Heir to Greyladies (21 page)

She turned back to Flora. ‘If you have to run for help, don’t let them see you. Livvy, you must pretend to know nothing.’

She hurried across to the servants’ stairs. ‘I’ll go up by the back stairs and come down by the front ones, so they won’t know you’ve seen me.’

The knocker sounded.

As Flora answered the door, Livvy kept watch from the doorway at the rear of the hall. She’d run for help herself, if Flora couldn’t get back. When she saw the stranger shove Flora roughly out of the way, she knew they were in for trouble.

But Flora was able to hurry back into the kitchen. ‘They’re up to no good. I’m going for help.’ She looked over her shoulder anxiously and made straight for the back door.

As Livvy shut the back door behind her, she turned to
Phyllis. ‘You heard Miss Bowers. Pretend we know nothing about what’s going on at the front.’

‘What if he hits us?’

‘He won’t if we don’t seem to know anything. You mustn’t show any interest in what they’re doing. Go and make a start on the dishes.’

She hoped the servants would be left alone. You could never tell with violent men, though.

When the door knocker sounded, Joseph saw Flora cross the hall.

‘Yes, sir?’ she began, then cried out in shock.

Joseph saw her stagger backwards as if pushed hard. That didn’t bode well.

Harding strode into the house. He didn’t even notice Flora hurrying back into the kitchen, because he’d stopped to stare round possessively, as if he owned the place. How could he possibly feel like that?

Then Joseph realised what this meant. There was only one way that fellow could hope to own this place. He must be intending to marry Harriet! Well, over my dead body, Joseph vowed.

He turned his wheelchair slightly so that it’d not look as if he was watching the newcomer and called out, ‘Is that you, Harriet?’

When Harding appeared in the doorway, he pretended to be surprised, hoped he was doing a good job of acting. ‘Who are you?’

‘Where is she?’

‘Who?’

‘Don’t play the fool. Harriet of course.’

‘I don’t know. I thought that was her coming in. Who
are
you?’

‘I’m her stepbrother.’ His gaze flicked scornfully over Joseph.

More footsteps sounded in the hall and an older woman, with a face lined and soured by a hard life, followed Harding into the room. She also stared at the man in the wheelchair.

Where were the other two men who’d been in the car? Joseph wondered.

‘This is my mother, Mrs Benson. She’s Harriet’s guardian.’ Harding said. ‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’

‘I’m Joseph Dalton.’ He held out his hand, letting it drop when the intruder made no attempt to shake it. ‘Harriet has kindly allowed me and my manservant to rent the older part of the house until I can find a place of my own.’

‘Dalton?’ the old lady said sharply. ‘That’s the name of the folk she used to work for.’

‘She used to work for my parents, yes.’

‘Then why aren’t you still living back with them?’

‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’

A meaty hand lifted him up by his jacket and held him half off the wheelchair. He didn’t struggle, or protest, or plead. He merely waited, and after giving him a shake, Harding let him drop.

‘Answer my mother when she asks a question, Dalton.’

Joseph pretended to have difficulty easing himself back into position. ‘I won’t answer questions that are none of her business. And if you hurt me in any way, I’ll have you charged with assault.’

He looked towards the door as Miss Bowers came down the last few stairs. ‘And I shall have a witness to prove it.’

They swung round quickly.

Miss Bowers crossed the hall and came into the room. She moved to stand beside Joseph. ‘Who are these people?’

‘Harriet’s stepbrother and stepmother.’

Harding kicked the wheelchair so that it rolled back. ‘Keep your mouth shut, you, unless I tell you to speak.’

‘Shame on you, whoever you are, to bully a cripple like that!’ Miss Bowers said loudly. ‘What are you doing in our house?’

Harding’s scowl grew blacker. ‘How the hell many folk has Harriet got living here? Who are you, old woman?’

‘I’m her companion, Miss Bowers, and I’m helping her settle in.’

‘Well, you can pack your bags and get out after we’ve seen Harriet, because
I’ll
be doing that from now on,’ Winifred said sharply. She began to walk across the room, touching the ornaments on the mantelpiece, then fingering the upholstery on an easy chair, after which she squinted up at the nearest painting.

Every movement said she felt she had a right to do this. What a grasping pair they were! Joseph thought.

‘I’ll ask you again, Dalton:
where – is – Harriet?
’ Harding said loudly.

‘I think she may have been going into the village to visit a friend.’ He frowned as if trying to remember.

‘No, she went to church, then she was going on to see her friend Mary,’ Miss Bowers said. ‘She did tell you, but you weren’t listening, Joseph. You must try not to let your mind stray, dear.’

She winked at him as she spoke, keeping her face turned away from the intruders, then she turned and glanced at the
clock. ‘Harriet won’t be back for a while yet. The people in the village have really taken to her and are welcoming her into their homes.’

Norris looked at her suspiciously and she returned his stare with a bland look that betrayed nothing.

‘Then we’ll have to wait for her to return,’ he said. ‘We’re in no hurry. After all, we’ve come to live here, haven’t we? I’ll just tell our driver to go round the back and keep an eye on the servants. Pat can come and sit in the hall in case either of you tries to cause trouble.’ His smirk at Joseph said he didn’t think this was possible with a cripple.

‘I’ll go and tell the servants to make you all a cup of tea, then,’ Miss Bowers said.

‘Oh, no, you won’t. You’ll stay here. You and that idiot.’ He jerked his head towards Joseph. ‘We want you where we can keep an eye on you. I’ll go. Ma, yell for me if they try to leave this room.’

Miss Bowers gave a loud sniff and sat down in a chair near the window. ‘In that case, I shall read my book. I certainly don’t enjoy conversing with people like
you
.’

Norris paused at the door to add, ‘And don’t let them talk to one another, either, Ma.’

From where Joseph was sitting, he could also look through the side of the bay window. He saw Harding go outside at the front of the house and speak to the driver. When the fellow came back in, one of the men followed him.

But neither of them came into the sitting room. Joseph was still able to see part of the hall. Harding gestured to a chair and then, as the other man sat down, moved towards the back of the house. Presumably he was going to inspect the servants’ area and see who was there.

Joseph picked up his book and pretended to read, but all his attention was on Mrs Benson, who had sat down near the door. She was alternately staring at them and studying the room. Once she left her chair to pick up a china figurine and examine it, a gloating expression on her face. Then she went back to her seat, fidgeting.

That big flowery hat looked ridiculous on such a lined and harsh face. But there was nothing ridiculous about the power emanating from her son. A man to be wary of, Norris Harding.

There were no sounds coming from the kitchen, so Joseph kept wondering what was going on there, hoping the servants were all right.

But most of all, he was worried about Harriet. He knew she hadn’t liked being shut up in the hiding place, even with him beside her.

How would she be coping alone in the dimness?

Norris stood in the doorway of the kitchen. An older woman was cooking something and a girl stood in what looked like a scullery, washing dishes. They hadn’t noticed him, so he watched them for a moment or two longer.

They didn’t look as if they were anxious about anything, were just getting on with their work. Good. They’d not cause him any trouble, if he was careful not to upset them.

It was the biggest kitchen Norris had ever seen. Even the scullery to one side was bigger than Ma’s kitchen at home. There was a row of pans on the kitchen wall – why did anyone need so many? – neat piles of crockery and dishes on the dresser, a knife cleaner, a mincer, and other gadgets he didn’t recognise standing on a long bench to one side, and a huge kitchen range radiating warmth.

How many rooms did this place have? And were they all full of furniture and other objects? He smiled happily. They’d all be his soon.

He couldn’t wait to explore the house properly, though he had to admit that the hall and stairs gave him the creeps, he couldn’t work out why. Almost as if they were haunted, if you believed in ghosts, which he didn’t. It was just an old house where your footsteps echoed, was bound to feel strange. Ghosts had been invented to frighten children and fools. And he was neither.

He couldn’t go and look round the place yet, though. He had to be ready to capture Harriet when she returned from the village.

About time the two servants noticed him. He cleared his throat.

The older woman turned and exclaimed in shock, pressing one hand to her chest. ‘Oh, my goodness! You gave me a right old turn. Who are you?’

‘Miss Latimer’s stepbrother.’ She might call herself Latimer now, but she would be calling herself Mrs Harding before the month was over, he was determined about that. Even if she was officially a Latimer, people would still address her by
his
name. He’d insist on that.

The cook frowned at him. ‘Miss Latimer didn’t say she was expecting anyone. Did she know you were coming?’

‘My mother wanted to surprise her. Where is she?’

‘Gone into the village.’

‘When will she be back?’

Livvy let out a snort of laughter. ‘The mistress doesn’t tell us servants things like that.’

Harriet must have upset her, from her tone. Well, she’d
been a servant herself not so long ago so they’d be jealous of her good fortune.

Norris leant against the door frame and smiled at them. Best to win them round. ‘My mother and I have come a long way, so we’ll be wanting a cup of tea and something to eat in a little while, then some dinner later.’ He’d heard the car chug round to the back and shortly afterwards there was a knock on the back door.

‘That’s our driver. He’ll want something to eat and drink, as well, if it’s not too much trouble. And there’s another friend here too.’

She nodded. ‘Four of you, then, two in the sitting room and two in the kitchen. Don’t worry about your men. We know how to treat visiting servants. I’ll bring the tea through when you ring for it … sir.’

Something was nudging at his mind, but it wasn’t until he was in the hall again that he realised what it was and hurried back into the kitchen. ‘Where’s the other maid, the one who answered the front door to us?’

‘Flora? She went up to finish the bedrooms. Did you want her? I can call her down if you like.’

He hesitated, but he couldn’t believe the servants were trying to deceive him. They hadn’t even cared what he was doing here once he’d told them he was Harriet’s stepbrother. ‘No, I just wondered where she was.’

He mustn’t start seeing problems where there were none. Servants were a spineless lot and spent their lives doing as they were told.

He’d enjoy ordering them around. By hell, he would be set up for life here!

That same morning William Dalton shook his wife awake. ‘I couldn’t sleep, kept thinking what to do. I’ve decided to go over to Swindon to see that lawyer chappie. I’ll insist he tells me where the girl is and why he was writing to her.’

Sophie jerked bolt upright in bed, her long, night-time plait of greying hair falling over one shoulder. ‘William, this has to stop. I
forbid
you to do anything else about Harriet Benson.’

He goggled at her. ‘Forbid me? You can’t forbid me to do anything. I’m still the head of this household, thank you very much. I only woke you out of politeness, to tell you where I’m going.’

She threw back the covers. ‘If you insist on making a fool of yourself, I’m coming with you. Someone has to have their wits about them, and you’ve obviously lost yours.’

‘I’m not waiting for you. I intend to catch the early train.’

She was ready in record time, surprising her maid and cook, as well as her husband.

When the train pulled away from the tiny Welworth station, she leant back and groaned. ‘I’ve not been out and about so early for years.’

‘Nor have I.’

‘I must look a mess.’

He smiled, the first hint that his anger might be abating a little, she thought. ‘You look pretty with your hair looser like that.’

‘Pretty. Ha! I’m past five and sixty.’

‘You’ll always be pretty to me.’

She sighed and took his hand. ‘William, I’m begging you. Please reconsider. Don’t do it.’

‘My mind’s made up. Don’t spoil the journey by arguing, Sophie.’

She didn’t know what to say or do to bring him to his senses. But she understood what was driving him. He’d lost status because of his eldest son, had even lost the ability to use his London house, which was now rented out to rich Americans. That was why he was making such a point of proving he was still master at Dalton House. But he’d chosen a foolish, petty way to do it.

Anger was a poor master.

A minute later he said, ‘It’s nice to get out for a change. We haven’t done much going out since we gave up living in London.’

From inside the hiding place, Harriet could hear every word spoken in the sitting room, though she had to listen very carefully to Miss Bowers’ soft voice.

The scornful way her stepbrother talked to Joseph, as if her friend was a halfwit, made her want to rush out and yell at him that Joseph was a better man than Norris would ever be. But she knew only too well how strong Norris was. He’d grab her the minute he saw her, then she’d be helpless.

And surely he’d not hurt Joseph in any way that could get him arrested for assault? How brave of Joseph to stand up to him!

As the slow minutes crawled past, the darkness made the hiding place feel even smaller and increasingly airless. Even when her eyes grew accustomed to the faint light, it felt as if the walls were pressing in on her. There were no other shapes, just the box of walls and the narrow bench she was sitting on.

She’d never been comfortable in dark, enclosed spaces, but she mustn’t give in to her fears. She tried breathing slowly and steadily. That helped a little.

Then the people outside fell silent and she felt worse, as
if she was cut off completely from everything she knew, as if she was buried alive.

Worries clamoured in her brain like live things. What was Norris doing to her friends now? Was Joseph all right? Why had they stopped speaking?

She couldn’t help wondering if she should give in and let her stepmother take over the house until she turned twenty-one. If she did, surely they would let Joseph go? She wasn’t even sure of that, or of her own safety. Accidents could happen. A human life was such a fragile thing. Norris might attack her again. No,
would
attack her, she was sure. She shuddered at that memory.

And once they got their foot in the door, her two
step-relatives
would try to steal all she had. She knew them. Greedy, even with the food they ate, gobbling it down, clearing their plates, looking round for more. No, she had to stay hidden here until … until what?

Until they went to bed, if necessary.

If she could bear it.

Perhaps they’d come to stay? She tried to remember whether there had been any luggage piled on the back rack of their car, but couldn’t. She’d only caught a quick glimpse of the vehicle before she hid.

The silence in the sitting room continued. On and on. No sounds except for her own breathing puncturing the darkness.

She began to feel panic creeping through her. She couldn’t breathe. She’d used up all the air.

At the very moment when she was feeling utterly desperate to get out, a faint light began to glow in the corner. She couldn’t work out what it was, then realised with a feeling of shuddering relief where she’d seen light like that before. The Lady had come to join her.

Gradually the figure became clearer, transparent and glowing slightly. The Lady was smaller than life size this time but so real Harriet couldn’t doubt it was really happening. The Lady was looking at her lovingly, as her mother used to. That made her feel better, safer.

Was she imagining this? Harriet didn’t think so. She hoped not. She didn’t reach out to touch the apparition, though she’d only need to raise a hand to do that. It would seem disrespectful.

Others had seen the Lady over the years. Miss Bowers said she always looked just the same as in the painting, wearing the grey habit and semicircular headdress with a soft fall of material hanging down her back. It was the sort of garments ladies wore in Tudor times. Harriet had seen drawings of old clothing in schoolbooks.

The figure smiled again, nodding slightly as if in encouragement.

Harriet found herself smiling back and letting out her fears in a long sigh. She wasn’t alone any more. It wasn’t even dark now. She could manage to hold on for a while longer, till she had a chance to escape and go for help.

She distracted herself by considering who she’d go to, coming to the conclusion that Mr Pocock would be the best person because Mr Greenlow’s house was too far away to be sure of getting there before anyone pursuing could catch her. The shopkeeper was a man in his prime, a leader in the village.

Norris and Winifred were
not
going to steal her inheritance, if she could help it.

Taking the short cut through the shrubbery, Flora hurried towards the village, moving as quietly as she could, bending
when she had to pass behind the lower bushes. Twice she stopped behind a tree to glance round and listen carefully, but didn’t hear or see anyone on the way.

She sobbed in relief when she reached the lane and saw Farmer Brunson riding towards the village on his old chestnut gelding.
He
would know what to do. ‘Stop! Mr Brunson, stop! There’s trouble at Greyladies.’

He reined in his horse as she ran across to him, looking shocked as she gasped out her plea for help with intruders. ‘Miss Bowers said to be quick. She said the man who came to the door is a nasty sort and there are two other men with him. They look rough. What are we going to do?’

‘I’m too old to fight anyone, so we’ll have to get some younger men to help.’

‘Miss Bowers said to send word to Mr Greenlow, too.’

‘Good idea! Look, I can see to that. You go and tell Mr Pocock. Tell him to find three or four other men, strong ones, and he must take care how he goes into the house. Maybe by a back window. We don’t want your intruders threatening to hurt the ladies or that lad in the wheelchair, do we?’

She watched the farmer ride off in the direction of Mr Greenlow’s house, then got angry with herself for wasting time and ran headlong up the village street. She nearly fell through the door of the shop, shouting, ‘There’s trouble at Greyladies. Miss Bowers sent me for help.’

She began to cry, couldn’t stop herself. She was terrified of the intruders hurting people.

Mr Pocock came out from behind the counter and put his arm round her. ‘Calm down, Flora lass. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong.’

Even before she’d finished her tale, he was untying his
long apron, tossing it aside and telling his wife to look after the shop.

‘What are you going to do, Sam?’ Mrs Pocock called out as he moved towards the door. ‘Don’t go there on your own.’

‘I’m not. I’m going to find Ben and Chas, Steve Hollis as well, and anyone else who’s around. Once I have enough men to outnumber the three of them, we’ll all go to Greyladies to help Miss Latimer. That family’s helped people in this village time after time, and now
they
need
our
help.’

Flora hesitated, not knowing what to do.

Mrs Pocock beckoned to her. ‘Leave it to my Sam. You’ve played your part now. Call me if anyone comes in the shop. I’m going into the back to make us both a strong cup of tea. That’ll give us heart. You leave the fighting to the men.’

But Flora couldn’t leave it. Greyladies was her home, had been since she was a young maid of twelve. She had to help get rid of that horrible man.

‘I’m going to see if I can help,’ she called out.

‘Flora, no!’ The doorbell was still jangling as Mrs Pocock burst into the shop, and when she went to the open door she could see Flora running down the street, heading towards Greyladies.

Her neighbours came out to see what was the matter, and before she knew it, Mrs Pocock was gathering together a group of women, armed with rolling pins and frying pans, all determined to make sure their menfolk were all right.

You couldn’t be too careful with villains, especially when there wasn’t a village policeman.

Farmer Brunson rode over to Mr Greenlow’s house and dismounted more quickly than he had for years. Throwing
his reins to a gardener and yelling, ‘Hold him!’ he ran past a motor car which must belong to a visitor and hammered on the front door. He didn’t wait for anyone to open it, but went inside, yelling for his old friend.

Mr Greenlow popped his head out of the library. ‘We’re in here, John. What the devil’s the matter?’

‘There’s trouble at Greyladies.’ He saw that Mr Greenlow was entertaining a fellow magistrate. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Murborough, but this is an emergency.’

As soon as Farmer Brunson told them Miss Bowers had sent for help, the two men paid more attention.

‘If
she
thinks there’s danger, then we’d better get over there. Never met a more level-headed woman in my life. We’d better send for Miss Latimer’s lawyer, too. We need to get this matter settled once and for all. Don’t you agree, Murborough?’

‘I most certainly do. If it’s the stepmother you were telling me about who’s bringing rough men to Challerton to bully people, the woman is no fit guardian. Though the girl must have someone to keep an eye on her till she turns twenty-one. That old house is a big responsibility.’

‘Of course, she’s under twenty-one.’

‘We can deal with that together. Sometimes two magistrates are better than one.’

‘Do you want me to ride into Swindon to fetch the lawyer?’ Brunson asked, impatient of these technicalities.

Mr Greenlow looked smug. ‘No need. We had the telephone fitted only last week. I wasn’t sure whether we’d use it much, but my wife was eager to have one. She’s used it several times already, and here we are with an emergency, so
I
need it too. It’s just the thing for a modern man. I’m sure Miss Latimer’s lawyer will have a phone. Bound to.’

He went into the hall, where a table ebonised in 1901 in respect for the old Queen’s death, sat in an alcove with the brand-new telephone sitting in its centre on a lace-edged mat. A chair was to hand for anyone using the device.

Never having seen anyone use a telephone before, Farmer Brunson walked over to watch his friend sit down and unhook the earpiece from a stand shaped like a silver candlestick which had a little trumpet shape pointing upwards. Mr Greenlow leant forward to speak into that.

When he got through to the operator, he asked to be put through to Harrington and Lloyd, lawyers of Swindon. And just like that, he was talking to someone several miles away.

Whatever would people think of next?

When he’d finished speaking, Mr Greenlow hung up the earpiece again. ‘Mr Lloyd was out, but the clerk promised to find him and send him over to Greyladies immediately. He said he’d met Mr Harding and the fellow’s a rough customer, so the ladies were right to be worried.’

He patted the earpiece as if it were one of his dogs, setting it swinging gently to and fro in its holder. ‘Got to move with the times.’

He didn’t even try to hide his pride in his newest acquisition and Mr Brunson guessed his friend would soon be buying a motor car. How did you begin to choose something like that? he wondered. Then he realised the others were moving out to the motor car and went to reclaim his horse.

He’d follow them at a decent pace. He wanted to find out what was going on at Greyladies.

Half an hour passed. Their intruder was getting jittery, pacing up and down, scowling and muttering to himself.
Miss Bowers and Joseph dared do nothing but exchange glances occasionally.

‘Harriet’s taking a long time,’ Norris said at last. ‘Hey, you, idiot fellow! Where is she?’

Joseph gave him a bewildered look. ‘I told you, I wasn’t sure where she was going. I’m not her keeper. I just rent the back part of Greyladies from her.’

‘I’d guess she’s at Mary Clarke’s house by now,’ Miss Bowers said calmly. ‘It’s at the far side of the village from here. We can’t expect her home for another hour, at least.’

‘Then we’ll have to send one of the maids to fetch her. The one who answered the door will do.’

Miss Bowers held her breath, wondering what to say to hide Flora’s absence. She looked at the fob watch pinned to her lapel and said calmly, ‘Flora will have left by now. It’s her half day. She goes home to see her parents, who are elderly and she—’

Norris cut her short. ‘What do I care about your bloody maid and her parents? Very well. We’ll wait a bit longer for Harriet. Ma and I are here to stay, after all.’

The Daltons arrived at the lawyer’s rooms just as Perkins was putting down the telephone after speaking to Mr Greenlow.

‘My name is Dalton. I need to see Mr Lloyd urgently.’

‘I’m afraid you can’t see him now, sir. There’s an emergency and I have to find him.’ The clerk tried to push past, but William was bigger than he was and refused to move from the doorway.

Then suddenly Perkins stopped trying to pass. ‘Dalton, did you say? Are you related to a Mr Joseph Dalton?’

‘Yes. He’s our son.’

‘Then you should know that he’s also in danger, so will you kindly stop holding me up. I have to find Mr Lloyd and send him to Greyladies – that’s where your son is.’

‘Why is he in danger? And what is Greyladies?’

‘It’s Miss Latimer’s house. I thought you’d have known that, since your son’s living there.’

‘I’m not acquainted with any Latimers. Are you, Sophie? No, I thought not.’

‘You’ll know the young lady who owns it as Benson, sir. But she’s changing her name to Latimer as a condition of the inheritance.’

‘My former maid has inherited a house? And Joseph is living with her?’ Mrs Dalton asked, her heart sinking in dismay.

‘Yes.
Will
you let me pass, sir? They could be in danger with that young brute.’ He snapped his fingers as if he’d just had an idea, called for the junior clerk and sent him running to find the young man with the motor car to take Mr Lloyd out of town on an urgent errand. Only then did he move towards the door again, to go after his employer.

To his relief, Mr Dalton stepped aside.

But as he opened the door, his employer arrived back.

By the time Perkins had explained the situation and the Daltons had introduced themselves, the driver had arrived with the car.

‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss this now,’ Reginald told the Daltons. ‘I’ve got to go and help Harriet. And your son.’

‘If our son’s in danger, we’re coming with you,’ Mr Dalton said. ‘Are you game for a motor car ride, my dear? Or do you wish to find a hotel and wait for me there?’