“Of course, dear, you’d generally come back to the hotel between six and seven at night. Every night, including weekends. On your return, you’d go and wash before heading to the restaurant for a meal. Although several times we had meals sent to your bedroom because you were so tired. If you were downstairs, you repeatedly worked late into the evening on your laptop in the hotel’s lounge.”
“Did I have much free time?” Maggie asked innocently.
“Not that I saw, my dear,” Mrs Cambers replied.
“Did the hotel receive any invitations for me to join people’s parties or events?” Maggie inquired.
“No, Maggie, we aren’t in the habit of losing items like that,” Mrs Cambers snorted and stared at Jane.
“Thank you, Mrs Cambers, for your support of the truth. Marie Chipping, please step up. You claimed I suggested you were all country yokels, and I was going to turn the Jekyll and Hyde into a gastro pub,” Maggie said.
“Sorry, but I never mentioned that. Jane asked what I thought you would do with it, and I replied I didn’t know, but it might be a gastro pub. Those were my words, not yours, and Jane twisted them. And I never once said you thought we were country bumpkins. Jane was sternly spoken to by me for these lies,” Marie announced, glowering at Jane.
Maggie deflated but then perked up with a smile.
“So, are we all in accordance that Jane made up multiple falsehoods about me? Because several of you sitting here presently have contracts with me. So this rubbish of not supporting the community ended? No more pitchforks and burning effigies?” Maggie asked as Lucian snorted.
“Now, let’s talk about the Jekyll and Hyde itself. In her article, Jane states that Margery Cross and Lord Norton were murderers. Only one of those is true,” Maggie replied.
“Prove it!” Jane spat.
“Easily, Lord Lucian Norton, Earl of Castleton, please join us with your own proof,” Maggie called. Lucian sent her a grin as he straightened from the wall he’d been leaning against. Whispers abounded as he made his way to the stage. This was where the letters he had recently written on paper and with ink taken from his writing desk at the inn. Therefore, they were as genuinely old as he and Maggie were about to claim.
“I have here a letter from my namesake. It has fully been authenticated by several scholars and is a tragic accounting of that night. Lord Norton heard about the murders and came racing to stop the culprit. He was astonished when it revealed it was the local witch Margery Cross behind them. Lord Norton followed Margery to this inn, where they struggled, and Lord Norton freed Margery’s final victim. Margery was killed after, and Lord Norton buried her away from consecrated ground,” Lucian said as he handed out copies of the letters.
“Then why didn’t he show his face around here again!” Jane cried triumphantly.
“Because of his shame. In his era, killing a female was a grievous sin. It tormented Lord Norton that it had come to that. But it was either the child or Margery, and to allow a child to die was even worse. As you can read for yourselves, Lord Norton tortured himself that he’d been too late to save the other children. He couldn’t absolve himself that he’d killed a woman, and he believed himself unworthy,” Lucian said sadly.
“But he saved that youngster,” someone from the crowd called out.
“Yes, and I believe he did a brave, heroic thing, but in those days, he would have been announced a murderer. May even have faced the hangman himself. So Lord Norton married quietly and spent the rest of his years in his country home. He was full of shame and doubt until the day he died. Margery Cross haunted him because there’d not been another way to end her murderous streak. They were certainly not lovers, as Jane convinced everyone,” Lucian explained. People were reading the letters, and Maggie saw several wiping their eyes. Oh, Lucian was good. There was deep emotion in that letter.
“These are lies!” Jane screamed.
“And now you, Jane, why do you hide behind the name Allison when your real name is Cross? You are the descendent of Margery Cross’s bastard daughter,” Maggie dropped the bomb and waited. Slowly, heads turned towards Jane as people understood what she’d done. Victimised an innocent person, lied, printed slander, bullied people, twisted their words and for what? To bury her own dubious roots?
“How dare you pry into my life?” Jane seethed.
“Ah, I see. You can attempt to destroy mine with lies and falsehoods, but God forbid that someone speaks the truth about your own bloodline. What makes little sense is why withhold it? It’s not exactly your fault who your ancestors are,” Maggie shot back. The audience’s heads were snapping back and forth like a tennis match.
“You weren’t meant to buy it. I was! That was my ancestor haunting it; she’d have made sure I got it cheap!” Jane yelled, and silence totally fell.
“And there it is. You wanted to buy the inn and probably made a poor offer. Whereas I came in at the full asking price. So you slandered me so I’d flee, and you could purchase the Jekyll and Hyde cheap,” Maggie said, sighing.
“He murdered Margery. She was a Wiccan and innocent. It was all Norton’s fault the children died. She never killed them,” Jane spat.
“And now you’re delusional!” Lucian exclaimed.
“You can keep laughing, but when Margery returns, the truth will come out. And I’ll stand by her side and share her power!” Jane roared.
Maggie and Lucian swapped glances.
“You need to see a professional,” Lucian said calmly.
Jane shrieked and darted across the stage at them, and Lucian stepped in front of Maggie and held her at arm’s length. Police officers jumped up, cuffed Jane, and carted her away, screaming and shouting. Maggie and Lucian exchanged glances, and Lucian offered a discreet nod for Maggie to carry on with their plan.
“I’m quite unsure how to finish apart from this,” Maggie said demurely to the crowd. Wide eyes met her gaze. “Addressing the rumours of the Jekyll and Hyde supposedly being haunted. Yes, it is, but not my Lord Norton or Margery Cross. The inn is haunted by a woman, Katherine, who was killed there in an accident centuries ago. We’ve found documents describing how a maid fell down the stairs and broke her neck sometime in the sixteenth century.