For the next few days Christabel went through the same charade. Feeling confident that the drug was only being administered via her drink and not in the food, she found various methods of disposing of the unwanted liquid. Luckily, there was always a jug of water on her bed side table that was unadulterated and she could drink of freely. It also became clear that this woman was just the hired help and not part of a more sinister conspiracy and she chatted freely to her for the brief time she was awake.
Christabel discovered that Edward was already contesting the will and that things did not look too good for young Mr Crawley. Her brother-in-law stopped by at the house once a day to see how the patient was fairing; but apart from that the house was empty except for the staff that had very little to do all day.
One morning she had woken late to hear Mr. Crawley’s voice in the hallway. He had called to see herm but was turned away with news that she was ill. By the time she had slipped out of bed and rushed to the window, he had gone. For the rest of the time Christabel pretended to sleep; monitoring the patterns of her unwitting jailer.
After her evening meal and once Christabel appeared to be sound asleep; the nurse would leave her bedside to sleep in the adjoining room. The woman slept well and Christabel could clearly hear her loud snoring through the wall. All night she lay awake thinking of a plan.
The next evening Christabel waited for the sound of snoring before quietly slipping from beneath the sheets and into the stillness of her room. For over a week she had been confined to bed and her legs felt unsteady and weak. She was suddenly cold and wrapped a dressing gown tightly around her before lighting a candle and cautiously opening the door. The house was quiet and nothing stirred. She had heard the clock chime eleven o’ clock sometime before, and by now the household would be asleep.
Tip-toeing down the stairs, the candle light cast long shadows over the banister and down into the hallway below. She was afraid, her heart beating fast, but she had to try and find out the truth, for the sake of Charles and Hannah if not for herself.
She had only entered Charles’ study once. It was lined with books and old prints and a large and imposing desk stood in the centre. Surely there would be something here; some clue to help her understand what was happening?
Setting down the candle, she opened one of the drawers in the desk and removed piles of paperwork. Flicking through it quickly, she noted that it was all business related and none of it seemed relevant. She opened another and another, until the contents of all the drawers had been removed. There was nothing, nothing except business papers and letters. Christabel didn’t even know what she was looking for, but thought that something might just catch her eye.
Sighing, she sat back in the chair. Her search had been fruitless. What next? Without an ally the task seemed impossible.
An object on the desk caught her eye. She hadn’t noticed it before; a carved wooden falcon looking proud and alert. It seemed to be part of the desk and she reached over to check. She expected the figure to be fixed, but as she grasped the carved head, the shape twisted in her hands, releasing the mechanism of a small drawer that opened with a sharp click.
A concealed drawer! Christabel slid the opening wider to see the contents. Inside there were a number of letters addressed to Charles, all hand delivered. She opened one of the envelopes carefully and read the contents by candlelight.
The writing was in a bold hand and the letter brief.
C. If I do not receive the money as requested by midday tomorrow you leave me no alternative. A.
She wasn’t going mad. Edward was wrong; Hannah had found out something and it had cost her life.
The letter was dated the day before Charles died. It had to be clue. She quickly read the rest; there were four letters in all, each one dated earlier than the first. It appeared that someone was trying to extort money out of Charles – but who and why? The brief letters gave no indication for a motive – the only clue in the missives was the letter ‘A’, the signature of the author. It must be the same man who had sent the letter to Mrs. Hudson, perhaps even the man that had killed poor Hannah.
The tears fell from her eyes and landed on the polished wooden surface of the table. She hadn’t yet grieved properly for her dear friend, yet crying wouldn’t help her now and she could weep later. Wiping her tears, Christabel put back the contents of the drawers, apart from the four letters. She would keep them as much needed evidence.
Once back safely in her room, Christabel decided on a plan. She needed to set a trap to catch a murderer; it would be a dangerous game but she had little, if no choice left open to her. Walking over to her dressing table, she found paper and pen and set to write a letter. She had to trust her heart; there was no other way and she prayed that she was right. If she was wrong, then she would probably end up like poor Hannah.
The next day she woke as usual to find the nurse sitting by her bed. It was the usual routine. In a moment, she would be going downstairs to fetch up her breakfast tray. Christabel would need to be quick.
As soon as the nurse had left the room, Christabel peered out of the door and waited until the woman was out of sight before venturing out. Ruth was kneeling on the bathroom floor cleaning out the tub and almost fell in as her mistress appeared at the door; it was as if she had seen a ghost.
“Oh madam, should you be out of bed? You’ve been ever so poorly!”
Christabel smiled, she could have hugged the girl. “Ruth, I’m feeling much better, but I want to surprise Edward – do would you be willing to do me a favor?”
The young girl looked troubled.
“It would be worth a sovereign?”
The girl’s eyes widened as she gazed on the coin. It was more money than she had ever seen. To Christabel it was worth a thousand times more.
“Well then madam, I’ll do what I can.”
Slipping out an envelope from her dressing gown pocket she handed the missive to the girl. “I want you to deliver this by hand. Do you think you can manage it?”
Ruth looked at the address and nodded. “I’m not sure when I can get away, madam. Are you sure you don’t want me to get a stamp and post it for you?”
Christabel shook her head, “No Ruth, you must deliver this by hand, do you understand?” The girl nodded and Christabel handed over the gold coin. “And remember, this is our secret, not a word to anyone, not even Mr Edward, do you understand Ruth?”
The girl nodded, her eyes transfixed on the coin in her hand.
She was back in bed just before the nurse arrived with her tray. Christabel sat up and looked brightly at the woman. “I’m feeling a lot better today nurse. I think I must be on the mend. Do you know if Edward will be calling today?”
The woman nodded. “He usually calls before midday and speaks with Mrs. Hudson, just to make sure the household is all right and then he asks me about how you are doing.”
“Do you think I would be able to see him today?”
The woman looked concerned. “Well, he asked me not to disturb you. Not until you are well again, but if you are feeling better then I think it would be all right. I will ask him to come up when he calls. Now drink your tea, before it goes cold.”
The morning dragged on and Christabel waited, worried that Edward would not call today, now that she had decided on a course of action. She had decided to tell Edward about the letters found in Charles desk. She hoped it would be the right decision.
Just before midday, she heard the front door open. It was a while before she heard his tread on the stairs and she sat up in bed; anxious for the interview to be over. Edward stood at the foot of the bed as she told him about her findings and showed him the letters. His eyes were bright and he looked genuinely shocked, his face at first grey and ashen, then flushing with color.
“You have done well Christabel to find these but how? When? I thought you had been lying ill in bed this last week.”
She lied to him, stating that she had been restless in the night and had gone to sit in Charles’ study, to have some time to reflect and think about her dear departed husband. How she had reached for the carved eagle and how the secret drawer had opened. Christabel pointed out that the author of the letters was ‘A’, the same as the letter that poor Hannah had seen written to Mrs. Hudson.
Edward looked thoughtful. Something definitely had to be done. He would think of the best course of action and together they would get to the bottom of the mystery. He would go to the police immediately with her findings and see what they would do.
With a promise to return later that day, he bade her goodbye and hurried out of the room. The scene was set and she had played all her cards. Now all she had to do was to wait for the murderer to step forward.