Right, said Fred

Would anyone like to hear about Lady Valerie Meux, a man named Skull, a haunted room and a £100 bet?

And, of course, rats. Lots and lots of rats. Big rats. Big as cats, according to Mr. Skull.

This story takes place in 1905 (probably, but the precise date is unknown).

So introductions first …

Lady Valerie Susie Bruce Meux, widow of Sir Henry Meux, heir to the vastly wealthy brewing dynasty. Who remembers Friary Meux? Of course, you do. They had pubs all over London. Lady Meux owns property in London, Brighton, Paris, Wiltshire, but in recent years lives primarily at Theobalds Park, Waltham Cross, Hertfordshire. She also owns Whitewebbs House, in Enfield. Her overwhelming desire is to be accepted into the top-rank of society, but her past as a banjo-playing barmaid and music hall starlet of the 1870s, still haunts her. She died in 1910.

The aristocrat is Frederick Heyworth Cripps, born in 1885, the son of Charles Alfred Cripps, 1st Baron Parmoor. Fred, as he was known, was educated at Winchester College. He would later fight in the First World War where he was mentioned in despatches and wounded. He gained the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in the Royal Buckinghamshire Hussars. He would later become 3rd Baron Parmoor. Fred died in 1977.

Mr. Frank Skull, not being wealthy or an aristocrat, has no known beginning. But at the time of this story he was caretaker and head gardener of one of Lady Meux’s properties in Wiltshire, Dauntsey House.

Fred Cripps says he saw a great deal of Lady Meux. “She was the most extraordinary character, and would tell stories of her life which sounded quite incredible,” he said.

One night, the conversation turned to ghosts. Fred said he did not believe in them. Lady Meux did. She told him: “I have a haunted house in Wiltshire; it has not been lived in for some time. I bet you £100 that you won’t go down there alone, without a dog or firearms, spend one day in the haunted room and remain there until the following morning.”

Fred accepted the challenge and journey down to the Wiltshire house. There he met Mr. Skull. “The name sounded rather like a scare plot, but it was his real name,” said Fred. “He took me to the haunted room, a large square apartment panelled in oak, with a big four-poster bed in the middle and a fire burning brightly opposite the bed. A candle and a box of matches were at the bedside.”

The last person who has slept in the room, said Mr. Skull, was found two days later wandering the countryside “completely off his head.” Cheerily, Mr. Skull told Fred the house also “swarmed with rats as big as cats.”

Fred requested the caretaker should wake him at 6.30 am with a cup of tea. “Mr. Skull said he would certainly do so, but he feared it would not be a question of him calling me at 6.30 - I should be shouting for him long before that time, but he would be unable to hear me at his cottage, four miles away,” Fred recalled.

Candle in hand, with a roaring wind rattling the windows, Fred climbed the stairway to the haunted room.

“I got into bed, and put out my candle. There was a strange rumbling noise from a stream which ran close to the house. I got to sleep, but woke with a start and could just see the glowing embers of the dying fire. I was conscious of strange noises as though the panelling was cracking up. Suddenly, there was a tremendous bang and a rush of wind across my bed. I must confess to putting my head under the sheet and trying to find the matches with an outstretched hand. I found them, jumped up in bed, struck a match, expecting to be confronted by some horror.

“But nothing happened, so I lit the candle. I then discovered that there was a big cupboard in the panelling by the fireplace, the door of which had suddenly burst open, no doubt owing to the expansion of air caused by the heat of the fire. I breathed more freely, got back into bed and so to sleep.”

At 6.30, Mr Skull arrived with the tea. He was, Fred thought, surprised and more than a little disappointed to find him well and still sane.

Fred left Wiltshire and returned to London to claim his £100. Lady Meux settled the debt immediately.

It should be noted that Lady Meux was extremely fond of practical jokes, bets, dares and would go to extraordinary lengths to achieve them. This was one of them. £100 - in excess of £12,000 today - would be well risking to scare Fred Cripps witless.

Perhaps, Fred should count himself lucky. At least this practical joke did not involve a tiger or turning someone into a human firework display (the vicar survived that, you will be pleased to know). But those are (true) stories for another day.

Frank was still alive in 1911 when he left £400 in Lady Meux's will, published in 1911.

Fred Cripps