The Butler Didn't Do It - Maria Lima [5]
“Gerald,” I started walking toward him. My only thought was to get him to a doctor, and soon. He’d really flipped. A low keening sound came out of his throat as he stared past me toward the chapel door we’d just come in.
My legs gave out when I heard a low, yet, cheerful voice behind me, and I fell into the front pew with a thud.
“Darling, child, it’s all true, you know.”
I didn’t want to look at the source of those words. I knew it was Clara’s voice. Clara -– the same person that had been lying dead on that bier just a few hours ago.
She continued speaking, a definite hint of amusement in her tone, “I’m afraid Gerald discovered our little secret.”
“You see,” said Clara, sitting down in the pew behind me. “I found out a few months ago that I had a fatal blood disorder. That’s when Jamison did what he’s always done. Take care of me and of Chalfont. After all, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to stay at Chalfont and enjoy my life. Besides, who would take care of Mrs. Cooper, and young Dina?”
I turned, half afraid to look directly at her. Gerald was making incoherent moaning sounds behind me. This could not be happening. Part of me wanted to believe her, the other part wondered if I’d fallen into some bizarre nightmarish plot from one of my own novels. I avoided the cliché of pinching myself –- I definitely knew I was awake.
Still dressed in the incongruous white nightie, my aunt looked healthier than she had any right to be, a self-satisfied smile on her face. She grinned and showed off some rather pointed incisors, and then reached over and patted my hand. Her skin felt cool, as if she’d been out in the night air. Come to think of it, she probably had.
I pulled back my hand. I wasn’t sure about any of this.
“Clara,” I said, finding that I could still speak. “You can’t mean what I think do.”
Clara laughed; a delighted sound that bounced around the echoing chapel walls. She motioned for Jamison to come closer. He’d been standing in the shadows behind her.
“Yes, dearest, it is true, although hard to believe. Jamison only told me when he realized I was dying. He gallantly offered and I accepted.” She turned to him and smiled.
Jamison bowed slightly and said in his best butler’s voice, “Anything for Miss Clara.”
My aunt reached over and patted my hand again, continuing her story. “So I rewrote my will. I figured I’d falsify my death at some point and then come back as a distant cousin or something when it was necessary to keep up appearances.”
She looked at her undead butler and smiled. “I set up the trust with Jamison’s great-great-grandson. He’s my solicitor as it turns out. Young Jamey will administer the trust and Jamison will run the house. When it’s necessary, he’ll “retire”, and then his “cousin” will come into service here. It’s perfect! You do realize that he’s been here for a very long time?” She looked concerned, as if she wanted to be sure I fully understood.
I managed a sickly smile. I’d always heard of the four generations of Jamison men. Could she be implying that it was this Jamison all along?
Her smile grew wider into a Cheshire Cat grin as she saw the comprehension in my eyes. Now I could really see the sharp points of her new teeth gleaming. I was beginning to believe her. She’d never looked like that before. She was positively glowing.
“But why the bier,” I stammered, finally accepting that Clara was serious. “Why the whole death thing? Couldn’t you have just kept on for a while?”
At this, Gerald broke into loud sobs and fell into a crumpling heap on the floor.
Clara frowned at the sight of my cousin weeping like a toddler. “It was Gerald’s fault,” she replied. “We weren’t going to set up my death for at least twenty more years, but your cousin forced the issue. He wasn’t supposed to have been here last weekend.