Page 96 of Murder Most Haunted
‘Why would it be disguised?’ Bridie queried, frowning.
‘To keep up the illusion of there being no door, thus keeping the servants’ very presence hidden.’ She paused, another thoughtoccurring, then added, ‘And, on the contrary, I can think of one reason in particular that Charles Atherton would like discreet access to the servants’ corridors, and thus to their bedrooms.’
Noah immediately started tapping on the panels, while Bridie and Harold pushed aside the portraits hanging on the wall. Midge, however, wasn’t quite sure what either of them expected to find up the chimney. After twenty minutes of silent searching, finally frustrated, Harold gave up. ‘There’s nothing here. We’ve covered all of it. It’s the same as when we searched it last.’
Midge frowned, recalling the last time she had been inside the bedroom after Rendell’s death. Harold was correct, everything was exactly as they had left it. Even the clothes and newspapers on the bed. Midge glanced at the fireplace and the mantel above it. The row of books was still there, one of them still slightly misplaced.
The Bible.
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I thought it was odd for Rendell to be reading it.’ She walked over to the fireplace, touched the embossed spine of the book and pulled it towards her. There was a grating noise, which elicited a small scream from Bridie, as suddenly one section of the bookcase began to slowly slide away, the panel disappearing behind the other shelves and revealing a darkened passageway.
‘Oh, wow!’ gasped Noah, as Midge reached her hand inside and fumbled around, seeking hopefully for the smoothness of a light switch on the wall. She found one, and felt a rush of gratitude for the thoroughness of whoever had installed the modern electrics. The click of illumination disturbed several moths, and a set of dusty, wooden stairs was revealed further along the corridor.
‘Where are you going?’ cried Bridie. Midge had already taken a step inside the passageway.
‘To find a ghost!’ she replied, bracing her hand against the wall to steady herself.
Bridie had started coughing, the released dust apparently aggravating her chest. ‘You others go,’ she wheezed, sitting back on a chair. ‘I’ll wait in here.’
Midge was torn between her concern for Bridie, who looked pale and red-eyed in the light, and her curiosity.
‘Go!’ urged Bridie, managing a weak smile, waving her on.
Despite the hanging light bulb, the passage was badly lit, and so narrow that it left little room for positioning Midge’s cane.
However, when she reached the staircase, there was just enough light to reveal that the passageway had been recently used. In the middle of each step, the dust had clearly been displaced. Midge struggled with the climb in such a tight space, conscious of the others following in close proximity behind her.
Finally, she reached the top of the staircase, where she took a moment to catch her breath, ignoring the impatient questions of the others below her as much as the nagging of her throbbing knee.
The staircase opened out not into another room, but on to a narrow, windowless corridor. Given the length of the flight they had just climbed, Midge ascertained they must be somewhere within the attic of the hall. There were several doors leading off from each side of the hallway.
‘It’s the servants’ quarters,’ said Noah, stepping out from behind Midge and coughing. He had covered his mouth with his sleeve but the dust still seemed to have aggravated his eyes and nose, both of which had reddened. ‘You’re right, Midge. Charles Atherton must have had it built so that he had a way to get in and out without being seen.’
‘Easy pickings, for whenever the urge takes him,’ smirked Harold, climbing up from the last step. ‘If you know what I mean.’
Sadly, it was hard not to know what Harold meant, as he accompanied the statement with a lewd hand gesture that Midge assumed wasn’t the international sign for threading a needle.
‘Shut up,’ said Noah.
Midge shuddered, thinking of the young maid, Beth Hallow, who in all likelihood had occupied one of these very rooms, powerless against her master’s actions.
‘But what did Rendell use the stairs for?’ asked Noah, coughing.
The door to the nearest room was slightly ajar. Stepping forward, Midge winced at the creaking of the floorboards that accompanied each footfall. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’
She pushed the door open with her cane, still breathless from the climb. The door swung open as if recently oiled, throwing a shard of light from the window opposite on to the threshold.
The room was empty.
Next to her, Harold’s shoulders slumped. ‘I was half expecting to find Beth Hallow up here,’ he admitted, stepping into a room that was bare of all furniture, not even a chair. His voice echoed strangely against the peeling walls.
‘No,’ replied Midge, heading across the woodworm-riddled floorboards towards the window, where something had caught her eye. ‘There is no ghost.’
‘You don’t know that!’ protested Noah, lifting his arms up and letting them fall despondently to his sides. ‘I can feel a chill in here.’
‘That’s because there’s no insulation and no radiators, you idiot,’ said Harold.
‘I do know there is no ghost,’ Midge replied, firmly. ‘Because this is your White Lady, Noah.’
