A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) (18 page)

“Because it is all I’ve heard for the past year. I’m sorry, Will, that was unfair. Tell me what it is you need.”

“I’m afraid I have to give you notice on my cottage, sir, but I would be grateful if you could allow me to continue to rent the shop.”

It was Rutherford’s turn to be surprised, “So Martha has found somewhere in Hanbury? That didn’t take very long. I must admit I rather thought that you wanted to resist her determination to move away.”

“Martha is very difficult to turn aside once she has the bit between her teeth,” said Will with resignation, coming as near as he ever did to criticizing his wife. It was not in his nature to discuss his private life with anyone, much less his landlord, who evidently had troubles aplenty of his own, without being burdened by Will’s minor grouses.

After his own recent experiences of trying to live his life to please others and failing spectacularly, Rutherford felt an unexpected rush of sympathy for the pale and obviously worried apothecary. It took him mere seconds to decide to speak bluntly, with no regard for the niceties which ought to exist between landlord and tenant.

“My dear fellow, if you feel so strongly about it, you really should tell Martha. I know she is indomitable, but she must surely realize that she cannot force you to make a move which will cause you unhappiness.”

“My happiness isn’t really the issue, though, is it, Captain? I have a duty to give the best possible life I can to my wife and children. My feelings must always be secondary to that.”

Rutherford thought of the two little girls who were, in all probability, going to be dependent on their father for the rest of their lives and could not deny that Will had an unarguable point.

“Well, at least let me do something for you, Will. I’ll leave the cottage empty and charge you no rent for three months, so that if things do not work out for you in Hanbury, at least you have your home to come back to – how would that suit?”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Captain. You have the estate to run and how can it be efficient if you leave your properties untenanted?”

“I insist. What price friendship? If I cannot do a favour for the man who saved the life of the man who exonerated me, then it is a poor show. Now, will it suit?”

Will smiled with relief, “That will suit very well, sir, thank you.”

Rutherford held out his hand and Will shook it with fervour, “You don’t know how much that means to me, Captain Petch. I was afraid that if I burned my boats I would leave my family in worse straits than ever.”

Rutherford laughed, “I would never leave you destitute – or those dear little girls of yours, Will, never fear.”

“Thank you, sir. And if I can ever be of assistance ...”

“You have already paid any debt a hundred times over, my friend.”

Will went off to picnic with his daughters lighter of heart than he had been since Martha had ever had the notion of moving their business to Hanbury.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

‘Altissima Quaeque Flumina Minimo Sono Labi’ – The deepest rivers flow with the least sound – Still Waters Run Deep

              The two little Jebson girls could barely contain their excitement. Not only was their darling papa going to spend time with them, but they were going to eat outdoors for the first time in their short lives. Having a picnic was not something which Martha had ever considered, let alone arranged.

              Violette too was waiting with happy anticipation for the apothecary. Much as she liked the children and was enjoying a life without worry over where the next meal was coming from and where she would lay her head that night – not to speak of whom she might be required to spurn from that bed – she was now ready for some social intercourse with an adult. She had tried and tried again to make friendly overtures to Lucy and had been firmly rejected and she was now almost desperate for a conversation which was not primarily in single words and simple phrases.

              She wished that Mr Jebson did not look so very unhappy at the prospect of dining outdoors with herself and the little girls. She had grown to like and admire him for his kindness, his infinite patience and his self-deprecating sense of humour, which, despite the fraught atmosphere in the house, had shown itself once or twice and she hated the feeling that she was adding to his woes in some undefined way.

              He made every effort to be enthusiastic in the face of his exuberant daughters, “Well, I’m here at last. Where are we going to eat?”

              Violette smiled down at the giggling, dancing Prue and Minta, “Shall we show papa our secret place?”

              Clapped hands and renewed laughter greeted this and the girls each grabbed a hand and began to draw their father across the little lane and a few hundred yards away from the cottage. When they reached a rickety wooden gate, they pointed and shouted, “Over here, papa, over here!”

              He knew that over the gate and into the meadow beyond they were actually straying onto the Petch estate, but he hardly supposed Rutherford or Cressida would mind. If the odious Luckhurst had still been in charge, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find man-traps and armed gamekeepers, but all was safe there now.

              Violette handed him the basket to hold whilst she climbed over the barrier. He blushed and turned his face away as she reached the top and granted a flash of stockinged leg and lacy petticoats. Once she was over, she bade him pass the basket then help the girls to join her.

              Prue climbed confidently, her stocky body and short legs made short work of the task, but Minta was slightly plumper and when she reached the top she found her leading foot dangling in mid-air and she failed to find a foothold. She teetered dangerously for a few seconds then let go with a scream of thrilled fright as if she could not quite decide whether to be scared or not.

              Will, with an exclamation of horror, rushed forward to try and save her, but he need not have feared. Violette was waiting with open arms and caught her easily as she slid off the top of the gate.

              “Whew, Minta, you are getting to be a big girl. I can hardly hold you,” she said with a laugh, setting the child firmly on her feet. “Come, Mr Jebson, your turn next. But don’t fall like Minta. I shan’t be able to catch you. I think you would squash me flat!”

              The two girls squealed with delight at this sally and Will gave a ghost of a smile, slowly thawing towards the girl who was giving his children so much joy.

              They set off across the field, Minta and Prue running ahead, the two adults following at a more leisurely pace. Will wondered where they were headed, but apparently his daughters knew exactly where they wanted to go and made a beeline for the trees at the edge of the meadow.

              He was enchanted when they finally reached their destination, for their chosen spot was a small patch of soft and tender grasses, dotted with wild flowers of every colour. It was almost a tiny island, for the river gave a huge meander just at that point, then curved back upon itself, leaving this tiny oasis, skirted by a copse of young trees which allowed the dappled sunlight to paint the whole magical place in gold with purple and green shadows. The river there was slowed by the sharp bends and flowed with a soft gurgle, its surface only occasionally disturbed by a sudden plop and ripple caused by a trout catching flies.

              The French woman had come prepared. She spread a rug upon the ground and began to unpack the food, whilst the girls chased butterflies and talked non-stop to each other in their own odd little language, unintelligible to the grown-ups, but which seemed to make perfect sense to them.

              Will sat on the opposite side of the blanket, leaving a wide space between them, but he was unable to hide his interest in the contents of the basket. He suddenly realized how hungry he was, having eschewed breakfast in his eagerness to catch Rutherford Petch before he left for his interminable rounds of his estate.

              Violette seemed to read his mind, for she remarked, “Lucy has given us some nice things to eat. She was very nice about making us luncheon, but she would not come with us, even though I asked her to.”

              She sounded a little sad about the unrelenting enmity of the younger girl and Will felt he had to say something comforting, though he hardly believed his own words.

              “I’m sure she will eventually come to accept you, Violette. But she was devastated by her brother’s death. They had no one else in the world but each other.”

              She nodded, “I know how that feels. Sadly I did not even have a brother.”

              The apothecary thought it tragic that the two women could not find comfort in each other when they had so much in common. He could only hope that Violette would eventually work her charm on Lucy as she had on himself.

              The rug was soon spread with goodies and Prue and Minta were called to come and eat. They needed no second bidding. Pork pie and pickles, bread and cheese, fruit cake and a jug of fresh, creamy milk satisfied the little ones but Will’s eyes widened with surprise when his companion produced a bottle of wine from the basket and handed him a corkscrew and two glasses.

              “Where on earth did you get this?” he asked, as he obligingly struggled to extract the cork.

              “I happened to meet le Capitaine, when he was out riding and he asked me if there was anything I missed from home. I told him I enjoyed a glass of wine and he sent half a dozen bottles from his cellar.”

              “That was kind,” said Will, trying not to sound, or indeed, feel, disgruntled by this overwhelming generosity. It was easy enough for a rich man to make grand gestures, but where did that leave mere mortals? And why did he care that Violette was apparently quite taken with the handsome, young soldier?

              As soon as they had finished eating, Prue and Minta were off again, picking flowers, blowing dandelion clocks, paddling in the river. Will had intended to eat his meal and then leave the ladies to their afternoon of entertainment whilst he returned to work, but the wine had made him a little tipsy and he found himself wondering if it was so very vital that he went back to his shop. Joe, after all, was going to be left in charge in a few weeks’ time, so let him begin now.

              He lay back and watched the clouds, huge and billowing and promising rain later, but too high just yet to be threatening. There was a skylark soaring above them and as it dropped its notes, like the tinkling of raindrops falling from above, Will thought that though life was often hard, even cruel, and almost always full of difficulties, there could be moments of pure happiness like this one. He was full of delicious food, drowsy with good wine and he could hear his children playing, laughing, dabbling in the water, with a woman who loved them, enjoyed talking to them and accepted their splashing with good grace and humour.

              He just wished there could be more times like this, instead of relentless slog, worry and misery. He wanted to be a man who was grateful and contented and until a few days ago he would have considered himself to be at least fortunate, but suddenly his heart ached with longing for something more.

              He closed his eyes and began to drift into a comfortable snooze, only to be rudely awoken by a dead weight landing on his stomach causing an explosive exhalation of all the air in his lungs. He was instantly alert and looked down to find a giggling Minta lying on top of him.

              “Wake, papa! No sleep, play!” was her imperious command and he obediently dragged himself back to the present and with a groan rose to his feet. There followed a mad half an hour of chasing, rolling in the grass and laughing, which Violette was delighted to join in, though Will was careful to avoid chasing or catching her.

              Eventually the tired children were glad to lie down on the rug and allowed their father to fold the spare side over them and they both closed their eyes, though there was still a lot of whispering a giggling going on for a good few minutes after they were supposed to have settled.

              As the rug was now being utilized, Violette and Will sat on the grass and they both looked at the river, rather than each other, getting their breath back and busy with their own thoughts.

              Will was startled when Violette suddenly spoke, for he had been deep in a brown study and enjoying the sudden peace.

              “This is how childhood should be,” she said softly, almost to herself.

              He smiled, “I cannot disagree with that,” he said, “though sadly it is rare enough in this world. I sometimes envy my daughters, for they will never truly understand the harshness of life – well, not if I have anything to do with it.”

              Violette looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, “They are lucky to have you. Would that my father had cared half as much.”

              Every instinct was screaming at him not to pursue this conversation, knowing that he would not be able to dismiss from his memory anything that she might confide, but still he said, “I gather you did not enjoy a carefree youth, Violette?”

              She laughed bitterly, “Hardly. My father was the worst sort of bounder. He seduced my mother away from her home and family and only agreed to marry her to spare their shame when they had paid him a considerable sum of money. Her father paid but he refused to forgive her and they never met again. I spent my formative years in France, but the revolution had impoverished him and it pleased him to blame me for all his misfortunes, though I was not even born when the Terror came. When my mother died I was at his mercy for several years until he too died. My mother’s English family were the only relatives I had left, so I came here seeking a reconciliation, but to no avail. They too rejected me and I was left in a strange country, destitute and without any means of earning my living. The rest you know.”

              Will felt that he hardly did know the rest, but he made no demur. It was, perhaps, best that he remained in ignorance of her sad tales. He was certainly aware of enough to feel pity for her.

              “I’m sorry,” he said, inadequately.

              She shook her head, “All history now,” she said briskly, wondering why this lovely day had engendered these unhappy memories. Such morose stuff should be left firmly in the past.

“But what of you? It must have been idyllic, growing up in this lovely place?”

              He gave an ironic half-smile, “Idyllic? Not quite. Though I can hardly complain of anything like your hardships. It was the same story as for so many others. Too many ambitions, too little money to fulfil them. Miss Greenhowe made sure all the village children were taught to read and write by the vicar’s wife. It was kindly meant but it gave me ideas above my station. I wanted to be a doctor, but it could never be. The best I could hope for was to be taken on as an apprentice by the apothecary, and that, thank goodness, came to pass. I have much to be grateful for, especially to Mrs Jebson and her father, who had no other children and without whom I could never have hoped to own a thriving business.”

              Violette had the oddest sensation that he was not only telling her this, but also reminding himself of it.

              “Not just one shop, of course, but soon to be two,” she said in an encouraging tone, feeling the need to dispel the air of melancholy that seemed to hover over him, like wisps of cloud before the sun.

              “Yes,” he responded, non-committally.

              “I suppose I must look for another place when you leave for Hanbury. Mrs Jebson will want to take charge of her children once again and you will not need my help.”

              “Even if Martha wants to retain your services, my dear girl, I will not allow it,” he said decidedly.

              As the import of his words sank in, she looked shocked and upset, “You see, I knew you did not like me or approve of my past, even though it is no fault of mine that I have had to lead the life I have!” she gasped, making to rise to her feet and run away from him.

He caught her hand as she tried to rush past him, “Violette! You misunderstand me. It has nothing to do with any of that.”