Mrs Bennet and the Body in the Library

By Susannah Donim

Chapter Eleven – The Body in the Library

Just as Mike was getting used to playing a Regency matron during the day, and a middle-aged actress at night, disaster strikes.

I liked Sam, I always had, but I couldn’t see how her being in my bedroom with both of us in sexy nighties could possibly be a good idea.

“What can I do for you, Sam?” I asked, warily.

I spoke in my ‘Mike’ voice as there was no one nearby who didn’t know my secret.

“I just came to see if you were all right,” she said, pushing past me.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Well, this must be the first night you’re spent without Holly for ages…”

“We’re not joined at the hip, you know,” I said.

“You could have fooled me,” she laughed. “I wanted to see if you could make your own decisions without her.”

Rude! She seemed to think I was hen-pecked or something.

“Of course, I can,” I protested. “It’s just that most of the time we want the same thing.”

“Rubbish! Amy and I were with you all morning on that day when she bought you your new clothes. It was obvious you didn’t want to be there, trying on dresses. She bullies you! She thinks dressing you as a woman is funny. She’s laughing at you.”

“No, she isn’t! I just…”

“So I thought, if you need someone to tell you what to do, I could substitute while she’s away.”

She started untying the little ribbon that held the top of her nightie closed. Her breasts were suddenly on full view. I noted they were a different shape from Holly’s but just as attractive.

“That’s really not a good idea…”

“Also, I’m fascinated by all that padding you’re wearing.”

“What?” The sudden change of subject was disconcerting.

“How does it work?”

She reached for the hem of my nightie and pulled it up. I tried to pull it down again but she was stronger than she looked. I couldn’t have stopped her without risking tearing the flimsy material. The next thing I knew, she’d whipped it off over my head and I was standing there in just my panties and slippers.

“What’s the matter?” she said. “There’s no need to be shy. Your real private parts are still totally hidden, aren’t they? I’m just curious to see how your transformation works.”

She started prodding me in my fake bosom. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t feel anything of course, and anyway I couldn’t stop her without using my masculine strength, and I didn’t want to hurt her. I’d heard it was possible for a woman to rape a man, but I had never imagined anything like this. She had moved on to my hips and buttocks now, stroking and poking.

“This pseudo-flesh is fantastic,” she said. “It’s just like the real thing! But these are just in the way now.”

She grabbed my Granny panties by the waistband and pulled them down. As the knickers hit the floor around my ankles, she gasped.

“Wow! That’s really amazing!” She knelt down to get a closer look at my, that is, Michelle’s groin. “Oh, I see! There’s a little zip down there. It’s almost invisible. You wouldn’t see it if you weren’t looking for it. Presumably your thingies are tucked up there? I thought it must be something like that, with the noises I’ve heard coming from this room at night. Holly’s a bit of a moaner, isn’t she?”

She reached up…

“OK, that’s enough,” I said, and stepped back. I reached for my knickers and pulled them up. Then I grabbed the nightie and put it back on.

“Spoilsport!” she said. “I was only trying to see if Mike was still there and… capable. What’s the matter? Don’t you think I’m attractive?”

Honesty was the best policy. Well, sometimes.

“That’s the problem,” I said. “You’re very attractive, but you know Holly and I are committed.”

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“Sorry,” I said, and I really was a little bit sorry. Sam was very attractive, but in a completely different way from Holly. “I’d know and I couldn’t live with it. I can’t do this. You need to go.”

She stood up. She pulled her nightie closed and fastened the bow to conceal her bosom again.

“Pity,” she said, “but I suppose I can respect your loyalty. I’d certainly want that if you and I were a couple. Such a shame I didn’t meet you before Holly did. Still, you should know that if anything happens to her, I’m available.”

She made her way to the door.

“Wait! What do you mean ‘if anything happens to Holly’?”

But she didn’t answer. The door closed behind her.

* * *

Holly returned early on Monday evening as promised. Her father was on the mend and her mother was over the shock. So we prepared for another week of life as the Bennets. It was early August and we were now two-thirds of the way through our summer in the 19th Century. My bank balance was looking much healthier.

We were nearly sold out for the rest of our time here. Dennis had broached the possibility of extending the run for another fortnight. Holly was against it, as she wanted a proper summer holiday somewhere foreign. I was in two minds. I was used to being Mrs Bennet now and I was afraid I would actually miss being her.

Dennis had trained up an assistant to manage the Experience while he took a week’s holiday. He asked us all to be ready to make a decision regarding an extension by the time he came back. If enough of us were happy to continue, he would talk to the Countess.

* * *

On the Wednesday afternoon of that week I was in the parlour entertaining my visitors to afternoon tea. The clock on the mantelpiece struck four. The day was nearly over. Thank heavens, I could soon get out of this damned corset. Amy brought in another plate of cakes.

I was explaining the iniquity of the entail system to our guests, and how with five unmarried daughters I would be thrown out into the street when Mr Bennet died and his loathsome cousin, Mr Collins, inherited. At least two of our visitors didn’t understand how that could happen but I couldn’t explain any more clearly without breaking character. According to Miss Austen my father had been an attorney but as Mrs Bennet I had little knowledge of the law.

Holly and Hilary went past the south window with their little group. They would have been walking the grounds, pointing out features of interest, and talking about how young ladies like themselves passed their time while waiting to be married, out here in rural Hertfordshire in the early nineteenth century. Derek and Rob were due to arrive on horseback for their fourth and last visit of the session. They would talk about how rich young men found themselves wives these days.

I could hear Linda playing the piano in the music room for Sam and Douglas to show their little group some of the dances of the day. Tom was in the study of course, showing Mr Bennet’s books to the visitors, and attempting to explain to any of them who might be interested (not many) the business of running an estate like Longbourn.

So it was probably at about five past four that Diane burst in.

“Mama!” she cried. “There’s a body in the library!”

I blinked. This was a new scenario. Had the others made this up just to see if I had the improv skills to respond in character?

“Foolish girl!” I admonished her. “You know better than to interrupt when I am entertaining guests…”

“I’m serious, Mike,” she interrupted. “There’s been an, uh, accident… You need to come.”

The moment she broke character and abandoned Regency period speech, I knew something had happened. Our instructions were clear. If anything went wrong, if the twenty-first century intruded on our little world, we should still try and maintain the illusion until it was no longer possible. In particular, it was sometimes a challenge to ignore low-flying aircraft circling on their approach to Heathrow…

It was especially egregious to use our real names. I hoped none of our guests had noticed she had called me ‘Mike’, or if they had, that they thought it might be short for ‘Michelle’. We really didn’t want paying visitors to know that the role of Mrs Bennet was being played by a man.

I tutted – in character, of course. “Excuse us for a moment, everyone,” I said. “I shall return momentarily. Hill, pour our guests some more tea.”

Amy was clearly rattled by Diane’s intrusion, but she moved to comply. Gathering my voluminous skirts, I rose and moved quickly but in the most feminine manner I could manage, to intercept the frantic Diane and escort her from the room.

“Really, girl,” I scolded her, “I don’t know how my nerves will cope with all your foolishness.”

Once the parlour door was safely closed behind us I followed my pretend daughter through the hall to the library.

“One of the visitors was asking about the local militia,” Diane explained, “and I remembered seeing a book on military encampments…”

She trailed off. We stared at the body on the floor. It wasn’t one of our little troop. It was a guest, female, and wearing a pretty green morning gown of the period. She was lying on her back, her lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. I approached her more closely to see if there was anything that could be done, but the dagger protruding from her chest made that unlikely. I put the back of my hand close to her lips for a few seconds. She certainly wasn’t breathing.

I resisted the temptation to touch the corpse. I pushed Diane back and closed the library door. I reached into my reticule and took out my mobile phone. Surely, this constituted an emergency. I switched it on and started thinking about how I would explain to the police that my estranged stepsister, whom I hadn’t seen for nearly two years, had been murdered while I was serving tea next door. And in drag. The things one has to do to get an Equity Card! Beats busking, I suppose.

My first call was to Mary Manners. She was her usual calm, capable self. She told us to close off the library and make sure no one – cast or visitors – went anywhere near the deceased. She would call the police and inform the Countess. She thought they would need to close the main gates and prevent anyone from entering or leaving. The police would want to talk to everyone who had been within the grounds of the Hadleigh Estate today. She suggested that we try and carry on as normal until the police arrived.

At that moment Sam and Douglas burst in. Diane must have told them something. I moved to stop them approaching. Douglas tried to push past me. I grabbed his arm and restrained him as forcibly as my ridiculous figure, corset, petticoat and skirts permitted. Behind me, I heard Sam gasp when she saw the body.

“It’s a crime scene, Douglas!” I said. “Stay away from her!”

“My God, it’s Hannah!” he said, peering over my shoulder.

“You know her?”

“I lived with her last summer in London.” He saw the look on my face. “That is, I lived in her flat. We weren’t lovers; well, not very often.”

“You’d better stick around,” said Diane. “The police will definitely want to talk to you.”

“Bugger that,” he said. “I’m off!”

He easily broke my hold on his arm and ran off in the direction of the back stairs.

“Miss Manners said we should go back to what we were doing until the police arrive,” I said to Sam and Diane.

“Seriously?” said Diane. “With a corpse in the room next door?”

“Yes, we don’t want a mad panic with the paying customers all trying to leave at once. The police will want statements, names and addresses – you know the drill. You’ve seen police TV shows.”

“I’m not sure I can… carry on,” said Diane, with a little whimper.

“Why don’t you come with me and help with the dancing,” suggested Sam to her, “now that my Mr Wickham has absconded? And you’ll want to get back to your tea party, won’t you, Mama?”

I should have guessed that of all our little community, Sam would be the most likely to retain her composure when confronted with a dead body.

There was a key in the lock of the library door. As far as I knew it had never been used. I took it and shooed Sam and Diane out of the room. I locked the library door from the outside and dropped the key in my reticule.

* * *

With the knowledge of the grisly scene in the library, drinking tea, eating scones, and chatting with our visitors was utterly surreal, especially in the guise of Mrs Bennet. We knew nothing of it at the time but during the next hour the police were busy. The call had come from the Countess of Hadleigh herself so the cops turned out in force, which was just as well as it took a sizeable team to close off the Estate, round up all the visitors who were anywhere other than in Hadleigh House itself, and collect all the required information from them.

We saw nothing of this from the dining room and it was nearly quarter past five before we were interrupted by a tall thin man in a brown mac and a nondescript woman in an anorak and jeans.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt your afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” the man said. “I’m Inspector Giddings and this is Sergeant Sharpe. We’re police officers.” There was a stunned silence. “I’m afraid there has been an incident and I will have to ask all the visitors to leave now. Also, we will need your contact details as you go. Sergeant Sharpe will take you next door for that purpose. Transport will be provided to take you back to the Hall for you to change and retrieve your belongings.”

When the sergeant had led the guests out, that left Diane, Sam, Amy and myself.

“I understand that all of you are aware of what has happened?” We all nodded. “Would you be Mrs Bradshaw, madam?” Giddings said to me. I nodded. “And you found the body?”

“Er, no, Inspector,” I said. “Diane, here, found the body. She fetched me and I called Miss Manners.”

“In that case, would the two of you please show me to the deceased? And would you other ladies wait for us here, please?”

I led the way to the library and took the key out of my reticule.

“You locked the door?” Giddings asked.

“Yes, Inspector.”

I put the key in the lock and opened the door, but the inspector made no move to enter yet.

“Has anyone else been in here?”

“Just Sam and Douglas,” I said. “They came in when they heard something was going on.”

“I told them, I’m afraid,” Diane said. “They were just coming along the passage from the room where we do the dancing. They realised something was up when they saw my face.”

“And where are they now?” the inspector asked.

“Sam is one of the ladies we left in the drawing room,” I said.

“And Douglas?”

Diane and I looked at each other, but there was no point in withholding information that the police were bound to find out eventually.

“He knew who she was,” said Diane, pointing at my stepsister’s body, “and he scarpered.”

The inspector took out his police radio and pressed a button. It crackled.

“All units,” he said. “We may have a runner. Name’s Douglas…” He raised an eyebrow in our direction.

“Miller,” I said.

“…Miller. He may still be dressed in old-fashioned clothes. Description to follow…”

He raised his eyebrow again. Neither of us was particularly good at describing people and Douglas wasn’t especially striking in any way. We did our best. The inspector sighed and relayed our pathetic efforts to his unseen minions.

“Early twenties, about five foot eleven, brown hair, last seen wearing Regency dress, but may have changed to T-shirt and jeans.”

He switched off the radio and turned back to us.

“He won’t be able to leave the grounds. Now let’s have a look at the deceased. Stay outside the room, please.”

He took a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and put them on. While he was doing that, he squatted in the doorway and examined the hardwood floor carefully.

“I don’t think this room has been swept recently,” he said, over his shoulder. “There may still be useful footprints. I will have to ask all four of you who came in here to let us have your shoes, so that we can eliminate yours.”

He sat down on the floor where he was and pulled a pair of paper shoe covers from another pocket. He put those on over his brown brogues before advancing carefully into the room. He bent over Hannah’s body, being careful not to touch anything. Eventually he reached inside her little reticule, which was lying beside her, its cord still wrapped around her shoulder.

He turned to us. “Can you tell me what this is?” he asked.

He was waving a small black key with a number marked on it. It was familiar.

“It’s a locker key,” I said. “Guests change into 19th Century clothes up at the Hall. They leave their street clothes and valuables in lockers up there.”

“Excellent,” he said with a smile of triumph. “We should be able to identify her from her belongings. Let’s go back to the drawing room.”

When we got there Sergeant Sharpe was ushering in the rest of our team. I noticed that Mary Manners was sitting at the back. She was once again dressed as a 19th Century lady’s maid, which was hardly necessary now. I supposed Holly was right; she must like dressing as a maid. Weird!

Holly pushed her way through to sit beside me. When everyone was settled, the inspector cleared his throat and introduced himself again.

“Some of you are already aware of what has happened here today,” he began. “For those who aren’t, a dead body was found in the library here at Hadleigh House, and we have good reason to believe foul play was involved. For that reason, the room will remain locked until our forensic team has examined the scene in detail. I need hardly say that The Pride and Prejudice Experience will remain closed until further notice. Also, and I apologise for this, but I must insist that all of you remain here in the House until I say you can go. That will only happen when we have had the chance to interview you all.”

What he wasn’t saying, but what should have been obvious to everyone, was that we were all murder suspects.

“Where’s Douglas?” said Holly suddenly.

“Ah, yes,” said Giddings. “Mr Miller seems to have left the building. My team are looking for him as we speak.”

“He knew the woman!” blurted Diane. “He called her ‘Hannah’.”

I felt Holly’s hand grip mine tightly.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Simms,” interrupted the inspector testily.

He clearly wanted to control the flow of information. I wondered if he had noticed Holly’s reaction to hearing Hannah’s name. Surely she wouldn’t think I had killed her?

“Now to help my sergeant get all your names right, would you please introduce yourselves round the table and tell us what you were doing this afternoon, say between two and four? We will need to interview each of you separately later and we’ll collect further details then.”

That would be standard procedure. They had to prevent guilty parties from colluding over alibis – assuming it wasn’t already too late for that. Desperate to defer betraying my true sex for as long as possible, I volunteered to organise some refreshments for the officers while the others introduced themselves.

When it was her turn Holly explained that she had been mostly escorting visitors around the grounds with Hilary, who played her elder sister, Jane.

“And Mrs Bradshaw?” asked the inspector finally, indicating me. “I assume you’re not a student, madam?”

I drew a deep breath, preparing to come clean, but Holly was there before me.

“She’s my aunt in real life,” she said. “We’re from an acting family.” She smiled. “She’s a mature student and a housewife. Oh, and you were here in the dining room all afternoon, weren’t you, Auntie?”

That much was certainly true. I nodded dumbly. I was shell-shocked. My idiot girlfriend had just lied to the police during a murder investigation! I looked around the room. All the people who knew my real identity were looking a little surprised but no one said anything. We had so much got into the habit of concealing my true sex, it must have been a reflex response.

I couldn’t think what to do. If I had been capable of a little rational thought, I would have laughed and corrected her. But all I could think of was that as far as Holly and I knew, I was the person at Hadleigh House with by far the strongest connection to the victim, so I was bound to be a suspect. So I said nothing.

That was stupid. Now when I had to own up, as eventually I certainly would, I could be charged with wasting police time. Perhaps they would be lenient. After all, I knew I was innocent. If I revealed who I really was I would become a major part of the investigation – a ‘person of interest’ – and that really would be wasting police time.

On the other hand, if I kept up the impersonation, I might be able to work out who killed Hannah. I couldn’t do that from a police cell.

I returned to the table with cups of tea for the inspector and sergeant.

“Thank you for that,” the inspector concluded. “Now I need you all to remain in this room while my officers search the building. We’ll let you know when you can return to your rooms.”

Wonderful! Now I was going to be stuck in this damn corset for another hour or more. If you had told me a month ago that I would ever be desperate to put on my Perfect Silhouette Everyday Eighteen-hour Underwire Bra, I wouldn’t have believed you.

I tried to think whether the police would find anything revealing, embarrassing or incriminating amongst my belongings upstairs. I didn’t think I had brought any men’s clothing with me. What would be the point? I couldn’t wear anything of Mike’s until Transformations removed my prosthetics, so all his clothes were back at home. They’d find condoms of course, but that only said that Mrs Michelle Bradshaw had an active sex life with somebody, presumably a man. Holly and I always pushed the two camp beds apart in the morning, precisely in case someone went snooping in our bedroom when we were out.

What would the police be looking for?

Next: Mrs Bennet Investigates