Yew Tree Gardens Page 8

  ‘When you go and see your mother, ask Mrs Hilton to come and see us,’ Gil said. ‘I told you yesterday – we’re desperate for help. If the daughter’s old enough, she can live here too and help around the place.’

  ‘Will it upset Mrs Hilton to go against the village?’ Walter asked.

  Lizzie smiled. ‘Madge would go against the King himself if she thought she was in the right. She’s very plain-speaking. But the daughter’s …’ She hesitated. ‘Amy’s grown-up but she’s slow-thinking. Madge won’t put her in the workhouse, though, whatever anyone says.’

  ‘Is the daughter violent?’

  ‘Bless you, no. Amy wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s terrified of anyone she doesn’t know, and of some she does know, too. There are village lads as torment her if they get the chance. It’s not right, but Mr Chapman just laughs about it.’

  ‘What’s it got to do with him?’

  ‘He’s sort of taken over in the village, acting like he’s squire.’

  ‘Has he, now.’ The more Gil heard, the less he liked the sound of Chapman. Fancy laughing when people tormented someone.

  By ten o’clock Lizzie was back from her mother’s with a very thin woman whose eyes were red and swollen, as if she’d been crying. She was holding the hand of a young woman taller than she was, a shambling, shapeless creature, who was half hiding behind her mother.

  As Gil sought for the right way to conduct an interview for a cook, a task his mother and the housekeeper had always undertaken, Madge took over. ‘Lizzie says you’re looking for a cook, sir.’

  ‘Yes. You must know that the others have left, and why.’

  ‘Everyone knows. He wants to tell us how to think, that Mr Chapman does, but I make up my own mind about people. I might as well say at the start that I can’t do fancy cooking, sir, though if you bought me a cookery book, I dare say I could learn some new dishes, yes and enjoy doing it, too. And I don’t mind helping out anywhere to start off with. You’ll be at sixes and sevens for a while.’

  ‘What about your daughter?’

  ‘Amy can do simple jobs, like filling the wood boxes and bringing up your hot water. She’s very strong and I don’t let her sit around idle. It just takes her longer to learn new things.’

  ‘Then she could work for her keep.’

  ‘Oh, sir!’ Her lips wobbled for a minute, then she nodded. ‘I’ve got my own furniture. Can I use that in my room? Farmer says he’ll store it for me in his barn, but I don’t want insects getting into my mattresses and bed linen.’

  ‘Of course you can. And put the rest in our attics here.’

  She had to breathe deeply and was clearly near tears. ‘You’re kind, sir. Like Miss Bennerden was.’ Madge nodded as if that settled something. ‘If you still want me, I’ll be happy to work for you.’

  He beamed at her. ‘I do want you … Cook.’

  She smiled back, relaxing visibly. ‘Is that my new title?’

  ‘It is indeed.’

  So they had a cook and a general helper now, Gil thought, feeling pleased with himself.

  He went upstairs after the interview, and as he looked out of his bedroom window, he saw Madge stop just beyond the vegetable garden at the side, thinking herself out of sight. She indulged in a short, sharp bout of weeping against her daughter’s shoulder and the girl wasn’t too stupid to offer her comfort, patting her mother and holding her close.

  Gil felt a lump in his throat at the sight of that.

  After a few moments, Madge scrubbed her face, kissed her daughter’s cheek and took hold of her hand, then hurried off through the woods to pack up her home.

  How quickly poor people could lose everything. How little it took to help them. He was getting a series of rapid lessons about this.

  After he’d shaved and washed, Gil decided to go through his new home room by room. He wanted to fix the layout in his mind and learn what each room had been used for. He was relieved that Walter left him to do that on his own, while he helped Lizzie.

  Oh, the peace of the place! No sounds of traffic, just birdsong and the sound of the wind.

  And yet, even in this peaceful village, someone had thrown a brick through his window last night. Would they do it again tonight? Or something worse?

  Lizzie had cleared up the broken glass this morning and Walter had nailed a plank across the broken window. But the message carried by the brick was burnt into Gil’s brain.

  Who didn’t want him here?

  There was one obvious answer.

  Mr Mortlake arrived at Oakdene at two-thirty in the afternoon, by which time Gil knew every curling line and flower on the patterned carpet in the sitting room. He wasn’t sure why he felt so apprehensive, but he did. He couldn’t settle to anything and was reduced to pacing slowly up and down the room, trying to avoid treading on certain parts of the pattern in the carpet to distract himself.

  Walter showed the lawyer in, and after Gil had shaken Mr Mortlake’s hand, he said, ‘Stay with us, Walter.’

  Mr Mortlake looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Walter is like an honorary uncle and I’m not going to hide that any longer,’ Gil explained. ‘He’s known me since I was a child and he’s far more than a servant to me. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know what I’d have done during the past few months.’

  ‘You’re lucky to have a friend like that.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  When they were all seated, the lawyer asked, ‘And how are you settling in? I’m sure Mrs Tibbins has made you comfortable.’

  Gil explained the changed situation and saw the shock on the other man’s face.

  ‘I can’t believe this has happened in a village like Pypard West. The people here have always seemed so friendly.’

  ‘It all seems to be connected to a Mr Duncan Chapman.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know him, obviously.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I gather he’s a distant relative of Miss Bennerden.’

  ‘He says he is, and he certainly knows about her mother’s family, more than she knew herself. However, I haven’t been able to trace the connection and I have tried, believe me.’

  Another pause, as the lawyer bit his lip, seeming uncertain whether to continue or not. ‘And …?’ Gil prompted.

  ‘She took his word for that at first and treated him like a nephew, but she lived to regret it.’

  ‘Oh?’ Gil waited.

  ‘This must go no further, because I have no proof, but I fear he stole items from this house, presumably because he was short of money. She wouldn’t have him prosecuted, though she refused to see him after that. Earlier on, he’d tried to persuade her to let him help her with her money, though what sort of financial skill a penniless man has to offer, I cannot think. I was honoured that she refused his help and continued to place her trust in me.’

  Gil didn’t like the sound of all this.

  Mr Mortlake sighed. ‘She was a dear lady, the kindest imaginable. Over the years, she was cheated once or twice because if there was doubt, she preferred to trust people. And I must admit that more often than not, her trust worked miracles and brought out the best in people. In the case of Duncan Chapman, it didn’t and that upset her greatly.’

  ‘I wish I’d known her.’

  ‘I think she’d have been pleased with you, Mr Rycroft.’

  He was a bit surprised at this compliment. ‘How can you tell? You don’t know me.’

  ‘I pride myself on my ability to judge people, and have rarely been wrong. Besides, from what you’ve told me, you’ve already started helping others less fortunate than yourself. She would have approved of the way you’re treating your servants.’

  Gil shrugged and changed the subject, embarrassed by the unaccustomed praise. ‘Well, I’ve certainly had no experience in dealing with money, so I hope you’ll continue to act as my lawyer and help me with the financial side of things, as you did her.’

  ‘I’d be honoured to do so, Mr Rycroft.’


  ‘Did she leave Chapman anything?’

  ‘No. She cut him out of her will completely and left a letter with me in case he tried to go to court over it.’

  Walter cleared his throat and when they looked at him said, ‘He can’t be short of money now, not if he’s taken on three new servants.’

  ‘That puzzles me, I must admit. The fellow’s been living from hand to mouth for a while and still has debts that haven’t been cleared.’ Mortlake shook his head. ‘Ah well, he’s lost out now, so we’ll forget about him.’

  It would be rather difficult to forget about a man who lived in the same village and who had already set people against you, Gil thought. But that was his business, not his lawyer’s.

  Mr Mortlake took out some papers. ‘Let us turn to a happier subject: the bequests. There are quite a few smaller legacies. I have the list here. Miss Bennerden wished you to see these people, Mr Rycroft, and tell them of their good fortune in person, rather than me sending them a letter. Most of them live in the village or nearby. She thought it would be a good way for you to meet people in the neighbourhood.’

  He took out some keys. ‘There is a safe place in the house, where Miss Alice kept her more valuable items, silverware and one or two pieces of jewellery. Let me show it to you.’

  He led the way down to the wine cellar, which had a locked door to one side. Beyond the door were more bottles of wine and two casks, labelled ‘Port’ and ‘Sherry’ respectively. He moved the cask of sherry forward and it rolled easily, together with what at first appeared to be a solid section of wall but then opened to reveal a recess behind it, about five foot high, with shelves and double doors.

  When the doors were opened, they revealed bundles wrapped in green baize and boxes of various sizes, all fairly small.

  ‘I’ll leave you to go through these at your leisure,’ Mr Mortlake said. ‘I just wanted to make sure you knew how to open the secure cupboard. I’ve included a complete list of the contents in the papers I shall leave with you.’

  He showed them how to close the cupboard by treading on a spring which sent the cask and wooden ‘wall’ behind it rolling back into place. ‘A very simple device, but effective, installed by the first owner. Miss Bennerden didn’t like to leave all her valuables in the bank because sometimes she’d enjoy using them. Every now and then she’d invite people to dinner and bring some of these things out, including her mother’s jewellery, which I presume you’ll give to your wife one day.’

  Gil couldn’t imagine himself marrying, but didn’t spoil the moment by saying so.

  When the lawyer had left, Gil beamed at Walter. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’

  ‘It is, lad. It is. See that you deserve it all.’

  ‘Don’t give in to this, you mean?’ He indicated his arm with a grimace. ‘I can’t promise not to fret now and then. It’s been such a big change. As to me marrying, I doubt any woman will want a man with this.’

  ‘You have other attributes that will more than make up for that.’

  ‘The money, you mean? I don’t want a wife who’s marrying me for my money, thank you very much.’

  ‘You’re still a good-looking young man. People will like you for yourself.’

  Gil grimaced. ‘I shall stay single, Walter. I’ve decided on that.’

  He didn’t challenge the disbelieving expression on the other man’s face or tell him the main reason why. Since the accident Gil hadn’t felt the need for a woman, something he’d experienced regularly before. He very much feared he was now unable to father a child.

  But he wasn’t going to tell anyone about that, not even a doctor. A man had his pride.

  Chapter Six

  ‘You ought to write to your father,’ Walter told Gil. ‘He’ll be upset that you didn’t tell him exactly where you were going and why. Don’t make it worse.’

  ‘I suppose I’ll have to let him know my address. I need my clothes and things sending. But he’ll come haring down to tell me what to do, you know he will.’

  ‘And he won’t be able to make you do it, will he? So you can afford to be kind to him.’

  ‘Me? Kind to him?’

  ‘Yes, lad. He doesn’t know how to change his ways, but you do.’

  Which left Gil thoughtful.

  And of course, his father turned up two days later, without warning, driven there in a motor car, bringing some of Gil’s things. The first anyone knew about the visit was when Lizzie answered the door and was scolded for not inviting Mr and Mrs Rycroft straight in.

  Gil wasn’t having the girl treated like that, not after the hard work she’d been putting in so cheerfully. He hurried out into the hall. ‘Ah, Mother. Father. You should have let us know you were coming. And how is Lizzie supposed to know who you are when she’s never met you, Father?’

  As he went to kiss his mother’s cheek, he winked at Lizzie, who flashed him a grateful look as she took his father’s coat and hat, then waited for Gil to help his mother out of her wrap. She was wearing a very fashionable tailor-made costume in a soft grey, with a straight, narrow skirt just clear of the ground. On her head she wore a silk-covered toque, decorated with a big bow of dark-blue ribbon, rather than one of the huge hats decorated with flowers that she usually favoured. Round her neck was a long scarf, which she handed to Gil. She couldn’t have needed the scarf to keep her hat on because the car was a Daimler with enclosed seating for the passengers.

  He had intended to take his parents into the sitting room for a chat before they did the inevitable tour of the house, but his father started walking up and down the hall, throwing open the doors without waiting for an invitation to explore.

  ‘Come and sit down before you look round, Father,’ he said at last, hoping he sounded firm.

  His mother linked her arm in his and murmured, ‘If we go into your drawing room, he’ll soon follow.’

  ‘I’d rather look round first and see what we’ve got,’ his father said.

  We? Did his father think this house was family property? As Gil opened his mouth to protest that assumption, his mother intervened.

  ‘I’m longing for a cup of tea, Bertram dear.’

  ‘I’m sure Lizzie will be bringing us a tea tray.’ Gil gave in to his mother’s tugging on his arm, hoping Walter would check that the tray was perfectly presented.

  They went into the sitting room, and to his relief, his father did follow them a few seconds later, muttering something about this being an old-fashioned sort of place.

  Gil made sure his mother was comfortably seated, took his usual chair and indicated the other to his father.

  ‘How much did the old lady leave you, Gil?’

  ‘Enough to live on comfortably.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Bertram, dear, it’s not your business.’

  ‘He’s my son, ain’t he? He doesn’t know much about money and he’s going to need my help to look after it. So of course I need to know what we’re dealing with.’

  His father always barked orders. Gil hadn’t realised how much he hated that till he was free to run his own house peacefully, without anyone shouting at others who didn’t dare shout back, like servants and youngest sons. He was about to refuse to give details, when his mother spoke in a much sharper voice.

  ‘Bertram!’

  His father harrumphed and fell quiet.

  Gil hid a smile. Occasionally his mother spoke in that firm tone, without adding ‘dear’, and it generally stopped whatever his father was doing. Mostly, though, she coaxed his father into doing as she wanted before he became too outrageous. Gil had never thought about it much, just accepted that. Now, he watched her tactics with more interest.

  ‘I think the exact details of my legacy are my own business,’ he said at last when he saw her looking at him as if to tell him to speak. ‘And I’m sure I’ll be quite capable of managing it, with the lawyer’s help.’

  ‘As the person who’s been supporting you for twenty-six years, I still think I’ve a right to know,’ h
is father snapped.

  ‘If you feel I need to repay you, then send an account to my lawyer.’

  It was his turn to be gently reprimanded by his mother.

  ‘Gil, dear.’

  He took a deep breath and said more quietly, ‘I’ll give you a general idea, Father, but the details are private. From what the lawyer says, after paying the expenses of running this house, I’ll have about four times what my old allowance was, which will be more than enough to manage on in the country. I will not, of course, need an allowance from you now, though I’m grateful for your support over the years.’

  His mother nodded approvingly at this more conciliatory speech.

  His father let out a low whistle. ‘As much as that, eh?’

  ‘Yes. Miss Bennerden was very generous.’

  There was a knock on the door and Lizzie came in, carrying a tray with a plate of scones, butter and jam on it, followed by Walter with a tray of tea-making equipment. He gave the maid an encouraging nod, as if reminding her to speak.

  ‘Cook’s sorry she can’t offer you better than this, Mrs Rycroft, but our other cook left without giving notice. Mrs Hilton has only just taken over the kitchen, so she’s not had time to settle in yet.’

  ‘I’m grateful for a cup of tea and the scones look very light.’

  ‘They’re delicious, ma’am.’ Lizzie bobbed an awkward curtsey and left.

  Mrs Rycroft smiled at Walter. ‘I’m glad you’re still with my son.’

  ‘Walter has become my … um, general factotum,’ Gil said.

  ‘I need to tender my resignation to you, Mr Rycroft, if you don’t mind,’ Walter put in diplomatically.

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course. Let’s consider that done immediately. I’ll send you the money for the wages you’re owed. Booth will take over my stables. You trained him well. Gil will need an older head to advise him here, I’m sure.’

  Walter nodded and left the room.