Heir to Greyladies (19 page)

Miss Bowers, who had gone to peep out of the window, darted across the room and set the bell pealing for Flora, explaining, ‘It’s Mr Greenlow. He’ll expect someone to take his horse round the back. Let’s hope Mickey’s as good with horses as his father said.’

She turned to Harriet. ‘Mr Greenlow is the local magistrate. You need him on your side. He’s a good man.’

Flora reappeared in the doorway almost immediately.
‘I’ve sent Mickey round to take the horse. I’ll get Cook to make some tea once I’ve answered the front door, shall I?’

‘We’ll answer it. Mr Greenlow is an old friend of mine.’ Miss Bowers took Harriet to the front door and called out, ‘Good afternoon, Mr Greenlow.’

Mickey came panting round the corner of the house, stopped dead when he saw Mr Greenlow, then moved forward at Miss Bowers’ urgent beckoning signal.

‘That fool’s not going to try to shoe it, is he?’ the visitor demanded.

‘No. He’ll just give it a drink and see that it’s comfortable.’

Mickey took the reins and walked off beside the horse, murmuring to it.

‘Let me introduce you to Miss Latimer, the new owner. Harriet, Mr Greenlow is one of your new neighbours.’

He turned back to Harriet. ‘Sorry. I’m being rude and ignoring you.’ He bounded up the steps. ‘Pleased to meet you, my dear young lady, very pleased.’ He pumped her hand vigorously then studied her openly. ‘You have a look of the Latimers.’

‘So Miss Bowers tells me. And of course there are the portraits. I can see the resemblance in them myself, my hair colour for one thing.’

He laughed. ‘Gloomy old things, aren’t they, those paintings? Probably need a good clean.’

‘Please come into the sitting room and let me introduce you to Joseph Dalton, my good friend.’

‘Joseph’s staying in the old part of the house till he can find himself a home of his own,’ Miss Bowers put in quickly. ‘We’re very happy to have the old place occupied.’

Mr Greenlow frowned at this. ‘They said you had a
young fellow staying, but no one’s set eyes on him in the village.’

She lowered her voice. ‘Mr Dalton has a problem walking. Don’t be surprised by the wheelchair.’

‘Oh. I see.’ His face lost its suspicious look.

When they went into the sitting room, they found Joseph standing up next to his wheelchair. After the introductions were made, he moved it across the room and sat down.

‘Have a fall, did you?’ Mr Greenlow trumpeted.

‘No, sir. I was born with a bad hip.’

‘Shame, eh. But you look healthy enough otherwise.’ He turned back to Harriet. ‘Now, tell me about yourself, my dear. You’ll excuse an old man’s curiosity, I’m sure.’

She wasn’t sure what to tell him, feeling rather shy of this loudly confident old gentleman, but as he began to draw her out, she quickly realised that for all his gruffness and blunt way of speaking, he was of a kindly disposition.

With the help of his questions, she managed to summarise her life, and in doing so soon came to realise that he was a clever man beneath that bluff exterior. No wonder he was a well-respected magistrate.

‘It’s always good to know about your neighbours. I used to breed horses and do a bit of farming, but I leave that to my son now. Four sons we have, nice lads, too. Well, they’re not lads now, got children of their own, but I still call them my lads.’

‘How lovely to have a family. I don’t have anyone now.’

He heaved himself to his feet. ‘I can’t stay long today, but my wife wanted me to invite you and Miss Bowers to take tea with us. Tomorrow afternoon, perhaps? If you’d care to join us, Mr Dalton, I can send the carriage.’

Behind their visitor’s back, Miss Bowers nodded vigorously at Joseph, so he accepted the invitation.

When Mr Greenlow had left, Miss Bowers said thoughtfully, ‘I’m glad he came today. Since he’s the local magistrate, I wanted you to meet him as soon as possible, just in case we need his help.’

‘He’s very … blunt spoken,’ Harriet said.

‘Yes. But he’s kind-hearted and he’d help anyone in trouble, and often does. Never be afraid to ask his help.’

‘I’m praying we won’t need it. Surely Mr Lloyd will find a way to prove that Winifred isn’t my guardian.’

‘I don’t think that’ll be easy, dear. You are under
twenty-one
, after all, and this is a big inheritance for someone so young. Still, Mr Lloyd seems to be on your side, at least.’

But what if he couldn’t do anything about the situation? Harriet wondered. She’d have to run away and stay hidden for two years.

She’d have to leave Joseph.

When Miss Bowers had gone off to find her embroidery, he said quietly, ‘If you’ll take my advice, Harriet, you’ll work out an escape plan now and even pack a few things. Just in case. You have money and I’m sure if you set your mind to it, you could stay hidden till you’re twenty-one. I’m certain Mr Lloyd would prevent them from getting hold of this place in the meantime.’

‘But I’ve only just come here. I don’t want to leave. And I don’t want to leave you.’ She could have wept at the mere thought of having to flee again, be on her own again.

‘I know. And I don’t want you to go. But we have to face facts. Don’t tell Miss Bowers what you’re planning yet. Don’t even tell me the details.’ He sighed and looked down
at himself. ‘I’d come with you, but I’d only slow you down, and anyway, they’d easily trace someone in a wheelchair.’

Miss Bowers rejoined them just then. ‘We need to go and see the village dressmaker, my dear, and then go shopping in Swindon for materials. In your position, you need some better clothes.’

Harriet looked down at herself. ‘I don’t want to spend a lot of money yet … in case I need it for … something.’

Miss Bowers’ expression said she could guess what her companion meant, but she didn’t mention the possibility that Harriet might have to flee. ‘Remember the hiding place, if your stepbrother turns up unexpectedly. And before you do anything … um, rash, remember Mr Greenlow may be able to help. We’re going to tea there tomorrow, so you’ll know where he lives.’

‘I’ll remember.’

She had a fair idea why Miss Bowers wasn’t discussing things openly: so that she could swear on oath that she had known nothing about Harriet’s plans and didn’t know where she was.

Running away seemed the most likely outcome to all this. But oh, Harriet didn’t want to do that! She already loved living at Greyladies, waking up each morning in a spacious sunny bedroom. She had so many plans for improving the old place.

And Joseph was right. He couldn’t come with her. He’d be too easy to trace.

Life could be so unfair.

On Wednesday afternoon, the Greenlows’ carriage arrived to collect them, with a groom sitting by the coachman to help with Joseph’s wheelchair.

Their neighbours lived in a pleasant gentleman’s residence, about half a mile away on the other side of the village, not large enough to be called a manor, but still larger than most. The stables at the back had clearly been extended, and there were a couple of horses being exercised in the next field.

The carriage drew up at the front door and they got out. The groom took Joseph’s chair off the back and pushed him across the paved area to the front door, following Harriet and Miss Bowers.

Their host and hostess had come out to greet them, but tactfully, they took the ladies inside and left Joseph to get out of and back into the wheelchair once the groom had lifted it up the steps and into the hall.

‘This way, sir.’ The man pushed it into the room on the left.

Mrs Greenlow beamed at him so warmly, Joseph began to relax.

‘I’m so glad you were able to come and visit us, Mr Dalton. We do enjoy having young people around and it’s always good to know one’s neighbours, don’t you think?’

They chatted for a while, then tea was served, after which Miss Bowers said abruptly, ‘I think Harriet should discuss what to do about her situation with you, Mr Greenlow, since you’re the local magistrate. Would you mind? Her lawyer isn’t at all sure what will be decided.’

‘Shall I leave you alone?’ Mrs Greenlow asked.

‘No need. I think the details of my life are becoming known to everyone in the village.’ Harriet already felt at ease with this friendly couple.

‘I’ve already shared what you told me with my wife,’ her host said. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind. We’ve been discussing it and I have a few more questions.’

‘Of course not. It’s kind of you to take an interest.’

When she’d finished answering the questions, Joseph winked at her and gave her a nod, as if to say she’d done it well. She smiled at him, then had to apologise and ask her host to repeat what he’d said.

After a few more shrewd questions, Mr Greenlow shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. ‘It’s a difficult situation to judge. You’d be better if you had someone else to stand as guardian, apart from that woman. If it goes to court, they’re likely to appoint your stepmother to the position. I would have done that myself if I hadn’t met you and found out how well Miss Bowers thinks of you. She’s the best judge of character I know.’

The former schoolteacher smiled ruefully. ‘You can learn a lot about human beings from children, if you’re observant.’

Harriet felt it was important to make sure they all
understood one thing. ‘I won’t go back to live with my stepmother, whatever anyone says or does. Apart from the fact that I can’t stand the woman, I wouldn’t be safe living in the same house as Norris.’ She didn’t actually say she would run away, but she could see in their faces that they all knew what her only alternative might be.

When the carriage was brought round to take them home, Miss Bowers whispered to Harriet, ‘You get into the carriage with Joseph. I just want to have a word with Mrs Greenlow, who is a good friend of mine.’

She might have to keep them waiting a few minutes, because she had something to discuss with Mr Greenlow – a possible solution for Harriet. But from what she’d seen, the two young people never had difficulty finding something to chat about, so she was sure they wouldn’t mind how long it took.

After a while Mr Greenlow escorted Miss Bowers out and the two of them stood at the top of the steps leading into the house watching Harriet and Joseph laughing and chatting.

‘You can see that those two are close friends,’ she said softly. ‘It does my heart good to see them. They’ve neither of them had a happy life so far.’

He waggled one finger at her. ‘You’re doing it again. Interfering in people’s lives.’

She chuckled. ‘I only do that when it’s necessary. And I’ve never harmed anyone, have I?’

‘No. But be careful you don’t break the law with this one, my dear. Though I will agree, what you suggest might make a difference. Now, let’s get you safely installed.’ He went to the carriage door, gestured to the groom to move
back and helped her into it himself, closing the door and stepping back.

Then he went to find out exactly what his wife thought of Miss Bowers’ suggestion.

Norris arrived in Challerton in a very bad mood on the Wednesday. It’d cost him more than he’d expected to get here and taken longer, too. For the first time, he had begun to doubt what he was doing, but having started, he was damned well going to find out the facts before he gave up on it.

Even if nothing else worked out, he wanted to see what sort of a woman Harriet had grown into, and if she was still as appealing to him as she’d been at fifteen, when he’d first met her. He was going to finish what he’d started with her. He’d never forgotten the feel of her soft body under his, still thought about her lovely hair whenever he saw a red-haired woman in the street.

He intended to pose as a hiker when he got to the village, even though it was a bit early in the year for anyone to go on a walking tour. He’d agreed with the fellow who’d brought him to pick him up in a couple of hours, and to wait for him, if necessary, where the road from the village met the main road to Swindon.

The first thing he saw as he turned towards the village was a big house on the left. It looked very old. A lad was passing so he stopped him to ask, ‘What’s that place called?’

The lad gave him a suspicious stare and started to edge away.

Norris grabbed his shoulder. ‘Tell me what it’s called!’

‘Greyladies.’ He again tried to move away, but Norris dragged him back. ‘I’ll give you threepence if you tell me more about the place and who lives there.’

The lad brightened and stopped struggling. ‘Latimers live there.’

‘Ah. And which Latimers are living there at the moment?’

‘Just one. Miss Latimer.’

‘Old lady, is she?’

‘No. The old one died. This one’s younger. She’s just inherited it.’

Norris was so astonished by the implications of this, given the size of the house, that he couldn’t speak for a moment. Then he saw the lad looking at him hopefully and fished in his pocket for a threepenny bit, holding on to it as he asked, ‘How old is the new one, exactly, and what does she look like?’

‘She’s got red hair – well, reddish, not ginger. I only seen her once, though, and not close. She’s not as old as my mum.’

‘That’s good enough.’ Norris tossed the coin in the air and watched the lad catch it and run off.

He stood by the gate for a few minutes, staring at the house. It was big. Surely
Harriet
couldn’t have inherited a place like this? He’d have gone down the drive to look at it more closely, but he didn’t want her to see him. And anyway, it didn’t seem to be a very welcoming place.

But who else could the new owner be but Harriet, with that age and description?

He whistled softly. If what the lad said was true, Norris and his ma were going to live soft for the rest of their days.

The lad turned and ran back into the village, intent on spending his windfall on some sweets before his mother could take it off him.

Mr Pocock stared at him when he plonked the money down
on the counter. ‘Where did you get that from, Jimmy Taylor? Last I heard, your mother hadn’t enough to feed you properly.’

A customer moved closer. ‘Did you steal it?’

‘No, I didn’t. A man give it to me.’

‘What for?’

‘Tellin’ him about Miss Latimer an’ Greyladies.’

The shopkeeper and his customer exchanged startled glances, then the customer moved to stand between the lad and the door.

‘Come into the back,’ Mr Pocock said. ‘I’ll give you a liquorice stick if you do.’

Jimmy scowled at him, sensing a trick. ‘Why?’

‘I want to ask you some questions, too.’ He reached into a jar and took out one of the twig-like sticks of liquorice root, much beloved by village children for chewing on.

Hardly had he got Jimmy in the back than the customer called out, ‘There’s a stranger coming down the street.’

Mr Pocock looked at the boy, thrust the liquorice root into his hand and said to his wife. ‘See Jimmy stays here. And if you’re quiet, Jimmy, I’ll give you another stick after the man leaves.’

He went back into the shop, all smiles as he faced the stranger, even though he was suspicious of anyone asking about Miss Latimer, after what Miss Bowers had said.

He wasn’t surprised when the man bought a bar of Fry’s Cream chocolate and lingered to ask questions.

‘I don’t know anything about the new owner,’ he lied. ‘My wife says she’s about thirty and ugly with it.’

‘The sign says you do cups of tea.’

‘Only in the summer. Not much call for it at this time of year.’

‘I could murder a cup of tea.’

‘Two shillings.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve not got help so it’s a lot of trouble, takes me away from my work. Two shillings or nothing.’

Norris scowled but paid, sitting at the little table in one corner to drink the tea to the last drop.

When he stood up, he asked directions to the abbey, pretending he wanted to look round it. As if he cared about sodding ruins!

He slouched off, wondering who to believe. Usually children told you the truth, as long as you didn’t frighten them.

He hadn’t liked the looks of that shopkeeper, either. All smiles but slippery as an eel when it came to talking about the big house.

Was he reading more into the situation than he should? How could a girl like Harriet inherit a big old house like that? No, it wasn’t really likely, much as he’d love it to be true. Things like that only happened in fairy tales.

A cold spot hit him on the face, followed by others. Damnation! It was coming on to rain. He pulled out his pocket watch and glared at it. Over an hour to go before the carter would be returning.

He looked round for somewhere to shelter and found a three-sided wooden hut near a gate leading into a bare field. It was the sort of place where farm labourers sheltered from the weather, he reckoned, and thank goodness for it.

Sighing, he sat down on the rough bench. Coming here hadn’t helped as much as he’d expected. He wasn’t really sure of the facts. The shopkeeper had laughed at what the
boy had told him and why should the fellow want to deceive a stranger like him?

No, he must be imagining things because he
wanted
Harriet to have inherited money.

He heard a carriage coming along the lane and watched it pass by, envying those inside. Then he gasped as he saw that one of them was Harriet, sitting there being driven along like Lady Muck. He didn’t see what the two other people looked like, just sat very still watching her as the carriage drove slowly past along the narrow, rutted lane. He stayed in the shadows at the back of the hut, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

When the vehicle had gone, he laughed, slapping his thighs and making crowing noises. It was her. It was
definitely
her.

Raising his eyes to the sky, he said out loud, ‘Thank you for the rain. I’d have missed her otherwise.’

So the lad had told the truth and Harriet was the new owner of Greyladies.

Why had the shopkeeper lied, though? Perhaps he hadn’t seen Harriet, only heard about her. Yes, that’d be it.

Norris punched one hand into the other, doing it again and again, laughing. Just wait till he saw that bloody lawyer. Just wait till he saw Harriet.

He was going to get hold of that big house – him, Norris Harding. He was going to be rich.

There was one obvious way to make sure of that, a way that would mean nobody could ever take it away from him: he’d have to marry her. And he wouldn’t mind, either. Harriet had grown into a fine-looking young woman.

She might say no at first, but his mother was going to be
her guardian, and since she’d be able to live with Harriet, so would he.

And if he planted a baby in her, she’d soon change her mind about marrying him. Women always did, because no one wanted to be landed with a bastard.

When William Dalton read the curt note from Harriet’s lawyer saying he couldn’t afford the time to visit Hampshire, he turned dark red with rage.

His wife, who was sitting at the breakfast table with him, asked, ‘What’s wrong, dear?’

‘That lawyer chappie is refusing to visit me here.’

‘Well, you’re not one of his clients, after all.’

‘But I’m
dealing with
one of his clients.’

‘Harriet isn’t here any longer, so you’re not dealing with her. William, do be sensible. It’s not worth all this fuss.’

‘I may be forced by circumstances beyond my control to live out my days in poverty in the country, but I am a gentleman born and bred, and I will
not
let my standards slip.’

Not for the first time, she cursed their eldest son, who had brought all this on. Selwyn was still continuing to live beyond his means and she had no doubt that when the house passed to him, he’d have to sell it. And where would that leave her, if she outlived her husband?

‘William …’

‘Mmm?’ He opened another letter.

‘I’ve been thinking. About Selwyn.’

‘Ungrateful pup. How I sired such a fool, I don’t know.’

‘Do you think you should still leave the house to him? I’m sure he’ll only sell it because he’ll be even deeper in debt by then.’

William stared at her as if she were a complete stranger, giving her a cold, unfriendly glance. Then he said slowly and distinctly, ‘Selwyn’s the eldest son. We Daltons
always
leave this house to the eldest son.’

‘Even if that son has proven himself unworthy, with his gambling and spendthrift ways?’ She waited then added, ‘And if he inherits and has to sell, what will happen to me?’

He opened and shut his mouth, then grunted and got up, leaving the room without another word.

She hoped she’d given him something to think about, but to her dismay, later that day she saw another letter to Harriet’s lawyer on the silver tray in the hall.