Chesterfield Hall

 

Marie loved wandering through the rooms at Chesterfield, the whole place fascinated her from the beautiful drapes, now tightly closed to keep out the sun, to the smooth perfectly polished furniture, especially the little writing desk in the study with notes, maps and letters spilled out over it.

The bedrooms were perfection, with four poster beds and richly coloured heavy fabric curtains. Fireplaces were in every room and you could just picture the cosy scenes of nights reading, talking and relaxing in front of the roaring fires.

She had lost count of how many hours she had spent both within the hall and in the grounds over the years.  Beyond the formal gardens, which you could see from the drawing room had the drapes not been drawn, stood the lake with huge copper mermaid statue at its centre which, on the hour spouted jets of water high into the air from a golden fish’s mouth. When the sun caught it right you could see a rainbow of colours in the droplets as they plummeted back to the lake. So peaceful and serene.

Today as Marie entered the great hall she paused and stared up at the portraits, she did not know all the names off by heart as some went back to the 1600s when the original hall (originally called Greatfield Hall) was first built. One owner Thomas Vaughan had commissioned additions to the hall to be built in a red brick Queen Anne style completely altering its look in the early 1700s. He was a wealthy man with no family and he caused uproar building such ‘an outrageous and ugly’ exterior when all around were using the local Cotswold stone.

Of course, it wasn’t ugly, it was stylish and modern and by the time it was completed in 1706 Thomas really didn’t care a fig what others thought. He had many visitors who came to marvel at its exterior, its stunning stable block and gasp over its luxurious interior, taking tea in the grand drawing room with its views of the gardens and lake.

He sounded like a character and Marie felt warm towards him even though he glared somewhat sternly down from his oil painted portrait.

The next two portraits were of Henry Chesterfield and his wife Elizabeth. Henry had renamed the hall when he inherited it at the age of 18. Because Thomas had no immediate family and never married it went to Henry who was a second cousin.

Marie’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a tour coming through the doors of the Great Hall. She had never taken the tour but loved to observe and listen to the visitors as they questioned the knowledgeable guide and wound their way through the hall from bottom to top. Sometimes she would slip out into the garden and on other days she would stand at the back of the room and hear the now familiar stories unfold. She would never dare interrupt or put her hand up to ask a question, preferring to hang back she was by nature quite shy. It really was another world in a long-gone era where you could allow your senses to absorb everything within.

Marie decided to stay, tiptoed across the hall and secreted herself towards the back corner of the room behind crowd of eager tourists. The low level of light was perfect for hiding in the shadows and she watched as a couple of children turned, looked at her and giggled as she poked out her tongue in fun. The parents hastily shushed them with fingers pressed to their lips as the tour guide, a middle-aged lady with iron grey curls, a tweed suit and a name badge that read Janet, launched into her welcome speech.

Janet and co. soon moved on, Marie watched as she swept up the stairs to the first bedroom followed by her entourage. Before long the voices were muffled as they retreated down the long interconnecting corridors visiting all the bedrooms open to the public.

Marie went back to look at the paintings in the Great Hall. She studied Henry Chesterfield, he was handsome and sad looking. Elizabeth seemed sad also, Marie reflected. She sighed, then jumped a mile as she realised someone was behind her and was speaking to her, she turned questioningly.

‘Do you know their story? Their real story that is?’ the woman asked Marie.

Marie shook her head and frowned slightly as she scrutinised the woman speaking realising, she couldn’t place her age. She was dressed in very plain clothing, a blouse, jacket and a longer skirt. There was no real hint of personality, no jewellery and small round rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her hair wasn’t grey, but it was a light mousey almost colourless shade but difficult to tell in the low light in the house.

‘Well…’ said the woman drawing in a deep breath and pressing her hands together in a prayer like pose. ‘There’s a lot to tell…’

Marie listened wide eyed drinking in every word of this stranger, barely speaking except when an answer was required. This was something new, not the words of the tour guides with their scripted speeches which Marie could almost recite word for word, this was a story of the truth behind the formal lives of Henry and Elizabeth.

When Henry first inherited Chesterfield he cut a lonely figure, true he was indeed an eligible bachelor, but he was by nature quite shy. Many fathers brought their daughters to visit hoping that they would catch Henry’s eye but to no avail. Then one day, Elizabeth Williams came into his life in the summer of 1838 when Henry had all but given up hope of ever finding a bride. The daughter of a prominent lawyer, Elizabeth had visited purely to view the house with her father. John Williams had heard about the unusual and beautiful build that was Chesterfield and came to visit with permission from Henry of course!

Elizabeth was struck by Henry immediately; he had the loveliest brown eyes, a mop of dark hair and a mischievous smile. She couldn’t stop herself from flirting with him, glancing at him from under her eyelashes and positively staring when his back was turned.

When the penny dropped that Elizabeth was flirting with him and he thought she was a pretty girl with something a little different than all the others he had been forced to meet, Henry pursued her with a passion.  They married the following spring with the full blessing of Elizabeth’s father.

In the summer of 1839, the couple settled down to await their first child. Only that never came. Each month that passed they hoped, yearned even, but their wish was sadly not fulfilled. The staff of the hall detected a tension between Elizabeth and Henry, each blaming the other for their lack of children. The laughter and fun between the couple slowly diminished and by the December of 1840, just twenty months since their joyful marriage, their time was spent more apart than together. Henry was desperate for an heir and Elizabeth felt she had failed him but still she loved him with a passion.

One evening a week before Christmas Day, there was a knock at Elizabeth’s bedroom door. She had taken to spending time in the bedroom in preference to the awkward silence between herself and Henry these days.  

On opening the door, she found Mary the cook holding their kitchen maid Alice, who was openly sobbing, by the elbow. ‘She is going to have to leave your service!’ said Mary her face red with anger.

Elizabeth shook her head in surprise and took them both to the kitchen and sat them down. Once Mary had calmed herself, she and Alice, between sobs, relayed the story. Alice was pregnant, by all accounts the father being the young stable hand even though he denied his involvement. She was 20 but with little experience of the world.

Mary was all for dismissing Alice and the young stable boy Samuel too, claiming they were bringing shame to the Chesterfield name.  Elizabeth liked Alice, she was a good maid who had never so much as put a foot wrong before that unfortunate event and refused to do anything so hasty. She went instead to seek Henrys advice and they both agreed that perhaps Alice should stay, maybe they could look after her and appoint their doctor to oversee the birth when the time was due.

‘Maybe, a child in the house will bring some light relief’ mused Henry out loud as he watched the first snowflakes of the winter twist and turn past the window.

‘Maybe she won’t want the child?’ Elizabeth said and suddenly she and Henry connected like they hadn’t in a very long time with one meaningful glance.

It snowed solidly for two weeks after that, the drifts almost as high as the first-floor windows, it was a very white Christmas and the atmosphere in the house was markedly lighter. It turned out, once the doctor could reach Chesterfield that Alice was more pregnant than they thought, it seemed she had been hiding it for a while.

It was then that Elizabeth moved Alice upstairs with her, giving her a bedroom of her own and some of her old dresses, they were too big but with Marys help they altered them, and she looked far removed from a serving girl. Mary was very vocal in her disapproval, not to Elizabeth’s face but at night, in the servant quarters as she took a tot of whiskey she would curse loudly about ‘That damned girl and her charmed life’

A few days later Elizabeth and Henry summoned the staff and instructed them that Alice was now to be known as part of the family and if anyone asked, she was a cousin of Elizabeth’s visiting for recuperation. Mary was incensed and drank double the amount of whiskey than normal that night, declaring she would never serve Alice and would never accept her as part of the family.

Elizabeth on the other hand treated Alice like a sister more and more each day, constantly checking on her, helping Alice to improve her reading, teaching her to embroider and brushing her long hair for her every night. They were growing incredibly close. It had brought a peace to the house and a joy. For that Henry was thankful and let Elizabeth get on with it.

The household settled into a little routine and every day Alice was grateful for the way she had been accepted and looked after. She worried slightly what would happen once she gave birth, would she be expected to go back to her kitchen duties? Unbeknown to her Elizabeth had no such plans to send her back to her life of service, having Alice and the excitement of a baby coming in her life was making her very happy. Mary on the other hand, became grumpier and more revengeful by the day so Elizabeth had a word with Henry and she was let go. A new cook with no knowledge of Alice’s previous history was appointed and all was well with the world.

At 5.30am on April 27^th 1840 baby Ellen arrived. The whole household ran around fetching hot water, fresh sheets and blankets while Elizabeth mopped Alice’s brow, held her hand and uttered words of encouragement. Henry paced the floor of his study until he heard the baby’s new-born cries drift down to him. He mounted the stairs two at a time, almost sent flying by the housekeeper coming down with the dirty sheets and knocked softly at Alice’s door.

The crisp clear light of a promising day was slowly filtering into the room and an oil light flickered dimly on the bedside table. Elizabeth was seated in a chair at Alice’s bedside gently rocking Ellen who was wrapped in a blanket. Alice was fast asleep exhausted from a long and arduous labour.

Henry approached the tiny bundle and stroked her cheek leaning over his wife to do so. As he straightened back up, he kissed Elizabeth on her head, melting her heart all over again. For a moment, the pair were lost in another world, it was as if Ellen were their own.

Alice proved to be a good mother and both Elizabeth and Henry could see that the girl would not part with her baby. So, reluctantly, they accepted that Ellen would never be theirs they would just keep Alice and Ellen under their roof for as long as possible and enjoy the delight that a child would bring. That said Elizabeth was heavily involved in helping with Ellen, she would attend to her at night if Alice was tired and would take her for walks around the grounds in the beautiful pram she had purchased for her if she was being fractious.

Just a couple of months after Ellen’s birth however, the whole household was suddenly plunged into sorrow and despair.  Henry had developed a cough with blood which tragically was the beginning of consumption, he declined rapidly and spent the next month bedridden. Elizabeth tended to him faithfully until the end, he died just as the dawn broke on a beautiful summer’s morning in July. She reflected about the unfairness of it all as tears fell silently down her cheeks, clutching Alice’s hand as she also sobbed. Outside, the gardens were looking their beautiful best neat box hedges surrounded the formal garden, flowers bloomed, butterflies swooped, and birds were singing. This just made Elizabeth cry all the more.

Elizabeth set about making sure all staff and household members wore black, mirrors were covered, and drapes tightly drawn. The air of the hall was sombre and even Ellen’s cry seemed muted in respect for the loss of a father figure. She was the one shining light of hope that kept everyone going, her needs were ever present and could not be ignored.

A few weeks after Henry was laid to rest Elizabeth and Alice set about cleaning his study and the little desk that he spent hours at, writing letters and sorting out household bills and sometimes reading. Elizabeth found letters she had written to Henry when they had first met, each one full of hope of seeing each other again soon. Fresh hot tears flowed, and Alice took Ellen out of the room so Elizabeth could be alone with her memories.  Elizabeth regained her composure and continued to sort through Henry’s belongings.

As she cleared the bottom drawer she felt something loose and bent down to take a closer look. She frowned as she searched with her fingertips to see what it was, pressing on the loose bit. Suddenly a secret compartment creaked open beneath the drawer revealing a mall leatherbound journal.

Pulling it out she realised it was some kind of diary in Henry’s writing, the contents of which she was NOT prepared for! The last entry, the page marked by a scrap of torn newspaper, was dated June 4^th 1840 just a few days before Henry ended up in bed seriously ill. It read simply, ‘I cannot continue living this lie, Elizabeth deserves the truth but now I am coughing and there is fresh blood each time, I fear my time to confess is limited…’

Elizabeth sank to her knees as she turned back the pages faster and faster, her heart was beating out of her chest and her head bowed as torrents of tears flowed freely down her cheeks, her eyes so swollen she could barely see. When she finally finished as eerie calm descended over her and she went out into the corridor and screamed at the top of her lungs ‘ALICE!’

Alice didn’t appear, but the housekeeper came running. ‘Whatever is wrong Mrs Chesterfield?’ she exclaimed as she stared at Elizabeth as if she had taken leave of her senses.

‘Where IS she!!’ Exclaimed Elizabeth through clenched teeth her knuckles white where she clutched Henrys fateful and damning diary, her nails leaving marks in the leather.

More staff appeared and a quick conversation confirmed that Alice was out with Ellen walking by the lake.  Seeing Elizabeth’s angry mood and tenseness Ann the housekeeper offered to fetch Alice post haste.

Not wanting to cry in front of the staff, there had been enough of that lately, Elizabeth turned and went quickly to her room telling staff that no one was to come to her for the rest of the day. Not even Alice.  The staff scurried away relieved that whatever confrontation was afoot was saved for another day.

Even though Elizabeth knew that Alice was in the grounds she stood at Alice’s bedroom door and listened for any sign of movement in case the staff were mistaken and she had in fact returned to the house. There was no sound, so she slowly opened the door, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom where the drapes were closed. Everything was neat and tidy, Ellen’s little crib sat in the corner of the room the blankets and embroidered sheets folded back from her last nap.

Elizabeth moved to the pretty dressing table, the mirror was covered with a dust sheet and a silver brush, comb and hand mirror were lined up next to a small ornate perfume atomiser which she and Henry had bought for Alice’s last birthday.  The girl still had so few possessions she thought as she lifted the corner of the curtain to look out into the garden. She could see Alice in the distance just a small figure as she pushed the pram, her face obscured by a black lace mourning veil.

With a heavy sigh Elizabeth let the curtain go and dropped Henry’s diary on the dressing table with a soft thud then turned and left the room softly closing the door behind her.

Back in her own room she sat with her knees hugged tightly to her chest, tears continuing to flow, as she absorbed the bombshell Henry had dropped on her from beyond. Day passed into night and true to their word the staff didn’t knock and kept Alice clear.

The following morning the day was sunshine from first thing, it was warm even though it was early and Elizabeth had cleared her head and was ready to talk rationally to Alice.

Sitting at the breakfast table Elizabeth found herself staring at the empty place setting opposite, Alice was nowhere to be seen so she instructed Ann to go knock on her door to rouse her.

Ann returned, breathless from running up the stairs, Alice was nowhere to be found, her bed hadn’t been slept in and Ellen’s crib was empty and Elizabeth felt panic rising in her throat, surely she hadn’t left Chesterfield without a word to anyone?

Pushing her chair back she ordered the staff to search every inch of the house while she headed out to the gardens desperately calling for Alice.

As Elizabeth headed out of the formal gardens, the heady scent of the flowers and the buzz of the bees seemed magnified. She called Alice’s name again and then her shout turned to a scream.

Ellen’s beautiful black pram stood at the edge of the lake, the wheels coated in mud, it was obvious that Alice had been unable to push it any further into the water.  Alice was floating face down her black dress and veil billowing out around her. Elizabeth ran to the lake edge and her legs gave out from beneath her. She was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe ‘No, no, NO!’ she screamed repeatedly.

Every member of staff was racing to the scene even the stable hand and the gardener. Elizabeth was clawing her way to the lake, unable to stand and had to be restrained by Ann who held her tightly while the men waded into the lake to retrieve Alice’s body. Baby Ellen was trapped beneath Alice, her tiny body was blue from the cold water, sadly she too was dead. No one had any idea how long they had been there.

Everyone was so confused, what had occurred to make this young girl take her life and the life of her tiny child? Only Elizabeth knew and her guilt was palpable, if only she had handled this differently, she had so wanted to clear the air with Alice this morning now she would never have the chance and fresh tears stung her eyes making it impossible to see.

The following days passed in a blur, the hall was lifeless and empty with Alice and Ellen gone. Elizabeth insisted that both were laid to rest in the family vault alongside Henry and she commissioned a local stonemason to make a beautiful, detailed, cherub as a memorial to Ellen. She planted a rose bush with the sweetest fragrance to bloom beside the memorial, she could do no more for them. One final task was to burn Henry’s journal, which she did the day after the interment. The words were not for anyone else to see, it was bad enough that she herself had been exposed to them.

Ellen was Henry’s child, the result of one drunken night of folly when he and Elizabeth were barely exchanging a word, ironically over their inability to have a child of their own. Henry had taken Alice aside and promised her faithfully that he would take care of her as long as she never divulged to another soul that it was his child. He hadn’t planned for Alice to live at Chesterfield, far from it, but Mary had discovered Alice was expecting and had gone straight to Elizabeth. Henry had planned for Alice to live far away from the hall and send her a good sum of money to help her have a decent life with his child. Having Ellen under the same roof was hard, extremely hard. The guilt, the deceit and constantly worrying that someone would see a resemblance as she grew was driving Henry to distraction. The only way he could get through it was to write down his thoughts in a journal, a journal he concealed in a secret place.

Elizabeth carried Henry’s secret to the grave, never telling anyone. In the early days after they were all gone, she wished she could go too. Eventually she sought solace in books and embroidery and refurbishing Chesterfield. It was beautiful but so empty, some days as she sat at the window she thought she caught a glimpse of Alice pushing the pram in the gardens and her breath would catch in her throat. Of course, it was just her imagination.

In January 1876 Elizabeth passed away in her sleep and she was finally laid to rest next to her beloved family. She never once felt malice towards Alice or Henry, initial rage yes, but she blamed herself for being distant and detached. Having Alice and Ellen had been the best thing to ever happen to Chesterfield and every day without them was a void that would never be filled.

Marie’s eyes were shining with tears, she was silent for a long while, aware she was shivering slightly.

‘So that,’ said the woman quietly, is the true story of Elizabeth and Henry as she looked at Marie. ‘I doubt our paths will cross again but my name is Susan’ she added.

Marie looked round, even with the low light level she could see it was getting late, Janet and the visitors had long since disappeared.

‘Its time to go.’ Said Susan softly. Marie hesitated and looked at her, her face was kind, but she wasn’t ready to go. She had so many questions, but she was feeling cold, and it really was getting late.

‘It’s time to go, it really is’ said Susan sensing Marie’s reluctance, she hadn’t moved at all.

‘Alice?’ Marie looked startled as Susan addressed her with that name. ‘Alice was the name you were born with, your mother always called you Marie, didn’t she?’ continued Susan very gently.

Marie nodded. She really was so very cold now, she glanced down, her feet were bare and dripping wet she had left a trail of wet footprints across the hall. Marie knew that children saw her, but she had never met an adult that could see her until now.

‘I’m afraid. I... I can’t go!’ she whispered.

‘It really will be ok’ Susan said as she started to walk to the door ‘They are waiting for you Alice, Elizabeth, Henry and Ellen, you can be a family again’

Marie wanted to believe that more than anything and suddenly she could see a bright, bright beam of light fill the room. She felt compelled to go to it. She could barely see Susan anymore, but she heard her.

‘Go to the light Alice’

Susan watched as Marie’s silhouette faded as it was absorbed into the light for the tiniest moment, she thought she saw Elizabeth with Henry holding baby Ellen out to her and then, just like that, they were gone.

In the car park Susan clicked her car door shut and put her car keys into the ignition, she glanced up to the rear-view mirror and smoothed down a stray hair. She really needed to het her hair dyed she reflected. The ring tone of her phone snapped her back to reality.

‘Susan Holmes, Psychic medium and spiritual advisor speaking’ she smiled ‘Oh hi James, yes, all done…hold on...’  reaching round she grabbed her leather-bound diary off the back seat and a pen from the glove compartment. She crossed off Chesterfield Hall from a long  list written on the first page.

‘Can you phone the trust tomorrow and tell them the staff shouldn’t get any more sightings, the poor girl has crossed over now’ Susan said as she tapped the phone thoughtfully.

‘Oh, and I’m going to need help with Allenwood Manor, multiple entities some of them not so nice! So can you call Jerry and Mike I think they will be needed’

Call over, Susan started the engine, chuckled at the irony as Another One Bites the Dust blared out of the radio and drove down the long drive leaving Chesterfield in a cloud of gravel dust.

 

Sarah Russell 2021