‘Even then,’ Gil said firmly.
They got out, and before the luggage was unloaded, both of them took a good look at the front of the house. It was square, built of stone, looking about a hundred years old. A neat, plain dwelling, suitable for a gentleman. The main entrance had a small portico over it, with two windows on either side. There were three storeys, but the third was the attics and had dormer windows set in the roof.
‘It’s a nice gentleman’s house, that is.’ Walter turned to help the cab driver unload the luggage.
‘My father would consider it small and undistinguished.’ Gil paid the driver and moved forward, insisting he could carry his own suitcase.
In all this time no one had come to the door to see who had arrived, so Gil banged the knocker sharply, waited, then banged it again, harder.
Still no one came.
He and Walter exchanged puzzled glances.
‘Mr Mortlake wouldn’t have sent us here today if there were no staff. I remember distinctly him saying the housekeeper, Mrs Tibbins, would look after us.’ Gil tried the door and it opened easily, so after a moment’s hesitation, he led the way inside. After all, it was his own house, wasn’t it? ‘We’ll leave our bags here and see if anyone is around.’
‘Don’t rush. Let’s look at it.’
‘I don’t feel as if it’s mine yet.’ But he couldn’t resist peeping into the rooms off the hall, finding them well furnished, with fires laid but not lit. It was cold and Gil couldn’t help shivering.
Hearing sounds of movement to the rear of the hall, he called out, ‘Is anyone there?’
The baize-covered door to the servants’ quarters opened to reveal a middle-aged woman, wearing her outdoor clothes. She had an unflattering felt hat jammed down on her head, with a big hatpin stuck through the back of it, and was staring at him in shock. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m the new owner, Gilbert Rycroft. And you are?’
‘If you’re the new owner, why isn’t Mr Mortlake with you?’ She turned her head to call, ‘Cyril, come here quick!’
Running footsteps then a burly man joined her. He too was wearing outdoor clothing.
‘This gentleman just let himself in. He says he’s the new owner.’
Another scowl greeted the newcomers. ‘Can you prove that?’ He studied them and added a belated, ‘Sir.’
Gil told himself they were right to be careful. As he moved across the hall, he tried to pull out the letter Mr Mortlake had given him. But of course, his left arm jerked awkwardly and it fell to the floor. He bent to pick it up then held it out. ‘Here.’
They both stared at his arm and nodded, as if they knew about his problems. ‘No need for the papers, sir,’ the woman said.
‘Miss Bennerden told us you had a bad arm,’ Cyril added.
This time they both spoke more politely, but still coolly,
Gil thought, as if they didn’t welcome his arrival.
‘You’ll forgive us for being careful, I’m sure, sir. Come into the kitchen. It’s a lot warmer there.’
He followed her, stopping to frown and look at her questioningly as he saw bundles and boxes by the door. Someone was clearly moving out.
‘Cyril and I were taking our things outside.’
‘Are you Mrs Tibbins?’
‘No, sir. She broke her leg two days ago and they took her to stay at her daughter’s over Swindon way. I’m Mary. I was the head housemaid. Cyril’s my husband. He was the gardener.’
Was?
Gil wondered. What did that mean? Why were they leaving?
Footsteps clattered down the kitchen stairs and a young woman of about twenty stopped on the bottom step, staring from one to the other, open-mouthed. She too had a bundle, but hers was wrapped in what looked like an old sheet.
‘There’s just me and Cyril here now, and Lizzie, who’s the maid of all work.’ Mary glanced at her husband, as if for support, and added, ‘And I’m sorry, sir, but we’re leaving today. Cook’s already gone.’
For a moment her words didn’t sink in, then Gil asked, ‘Does Mr Mortlake know about this?’
‘No, sir. We’ll send him a letter tomorrow.’
‘Why are you leaving?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it, sir. Only we’ve made up our minds and you’ll not change them. Some things aren’t right, whatever the lawyers say.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Ask Mr Mortlake. He’ll understand when he gets the letter. Me an’ my Cyril have another job to go to.’ She glanced
at her husband and jerked her head towards the door.
Their expressions were definitely not friendly yet Gil couldn’t think what he’d done to upset them. ‘It would only be fair to tell me why you’re leaving.’
‘It’s not my place. Come along, Lizzie.’
As the girl hesitated, looking as if she didn’t want to go, Walter stepped forward. ‘Surely you don’t have to leave just because they do, lass? We’ll still need help in the house, so you’ll still have a job.’
‘Lizzie!’ Mary’s voice was sharp.
Still the girl hesitated, looking from Gil to Walter, then she set down her bundles as if something she’d seen reassured her. ‘Mam needs my money, you know she does, Mary. And
I
haven’t got another job to go to.’
She looked pleadingly at Walter. ‘I’ll need to get my trunk off the cart, though.’
‘I’ll help you.’ He followed her outside, having to wait a few seconds at the door for a scowling Cyril to get out of their way.
‘That girl will regret this,’ Mary told Gil. ‘No one in the village is happy about you inheriting when others deserve it more. And they won’t be happy about her staying. That’s all I’ll say.’
She turned and went out to join her husband, leaving Gil even more puzzled. Who else deserved the money? There were other, smaller legacies still to be announced, but Miss Bennerden hadn’t wanted those people informed till he was here. And it was surely her right to leave her money as she chose?
He rubbed his forehead. It was aching and he was desperately thirsty. He turned with relief as Walter and the girl came back, carrying a battered trunk which they set next to the bundle
she’d left by the stairs. ‘Thank you for staying, Lizzie. We’re in great need of your help. I’m Walter Bilham, by the way.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ She looked back at Gil. ‘It’s the money, sir. Mam’s desperate for it since Dad run off. Only … Miss Bennerden used to pay me weekly and let me take the money home. I should have asked before I got my trunk, only I’m all of a maze today. Can you please pay me weekly as well? If you can’t, I’ll have to look for another job.’
‘Of course I can. When is your next money due?’
‘Today, sir. Mam and the kids won’t have enough to eat if I don’t get paid.’
Gil saw an opportunity of becoming a philanthropist immediately, which would no doubt please the ghost of Miss Bennerden if she was keeping an eye on him. ‘I’ll give you the wages at once.’
Her expression brightened. ‘Oh, thank you, sir. If I can only get the money for Mam, I shan’t care what them in the village say about me. It fair breaks my heart to see the little ’uns go hungry.’
‘How much?’
‘Five shillin’ a week, sir.’
It seemed a pitifully small amount. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his change purse, selecting three
half-crown
pieces and holding them out to her. ‘Here.’
She took two of them, leaving the third coin on his palm. ‘It’s too much, sir. I don’t get seven shillings and sixpence a week.’
‘You do now. You just got a rise for your loyalty.’ He could see Walter nodding approvingly.
‘Oh, sir.’ She clapped one hand to her mouth and blinked her eyes, but a few tears escaped. ‘It’ll be such a big help to Mam.’
He pressed the other coin into her hand and said gently, ‘You can run home tomorrow morning and give your mother the money.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ She mopped her eyes then pulled a pinafore out of the bundle and tied it round herself. ‘Right. What shall I do first?’
‘Can you please make us all a cup of tea, you included, Lizzie? Then perhaps you can tell me what’s going on. I have no idea why people are angry with me.’
He’d lost all desire to sleep, but his bad leg was aching furiously, so he limped across to the big kitchen table and sat down.
‘They said you had a gimpy leg and a bad arm, sir. Did you have an accident like Miss Bennerden?’
Somehow he wasn’t offended by her question. ‘Yes, a riding accident.’
‘Must have been a bad one. Still, you’ve got the house and all, haven’t you? So you’ll be all right.’
Walter grinned at him from the other side of the room and Gil knew what he was thinking. The girl was right. Suddenly he knew he would manage better, thanks to a kind lady. Whatever happened from now on, Miss Bennerden had given him a chance to do something useful with his life. Like helping Lizzie and her family. That might not be exciting but it was important.
He had felt so useless!
Leaning back in his chair, he watched Lizzie make a cup of tea, her movements quick and sure.
Walter came to sit next to him. ‘Nice big kitchen, this. Where did the cook go, Lizzie?’
‘She went to work for Mr Chapman as well. He must have got some money, because even though he has a big
house, it used to be just Ben as helped him out and Mrs Kendey to scrub and wash for him twice a week.’
She quickly produced a pot of tea and found them some stale bread, which she toasted and offered with a new jar of jam. ‘Sorry, sir. They took the butter and stuff that’d go bad with them. They wasn’t meaning to steal anything, but no one likes to see good food go to waste.’
‘You’ll need to eat too,’ Walter pointed out.
‘Ooh, it wouldn’t be right to eat with the master!’
‘It would if I say so,’ Gil told her. ‘Sit down, Lizzie. I won’t eat anything till you do.’
He waited till she was finishing her second cup of tea, after three slices of toast and jam. ‘I’d be really grateful if you’d tell me why people are so upset with me, Lizzie. I need to know.’
‘Well … it’s because of Mr Chapman, sir, Mr Duncan Chapman. He lives in the village and he’s a relative of Miss Bennerden as well. He did a lot for her after he come to live here, a few years ago. She got very frail towards the end, poor lady.’
‘What did he do?’
‘I think he helped her with her money. He said she always promised to make him her heir.’
That didn’t sound like the woman Mr Mortlake had talked about. It suddenly occurred to Gil that anybody could say what they wanted about a dead woman, with no chance of being contradicted. ‘Did
you
hear your mistress say she’d make him her heir?’
She frowned. ‘Well, I didn’t hear her myself, but then, she wouldn’t talk about such things to me, would she? I suppose Mary must have heard her say it or she wouldn’t be so angry now. Mary and Cyril have gone to work for Mr Chapman
as well. He lives the other side of the village in his uncle’s house. Bit tumbledown it is for a gentleman, even if it is big. Mary and Cook won’t like that. They’re snickety-pickety about keeping things just so.’
He hid a smile at her turn of phrase. If she had many
made-up
words like that, he was going to enjoy chatting to her. ‘The lawyer didn’t say anything about Miss Bennerden having other relatives. I must ask him when he comes tomorrow afternoon.’
Gil drained his cup and suddenly felt too exhausted to do more. ‘I know it’s early, but it’s been a very long day. I think I should go to bed. Can you show us to the bedrooms, Lizzie?’
She bounced to her feet, young, graceful and full of energy. He couldn’t help feeling envious, but then he glanced round and it reminded him how lucky he was.
No more feeling sorry for yourself, Gil, my lad!
‘They didn’t get anything ready for you, sir, but I can easy make up beds if you decide which rooms you want.’
Walter went over to the back door. ‘It’s getting dark now. Let me just lock up before we go upstairs. Better to be safe than sorry. You’ll have to show me where all the doors are, Lizzie.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘Oh, I don’t think anyone from our village would come and steal anything, Mr Bilham. We don’t usually bother to lock up at all.’
‘I’m afraid us townies feel better if doors are locked at night, so you and I will go round all the outside doors before we go upstairs to sort out bedrooms for Mr Rycroft and myself.’ He looked across at Gil. ‘Wait for me here, lad, while I make everything safe. Your leg must be aching.’
‘Thank you. It is.’
Gil smiled as he heard Walter insisting on shooting the
bolts on all the outside doors as well as turning the keys in the locks. He even went round checking the windows in every downstairs room, finding several of the old-fashioned sash windows that weren’t locked.
It was annoying to be so feeble that an older man had more energy. It was about time Gil started doing more, even if it did make his leg ache. He’d have to go back to London to see the man recommended by Seaborne, so that he knew which exercises would help him most. And he’d see the bootmaker, too. However bad the built-up shoe looked, if it made him limp less, perhaps his hip wouldn’t hurt so much.
When Walter and Lizzie came back, she found them all candlesticks, since the house didn’t have gas lighting, then led the way upstairs.
‘Are there no oil lamps?’ Gil asked.
‘Yes, sir, but Cyril usually sees to those and he didn’t clean and fill them this morning. He was too busy packing up. I could get the fancy lamps from the sitting room, only they’re hard to carry round.’
‘We’ll make do with candles tonight, then.’
The bedrooms looked as comfortable as the downstairs rooms, filled with old-fashioned furniture but of good quality. The one where Alice Bennerden had slept pleased Gil and he opted to use it. Lizzie bustled around, finding clean sheets and making up the beds. Then she hesitated. ‘I’ll just take her clothes out of the drawers and lay them on one of the other beds, shall I? It won’t take me long.’
‘We’ll help you,’ Gil said.
When that was done, Walter said he’d sleep next door, if Gil didn’t mind the liberty. ‘Just to be within call if you need me.’
‘I shan’t need you, but you deserve a comfortable room
after all you’ve done for me. I don’t consider it a liberty but a right. Thank you, Walter.’