It was at that moment that Sybil appeared in the doorway to find out what all the shouting was about and as she saw what was going on her hand flew to her mouth.
‘Jasper .?.?. put that gun down thisinstant,’ she commanded.
He turned briefly to glare at her and while he was distracted, his father leapt forward to grab the barrel of the gun as Sybil screamed, bringing the servants running.
Suddenly there was a resounding bang that reverberated around the room and as Jasper looked up, he saw blood explode from his father’s chest as he dropped heavily to his knees staring up at him in shock. Scarlet blood began to trickle from his mouth and he fell back as if in slow motion as the women began to scream.
Sybil raced forward and dropped to her knees, cradling her husband’s head in her lap as she cried, ‘Someone get a doctor .?.?.now!’
Dropping the smoking gun as if it had burnt him, Jasper panicked and pushing his way through the group of servants in the doorway, he fled as if the devil himself was snapping at his heels. He had no idea where he was going, he just knew he had to get as far away from there as he could. If his father died the police would be looking for him for murder and he might well end up dangling from a rope. Tears of self-pity sprang to his eyes as he raced blindly through the woods adjoining the farmhouse. There would be no chance of wooing Emmy now. From this day on he would have to be invisible, a wanted man. The prospect was terrifying. Not once did he have any sympathy for the man who had fathered him; his thoughts, as always, were all for himself.
Back at the farm chaos reigned as the servants ran about like headless chickens, the dinner forgotten. One of the grooms had ridden for the doctor who arrived almost three-quarters of an hour later after attending a difficult birth in the town, but Sybil knew by then that he needn’t have rushed. Bernard had been dead within minutes of Jasper shooting him.
‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ he said gravely as he helped her to her feet and covered Bernard’s face with a clean white handkerchief. Her skirt was soaked with blood and she was as white as the snow outside and clearly in shock. Turning to the groom who was hovering in the doorway, he instructed, ‘Ride back into town again and get the constable, would you, my good man?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The groom touched his cap and left to do as he was told as silence descended on the farmhouse. This had certainly turned out to be a Christmas that no one present would ever forget.
Chapter Forty-One
Both Emmy and her parents read about Bernard’s murder in the daily newspapers two days after his death. There had been no time for anyone to write to them to inform them what had happened and they were all deeply shocked.
‘We must get home immediately,’ Dorcas told Gerald. ‘Sybil will no doubt be in a terrible state.’
‘Of course, my dear.’ He quickly rose from his seat, hardly able to take in what they had just read. It appeared that there was a big manhunt going on for Jasper and he shuddered to think what would happen to him when they caught him, as they surely would eventually. ‘I’ll go and ask Aggie if she’ll do our packing for us,’ he told his wife gently. ‘And if we hurry, we should be able to catch the twelve o’clock train back to Trent Valley.’
They were soon ready, and once a hackney cab had been found, they stood on the steps and said a tearful goodbye to Emmy. She had wanted to go to the station with them but they had told her they preferred her to stay with Imogen, who wasn’t too well that day and had chosen to stay in bed. A short time later the cab dropped them at the station and they caught the train home.
It was dark by the time they entered the cottage that night and Hetty welcomed them with a faltering smile.
‘Have you heard what’s happened?’
Dorcas nodded as she dropped wearily into a chair. ‘Yes, we read about it in the newspapers. I still can’t take it in, though. I always knew that Jasper was spoilt but why would he want to kill his father?’
‘He was robbing the safe when his father walked in on him, apparently.’ Hetty shook her head as she filled the kettle at the sink.
‘And has there still been no sight of Jasper?’
‘No, missus. They’ve had police scouring the surrounding neighbourhood but he seems to ’ave vanished into thin air. But ’ere, let me ’elp you off wi’ your cloak while we wait for the kettle to boil.’
‘It’s all right, Hetty.’ Dorcas gently shooed her away. ‘I’m going to go and see how Sybil is first.’
Hetty sighed. ‘From what I’ve ’eard she’s in shock,’ she confided. ‘She ain’t said so much as one word since they took the master away to the chapel o’ rest, apparently. She just sits there starin’ off into space.’
‘Then I’ll go immediately.’ Dorcas stood up and Gerald joined her at the door, telling Hetty, ‘We’ll be back shortly and look forward to that cup of tea. A sandwich wouldn’t go amiss either.’
‘O’ course, sir.’
As they tramped through the deep snow to the farmhouse, Dorcas gripped Gerald’s arm. Thankfully the snow had stopped falling for the first time in days but the journey was still heavy going and by the time they arrived they were both out of breath.
A red-eyed young maid met them at the door and informed them, ‘The mistress is in the drawin’ room, ma’am. Shall I tell ’er you’re ’ere?’
‘No, it’s all right, Polly, thank you.’ Dorcas and Gerald handed the girl their coats and hats. ‘We’ll just go in to her.’
They found Sybil sitting by a roaring fire staring into the flames, but she glanced up when they entered.
‘I’m so sorry, Sybil.’ Dorcas crossed the room and, kneeling down in front of her, took Sybil’s hand. ‘We came back from Imogen’s just as soon as we heard what had happened. I can hardly believe it. Is there anything we can do?’
Sybil shook her head. ‘No, but thank you. Everything is in hand. Bernard will be buried next Monday.’
