The Death of Squire Watts

as reported in The Milton Keynes Citizen - Thursday August 24th, 1995

(Transcribed from the original held by Hanslope & District Historical Society)

By POLAR BEAR

At the entrance to Hanslope Park a plaque has now been placed, recording the murder in 1912 of Squire Watts by his gamekeeper, one William Farrow.

As it happens, Polar Bear heard the whole story some 10 years ago from the late Mrs Hilda Mary Willett of Haversham, who as a young girl was present when the horror occurred.

She had been for a Sunday morning walk with her friend Gladys Sawbridge, plus the latter's baby sister in a high "pram", when she met the squire and his wife coming back from church. He was well in the lead, striding on ahead as he always did.

The girls bobbed the usual curtsy as he went past, but Mrs Watts, wearing a royal blue georgette scarf, stopped to admire the baby.

"She saw the dummy in her mouth, said firmly 'Now that's not good for baby' and out it came." And that was that - a fairly normal village meeting, with the two overawed little girls dashing back home.

Just afterwards William Farrow, heavily primed with a jug of primrose wine, shot dead the squire from a roadside covert and then turned his gun on himself. The real reason for the killing was never decided. Some evidence about a row over one of Mrs Watts' dogs was produced at the inquest, but the general - and strictly private - village view was that the shots were really intended for Mrs Watts and not the squire.

William was understood to have had a long-standing grievance with her. "The Squire was a real gentleman; but she could be a bit of a dragon at times."

One of Mrs Willett's relatives, Alfred Clifton, heard the three shots and went to investigate, later forming part of the sad bearer party. For this duty Mrs Watts ("a real lady; every rent day she always gave the tenant farmers' wives a bunch of roses when they came to the hall") rewarded him with a silver pencil.

And Alfred later recounted what happened when he and the other bearers reached the hall and prepared to take the poor shattered corpse round to the back door. Mrs Watts, a tall middle-aged lady of great dignity, stopped them.

"No," she said. "He is the Squire; and this is his house. He comes home through the FRONT door."