Heir to Greyladies (16 page)

‘I’d like to do that, help others, I mean.’

‘You’ll have enough money to do a lot of good. Helping people used to give your Cousin Agnes a great deal of pleasure.’ She looked at the clock and clicked her tongue in annoyance. ‘I’d better go and see Flora and Livvy. You say goodbye to your lawyer, then sort out those bedrooms.’

Mr Lloyd was just coming back into the house as they went into the hall. ‘Ah, there you are, my dear Miss Latimer. I have to leave now, but I’ll come back in a day or two to sort out the paperwork with you. You’ll have to come into Swindon one day as well.’

She looked puzzled.

‘You need to have access to the bank account to pay your bills. We’ll arrange to meet the bank manager and hand things over to you.’ He pulled out a purse he’d brought and pressed it into her hand. ‘Here are fifty pounds to start you off.’

She stared at the money in amazement. ‘But … I don’t need that much.’

He laughed. ‘You don’t have to spend it unnecessarily, but you ought to be prepared.’

‘I’ve never had even a savings bank account before. My stepmother took nearly all my wages.’

‘It’s not difficult to manage the accounts. Miss Bowers will show you how.’

Harriet looked very young, standing at the top of the front steps to wave him goodbye. He hoped he could keep her safe. She had no family to do that, so what she really
needed was a husband, a strong man who would be kind to her and keep her stepmother at bay.

But before she could find a suitable husband, she had to learn to live as a lady should.

Well, at least he’d left her in good hands for now. He had a lot of respect for Miss Bowers. She would guide the new Lady better than anyone else could.

When Norris came home that evening, he twirled his mother round the living room.

‘Stop that, you fool! What’s wrong with you?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with me. In fact, everything looks very promising. I consulted a lawyer today. If Harriet has inherited anything, the money will be in our charge while she’s a minor. And it’ll stay with us after that, if I have any say in the matter.’

‘You don’t know that she’s inherited anything,’ Winifred said sourly.

He tapped his nose. ‘I can feel it. Money. It makes my nose itch.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘Well, we’ll soon find out. I’m going over to Swindon on Friday to see this lawyer chappie.’

‘I thought you were going to write to him.’

‘I want to see his face when I tell him you’ll be in charge of the inheritance. Exchanging words on paper doesn’t show you whether a man’s lying or not.’

‘I still think you’re wasting your time and money. Harriet won’t have inherited anything worthwhile.’

‘We’ll see.’ He tapped his nose again.

When the schoolteacher had left to go into the village, Harriet suggested to Joseph that he take one of the bedrooms in the old part of the house.

‘Good idea. Let’s choose it now.’

The rooms were spacious but empty, the floors and window sills dusty. There was no furniture, though there were cupboards filled with junk.

‘I suppose that can be cleared out later,’ she said. ‘I need to find some paper and start making a list of jobs to do. Anyway, if you’ve decided on this room, I’ll go and find Frank to help me move some beds down.’

He caught hold of her hand. ‘Thank you, Harriet.’

‘What for?’

‘Letting me stay here.’

‘You’re my only friend.’

‘And you’re mine.’

They stood staring foolishly at one another for a few seconds, then she flushed and pulled her hand away. ‘I’ll go and find Frank.’

He’d been exploring the old stables and was just coming back to find his master. ‘I don’t think those stables and outhouses have been cleared out for years, miss.’

‘Never mind those. Miss Bowers is going to move into Greyladies and Mr Dalton will be staying here in the old house, so I need you to help me with the beds.’

He scowled. ‘Making beds is women’s work.’

‘We all need to help where needed,’ Joseph said quietly from behind them.

‘Anyway, I don’t need you to make up the beds,’ Harriet said. ‘I want you to pull some beds to pieces from the new part of the house and bring them down, so that you and Mr
Dalton can use these two rooms.
I
can put the sheets on the beds, if that’s too hard for you.’

Joseph frowned at his manservant. ‘Nonsense. Frank can help with that as well. Maybe I’ll try to help him. It can’t be all that hard to hold one end of a sheet.’

Somehow Joseph’s quiet words seemed more effective than an outright scolding.

Frank shuffled his feet. ‘Sorry, sir. Miss. I wasn’t thinking.’

Harriet nodded acceptance of his apology. ‘I can help you carry the pieces of bed frame down, if you need help. I’m stronger than I look. Let’s go upstairs now and see if we can find some single beds. Will you be all right, Joseph?’

‘Yes, of course. You don’t mind if I explore the old part, do you?’

‘Not at all.’

With so many bedrooms in the new part of the house, they soon found some suitable beds and while Frank went off to look for tools in the outbuildings, so that he could unbolt the frames, Harriet went up to find the linen room that Miss Bowers had told her about.

She still had to choose rooms for herself and Miss Bowers. She quickly sorted out some sheets and pillowcases for Joseph and Frank and took them down to the old house.

Then she went back to the new house, where she found two particularly lovely bedrooms, one at each end of
three-sided
landing, both looking out over the front gardens. It was easy to tell which one had belonged to her cousin Agnes, because it was still full of the old lady’s possessions, while the drawers and cupboards in the similar front-facing room at the other end of the three-sided landing were empty.

Yet it was Agnes’s room which attracted Harriet. She
found herself speaking aloud, as if her cousin could hear her. ‘Would you mind if I use this room?’

It was probably silly, just her imagination, but she felt a sense of warm approval.

From the bangs and thumps, Frank was busy dismantling and erecting the bed frames.

When she went to check on his progress, she found he’d set up the two beds already and had started to make them up, with Joseph’s inexpert help. She paused in the doorway to watch them, two young men of about the same age. They were laughing hysterically over the mess they were making of such a simple job. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Joseph having fun before, so crept away and left them to it.

Feeling thirsty now, she went into the kitchen, but was hesitant to tackle the task of lighting the big, old-fashioned cooking range. She didn’t want to dirty her clothes because she hadn’t many decent ones, and if this range was anything like the one at Dalton House, it’d have its own peculiarities. Better wait for the new cook to do that.

She began to check what was in the cupboards instead.

A few minutes later Frank peered in. ‘We’ve made up Mr Dalton’s bed.’ He grinned. ‘It doesn’t look as good as when my mum makes a bed, but it’ll do. Mr Dalton said I should sleep in the room next to his. Is that all right with you, Miss Latimer?’

‘That’s fine. I’ll leave you to make up your own bed.’

He saw the open door of the unlit stove and came to join her. ‘Want me to light that thing for you first? Talk about old-fashioned. I could do with a cup of tea and something to eat, if you don’t mind me saying so, and I daresay Mr Dalton will want one too.’

‘You light it, I’ll make the tea.’

There were slow, dragging footsteps and she turned to see Joseph walking slowly along behind his chair.

‘I thought I’d move round a little … if you don’t mind, Harriet?’

‘Of course I don’t mind. Why should I?’

There were footsteps outside the kitchen door and Miss Bowers came in, carrying a bag and a basket. She was followed by two women who were similarly laden. ‘Oh, good. You’re making some tea! I’m parched.’

She gestured to her companions. ‘I offered Flora and Livvy jobs, as you wished, and they’re happy to start straight away. This is your new mistress, Miss Latimer.’

Harriet smiled at the two women, both many years older than her. She was determined to make their working lives as happy as she could. ‘I’m so pleased you can start now. There’s such a lot to do here.’

Livvy moved forward. ‘I can finish making the tea, miss, if you like. Mr Pocock from the shop is sending up some food to put us on till we can give him a proper list, an’ he’s sending word to Farmer Brunson that we’ll need milk regular and Mrs Brunson sells eggs, so I said to send a couple of dozen …
if
that’s all right. Miss Bowers said it would be. But me and her brought her milk and bits and pieces of food from home, so we can use them now. No use letting good food go to waste, is there?’

‘Certainly not. I don’t even know where things are here yet, but I’m sure you will, Flora, so perhaps you can help Livvy to settle in. Oh, and this is Frank, Mr Dalton’s manservant.’

The two women looked him over curiously, then turned back to their new mistress.

‘You leave this to us, miss,’ Livvy said. ‘I’ll soon get used to things. It’s a fine big kitchen.’

Flora beamed at Harriet. ‘It’s good to be back. It’s a nice place to work at, Greyladies is, such a happy house.’

Miss Bowers beckoned to Harriet to follow her into the hall. ‘Best to leave them to get on with making us some tea. It’s their job, after all. Livvy had a little cry when I spoke to her, she was so happy to find a job, and Flora hasn’t stopped smiling since I told her you needed her back.’

‘I’m glad.’

Miss Bowers picked up her small suitcase. ‘I’ll go home and pack the rest of my clothes tomorrow and get someone to bring my trunk up to the house. Which bedroom have you chosen for me?’

They went upstairs and she approved the choice, to Harriet’s relief.

As they walked along the landing, Flora called out from the hall below, ‘Tea’s ready, miss. Do you want it bringing up?’

‘No, we’ll come down, thank you. Could you send Frank to fetch Mr Dalton from the old part of the house, please?’

Harriet knew better than to take her tea in the kitchen, even though that would have been quicker. It’d make the maids uncomfortable to have her there. Miss Bowers suggested they use the small morning room for their meals as Miss Agnes had done.

Frank was soon back, pushing Joseph’s wheelchair. ‘Shall I see to the oil lamps after I’ve had a cuppa, miss?’

‘Yes, please.’ Suddenly Harriet felt extremely weary and she saw that Joseph was looking pale and tired. She sat down and let her head fall back against her chair.

‘We’ll have a restful evening. You don’t need to sort everything out at once, as long as we’ve got somewhere to sleep,’ Miss Bowers said.

‘Thank you for letting me use the old part of the house, Harriet.’ Joseph smiled at her. ‘It feels very welcoming, if that doesn’t sound silly.’

‘It doesn’t sound at all silly.’ Harriet felt the same about the whole house.

‘We’ll unpack our clothes after we’ve drunk our tea,’ Miss Bowers decided.

There was a tap on the door and Flora peered in. ‘Frank says you’ve not eaten anything since breakfast, Mr Dalton, so I’ve brought Miss Bowers’ tin of biscuits. We can buy another tin from Mr Pocock till Livvy can make some of her own.’

‘Good idea.’ Miss Bowers handed round the biscuits and insisted they both eat two or three, to keep up their strength.

By eight o’clock that evening, they’d had a scratch meal.

Afterwards, Joseph gave up trying to stay awake and went off to bed. Harriet was wondering if it would be impolite to retire early too. ‘Perhaps … an early night?’

Miss Bowers had watched her try to hide another yawn and laughed. ‘You sound so hesitant. Don’t be, my dear. You can do anything you like in your own house, stay in bed all day, dance the night away, whatever you want.’

It would take some time for her to get used to that freedom, Harriet thought. ‘I will go to bed, then. I’m exhausted.’

The bedroom was quiet, with more shadows than light. Harriet set her oil lamp down on the small bedside table and sat on the bed for a few moments, looking round, thinking what a lovely room it was.

Then she got her nightdress out and snuggled down under the covers, where she found that one of the maids had put an earthenware hot-water bottle. Such a luxury to have that done for her!

She’d expected to have trouble sleeping in a strange house, but could feel herself slipping into sleep straight away.

Her last thought was that she’d come home. She really had.

William Dalton grew angry all over again when he didn’t receive a reply from the stepmother of the maid who’d run away. The woman should have written back immediately when she received a letter from one of her betters.

He decided to summon the lawyer and find out what was going on. When his wife looked in to see what he was doing, he complained to her about the manners and morals of the lower classes.

Sophie waited till he eventually ran out of steam, then ventured to ask, ‘I presume it’s about Harriet again. Is she really worth all this fuss?’

‘No, she isn’t. It’s the principle of the thing that matters. It’s the duty of our class to set standards. And since that stepmother of hers didn’t reply, I’m damned well going to insist the maid do the right thing. Which means contacting the lawyer and asking what’s going on. What a lawyer could be writing to a
maid
about, I cannot think.’

He sent off a peremptory note to summon Mr Lloyd, while his wife took refuge in her bedroom, to sit worrying about how short-tempered William had become since the
troubles with Selwyn. She no longer enjoyed his company and wouldn’t have Joseph to talk to from now on, either.

To her surprise, she was missing her youngest son more than she’d expected to – his gentle wit, his interest in the wider world he read about in newspapers, his kindness. It worried her that she didn’t know where he was, worried her greatly.

For the first time it occurred to her that Joseph had left at the same time as Harriet. Surely they hadn’t gone off together? Surely even someone as unworldly as him wouldn’t have seduced one of his mother’s maids?

No, Harriet had been a virtuous girl, not the sort to behave immorally. You could always tell. Sophie frowned. You
could
tell, couldn’t you?

She couldn’t help remembering how much time the two of them had spent together over the past few years. They’d seemed so comfortable together.

No, what was she thinking of? They couldn’t possibly have gone off together. Joseph wouldn’t do that to her.

She wasn’t going to mention the possibility to William. He’d go mad at the thought of his son being involved with a maid. If he hadn’t gone mad already.

He’d been in a strange mood ever since he’d had to publicly refute Selwyn’s debts and stop living in the London house. And who wouldn’t be upset about that? She was, too.

Reginald wasn’t able to go back to Greyladies to see Harriet on the Friday, as planned, because one of his rich clients suddenly dropped dead on the Thursday. That meant Reginald had to help the fluttery spinster daughter deal with
the situation. Her father’s death at the age of eighty-two wasn’t unexpected, but she was acting as if it was the end of the world.

Knowing what his daughter was like, the old man had left a will and full instructions for his funeral, but even so, Miss Chapman was panicking and couldn’t be left to deal with undertakers and other arrangements alone. Besides, Reginald had promised her father he’d help her when the time came, and he prided himself on keeping his word.

There was just time to catch the last post, so he wrote to Harriet, explaining the situation and assuring her that he’d be with her on Monday, without fail.

After all, she’d be busy settling in and she had enough money to manage on for quite a while, and she had Miss Bowers to help her. So there was no great rush. He smiled, remembering her shocked expression when he gave her the money. He didn’t think she’d waste it.

He wondered for a moment what she would do with herself at Greyladies once she’d settled in. She had a very different background from the other lady owners.

Friday started badly. Mr Lloyd’s clerk sent word that he was too ill to come to work, which left him and his partner to the mercies of the junior clerk and a new office boy not yet sure of his duties.

That may have been why a man was shown into Reginald’s room without any warning. ‘Gentleman to see you, Mr Lloyd.’

Before Reginald could say anything, the office boy had left a man standing in front of the desk, not even giving his name.

‘Do I know you, sir?’

‘No. Name’s Harding.’

He held out his hand, but Reginald stayed where he was on the other side of the desk. This was clearly no gentleman, and in fact, his visitor looked a rather rough type.

The man scowled and let the hand fall. ‘I think you know my stepsister Harriet Benson, though. You wrote to her recently.’

Reginald’s heart sank. Of all the times to be confronted with this, when he had Miss Chapman waiting for him. ‘How can I help you, Mr Harding?’

‘You do know Harriet, don’t you? After all, you wrote her a letter.’

‘I cannot discuss a client’s business with anyone else.’

‘But she
is
your client?’

‘May I ask what business that is of yours?’

‘I’m here on behalf of my mother who is her guardian. Harriet is only nineteen. She’s a minor. So she’s not the one you should be conducting business with.’

Reginald breathed deeply and slowly, trying not to let his worry show. Unless he mistook matters, this young man was a sharp customer and poor Harriet was, as she had feared, about to become the target of her step-relatives’ attentions. They’d been taking her wages and now, no doubt, wanted to take over her inheritance.

How the hell had they found out so quickly? And what had they found out? He didn’t ask the man to sit and remained standing himself, hoping to get this over as soon as possible.

‘First off, we want to know what she’s been left.’

‘As I’ve already told you, Mr Harding, I cannot discuss a client’s business with anyone else.’

‘Not even with her guardian? If necessary, we’ll get the local magistrate involved. He’ll soon insist you deal with us.’

‘If what you say is correct, and your mother is indeed Miss Latimer’s guardian, then it’s her I need to deal with, not you. She hasn’t come with you today and, actually, you could be an imposter, for all I know.’

‘How would I know about this if I was an imposter? My mother sent me, asked me to find out what’s going on. She’s a busy woman.’

‘Then perhaps she could write and make an appointment to see me when she isn’t busy.’

‘And
perhaps
you’re trying to avoid telling us the truth. If you’re dipping your fingers into the pot, we’ll find out, you know.’

‘If you make any more remarks like that, I shall sue you for slander.’

Reginald let the silence continue for a couple of minutes, with Mr Harding’s heavy breathing and the faint sounds of passers-by in the street the only things interrupting it.

‘I think you’d better leave now, Mr Harding. Tell your mother to write to me and arrange a meeting, if she claims to be Miss Latimer’s guardian. And she will need to bring proof of that, of course.’

‘Miss Latimer? Harriet’s a Benson, not a Latimer. That was her mother’s name.’

Reginald could have kicked himself for making this mistake.

‘It
is
something to do with her mother’s family, then.’

‘As I said, I’m busy.’ Reginald went towards the door and cried out in shock as his visitor grabbed his arm and swung him round, slamming him against the wall.

‘I’ll bring my mother to see you on Monday morning. Ten o’clock sharp. See that you’re in, Mr Bloody Lloyd.’

Reginald was afraid because the brute was so much bigger than him, and much younger too, but he wasn’t going to give in to violence. ‘I’m sorry but I have an appointment at that time.’

‘Then change it, or we’ll go straight to the nearest magistrate and get a paper saying you have to tell us about Harriet and hand over her business to us. I’ve already spoken to my own lawyer and that’s his advice. Get you to hand things over to Harriet’s guardian. We don’t
want
to make a fuss, but we will if we have to.’

He slammed Reginald into the wall again, smiled and walked slowly out.

Reginald staggered across to his desk on legs suddenly gone wobbly and plumped down on the chair, his heart thumping with the shock of this assault. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to prove that Harding had laid hands on him, but he’d take care never to be alone with the fellow again.

It took quite a while and two cups of strong tea before he felt capable of giving the junior clerk and office boy the dressing-down they deserved for letting in his unwelcome visitor. As he’d suspected, Harding had simply pushed his way in.

He couldn’t avoid the visit to Miss Chapman, but he made his apologies for only being able to spend an hour with her, then went home to have lunch with his wife and tell her about the incident.

She was indignant on his behalf and anxious about Harriet, to whom she’d taken a great fancy.

‘You can’t let a man like that get hold of her and her money, Reggie, you just can’t.’

‘There’s not much I can do to prevent it if that fellow’s mother is her legal guardian.’

‘Well, I’m sure you can think of something. You can be very cunning when you need to.’

‘Sometimes, my dear, you can’t win a case, even when natural justice is on your side. Sometimes the law is an ass and uses its might to kick reason out of the way.’

When he went back to the office in the afternoon, he found another unpleasant surprise, a peremptory letter from Mr Dalton, summoning him to visit Dalton House in Welworth, Hampshire, for an urgent consultation about the runaway maid, Harriet Benson.

The note was rather confusing and it took a while for Reginald to figure out that Mr Dalton wanted to drag Harriet back to work out her notice
and
he seemed to be intending to manage her inheritance for her, if that was needed, even though he didn’t know what it was.

Had the man run mad?

Reginald wrote a quick reply to say that he was too busy to visit Mr Dalton and was sure there was no need for Miss Benson to work out her notice, especially as he gathered that Mr Dalton had not been able to pay her the wages she was owed. Let that suffice instead of her giving notice. He remembered to use Harriet’s official surname this time, but reminded himself that they needed to change it legally as soon as possible.

No wonder the poor young woman had run away, if she had men like this harassing her. The trouble was, she had no one but a cripple and her lawyer to defend her from the two bullies who were pursuing her.

Harding was the more to be feared physically, but Dalton was a gentleman and might have other methods of getting his own way against a mere maid.

Reginald wasn’t sure what he could legally do to help Harriet. At the last resort, he’d have to suggest she run away again and hide till she was twenty-one.

He didn’t think a magistrate would look kindly on that.

But he didn’t think Harding would give up easily, so she might not be safe physically if the fellow pursued her.

Harriet woke with a start as someone knocked on her bedroom door. For a few seconds she wondered where she was, then remembered and lay back, smiling. ‘Come in.’

Flora brought in a cup of tea.

‘Oh, how lovely! Thank you so much. Did you sort out a bedroom for yourself and sleep all right?’

‘I slept like a baby, miss. I’m back in my own room in the attics instead of sharing with my niece, who can’t lie still for more than a minute. Begging your pardon if I’m being too familiar.’

‘Oh, no. You’re not.’ Understanding how much servants saw, whether they admitted it or not, Harriet decided on honesty from the start. ‘You must be aware that I was a maid myself until a few days ago. I still can’t believe I’ve inherited all this.’ She waved one hand to indicate the house.

Flora’s rather severe face softened. ‘It must have been a shock, though a pleasant one. Didn’t you have any idea at all, miss?’

‘No. I’d never even heard of Greyladies or Miss Agnes. So I’d be grateful for any help you can give me, never mind
that I’m the mistress here. Just tell me if you see me doing something wrong. I’m terrified of upsetting the people in the village or the local gentry till I know my way around and what to do.’

‘We’ll get you through the first few days, don’t you worry, and I’m sure you’ll soon feel at home. My mother can remember Miss Agnes coming here and
she
didn’t know much about Greyladies then, either. The house always passes to the one most able to care for it. Though how the ladies know who that is, no one can tell.’

‘I’m glad I’m not the first to be surprised by the inheritance.’

‘Well, for a start, you’d better drink your tea before it goes cold, miss, and I’ll see if Mr Dalton is awake. I daresay he’ll be glad of a cup of tea, too.’

At the door she paused for a moment and said thoughtfully, ‘It’s nice to have someone staying in the old part of the house. It fair gives me the creeps when I have to go in there on my own. You can hear people talking and laughing, even though there’s no one there. Not that they’ve ever hurt me, but them as don’t believe in ghosts haven’t lived here, is what I say.’

There was no help for it. Reginald had to see Harriet and let her know about this latest development, then discuss what to do.

He hired an enterprising young man who owned a motor car to drive him to Greyladies, making an early start at eight o’clock on Saturday.

The journey was much quicker in a motor car, thank goodness, and he asked Stanley to wait for him at the rear
of the house. ‘I’m sure the servants will provide you with some refreshments. I’ll not be staying long.’

‘Very well, Mr Lloyd.’

Flora answered the front door.

‘Nice to see you working here again,’ Reginald told her.

‘Nice to be back, sir. You’ll be wanting Miss Latimer. Would you like to come through into the sitting room then I’ll go and find her?’

Harriet came hurrying in to greet him soon afterwards. ‘Is something wrong, Mr Lloyd? You said you weren’t coming again till at least Monday.’

‘I fear we do have a problem.’

‘Oh dear. Look, before you tell me, let me ask Flora to prepare a tea tray and then I’ll see if Joseph and Miss Bowers can join us. If you don’t mind, that is?’