Anna Jacobs (8 page)

Serena felt instantly better. It was easier to act independently when you had a comfortable sum of money behind you. She knew some women went out and earned a living, but she hadn’t been trained to do anything except manage a gentleman’s household.

Mr Pearson was reading another piece of paper. “Yes, I remember now. The end cottage is slightly larger than the others and your godmother left her former maid the use of it rent-free for as long as she lived, in recognition of her services. Your father wasn’t happy about the woman occupying the house, which would have commanded a higher rent than the others, but I had to advise him that there was nothing he could do about it.” He looked at Serena again and shook his head. “This is so
unnecessary
, Miss Fleming
.
Your father is a respected businessman in this town. Who better to handle your affairs?”

“I’m not acting rashly. I’ve been considering this for several years.”

Justin cleared his throat to gain Pearson’s attention. “It’s very inconvenient that Mr Fleming walked out in the middle of our discussion. Can you find out how matters stand and get back to me later this morning? My client needs somewhere to live and if she owns some property, that might be ideal.”

Pearson’s lips curled scornfully. “A worker’s cottage? My dear fellow, it would be most
un
suitable for a Fleming. But I
will
get back to you as soon as possible. You’re still in Bridge Lane? Very well, I’ll send word there by one o’clock.”

They walked out, Justin picking up Serena’s basket, which she would have forgotten in her agitation.

“We’ll go to my office, I think, Miss Fleming. You can wait there.”

“I still need to find somewhere to sleep tonight.”

He grinned. “My cousin Evadne won’t be able to resist offering you shelter when I explain what’s happened. Your father isn’t liked by many people and has been particularly rude to her and her friends more than once.”

“He has?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I can’t imagine him being rude to a stranger. He’s normally so quietly spoken. Why was he like that with her?”

“It seems he disapproves very strongly of women voting. He not only threw things at Evadne when she was marching along the street to gain attention for the cause, but he encouraged others to do the same.”

“Oh.”

“My cousin considered her suffering worthwhile in the struggle for women to obtain the vote, but
he
made it more a vendetta, even had them thrown out of their former premises and tried to fine them for damage to the property. Fortunately, the men who moved their possessions were able to testify that all had been in order when they vacated the premises. He was clumsy with that, which surprised me, let his anger rule his common sense, I suppose. Ah, here we are.”

Justin opened the door to his rooms and led her inside. “I’m afraid you’ll have to sit in the middle room, because I have another client coming to see me soon, but I’ll make sure my clerk provides you with refreshments and a copy of the Tinsley Telegraph to read. Oh, and the usual conveniences are out at the back.”

“Thank you. You’re very kind.”

But she couldn’t settle and time seemed to pass very slowly when she checked it on the little gold fob watch pinned to her lapel.

It wasn’t until two o’clock in the afternoon that they heard from Mr Pearson, by which time Serena had decided to take a room in a hotel for the night, not wanting to inconvenience Miss Blair.

Justin suddenly appeared in the doorway, waving a piece of paper. “This has come from Pearson. It doesn’t contain nearly as much information as I’d expected, but it appears your father sold six of the cottages some time ago and invested the money for you. There is only one left, the one in which the maid lived until her recent death. Apparently your father is negotiating to sell it at the moment and recommends that we let the sale go through. He says he hasn’t got the key, has given it to the person who’s buying it, but he’ll get one to us within a day or two if we need it.”

“How can he have sold the houses without consulting me?”

“You must have signed something.”

“Indeed I didn’t! Believe me, I’d have remembered.”

Justin frowned at her, then pulled out his notebook and scribbled a reminder. “I’ll look into that as well, then. What about this final cottage?”

“I don’t want to sell it. If it’s at all suitable, I could go and live there until this is sorted out, couldn’t I?”

He raised one eyebrow. “It’s only a cottage.”

“And I’m only one person. How many rooms do I need?” She smiled. “I think I’d like to live on my own for a while, very quietly, with nothing but my own needs to think about—just a daily maid to help out, perhaps.”

“Very well, then.” Justin gave her one of his mischievous looks, “Let’s go and have a look at it now. If the door is locked, there’s bound to be a key on the lintel or under the door mat. There always is.”

Excitement began to curl through her. “I’d love to do that!”

They went out and took a horse cab, whose driver agreed to stay with them for the rest of the afternoon. 

“It’s situated in the village of Horton, just outside town,” Justin said. “Number Seven, Lodge Lane. I’ve passed that row of cottages several times, but can’t remember one being bigger than the others.”

Number Seven was at the end of the row of seven dwellings, a two-storey place, its windows dull and its garden untended. The garden went round the side and rear as well as at the front.

“Well built,” Justin said, “and has an extra room at the rear, I see. But like the others, it needs a coat of paint and some maintenance work.”

As they walked down the path, a woman came out of the next cottage and hurried across to them. Justin raised his bowler hat, murmuring to Serena, “Always useful to get on good terms with the neighbours. Good day to you, ma’am.”

“If you’ve come to see the old lady, she died two months ago.”

“Yes, we know. This is Miss Fleming, the owner.”

“I’m Mrs Diggle.” She frowned at Serena. “They said the house had been sold to Mr Hammerton.”

“No. He may have wanted to buy it, but Miss Fleming doesn’t wish to sell.”

Serena held out her hand. “How do you do. I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs Diggle.”

The woman looked down at her hand, which was covered in flour. “Better not shake hands, miss. I’ll only dirty your gloves.”

“Do you happen to know where the spare key is kept?” Justin asked.

She looked at him, suspicious again. “Don’t you have a door key?”

“Mr Hammerton has taken it, apparently. I’m Miss Fleming’s lawyer and my client wished to see the property so I came with her.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to Mrs Diggle with a flourish.

She read it carefully before nodding, as if he’d passed a test. “Well, there’s a spare key on the lintel above the back door. The same one opens both the front and the back doors. I used to pop in and help the old lady out towards the end, but she didn’t like to leave the front door open when she was lying in bed upstairs, so I always went in the back way and so did the District Nurse.”

“You sound to have been a good neighbour.”

“It’s a poor sort of person who can’t help their fellow human beings.” She took a step backwards. “Well, I’ll leave you to look round, then. It’s strange though, I was sure they said it had already been sold and I don’t usually make mistakes. Anyway, if you need to know anything, just knock on my door.” She nodded and went back inside the house next door.

Justin watched her go with a frown. “I’ll look into the question of whether or not it’s been sold, Miss Fleming. I doubt he can have legally sold it without your permission and signature.”

“He sold the others cottages. And I never signed anything then.”

“That’s on my list for investigation as well, believe me.”

They walked round the back and found the key exactly where Mrs Diggle had said. Justin handed it to Serena with a flourish. “You should do the honours.”

She turned the key in the lock and opened the door. The narrow passage revealed a coal store and a cupboard for household equipment then led into a large scullery, where a slopstone sat under a dripping tap and a boiler for washing clothes occupied one corner, with black marks from countless fires beneath it. From there they went into the kitchen. 

“It seems still to be furnished,” Justin remarked, as they stood looking round. “I wonder if the furniture belongs to you now?”

“That would be very convenient.”

A scrubbed wooden table took pride of place, and there were three pans hanging up, dull brasses on the wall beside the kitchen stove and dusty crockery on the dresser. It was cold inside and yet there was a cosy feel to it, as if someone had been happy here.

Serena walked through into the next room, which had an air of having been long unused, though it was furnished as a dining-room. There was no corridor. It led directly into the front room, a parlour which had the main door in one corner, opening straight into a small porch. Old-fashioned furniture and ornaments filled the room so that there was only a narrow path through to the door.

When Justin joined her, he said, “I was investigating the pantry. There are plenty of dry goods there, still in a usable state, I should think.”

“I like this house.”

He turned slowly round, examining the front room. “Yes, so do I. Let’s check upstairs.”

Upstairs proved to have three bedrooms, the front one clearly having been used by the old lady. The bed was no longer made up but was covered by a very pretty patchwork quilt. The other two bedrooms were smaller, had ornaments sitting neatly on starched, crocheted mats on the dusty surfaces, and again, beds covered by patchwork quilts. But they felt long unused.

When they went down to the kitchen, Serena looked at him. “I don’t need to stay in a hotel when I have a whole house of my own here.”

He frowned. “I don’t think you should move in until I’ve sorted out the legal situation.”

She shook her head, feeling stubborn for some reason. “There’s coal and wood, so I can light a fire. I’ll have to go back for my holdall and basket, and I can buy some food at the same time, then I’ll spend tonight here.”

Justin tried to persuade her to wait until the next day, but she wouldn’t change her mind, so he helped her to retrieve her things from his rooms and buy food, then drove back with her to Horton, to make sure she settled in safely. He didn’t know why, but he felt uneasy about her doing this.

Serena waved goodbye to him then turned to go back into the cottage only to find that Mrs Diggle had come out to see her.

“Excuse my asking, miss, but will you be staying here now? Only we keep an eye on the place and we need to know.”

“Yes. And thank you for keeping an eye on things. I’m grateful. Perhaps tomorrow I can come and ask your help about where to buy my food, and so on?”

Mrs Diggle beamed at her. “I’d be honoured to help you, miss, and if you don’t think it forward of me, I’ll send our Charlie across with a piece of my apple pie for your tea. I’ve just been baking.”

“That’d be wonderful.”

While they were talking, a cab had driven along the lane and stopped beside them. Serena looked at it, half-expecting Justin to pop out again with further news. Instead, a much younger gentleman opened the door and came across to join them.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, ladies, but I wondered if you’d be interested in some apples, Mrs Diggle? Only there are more than we need at the Hall and some are still hanging on the trees.”

“I’d be delighted, sir. We don’t want good food going to waste. Don’t leave yet, miss!”

Serena turned round.

“This is your nearest neighbour up the lane, Mr Graye who lives at the Lodge just now, but is moving into the Hall. Mr Graye, this is Miss Fleming, who’s just moved into the cottage next to us, which she owns.”

He had been smiling, but the smile faded at the sound of her name and he inclined his head only very slightly, not moving forward to shake her hand. 

Nodding in return she went inside, weary now and too tired to puzzle over why a complete stranger would look at her so coldly.

* * * *

When the door had closed behind her new neighbour, Mrs Diggle looked at Marcus and said quietly, “Mr Redway brought her here—and he asked me to keep an eye on her, to let him know if there was any trouble.”

“You know about whose daughter she is?”

She nodded. “Yes. But I speak as I find and let alone she came with Mr Redway, she spoke to me as civil as you like.”

“Hmm.”

“Mr Fleming owns this row of houses, all except the end cottage,” Mrs Diggle went on. “Luckily my Harold keeps our place in good order, because
he
won’t spend a farthing on repairs.”

“I wonder why she’s come to live here when she has a comfortable home with her father?”

Mrs Diggle shrugged. “She’ll no doubt tell me when she knows me better. People do. Would you want to live with
him?
” 

“Definitely not. But then he isn’t my father.”

Chapter 4

Marcus frowned as he got out of the cab at the Lodge. “What do you make of that—Fleming’s daughter moving into a workman’s cottage?” he asked Vic.

“I don’t know. She doesn’t look like a rich man’s daughter though, does she?”

“No, anything but. Which makes it all the stranger. I don’t like the man. I’ve met him once or twice and he’s a cold fish. And it was apparently he who encouraged my cousin to gamble—and won most of the money Lawrence lost.”

“Fleming’s tenants aren’t fond of him, either. Pearl’s parents have to do all the upkeep themselves if they want to keep their cottage watertight.”

“Well, I suppose it’s no business of ours what Miss Fleming does.” Marcus looked down at his leg and frowned. “I have to go back into town tomorrow so that the doctor can tell the District Nurse how he wants her to dress my injuries. Things were more convenient when we had a doctor in the village. I’m sorry you have to keep driving me to and from Tinsley like this, Vic. I’d hoped to provide more interesting work for you.”