by Anna Jacobs
When she’d finished answering the questions, Joseph winked at her and gave her a nod, as if to say she’d done it well. She smiled at him, then had to apologise and ask her host to repeat what he’d said.
After a few more shrewd questions, Mr Greenlow shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. ‘It’s a difficult situation to judge. You’d be better if you had someone else to stand as guardian, apart from that woman. If it goes to court, they’re likely to appoint your stepmother to the position. I would have done that myself if I hadn’t met you and found out how well Miss Bowers thinks of you. She’s the best judge of character I know.’
The former schoolteacher smiled ruefully. ‘You can learn a lot about human beings from children, if you’re observant.’
Harriet felt it was important to make sure they all understood one thing. ‘I won’t go back to live with my stepmother, whatever anyone says or does. Apart from the fact that I can’t stand the woman, I wouldn’t be safe living in the same house as Norris.’ She didn’t actually say she would run away, but she could see in their faces that they all knew what her only alternative might be.
When the carriage was brought round to take them home, Miss Bowers whispered to Harriet, ‘You get into the carriage with Joseph. I just want to have a word with Mrs Greenlow, who is a good friend of mine.’
She might have to keep them waiting a few minutes, because she had something to discuss with Mr Greenlow – a possible solution for Harriet. But from what she’d seen, the two young people never had difficulty finding something to chat about, so she was sure they wouldn’t mind how long it took.
After a while Mr Greenlow escorted Miss Bowers out and the two of them stood at the top of the steps leading into the house watching Harriet and Joseph laughing and chatting.
‘You can see that those two are close friends,’ she said softly. ‘It does my heart good to see them. They’ve neither of them had a happy life so far.’
He waggled one finger at her. ‘You’re doing it again. Interfering in people’s lives.’
She chuckled. ‘I only do that when it’s necessary. And I’ve never harmed anyone, have I?’
‘No. But be careful you don’t break the law with this one, my dear. Though I will agree, what you suggest might make a difference. Now, let’s get you safely installed.’ He went to the carriage door, gestured to the groom to move back and helped her into it himself, closing the door and stepping back.
Then he went to find out exactly what his wife thought of Miss Bowers’ suggestion.
Norris arrived in Challerton in a very bad mood on the Wednesday. It’d cost him more than he’d expected to get here and taken longer, too. For the first time, he had begun to doubt what he was doing, but having started, he was damned well going to find out the facts before he gave up on it.
Even if nothing else worked out, he wanted to see what sort of a woman Harriet had grown into, and if she was still as appealing to him as she’d been at fifteen, when he’d first met her. He was going to finish what he’d started with her. He’d never forgotten the feel of her soft body under his, still thought about her lovely hair whenever he saw a red-haired woman in the street.
He intended to pose as a hiker when he got to the village, even though it was a bit early in the year for anyone to go on a walking tour. He’d agreed with the fellow who’d brought him to pick him up in a couple of hours, and to wait for him, if necessary, where the road from the village met the main road to Swindon.
The first thing he saw as he turned towards the village was a big house on the left. It looked very old. A lad was passing so he stopped him to ask, ‘What’s that place called?’
The lad gave him a suspicious stare and started to edge away.
Norris grabbed his shoulder. ‘Tell me what it’s called!’
‘Greyladies.’ He again tried to move away, but Norris dragged him back. ‘I’ll give you threepence if you tell me more about the place and who lives there.’
The lad brightened and stopped struggling. ‘Latimers live there.’
‘Ah. And which Latimers are living there at the moment?’
‘Just one. Miss Latimer.’
‘Old lady, is she?’
‘No. The old one died. This one’s younger. She’s just inherited it.’
Norris was so astonished by the implications of this, given the size of the house, that he couldn’t speak for a moment. Then he saw the lad looking at him hopefully and fished in his pocket for a threepenny bit, holding on to it as he asked, ‘How old is the new one, exactly, and what does she look like?’
‘She’s got red hair – well, reddish, not ginger. I only seen her once, though, and not close. She’s not as old as my mum.’
‘That’s good enough.’ Norris tossed the coin in the air and watched the lad catch it and run off.
He stood by the gate for a few minutes, staring at the house. It was big. Surely Harriet couldn’t have inherited a place like this? He’d have gone down the drive to look at it more closely, but he didn’t want her to see him. And anyway, it didn’t seem to be a very welcoming place.
But who else could the new owner be but Harriet, with that age and description?
He whistled softly. If what the lad said was true, Norris and his ma were going to live soft for the rest of their days.
The lad turned and ran back into the village, intent on spending his windfall on some sweets before his mother could take it off him.
Mr Pocock stared at him when he plonked the money down on the counter. ‘Where did you get that from, Jimmy Taylor? Last I heard, your mother hadn’t enough to feed you properly.’
A customer moved closer. ‘Did you steal it?’
‘No, I didn’t. A man give it to me.’
‘What for?’
‘Tellin’ him about Miss Latimer an’ Greyladies.’
The shopkeeper and his customer exchanged startled glances, then the customer moved to stand between the lad and the door.
‘Come into the back,’ Mr Pocock said. ‘I’ll give you a liquorice stick if you do.’
Jimmy scowled at him, sensing a trick. ‘Why?’
‘I want to ask you some questions, too.’ He reached into a jar and took out one of the twig-like sticks of liquorice root, much beloved by village children for chewing on.
Hardly had he got Jimmy in the back than the customer called out, ‘There’s a stranger coming down the street.’
Mr Pocock looked at the boy, thrust the liquorice root into his hand and said to his wife. ‘See Jimmy stays here. And if you’re quiet, Jimmy, I’ll give you another stick after the man leaves.’
He went back into the shop, all smiles as he faced the stranger, even though he was suspicious of anyone asking about Miss Latimer, after what Miss Bowers had said.
He wasn’t surprised when the man bought a bar of Fry’s Cream chocolate and lingered to ask questions.
‘I don’t know anything about the new owner,’ he lied. ‘My wife says she’s about thirty and ugly with it.’
‘The sign says you do cups of tea.’
‘Only in the summer. Not much call for it at this time of year.’
‘I could murder a cup of tea.’
‘Two shillings.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve not got help so it’s a lot of trouble, takes me away from my work. Two shillings or nothing.’
Norris scowled but paid, sitting at the little table in one corner to drink the tea to the last drop.
When he stood up, he asked directions to the abbey, pretending he wanted to look round it. As if he cared about sodding ruins!
He slouched off, wondering who to believe. Usually children told you the truth, as long as you didn’t frighten them.
He hadn’t liked the looks of that shopkeeper, either. All smiles but slippery as an eel when it came to talking about the big house.
Was he reading more into the situation than he should? How could a girl like Harriet inherit a big old house like that? No, it wasn�
��t really likely, much as he’d love it to be true. Things like that only happened in fairy tales.
A cold spot hit him on the face, followed by others. Damnation! It was coming on to rain. He pulled out his pocket watch and glared at it. Over an hour to go before the carter would be returning.
He looked round for somewhere to shelter and found a three-sided wooden hut near a gate leading into a bare field. It was the sort of place where farm labourers sheltered from the weather, he reckoned, and thank goodness for it.
Sighing, he sat down on the rough bench. Coming here hadn’t helped as much as he’d expected. He wasn’t really sure of the facts. The shopkeeper had laughed at what the boy had told him and why should the fellow want to deceive a stranger like him?
No, he must be imagining things because he wanted Harriet to have inherited money.
He heard a carriage coming along the lane and watched it pass by, envying those inside. Then he gasped as he saw that one of them was Harriet, sitting there being driven along like Lady Muck. He didn’t see what the two other people looked like, just sat very still watching her as the carriage drove slowly past along the narrow, rutted lane. He stayed in the shadows at the back of the hut, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
When the vehicle had gone, he laughed, slapping his thighs and making crowing noises. It was her. It was definitely her.
Raising his eyes to the sky, he said out loud, ‘Thank you for the rain. I’d have missed her otherwise.’
So the lad had told the truth and Harriet was the new owner of Greyladies.
Why had the shopkeeper lied, though? Perhaps he hadn’t seen Harriet, only heard about her. Yes, that’d be it.
Norris punched one hand into the other, doing it again and again, laughing. Just wait till he saw that bloody lawyer. Just wait till he saw Harriet.
He was going to get hold of that big house – him, Norris Harding. He was going to be rich.
There was one obvious way to make sure of that, a way that would mean nobody could ever take it away from him: he’d have to marry her. And he wouldn’t mind, either. Harriet had grown into a fine-looking young woman.
She might say no at first, but his mother was going to be her guardian, and since she’d be able to live with Harriet, so would he.
And if he planted a baby in her, she’d soon change her mind about marrying him. Women always did, because no one wanted to be landed with a bastard.
When William Dalton read the curt note from Harriet’s lawyer saying he couldn’t afford the time to visit Hampshire, he turned dark red with rage.
His wife, who was sitting at the breakfast table with him, asked, ‘What’s wrong, dear?’
‘That lawyer chappie is refusing to visit me here.’
‘Well, you’re not one of his clients, after all.’
‘But I’m dealing with one of his clients.’
‘Harriet isn’t here any longer, so you’re not dealing with her. William, do be sensible. It’s not worth all this fuss.’
‘I may be forced by circumstances beyond my control to live out my days in poverty in the country, but I am a gentleman born and bred, and I will not let my standards slip.’
Not for the first time, she cursed their eldest son, who had brought all this on. Selwyn was still continuing to live beyond his means and she had no doubt that when the house passed to him, he’d have to sell it. And where would that leave her, if she outlived her husband?
‘William …’
‘Mmm?’ He opened another letter.
‘I’ve been thinking. About Selwyn.’
‘Ungrateful pup. How I sired such a fool, I don’t know.’
‘Do you think you should still leave the house to him? I’m sure he’ll only sell it because he’ll be even deeper in debt by then.’
William stared at her as if she were a complete stranger, giving her a cold, unfriendly glance. Then he said slowly and distinctly, ‘Selwyn’s the eldest son. We Daltons always leave this house to the eldest son.’
‘Even if that son has proven himself unworthy, with his gambling and spendthrift ways?’ She waited then added, ‘And if he inherits and has to sell, what will happen to me?’
He opened and shut his mouth, then grunted and got up, leaving the room without another word.
She hoped she’d given him something to think about, but to her dismay, later that day she saw another letter to Harriet’s lawyer on the silver tray in the hall.
He hadn’t turned his attention away from their former maid as she’d hoped, was still writing to her lawyer.
What did he hope to gain by it?
Joseph made his own way up the steps of Greyladies, even though it was a slow and ungainly business. At the top he turned to Harriet triumphantly. ‘A year ago, I couldn’t have done this. Moving about more is working.’
His face was alight at this small triumph and in that moment she loved him so much it took her breath away. ‘The more you practise, the better you’ll get, I’m sure, as long as you don’t overreach yourself. Just take it steadily, Joseph dear.’
The word ‘dear’ hung between them, then he smiled.
‘I will. Let’s go into the sitting room. I love to watch the sun set over the abbey. If you get Mickey to cut back some of the bushes, we – I mean you would have a better view of the ruins.’
But when they went into the sitting room, it was her he was looking at, not the ruins, and so wistfully, she couldn’t help moving towards him, hand outstretched. He wouldn’t say it, so she must. ‘Oh, Joseph, don’t let anything stop you loving me, because I don’t think I could live without you now.’
Neither of them saw Miss Bowers pause in the doorway, smile, and move away again on tiptoe.
‘You can’t want to marry someone like me.’
‘I do.’
‘And I love you. You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, and if I were a proper man, I’d ask you to marry me this very minute.’
‘You are a proper man.’
‘We both know I’m not.’ He shook his head, with an obstinate look on his face, a look she recognised from the years of knowing him. She couldn’t think what to say to change his mind and anguish filled her at the thought that he’d throw away their happiness because of how he felt about himself.
No, she suddenly realised, it was because of how his family felt about him. They didn’t value him as he deserved, so he felt unworthy. Only how could she persuade him that he was the man she loved and always would be?
In the dimness of the room, a light suddenly began to glow in one corner.
They both turned to stare, expecting to see Flora bringing in a lamp. But there was no sign of the maid, just a steadily increasing glow that formed into a figure.
Joseph reached out for Harriet’s hand. ‘Is that who I think it is?’
‘Yes. It’s the Lady,’ Harriet whispered back. ‘I saw her before, the first time I came here. She was standing at the top of the stairs then.’
The brightness drifted slowly towards them and the transparent figure stretched out both hands, smiling at them as if offering a blessing. She pointed to her left hand, where a ring seemed to catch sparks of light, and then to Harriet’s hand.
Then the figure began to fade. For a moment, the ring seemed to shine more brightly than the Lady, a gold wedding band.
Both stood watching as the figure began to dim and the light glowing around her dispersed. The gleaming ring vanishing last of all.
‘We didn’t imagine that, did we?’ Joseph asked in hushed tones.
‘No. She was really there. I think she came to give us her blessing.’
‘Two people can’t possibly imagine the same thing.’ Joseph’s voice was so soft it didn’t carry beyond the two of them.
‘People are usually frightened of ghosts, but I’m not frightened of her, not at all.’
‘Neither am I.’
She looked sideways at him. ‘Joseph, you know what she was encouraging us to do.’
&nb
sp; ‘Yes. But—’
‘Please don’t say but in that tone!’
‘You don’t know how horrible my body is, Harriet,’ he said desperately. ‘And I don’t know if I can love a woman as a husband should. You’ll despise me, I know you will.’
‘I could never despise you.’ She bent to drag him up from his wheelchair and after a moment’s resistance, he let himself stand close to her.
As he stood there, he groaned. ‘I shouldn’t take advantage of you.’ But before she could answer, he’d drawn her into his arms and was kissing her, gently, tenderly but with increasing passion.
When he pulled away, he gave a shaky laugh. ‘I can’t even get down on my knees to propose to you, but Harriet, my darling Harriet, will you marry me?’
‘Of course I will.’
Someone sighed and they both jerked round, to see Miss Bowers looking at them from the doorway with a sentimental expression.
Giving them a beaming smile, she hurried across the room, to kiss first Harriet then Joseph on the cheek. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was so lovely to hear your declaration that I couldn’t move away. Let me be the first to congratulate you.’
‘Then you approve?’ Joseph asked.
‘Of course I do. I guessed almost at once that you were in love with one another, but you were so young, so inexperienced, I didn’t say anything until you did.’
‘Did you see the Lady?’ Harriet asked.
‘What lady?’
‘The ghost.’
‘Oh, no. I never have done. Did you see her?’
‘Yes. We both did. She seemed to be giving us her blessing.’
‘Well, there you are, then. It was meant to be.’ She looked from one to the other. ‘We must arrange a wedding immediately.’
‘I’d need permission, surely? I’m under twenty-one,’ Harriet said.
‘We’ll ask Mr Greenlow what the law says about that. I know a magistrate can give people permission if their parents refuse, as long as the request is reasonable. I remember it happening in the village once. So maybe he can give you permission, since you no longer have parents.’ She wrinkled her brow in thought. ‘Dear me! How you forget details as you grow older.’
