“Comes back four days later and tells us the bad news. Master Ernest and he get into a terrible fight and we never see much of him again. Master didn’t even bury her at home.”
“What do you mean? I knew she was killed, but I don’t really know the details of the crash or the funeral.”
“Heap of little kids died. Said they were orphans going on an outing to the beach or something. Master heard about it and went crazy. We wondered if it was Miss Wilhelmina but were too scared to ask.” The tears trickled down her leathery dark cheeks.
“Take your time, Primrose.”
“We all waited at home wondering if it was her. Miss Gertrude already gone, goodness knows where. Master refused to talk about her, got right cranky he did when we mentioned her name.” She sniffed and pulled out a hanky laced with lavender water, wiped it across her face. “When the master came back, he went into mourning. Said he found his daughter and had to bury her away from the house, couldn’t bring her home. Never the same again after that.”
“Didn’t that seem unusual to you?”
“Kind of. Master said she was so badly burned they couldn’t make the identification easy like and they never would have figured it out unless he gone searching for her. Made up his mind bury her off the property to save everyone the grief and that was all there was to it. And him being such an important figure, nobody had the energy to fight him over it.”
“Did he say what happened with Miss Gertrude, did anyone look for her, try and let her know what happened to her sister?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Snuck out one day early, she gone before even I got up in the morning. Nobody see her leave neither. I tried to ask the master once, but he snapped at me. Said she wasn’t his daughter no more. Sounded like he disowned her he had, said it weren’t my business.” She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Mr Ernest tried to tell him it was only fair that he go find her, tell her about her sister but there was such a fight over it.”
“Do you know why?”
“I think it might have had something to do with Miss Wilhelmina wanting to let her go down to Sydney to help with the Red Cross. Master didn’t like that, but he was no match for his eldest child when it came to arguments. They’d had a big row after she left, like Miss Wilz had somethin’ to do with it all. Her daddy not happy about it, no way. Hardly spoke to her after that. Treated her bad, if you want my opinion.”
“Hmm, I see. Anything else you can think of?”
“None of us understand why he bury her away from home. That didn’t settle well with us, not being laid to rest with her mama.”
“Did you find that unusual that he would do that?”
Primrose nodded her head. “Yes, ma’am. She should have been buried with her family in the crypt beside the lake.”
“I did notice a building in one of the photos but I wasn’t sure what it was.”
“By them rose gardens, yes.” Primrose wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, ignoring the handkerchief on her lap. “When the master died, I come here. Miss the old place I do.”
Billie reached out and touched the wrinkled hand, offering her comfort. “I asked Mr. Wilkes if he’d like to go back and have photographs taken in the gardens. Do you think you’d like to come with us, Primrose? I could pick you up tomorrow after lunch once I’ve had a good look around if you like?”
A hint of a smile touched her lips. “Maybe. Let me sleep on it.” She blew her nose, screwed up the handkerchief and glanced at Billie, the whites of her eyes rheumy with age. “One thing I’m not sure of about the business of Miss Wilhelmina being killed like that. You being clever like you is, might be able to figure it out.” Primrose licked her lips and paused as if sorting out how to put her thoughts into words. “She acted right funny the weeks up to her death, like she didn’t know who she was some days. Forgetful like. Not unusual when she had a turn or two. Been having them ever since she was a child, she had.”
“When you say turn, Primrose, can you explain to me exactly what they were like.”
The old lady stared, eyes blank while she thought. “Best I can say is she would get jittery like, her eyes would roll up, she’d kind of pass out and sometimes froth at the mouth. Scared us, I can tell you that. Her mama said she was fine and would grow out of it but her papa, well he didn’t like it at all. Called the doctors and had her hospitalized many a time. Didn’t go down well, that didn’t.”
“Why was that?”
“’Cause of them nasty things they did to her, that’s what. Shock therapy and water treatment. Didn’t make a lick of difference and when she got older, Miss Wilz refused to go. Dug her toes in she did.”
“Was this after her mother died?”
“Some of it happened before. The mistress, she not happy about it neither but she didn’t stand up to the master.” Primrose frowned. “Miss Gertrude called the doctor to her many a time, but eventually she refused to let him treat her. Poor thing got quite upset over it and for good reason. None of it worked, didn’t make her any better.”
“I understand. What else can you tell me, Primrose?”
She stared at Billie, head
