The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  The journey was cheered, however, by the presence of Harry Smethurst. Since the Parliamentary session was almost at an end, Lord Carrbridge had suggested that his friends might enjoy his company and had given him fifty pounds to defray his expenses.

  They planned to stay only a day or two, so all four of them would stay at the Dolphin Hotel, to minimise the disruption to Maria. The hotel was always busy, but when they arrived there was a veritable frenzy of activity in preparation for an assembly that evening.

  “There you are, Meg,” Harry said. “And to think you were afraid Southampton would be very flat after the excitement of London, and now you have something to cast even Marford House into the shade. How can dining with the Marquess and Marchioness of Carrbridge compare with a public ball at a provincial sea port? Just think, if you are especially fortunate, you may be invited to stand up with a bellows-maker or a rat-catcher or an apothecary’s apprentice.”

  “You do talk some nonsense, Harry,” Meg said robustly. “I love a public ball, and shall have no objection to the apothecary’s apprentice if he can dance. It will be glorious to stretch my legs after so many hours confined in a carriage. Sitting still is such a trial to one’s endurance.”

  “I wish I could dance, too,” Nell said wistfully. “We used to attend every assembly here for a while, and they were always great fun. Ah well, one day I shall be out of black.”

  Leaving the valets and Meg’s maid to settle in at the Dolphin, the four walked round the corner to East Street, where Nell fished in her reticule for her door key. Before she could find it, the door was opened by a young footman she had never seen before.

  “Who are you?” she said before she could stop herself.

  “William, madam. Are you wishful to reserve a place?”

  “Reserve a—?” She eyed him in astonishment. “Is Maria at home?”

  “I shall enquire, madam. What name shall I give?”

  Nell burst out laughing. “Good heavens, William, you are very new! Tell her that Mrs Caldicott is here.”

  His eyes widened. “Beg pardon, madam. Please to step inside while I fetch Mrs Delanoy.”

  She laughed again, for who could not laugh at being invited to enter one’s own house? But a footman was unexpected. When had the household become grand enough or wealthy enough to afford to employ a footman? There had certainly been some changes in the short time she had been away.

  They had only to wait a few minutes before Maria appeared, bustling up from the kitchen in her apron, as always, but the gown was a new one, Nell noticed, and her friend wore a rather fine lace-trimmed cap. The two exchanged hugs, Nathan was received with pleased recognition, and Meg and Harry were introduced. William the footman relieved them of hats and gloves and parasols and canes.

  “Oh, Nell!” Maria cried, weeping all over her. “And so fine as you look! What a fetching gown — is it from London?”

  “From Yorkshire, but it has had a little London polish applied to it. But… a footman, Maria?” Nell said. “You are getting very grand. Can we afford it?”

  “Oh, yes! Our card evenings are doing very well, and a manservant adds so much style. We even have a waiting list for places now. Come on up to the drawing room, and let us have some tea.”

  “The drawing room?” Nell said, surprised.

  “Oh, did I not mention it in my letters?” she said airily. “Mr Lloyd wished to use it for his card parties, which means we have to be in and out… and Lydia’s mama is here from Wales, managing the household until Lydia’s confinement, and she saw how silly it was not to use the rooms properly. Here we are.”

  Nell had almost forgotten how elegant her drawing room was. She had supervised the redecoration of it herself when she had first married, and although there was nothing extravagant about it, the room had an air of delicate good taste that pleased her greatly. It had been a great wrench to surrender it to Lydia Lloyd.

  The pianoforte drew her with a powerful attraction. She sat down and ran her fingers over the keys, a smile of pure pleasure on her face. There was no time to play, however, for there was much news to exchange, and although most of it had been conveyed by letter, it was necessary to tell it all again, so that it might be exclaimed over to the proper degree.

  “So Louis is the heir?” Maria said over and over. “He owns a great house? He is a baronet?”

  “Only if we can prove his claim,” Nathan said crisply. “That is why we are here, to look through Captain Caldicott’s effects and see if there might be anything to link him to Felix Harbottle.”

  “Goodness,” Maria said. “So you will have to live up there, Nell… in Yorkshire? With Louis?”

  Nell heard the unspoken question, and answered gently, “Nothing is decided about that, but this house belongs to Louis too, and he will never throw you out, Maria. Besides, you seem to be managing very well without me.”

  “Oh yes, everything is going along swimmingly. We have your share of the proceeds tucked away in the safe. Mr Lloyd will get it for you when he returns from the vintner.”

  “My share of the proceeds?” Nell said, feeling stupid. “This is your business, not mine.”

  “But the house is yours,” Maria said. “We could not operate without it. We charge five shillings for each seat, with a shilling for each of us — Mr Lloyd, for managing the card room and providing the wine, me for the supper, and you for providing the premises. Then a shilling goes to the player with the most fish at the end of the evening. You see? Very equitable.”

  “And the extra shilling?” Nathan said. “You said five shillings, and there are but four accounted for.”

  “To set aside for unforeseen circumstances,” Maria said firmly. “We have thought of everything.”

  “And you are getting along well with the Lloyds?” Nell said carefully. “With Lydia?”

  Maria laughed, and put down her cup. “Nell, Lydia is perfectly charming when you are not around.”

  Nell could not have been more astonished if Maria had slapped her.

  “It is true,” Maria said. “She was always so jealous of you.”

  “Of me? But why? She was the one with the money, the best of the house, the increasing family, the prospects.”

  “But you are a lady. Even when you were… ill, you were so composed, so ladylike. Like a queen, she said. You made her feel like a scullery maid in her own home.”

  “I was always perfectly civil to her,” Nell protested.

  “Precisely. But without you around, and with her mother here to take charge of all those tedious domestic details, like the children and the servants — why, she is perfectly affable. So you see, we are managing quite well without you.”

  They lingered over their tea, but there was no avoiding the moment Nell dreaded, when they had to go upstairs and begin the task of looking through Jude’s things. Maria went back to her kitchen, but the rest of them trooped upstairs, all crowding into the tiny bedroom. Nell shivered as she looked around her at the familiar old furniture. The room looked so shabby to her eyes, and she was ashamed to have her friends see how she had lived. How she might still live, if Louis could not claim the baronetcy after all.

  None of them made any comment on the room. Nathan said briskly, “Shall we start with the locked box?”

  “It is under the bed,” Nell said colourlessly.

  “We will wait outside, so as not to crowd you,” Meg said.

  Nell unlocked the box, then sat on the dressing table stool while Nathan, on his knees, swiftly examined all the contents. From outside the open door came the murmur of low voices, Meg’s high and excitable, Harry’s lower and calmer, punctuated from time to time with gusts of laughter.

  Nell could not decide how she felt. Numb, perhaps. For weeks she had been free — free of the past, free to be herself and to see the colour in the world, to enjoy friendship and music and beauty and the innate goodness of people. She had learnt to smile again, and even to laugh. But now, being once more in that room where all her terrors had
originated, she was crushed. She was nothing.

  “Ah!” Nathan said, with satisfaction. “The book with the payments to ‘EP’. Who was not Felix’s wife, for her surname was Smith. So who was it? Or I should say, who is it, for she was receiving payments as recently as last Christmas. We shall need to find her, whoever she is.”

  “You believe, then, that it must be a woman?” Nell said in a small voice.

  He turned to look at her. “Well… it is hard to see it being a man. Two hundred pounds every quarter — those are living expenses, the cost of a modest establishment. A woman, perhaps two living together, with a manservant, a cook and two or three maids. And a child, perhaps,” he added gently. “A man would have no need to be supported by Felix, for he would have his own income or trade.”

  “Could it be a charitable organisation, perhaps?” she said. “An orphanage, say.”

  “It is possible. However, the initials and the secrecy suggest… other possibilities.”

  “A mistress,” Nell said flatly.

  “That is my guess, although there is always the possibility, however remote, that she is a legal wife. But whatever her status, she must be informed of Felix’s death, and provision made for her and any children.”

  “Of course.”

  “There is nothing else in the box apart from various items of naval uniform,” Nathan said. “Do I have your permission to check the pockets?”

  She nodded, and he began to remove items one by one, carefully examining the seams and sleeves as well as any pockets. Almost at once he found a small silver case. “Felix’s cards,” he said with satisfaction, passing one to Nell. “That is very helpful.”

  Nell gazed at the small square of card with its neatly printed letters. ‘Capt. Felix Harbottle, Royal Navy’ “This is proof, then. Jude truly was Felix.”

  “There is no longer any doubt of it in my mind,” Nathan said. “However, this is still circumstantial. The strongest proof would be a letter written in Felix’s own hand, or a sworn statement before a magistrate or some such. Aha! A letter! Perhaps this is— Oh.”

  His face puzzled, he passed it to Nell, who read, ‘To The Reverend George Lumley or his successor, Bishopswood Cromby Parsonage, Hants.’

  “Why would Jude — or Felix — write to this Mr Lumley?” Nathan said. “Where is Bishopswood Cromby? Oh, I remember — it is by Daveney Hall.”

  “It is,” Nell said. “Mr Lumley is the incumbent there, and he it was who officiated when Jude and I were married. As to why Jude would write to him, and a letter which would only be found after his own death, I cannot even hazard a guess.”

  “Hmm. ‘…or his successor’. It is not Mr Lumley himself who is the object, but the present incumbent. A church matter, then,” Nathan said. “A bequest, perhaps, or a request for prayers to be said for him. Not relevant to our quest, but we must call at the church to check the marriage register, so we may hand over this letter then. We can do that on our way back to London.”

  “Mr Lumley will not be there. When Daveney Hall is closed up during the season, the Lumleys all go to stay with Mrs Lumley’s sister. She lives along the coast — Eastbourne or Hastings, somewhere like that. Fresh air and sea bathing.”

  “Well, no matter. We are quite at leisure to wait upon their return. After all, I have been searching for Felix for two years, so a few more weeks is of little consequence. It is only the record of your marriage, after all, so there will be no surprises at Bishopswood Cromby. There is nothing more to be found in the box, and there is no sign of a false bottom or hidden compartment. It grows late. Let us go back to the Dolphin for tonight, and continue our searches tomorrow.”

  “Do you think there is anything more to be found?” Nell said.

  “No,” he said at once. “Anything of significance would have been in this box. However, we must make the effort, just in case.”

  “May I keep this?” she said, gazing at the calling card still in her hand.

  “Of course,” Nathan said. “The whole case is yours. Here...” He pressed it into her hands. “It is a fine piece of silver, with his initials on it, see? ‘FCH’ — Felix Charles Harbottle.”

  “Thank you,” she said, clutching it tightly, another symbol of the part of her husband’s life that she had known nothing about.

  That evening, they dined at the Dolphin Hotel, together with Maria and her daughters, Mr Lloyd, his wife and her mother, after which Lucy, Jane and the Lloyds returned to the house, and the others went off to dance and be happy. Nell sat in their private parlour pretending to write to Louis, and in reality listening to the music from the assembly room, her feet forlornly tapping out the steps, while at the same time feeling guilty for wishing she were dancing. Widowhood, she decided, was unexpectedly complicated.

  26: To London Again

  Nell slept badly that night, but she imputed it to the melancholy task of trawling through Jude’s effects, combined with being woken by Meg returning from the ball, humming loudly, at some desperate hour of the night. After that, Nell had lain awake for hours, wondering what would happen if Louis’ claim to the baronetcy could not be proved. Would they have to return to Southampton for good, and live again in the East Street house, with its vitality-sucking aura? Even if she could bear that, the prospect of struggling on a tiny income again and having to consider every penny spent was dispiriting. There was enough, and they would not starve, but for a few glorious weeks she had lived a different life, the life she was born to, and she had wallowed in the luxury. It would be hard indeed to give it up a second time.

  The morning saw a return to East Street, while Nathan worked methodically through all Jude’s clothes, the drawers of the small desk and his single shelf of books in the morning room. He had never been a great reader. Then he checked every piece of furniture for hidden drawers or false bottoms, and tapped methodically at walls and floorboards for secret hiding places. Finding nothing, they went to All Saints’ Church to check the register for the record of Louis’ birth. That done, Nathan said, “Shall we walk down to the river and stretch our legs a little?”

  It was agreed, and so they walked slowly down the High Street, past their hotel and on down to the God’s House Gate and the Beach beyond. Meg was not a person who ambled, so she and Harry tended to shoot ahead and then wait for Nell to catch up before shooting off again. Nathan was gentlemanly enough to adjust his pace to Nell’s, talking easily of the shops they passed and the ball the previous night, unperturbed by her lack of response. He was such undemanding company, seeming to understand her feelings without the need for explanation. She always fell into this gloom when she had been in the East Street house. It horrified her now to recall that she had in the past spent weeks on end trapped there, unable to venture outside until her bruises had healed, and even when she was physically recovered, often too downhearted to leave the house. How had she survived? Yet somehow she had, curled up in her shell like a snail.

  When they reached the Beach, Meg and Harry strode on, engrossed in each other, but Nathan suggested that he and Nell should sit on one of the many seats that were conveniently placed along the path. For a while they said nothing, watching the river roll swiftly by, and the clouds drifting overhead. Such a peaceful scene, and as always her gloom was gradually worn away by the charms of the vista.

  “You are very quiet,” Nathan said after a while. “Does it bring back bad memories, the house?”

  She nodded, then said, “It is not only that. If it cannot be proved that Jude was Felix, then we shall have to return here to live on an income of only two hundred pounds a year. I know I should be grateful to have even that much, for many people have far less, and indeed I myself had less only a few weeks ago, but it still feels like poverty to me. It is so disheartening to be poor. One has neither the time nor the energy for anything beyond the merest necessities for survival. Every day becomes a battle between opposing needs. Shall we have beef today, or mutton again, or perhaps no meat at all? And if we buy meat, then the purcha
se of new shoes must be put off. One goes to church to pray, not for salvation and forgiveness, but for a mild winter, please God, so that the coal will last. It is miserable, utterly miserable.”

  “I can imagine,” he said, and his voice was infused with sympathy. “I have never been poor, but I thank God every day for the comfort of wealth. It salves my conscience somewhat to try not to spend it frivolously, and to do a little good with it, where I can. But you do not need to be poor, Nell. Whatever the outcome of our quest, Jessica would be delighted to offer you and Louis a home for as long as you wish.”

  “And live on her charity? I think not.”

  “She would not see it so. She adores Louis already, and you would make an excellent companion for her. Aunt Amelie will not live for ever, after all. You would be giving charity far more than receiving it.”

  Nell said nothing, knowing it to be true, and yet she would still feel beholden.

  “Alternatively, you could marry a rich man,” he said in genial tones. She looked at him suspiciously, but his face was bland, and he was not even looking at her, but gazing out across the river. “You are young and beautiful and well-bred,” he went on. “Plenty of men would be delighted to take you to wife. You would live as a lady, as you were born to do, and Louis would have a father again.”

  Still his tone was level, but she could not forget that he had already proposed to her once, albeit only in response to her desperation when she thought she would lose Louis. Was he thinking now of himself, or had he given up that idea?

  Yet it was impossible, and if he had any idea of marriage in his head, it would be as well to disabuse him of the notion at once. “I do not wish to marry again,” she said in a low voice.

  “Oh, not yet, naturally,” he began. “But when you are out of mourning—”

  “Never!” she cried. “I shall never marry again.”

  His head spun round to look her, and abruptly the easy tone was gone, his eyes afire as he gazed at her. “Never?” he said hoarsely. “You are too young to turn your back on matrimony entirely, Nell. You have had a difficult time, but—”