Kerry Tombs - The Malvern Murders

Ravenscroft thought he detected a slight sadistic tone in the military man’s voice. The others left the room, leaving him to dress as quickly as he could. The sooner he journeyed to the well house and back, the quicker he could partake of some food.

Leaving the Tudor, he crossed over the road and walked up a flight of steps which presently bought him onto a narrow path. He turned round and could just make out the outline of the church in the dim light as he looked down on the town. A sign indicated that he was to turn upwards, and he soon found that his footsteps took him to the base of a winding path, which seemed to stretch for ever upwards into the distance.

He began to make his way slowly up the zig zag path, which appeared to increase in steepness the further he ascended. Soon he felt his chest tightening and was forced to rest on one of the wooden benches at the side until he had recovered his breath.

He continued his walk and looked upwards, and saw the morning mist still clinging to the sides of the hills, and wondered why he had not encountered anyone else on his journey. Gradually he could see the outline of what appeared to be a building of some kind ahead of him. As he drew near he realised that it was a small octagonal structure situated in a clearing, nestling between the base of two rising hills.

A lone figure seemed to be awaiting his arrival.

‘Good morning to you sir, can I be of assistance to you?’

The speaker was an old lady, who was neatly dressed, wearing a shawl and apron.

‘My name is Ravenscroft. I was told to take the waters here.’

‘Ah yes sir. I have been expecting you. You are staying at the Tudor. Doctor Mountcourt has left instructions that you are to drink three containers of the waters.’

She filled one of the beakers with liquid from the flowing spring and handed it to him.

Ravenscroft found the cold water strangely refreshing and soon drank the mixture. The old woman smiled and replenished his beaker.

Seeing a number of seats situated to one side of the well house, he made his way across to one of them. He welcomed the opportunity of being able to sit quietly and recover his composure.

Looking across to the other side of the clearing, he suddenly became aware of another’s presence. Sitting on one of the benches was a lady dressed entirely in black. He had not seen anyone at the well house when he had first arrived and could only conclude that the figure must have been inside the building at the time. She seemed familiar to him, and the more he studied the veiled lady, the more he became convinced that she was the same person who had shared his train compartment the day before. He wondered why she had visited the well house, unattended, and at such an early hour.

Not wishing to disturb her, he turned away briefly and looked down the path which he had just climbed. When he turned back again to look at the figure, he found that she had risen from her seat and had begun to move away from the well house. His first impulse was to cry out to her; his second to arise quickly from his seat and to move quickly after her, but he realised that either of these two actions might cause alarm — and so he did nothing. Instead he watched the black figure make its way slowly down the path, until she disappeared from view and was no more.

Ravenscroft now realised that he should have addressed the widow when he had first noticed her presence at the well, and reproached himself for his indecision. Perhaps another opportunity might present itself during his stay?

Suddenly realising that he was now exceedingly hungry, he quickly downed his second and third beakers of spring water, and after giving the elderly attendant a coin, began his descent towards the town.

After a meagre breakfast at the Tudor, which did little to satisfy his increasing hunger, Ravenscroft decided that he would take the opportunity of exploring the town.

Following along the road outside his hotel, he soon found himself on a terrace which overlooked Great Malvern. After walking past a large boarding house with extensive gardens, he passed the local wine cellars, the Malvern and Worcestershire Bank, the local Oddfellows Hall, and one or two shops, until he reached a large building situated on the corner of the road. A large sign stated that he had arrived at the Malvern Library and Reading Rooms. He pushed open the door and entered the building.

‘Good morning to you sir, would you like to avail yourself of our facilities?’ asked a smartly attired gentleman.

Ravenscroft said that he would, and his host led him into to a large room furnished with tables, chairs and bookcases.

‘Perhaps you would care to read the morning papers sir? We also serve coffee if you so wish?’

‘I would indeed like to read the morning papers, and a cup of your coffee would be more than acceptable.’

The gentleman bowed, and handed Ravenscroft a newspaper. Five minutes later he returned with a cup of steaming coffee on a silver tray. Ravenscroft smiled and reached out for the drink. There was evidently more to Malvern than cold baths and arduous walks.

‘You are staying at the Tudor, I believe?’ asked the librarian.

‘Yes — but how did you know that?’

‘Malvern is a very small town sir. I believe I might have caught sight of you leaving the building earlier this morning.’

‘I see.’

‘Will that be all, sir?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

The librarian gave another bow and smiled.

An hour later, feeling rested and refreshed, Ravenscroft left the Reading Rooms and made his way down the steep road towards the Priory Church. Here a guide insisted on showing him the various medieval tiles, fine windows and interesting carvings which adorned the building.

Consulting his pocket watch, Ravenscroft realised that his next treatment at the Tudor would be due within the hour, and began to make his way across the churchyard and up the steps that lead to the top part of the town. Pausing to regain his breath at the top of the flight, he looked up and saw a familiar figure entering the doorway of the Malvern and Worcestershire Bank. Clearly Mr. Jabez Pitzer had business to attend to there.

Returning to the Tudor, Ravenscroft changed into his dressing gown and lay down on his bed. After a few minutes he felt his eyes beginning to grow heavy, as his mind played over the events of the past few days. He again saw himself running along the narrow streets of Whitechapel, the black cloak billowing in the distance. Then the garment gradually seemed to turn into the black dress of the veiled lady; and the noise of a clattering train in his mind began to mingle with the sounds of running water and shallow breathing.

A sudden loud knock on the door, made him wake with a start.

‘Time for yer next treatment Mr. Ravenscroft,’ called out Stebbins from the other side of the door. Ravenscroft rose from his bed. What kind of torture was he to experience now he wondered?

He followed the ever smiling youth along the numerous corridors and flights of stairs of the Tudor, until they reached the Bath House.

‘Good afternoon sir, are we ready to continue our treatment?’

There was something about the attendant’s brisk military non-nonsense approach that Ravenscroft was beginning to dislike. He looked down at the bath of water. At least there was steam rising from it this time.

‘Now sir, you will oblige me by stepping into the bath.’

Ravenscroft complied with the request. ‘Good God man it’s boiling hot!’ he exclaimed.

‘You may find it a little warm at first sir, but your body will soon adjust itself to the heat. The temperature has been laid down exactly by Doctor Mountcourt.’

He gave the attendant a black look, and then lowered himself slowly into the waters.