Murder by Twilight

  Murder by Twilight

  Blythe Baker

  Copyright © 2020 by Blythe Baker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Description:

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  About the Author

  When Alice Beckingham answers an urgent summons to her sister’s home in Yorkshire, she has no idea what dangers are in store for her. From the moment she crosses the threshold, she is enveloped in the same sinister shadows that seem to lie like a mist over the surrounding moorlands.

  Determined to discover who is behind an attempt on her sister’s life, Alice soon finds herself doubting everyone around her, even her most reliable allies. Without her clever cousin Rose or the protective Sherborne Sharp on hand, can Alice put together the pieces of the haunting puzzle in time to save those dearest to her?

  1

  Shivering, I pulled my coat around my ears and tucked my hands inside the deep pockets, my suitcase wedged between my feet.

  Wind whipped through the train platform, seemingly gaining speed as it went, and I felt ill-prepared. I was accustomed to a far-reached cityscape blocking the harshest winds, but Batley in West Yorkshire could not even be compared in size to London, and the wintry winds sliced through the town and my stockings. I shivered and hoped my ride would arrive soon. I was anxious to see my sister.

  Alice. Come to Yorkshire immediately. Speak to no one. The matter is urgent.

  Catherine’s telegram was tucked into my case, and I did not need to pull it out and read it to know what it said. I’d read it countless times on the ship, to the point of memorization. I couldn’t get the words out of my mind, and I could not push aside the fear that something sinister was happening at my sister’s home.

  Aunt Sarah had been disappointed to see me leave New York so soon after arriving, but she understood I needed to be there for Catherine, whatever she was going through. I packed my things and asked a member of Aunt Sarah’s staff to send a return telegram, assuring Catherine I would be there as soon as I could. I left on a ship the next day.

  Aunt Sarah’s position had helped me acquire a last-minute ticket and a private cabin where I spent most of the journey. Enduring polite conversation with the other passengers on board and sitting through stuffy dinners left me jittery and unfocused. I couldn’t pretend things were normal and as they always had been because I did not know that for certain. After losing one sibling, the fear that it could happen again gripped me. Whatever was troubling my sister, she was in distress, and I wanted to be with her as soon as I could.

  Catherine had instructed me to say nothing to anyone, but failing to tell my plans to our mother and father once I arrived back in London would have caused them alarm. So, I paid them a brief visit, staying only one night, before making an excuse for setting out on another journey.

  “You’ll make yourself ill with all this travel,” Mama had said. “Please, Alice. Stay. We will all journey together to visit Catherine and the baby in a week or two.”

  “I cannot be away from town right now,” Papa argued. He waved me on. “Do as you wish, Alice. One day, all of this travel will tire you, but right now, you are young. Enjoy it.”

  Mama was angry with Papa the rest of the evening for not forcing me to stay, but still, they both escorted me to the train station the next morning and saw me off with hugs, smiles, and a promise to kiss their new granddaughter for them.

  As I’d boarded the train, I had turned and studied the crowd for any sign of Sherborne Sharp, though I didn’t understand why I bothered. There was no way he could have known I was in town, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have come to visit me. After reading his rather revealing letter, I’d received Catherine’s telegram and forgotten to respond to him. Truly, I hadn’t thought of his letter again until the ship made port in London.

  Once I’d explained my plans to my parents and been cleared to head immediately to Yorkshire, I excused myself to rest and rushed off to my room where I scribbled out a hasty response.

  Sherborne,

  First, you’ll be pleased to know The Chess Master has been dealt with and disposed of. Just as you did not apologize for warning me to stay away from him, I will not apologize for going after him without your approval. Yes, the mission was dangerous, but it did a great deal of good for a great many people. I have no regrets.

  Second, you’ll also be pleased to know…I missed you too.

  Your friendship is important to me, and I hope I haven’t put it in danger by staying silent for several weeks. Something came up and my attention was pulled elsewhere.

  I hope to make your life more interesting again soon.

  Yours,

  Alice

  By the time my letter was likely delivered, the train had departed for Batley in Yorkshire, and I was gone on another adventure.

  I hoped I would hear from Sherborne again soon.

  I would not leave Yorkshire until I felt certain Catherine and her family were safe, but I couldn’t help but hope everything would be resolved quickly; to hope that Catherine’s letter had been more dramatic than the situation called for, and I would be on my way back to London shortly. Because although I’d assured my mother I was not weary in the slightest, so many weeks of nonstop travel, excitement, and anxiety had worn on me.

  Before I even arrived in London, my brother-in-law Charles had sent word to my parents’ home that he would pick me up at the station. Catherine would no doubt be busy at home with the baby, and as eager as I was to see her, I wouldn’t dream of asking her to bring my niece to the station just to pick me up. Though, I did wonder how much Charles knew of Catherine’s troubles. Had she informed anyone but me that something was wrong? What would he think was the reason for my visit?

  Catherine had sent me a telegram despite knowing it would take me a few weeks, at best, to get to her, so what kind of emergency could it really be if several weeks was enough time for me to respond?

  I sought to downplay the serious tone of the message, but then I remembered the way Charles and Catherine had both been waiting at the station the last time we had visited. Catherine told us they’d been there for half an hour, awaiting us eagerly. So, why was Charles not already here? Especially since the train had been delayed twenty minutes.

  Had something happened to hold him up?

  Was I too late to save my sister from whatever trouble had caused her to write?

  The thought hit me like a blow to the chest, and I took a deep breath and set my shoulders.

  No, everything would be fine. If something terrible was set to happen before my arrival, Catherine would have informed Charles or someone else who could have helped. Everything was all right.

  I clung to this thought even as minutes passed by without any sign of Charles.

  The railway station in Batley was rather large, with several lines that once connected passengers to other railway stations throughout West Yorkshire. However, those lines had ceased operation as an economy measure during the war a decade ago and were now vacant.

  Soon after settling in Y
orkshire, Catherine had written about how grateful she was for Charles’ employment. It was never something she’d considered before—nor I, given our family’s financial blessings throughout our lives—but in Yorkshire, many of the coal and textile mills had closed, leaving people without a job or wages. Though Catherine and Charles lived a comfortable life, according to the letters we’d received, many of their neighbors did not.

  I felt as though I could sense that desperation in the station. The unswept floors and the whistling of the wind through the empty platform made it feel abandoned, and I was eager to be around people again. Preferably my family.

  I sat on a bench closest to the road, watching as cars drove past the station, kicking up whirls of dirt. Finally, forty minutes after my train’s scheduled arrival time, a car pulled up to the curb, and a rumpled Charles Cresswell climbed out of the driver’s seat.

  I grabbed my case and hurried towards the car, analyzing his appearance for any sign of distress.

  He smiled as I neared him, but I could see the dark circles beneath his eyes and the new wrinkles adorning his face. He looked wan and exhausted as he walked around the car and reached out a hand for my suitcase.

  I set the case on the ground before I reached him and wrapped my arms around his middle, surprised by my relief at seeing him.

  My brother-in-law had always been a reserved man, very unlike Catherine. He was kind, but not overtly so, and he never showed any special interest in forming a close relationship with me.

  Still, the fact that he was alive and seemingly well allowed me to take my first full breath in weeks.

  Reluctantly, Charles placed one arm around me and then, slowly, another. Finally, he patted my back with his palm, and I felt him exhale, the breath rustling my hair.

  “Thank God you’ve arrived, Alice.”

  2

  Charles drove the car confidently through the small town, past the town hall with its stone pillars holding up a central pediment. It struck me as rather fanciful compared with the rest of the town. Though, it wasn’t the only thing that seemed out of place.

  Charles, too, looked strange against his rural backdrop.

  He wore the fine clothes similar to what he’d worn when I first saw him in New York City years before, yet, he did not have a driver. He’d picked me up from the train station himself and drove the car confidently as though used to doing so. When I looked closer, I could see the loose threads around his seams and the slight fading in his clothes, and I realized for the first time that Charles and Catherine may not have been as comfortable as they claimed.

  Catherine had assured us over and over again that she and Charles were unaffected by the financial troubles the rest of their neighbors faced, but I wondered how true that really was.

  “Thank you for picking me up,” I said, trying to work out how to bring up the topic of his home’s staff without being rude.

  “We let our driver go some time back,” he said plainly, looking over at me from the corner of his eyes. “I work from the house more often than not, and there aren’t many reasons for Catherine to leave home these days, so it seemed an unnecessary expense.”

  “That is sound reasoning.”

  I folded my hands in my lap, trying to warm up my chilled fingers. When we were children, Catherine had talked about how fabulously wealthy her future husband would be. While my dreams didn’t extend beyond being included in adult after supper conversation, Catherine had big plans that involved a sprawling home with manicured lawns, an important spouse who was well-respected in social circles, and beautiful gowns that would send her peers into stunned silences.

  Now, she did not even have a driver.

  I did not judge them for this, but part of me wondered what Catherine thought about it. Mama had taught us that love could cover a multitude of sins—not to mean lacking money was a sin. Only that love allowed one to see things in a different light. So, under which lighting was Catherine viewing her life now?

  We left the town proper and the road became bumpier, giving way to country roads and terrain. Charles did his best to follow the time-worn tracks, but the car still jostled horribly. My case was sliding around in the backseat until it finally fell to the floorboards and became wedged under my seat. Seeking shelter, no doubt.

  The landscape dipped and rose all around us, carpets of heather clinging to the last remnants of their purple color before the winter could strip it away fully. Some had already turned full green, still lovely in the way they contrasted with the pale-yellow wild grasses. It was nothing like the well-manicured nature I was accustomed to in the city.

  “Catherine wanted to come with me, but we all thought it would be best for her to stay home,” Charles said.

  “I understand. These roads would be hard on poor little Hazel.”

  “Yes, Hazel,” Charles said, as though the baby had been an afterthought. “That, too.”

  I frowned. “What other reason would there be? Is Catherine not well enough to manage a short ride into town?”

  Charles pressed his lips together like he’d said something he shouldn’t have, his forehead wrinkled in concern. Then, his face smoothed out, and he shook his head. “She is physically well.”

  I didn’t like the way he specified which part of her was well. If Catherine truly was fine, he would have said so. But specifying meant some part of my sister was not well at all.

  “Charles?” I turned towards him, not bothering to hide my concern. He’d looked so relieved to see me standing along the curb back at the station.

  Thank God you’ve arrived, Alice.

  Why? What was going on?

  “You know my sister sent me a telegram?” I asked.

  Charles nodded. “I oversaw it.”

  The crease between my brows deepened. “Oversaw it? What does that mean?”

  “Catherine has been…confused.” Charles turned from a wide dirt road onto another one that was much narrower. The road was smaller but easier to maneuver down because rather than a multitude of tracks, there were very obvious tire marks in the center of the road. It was their driveway.

  I’d been so excited to see my sister for so many weeks that it took me by surprise when my heart leapt in my chest.

  Nerves gripped my stomach, twisting it into a knot, and I laid a hand down the front of my blouse to try and settle myself. I should have eaten something on the train, but I wasn’t hungry, and now I realized why. My appetite had been waning over the last few weeks because I was anxious to arrive at my sister’s home and learn the full truth of her troubles. And now, with Charles behaving strangely and evasively, my fear grew.

  “Speak plainly, Charles. What is wrong with my sister?”

  Charles sat up tall, chin lifted proudly. But the posture only lasted a second before he couldn’t bear it any longer. His back slumped forward, his head hanging between his shoulder blades, heavy and dejected. My brother-in-law shook his head and sighed. “I don’t know, Alice.”

  He gripped the steering wheel, flexing his hands against the leather. “I wish I knew. I’ve tried to uncover what is ailing her, but there seems to be no explanation. It all started with the birth, really.”

  “The birth?” I gasped. “That was months ago, Charles.”

  “Really, it started even before that. While she was still pregnant.”

  My hands shook in my lap, and I folded my fingers together to still them. “What started?”

  The house came into view on the hill ahead. My previous visits to my sister’s new home had been so brief that I had never paid much attention to my surroundings, but now, as I waited for Charles to choose his words, I noticed the little details before my eyes. It was a long, two-story home with a flat front and square windows. Ivy grew up the front face, but the leaves were sparse, and the vines looked more like grey webs, slowly enveloping the house. I wondered that no groundsman had cut them down but perhaps Charles and Catherine couldn’t afford to employ anyone to tend the outside of the property. The house w
ould certainly look more approachable if the grounds were better kept.

  A fine mist obscured the top of the house, and the birch trees in the distance had lost many of their leaves. The white trunks stuck from the ground like bones.

  “Hallucinations,” Charles finally answered my question, as he pulled the car to a stop. He released the wheel slowly and turned to me, his face ashen and nearly the same dirty white color as the plaster finish on his home. “Catherine sees things no one else does, and she talks about spirits and ghosts. I don’t know what to do.”

  Of all the things I’d imagined could be wrong with my sister, not once had I imagined the trouble would be her mind.

  Catherine had always been sharp. She rarely showed it, preferring to earn adoration for her fashion sense and general beauty, but I’d always seen that a lot went on in her mind. When our cousin Rose had first come to stay with us, Catherine had been suspicious. She’d suspected things of Rose that I hadn’t seen—though I’d still been rather young at the time.

  Catherine paid close attention to those around her and saw things others didn’t, but to my knowledge, those “things” had never been spirits walking amongst us.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “She has told you she sees ghosts?”

  “Yes.” Charles’ voice broke, and he dropped his face into his hands. “I want to believe her. She is my wife, and I’ve always trusted her option, but this? This is beyond rational thought. It is beyond…our world. Catherine begs me to see things her way, but how can I, Alice?”

  I laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Charles. I wish I’d known sooner.”