Lady Lightfingers (14 page)

‘Miss Price,' he said, bowing over her hand and sweeping it with his moustache, which, for all intents and purposes, resembled the head of a broom. He left a dewy patch, which she managed to wipe off across her skirt as she retrieved her hand. The lawyer was perspiring quite heavily, though the day itself wasn't particularly warm.

‘Are you quite well, Mr Avery?'

Taking out a handkerchief he mopped his brow. ‘I'm rarely ill, Miss Price.'

Harriet gazed at Millie. ‘We'll have some tea, and some cake if there is any.'

‘There is, Miss Price. I made one when you were at church . . . It was going to be a surprise for your birthday.'

‘It's a wonderful surprise, Millie. Thank you.'

When Millie had shuffled off, Arthur tut-tutted. ‘That woman is too familiar now your mother and sister have gone.' He ran a gloved finger along the mantelpiece, bringing it down covered in dust. His lips pursed. ‘She's far too old to do her work properly, and you should get rid of her.'

‘Millie has nowhere to go . . . besides, she's company for me.'

‘Which brings me to the point of my visit, Miss Price.'

‘Does it?' She allowed her astonishment to show. ‘I wouldn't have thought that Millie was of any importance to you. I thought you were coming to talk to me about finances.'

‘Oh, dear me no, Miss Price. Your mother's will has yet to go through probate, and there are debts. In the meantime, your monthly allowance should be sufficient to see you through.' He mopped more perspiration from his forehead. ‘Miss Price, I have something to say to you. Kindly sit down and listen without interruption. Perhaps it will turn out to be a happy surprise for your birthday.'

‘Good Lord, you're as agitated as a man about to propose marriage,' she said helpfully, and wondered if Arthur was being completely honest with her about the will. It was taking a long time to be sorted out.

‘Quite,' he said, and fumbled in his pocket. ‘Now your sister and mother have gone it has occurred to me that you must be lonely living in this big house by yourself.'

She opened her mouth to speak, shutting it again when he held up a hand for her to keep quiet.

‘My dear Harriet, I'm a man of considerable means. All I lack in life is a wife to see to my comfort, and an heir or two. Your mother had come to an agreement with me, that were I to marry Jane, then your mother's own portion of the house as well as Jane's would come into the marriage with her.'

So, her mother had been going to sacrifice Harriet's own portion to buy Jane a husband. ‘And what of my entitlement?'

‘You would have been recompensed, and, of course, would have always enjoyed a secure home with us. You are now in the happy position of owning Chaffinch House outright, which is much less complicated for me, and also along with a moderate amount of money, which will provide for you, without any serious expense on my part.'

‘Mr Avery, I must tell you I was not being serious when I suggested you looked like a man with marriage on his mind. You are
not
, in fact, seriously proposing a marriage between us, are you?'

‘Why, yes, am I not making the situation clear? Now Jane has gone, I'm offering myself to you. Of course, your manner is a little more spirited than I'd look for in a wife. That comes from being a long time without having a father to correct you. But once we were wed I'm sure you'd respond to my guidance, and according to my calculations, you are still of childbearing age, and I am, as you know, in need of an heir.'

One to leave my property and estate to, she thought. Pompous fool! Harriet slid her hands into her cuffs in case they took on a strength and a mind of their own – and strangled him! She allowed her gaze to drop demurely to her lap. ‘Thank you, Mr Avery; it was kind of you to think of my welfare. However, I have no intention of marrying.'

‘Miss Price, allow me to be frank. You're a spinster lady with very little chance of meeting eligible men or making a better match. Due to that unfortunate business with your father and your half-sister, the family name is not as well regarded as it once was.'

‘Ah . . . poor Alice. It wasn't her fault.' The sigh she gave was heartfelt. ‘All she did was fall in love with Jackaby Laws. I wonder what happened to my sister.'

‘Nothing good, I imagine.'

‘Why should you imagine that, when father told me there was a legacy for Alice from her mother, enough to live modestly on if need be?'

She felt like laughing when his face mottled red and he began to splutter. ‘Unfortunately, there was nowhere to send it, and on your mother's advice it was used to maintain the house . . . since it would go a long way towards repayment of the debt Alice Laws' husband owed to the estate.'

‘Are you telling me that my mother spent money that belonged to Alice?'

He shrugged. ‘That's so.'

‘That money had belonged to Alice since she was a child, and came through her maternal grandmother. Alice was not responsible for payment of her husband's debts. And since my mother was no kin to Alice Laws, but her stepmother, surely she had no right to authorize it to be spent in such a manner. Can that be legal?'

‘Dear Miss Price, I would suggest that your knowledge of legal matters is sadly lacking and you shouldn't test your brain with such assumptions.' He gave her an effusive smile and loosened his collar by running his finger around it. ‘But we've strayed from the matter in hand, have we not? I'm a man with a mission,' he said with awkward gallantry.

‘Then let us come back to it by all means.' She stood, obliging him to do the same. ‘Mr Avery, I'm afraid that I must refuse your proposal, and since you've insulted me at every turn, I therefore must conclude that I'm unworthy to become your wife. There, your mission is no longer valid, sir. We shall put it behind us, and allow our acquaintanceship to remain on a business level. As soon as possible, Mr Avery, I will require an accounting of the worth of my estate, since I need to know exactly where I stand.'

He looked bewildered. ‘You can dismiss my petition just like that? But why?'

‘You have made it quite obvious that I'm not worthy to hold such a position as your wife. Jane may have been satisfied with that, but I'm not. Besides, Mr Avery, because you've been so very persistent, I might as well tell you that I do not admire you enough to marry you.'

‘Your money will not be able to maintain this house indefinitely. Will you allow me to buy it from you? There's a nice little cottage in the next village that would suit a spinster in your position admirably.'

‘I do not intend to move at the moment, Mr Avery. My sister Alice may return. In fact, I'm thinking of having a search made for her.' She'd thought no such thing until this moment, but now it seemed like a good idea. She'd been thinking a lot about Alice and her child since her own mother and sister had died.

An expression of extreme uneasiness crossed his face and she leaned forward. ‘Why Mr Avery, you look quite put out. Is there something you're not telling me?'

Gathering his things together the solicitor stood, saying in great huff, ‘Only that you do not have the resources to hire a man to carry out the search. The house will deteriorate and my next offer will not be so generous. However, if you married me I could attend to the matter for you.'

She drew herself up. ‘You have already had my answer on that. The next time you visit I'd be obliged if you would confine yourself only to business matters. You have my instructions. I'll expect a full accounting of my affairs within the month . . .' something she suspected – correctly as it turned out – that wouldn't happen.

Hearing Millie with the tea things Harriet opened the door and said, ‘Mr Avery is just leaving, Millie. Take the tea back to the kitchen and I'll join you in a few minutes.'

As Arthur Avery was on the way home he passed a beggar girl pushing a cart with a child seated inside. She was coming in the opposite direction, limping. Her hair was in a tangle and she looked fatigued.

She waved him to a halt and asked, ‘Can you direct me to Hanbury Cross, sir?'

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘It's three miles back that way. You take a right-hand turn. It's signposted, so you can't miss it. But don't expect any handouts from the villagers. We don't take kindly to wanderers in these parts.'

‘I'm not a wanderer. I have kin living there.'

Some of the field labourers, he supposed sourly. The peasants didn't seem to mind crowded conditions, and they crammed as many relatives as they could into their cottages.

If Arthur had stopped to think, he would have known it was an unfair assumption, since the residents of Hanbury Cross did no such thing. Their cottages were well maintained, clean and tidy, and definitely not overcrowded . . . which was the very reason Arthur had set his sights on living there, in Chaffinch House.

‘Is there a farmhouse hereabouts? We haven't eaten since yesterday.'

The child stared hungrily at him and held out her cupped hands, making him feel guilty and aware of his own corpulence. She was thin, though not emaciated, and her eyes were bright. It wouldn't hurt the child to miss a meal.

Arthur was in a bad mood after his meeting with Harriet Price. The woman was troublesome. She was a shrew, and her tongue too sharp and to the point for comfort. No wonder nobody had ever offered for her hand.

Arthur was glad Harriet hadn't accepted him. She was too astute and capable a woman for his liking. Jane had been more biddable, though, more like her mother, who'd responded to flattery. Now he'd have to find all the receipts and get the ledgers in order, and he'd just dismissed his clerk. It was selfish of Harriet Price to want everything to be in order within the month.

He tried to ignore the child, but she was making persistent little pleading noises. They started begging young so they didn't have to work for a living, he thought. It was easy money, and thank goodness they didn't all take up begging to earn a living.

Wearily the older girl murmured, ‘Thank you for the directions, sir. God willing, I should make it by nightfall.'

Hadn't the reverend preached about charity the previous Sunday?

He'd said that generosity towards the poor would be returned twofold.

‘If you take the next turn to the right there's a cowshed, and the herd was being milked when I came past. This should buy you a cup of milk.' Fishing thruppence from his pocket he spun it through the air and she deftly caught it.

‘You're most kind, sir.'

At least she had good manners, he thought, and clicking his tongue he urged his horse forward, glowing inside from his generous gesture.

Despite her sore feet and tiredness, Celia grinned. There was nothing like a mention of the Lord to bring out the good in people.

Nine

Dusk was nearly overtaken by night when Celia took the turn-off to Hanbury Cross.

She'd nearly missed the sign, a weathered plank of wood nailed to an ivy-covered wall that had the name of the village carved on it.

The countryside sloped down in a gentle incline, then up again. Celia could see the village in the distance, the windows just beginning to glow as darkness fell. Beyond it was a copse, and behind it was revealed the rooftop of a house. It was the one she'd been looking for. Chaffinch House.

The village still seemed a long way away, but at least it was downhill at the moment. It had taken her longer than she'd expected to get here, and she'd missed Johnny's help in pushing the cart. She'd lost her direction many times over the past two days. Now it seemed as though the end of the journey was finally within her grasp.

Her mother had told her the house was one of the larger ones. It was called Chaffinch House and set a little way apart from the village.

Filled to the brim with milk straight from the cow, Lottie had fallen asleep. Her body was quite relaxed, for she was used to the movement of the cart as it jolted through the potholes.

Celia trudged on into the darkness. The lane beneath her feet was covered in loose stones, and her torn and blistered feet were an agony with each automatic step. She'd lost track of time. When darkness fell, she and Lottie usually slept in some corner of a field, a haystack or a barn. She slept like the dead, with Lottie tied to her wrist by a strip of rag, in case the child wandered off in the dark.

The air was cool, but soft. It smelled of cow dung, hawthorn flowers, bruised bluebells and cut grass – an odd combination.

The wheel of her valiant little cart had worked loose, and it wobbled back and forth. She hoped it would last the journey. It had to, because she didn't have the strength to carry Lottie. In fact, she was too fatigued to carry herself much further.

She looked into the infinity of the sky, where the scattered stars winked and twinkled. There were such wonders in heaven and on earth to enjoy, she thought. A glow on the horizon signalled the appearance of the moon.

She whispered a little rhyme that came instantly to her.
Oh, glowing moon that shines so bright, lead us to Chaffinch House this night, and may we find some welcome kin to invite such weary travellers in.

An unwelcome thought eroded her confidence. What if her family no longer lived there?

‘Then you'll go to that church and you'll swallow your pride and throw yourself on the mercy of the rector,' she said out loud.

The moon appeared, rising up from behind a stand of trees with a fierce incandescent glow. It was a good omen to light her path to the village.

It was a friendly place with its twinkling windows, and the moonlight shining on the water of a pond. But dogs began to bark at her passing, and she was glad she hadn't walked through the village during the day, for even though it was dark she saw the curtains twitch and sensed curious eyes on her.