Poor Little Rich Girl (44 page)

‘I thought you said Miss Elliott could not control Leonora when you wrote to my husband,’ Rosalind said craftily. ‘You made it clear that it was Leonora’s behaviour which had caused you to send her away from her father’s house, yet now you are blaming the governess.’

That had ended the interview. Miss Hetherington-Smith had gazed at her blankly for a moment and had then said, in a strange, sing-song voice: ‘God works in a mysterious way and I am only His mouthpiece. Kindly leave me.’

Rosalind thought Miss Hetherington-Smith was a little mad and this impression was heightened when a tall, thin woman, who introduced herself as Miss Hutchinson, stopped her in the hallway as the butler was leading her back to the front door.

‘Miss Hetherington-Smith has not been quite herself for several months,’ the woman hissed, glancing nervously about her as she did so. ‘I have spoken to the doctor and he says my employer is suffering from delusions and should be treated with great care. Both he and I feel that the child is a good deal safer
away from this house. I should have written to Mr Hetherington-Smith myself, but …’

‘Hutchinson!’ The voice, high yet harsh, came from the room which Rosalind had just left and the companion hurried off towards the sound without another glance in Rosalind’s direction.

Now, hailing a second cab to take her to the convent school, Rosalind reflected that whatever she might find there, it could not be worse than what she had seen in Shaw Street. The house itself was rather a grand one, but the state of it! The butler, whose name was Dawson, was so old and doddery that it was all he could do to swing the heavy front door open, and it was plain to Rosalind that the dust and dirt she saw all about her was the result of many weeks of neglect.

I suppose it’s none of my business, Rosalind told herself, settling into the worn leather seat. Yes it is, though; I remember Leonard telling me that the house was his property and that he paid his sister generously to be chatelaine there in his absence. Rosalind heaved a deep and weary sigh. Once I have dealt with Lonnie and her situation, I suppose I will have to do something about Leonard’s house, she thought ruefully. That old sister of his isn’t completely sane, I’m sure of it. But if I explain to Leonard how things are, he will feel he has to come over himself and deal with it. Oh, my dear love! How I do miss you!

‘Missing?’ Rosalind clapped her hand to her heart and stared incredulously at the Mother Superior across the wide, leather-topped desk. ‘How can you possibly have lost a child? Are you sure she’s not somewhere in the building or in the grounds?’

The Mother Superior was a tall, gaunt woman with the sort of face normally seen in Italian Renaissance paintings. Now her expression became grave as well as worried at Rosalind’s words. ‘I’m deeply ashamed to have to tell you, Mrs Hetherington-Smith, that we are not sure exactly when Leonora left the building. She was sent to the punishment cupboard for – for breaking the rules, but naturally was released to her dormitory at bedtime. Next morning, she was to return to the punishment cupboard since she refused to apologise for her bad behaviour. Sister Magdalene assumed that Sister Enda had dealt with her incarceration and Sister Enda assumed that Sister Magdalene had done the deed. In fact, neither of them had seen the child and we have to assume that she slipped away during the night.’

Rosalind stared at the older woman. ‘Are you telling me that you actually shut my stepdaughter in a cupboard, a horrible, dark cupboard, for hours at a time, as a punishment?’ she asked incredulously. ‘We are talking about a child not yet ten years of age. No wonder Leonora ran away.’ She stared challengingly at the older woman. ‘I would have run away myself,’ she ended.

The Mother Superior’s long, olive-skinned face reddened slightly above the cheekbones, but she said haughtily: ‘Leonora is a very difficult child, Mrs Hetherington-Smith, as you will no doubt discover when she is found. We have done our best to turn a wild, ill-educated little savage into a meek and biddable schoolchild. If we are to be allowed to continue with our work …’

‘Continue with your work!’ Rosalind jumped to her feet, feeling the tide of blood rise within her own cheeks. ‘Just as soon as Lonnie is found, she
will become a pupil in a decent school, where the teachers care for their children and bring them up with love. I pray she has not come to any harm, for this most certainly will be laid at your door. And if she is not found …’

Mother Superior’s icy voice cut across Rosalind’s hot and impetuous speech. ‘The matter has been placed in the hands of the police,’ she said coldly. ‘I understand your anxiety and forgive your rash and heedless words, since I am sure, after a little cogitation, you will regret what you have said. It is, after all, a worrying time for you.’

Rosalind bit back the angry retort on the tip of her tongue and turned towards the door. ‘If you find Leonora, I trust that you will inform me immediately. I am staying at the Adelphi Hotel,’ she said coolly. ‘I shall go straight to the police station from here. Good morning!’

Rosalind had actually left the convent and was walking briskly along the flagstones when she heard the swift patter of feet behind her. She stopped when a small hand clutched at her elbow and looked down into the face of a tiny, wrinkled nun, whose pale-blue eyes were blinking rapidly. ‘Mrs Hetherington-Smith, the Mother Superior sent me after you. She thought it might assist you to know that Leonora’s governess called at the convent earlier and left us her address, so that we might tell her if … when her former pupil was found. Her name is Miss Hester Elliott and she is at present residing in a lodging house just off the Scotland Road. Her address is Number 10, Stansfield Court.’

Rosalind felt as though a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It had been clear from the first moment she had set eyes on her sister-in-law
that she would get no help from that quarter. The nuns had not been obstructive, but they had not been helpful either. Rosalind was in awe of the police force and did not feel capable of dealing with them should they take Lonnie’s disappearance lightly. But Leonard had thought a great deal of Hester Elliott, considering her both likeable and extremely competent; if she could just get hold of Hester, she was sure that between them they could find Lonnie.

Ben awoke. For a moment he wondered where on earth he was, for though he shared a bedroom with Dick and Ted he had his own little truckle bed, yet now he could feel someone curled up within the circle of his arms, someone who was snuffling heavily as he stirred.

Ben glanced around him and realised, all in a moment, that he was in the cottage on the Llandegla moors and that he had found Lonnie. He even remembered – particularly when he wincingly moved – her attack on him and his subsequent fall on to the hard quarry tiles. Groaning slightly beneath his breath, he sat up and gingerly felt the back of his head. There was an awesome lump the size of a hen’s egg on the back of his skull which hurt to touch, and his elbow must be black and blue, for when he bent his arm pains shot from his wrist to his shoulder.

Trying not to disturb Lonnie, Ben unwound the thick curtains and scrambled to his feet. Bright sunlight was pouring in through the window and when he went over and looked out he saw that the sky was a brilliant blue, without a cloud in sight. Lonnie was still curled up, so he decided to pay a quick visit to the
ty bach
. He meant to beg some
breakfast from the Hughes family but thought he ought to wake Lonnie first. He could imagine the panic she would feel if she awoke to find herself alone once more.

He was returning from the
ty bach
when he heard someone whistling. He hurried round the corner of the cottage and saw Meirion Hughes’s dad, his cap on the back of his head, striding past the gate. Ben broke into a run and was greeted with astonishment by his erstwhile neighbour.

‘Thought you’d gone, we did, mun,’ Mr Hughes said genially. ‘Forget something, did you? You’re up wi’ the lark, I’ll say that for you. Our Meirion is still abed, I’ll be bound.’

‘Oh, Mr Hughes, what
is
the time?’ Ben said eagerly. ‘I’m in a bit o’ trouble, to tell the truth. A friend of – of my sister didn’t realise we’d gone back to Liverpool and she come a-visiting last night. Me – me mam sent me up to make sure she were all right – she’s only a kid – but of course there isn’t a crumb of food in the house and we’re really hungry, the pair of us. I wondered if – if Mrs Hughes could give us breakfast? A cup o’ tea and a bite o’ bread would be just fine.’

‘First things first, bach,’ Mr Hughes said. He fished a large old-fashioned turnip watch out of his waistcoat pocket and consulted it. ‘Not yet seven, it is, but my good lady had the porridge cooking over the stove an hour ago and there’s always bread in the crock and butter on the slate shelf, to say nothin’ of tea in the pot. You and your pal go along there as soon as you’re able – say I sent you – and Mrs Hughes will give you something to line your stummicks.’

‘Thanks ever so much, Mr Hughes,’ Ben said
gratefully. ‘Can you tell me what time there’s a bus from the village?

Mr Hughes sucked his teeth thoughtfully, cocking his head on one side and frowning with the effort of remembering the timetable. ‘There’s one at eight,’ he said at last. ‘You and your pal had best get going as soon as may be, though, ’cos your mam’s had enough trouble without worrying over a young
cnaf
like yourself.’

Ben was happy to obey and quite soon he and Lonnie, having had a brisk splash under the pump in the yard, locked the cottage behind them and set off for the Hughes’ place. Ben had explained to Lonnie as they tidied themselves up that his father had died and the family had returned to Elmore Street. ‘None of them thought that you’d not know about me dad’s death,’ he had said, rather proudly. ‘Dick and Hester and me mam were all waiting for you in Elmore Street, certain that you’d go there. But I nipped down to the ferry, hoping to catch you before you left, and when I realised you must have already gone, I followed you.’

‘I hope your mam won’t be very cross with me,’ Lonnie said, rather apprehensively. ‘But she’s so kind that if I beg very hard, perhaps she’ll let me stay with her until my daddy comes for me. I’m sure he will come when he hears what’s been happening to me,’ she finished.

Mrs Hughes greeted them cheerfully, fed them porridge, boiled eggs and bread and butter, and sent them on their way feeling well satisfied, though in Ben’s case at least, still a little anxious. I hope to God Mam hasn’t called the scuffers in to find me, he thought, as he ushered his companion aboard the first bus, but I dare say when she knows I’ve found
Lonnie she won’t scold too much – especially if Mrs Beasdale managed to get a message to her, telling her I’m all right.

When they eventually arrived at Elmore Street, Ben and Lonnie’s return was in the nature of a Triumph. Ben entered the kitchen rather cautiously, fearing to find the Law there before him, or his mother torn between hysterics and rage, but instead Mrs Bailey hugged them both indiscriminately, with tears running down her face, for though Mrs Beasdale had sent a neighbour’s lad over on the ferry to explain where Ben had gone she had worried about him all night, far from convinced that he would find Lonnie safe and sound.

‘But all’s well that ends well,’ she said, sitting the pair of them down at her kitchen table and feeding them with weak tea and new-baked bread spread with margarine and gooseberry jam. It had taken them a good while to get back to Liverpool and they had been glad to tuck in to the bread and jam since the family’s main meal was saved for when the workers returned in the evening. ‘I suppose it’s our duty to tell the scuffers, though I’m mortal afraid that if we do they’ll take young Lonnie back to that convent school, and Miss Elliott said as how Mr Hetherington-Smith would be furious if he knew his daughter had been sent to such a place.’ She clasped her head with a thin hand. ‘What would be best to do?’ she said worriedly, more to herself than to the children. ‘It’s times like this that I really miss my dear Bob. He’d have known what I ought to do.’

‘It’s all right, Mam,’ Ben said comfortingly. ‘Dick will be home this evenin’, and you know wharra
steady feller he is. He’ll tell us what to do near on as good as our dad would have done.’

‘Aye … but Dick’s never back here much before half-past six, even if he’s nigh on finished a job when the hooter goes,’ Mrs Bailey said worriedly.

‘I could wrap my shawl well round me and go and see Hester,’ Lonnie suggested. ‘After all, my daddy left me in her charge, I’m sure he did. And she’s not frightened of policemen or Miss Hetherington-Smith or the nuns or anyone. At least, I don’t think she is. Then you wouldn’t have to worry,’ she finished.

Mrs Bailey laughed but shook her head. ‘No, it wouldn’t be right to send you off. You stay right here until Dick comes home,’ she decided. ‘As for you, young Ben, hadn’t you better go along to Madison’s and tell him as you’re real sorry you didn’t turn up yesterday? I dare say he were relyin’ on you to help him clean down and that.’

‘I wish I could come with you,’ Lonnie said wistfully as Ben pulled on his jacket and crossed to the back door. ‘It would be lovely to see Mr Madison and all his animals, but perhaps it would only make me miss Kitty more. Do you suppose that my aunt will let me have Kitty back once my father comes to rescue me?’

‘I’m sure your aunt will be only too glad to get rid of the cat,’ Ben said. ‘And if your father takes you back to India and Kitty can’t go with you, I’m pretty sure our mam would let her live here.’

‘That would be lovely; your mam is
so
good,’ Lonnie said gratefully. ‘And now I’m going to help her to get the supper so when you and Dick come home there’ll be something nice waiting for you.’