Guy Fawkes at Blythe Hall ( VILLAGE TALES EP. 19 )

A predecessor of the current Lady Blythe makes a discovery that she cannot allow to become public knowledge. Only now after many years can the events leading up to the annual Guy Fawkes celebration, and the disappearance of Creak, the butler, be shockingly revealed.

Preparations were under way for Blythe Hall’s annual celebration of the gunpowder plot. It was thoughtful of Guy Fawkes to stage his event at that time of the year when there was always a surfeit of combustable material. The stack always grew alarmingly and the villagers would have been in high spirits looking forward to that evening when it would be set alight. Standing the height of a small cottage the bonfire would have been a splendid sight. Like the haystacks at the time it would have been covered with oil cloths to keep it dry. 

Nearly a century would pass before the events of that morning would come to light.

It all started when Creak the Butler, a faithful old retainer was absent from his morning duties. Lord Melanie Constance Blythe, known as Mel for obvious reasons, eventually found him in his cell dead to the world clutching a much handled birth certificate. Lady Augusta Elizabeth Bennet a predecessor of the current Lady Blythe, had arrived just in time to see her husband clutching his chest and sinking to the floor and to relieve him of the certificate which it appeared was the cause of his attack. She read the certificate with horror, it was hers, revealing her humble origins, Reginald Forthright, a butler, and Augusta Elizabeth Bennet, scullery maid. Standing in that small room with her dead husband at her feet, and her dead father on the bed her humble origin had been shockingly revealed. But now her father was dead, so was her secret, which was no compensation for the loss of a father and a husband. Actually it was quite a lot of compensation. If ever it was discovered that Creak had been her real father, the family, a bunch of despicable vindictive snobs if ever there were, would annul her marriage, she would become destitute probably having to resort to prostitution, which the cynic may observe wasn’t far from the nature of her marriage anyway. 

Her husband’s death was ultimately of natural causes and therefore not unlawful, Creak’s demise on the other hand, was less straightforward. Any investigation into his death, although natural would almost certainly reveal his true identity, and therefore hers, and that could not be countenanced. 

Her ladyship locked Creak’s cell arranged for a cart to be made available then gave the servants specific instructions ensuring that they would have duties below stairs and none would be in the house until much later in the day. 

Her ladyship returned to Creak’s cell with a large kitchen knife and a bottle of pigs blood that the cook was saving to make black pudding. Ensuring the coast was clear as well as the grounds beneath Creak’s window, she tipped his body out so it fell into the appropriately positioned cart. An adequate amount of straw from the stables ensured a soft, quiet landing. Her ladyship then rifled through creak’s possessions putting anything incriminating to one side for disposal. She also removed some items of clothing and a pair of shoes. Before leaving the room she had one thing left to do. Those of a nervous disposition should now avert their attention. She plunged the knife into her dead husband’s chest, please remember he was already dead, then liberally doused the surrounding area with the pig’s blood. Two important things remained, to inform the police and to dispose of Creak’s body. The telephone system was not only unreliable but privacy was not guaranteed, so Augusta summoned Milly, the below-stairs maid, to go to the village police station personally, to arrange ‘an immediate visit of a critical nature’. This would also give her ladyship more time. Whilst Milly left by the front of the house, at the rear her ladyship was moving the cart with Creak’s body concealed beneath the straw and oil cloths, the sort regularly used to protect the haystacks from the rain.

Well before the villagers started arriving for the evening’s celebration, an inspector called. Not wishing to inconvenience the proceedings, and not at all at ease in the company of her grieving ‘Ladyship’, the inspector’s examination of the crime-scene had been at most, cursory after which his lordship’s body had been removed with alacrity to the local funereal establishment where it would wait to be buried in the family plot. If in fact a dead body can ‘wait’. 

Her ladyship although in mourning demanded that, 

‘Nothing should interrupt the village festivities, it would be what my late husband would desire.’ 

She also ordered that no more wood be added as it was quite large enough and any more might risk damage to the house and the surrounding farmsteads.

The evening was overcast but dry. The villagers began arriving soon after nightfall and were welcomed with mulled wine for the adults, and a warm blackcurrant or ginger beer for the children. Tradition demanded an order to the evening’s events, the first of which was the lighting of the bonfire by the children of the village. Each stood with their lighted torch held aloft before a faggot of straw stuffed into the base of the stack. The cloths were ceremoniously removed one by one revealing a splendidly life-like Guy Fawkes sporting a dark suit, a bowler hat and an elaborate moustache. There was much humour, jollity and delight at the spectacle. No sooner had it been revealed than the straw faggots were lit and the unfortunate figure was consumed in a rage of flames and smoke. The party had started. Three musicians played the tunes that were expected of them, chestnuts were roasted, potatoes were baked, children played, men drank cider, women gossiped and her ladyship looked on. As the bonfire settled down to a red hot roasting heap, the mummers began their entertainment. Then as the dragon was overcome by St. George, the fireworks flew, crackled and spun to the cheers and ‘oooh’s’ of everyone young and old, including her ladyship.

Two days after the bonfire the inspector returned. He reported that it was obvious to him that after some acrimonious exchange, Mr. Creak had become mentally unstable and had murdered his lordship in a fit of peek. 

‘In my experience,’ the inspector continued, ‘it’s not unusual for a servant, weighed down under the constraint of a life’s service to go berserk in this fashion. There is not yet a medical term for such an outburst, as usual the constabulary is in the forefront of this kind of thing, and my expertise puts me in the forefront of the constabulary. When Mr. Creak regained his composure, realising what he had done, he collected his things and made for his escape. Passing the lake en route, full of remorse he then drowned himself. Several pieces of clothing, shoes etc., identified as being his, were found adjacent to the aforesaid stretch of water. In this case it is unlikely that his body will ever be found.’ 

You may recall her ladyship removing some of Creak’s clothing and a pair of shoes, it was carried out so as to lead the inspector to this very assumption.

Having received the inspector’s report her ladyship felt no inclination to delay his leaving and escorted him to the door giving him the impression she was unable to speak for fear that the emotion might overcome her.

With that the inspector wished her ladyship good day, got into his car, and never returned.

When Lady Augusta Elizabeth Bennet Blythe died twelve years later, a small box was found in her bedside table. In it were several charred teeth, a pearl collar stud and a partly melted brass belt buckle, the kind a butler might wear. It was considered of no importance and discarded with that weeks general household rubbish.

The annual celebration of the gunpowder plot continues at Blythe hall but the guys are never quite as life-like as they once were.

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Written and read by Barkley Johnson.