My name is Glen Raymond McVarley. I
am a local reporter assigned to follow the investigation surrounding the death
of Mr. Samuel Pryor, a resident of Wolfton, in Kent, who was found on the property
of Lord Richard and Lady Madeleine Willoughby, who reside at Lionshead Manor,
also in Wolfton, Kent.
What follows are statements made to
me by several individuals questioned during the investigation.
Geoffrey, the Butler
My name is Geoffrey Abbott, and I became
the Butler for Lord and Lady Willoughby nearly 10 years ago, in 1947, when I
was in my late forties. The position suited me perfectly since I had no other
family after losing my wife and daughter in an automobile accident. The
Willoughbys and the Staff, including a chauffeur, two maids, a cook and several
groundskeepers, became my family.
Lionshead Manor is very elegant, surrounded
by woods, with beautiful flower gardens in both the front and back. The colors
and smells are captivating and the back garden provides a comfortable sitting
area suitable for small parties, with pathways leading back to other parts of
the estate, including stables for the horses, chicken pens, rabbit warrens and
vegetable gardens.
With the exception of Lord Willoughby’s
occasional overnight out-of-town travel for purposes relating to his mining
business, life at the Manor was quite routine. The days were spent in whatever
pleasurable pursuits Lord and Lady Willoughby decided upon both separately and together.
The evenings often included elaborate dinner parties.
Lady Willoughby, now a widow, is in
her 33rd year, standing approximately 5’ 7” tall, with beautiful red hair (not
the unattractive brash reddish color), which falls midway down her back. Oh, yes,
and deep blue eyes. And best of all, to me at any rate, a melodious laugh which
would simply light up the room and a smile that could….oh dear. Sorry. I’m
getting a bit carried away.
Where was I now. Oh, yes.
Everyone loved Lady Willoughby.
When Lord Willoughby died suddenly
from a heart attack a year ago at the age of 44, Lady Willoughby withdrew
completely, rarely leaving Lionshead or interacting with her friends. She
passed her long, lonely days (and some nights) sitting in the parlor. Just
sitting. Reliving whatever memories her brain recreated for her.
But she seldom cried. At least not
openly. I would have known.
All this was very painful for the Staff
to observe. The Cook would attempt to draw her out with delicious aromas
emanating from the kitchen and wafting their way throughout the house. All Lady
Willoughby’s favorites, of course.
To no avail.
I, however, possessing absolutely no
talents suitable for amusement purposes, was unable to offer any solace and
simply answered the tinkling of her bell to attend to her wishes. There were
some times, sadly, that by the time I reached her she would have forgotten the
reason for the summons. It was those times I could see the pain trying to
escape through her eyes.
Helpless. That’s how I felt. For as
you may already be aware, there is no remedy for a broken heart. The pain may
abate somewhat, but it is never fully healed.
So, I spent my days attending to
whatever tasks normally consume the time and attention of someone in my
position. All the while grieving for her in my own private way.
Samuel Pryor was the owner of a much
smaller estate on the opposite side of the woods where, with the help of a
live-in housekeeper, he cared for his five year-old nephew. Being the child’s
only relative, Mr. Pryor assumed guardianship when the child’s mother died after
a long illness.
Unmarried at the age of 40, and a
physically unimpressive man of little importance in the community, he was sometimes
invited to social events at the Manor, including the annual Yuletide Masquerade
Ball, as a result of his relationship with Lord Willoughby.
It was at one of these festivities I
saw him maneuvering to be near Lady Willoughby. I took notice immediately as he
moved closer to her – guest by guest – working his way across the room.
Lord Willoughby, by nature
gregarious and no stranger to the bottom of a wine glass, was apparently
blithely unaware of Mr. Pryor’s attempts, focusing instead on the attention shown
him, especially by his female guests.
I do not know whether or not Lady
Willoughby was aware of Mr. Pryor’s behavior. If she was, she made no show of
it. Once appearing beside her, she rarely gave him more than polite notice. As
one would expect from a lady of such fine character.
Which brings me now to the situation
at hand.
Following the customary year-long
period of mourning after Lord Willoughby’s untimely death, Samuel Pryor
appeared at the Manor door. Bearing flowers. And a book of poetry. Requesting
an audience with Lady Willoughby. I excused myself, left him in the foyer, and went
into the library to inform her of Mr. Pryor’s arrival.
“Offer my apologies and tell him I
am indisposed, will you, Geoffrey?” she instructed.
“Of course.”
Whereupon I returned to advise Mr. Pryor that
Lady Willoughby was unwell.
His face reddened slightly, “Of
course. Please give her my condolences and wishes for a speedy recovery.”
Over the weeks, this scenario
repeated itself several times, eventually minus the gifts, with Mr. Pryor’s
face reddening deeper each time. Even I was beginning to become uncomfortable.
Would the man never get the point??
Sometime later I overheard a
conversation among some of the Staff about an occasion when Mr. Pryor chanced
upon Lady Willoughby in town with her friends. Taking this opportunity, he expressed
his delight at seeing her recovered from her illness and the hope they would
soon meet again.
This came as a complete surprise to
her friends, as they were totally unaware of her suffering an illness!
Thankfully, they did not voice their thoughts in the presence of Samuel Pryor.
Eventually it appeared that Mr.
Pryor had abandoned his relentless pursuit of Lady Willoughby, and things
seemed to return to relative normalcy.
However, after a brief period of
peace and quiet, late one night I was awakened by a call of Nature and, thinking
I heard a noise outside, looked out my window and noticed a slight movement a
short way down the garden path.
I dressed and made my way through
the back door. It was at this moment I realized I not only had no means of defense,
I had no light by which to illuminate my surroundings, limiting my ability (and
desire) to investigate very far, and made my way back to my room.
I reported the incident to the local
constabulary the next day, informing them of my suspicions regarding Samuel
Pryor, describing his appearances at the Manor and various attempts to gain
Lady Willoughby’s attention. Hiding in the garden at night in hopes of spying
on her through her bedroom window.
After much head-scratching and beard-stroking
the authorities decided there was no actual PROOF of my suspicions, saying they
were unable to act on mere suspicion alone.
Bah!
They did, however, agree to speak
with Mr. Pryor. Which, of course, turned out to be a complete waste of time. He
knew nothing. Saw nothing. Did nothing.
Again, bah!
Several weeks later a piercing
shriek broke the early morning quiet. It didn’t take long to discover the Cook in
the garden, shaking violently, standing over the very still form of Samuel
Pryor lying on the cobblestones.
While checking his body for signs of
life, I found a gaping wound at the back of his head.
Dead. Obviously. No question.
Finally, Charlotte was calmed enough
to speak. “Oh Geoffrey! I was taking food to the rabbits when I found….” and at
this point she merely pointed to the unfortunate Mr. Pryor.
Then I saw Lady Willoughby making
her way toward me on the path.
“What has happened??”
“There’s been an accident. Let’s
get you both back to the house.” I managed to divert her before she had a
chance to get a good look at the scene and then ushered her and Charlotte back
into the house.
Then I quickly scoured the area
to…well, I don’t actually know what I was thinking. It just seemed the obvious
thing to do. However, I found nothing out of order and summoned the authorities,
who appeared on the scene in a mere three quarters of an hour. Death not being
of sufficient importance to interrupt breakfast, perhaps?
Following lengthy interrogations of
the household Staff as well as Lady Willoughby, the authorities eventually concluded
that since no weapon had been found, and there was no evidence of a struggle,
the unfortunate Mr. Pryor had simply fallen upon the stones in the garden
during one of his nocturnal spying attempts. The only item of the slightest interest
was a hairpin, determined to belong to Lady Willoughby, found on the ground
near the body. This was hardly significant, since it was known that she often
took walks in the garden.
At long last, they offered weak apologies
for not investigating previous reports of Mr. Pryor’s nighttime forays. That
was it. Results of any further investigative efforts on the part of the
constabulary remained unknown to me.
Things at Lionshead Manor returned
to normal, including preparations for the fast-approaching holiday season and
the Yuletide Masquerade Ball.
I resumed my responsibility of
tending to the needs of Lady Willoughby and the Cook continued to draw her to
the dining table with aromas impossible to ignore.
And best of all, the sweet music of
laughter once again rang throughout the Manor.
.Lady Madeleine Willoughby
When my husband died suddenly, I
felt as if my world had ended. He was my life. My love. And I continue to carry
the love and the pain in my soul.
Despite the tireless efforts of my
loyal Staff, nothing could pluck me from the darkness into which I withdrew. My
dear butler, Geoffrey, did his best to ensure I was not needlessly disturbed. I
daresay he most likely threw himself in front of my chamber door to prevent any
intrusion! He rarely appeared except to bring medicine for sleep if I should
need it.
The Cook, Charlotte, spent her days
planning and preparing delectable culinary delights in an attempt to lure me
from my room as the aromas sneaked under whatever door I had sequestered myself
behind.
I sometimes overheard them
discussing their concern for my well-being. I daresay even the gardener was included
whenever his presence in the house was required to discuss some issue or
another!
As I have said quite frequently, I
am blessed with a devoted and protective Staff.
Before my beloved Richard died, this
manor was alive with gaiety and happiness. He so loved a party, being in the presence
of attractive – sometimes fawning - women, celebrating whatever event took his
fancy. Any excuse would suffice. Richard could be quite charming and loved being
the center of attention.
He especially loved the annual gala
Yuletide masquerade ball. During the months of secret planning and scheming,
Richard would finally be allowed entry to the ballroom as the Staff would
slowly open the doors and display their efforts.
It was always a big production in
which Richard would be wonderfully amazed and full of praise for their work.
What the Staff did not know, however, was that my husband was not above quietly
creeping down the stairs late at night and making his way to the ballroom to
take a peek inside before he was allowed to see.
He did not know, however, that I was
aware of this charade! And I never let on.
I also enjoyed the celebration.
Except for…Samuel Pryor.
My husband and Mr. Pryor shared a business
relationship of sorts. He and Richard would close themselves behind the study
door to deal with matters which required their joint attention. I never knew
the nature of their dealings. A wife should not be bothered with such things.
At least that was how my Richard felt. He was no doubt correct in that.
Although I had met Mr. Pryor, I rarely
conversed with him. There was just something about him that made me uneasy. While
I have no specific support for this conclusion, he struck me as a devious
little man. Not to be trusted. However, I never made my feelings known to
Richard.
Although not an entirely
insufferable man, Samuel Pryor lacked the gentlemanly traits I found desirable
in my husband. Richard was not only quite handsome with his salt and pepper
hair, he possessed wit, charm, and intelligence. All qualities lacking in Mr.
Pryor.
There were times at the holiday ball
that Mr. Pryor would seek me out. Did he think I did not recognize him even under
his disguise? How silly. Of course I did. His attempts at conversation were
embarrassing. His behavior struck me as anything but appropriate.
Following the requisite year of
mourning, Mr. Pryor increased his efforts to gain my attention. Several times he
appeared at the door bearing gifts and flowers, hoping for an audience. At such
times I instructed Geoffrey to dismiss him with whatever excuse he could think
of.
After several such efforts, Geoffrey
ceased informing me of his arrival and simply sent him away. Politely, of course.
Then one night, as was my habit, I opened
my chamber window to allow fresh air into the room, and noticed a slight
movement below. But after a few moments, I saw nothing further and returned to
my bed. Convinced my eyes deceived me in the darkness.
I mentioned this to the Staff the
next day to determine if they’d had the same experience. They looked at each
other, shook their heads and went about their business.
After that, however, they seemed to
begin hovering. Did they think I was going mad?
Samuel Pryor had remained quiet. No
gifts. No flowers. I dared hope he had given up his pursuit of my attention.
Then there came the terrible shock
of learning that he was lying dead in my garden.
I had remained in bed later than usual
that day because I wasn’t feeling well, but arose quickly when I heard a scream
from outside. I hurriedly put on my robe and made my way down the garden path.
Before I got very far, Geoffrey took my arm and quickly ushered Charlotte and
me back into the house. It was then Charlotte told me what she had found.
The poor thing was a quivering mess,
and although shaken myself, I somehow managed to remain calm enough to hold her
hand while assuring her that everything would be alright.
As I recall, it was some time before
the authorities arrived.
After questioning first Charlotte, myself,
Geoffrey and the rest of the Staff, the officers conducted a search of sorts,
looking for clues I imagine.
The only item they managed to find
was one of my hairpins on the ground near the body. This was hardly suspicious since
it is well known that I frequently take early morning walks in the garden. I
simply had not yet discovered the hairpin had fallen out of my hair at some point.
I do not know what to make of all this.
Quite shocking, of course. Perhaps I should have taken Mr. Pryor’s behavior
more seriously, not just a nuisance! It is quite disturbing to me actually. And
the questions posed by the authorities were….almost accusatory in nature.
Yes, yes, I suppose they were only
doing their job, however, their manner was offensive. I am not accustomed to
having to explain my movements in my own home!
Life has returned to its usual pace
now, although the investigation by the authorities continues. And as for me, I intend to occupy my time and
thoughts with the happier activities relative to the Masquerade Ball.
Charlotte, the Cook
When I began my employment at the
Manor I was 33. That was nearly 10 years ago, and I hoped it would be my home
for the rest of my life. Lord and Lady Willoughby were kind people who treated
me very well. But I always knew my “place” was in the kitchen..
The Staff are close and watch after
one another. Almost like a real family. The only thing missing from our
“family” is children. We knew Lord and Lady Willoughby were unable to bear children
and it was never mentioned in their presence.
When friends of Lady Willoughby who
were fortunate enough to have children would visit, she was at her happiest. It
was a joy to watch her interact with the children. She loved it so much. The
halls would ring with their laughter!
The years passed quickly. My days spent
in the kitchen and my nights in the Staff quarters or my bed chamber, which was
at the back of the house on the bottom floor next to the kitchen.
Life was ordinary and I was happy.
Then Lord Willoughby died and the
sadness that fell over the Manor weighed heavily on all of us. Lady Willoughby
stayed in her chamber where her meals were taken to her on the occasions she
chose to eat.
It was heartbreaking.
After the year of mourning passed,
Lady Willoughby slowly returned to her usual self. But nothing was ever quite
the same. The joy was gone from her laughter and her eyes could not entirely
disguise her sadness.
It was about this time that Samuel
Pryor started coming around. He would arrive with flowers and a gift of some
kind, and Lady Willoughby would tell Geoffrey to send him away.
We all thought he would eventually
give up, but that didn’t happen. I always kept my rolling pin handy just in
case!
Samuel Pryor
would
have been in serious trouble if any of us had caught him hanging about! We are
very protective of our “family.”
I’ve been here since I was 16,
which is almost 7 years now. Just like everyone else at the Manor, I consider
this my home and family. Lord and Lady Willoughby always treated me well. And
Geoffrey, the Butler, keeps a close eye on all the Staff.
I never really saw anything strange
going on with Mr. Pryor, other than what some of the other Staff told me about suspecting
him of prowling around in the back garden at night. And then one day Charlotte found him dead on
the pathway.
How awful that must have been for
her! Glad I’m not the one that found
him! Poor Charlotte! I wouldn’t put it past her to give him a good thunk with
her rolling pin if she caught him snooping around, but kill him? No! Charlotte isn’t that kind of person!
Marjorie, the Downstairs
Maid
I’ve only been here a few months. Gilda
Radowitz, a friend of my Aunt Karen, was kind enough to recommend me to Mr. Abbott.
I am only 16 and this is my first position. I am still learning how to do my
job properly. I don’t have a lot of time for anything other than following Mr. Abbott
about while he explains what is expected of me. Other than sometimes
overhearing the other Staff talking, I don’t know very much about what goes on.
I spend what little personal time I
have helping the stable boys with the horses. Johnny and Stephen have been very
nice to me and Johnny is teaching me how to ride. He hasn’t been here much
longer than I have. I don’t think they like each other though. Sometimes I can hear
them arguing. They stop as soon as they see me coming.
One time, after I was sure everyone
was in bed asleep, I sneaked Johnny into the house because he’d never been
inside before and wanted to see what it’s like. He was only inside for a few
minutes. I hope I don’t get into trouble!
I had heard the other Staff talking
about Mr. Pryor, but I don’t think I ever saw the man. The constables asked me
a few questions, but there was nothing I could tell them that would help them
figure out what happened to him.
I have no idea what happened to Mr.
Pryor! I did overhear the Staff talking about him, but they’re always gossiping
about something, so I didn’t pay much attention. I figure he was snooping
around where he shouldn’t have been and he fell. And died on the spot.
I have better things to do with my time.
I will leave the police work to those who know what they’re doing.
I don’t know
much about the Samuel Pryor business, other than what Majorie told us. All I do know is Johnny likes her. I’ve been tryin’
to train him with the horses, but it doesn’t seem like he’s really interested in
learnin’. Always talkin’ about what he wants to do somewhere else. He’ll probably
leave here the first chance he gets. It’s a waste of time for me to train the guy.
He’s not a
person I would trust. Nope.
Marjorie let
him into the Manor one night because he wanted to see the inside. I tried to tell
her that was a bad idea, but she wouldn’t listen. She’s nice girl an’ I hope she
doesn’t get into trouble over it
.
Johnny, the Stable
Boy
When Majorie let me in the Manor that
time, she didn’t know it was so I could check the place out and see if there was
anythin’ I could easily steal.
I hated my job in the stables and needed money
to get away. I never got along with Stephen. He always acted like he was better
‘n me an’ was always criticizin’ my work. After another nasty go-around with
him – this one over Marjorie - I decided the time was right, and sneaked into
the Manor through an unlocked cellar window I saw during my tour. I took the stairs
to the main floor an’ started stuffin’ the few silver items I found in the dinin’
room in the bag I brought with me.
Suddenly, I thought I heard someone comin’
an’ ran back down to the cellar an’ crawled out the window the way I come in.
Totally panicked, I ran down the garden path
and collided with someone, knockin’ ‘em backward onto the cobblestones. I hadn’t
seen ‘im! I shoulda stopped but was afraid someone else was right behind me. I kept
runnin’ back to the stables, picked up the small bag with my stuff, grabbed one
of the horses and escaped through the woods.
A few months later, I got caught after
I broke into another place. I still had some stuff I stole from Lionshead Manor
which did me up for the theft there.
When I found out Samuel Pryor was dead,
I tried to explain that it was an accident. Honest, I didn’t mean to hurt the man!
I only wanted to get away! I didn’t know no one had seen me!
I heard Majorie was dismissed from Lionshead.
Please tell her I’m sorry. I really do like her.
The Butler finishes the story…
Four months after Samuel Pryor’s
death, I answered the front door of the Manor to find an elderly woman holding the
hand of a young boy. I recognized neither the woman nor the child.
“May I help you?” I inquired.
“I do hope so,” she replied. “My name is Joyce
Meriweather. I am…or I should say was…
Samuel Pryor’s housekeeper. And this young man is Anthony. He is Mr. Pryor’s nephew.”
“Yes?” I impatiently urged her to continue
after glancing at the boy.
“Before he passed, Mr. Pryor gave me
instructions that, should anything happen to him, I was to take Anthony to Lionshead
and give this envelope to Lady Willoughby. Only
Lady Willoughby.
“Would it be possible to speak with her?”
I invited her into the foyer while I
went to the library to repeat the information I had just been given.
“I have no idea what she wants, but she
refuses to explain further or release the envelope to anyone but you. Perhaps you
could spare a moment?”
Lady Willoughby thought for several moments
before saying, “Very well, Geoffrey. Let’s find out what this is all about so we
can finally put the dreadful Mr. Pryor behind us once and for all!!
“Show her into the study.”
With that, I returned to the foyer to
fetch Ms. Meriweather and the boy and led her to the study. Lady Willoughby requested
that I remain in the room.
“So, Ms. Meriweather, how can I help
you?” asked Lady Willoughby as she stood behind the great oak desk.
“This is very awkward for me, but in
this envelope are instructions and documents Mr. Pryor gave me before his death.”
The woman handed the envelope to Lady Willoughby, who invited her to be seated.
As she began to look at the documents,
Lady Willoughby turned quite pale and began to tremble. I feared she may faint and
encouraged her to sit down. As she did so, she handed me the documents, which to
my horror included a birth certificate for the young child, naming Richard Willoughby
as the father!
Also in the envelope was a letter instructing
the housekeeper to bring the child to the Manor and confront Lady Willoughby with
her husband’s secret, adding that he had kept quiet as long as Lord Willoughby paid
him a certain amount of money each month.
But after Lord Willoughby died, along
with him went the blackmail money.
“The funds left me by Mr. Pryor have
run out. I am going back to Wales to live with my daughter, and I cannot take Anthony
with me. Since you are, indirectly, his only relative now, I must ask that you accept
guardianship of him. I have no other option for the child’s care.”
Suddenly, some things became clear to Lady
Willoughby. The reason for the behind-closed-doors meetings, and her husband’s overnight
sojourns out of town. One can only guess at the reason behind Mr. Pryor’s behavior
toward Lady Willoughby. Perhaps after Lord Willoughby’s death he hoped to become
her husband’s replacement by using the information he held as “encouragement”?
We will never know for sure.
Although she inquired about the child’s
mother, the housekeeper had little information, since she’d been hired after the
mother’s death.
To say Lady Willoughby was shocked at
these revelations would be an understatement of monumental proportions. Stunned.
Embarrassed. Angry. But she realized there
really was no moral option. Especially knowing what would likely happen to the boy
if she refused him a home.
Above all else, Lady Willoughby has a kind
and generous heart.
Being only five years old, Anthony has
no knowledge of his history, other than his mother died and Samuel Pryor was his
uncle. In spite of living with the likes of Mr. Pryor, the child has been taught
good manners and received the beginnings of a proper education by Ms. Meriweather.
With dark brown curly hair and brown eyes,
he’s a fine lad who, as yet, has no obvious physical resemblance to Lord Willoughby
- whose indiscretion is never mentioned. To all appearances, Anthony was adopted
by Lady Willoughby after being approached by Joyce Meriweather. Not wishing to be
the subject of local gossip, the actual details of his heritage remain known only
to Lady Willoughby and myself.
Lord Willoughby’s chambers were redone to
accommodate the Nanny and the child, and a tutor was also taken on.
Life continues at the Manor, with the child’s
laughter echoing throughout. The Staff is delighted with young Anthony in the family.
Perhaps, if one believes in such things, this
was divine intervention? Since Lady Willoughby loved children so much but was unable
to bear any, this could be considered a blessing.
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