Beatrice (8 page)

He
turned to study her and opened his mouth to speak, only to close it
again with a snap. The confusion and doubt on her face made her
look a little lost and he inevitably felt drawn toward her. He
didn’t say a word as he drew her into his arms and pressed a gentle
kiss on the top of her head. To his relief, she immediately sighed
and settled against him as though she was destined for his
arms.

“Thank
you again,” she whispered a little ruefully when, minutes later,
she reluctantly eased back from the warmth of his
embrace.

He
smiled at her. “You are welcome – again. Now that the visitor has
gone, let’s get back to those books and see if we can find our
plant, shall we?” He reluctantly released her and followed her into
the sitting room.

“Do you
really think the plant might be his?” Beatrice asked. “Did he give
you his name?”

“I don’t
really know if the plant is his, Beatrice. Your name is most
certainly on that packaging paper. It may have been for someone
whose name begins with a ‘B’ but, for some reason, I doubt that it
is him. I didn’t bother to ask for his name because it didn’t seem
relevant at the time. I didn’t like the way he kept trying to look
into the house.” Ben now wished that he had asked the man for his
name, but hadn’t wanted to encourage him to stay any longer than
absolutely necessary. Besides, he wasn’t altogether sure that he
would have gotten the truth.

“There
is one thing for certain,” he added quietly.

“What’s
that?”

Ben
looked directly at her. “He isn’t from around these parts. He
didn’t know my name, and assumed that this is my house.”

“He
didn’t ask for me, or my uncle?”

Ben
shook his head. “I don’t want to alarm you Beatrice, but there is
something odd going on here,” he declared quietly after several
moments of thoughtful silence. “I cannot help but feel that the
quicker we find the identity of the plant you have, the faster we
will know why that man wants to get his hands on it.”

“Do you
think he saw it through the study window?”

Ben
shook his head. “I put it on the floor, if you
remember?”

Beatrice
nodded and anticipated Ben’s next question.

“Did he
look like the person you saw?”

Beatrice
was about to nod but then stopped. Did he? Now that she came to
think about it, she couldn’t be entirely sure who it was outside
the window, only she knew it hadn’t been either her or Ben’s
reflection.

“I can’t
honestly say,” she replied apologetically.

When he
didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, she sighed and turned
her attention to the books at her feet.

Hours
later, Ben yawned and glanced over at Beatrice, who was trying to
ease the kinks out of her neck. He had seen so many plants and
flowers now that he would be lucky if he could identify a daffodil,
let alone any rare species.

If the
boredom evident on Beatrice’s face was anything to go by, she felt
exactly the same.

Luckily,
the rain appeared to have stopped now, which was a shame given that
there was no reason for him not to go home now. He glanced at the
clock and was shocked to note that it was well past tea-time, and
neither of them had stopped for lunch yet. Although they had drunk
large volumes of tea, and had demolished the large slices of fruit
cake hours ago, neither of them had really taken a proper,
well-earned break. His stomach rumbled loudly and he threw her an
apologetic glance, to which she smiled.

“Would
you like to stay for dinner with me?” She had the good grace to
look rather sheepish. “I am afraid that I completely forgot about
luncheon.”

Ben
opened his mouth to speak only for the rattle of the front door to
stop him. He glanced at Beatrice and lifted his brows but, before
he could stand up, several light taps were rapped out and
Beatrice’s face suddenly lit up.

“That’s
Maud. I bet she has raced home now that the rain has
stopped.”

He
immediately let the woman in.

“Hello,
Mrs Partridge,” he said when the housekeeper appeared in the
doorway.

“Oh,
hello, Mr Addison. What a surprise it is to see you here,” the
housekeeper replied warily. “Is everything alright?”

Ben
briefly explained what had happened to Beatrice on the way home
that had resulted in her injury, and nodded toward the foot she had
propped up on the table.

“Well, I
never,” Maud gasped. “It comes to something when you cannot even
walk the country lanes anymore, doesn’t it?”

“Did you
see any sign of the carriage in the lane?”

Maud
shook her head as she gathered the tea things up and lifted the
tray off the table. “I didn’t see anybody, sorry. Now then, I take
it that you are staying for dinner, Mr Addison? We have a lovely
roast beef joint with vegetables straight out of the garden.” She
didn’t bother to stop to wait for Ben to agree, and hurried out of
the room without a backward look.

“Sorry,”
Beatrice said ruefully. “She tends to get a bit carried away
sometimes.”

“No,
it’s fine. Dinner would be lovely.”

He got
the feeling that although Maud Partridge was ‘officially’ the
housekeeper, the relationship she had with Beatrice, went far
beyond that of employer and employee. Theirs was a relationship
that ran more along the lines of companions and friends. Whatever
their relationship, Ben was just that that Mrs Partridge lived
there and Beatrice wasn’t left vulnerable and alone
overnight.

Beatrice
struggled to contain her delight at the thought that Ben would
share dinner with her. She felt incredibly guilty as it was for not
being able to offer him more than tea and cake throughout the
afternoon but, with her injured ankle, she daren’t trust herself to
carry a hot kettle, let alone the pots and pans she would need to
cook a meal. Besides, Maud was just as territorial over her kitchen
as her uncle had been over his study. She would have a fit if
Beatrice messed with her pots and pans while she was
away.

She
settled back in her chair and picked up another book.

“Rare
and Tropical Plant Species by Harry Toddington,” she read aloud and
shared a rueful look with Ben.

It
looked as interesting as mud but, nevertheless, she opened the
front cover. Everything within her froze and she frowned down at
the single sheet of paper that stared up at her. She didn’t even
pick it up as she read the list of names and addresses written in
bold script that was most definitely in her uncle’s
handwriting.

Jules Sanders, Rydal Hove, Church Street, Great
Tipton.

Richard Browning, 3 Carlton Terrace, Marchwell
Bishop.

Brian Mottram, Belleview Cottage, Abercrome Street, Great
Tipton.

Bernard Murray, No. 9 Church View, Main Street, Tipton
Hollow.

“Ben,”
Beatrice whispered as she read the names for the third time. Alarm
settled deep in the pit of her stomach and she knew that she had
just found something of real significance. What it was significant
to she wasn’t quite sure yet, but she knew that the piece of paper
in her hand just changed everything.

“I
wonder if one of these men sent you the plant,” Ben murmured and
frowned down at the names while he mentally plotted where each
house would be. “Do you know if they are all botanists?”

Beatrice
shook her head. “I am afraid that I have absolutely no idea.” She
sat back in her chair with a disgusted sigh. “It is only now that I
realise just how much my uncle kept me on the periphery of his
life. I have no idea if any of these people were good friends of
his, mere acquaintances, or people he just sourced out of a book
somewhere.”

“Well,
luckily they are all in this area, so it shouldn’t take too much
effort to trace each individual and see if they had any connection
to your uncle.” Ben nodded at the book she had apparently forgotten
was still in her lap. “Any sign of the plant in there?”

Beatrice
frowned at him for a moment before she stared blankly down at the
open pages. “I haven’t had a look yet.”

To her
utter consternation, the pages of the book opened to reveal a
second sheet of paper which contained symbols, scribbled writing,
and what looked like more Latin names. There was no proper drawing
of the plant, but enough notes and ad hoc diagrams to assure her
that what she held were cultivation notes for something. She looked
down at the page where the paper had been carefully
stored.

“Orchids,” she whispered, and felt herself go cold when she
saw the carefully illustrated orchid on the page before her. “This
one is a beautiful purple colour, but I think what we have is an
orchid.
Ophris Speculum;
never heard of it.” She tipped her head and
studied the picture. “Although the flower we have is different, the
stem sketched in here is identical.” She turned the book around so
Ben could study the illustration.

“It says
that orchids are from tropical climates, Brazil, Solomon Islands,
Papua New Guinea.” He stared in dismay at her. “If the one in the
study is rare, if its parent plants come from say, Brazil and Papua
New Guinea - two random countries - good Lord, it will be one of
its kind. It could be the only one in the world.”

Beatrice
felt herself start to tremble. “Extremely rare means very
valuable,” she whispered. “No wonder that man wants it.”

“Given
what was written on the packaging paper, it is rare. It hints that
someone would call and try to get it off you,” Ben sighed in
disgust. “Beatrice, just what on earth is going on?”

“I don’t
know Ben, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it is trouble.” The
look she gave him silently begged for honesty. “Do you think that
the carriage that almost ran me down had intended to hit
me?”

“Let’s
not get carried away. It could just be one of those things. Right
now we cannot jump to conclusions. I think,” he looked at her
frankly, “and it is just my opinion you understand, I am not
telling you what you should do, but I think that the first thing to
do is pay a visit to the people on this list. We need to find out
if it is possible to cultivate a plant such as the one we have.
Then we need to establish if any of the people on this list knew
your uncle. We need to find out if they were involved in
cultivating rare plants, especially this one.” He held up the paper
with the notes on. “These look like scientific notes of some kind,
but Latin is not my strong point. I have no idea what these names
could mean. We need to get them transcribed by someone reliable and
see if they are notes about the plant in the study.”

Although
Beatrice nodded, she doubted that her uncle had anything to do with
the plant in the study. She couldn’t see how Matthew could have
cultivated something like that without either Maud or herself
seeing it, or becoming aware of the smell. She just knew that this
plant; this rare orchid, belonged to someone else. Unfortunately,
had no idea who that someone else was; and why they had chosen to
leave it with her.

It was
on the tip of her tongue to ask Ben if he would help her arrange to
meet with the people on the list, but then felt incredibly guilty
about everything he had done for her so far. It didn’t seem right
to impose on him any further. He had been kind, generous, caring,
and had asked for nothing in return. While he seemed happy to do
it, she didn’t feel comfortable asking him for more.

“I will
wait until I am back on my feet and then arrange to visit them.”
Although her words were confident, she frowned at the thought of
arranging to meet with strangers.

“Look, I
have to confess to you that I am intrigued by the whole mystery and
I don’t want to just walk away and leave you to it,” Ben announced
flatly. “Especially given that we don’t know if the incident with
the carriage was mere circumstance. I would like to continue to
help you with this mystery, if I may? Why don’t I come with you to
meet with them? You know, for moral support.” He read the
indecision on her face and tried a different tack. “I don’t think
it is right and proper for you to knock on any of the men’s doors.
After all, we don’t know if the man who came to call is one of the
people on the list. If he is, I really don’t think it is a good
idea for you to knock on his door without a chaperone, and a male
one at that.”

He
didn’t add that the man looked positively dangerous and was not
someone he wanted Beatrice to spend any time with.

“But I
have put on you enough already. It doesn’t seem fair to impose on
your good nature anymore. You have been so kind and helpful to me
that I cannot thank you enough. I don’t know how to repay
you.”

“Thank
me by letting me help you with this, Beatrice. It is really
important to me that I am here to help you. You are not putting on
me at all. I want to do this. It goes against every masculine
instinct I have to just walk away and leave you to face this alone.
Just let me help you. Please?”

The soft
plea in his voice was more than enough to convince Beatrice that
she wanted him by her side throughout all of this. She had no idea
if the plant’s arrival was all stuff and nonsense, and really
wasn’t anything other than someone returning a beautiful plant
without realising that her uncle was now dead. If she was honest,
she didn’t want to meet with strange men, whoever they were, and
would be immensely reassured to have Ben beside her – again. He
clearly didn’t mind being involved, and was more intrigued than
annoyed.