Murder at the manor

Chapter 1: Introductions

             

The Murder at the Manor

Written by Isabella Warburton Brown

Chapter 1: Introductions

Colonel Mursberry was a large man with greying whiskers and thinning dark hair speckled with white. He wore a yellow waistcoat and his large chest and rotund belly caused the silver buttons to creak and strain with the effort of keeping it contained. He had a green handkerchief in his left hand pocket which he took out every so often to dab at his glistening forehead. He was jovial in a brisk, military way with a loud brawling laugh that encouraged an air of pleasant humor. He was the embodiment of old fashioned charm and splendid, upright congeniality.

It was late and Colonel Mursberry sat round the table at the Esterton's manor house where he went every Saturday evening to play cards. There were 8 regular guests, the first being Mrs Patterson, the round-faced, middle aged wife of the village vicar and Father Patterson, the aforementioned vicor with tired eyes but a quiet warmth and knowledgeable kindness about him. 
Also present were Lord and Lady Esterton who were the hosts of this evening's entertainment.

Lord Esterton was about 35 and he wore a black dinner jacket lined with red silk, perfectly tailored to his slim, imposing frame. He was clean shaven and his black hair was expertly arranged into  glossy swoop. He spoke with the uninterested drawl of so many young men but his upright facade was replaced with eager excitement every so often at the mention of the arts or during a particularly exciting hand.

His young wife was exceedingly pretty, with golden curls cascading down to elegant collar bones. She wore a stunning evening gown of red silk that perfectly matched the lining of her husband's jacket and she sported a dazzling necklace of glittering diamonds. In  her hand was a permanent glass of crimson wine that she swirled and sipped from throughout the evening. She listened with polite interest to the words of her neighbour, a gentle smile upon her lips.

Despite her nods and noises of assent, her eyes showed vacancy and told of the truth that her mind was elsewhere. It was, in fact, thinking of the growing secret that hid beneath her dress and how happy her husband would be when she told him of it later tonight. She took another sip of the red liquid in her glass; it wasn't really wine at all but cranberry juice was the perfect imitator which she used to deflect suspicion so that the news would be more of a wonderful surprise when it was finally divulged.

The man who's words she was failing to listen to was professor Lawrence Ambleson, a well known expert on botany. He had a nervous disposition and was short and balding with gold pince nez perched on the end of a crooked nose through which small, black eyes, strained from too much reading under covers in his youth, strained. He was currently recounting a very exciting discovery he had made on the absorbency of moss which he explained with vigor in great detail.

The final regulars were Miss Avary and Miss Winshaw, two elderly spinsters who lived together in a big house at the top of Blanche hill and had done so for the last 40 years. Miss Avary was white haired and gentle and a pink ball of wool lay upon her lap, two needles flashing in her slender hands as knitted a tiny pink jumper. 

25 years ago, she and Miss Winshaw had taken in two children called Alfie and Charlotte from a local orphanage who they raised as their own and the boy had just had a little girl a month prior. She was coming to visit with her parents next Sunday for a week. They had already a little boy of 3 who she'd already made a matching blue jumper for and was very excited to see again despite having looked after him 2 weeks ago when his parents felt overwhelmed with a new baby.

Miss Avery's companion, Miss Winshaw had a large frame and grey hair, coils of which hung around her face, falling from a now messy bun on her head; it was once neat and tightly pinned but was disarranged by the violent winds on the walk over. She wore a navy blue jumper, knitted for her by Miss Avery, a grey skirt with large pockets, one containing various biscuits and enough crumbs to make several more and one filled with random bits and bobs. In the hurry to get there on time, she had forgotten to change the muddied wellies that she had worn to walk the dog: a lively, and incredibly friendly border collie called Fred, and had embarrassingly apologised for the inappropriate footwear upon arrival. 

Lord Esterton had been good friends with Alfie and his youth and so had spent a lot of time at the house on blanch hill and saw Miss Avery and Miss Whinshaw as wonderfully, obscure aunts so he said he didn't mind at all and not to worry as he was sure she had left some slippers there when Alfie come over and they are played charades all evening. It turned out that she had, and Bodkins, the Estertons efficient Butler, had soon found them in a cupboard with various other items left by visitors over the years to return to them when they were next seen. And so Miss Winshaw now wore green fluffy slippers at the dinner party. At least they weren't putting mud everywhere and they were really very comfortable.

Anyway, Mrs Avery was talking to Mrs Patterson about how Charlotte had settled down nicely in France now that we're going to see her in 3 months time and Mrs Patterson was telling her about her own daughter who had just left for nursing school and how well her son was doing as a Clark in a law firm. Father Patterson was being consulted on these subjects every so often with questions from his wife of "What was the name of that firm again dear? Something and Robertson? Or was it Dickinson?" and "We got a lovely letter from her, didn't we, Gerald?" Which were usually met with amused affirmations or corrections as he sat back and listened to his wife's chatter with half his mind and composed the basis of a sermon with the other. 

To Miss Avery's left, Miss Winshaw and Colonel Mursberry were engrossed in an interesting discussion about agriculture and what vegetables they were currently growing in the garden and what the best method to prevent slugs was.

Lord Esterton sat silently at the head of the table, with the Colonel on one side and his wife on the other. He was looking at her and thinking how lovely she was and how lucky he was to have her. He smiled happily and began to wonder what it could be she wanted to talk about later. He had just moved on to wondering how Cook had made such a wonderful pavlova and making up mind to  ask her to do it again, when the lights went out.

My Dearest X,
Last night was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced! I still can't believe the lake froze over. I had so much fun skating in the snow, just us two. It was so good to just get away from things, if you know what I mean. I wish we could do things like that more often. I suppose it makes moments like those more special. Anyway, how are things your end? I feel like I may go crazy with missing you even though it's been only a day. I trust everything is as usual? I put a pressed daisy in with this letter as a token of my affection. I'm sorry this is so short and jumbled but it's rather late and my candle has nearly burnt out so I really must say goodnight. I long to see you again, send a reply with details of when we can meet.
All my love, E