Heir to Greyladies

by Anna Jacobs

  She went running in, thinking to find him fallen or in some other trouble. Instead, he was standing up next to the fireplace and the secret panel was sliding slowly open.

  ‘Peep out of the window. Is that your stepbrother?’

  ‘Yes. And his mother. Oh, my goodness! He’s brought the O’Sullivans with him as well. They’re a rough pair. How did he know I was here? What am I going to do?’

  ‘Get into the hiding place quickly so that the panel has time to close before he comes into the house. I’ll tell him you’re out. You may have to stay there for some hours. Will you be all right?’

  ‘Yes. It’s you I’ll be worrying about.’

  ‘Don’t. Who’d suspect a poor cripple of being able to do anything? I’ll sit in my chair and pretend I can’t walk. Put on a bit of a stupid act, too. They always think people in wheelchairs are stupid.’ He pushed her inside. ‘Close it now.’

  He stood back. ‘And remember how much I love you,’ he called softly as the panel slid into place.

  Then he moved across to his wheelchair, picking up his book and holding it on his lap as if interrupted in his reading. On a sudden thought he rolled his chair to a place from which he could see out into the hall.

  When a car drew up at the house, with three rough-looking men in it and a blowsy female with a ridiculous hat, Miss Bowers went towards the sitting room to ask if they knew the visitors.

  She heard what Joseph told Harriet, so rushed back into the kitchen to warn the servants. She told Flora to answer the door as usual, but to be ready to fetch help from the village if there was trouble.

  The two younger women stared at her in shock.

  ‘The man who’s turned up is Miss Latimer’s stepbrother and he’s hurt the mistress before. And he’s brought two rough-looking men with him.’

  Phyllis let out a whimper.

  ‘Pull yourself together, girl,’ Miss Bowers snapped. ‘If you act normal, they won’t hurt you.’

  She turned back to Flora. ‘If you have to run for help, don’t let them see you. Livvy, you must pretend to know nothing.’

  She hurried across to the servants’ stairs. ‘I’ll go up by the back stairs and come down by the front ones, so they won’t know you’ve seen me.’

  The knocker sounded.

  As Flora answered the door, Livvy kept watch from the doorway at the rear of the hall. She’d run for help herself, if Flora couldn’t get back. When she saw the stranger shove Flora roughly out of the way, she knew they were in for trouble.

  But Flora was able to hurry back into the kitchen. ‘They’re up to no good. I’m going for help.’ She looked over her shoulder anxiously and made straight for the back door.

  As Livvy shut the back door behind her, she turned to Phyllis. ‘You heard Miss Bowers. Pretend we know nothing about what’s going on at the front.’

  ‘What if he hits us?’

  ‘He won’t if we don’t seem to know anything. You mustn’t show any interest in what they’re doing. Go and make a start on the dishes.’

  She hoped the servants would be left alone. You could never tell with violent men, though.

  When the door knocker sounded, Joseph saw Flora cross the hall.

  ‘Yes, sir?’ she began, then cried out in shock.

  Joseph saw her stagger backwards as if pushed hard. That didn’t bode well.

  Harding strode into the house. He didn’t even notice Flora hurrying back into the kitchen, because he’d stopped to stare round possessively, as if he owned the place. How could he possibly feel like that?

  Then Joseph realised what this meant. There was only one way that fellow could hope to own this place. He must be intending to marry Harriet! Well, over my dead body, Joseph vowed.

  He turned his wheelchair slightly so that it’d not look as if he was watching the newcomer and called out, ‘Is that you, Harriet?’

  When Harding appeared in the doorway, he pretended to be surprised, hoped he was doing a good job of acting. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Don’t play the fool. Harriet of course.’

  ‘I don’t know. I thought that was her coming in. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m her stepbrother.’ His gaze flicked scornfully over Joseph.

  More footsteps sounded in the hall and an older woman, with a face lined and soured by a hard life, followed Harding into the room. She also stared at the man in the wheelchair.

  Where were the other two men who’d been in the car? Joseph wondered.

  ‘This is my mother, Mrs Benson. She’s Harriet’s guardian.’ Harding said. ‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m Joseph Dalton.’ He held out his hand, letting it drop when the intruder made no attempt to shake it. ‘Harriet has kindly allowed me and my manservant to rent the older part of the house until I can find a place of my own.’

  ‘Dalton?’ the old lady said sharply. ‘That’s the name of the folk she used to work for.’

  ‘She used to work for my parents, yes.’

  ‘Then why aren’t you still living back with them?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’

  A meaty hand lifted him up by his jacket and held him half off the wheelchair. He didn’t struggle, or protest, or plead. He merely waited, and after giving him a shake, Harding let him drop.

  ‘Answer my mother when she asks a question, Dalton.’

  Joseph pretended to have difficulty easing himself back into position. ‘I won’t answer questions that are none of her business. And if you hurt me in any way, I’ll have you charged with assault.’

  He looked towards the door as Miss Bowers came down the last few stairs. ‘And I shall have a witness to prove it.’

  They swung round quickly.

  Miss Bowers crossed the hall and came into the room. She moved to stand beside Joseph. ‘Who are these people?’

  ‘Harriet’s stepbrother and stepmother.’

  Harding kicked the wheelchair so that it rolled back. ‘Keep your mouth shut, you, unless I tell you to speak.’

  ‘Shame on you, whoever you are, to bully a cripple like that!’ Miss Bowers said loudly. ‘What are you doing in our house?’

  Harding’s scowl grew blacker. ‘How the hell many folk has Harriet got living here? Who are you, old woman?’

  ‘I’m her companion, Miss Bowers, and I’m helping her settle in.’

  ‘Well, you can pack your bags and get out after we’ve seen Harriet, because I’ll be doing that from now on,’ Winifred said sharply. She began to walk across the room, touching the ornaments on the mantelpiece, then fingering the upholstery on an easy chair, after which she squinted up at the nearest painting.

  Every movement said she felt she had a right to do this. What a grasping pair they were! Joseph thought.

  ‘I’ll ask you again, Dalton: where – is – Harriet?’ Harding said loudly.

  ‘I think she may have been going into the village to visit a friend.’ He frowned as if trying to remember.

  ‘No, she went to church, then she was going on to see her friend Mary,’ Miss Bowers said. ‘She did tell you, but you weren’t listening, Joseph. You must try not to let your mind stray, dear.’

  She winked at him as she spoke, keeping her face turned away from the intruders, then she turned and glanced at the clock. ‘Harriet won’t be back for a while yet. The people in the village have really taken to her and are welcoming her into their homes.’

  Norris looked at her suspiciously and she returned his stare with a bland look that betrayed nothing.

  ‘Then we’ll have to wait for her to return,’ he said. ‘We’re in no hurry. After all, we’ve come to live here, haven’t we? I’ll just tell our driver to go round the back and keep an eye on the servants. Pat can come and sit in the hall in case either of you tries to cause trouble.’ His smirk at Joseph said he didn’t think this was possible with a cripple.

  ‘I’ll go and tell the se
rvants to make you all a cup of tea, then,’ Miss Bowers said.

  ‘Oh, no, you won’t. You’ll stay here. You and that idiot.’ He jerked his head towards Joseph. ‘We want you where we can keep an eye on you. I’ll go. Ma, yell for me if they try to leave this room.’

  Miss Bowers gave a loud sniff and sat down in a chair near the window. ‘In that case, I shall read my book. I certainly don’t enjoy conversing with people like you.’

  Norris paused at the door to add, ‘And don’t let them talk to one another, either, Ma.’

  From where Joseph was sitting, he could also look through the side of the bay window. He saw Harding go outside at the front of the house and speak to the driver. When the fellow came back in, one of the men followed him.

  But neither of them came into the sitting room. Joseph was still able to see part of the hall. Harding gestured to a chair and then, as the other man sat down, moved towards the back of the house. Presumably he was going to inspect the servants’ area and see who was there.

  Joseph picked up his book and pretended to read, but all his attention was on Mrs Benson, who had sat down near the door. She was alternately staring at them and studying the room. Once she left her chair to pick up a china figurine and examine it, a gloating expression on her face. Then she went back to her seat, fidgeting.

  That big flowery hat looked ridiculous on such a lined and harsh face. But there was nothing ridiculous about the power emanating from her son. A man to be wary of, Norris Harding.

  There were no sounds coming from the kitchen, so Joseph kept wondering what was going on there, hoping the servants were all right.

  But most of all, he was worried about Harriet. He knew she hadn’t liked being shut up in the hiding place, even with him beside her.

  How would she be coping alone in the dimness?

  Norris stood in the doorway of the kitchen. An older woman was cooking something and a girl stood in what looked like a scullery, washing dishes. They hadn’t noticed him, so he watched them for a moment or two longer.

  They didn’t look as if they were anxious about anything, were just getting on with their work. Good. They’d not cause him any trouble, if he was careful not to upset them.

  It was the biggest kitchen Norris had ever seen. Even the scullery to one side was bigger than Ma’s kitchen at home. There was a row of pans on the kitchen wall – why did anyone need so many? – neat piles of crockery and dishes on the dresser, a knife cleaner, a mincer, and other gadgets he didn’t recognise standing on a long bench to one side, and a huge kitchen range radiating warmth.

  How many rooms did this place have? And were they all full of furniture and other objects? He smiled happily. They’d all be his soon.

  He couldn’t wait to explore the house properly, though he had to admit that the hall and stairs gave him the creeps, he couldn’t work out why. Almost as if they were haunted, if you believed in ghosts, which he didn’t. It was just an old house where your footsteps echoed, was bound to feel strange. Ghosts had been invented to frighten children and fools. And he was neither.

  He couldn’t go and look round the place yet, though. He had to be ready to capture Harriet when she returned from the village.

  About time the two servants noticed him. He cleared his throat.

  The older woman turned and exclaimed in shock, pressing one hand to her chest. ‘Oh, my goodness! You gave me a right old turn. Who are you?’

  ‘Miss Latimer’s stepbrother.’ She might call herself Latimer now, but she would be calling herself Mrs Harding before the month was over, he was determined about that. Even if she was officially a Latimer, people would still address her by his name. He’d insist on that.

  The cook frowned at him. ‘Miss Latimer didn’t say she was expecting anyone. Did she know you were coming?’

  ‘My mother wanted to surprise her. Where is she?’

  ‘Gone into the village.’

  ‘When will she be back?’

  Livvy let out a snort of laughter. ‘The mistress doesn’t tell us servants things like that.’

  Harriet must have upset her, from her tone. Well, she’d been a servant herself not so long ago so they’d be jealous of her good fortune.

  Norris leant against the door frame and smiled at them. Best to win them round. ‘My mother and I have come a long way, so we’ll be wanting a cup of tea and something to eat in a little while, then some dinner later.’ He’d heard the car chug round to the back and shortly afterwards there was a knock on the back door.

  ‘That’s our driver. He’ll want something to eat and drink, as well, if it’s not too much trouble. And there’s another friend here too.’

  She nodded. ‘Four of you, then, two in the sitting room and two in the kitchen. Don’t worry about your men. We know how to treat visiting servants. I’ll bring the tea through when you ring for it … sir.’

  Something was nudging at his mind, but it wasn’t until he was in the hall again that he realised what it was and hurried back into the kitchen. ‘Where’s the other maid, the one who answered the front door to us?’

  ‘Flora? She went up to finish the bedrooms. Did you want her? I can call her down if you like.’

  He hesitated, but he couldn’t believe the servants were trying to deceive him. They hadn’t even cared what he was doing here once he’d told them he was Harriet’s stepbrother. ‘No, I just wondered where she was.’

  He mustn’t start seeing problems where there were none. Servants were a spineless lot and spent their lives doing as they were told.

  He’d enjoy ordering them around. By hell, he would be set up for life here!

  That same morning William Dalton shook his wife awake. ‘I couldn’t sleep, kept thinking what to do. I’ve decided to go over to Swindon to see that lawyer chappie. I’ll insist he tells me where the girl is and why he was writing to her.’

  Sophie jerked bolt upright in bed, her long, night-time plait of greying hair falling over one shoulder. ‘William, this has to stop. I forbid you to do anything else about Harriet Benson.’

  He goggled at her. ‘Forbid me? You can’t forbid me to do anything. I’m still the head of this household, thank you very much. I only woke you out of politeness, to tell you where I’m going.’

  She threw back the covers. ‘If you insist on making a fool of yourself, I’m coming with you. Someone has to have their wits about them, and you’ve obviously lost yours.’

  ‘I’m not waiting for you. I intend to catch the early train.’

  She was ready in record time, surprising her maid and cook, as well as her husband.

  When the train pulled away from the tiny Welworth station, she leant back and groaned. ‘I’ve not been out and about so early for years.’

  ‘Nor have I.’

  ‘I must look a mess.’

  He smiled, the first hint that his anger might be abating a little, she thought. ‘You look pretty with your hair looser like that.’

  ‘Pretty. Ha! I’m past five and sixty.’

  ‘You’ll always be pretty to me.’

  She sighed and took his hand. ‘William, I’m begging you. Please reconsider. Don’t do it.’

  ‘My mind’s made up. Don’t spoil the journey by arguing, Sophie.’

  She didn’t know what to say or do to bring him to his senses. But she understood what was driving him. He’d lost status because of his eldest son, had even lost the ability to use his London house, which was now rented out to rich Americans. That was why he was making such a point of proving he was still master at Dalton House. But he’d chosen a foolish, petty way to do it.

  Anger was a poor master.

  A minute later he said, ‘It’s nice to get out for a change. We haven’t done much going out since we gave up living in London.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  From inside the hiding place, Harriet could hear every word spoken in the sitting room, though she had to listen very carefully to Miss Bowers’ soft voice.

  The scornful way her ste
pbrother talked to Joseph, as if her friend was a halfwit, made her want to rush out and yell at him that Joseph was a better man than Norris would ever be. But she knew only too well how strong Norris was. He’d grab her the minute he saw her, then she’d be helpless.

  And surely he’d not hurt Joseph in any way that could get him arrested for assault? How brave of Joseph to stand up to him!

  As the slow minutes crawled past, the darkness made the hiding place feel even smaller and increasingly airless. Even when her eyes grew accustomed to the faint light, it felt as if the walls were pressing in on her. There were no other shapes, just the box of walls and the narrow bench she was sitting on.

  She’d never been comfortable in dark, enclosed spaces, but she mustn’t give in to her fears. She tried breathing slowly and steadily. That helped a little.

  Then the people outside fell silent and she felt worse, as if she was cut off completely from everything she knew, as if she was buried alive.

  Worries clamoured in her brain like live things. What was Norris doing to her friends now? Was Joseph all right? Why had they stopped speaking?

  She couldn’t help wondering if she should give in and let her stepmother take over the house until she turned twenty-one. If she did, surely they would let Joseph go? She wasn’t even sure of that, or of her own safety. Accidents could happen. A human life was such a fragile thing. Norris might attack her again. No, would attack her, she was sure. She shuddered at that memory.

  And once they got their foot in the door, her two step-relatives would try to steal all she had. She knew them. Greedy, even with the food they ate, gobbling it down, clearing their plates, looking round for more. No, she had to stay hidden here until … until what?

  Until they went to bed, if necessary.

  If she could bear it.

  Perhaps they’d come to stay? She tried to remember whether there had been any luggage piled on the back rack of their car, but couldn’t. She’d only caught a quick glimpse of the vehicle before she hid.