The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Yes, dear,” Maria said sadly.

  It was three more days before word came, the news that set all to rest. The third survivor was a passenger, a clerk called Ellsworthy. Everyone else on board was lost to the sea.

  Nell was indeed a widow.

  5: Condolences (March)

  “I have two pounds three shillings and fourpence,” Nell said despairingly. “No, here is another farthing, so two pounds three shillings and fourpence farthing, to last us until Lady Day. Another month, and then at least I shall have the Lloyds’ rent, but I have no idea how far that will stretch. Jude always dealt with that sort of thing.”

  “Oh dear,” Maria said. “Is there nothing else beyond the rent money? No other income?”

  “My settlement,” Nell said slowly. “Fifteen thousand pounds was settled on me, but I have no idea how to get the income from it, or how much it would be. What am I to do, Maria?”

  “You must talk to Mr Vessey at the bank. He is such a pleasant man, and so kind to me after John died. Even before John’s affairs were settled, he was so good as to advance some money from the account, and he arranged my little annuity for me. I am certain he will do the same for you.”

  “Will you come with me? I… I have never entered a bank before.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  “Thank you,” Nell whispered.

  The bank was not quite so terrifying as her imagination had made it. Once she had passed through its portal into the cool, high-ceilinged interior, and an underling had rushed forward to attend to her, and lead her across the chequered marble floor to Mr Vessey’s inner sanctum, she was able to breathe and hold her head high. She was Miss Godney of Daveney Hall again, and Mr Vessey, however imposing he or his premises might be, was no more than a servant, managing her money in order to provide her with funds when she needed them.

  This happy notion lasted a mere two minutes, until greetings had been exchanged, condolences offered and chairs arranged, and Nell had explained her predicament.

  “I should love to help, my dear madam,” Mr Vessey said brightly, “but there is no money in your husband’s account.”

  “No money?” Nell croaked, her spirits plummeting.

  “Less than none, in point of fact,” the banker said, with an incongruously cheerful smile. “The account is in debit to the amount of twenty seven pounds.”

  “In debit?” Nell replied, stupefied.

  “To the amount of twenty seven pounds, yes,” Mr Vessey said, the smile widening. “But have no fear, dear madam. We will not expect repayment until the quarter end.”

  “Quarter end…”

  “Indeed. When the other repayment falls due.”

  “The other repayment?”

  “For the mortgage on the house. You did not know? Oh dear me.” And he laughed. He actually laughed.

  “But what am I to do?” she whispered.

  “You need an attorney,” he said. Then he laughed again.

  The attorney did not laugh, which was a mercy, but his advice was no more reassuring, for all that.

  “It is… awkward,” Mr Pierce said, peering at her over his thick spectacles. “Very awkward. There are procedures, you understand, Mrs Caldicott. Processes to be followed. There is no body, do you see? No body. When one has a body, one knows that a man is dead. There is a funeral. A funeral, Mrs Caldicott. Then the will may be read, and the estate wound up and the bequests handed out. Do you see?”

  “I do see, yes, but I must have money to live upon, Mr Pierce. The settlement made upon me at the time of my marriage is my own money, and I should be able to draw upon it, regardless of the presence or absence of my husband’s body.”

  “I know nothing of your marriage settlement, Mrs Caldicott. There is no mention of it in your husband’s will, so one must presume that—”

  “No mention of it?”

  “Not a word. Was it a large settlement?”

  “Fifteen thousand pounds.”

  “Ah!” He steepled his hands together, and smiled. “Then there will be a trust of some sort, the capital bound up so that your husband could only enjoy the interest, do you see? Your father would have arranged it so. You should apply to him for information, Mrs Caldicott.”

  “My father is dead, Mr Pierce. My older brother has Daveney Hall now.”

  “Your brother is Sir James Godney?” She nodded. “Then you must apply to your brother, do you see? Apply to your brother, Mrs Caldicott.”

  “My brother,” she repeated stupidly, wondering how on earth she could apply to a man she had not seen or heard from for nine years. “We are… not on good terms since my marriage.”

  “Ah. But nevertheless, he must be consulted now. After all, your husband appointed him as your son’s guardian.”

  ~~~~~

  MARCH

  Nathan made his plans calmly, without haste. Everything must be orderly, carefully arranged so as to avoid unexpected mishaps as far as possible. He did not, therefore, rush off to Southampton the very day after Lady Henry’s dinner. Instead, he spent the day writing ahead to the inns on his route to ensure a change of horses would be available when he needed them, writing to Yorkshire to apprise his aunt of his change of plans, and calling in at Weston’s to collect the coat he had ordered on his previous stay in the capital. He spent one night on the road, to be certain of arriving in Southampton early in the morning of his second day of travel. Having secured a room at the Dolphin Hotel, he then went directly to East Street and lifted the crepe-wrapped knocker.

  The same neat maid answered the door, her face pale under the cap. Becky, was it?

  “Good morning, Becky. Is your mistress at home?”

  “Oh, no, sir. No, that she ain’t. Isn’t.”

  “I understand that she may not be receiving callers, under the circumstances, but—”

  “No. She ain’t here at all, sir. Gone away, sir.”

  “Ah.” A moment’s thought brought to mind the black-haired friend. “Is Mrs Delanoy at home?”

  “I… don’t know, sir.”

  “Would you be so good as to ask her if she would favour me with just a few minutes of her time? If she is busy in the kitchen, I am quite happy to see her there.”

  She giggled at that, and bobbed a curtsy. “Please to wait, sir,” she said, directing him to a chair in the hall, before scuttling away to the nether parts of the house.

  He walked about, examining a pair of cheap candelabra and an ornate silver salver on the console, and then adjusting his neckcloth in the mirror above it. It was an odd thing, but his neckcloth never stayed quite as he liked it. He was not vain, and he would love to be able to set himself straight for the day and then not think about his appearance again, but somehow it never quite worked out that way. A neckcloth was such an important part of a gentleman’s attire that he felt drawn to check on its state whenever he passed a mirror, and then there was always some rearrangement to be done.

  A girlish voice floated down the stairs. “Oh! Oh, is that Mr Harbottle?”

  He turned, to see the lodger delicately descending, her skirts lifted just enough to display richly embroidered slippers and a pair of well-turned ankles.

  “It is indeed,” he answered, making her only a small bow, for they had not yet been formally introduced.

  “You will remember me, I am sure. We met when you called on Nell Caldicott before. I am Mrs Gwilliam Lloyd. Are you here to see Nell? She is not here. You heard about her husband, I suppose?”

  “Indeed. I came to pay my condolences.”

  “She has gone to her brother for help. That husband of hers left her in something of a pickle.” She giggled, one hand covering her mouth. “Poor Nell! Although Mr Lloyd says that she is better off without him, but not if she is to be poor. Even more poor, I should say, for they never seemed to have any money. Some men are just feckless, aren’t they? But she is one of the Godneys of Daveney Hall, so I daresay she will never starve, her and that scrawny son of hers. Such an ill-favoured child!”<
br />
  “I thought him a pleasant boy,” Nathan said, seething at such disparagement of the Caldicotts. “A little thin, perhaps, but such quickness of mind! He will do well, I am sure.”

  She tittered, and looked at him from beneath her lashes. “Oh, I say nothing against him, nothing at all, for he has never been taught any better, but Nell… so superior, and her husband nothing but a common sailor. In such cases, a woman should not give herself airs, should she? It merely sets people’s backs up. Everyone say so, that she thinks herself too grand for Southampton society, just because her father was a baronet.”

  That was too much for Nathan. “It is not everyone who is capable of appreciating the more refined manners of those raised in the upper levels of society,” he said. “Mrs Caldicott is far superior to any other person I have met in this town.” And then, just in case she should be too stupid to take the point, he added firmly, “Far superior.”

  She flushed, and was about to retort when she saw Mrs Delanoy standing outside the baize door. With a huff of annoyance and a swirl of skirts, she flounced back up the stairs without another word.

  Mrs Delanoy laughed. “Oh, excellent, sir! I have not enjoyed a put down so much in years. Will you step into the kitchen for a moment? I have a cake that must go into the hot oven right away.”

  So Nathan stepped into the kitchen, and sat for an hour eating Bath buns fresh from the oven and drinking his own tea and talking to Mrs Delanoy as she and her daughters moved efficiently about, preparing the dinner. He learnt that the house was mortgaged, but Nell had a settlement of fifteen thousand pounds.

  “That’s a good sum, sir, isn’t it?” Mrs Delanoy said. “She’ll be comfortably off with that, and her brother will take care of Louis’ education, since he’s his guardian.”

  He was reassured. Nevertheless, when he returned to his hotel, he wrote a long letter to Nell, offering his deepest sympathy for her tragic loss, and assuring her that he remained her friend, that he would be delighted to offer any assistance she might need and that any correspondence from her would receive his earliest attention. He then visited the bank to ensure that there would be no foreclosure on the mortgage without notifying him. Only then did he make his departure from Southampton.

  ~~~~~

  Nell had forgotten just how long the Daveney Hall driveway was. As she peered through the gates, it meandered away through the trees and vanished into the gloom beneath them. The house was out of sight. If she were in a snug carriage, with a warm brick to her feet and rugs about her, it would be no distance, but on foot, on a bitterly cold March afternoon, with a sprinkling of snow lying, and Louis already exhausted, it would be a long, slow crawl.

  She jangled the bell beside the gate, and waited. After a few minutes, an elderly man emerged from the lodge and peered at her through bushy eyebrows. The eyebrows shot upwards. “Miss Nell?” he said disbelievingly. “Surely it can’t be!”

  “Hello, Tom. How are you?”

  “It is you! Lord bless me, come inside at once, Miss Nell. This wind’s bitter. And never tell me this is your boy?” He fiddled with the side gate, throwing it open for them to pass through.

  “Yes, this is Louis. This is Tom Grainger, Louis, the gamekeeper here.”

  “Nay, not any more, Miss Nell. My boy Robbie’s gamekeeper now, although I help out a bit. Keep him straight, you know.”

  “Robbie? I always thought it would be Andy who would take over from you.”

  A shadow crossed his face. “Aye, so did we all, but he went off to fight the French six years ago last autumn, and never came home. Well now, Miss Nell and Master Louis, come you inside and sit by the fire for a bit. Dolly’ll be thrilled to see you. We talk about you often and often, so we do, wondering how you’re getting on. Come away in.”

  Nell had no objection to a sit by the fire to warm them up, and maybe one of Dolly’s famous rock cakes. It was pleasant to be fussed over like a child, and their kindness was balm to her lowered spirits, especially when they realised she wore black.

  “Aye, the sea’s a cruel way for a man to earn his bread,” Tom said, when she had explained.

  “So how did you get here, Miss Nell?” Dolly asked, as she ladled hot soup into bowls for them. “A post chaise would have taken you to the door, not dropped you at the gates, and there be no stage coach along this road.”

  “We were dropped at Otterbourne,” Nell said, not quite liking to admit that she could not even afford the common stage, and their first ride was a wagon of fish barrels. “Then Will Horrocks gave us a lift.”

  “What, you rode on a farm cart!” Tom said. “Well, now, that’s not right for a Godney of Daveney Hall.”

  Dolly eyed her sadly. “Poor dears. Tom, you go and get out the dog cart for Miss Nell and Master Louis. No need to walk up that long drive,” she added, patting Nell’s hand sympathetically.

  Nell was too grateful to mind them knowing how poor she was.

  Warm, rested and filled with soup, the ride to the front door was sharply cold, but mercifully brief. With a wave of thanks to Tom, Nell and Louis climbed the many steps to the porticoed front door. Louis was silent, as he had been for many days now, ever since he had finally understood that Papa would not be coming home. Nell left him to his thoughts. Her own worries crowded in upon her too closely for her to have much energy to spare for her son. He had brought only one book with him, the history of naval battles given to him by Mr Harbottle, which he had read over and over again. It was squeezed into the top of the portmanteau for easy retrieval when there was a moment spare. It was his greatest comfort, and she blessed the happy thought that had induced Mr Harbottle, a complete stranger to them, to buy such a gift. She wished she could tell him how much pleasure it gave Louis.

  On the top step, she halted. Never before had she been obliged to knock like a casual caller. Like Mrs Sangster, perhaps, rapping imperiously with the head of her cane, or Lady Toogood, with three quick taps — rat-tat-tat, always the same — or the Miss Caudreys, timidly, struggling with the heavy knocker. What kind of caller would Nell be? Imperious or timid?

  She was not obliged to decide, for the high door opened, and a strange butler looked out at her. “Yes, madam?” he said haughtily.

  For a moment Nell was disoriented. Had she mistaken the house? Had James moved away without her knowing? But common sense reasserted itself. Farlow must be elsewhere, and this fellow, however much he looked like a butler, must be only a footman.

  “Where is Farlow?” she said, the thought being uppermost in her mind.

  “Gone, madam. I am butler here now.”

  “And Mrs Farlow?”

  “Also gone. May I help you, madam?”

  “Oh.” That made it awkward. Farlow would have known her instantly, just as Tom and Dolly Grainger had, but now she had to introduce herself, like a stranger. “I am Mrs Caldicott, sister to Sir James. Is he at home?”

  “I am not sure, madam. Do you have a card?”

  Now that was plain rude. “I do not need a card to see my own brother,” she said sharply. “Go at once and tell him his sister and nephew are here! And do not dare to shut the door in my face!” she added, seeing him about to do exactly that. She marched past him into the hall, Louis firmly held in one hand, and the portmanteau in the other. “We will sit on the bench beside the fire and warm ourselves while you inform your master of our arrival. The footman lurking there will ensure we do not steal the candlesticks. Oh — Luke Grainger? Can it be? Good heavens, you were this big the last time I saw you!” She waved a hand vaguely at knee height, laughing.

  As the butler departed in stately resentment, the footman crept out from his hiding place behind a suit of armour. “I’m second footman now,” he said shyly. “Your face looks familiar…”

  “Your ma and pa recognised me at once, Luke. I was Nell Godney in those days. Mrs Caldicott now.”

  “Miss Nell?” His face lit up. “Have you come home at last?”

  If Nell had been the type to cry, that re
mark would have done the job. As it was, she was powerfully affected by the desire to ‘come home’. Not to be Miss Godney again, for those days were gone for ever, but to come to Daveney Hall just occasionally — a week or two every year, perhaps — and be part of the family again, to belong. Sometimes the effort of being a lady without any support and even without money was just too much for her.

  But she could not hope for such an outcome. “Not… not permanently, no. Just for a night or two.”

  “Nell?”

  She rose, knowing his voice at once. “James.” He was older, of course, but she had expected that. The promising young man of three and twenty had become the solid and rather coarse-featured baronet of two and thirty. His clothes were fashionable but ill-suited to his rounded belly and spindly legs. He had always been indolent, preferring his own fireside to more energetic pursuits, but clearly such tendencies had become settled in him now.

  “It is you, but what—?”

  He looked at her with bewilderment, and she could hardly blame him. She had left Daveney Hall nine years ago for the parish church, never to return, or so her father had sworn. Yet here she was.

  He must have registered her blacks, for he said, “Your husband?”

  “Dead. His ship went down.”

  “Oh. I am very sorry for it, but what are you doing here?”

  “I need your help with my financial affairs, that is all. Once everything is sorted out, I shall be gone from here, you may be sure.”

  “What? You want to stay here? That is impossible, you must know that. You are no longer a Godney, Nell. You have no claim on me.”

  “No, but—”

  “It is no good, Nell. You will have to go. I cannot imagine why you thought— But it is impossible. You cannot be admitted. Harper, pray escort my sister from the premises.”

  6: Daveney Hall

  Nell straightened herself to her full height, which was considerable. She was tall enough, in any event, to look her brother in the eye. “I am ashamed of you, James Godney! Is this how you treat someone who comes to you for help? Would you turn away even a stranger without an ounce of Christian charity?”