The Lacemaker (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 2)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Midsummer,” he repeated, only half attending. “But what if she refuses me?”

  “Why ever should she?” his father said. “You are the heir to my estate, and while it is not the largest such in the county, it is unencumbered and the rents are steady year on year.”

  “And you are a handsome fellow,” his step-mother said, patting his cheek fondly. “That will weigh with her, you may be sure. All young ladies like to be wooed by a good-looking man. Besides, what other option does she have? Of course she will accept you.”

  “And if she does not, there is always Mildred,” his father said, with a wry smile.

  Charles shuddered, pulling a face. “What about one of the younger sisters?” he said.

  “No,” his step-mother said firmly. “Caroline is the practical one. The last thing you want is a wife without an ounce of common sense. Our income is not excessive, and an extravagant daughter-in-law would have us rolled up within a year. We can go to Bath, if you prefer,” she went on brightly. “Plenty of young ladies to choose from there, and the waters would do us all good, I should think.”

  “Not Bath!” Charles said with resolution.

  His father said, “Not the waters!” at the same moment.

  “There is always London.” She sighed. “I should dearly love to go to London again. The entertainments! The excitement and bustle!”

  “The crowds, the expense, the hideous prospect of dancing every evening,” Charles said. He exhaled slowly. “Well, it will have to be Miss Milburn, then.”

  ~~~~~

  Two days later, the study was again attacked, and this time it was during the night. Caroline left the room in perfect order at four o’clock when she went to tidy herself before dinner, and at seven the next morning the door to the cupboard hiding the safe was very slightly ajar, and a blob of candle wax on the floor betrayed the existence of a night-time intruder. The safe itself was still securely locked, the key one of those Caroline kept always on her person, nor was anything missing from within it.

  “I don’t like the idea of someone prowling about down here while we were fast asleep upstairs,” Caroline said. “It’s unnerving.”

  “We could have been murdered in our beds,” Lin said in shocked tones.

  “That seems unlikely,” Caroline said briskly. “This person is looking for something, not bent on violence.”

  “No, but if we’d been awake and come downstairs for… for something to eat, as anyone might, we could have encountered him in the very act of breaking in and been hit over the head… or some such.”

  “And how did he break in, that’s what I should like to know,” Caroline said. “There are no open windows and both the doors were locked, so how we are to prevent him walking in any time he likes, I cannot guess.”

  They were still pondering this when a horse trotted up the drive.

  “It is Mr Stratton!” Lin cried. “He will know what to do!”

  Caroline would not normally regard it as necessary to have a man tell them what to do, except for poor, dear Papa, of course, but in this case she felt that Mr Stratton’s advice would be beneficial. He immediately summoned Martin and Molly to the study, and asked them severely who else might have a key to the house.

  “No one, sir, truly!” Martin said. “Mr Wishaw were very careful about such things, and had the locks changed regular, and when he were away, he had the gates padlocked, too. He were very particular about locking up at night, too — always did that himself, and drew all the bolts, and put a chain across the front door.”

  “And who does that now — locking up at night, that is?”

  “Dunno, sir. Not me. Mr Wishaw never trusted me to do it, and Miss Milburn’s not asked me to.”

  “I never imagined it to be necessary,” Caroline said. “In Romsey a simple bolt was enough. I noticed all the extra bolts and chains, but I thought Mr Wishaw perhaps had valuables for his business to protect. Well, I suppose we shall have to be more careful in future. I’ll lock up myself every night.”

  “That means securing every external door and ensuring the windows are securely closed and shuttered,” Mr Stratton said. “It is a good habit to get into. You have some quite valuable silverware here that might attract a thief.”

  When the servants had been dismissed back to the kitchen, and the four of them had sat down to a belated breakfast in the dining room, Mr Stratton said, “What worries me most about this is wondering what your intruder was looking for.”

  “Money, surely,” Lin said at once. “He tried the safe, after all.”

  “Money is not the only thing kept in safes,” Mr Stratton said, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. “Documents, too, and—”

  “Oh!” Caroline said. “Lady Elland asked if we had found any documents of Lord Elland’s. Do you remember, Lin?”

  “Something relating to his family,” Lin said slowly, frowning as she tried to remember. “She didn’t say what.”

  “Or why Mr Wishaw held them,” Caroline said. “It seemed odd, to me. We told her to ask Mr Wishaw’s business partner.”

  “Hmm… interesting,” Mr Stratton said, then bounced to his feet. “Wait a moment…” He dashed off, returning a few minutes later, grinning from ear to ear. “That is very interesting. Martin tells me that the person who fitted the locks to the doors here, and changed them every few years, was none other than Lord Elland’s gamekeeper. Grison? Is that the right name? So you see where my thoughts are going…”

  “No,” Poppy said, looking bewildered.

  “Yes,” Caroline said. “That Mr Grison kept a key for himself, and broke in. He was in the woods just across the road from here on Sunday, so it could have been him. I thought he was after money, but this makes more sense.”

  “With your permission, ladies,” Mr Stratton said, his eyes gleaming with excitement, “I should like to investigate further. Mr Wishaw’s business partner may know something of these documents, and why they are so important to Lord Elland. And while I am calling upon Mr Salter in Salisbury, I shall arrange for a locksmith from there to visit you, to change the locks and advise upon better security. I do not like to think of you all alone here, and a burglar at large in the house. Three ladies like yourselves — you should not have to suffer such distressing events.”

  But his eyes rested on Lin as he spoke.

  ~~~~~

  The following day, Mr Stratton returned in a fine procession. His horse was followed by a rather splendid chaise and pair, with a postilion, two footmen behind and an outrider, and then, less spectacularly, a modest gig driven by a plainly attired man of middle age, together with a boy of twelve or so.

  “Miss Milburn! Miss Elinor!” Mr Stratton cried, as soon as they emerged from the house to greet the arrivals. “Here I am again with company for you, welcome, I hope.”

  “You are always welcome, Mr Stratton,” Lin said, before Caroline could speak. “And your friends, of course.”

  The friends turned out to be Mr Norrington Salter, an elderly man who had been Mr Wishaw’s partner in their hop business, together with his wife, a little woman as round as a pat of butter.

  “My dears, what a dreadful time you are having!” she cried, the carriage lurching as she descended without waiting for the footman’s assistance. “My dear Miss Milburn!” She enfolded Caroline in her lavender scented embrace. “My dear girl!” Lin squeaked as she, too, was squashed to Mrs Salter’s pillowy bosom. “Oh! Where is your youngest sister? Never mind, I’ll see her later, I daresay. Oh, you poor things! Nothing is worse than a burglar breaking into one’s home.”

  Caroline could think of many worse things, but she bit back her riposte, appreciating the sentiment even if it was slightly misplaced.

  The gig belonged to a locksmith recommended by Mr Salter, and while he and his apprentice disappeared with Martin to appraise the outside of the property, the Salters followed Caroline and Lin into the study.

  “Ah, this room is so familiar,” Mr Salter said sadly. “Poor Abraham! And su
ch a tragic end, to be taken by the sea when he was yet in the prime of his life.”

  “He was your age, Mr Salter,” said his wife affectionately. “Well enough for his years, but a little past his prime, just as you are. As we both are. Now the Miss Milburns here are in the prime of life, and look at them — owning their own home and everything that’s grand. Your father was a linen draper, I understand? Mine was a cordwainer, so I consider myself most fortunate to have caught a man such as Mr Salter, so kind and generous as he is. Do you girls have beaux left behind with broken hearts in Romsey? I’ll wager you do! And no need to blush, missy, eh? But you’ll find young men enough round here, I make no doubt.”

  Caroline smiled as best she could and let her rattle on, but she was pleased when Mr Salter brought his wife’s chatter to an abrupt end, by saying, “That’s enough now, Amabel, for goodness’ sake! Don’t assault the young ladies’ ears any longer.”

  She subsided at once with a good-natured laugh, not at all put out.

  “That’s better,” her husband said. “Now, Miss Milburn, tell me, if you please, about these documents of Lord Elland’s.”

  Caroline raised her eyebrows. “Why, I know nothing about them. They’re not here, that much is certain.”

  “Hmpf. Curious. Yet Lord Elland came to you asking for them?”

  “No, it was Lady Elland. Family papers, she said. Did she come to you? I told her you had taken all the papers relating to the business.”

  He eyed Caroline shrewdly, as if weighing her up. She thought he would probably be a formidable man to deal with in business, both cunning and quick-witted, to judge by the sharp gleam in his eye, but she had nothing to hide, so she didn’t drop her gaze in the slightest.

  After a while, he grunted. “He came. His lordship. Very pleasant fellow, not at all high and mighty. Abraham had some family papers of his, he said. Wondered if they might have got mixed up with the business documents. Would like to have them back, if they could be found. Never told me what they were about, though. You any idea?”

  “None at all.”

  He grunted again. “Well… if they do turn up, I’ve a mind to have a look at them myself. Just to make sure that they are his precious lordship’s and not related to the business. Will you do that, missy? Let me see them?”

  Now, Caroline knew of no reason why she shouldn’t do as he asked, but there was something sly about his manner that set her back up. It was odd that Mr Wishaw had had Lord Elland’s papers in the first place, and doubly odd that his business partner should also be interested in them. If she came across private papers of Lord Elland’s, it would be right to return them to him as soon as possible, and not show them around to anyone who asked. So she said slowly, “If I find anything I can’t identify, I’ll ask Mr Stratton’s advice on the matter.”

  Mr Salter’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he could hardly press the point, so he said no more on the subject, and after that they talked only about the cottage and the village and nothing in particular.

  The Salters stayed for barely an hour, but in that short time they managed to deluge Caroline and Lin with well-meant advice, as well as finishing the half-full bottle of Madeira and eating an entire pound cake. Mrs Salter took care of most of the latter single-handed. “Oh no, I mustn’t… but if you press me… perhaps just one more slice,” she said several times. Caroline didn’t begrudge her the pleasure. There was enough money in the safe now to pay for an extra pound cake now and then.

  The locksmith efficiently replaced the locks on all the doors and the desk drawers, and checked all the shutters for soundness, showing Caroline the slender metal rods that slid across to secure them. He fitted bars to the outside of the study windows as an extra deterrent. He examined the safe and its key, but declared that it had come from a very well-known firm in Birmingham, and the lock was the original one, and not one which could be replaced even by a man skilled in the ways of locks, such as himself, and certainly not by an amateur like Mr Grison.

  “No, the only way to break into a device as strong as this is to copy the key, and I doubt the previous owner left it lying around, eh?”

  “If our thief had had a copy made of the key, we should certainly have found the safe broken into,” Mr Stratton said cheerfully. “So no need to worry on that score, Miss Milburn. Just be sure to keep the key on your person at all times, and if you undertake a journey, leave it with a responsible person like a solicitor, as poor Mr Wishaw had the foresight to do.”

  The locksmith stayed for hours, and Mr Stratton stayed, too. He said he was supervising the work on the locks, but he seemed to spend much of his time wandering about the garden with Lin, or sitting beside her on the seat beneath the twisted old apple tree. When the locksmith cheerily waved them farewell and rattled away down the drive in his gig, the apprentice squeezed in beside him, Lin turned to Mr Stratton and said, “You won’t rush away, I hope. Stay for dinner, do.”

  “Oh… how very kind, but…” He glanced at Caroline.

  It was not exactly what she wanted, but she could hardly refuse at that point. “Of course. You’d be very welcome, if you don’t mind taking pot luck.”

  He beamed with delight. “How kind! How very kind you are. I should be delighted to accept. If I secure myself a room at the inn in the village for tonight, I shall not have to rush away straight after dinner and perhaps we could make up a card table.”

  “Oh, that would be fun!” Lin said.

  “We are imposing rather on Mr Stratton’s good nature,” Caroline said. “He has already spent two days on our affairs, including an overnight stay in Salisbury. I should not be comfortable expecting him to sacrifice another night on our account.”

  “It is not the least imposition in the world, Miss Milburn,” he said. “I assure you, nothing could delight me more than to spend an evening in your charming company. It is no sacrifice, I assure you.” His eyes rested on Lin as he spoke.

  Caroline had to admit that it was a very convivial evening. Poppy was retrieved early from the farm and the three ladies donned their best gowns in honour of the occasion. Mr Stratton ventured into the cellar and selected what he described as ‘a terrifically decent Burgundy — not seen anything like this for years’. The meal was adequate to the occasion, there being no additional dishes owing to the lack of notice to the cook, but Mr Stratton praised everything, and kept them entertained with a string of amusing anecdotes. Afterwards, he taught Lin the principles of backgammon, while Poppy looked on and Caroline mended stockings.

  When he had finally taken himself off to the inn, although with many assurances that he would be welcome to join them for breakfast, the three sisters mounted the stairs to their bedrooms.

  Caroline could not restrain herself from saying, “Lin, I hope you won’t offer Mr Stratton too much encouragement. I shouldn’t like the poor man to suffer a broken heart.”

  “Oh no, there is no danger of him suffering a broken heart, I assure you.”

  “That’s good,” she said, but she wasn’t reassured.

  8: Making Calls

  Thursday arrived, to fill Caroline with gloom.

  “Mrs Leatham expects us to visit today,” she told Lin and Poppy at breakfast.

  Lin pulled a face. “Must we?”

  “I don’t want to go either, but it would be rude to refuse when she’s asked so pointedly. We have to keep on the good side of our neighbours.”

  “Do we?” Lin said. “Can’t we just exchange bows after church and ignore them the rest of the time? They are far above us socially. I can’t imagine why Mrs Leatham called on us at all.”

  “Nor can I, but she has, and she’s made it clear she expects us to return the call,” Caroline said crisply. “She will realise soon enough that we are not of her class. I shall visit her, certainly, but it would be best if we all go.”

  “Oh, but John is to set up the chicken coops today,” Poppy said, her eyes brimming with tears. “He wants me to be here to show him where I want everything. I c
an’t go, Caro. Please don’t make me.”

  “It is best if we all go,” she repeated firmly.

  But in the end, Martin set that idea to rest. “I can drive you to Starlin’ford in the gig, right enough, Miss, but Mr Wishaw chose it just for hisself, y’see. Me drivin’, ’im sittin’ good and comfortable, like. Might squash two of you onto that seat, since you’re thin as rails, but not three, not likely.”

  After some terse discussion, it was agreed that Poppy would stay behind, although Caroline charged Susie with keeping an eye on her. “Make sure she doesn’t wander into Lord Elland’s woods,” she said anxiously. “Mr Grison—”

  “Lord, Miss Milburn, you don’t give the girl any credit for good sense,” Susie said. “Stop fretting. She knows well enough not to wander there.”

  There was no more that Caroline could do. She and Lin put on their Sunday best gowns and cloaks, clambered into the gig on either side of Martin, and lurched away down the drive, waved off by John Christopher and Poppy. They drove to the edge of the village, and then halted at the high Starlingford gateposts, where the gatekeeper’s wife rushed out from the lodge to open the gates to them, curtsying to them as they passed onto the long drive to Starlingford. To one side lay their own fields, leased to Mr Neilson, the farmer, where ploughing was underway, and on the other lay the farm itself. Somewhere cattle were lowing, and from the farmhouse, high and tremulous, came the wailing of Ruby Neilson’s baby.

  They plunged into a belt of large trees overhanging the road, sunlight sparkling as it filtered through the leaves, as the road curved around and began to climb a low hill. Onward and upward they went, as Caroline considered with wonder that this was all Mr Leatham’s land. She tried to calculate its size, comparing it to their own two acres, but had to give it up. Her mind could not comprehend such vastness, and all of it in the possession of a single man. And Lord Elland’s estate was even larger, and the Duke of Falconbury’s larger still.