The brampton witch murde.., p.15
The Brampton Witch Murders: A gripping 17th-century cozy historical mystery,
p.15
“The handle is hollow!” exclaimed the inquisitor. “The needle is held on a spring!”
Jacob demonstrated, pushing the point of the needle with his fingertip. Its shaft could clearly be seen to disappear into the wooden sheath of a hollowed-out handle.
“‘Ere, gimme that!” said a sceptical-sounding onlooker, swiping the witch-pricker off Jacob and repeating the trick. “‘E’s right!” the man called out. “’Tis fake! This so-called witch-finder’s no more ’n a swindler!”
Sir Edward summoned Constable Ward, who bound Simon Hopkins by the wrists, though he did not struggle or attempt to escape. Instead, he prayed.
The Senior Magistrate held him by the throat and growled at him face-to-face. “You did attempt to deceive the law of this land with fakery and chicanery, Simon Hopkins. Knowing full well it was at the expense of an innocent woman’s life. Mark my words: you shall swing for it.”
Chapter thirty-three
Post Mortem
The scene at The Bull inn was one of great jubilation. The Pepys family - John and Margaret, Samuel and Paulina - were reunited in joy, toasting the inquisitors, who had saved Paulina’s life and their family’s reputation.
Do not ask your master which one mattered to him the most, Abby thought to herself.
Celebratory mead and ale flowed, and Hatty Nettlewood laid on a feast of roasted meats served with a host of early-autumn vegetables - carrots, parsnips, pumpkin, beetroot, kale - and, naturally, bread. Jacob pulled a chunk off a loaf, put it to his lips, thought twice and returned it to the dish.
Once the meal was finished, the six of them sat around The Bull’s largest table, stomachs fit to burst, and John Pepys produced a flageolet, that they might enjoy some music.
His son raised a hand for silence. “Before we carouse, I would know more of your investigation,” he told Abby and Jacob. “Why, pray, did Anne Grimston choose to involve Paulina in her sinister schemings?”
Jacob looked towards Abby, who was seated opposite him.
“She’s incarcerated and will likely hang, so we may never know the whole truth,” Abby replied. She let that sink in, and the mood around the table deflate. “But I do have a few theories.”
Anne Grimston and Bulstrode Bennett were engaged in an affair, she explained. They had been seen by Rebecca Thacker entering the gardener’s cottage, where Jacob discovered his chest and her perfume. The scent had been given to her by the magistrate, it being his favourite. She clearly did not share his taste in perfume, given Jacob found the bottle to be full.
Bulstrode and Helen Bennett loathed one another. Yet Bulstrode was smitten with the alluring Anne, which she played on, encouraging him to change his Will to exclude his hated wife, Helen, in revenge for the years of married misery.
“Remember when we walked to Huntingdon?” Abby asked Jacob. “We bumped into Anne, who gave us only a glimpse of her legal papers. We know the magistrate was in Huntingdon that same day, and I’m certain those papers didn’t concern her husband’s legacy, as she told us, but Bulstrode’s Last Will and Testament. I’d wager the witness to the signing of those papers was a legal clerk named Owen Turner, whose loud mouth signed his death warrant.
“Anne Grimston was far cleverer and more ruthless than she presented to us.”
Samuel tapped the table impatiently. “You ignored my question. Why did this evil woman involve my sister?”
“Because she needed Goody dead, and what better ploy than witchcraft? Especially if you can browbeat your husband - the murder victim - into making the accusation. ’Tis my guess Anne wanted only Rebecca involved, knowing of your family’s reputation, but Goody’s mouth ran away with him. Anne herself protested Paulina’s innocence, after all.”
Jacob, who was taking this all in with mounting awe, spoke. “Yet she did murder her lover, the magistrate?”
Abby nodded. “Bulstrode Bennett was wasting away. His wife would confirm it, but I’d guess he had consumption. Anne Grimston was content to bide her time till he died, when the changed Will would be revealed. When Rebecca was proven innocent of witchcraft, she saw her plan unravelling and panicked. She murdered Bulstrode to hasten the reading of the Will and to increase the suspicion of Paulina’s witchery.
“She never loved Bulstrode Bennett. I doubt she loved any man, yet she could wrap them around her finger. Anne Grimston loved only wealth, which she will never have.”
“One final question, pray,” said Jacob. “What of Alice Wilkins’s chain and handkerchief? If they were not given to her by Bulstrode Bennett, then by whom?”
“Nay, I believe they were given to her by Bennett, Mr Standish,” Abby replied. “But not for love. The stablemaid was engaged in an affair with the physician, Bramwell, which they kept secret from Lord Fairfax. Did you notice she called him ‘Archie’? It was too informal and made me wonder.”
Jacob could only tip his hat in admiration.
Abby continued, “The physician, who lives opposite the gardener’s cottage, knew of Anne and Bulstrode’s affair but wisely kept it to himself, aware of the magistrate’s influence with Fairfax. He told only his lover, Alice, who then blackmailed Bennett. When Anne found out, she sent Alice a poppet.”
Jacob slapped his forehead, “When I looked inside Anne Grimston’s house, there was lavender hanging there!” he exclaimed. “Naturally, she had access to straw as the wife of a crop farmer. It was she who made the poppets. If only I had realised at the time.”
“We probably saved Alice Wilkins’s life,” Abby concluded.
The Pepys family broke into a spontaneous round of applause. Abby beamed, but noticed that Jacob looked crestfallen.
Samuel patted the big man’s arm. “What ails you, Mr Standish?”
“Sir, I cannot allow myself credit for Abigail’s masterful deductions. She is a remarkable inquisitor and I…”
Samuel Pepys stood (slightly wobbly on his feet), to address Jacob formally. “Sir, you alone saved Paulina’s life, when you showed Hopkins’s witch-pricker to be hollow.”
Jacob raised his eyebrows thoughtfully, nodded to himself, and straightened his periwig. “The needle appeared loose, sir. It was a mere trifle.”
Abby rushed around the table and pulled him to his feet.
To John she exclaimed, grinning, “Please, Mr Pepys, play your flageolet! Let us dance!”
Chapter thirty-four
To London
Jacob slept in the next morning. A force of habit roused Abby and her master before the sun had risen, though both their heads pounded.
Abby handed Pepys a letter she had written to Sir Edward Mallory, asking that he ensure its safe delivery. It read:
To the Honourable Sir Edward Mallory,
I write to you regarding Simon Hopkins, the self-appointed witch-finder.
I believe him to be an honourable man, though entrenched in his beliefs to the exclusion of all others. He truly believes his path is righteous and that demons stalk the land. If we do not share those beliefs, it does not make him evil.
His only transgression of the law has been the faked witch-pricking tool, which he employed when he was desperate. I respectfully request that you show him leniency, Your Honour.
I would wish to extend to Simon Hopkins the humanity that his father denied to mine.
Yours faithfully,
Abigail Harcourt
The Nettlewoods saw them off, remarking they had never before witnessed such excitement in Brampton and hoping for their swift return. As a parting gift, Barty gave them each one of his spare eye-patches, winking at them from under his own.
Mr Pepys had ordered a stagecoach, which awaited them outside. As the three of them settled in for the journey back to London, Jacob asked him, “Sir, what next for your inquisitors? Are we to be put out to pasture now that the Brampton witch murders are solved?”
Pepys almost choked. “Good heavens, Mr Standish, your work as my personal inquisitor has barely begun! I have already in mind a most perplexing case, which may baffle even you…”
***
If you enjoyed reading this Samuel Pepys Mystery, please consider leaving a review on your favourite book site(s) – they genuinely help and are greatly appreciated. My series link on Amazon: mybook.to/pepys-series.
Grab your free novella, The Samuel Pepys Mysteries Book 0.5: Mr Pepys's Stolen Diaries at ellisblackwood.com.
Coming Soon
The Plague Doctor Murders (30 Sep 2024)
Click the cover to view on Amazon
A killer dressed as a plague doctor is prowling London's docks…
Ellis Blackwood
Ellis Blackwood fell in love with the writings of Samuel Pepys, and the 17th-century England he so colourfully portrays, via the great man’s published diaries. The Samuel Pepys Mysteries are the result of that literary love affair.
For many years, Ellis was a national newspaper and magazine journalist, living in London. He currently lives with his wife, two daughters and Spike the dog in Cornwall. Recently he attained an MA in Comedy Writing from Falmouth University.
The Samuel Pepys Mysteries
Book 1: The Brampton Witch Murders
Book 2: The Plague Doctor Murders (September 2024)
Book 3: The Coffee House Murders (October 2024)
Book 4: The King's Court Murders (January 2025)
I'm on Facebook and Instagram. Love to hear your thoughts, always happy to answer questions.
Ellis Blackwood on Facebook
Ellis Blackwood on Instagram
Or scan this QR code to visit my Linktree page, where you'll find all my links.
Acknowledgements
Icould not have published The Brampton Witch Murders without the sterling work of Tim Brown, whose covers are a joy to behold, and whose editorial guidance has been a godsend. Equally, my wife, Sinead, has worked tirelessly and generously in the background to allow me the time and space to write the Pepys Mysteries.
Researching Samuel Pepys, the period and witchcraft, I turned to a variety of books. Most notably, for The Brampton Witch Murders:
The Illustrated Pepys edited by Robert Latham, Penguin Books (1979)
London and the 17th Century by Margarette Lincoln, Yale University Press (2021)
Samuel Pepys: The Unequalled Self by Claire Tomalin, Penguin Books (2003)
Witchfinders by Malcolm Gaskill, John Murray (2006)
Ellis Blackwood, The Brampton Witch Murders: A gripping 17th-century cozy historical mystery
