Page 23 of The Demons of Wychwood

THE RECKONING

The third day at Penhelligan was a much quieter affair as Mr. Beckett spent much of the time penning the witness statements from the notations he had made during the interviews with servants. This would be done in triplicate as copies were to be sent to Napier’s lawyer and to the district judge Sir Edgar Hawthorne. I went with Mrs. Trelawney to visit my Ma’s grave, ashamed that I hadn’t done so before. I left three spring flowers on the gravestone, one each from me, Elowen and Bess.

Later in the afternoon when I got back to the hall Kit called to me as I strode towards the stairs.

“Felix, would you please come in,” I paused and backtracked. Kit and Beckett were in the study and all of the affidavits were laid out across the length of the large desk.

“I know it is an unenviable task, but—could you please read the statements and then sign each as a witness?”

I held a hand up stopping Kit’s next words from leaving his mouth. “I told you; I’ll do all I can to help get justice for Elowen and the other girls and boys. This ain’t no imposition.”

And so, for the next three hours until dinner was served, I sat in the study by the fire reading through the grim retellings of how General Napier had terrorized the servants of Penhelligan.

After dinner we three men took glasses of port and sat together in a grand smoking room that overlooked the rear of the house. It was strange that although I wasn’t of Kit’s or Mr. Beckett’s class I didn’t feel out of place, or less worthy. We three had done a good deed these past few days and we were on our way to a reckoning against a beast. I silently sipped port as I looked out into the darkness of the cliff top garden at night. The lawn appeared to drop off the edge of the world. The roar of the roiling sea below was strangely soothing. Another storm was upon us, which, for those of us born and bred in Devon was par for the course. It’s in our blood to batten down and keep warm until the storm has passed. Memories came to me, of being curled up in bed with mum and Elowen during countless storms, and they gave me a comforting feeling. I was pulled from my memories by the deep voices of my compatriots.

“Do we have enough?” Kit had asked Beckett as he puffed on a cigar. I was more than happy with my glass of port, but I was not fond of the smoke.

“We have verified affidavits from the families of the deceased maids, two missing stable boys, and statements from current members of the household that tell of Napier’s misdeeds. Some of the statements could be dismissed as hearsay, but the list of witnesses is compelling and I would be surprised if the judge dismissed the case after reading the documents we’ve collated. The arrest warrant was sent on the mail train and should have reached London this morning. There is nothing left to do until we hear word that an arrest has been made.”

I was glad to hear this, for I wanted the cruel General Napier to be wiped off the face of the Earth.

“Very well. We will begin our journey back to London tomorrow and await news. Tickets for the ten o’clock train have been purchased.” Kit informed. “I’ll need to speak with my mother as soon as possible and provide the evidence to her. I don’t know if she’ll believe me. She always chooses Edward over me,” Kit said mournfully.

“A mother’s job is to protect her kiddies. I’d say that if you tell her of your sister, and why you forced her hand to send Georgia to college out of London, your Ma might change her tune pretty sharpish! If she don’t then she ain’t worth your time. ”

“I do hope that is the case. Once the court has these affidavits the scandal will soon be public knowledge. I would hate to cut mother off for siding with her cruel husband in this matter.”

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I spent another warm comfortable night sharing a huge bed with my lover. Kit was different from the skittish shadow I’d met at Wychwood. Now he reached for me without fear, caressed and cared for me with such tenderness I thought I must be dreaming. How did little Felix Lazarus land on his feet like this? I had no answers to the questions tumbling around in my head, and listening to the howling wind I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke in the darkness at hearing a hammering boom. Again, the booming sound made me jump and I turned to the nightstand to light a candle. Kit stirred then. “What the devil is that racket?” he said sleepily. The reverberating boom came again, and again. It was as if someone’s was fist pounding on the front door of the hall. Kit appeared as terrified as I felt. What the bleedin’ hell was going on? Who was banging on the door in the middle of the night? Then I heard the demanding roar of an angry male voice. I knew that voice all too-well and it chilled me to the bone. I turned to Kit and he knew that voice too.

“How the hell did Napier know we was here?” I scrambled out of bed and into my clothes as the roaring demands continued. Then a light, sharp knocking came on the bedroom door.

“Milord, milord, it’s the General. Whatever shall we do?” Mrs. Trelawney shrieked.

“A moment my dear.” Kit pulled on britches and a shirt. He opened the bedroom door with me behind him. The cook was standing there in her night dress, a candleholder lit. The candlelight danced across her face and made her appear ghostly.

“Wake up young Joseph. Tell him to go down the back stairs and out to the stables, lock the door behind him. He should take a horse; he needs to go to Exeter and inform the Police of trouble at Penhelligan. I’ll do my best to keep the General outside.” The cook nodded and scurried away.

Napier continued to hammer on the door. Both Kit and I donned our boots and made our way towards the staircase.

“I know you’re in there Havelock,” Napier roared, his voice filled with hatred. The sound made Kit still with fear. I was always good in a crisis, so thinking on my feet, I asked, “Do you have any weapons?”

“Of course I do, the Long Hall has walls full of them.”

“Stay here,” I ordered leaving Kit in the hall at the top of the staircase .

I hurried down the stairs with just a candlestick to light my way. The violent pummeling on the front door made my body quake. I entered the room they called the Long Hall which was indeed a long room where in the olden day’s residents would walk and gossip. I saw the prizes of warfare taken from battles by members of the Havelock family displayed as trophies. I put the candle down on a table and then removed a sword and shields from the display. Retrieving the candle, I returned to Kit and gave the weapons to him.

“Gods, what the hell am I going to do with these, run the blaggard through?”

“Yes, if you have to. He sounds mighty pissed. You know someone told him what we were doing. I don’t think there’s a long list of names as to who that could be! That bastard Quintrelle double-crossed us!”

We stood on the landing as the sound of approaching footsteps brought the doddery old butler Mr. Jenkins into view as he came down from his room in the attic.

“Forgive my tardiness milord, it takes me longer to get dressed in the dark, you see. I shall open the door and let the General in,” the butler said.

“NO!” Kit and I roared in unison.

“Do you not recall my orders, Jenkins? The General is not welcome here. I believe he means to do us harm. Please go and ensure the ladies are safely locked in their rooms. Do not come out until the police have arrived.”

“Very good, milord.”

It was after Jenkins had gone that I realized something. The hammering on the front door had stopped and an eerie silence fell over Penhelligan Hall.

“What are we going to do?” Kit asked in an insistent whisper

“Wait here.”

I rushed into the master’s bedroom and headed for the balcony window then I gently pulled back the drapes to have a sly look at what was going on outside. The moon was behind the bank of fast-moving clouds belonging to the storm. When a silvery beam shot through, I saw just one lone riderless horse tied up in the courtyard. Where the devil was Napier?

I rushed back out to the landing to find Kit with his sword aloft. The weapon was shaking in his hands. He had not followed his late father into the military, preferring a university education in architecture. It was clear to me that my dear Christopher Havelock wasn’t cut out for this battle, and may, in fact become a hindrance.

“There’s no coach, just one horse. Quintrelle must have sent him a letter with a runner on a mail train. It’s the only way he could have gotten here so fast,” I said.

“Damn the man, where is he? ”

Then we heard the distant spine-chilling sound of breaking glass. The brute had smashed a window to get into the house. I turned to Kit; his eyes were wide with fear and alarm.

“Take the sword and shield, go to the servant’s room in your suite, lock yourself in. Don’t open the door unless you hear me say honey cakes, do you understand?”

“But, but I can’t leave you to face him alone!”

I placed my hands on Kit’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “I’m a trained soldier and I’ve probably seen more action than a poncy cove that purchased his rank. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Now go on, go, I can handle him.” I kissed Kit on the lips and felt the thrill of his short stubble against my skin. I wanted more but we would have to finish this later. I was determined to end this mess now, for the sake of my sister, and this aristocrat who has swiftly become dear to me. Kit nodded reluctantly, knowing there was no argument to be had, and then he rushed into the master’s suite, closed, and locked the door.

Again, the training my old reprobate of a father gave me came to the fore. We’d had some sticky situations with a few of our break-ins and needed to be tricksy. Ferron Lazarus had grown up in a family of players who travelled from village to town entertaining for coin. He’d taught me a trick or two about using the senses to cause distractions.

Penhelligan Hall was a huge old mansion house that was not connected to the gas mains, and so, without even a lantern Napier had no light to guide him to his prey. I reckoned he came in through the kitchens at the far back of the house, so I had, say, five minutes to prepare. As was my nature, when I’d first come to the hall, I’d thought on the kinds of items my Pa would have eyeballed because he wanted to pocket them, or to use them in case of discovery. These grand houses all had back staircases for the servants, just like Wychwood. This little architectural oddity was a boon for a sneakthief.

And so, in this grand old house filled with display cabinets of knick-knacks and thingy-me-bobs, I put my plan into motion. I collected items of use, first a bowl of rose petal Pot-Pori that I sprinkled around the floor at the bottom of the main staircase. I picked up five books from a bookshelf and placed them flat at intervals on the stair treads. From a table I lifted a heavy bronze eagle statue and placed it at the top of the stairs. I picked up an empty brass urn that would be very useful indeed. And finally, from a cabinet in the drawing room I took collection of marble eggs, filling my pockets. When all was done and placed exactly where I wanted, I crouched inside the doorway of the servants back stairs with my lit candle and the door ajar. I waited and listened in the darkness for the enemy to approach.

The first sign Napier was coming was the jingle of the silver spurs on his boots. The second sign as he got closer to the entrance hall was his angered rumbling roar. “Havelock. Come down here, NOW! You are mine, boy! Mine to toy with, mine to punish, mine to claim.”

I was right; Napier was mighty pissed-off. I left the candle at the top of the hidden staircase and, quite as a mouse; I scurried down the stairs and opened the door at the bottom which led to the entrance hall. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then outside the clouds parted and a shaft of moonlight flooded in through the front door fanlight. I saw him then. Napier was walking slowly with his hand following along the wall using the track of dado rail as he struggled in the darkness to find his way to the stairs. The moonlight vanished again, and I blinked to restore my night vision. I removed a stone egg from my pocket and then rolled it down the hall towards Napier like I was playing skittles. The hard rolling sound echoed in the huge empty hallway, and then there was a bang when it hit the skirting board.

“What? Who’s there?” Napier barked. “Jenkins is that you? Come here at once, light some bally candles, I can’t see a damn thing.”

I removed two more stone eggs from my pocket and rolled them together. Again, the sound they caused was discombobulating cos it didn’t have a direction, but swirled and echoed as the eggs travelled down the hall. One egg hit the leg of a pedestal plant stand, it wobbled and the potted fern fell, the pot smashing.

“Damn your eyes! I’ve had about enough of these games. Havelock, I know you’re here. Rupert told me of your sneaky little plan to discredit me and bar me from my home. It won’t work you know. I have more power than you believe. Now get down here and face me like a man, damnit!”

I scurried back up the servant’s stairs. I then heard the crunch of the dried leaves and petals of the Pot-Pori I’d sprinkled at the bottom of the main staircase. As soon as Napier heard the crunch under foot he paused.

“What the devil?” he said, then a moment later, “You think you’re so bloody clever, don’t you boy?”

I grinned, cos yes, I did think I was clever and I was about to be this scoundrel’s worst fucking nightmare. I picked up the brass urn, removed the lid then I moved out onto the landing. I peeked through the slats of the carved balusters of the staircase then in a hoarse whisper, I spoke into the brass urn.

“Edwaaaard.” The sound was so creepy I had to hold in a laugh. “Edwaaaard.” I said again.

“W…who’s there? Come out and show yourself, man,” Napier growled.

“Am no man. You know me Edwaaard, you know what I am.” I had to admit, my old Pa would have been proud as punch to watch this show, cos if I was in Napier’s place I would have shit my britches.

“Come out and show yourself, damn you!” Napier spat with rage as he began to climb the stairs. He stepped on a book and his foot slid from under him as the book barreled down the stairs. Napier reached out for the handrail and caught himself before he hit the step above, head first. He growled and screamed out.

“Havelock, you brat! Enough of these games. You’re going to rue the day you thought you could best me!”

“Not Havelock. Am Deeemon.” I said into the urn. Now, that stopped the General in his tracks and I’d wished I could see his face.

“W…w…what are you talking about?” The General’s voice trembled with fear for the first time and that made me smile.

“Deeemon. You have tried to subdue me for years, Edwaaard.”

“No, no, this cannot be.” Through the balustrades I could see that Napier was now proceeding up the stairs with more caution using his hands to feel each tread before he stepped up.

“I’m going to kill you Havelock, and then I’ll kill your hag of a mother. I’ll take Georgia to be my wife and this estate will be ours,” Napier growled.

My gawd, this cove was a dumb as they come, telling all and sundry of his nefarious plans. Well, I was in control of this little escapade, not him, and as far as I was concerned Napier was a rapist, and fraudster. He would find his justice tonight.

I stood up then and strode across the landing to the head of the staircase.

”I don’t think so, Napier.”

“Who the devil are you?” he called, “Where is Havelock?”

“We’ve never met, you and I, but I know you, oh yes I know you, Edward Napier. You forced yourself on my sister, Elowen Lazarus. She was a maid here, you raped her, and then you tried to dispose of her like she was shit on your boot. You’re a boil on the arse of this world, and everyone will be better off without you in it. I’d say it’s about time that you got your reckoning.”

Napier roared ‘Never,” and rushed forward up the stairs. He tried to grab me, but I swerved from his grip and in a swift action, I bent down, collected the heavy bronze eagle statue and swung it. The eagle flew and the General kindly stepped up into its path. The heavy statue struck the General. His arms flew out like he was Jesus himself on the cross, and then they flailed and windmilled. His eyes bugged for a second before, without even a cry of pain he fell backward and tumbled down the stairs.

I waited then as the house settled. I knew the silence of death. I’d sat with comrades for their final moments and so I was well acquainted with the swish of the reapers blade. I nodded with satisfaction. This scoundrel wouldn’t hurt another soul. Now, I’d say I had the time to cover my tracks and put the house to rights. I returned the Eagle statue to its place, then the urn. I collected the books from the staircase, and then retrieved the stone eggs, but left the Pot-Pori and smashed planter where they was. When all was back in place only then did I find another candle, light it, and check the state of the twisted pile at the bottom of the main staircase. Napier’s eyes were open, unseeing, and he had a cut on his brow where I’d struck him, but from the odd angle that his head and arms rested, I’d say he broke his neck during the fall. Between you and me, I knew I’d committed murder and could hang for this. But I felt nothing for this useless bag of skin and bones who’d brought terror to so many lives.

I returned to the master’s suite, knocked on the door, and said ‘Honey Cakes’. I heard a scrabbling sound from the room, then the key turned and the door swung open. Kit still looked terrified, and it was with some satisfaction that I nonchalantly told him. “The old bastard’s dead, slipped on the stairs. Serves him right for breaking in, and prowling around in the dark.”

“A…are you sure, is he really dead?”

“Go see for yourself.”

I took Kit’s hand, and holding the candle aloft took him to the staircase and let him look at the body twisted at the bottom of the stairs.

“I can’t believe it, oh god, Felix, I’m free of him. I’m finally free.”

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