A Stranger in Honeyfield

by Anna Jacobs

  He didn’t want to make her suspicious in case he had to come back and ferret around for more information, so he forced down the pudding and left with a cheery wave.

  Once outside he groaned and massaged his belly. He didn’t normally eat even half this amount, but it had been well worth it. Going to the pub after the local labourers would have finished their working day had been a master stroke, if he said so himself.

  By the time he stopped his car outside his house he had severe indigestion but it was worth it. He had a feeling the landlady’s information would be helpful and doubted she’d tell anyone what they’d been discussing, because then she might have to mention the tip he’d given her. In his experience, married women of her class kept any extra money they acquired well away from their husbands.

  Honeyfield, eh? He knew where it was but had never visited it. He’d take a little trip out tomorrow and see what he could find. Or perhaps he’d send his manservant. Yes, that would be better. Dibble hadn’t enough to occupy him, but Francis didn’t want to lose his services so he’d kept him on. He now owed the poor chap quite a few months’ wages, but he’d make it plain that these could only be paid after he married Georgina.

  Elderly though he might be, there was no one like Dibble for ferreting out information, which was another reason for keeping him on. Francis would even let him take the car because Dibble was a careful driver and loved going for a run in the car.

  He nodded in satisfaction. He’d get that bitch back and make her sorry she’d humiliated him at Philip’s funeral, then teach her to obey him in future.

  But best of all, after he’d married her, he’d get hold of her money. Well, his share of her money. Unfortunately, he needed Mrs Cotterell and Spencer’s help to arrange all this, not to mention their presence at the wedding so that everything appeared respectable.

  Spencer didn’t wake till long after his usual time for breakfast and only then because someone started hammering on his bedroom door.

  ‘Mr Spencer! Mr Spencer! Are you awake, sir?’

  Groaning as he moved and caused pain to stab through his head, he rolled out of bed and opened the door. ‘What the hell is it, Olga? Is the house burning down?’

  She scowled at him. ‘The mistress was worried about you staying in bed so long and sent me to check that you were all right.’

  ‘Of course I am. Tell her I had a poor night’s sleep and am still making up for it.’ He turned to go back into his room.

  ‘Sorry, sir, but madam was most insistent. She wants to see you as soon as possible.’

  ‘Oh, does she?’ He rubbed his aching forehead and cursed his own folly for drinking so deeply last night. It never agreed with him, but sometimes he had a fit of what-the-hells and got drunk anyway, numbing the pain of life in the way other men often did. At least the alcohol shut off that little voice in his brain that sneered at everything he did.

  It took him a while to wash and dress, and he cut himself shaving because his hands were trembling.

  When he joined his mother in the breakfast parlour his head was still thumping and although he managed to say, ‘Good morning, Mother,’ politely enough, he didn’t say anything else till he’d poured himself a cup of tea with plenty of milk to cool it down. He put several spoonfuls of sugar in it and took two or three big mouthfuls.

  ‘I gather you were drinking brandy last night, Spencer. That was stupid of you. You know it doesn’t agree with you. You look absolutely dreadful. I shall tell Olga not to bring it to you in future.’

  ‘I feel dreadful and my head’s thumping, so if you could speak more quietly, I’d be grateful. Tell her what you want. If I want some I’ll go and buy my own.’

  She scowled at him but thankfully did moderate her tone. ‘I want to go to look over my new house and I don’t want the chauffeur spying on me, so I’ve decided you can drive me there.’

  He thought for a minute, nodded incautiously and winced. ‘Happy to do that.’ She looked like a fat old hen, though better with her teeth in again.

  ‘When I saw the Jones woman in Swindon the other day,’ he began, ‘there was something else.’

  ‘What else was there? Why didn’t you tell me everything?’

  ‘I didn’t think it relevant but now I do.’

  He smiled, let his words hang fire between them for a moment, then tossed the verbal grenade at her. ‘Tesworth was with her.’

  ‘Tesworth? I thought he’d have left her to it after the memorial service.’ She paused and stared at him. ‘The child couldn’t be his, could it?’

  ‘No. Philip was his best friend, more like a brother. Take my word for it, a gentleman like him would never betray a friend so close to him. I don’t know what his interest is now, though. Philanthropy? Or does he fancy her as well? She isn’t bad-looking, you have to admit.’

  ‘If you like that blowsy sort. Did you follow them? Where is she living now, do you know?’

  ‘I don’t. I was going to follow them but unfortunately my car was parked some distance away from theirs. She’s still driving Philip’s car, by the way. They passed me as I was going back to get my car but they didn’t see me. By the time I got mine started they’d disappeared. I took the main road north, which was the direction they were heading, but there was no sign of them, so they must have turned off down a side road.’

  ‘I suppose we’d better hire a detective and set him to find her.’

  ‘Let me try first. After all, the baby won’t arrive for three or four months yet, from the size of her belly. I know a chap who would keep an eye on her quietly.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘And anyway, you wanted me to take you to that house you insisted on buying, didn’t you? Why you wanted the place, I still can’t figure.’

  ‘I told you: leave that to me and don’t poke your nose into it. You do not wish to upset your father.’

  Well, that was one thing Spencer could agree with her about, especially now that his father was being more generous. ‘I’ll take you over there this afternoon, Mother, then I’ll go for a drive and make a start of searching the nearby villages for that bitch. I’d notice the car and know its number plate. I’ll come back for you after a couple of hours. How’s that?’

  She nodded and stopped talking at him for a while, looking as if she was thinking hard as she covered every inch of her toast meticulously in jam. Wartime shortages were beginning to be annoying, but they weren’t allowed to affect her comforts, whatever the things she wanted cost on the black market.

  He went back to the sideboard for another cup of tea but didn’t eat much. After that he spent the time till they were leaving in his bedroom, lying on the bed, dozing a little, with his alarm clock set to remind him to go down to lunch.

  As the hangover faded, his thoughts turned more and more to that Jones female and how he could turn her condition to his advantage.

  And before they went out, he left a message with the garden lad for his uncle to contact him. If anyone could keep an eye on her, it’d be him. He was the most nondescript-looking chap Spencer had ever seen, and yet one of the most cunning, prepared to do anything for money.

  The countryside was a mass of green still, but no longer the lighter greens of springtime. Hedgerows were bursting with plants and flowers, damn them! Spencer cursed as his eyes streamed and he kept sneezing while exploring one village after another.

  He didn’t see any sign of Philip’s car and he didn’t ask for her by name. He didn’t want anyone warning her that someone was looking for her. All he wanted for the moment was to find her and pay someone to keep an eye on her and let him know when she had the baby.

  When he gave up and went back to Malmesbury he found his mother sitting waiting for him.

  ‘You took long enough!’

  ‘I told you I’d be a couple of hours and you agreed to it.’

  ‘Well, I finished more quickly than I’d expected. Someone has been in this house and gone through the drawers, stolen the things I’d hidden.’
>
  ‘What were these things?’

  She hesitated, then said, ‘Papers. Useful proof of what your father once did in case I ever need to challenge him about it.’

  ‘Oh? Does he know you’ve got them?’

  ‘He’s not sure. I’ve not said anything and shall deny that I have them unless I need to use them.’

  ‘You intrigue me. Are you really going to keep my father in the dark about what’s in these papers?’

  ‘Yes. Believe me, it’s safer for you. I’m going to give my lawyer a letter explaining the whole situation. If anything happens to me unexpectedly, he’ll give it to you and then you’ll have to do what you can. And whatever happens, don’t tell your father about the child. Not yet, anyway.’

  How she loved to scheme and plot, he thought, hoping his scorn hadn’t shown in his face. ‘Well, I’d rather nothing happened to you, Mother, if you don’t mind. It’d be lonely here without you.’

  She blinked hard and looked at him with tears in her eyes. ‘My son, my only son. I’ll make sure you get your inheritance for as long as you need it, Spencer, whatever your father tries to do. After that, who cares what happens to this place?’

  ‘I’m the eldest son, Philip’s dead. Who else could get it?’

  ‘Anyone your father left it to. The estate isn’t entailed.’ She sighed. ‘My life hasn’t worked out as I’d expected. And I wish you’d told me sooner that you can’t father a child, I really do.’

  ‘It’s not something one wishes to broadcast.’

  ‘No. I can see that. But I’m your mother. I should have been told. Anyway, we’ll let the subject drop for the moment. I’m debating whether to ask the police to look into the burglary here.’

  He looked at her in alarm. That would put the cat among the pigeons because he’d been seen in the house. ‘Do you really have to?’

  ‘I’m thinking seriously about it.’

  ‘I don’t think you should.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You don’t want to draw Father’s attention to this house, surely?’

  That made her think, he could see.

  ‘Oh really, Spencer. I don’t know what you’re making such a fuss for.’

  ‘Promise you won’t do it.’

  She looked at him suspiciously. ‘You know something. Tell me.’

  ‘I’ve heard something,’ he said carefully. ‘Leave it with me for a few days and I’ll investigate further. I won’t be able to do that if you call in the police.’

  If he hadn’t spent the day feeling so bad, he’d have had a couple of brandies that night as well. But he didn’t dare. The drinking bout had made him feel worse this time than ever before.

  One of the things he’d hated Philip for most had been his good health and abundant energy.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dibble didn’t bring the car back till late that evening. He came to see Francis straight away, smelling of beer and swaying slightly. He’d better not have scraped the car! ‘Well? Did you find her?’

  ‘I’ve not seen the lady you’re searching for, sir, but I have found out about the Greyladies Trust and its house in Honeyfield. I followed your example and went to the local pubs.’

  ‘Yes. I can tell.’

  His tone was aggrieved. ‘You can’t sit in one unless you buy a drink.’

  ‘No. I suppose not. Go on.’

  Dibble explained about the house in Honeyfield, which was supposed to be a convalescent home but was actually a place where women in trouble could seek shelter. ‘Unfortunately, it’s impossible to get near it. It’s set in huge gardens surrounded by high walls and there’s a heavy gate at the entrance that’s locked at night.’

  ‘Draw me a map of the village and show me where this house is situated.’

  ‘I’m not very good at drawing, sir.’

  ‘Do your best.’ He studied the resultant mess of scribbles and alterations. It wasn’t very clear, but it’d help because he’d have to go there at night. He had pretty good night vision, had always thought he’d make a good spy. He only hoped they didn’t have a big dog at this place, though. He didn’t like dogs and they didn’t like him, for some reason.

  Well, he wouldn’t go till the following night. He needed to fill up the car with petrol first and sort out a gun – not to kill anyone with but to protect himself or threaten someone with. And he’d think carefully about what else might come in handy.

  The following evening Francis drove to Honeyfield, left the car outside the village and made his way to Honeyfield House. The map might have been poorly drawn but the verbal descriptions Dibble had supplied made up for its deficiencies. As he’d learnt the necessary route by heart, Francis found his way there easily enough.

  There was indeed a gate and it had a huge padlock on it. But it was of wrought iron and easy to climb over. There was no gatehouse, so in his opinion the gate was a waste of time. No, not quite. It’d keep out vehicles. If he was able to kidnap Georgina, he’d have to drag her nearly half a mile to get her to the car.

  He listened carefully for a dog barking but there was no sound of that, so he made his way slowly and carefully along the edge of the drive towards the house.

  When he got there, he saw that they had the curtains drawn tightly over all the windows, even in the kitchen, with not a chink to peep through. And a large man seemed to be keeping guard to the rear next to what had once been the stables but didn’t seem to be any longer. There were no sounds of horses moving about inside the low building.

  He could see the man quite clearly by the light of a lantern outside the kitchen door. He was sitting on a bench opposite the door on the other side of the rear yard. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up and a cudgel propped nearby, and looked more as if he was courting than keeping guard, because he was chatting to a fat woman.

  She too had rolled up her sleeves and had surprisingly muscular arms for a woman. She seemed to be making her companion laugh a lot.

  Not much chance of getting past them both and he’d bet the woman would pile into the fight if he tried to knock the man unconscious.

  What the hell was he going to do? Wait a while and watch what they did, he decided. It was all he could do. He changed his position a couple of times, not enjoying this part of the evening. He hated having to keep still.

  The woman leant across to the man, not joking now, and whispered in his ear. Probably arranging to sleep with him, Francis thought sourly. He could do with a woman himself. It’d been a while.

  The man looked at her in surprise, then gave her a hug and whispered back. Yes, definitely an assignation being planned, Francis decided.

  After that the two of them sat together in silence.

  About ten minutes later the back door of the house opened and a woman poked her head out. ‘Sal! Barbara’s crying.’

  The fat woman got up at once.

  Francis stayed where he was, smiling now. Bingo! Georgina was indeed staying here. Good of her to come out and show herself to him. Saved him a lot of trouble, that did.

  He wasn’t equipped to snatch her tonight, given the circumstances. He’d need help for that. Maybe Spencer would come with him, and they could hire another couple of men. It would be almost like an army exercise. He’d have been good at strategy, though he’d have hated the mud of the trenches.

  He intended to prepare for getting hold of Georgina very carefully. He’d need somewhere to hide her till she could be persuaded to marry him. His present house was too small. The servants would see her.

  Where better than her old home? Yes. That’d be perfect. They could tell people Miss Georgina was sick and being cared for by her mother if anyone asked and then keep her locked in a bedroom, or even the attics or the cellars, wherever was furthest away from the servants. Till she could be persuaded to do what they wanted.

  He edged away and went back to the gate, climbing over it without being challenged by anyone. Ha! The grounds of this place were easy to enter. He’d bet the house would be just as eas
y to break into.

  The large man heeded Sal’s warning that she’d heard something moving in the bushes and it sounded too big to be an animal. She had the best hearing of anyone he knew, so Cole sat and listened with her, nodding to show he’d picked up the faint sounds now. They’d had people try to break in before.

  After Georgie had called Sal in to attend to her daughter, the watcher moved backwards and started to make his way towards the gate, so he must have been reconnoitring.

  Cole followed the faint sounds of movement along the drive. The man was either a fool or overconfident, or both. He made quite a lot of noise.

  Definitely a fool! he quickly decided. Once he was away from the house, the intruder didn’t even try to hide.

  There was enough moonlight for Cole to see that he was tall and thin, and something about his clothing and bearing said he was a gentleman. You could usually tell. Well, they’d had gentlemen try to break into Honeyfield House before and they hadn’t succeeded. Nor would this one if he came back.

  Cole stayed near the gate, watching the intruder walk away down the road. He waited, listening hard, until he heard the sound of a motor car engine starting.

  ‘Just you try to get into our house, mister,’ he muttered as he walked quietly back to his bench. He’d tell Matron about the intruder tomorrow and they’d put a few other measures into operation.

  He leant back and sighed happily. This was the best job he’d ever had. He was treated well, given as much as he wanted to eat and paid regularly.

  And on top of that there was Sal, a fine figure of a woman. He was courting her and he thought he was making progress.

  She’d told him about the rape but said she’d never willingly given her body to anyone except her husband otherwise. If he ever caught up with the sods who’d done it, Cole would make them wince where it hurt a man most.

  Since Sal was a widow, they were both free to marry, so why not propose to her? He didn’t just want her body; he wanted her companionship.