A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) (10 page)

“Sold at vastly inflated prices,” Mrs Jebson finished the sentence for her then turned with a triumphant grin to her husband, “What did I tell you, William? Hanbury is the very place for us to set up shop! West Wimpleford will never make our fortune for us. I must insist that you now take seriously my suggestion that we move to Hanbury!”

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘Ovem Lupo Committere’ – To entrust the sheep to the wolf – to take an action which will surely lead to disaster

              A stark silence greeted this pronouncement.

              It was a painful few seconds before Verity, ever careful of the feelings of others, came to Will’s rescue – for it was very clear that he was both embarrassed and distressed by his wife’s comments.

              “How delightful that would be,” she said, trying, but largely failing, to sound enthusiastic, “Will’s shop would be a welcome addition to the town’s facilities.”

              He managed to force a smile to his stiff face, but it was evident to all that he was far from feeling happy, “That is kind, Mrs Underwood, but I fear my wife has allowed her enthusiasm to overset her common sense. I cannot possibly leave my shop here and risk such an unproven enterprise. It is quite out of the question.”

              “We’ll see about that,” answered Martha, “Now, Mrs Underwood, I think it is time we left the gentlemen to their port and we’ll take tea in the parlour. Lucy!” she added at the top of her voice, making poor Verity start and a look of pained surprise pass over Underwood’s face.

              The girl came to the doorway, “What is it?”

              “What is it, Mrs Jebson,” corrected her mistress tartly. “Kindly fetch tea into the parlour, then take the girls and put them to bed.”

              “Yes,
Mrs Jebson,
” answered the servant, in a tone which Verity thought was going to call more chastisement down upon her head, but which Martha had evidently decided to either ignore, or she had missed the sarcastic intonation.

              “Hurry with the tray and then take the girls upstairs and look lively or I’ll know the reason why.”

              “Yes, ma’am,” responded the girl, with a bobbed half curtsey. Verity was not sure if this was more sarcasm or if Lucy had decided that perhaps she had pushed her luck as far as it was safe to go and was now behaving as a good servant ought.

              They retired to the parlour, with Verity casting a beseeching glance over her shoulder, which Underwood correctly surmised was aimed at himself and was a mute request that he should not linger over the port and re-join the ladies as soon as possible. Verity did not want to be left to the tender mercies of a hostess who had already shown herself to be oblivious of the social skills which would have made this evening of unpleasant revelations much more bearable for the Underwoods.

              As they took a seat one of the little girls suddenly staggered to her feet and tottered across the room offering her dolly to her mother. Martha addressed no word to her, nor even looked at her child but simply fended her off with an outstretched hand as though she were a troublesome puppy. She turned her attention to Verity as though the incident had never happened. The child looked confused for a moment, and then brought the doll to Verity instead. She took it and admired it fulsomely, praising the way it had been undressed and redressed – something which was obvious from the haphazard way it had been accomplished. The cloth dolls were beautifully stitched and their clothing was complete, from tiny, authentically boned stays to petticoats and little straw bonnets. The two girls’ stubby fingers had evidently found the intricacies of the buttons, laces and ribbons quite difficult and there were small rents already in some of the material, but all in all Verity was impressed by how well they had stood up to the rough play.

              Martha allowed the exchange to go on for a few seconds, then she said with barely concealed impatience, “That’s enough now, Prue. Lucy will be here presently to take you to bed. Say goodnight and thank you to Mrs Underwood. You too, Minta.”

              The two girls obediently rose to their feet and spoke the words required of them, not very clearly, for their speech was not good, but Verity smiled and bade them goodnight. She was touched when first Prue then Minta stretched out their arms to her for a hug and she gladly obliged, charmed by their sweet and open natures.

              Martha raised an eyebrow, evidently not pleased by the display of affection, “Hm, they don’t usually take to strangers so readily.”

              Verity felt oddly honoured that she had been the recipient.

              Lucy arrived at that moment with the tea tray, which she set down upon an occasional table by the side of the settee and then she led the children away.

Verity waited until she heard their footsteps on the stairs, then, less to learn what she could about the woman, more to fill the awkward silence which had ensued once the children were gone, she turned to her hostess and asked candidly, “Mrs Jebson, I was so interested to hear you say that you wanted to move to Hanbury, but I wonder if you can possibly be seriously considering it, as Mr Jebson seems so very adamant that it cannot happen.”

              Martha gave a tinkling laugh, equally as carefree as it was scathing, “Oh, him! As if it has anything to do with William. He can pretend to be masterful in front of you and Mr Underwood, hoping to save face, but he knows as well as I do that he would have nothing if I hadn’t married him. He was my father’s penniless apprentice when I decided I would take him on and make something of him. He had the stupid idea that he could work hard and save up enough money to go to University in Scotland and become a doctor. I soon disabused him of that notion, I can tell you. Everyone knows that only the very rich can afford that sort of an education.”

              “Will wanted to be a doctor? That explains why he seems so much more learned than most ...”

              “Shop keepers?” interrupted Martha derisively. “The hours he spent poring over his books and diagrams, I’m not surprised in the least, but that, in spite of his silly ambitions, is all that he is.”

              “I was going to say more learned than most apothecaries,” corrected Verity gently, “but surely he should have been encouraged to become a doctor? He has such a way with him that he would make an excellent medic.”

              “And how many years would I have had to wait to become a wife, whilst he pursued a fantasy which could never come to fruition? I don’t mind admitting, Mrs Underwood, that time was not on my side. You may not have noticed, but I am a little older than my husband.”

              Verity was far too kind to concede that she had indeed noticed that a good few years separated Will and his wife, so she remained silent.

              “Anyway, I had my way, as is my habit – I am rarely thwarted once I set my mind upon something.”

              Looking into the face of her companion, noting the strong jaw, the determined set of the eyes, Verity could well believe that Martha was not easily daunted and she felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Will, who, being kindly and obliging, would find it almost impossible to gainsay this woman, especially if she played upon his chivalrous nature.

              “But you evidently have some aspirations. This proposed move to Hanbury would seem to be all about improving your business.”

              “Oh, I have no objection to William making more money for his family – in fact, I insist upon it. The children are getting older and they sadly will need care for their whole lives. It is unthinkable that they will be able to marry or even work for their keep. My own feeling is that we should send them to a place where they can be looked after away from the prying eyes of our neighbours. I despise and resent the constant looks of sympathy which are sent my way. But William will not hear of it. It is easy for him; he goes off to the shop every day. He does not feel trapped as I do. He sees his two little girls as angels in the house, not a burden which will drag us down for the rest of our lives.”

              Whilst Verity could empathize with what Martha was saying, and her heart ached for the situation in which this tragic family found themselves, there was a large part of her that was appalled that a woman could even consider for one single second committing her children to an asylum – for that was what Martha was hinting. Rich people could afford to send their troubled relations to fancy sanatoria where they would be cared for well, even though they were still isolated from the rest of society. However, for poorer people, the only alternative would be public madhouse, a Bedlam, and that would be a living nightmare. Verity was all too aware of what went on in such places, with the inmates treated little better than animals. It was not uncommon for patients to be chained up, or tied to their beds and controlled by dousing in freezing water or brutal beatings. As if this were not bad enough, they were also put on display for the amusement of the general public, who paid for the privilege of mocking and debasing the unfortunate insane.

              “Oh, pray do not even think such a thing,” she pleaded, “take my vow that I will do all I can to help you move to Hanbury if you think that will ensure you have enough money to keep your dear little girls at home with you and Will.”

              Martha’s tiny malicious smile of triumph was not observed by the distraught Verity, who was too deeply engrossed in her horrified imaginings of life in an asylum to notice her companion’s expression.

*

              Oddly – and probably for the first time ever in the history of human kind – the conversation in the dining room amongst the men was almost exactly the same as the ladies’ discussion in the other room. Namely the Jebsons proposed removal from West Wimpleford to Hanbury.

              It was Lindell who broached the subject first, for though he knew Will slightly, it was as a customer in his shop only. He was not a member of the vicar’s flock, who were mainly inhabitants of Dacorum-in-the-Marsh. This being the case he had only a vague interest in where the gentleman and his family resided except for his own convenience when winter came and everyone fell victim to the usual coughs and colds.

              “Is Mrs Jebson quite serious about making a new start in Hanbury, Will?”

              The apothecary looked grim, “I’m very much afraid she is, but she can disabuse herself of the notion, because it is not going to happen.”

              Underwood looked at his new friend thoughtfully. The revelation was not one that he had been expecting, nor had the possibility occurred to him until this evening. However, now that the notion had been proffered, he saw that it could be very much to his advantage.

              The truth was that Underwood had very nearly the perfect life in Hanbury – thanks mainly to his wife, who unobtrusively saw to his every comfort, but that was not something he considered, so accustomed to it was he. He only knew that he enjoyed a degree of isolation in his home which suited him well, since it was just a couple of miles outside the town, but it was near enough, when the mood was upon him, for him to make good use of all that Hanbury had to offer, from theatres and shops to inns which served good food and fine wines, from a commodious lending library to the health-giving spa. He was surrounded by a coterie of close friends, but had the added fascination of an ever-changing population of visitors to pique his ever-lively curiosity. Certainly the winter weather could be harsh, but that simply gave him the excuse to sit by the fire and while away the cold evenings with his nose in a book and also freed him from the tedium of having to call upon his acquaintance or have them call upon him, for months at a time.

              For Will Jebson to join him in Hanbury, bringing with him all the expertise of his profession, as well as his pleasant company, was something that Underwood, as a self-confessed hypochondriac, thought was a splendid idea.

              “Forgive my impertinence, but may I ask why is she so very set on the notion, my dear fellow, and why are you resolutely against it?” he asked, choosing to ignore the fact that Will very obviously had no wish to discuss the matter.

              Will could never bring himself to be deliberately rude – especially not to someone of whom he was fond, so he sighed heavily and replied, “Martha thinks that it would be to our financial benefit to live somewhere which attracts a high proportion of invalids.”

              “In that she is not mistaken, is she?”

              “Perhaps not, but her thoughts are all for money – she gives no importance to our little girls’ emotional wellbeing.”

              Both Underwood and Lindell were confused and their blank looks told Will that he had failed to convince them of the strength of his argument. He attempted to elucidate, “Prue and Minta have lived in Wimpleford all their lives. People here are used to them and their odd ways. To take them away from everything they have known; from a place where people accept them, and take them to an alien environment, where they will doubtless be whispered about, have fingers pointed at them and cruel comments made in their hearing – no, gentlemen, I will not do that to my daughters, not for all the riches that Hanbury may or may not have to offer.”

              His guests could see why he might be concerned, but they were both swift to assure him that he was mistaken. Underwood in particular was adamant that he would find no such prejudice in his adopted home.

              “My friend, I fear you have lashed yourself into a frenzy for no cause at all. You seem to forget that Hanbury is full of people who have troubles as challenging as your girls, and some far worse. I can name you half a dozen young men who have sustained the most terrible, disfiguring injuries in battle but who live quite happily in Hanbury, with never an ill-word or scathing glance sent in their direction. Prue and Minta would be no novelty there, I do assure you.”