fungi, Professor. When you stop to take a breath, you might ask your poor niece how she fares after the rotten day she’s had. The poor mite has had a nasty shock as well as a tumble.”

Uncle Jasper paused, pushed his spectacles back up his nose and took a large bite of his sandwich. Once he had swallowed, his pale blue eyes fastened upon my face. “Well, go on Jilly, speak up. What has happened?”

I set down my tea and sighed, dreading the telling. “I took a walk this morning down to the lake and had the misfortune to discover a dead body floating in the water.”

Uncle Jasper stared at me, momentarily lost for words. Then he set his food back on the plate and reached over the table to take my cold hands in his. “Oh, my goodness, surely not, dear girl. A body? Good Lord. You have told the police?”

“Yes, of course. I ran to the village as fast as I could and fetched Constable Bloom back there with me. Then he took me to the police station until I was well enough to come home.”

Uncle Jasper searched my face. “My poor, poor dear,” he said softly. “That must have been horrifying. ’Tis rare for something like that to happen here, but with a lake as large as Windermere, sometimes drownings occur. Especially when there are tourists visiting.”

I shook my head. “No, Uncle. This was no accident. There was a deep wound in the man’s chest. Constable Bloom says the man was stabbed.” As the words left my lips, my voice wavered. And then much to my consternation, I began to cry.

Chapter Two

THAT NIGHT, MRS STACKPOOLE PREPARED an Epsom Salt bath which gave soothing comfort to my sore back after a long soak. As I climbed slowly into bed, she brought me up a small snifter of ‘medicinal’ brandy to help me sleep.

By morning, my mental state was much improved, even though I had woken from bad dreams more than once in the night. My body ached, and it took longer than usual for me to dress as my shoulders and neck were stiff. When I arrived downstairs in the kitchen, Mrs Stackpoole already had the kettle on the hob and sliced bread ready to toast.

“How are you this mornin’? Did you get any rest at all?” she enquired as I walked into the room.

“A little. The bath and brandy really helped. Thank you, Mrs Stackpoole.”

“You are most welcome, poor dear,” she said, spearing a slice of bread to hold over the flame of the stove. “You look much better than you did last night. Got some colour back in your cheeks.” She turned the bread to toast the opposite side. “Your uncle has already breakfasted an’ gone off on his ramble. He’s that excited about his bloomin’ lecture, he all but floated out of the door.”

I smiled, then had a sobering thought. “Do you think it safe for him to be out alone after what happened yesterday?” I could not help but worry.

“Of course,” she blustered. “That man can take care of himself.” She placed the slab of toast onto a plate and gestured for me to come and take it. “The only danger he’s in is breakin’ his neck gallivantin’ up and down those hills.”

I spread butter on my toast. She was right. I pictured the old professor, surprisingly spry for a man in his late sixties. “’Tis a wonderful thing to have a passion in life, Mrs Stackpoole. I believe it keeps Uncle Jasper young.”

“I don’t know about that.” She poured boiling water into a teapot and carried it to the table. Her vast grey curls spilled from underneath her white mob-cap, and her ample bosom jiggled as she took a seat.

The housekeeper poured our tea, and my mind reached back to the horror I had seen the day before. I quickly shook it away. Instead, I thought of the young woman I had met.

“Mrs Stackpoole, do you know much about the LaVelles?” Last night I had told her how their carriage had knocked me down, but not elaborated beyond that.

She took a sip of tea. “Well, as much as any of the village folk would ’bout a family like that, I s’pose. Why do you ask?”

“After the accident, I met Miss Evergreen LaVelle. She was most apologetic and concerned I was not badly hurt. She invited me to join her for luncheon tomorrow.” I reached in my pocket and extracted her card. “She gave me this and said the carriage