Death Beyond Forbidding Gates

DEATH BEYOND FORBIDDING GATES BLYTHE BAKER Copyright © 2023 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. 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 About the Author * * * The long expected death of Victoria Sedgewick’s father-in-law draws Victoria back to the family’s Yorkshire estate one final time. But what should have been a simple funeral turns dangerous as Victoria finds herself the victim of a set of eerie circumstances. Although the locals talk of a ghost that haunts Sedgewick widows, Victoria suspects the true villain is all too human -- and is targeting her infant son. Reuniting with Branwell Keats, can Victoria protect her family through one last adventure that will finally reveal the truth behind the secrets that have cast a shadow for so long? * * * 1 To Mrs. Duncan Sedgewick, It is with great sorrow and regret that this letter must be sent. On the twenty-fourth of November, Mr. Erasmus Sedgewick passed away at his home, surrounded by loved ones, at approximately half past eight in the evening. This must be quite a shock, but be assured no one is more grieved than I, your brother-in-law. The past twenty-four hours have been among the worst I have ever experienced. Not only have I lost my loving mother and my adoring younger brother…but now I have lost my greatest inspiration, the most influential person in my life…my father. I regret to say that his long illness finally caught up with him. He suffered a fever that held on, would not break, and soon gave way to pale skin, perspiration, and an inability to keep down any sort of food or drink. I am aware some might raise the question of whether he was poisoned again, but I assure you, this was the natural illness he had been fighting long before that traitorous servant, Mrs. Walker, ever began her efforts to end his life. Unfortunately, I fear that her interference further weakened him, leaving him susceptible to the return of his old illness. A funeral is to be held this coming Saturday, December the first. I realize this is last minute, but as deaths typically are, I hope that you will find time in your schedule to come and pay your final respects to the man who offered you his continuous financial support after the death of your late husband, my brother. I shall look forward to your reply, which I expect you will write ahead of your departure. The funeral is to take place three days before what would have been my father’s sixty-eighth birthday. Once again, I regret that this is the sort of news I must send, but I knew you would wish to be informed as soon as possible. Kindest Regards, Mr. Hudson Sedgewick. I read and reread the last few sentences, my throat unexpectedly tight. Erasmus? Dead? It was hard to believe. I flipped the letter over and saw another note, written in the same hand, on the back side of Hudson’s message. Dear Mrs. Sedgewick, I hope you will not think me impertinent to add my own message to the end of Mr. Hudson’s, but I felt as if I needed to explain a bit further about the goings on here at the estate. While the message Mr. Hudson dictated for me to write to you was thorough and accurate, I believe in his attempt to remain brief, he left out some important information. The last few weeks of Mr. Erasmus’s life were difficult, to say the least. After your recent visit and departure, we were all quite certain the master was recovering, but within two or three days, it seemed exhaustion had taken hold. He took to his bed, and that was when he and Mr. Hudson began to quarrel a great deal. No one was ever quite sure what it was they quarreled about, as they would fall silent as soon as any servant entered the room. I must tell you that Mr. Hudson’s rages have become so extreme I fear they will soon boil over into violence. This very nearly occurred the other night when the cook prepared a roasted pheasant for his dinner as opposed to a roasted duck. Mr. Hudson threw the bird and plate at the window, shattering it. He was so utterly furious that his face turned nearly purple. His mood has only worsened since the old master died. Typically, I would attribute it to grief and think nothing of it, but this began even before the death. I do not wish to think ill of Mr. Hudson, but I fear something troubling is at work here. I do hope that when you arrive, you might find an answer to this mystery. Sincerely, Mrs. Reynolds. I chewed the inside of my lip, staring at the name on the letter. “Well…isn’t that interesting?” My heart skipped, and I looked over my shoulder, startled. Mrs. Bell stood behind my chair, her hand poised in mid-pour as she refilled my morning teacup. Her eyes, narrowed behind her spectacles, scanned the letter I held in my hand. “I beg your pardon?” I asked in mock astonishment. “Mrs. Bell, are you reading my private letters?” My housekeeper shifted her piercing gaze to me, which was very nearly enough to fix me to my chair as if I were nothing more than a naughty child. “It is interesting that you received a letter from the housekeeper of the Sedgewick estate. She took a great risk attaching her own message to the one she transcribed for Mr. Hudson.” I was not sure if I should be amused or