by Ann Cliff
‘Not very often, but thank you, I will tonight.’
TWELVE
Rachel stood beside her mother, waiting to hear what had been stolen from the Hall, but Lady Agnes was not prepared to tell them yet. Was she enjoying the moment, seeing them all squirm?
In the dining room the frigid silence was broken by Donald, the coachman and groom.
‘Please, my Lady,’ he said, ‘I did notice summat queer, other morning. One of the horses was in a lather, as if it had been ridden all night. Thursday morn, it was.’
‘Did anyone hear anything?’ the lady wanted to know, looking at Kit. ‘The farmhouse is just across from the stables … you must have heard it, if a horse went out.’
The farmhouse bedrooms were at the other side of the house, looking over the garden, not the yard, so the Garnetts were unlikely to hear anything.
Kit had not been told about the horse and he said nothing. If a stranger had come into the yard, all the dogs would have barked. That left the people living at the Hall.
After a few minutes, the outdoor staff were told to leave the room, with the exception of Kit. They were threatened with dismissal if they withheld any information.
‘We will get to the bottom of this, however long it takes,’ Lady Agnes boomed. ‘My husband will hear of it, as soon as he returns.’
Then the lady turned to the indoor servants. ‘Whoever stole these goods knew where to find the keys. How many of you know where the house keys are kept?’ She sounded as though she had never needed to know such things before.
Everyone except Janet the kitchen maid knew where they were, in a drawer in the housekeeper’s room. Ruth spoke up. ‘I keep the drawer locked, my Lady. And the library keys are in a secret drawer, they open the book cupboards.’
Kit was wondering whether wine had been stolen from the cellar, when Lady Agnes fixed Rachel with her glittering eyes. ‘You mentioned books, Mrs Garnett, though I did not.’
Another silence.
Lady Agnes pounced. ‘And you, Rachel Garnett, dust the volumes in the library. So you know where the library keys are kept. Who persuaded you to give them up?’
Rachel started with shock. So it was books. ‘No one, my Lady. I’ve not been into the library for several days, a week or more.’
It wouldn’t help to say that she had tried to keep out of any part of the house where she might encounter Guy. The memory of her ordeal a few hours ago was still affecting her nerves.
‘What volumes are missing, ma’am?’ Kit asked. ‘I suppose they would be sold, so I could ask the booksellers to look out for them.’
‘Ask your daughter, Garnett. Do you know what I am talking about, Rachel? I am sure you do.’ The woman was almost spitting with rage.
‘No, my Lady, I know nothing about missing books. Please can you tell us what has gone?’ Rachel shivered with cold and apprehension. It would be impossible to prove her innocence.
For once, Lady Agnes seemed uncertain. ‘It is difficult to say … but I suppose the valuable manuscripts and older books. The shelf where the oldest books were kept has been filled with new novels. Someone who knew what was there has removed many of the valuable ones … probably including the original plans used when the house was built. Sixteenth century manuscripts and books, any university or collector would be very happy to buy them.’
‘Do you have a list of the books in the Hall library?’ Kit persisted.
‘No, I do not.’ She was angry again.
So it would be difficult to recover the books, if not impossible. They should have had a list, to check against what was there, but it was hardly a farm manager’s job.
Every year, Kit went through all the farm equipment and tools, checking it off against a list and noting what was missing or broken. He was accountable to the Major for it all. As the housekeeper, Ruth did an annual check of linen, cutlery, crockery, glassware and stores.
No one, it seemed, was accountable for the library.
Lady Agnes tried once more to get one of the servants to admit to something, without success. She ordered them to go about their business, but warned Rachel that Constable Bradley would be coming to interview her.
‘Meanwhile, do not leave the grounds,’ she said coldly.
‘Who would steal books?’ Rachel wondered as they made their way back to the farmhouse to give Kit a belated meal. ‘It’s not an obvious thing to do, like stealing cash.’
‘Someone who wanted cash, but couldn’t get hold of jewellery,’ Ruth suggested. ‘I believe some collectors will pay well for very old books. Years ago when you were small, Rachel, the Major sold some books for a good price. I knew about it because we had to take them down to Ripon and put them on the train to go to London.’
‘It is obvious really when I think about it, but they won’t believe me. I think Guy will have taken them.’ Rachel looked at Kit, who nodded. ‘He heard Mr Bromley say they were valuable, the day when Roger brought him to see the Hall. Guy asked how much they were worth, but Bromley couldn’t tell him.’
‘He’s already tried to sell guns. He is capable of trying anything, but will his parents believe it? They would rather blame Rachel, because she knows where to find the keys.’ Kit sat with his head in his hands. ‘I really don’t know what to do next. Guy is making this place a nightmare to live in.’
‘He jumped on me today, while I was making cheese,’ Rachel told them quietly. ‘Good old Ben saved me, he attacked Guy and bit him. I still feel the shock of it. We’d better keep Ben out of Guy’s way. He’d probably like to kill him. Father, we could be in trouble about that bite. I heard him telling Cook that I had … enticed him.’
Ruth went pale. ‘We’ll have to find Rachel work somewhere else. This can’t go on, Kit.’ She put an arm round her daughter, a rare gesture. ‘You poor lass!’
After a sleepless night, Rachel was quite glad to see Jim come to visit on Sunday afternoon and to tell him of their troubles. But Jim seemed strangely quiet. He had no comfort and no suggestions to offer of what might be done.
‘That’s a shame, lass,’ was all he said, before changing the subject.
Rachel explained that she was not able to go for a walk, being confined to the grounds. Jim was not put out.
‘That’s just as well, I’m tired. We’ve been threshing,’ he said.
He told Kit that he would have to go back to the school the next Saturday, to cut the fallen tree into firewood. Then he went home early, with a casual wave of the hand.
Roger had come in late on Saturday night and gone to Pateley on Sunday, starting out early. He knew nothing about the theft. When he arrived on Sunday evening, he found the Garnetts very subdued. They made an effort to talk to him and gave him some supper, but the usual happy atmosphere was missing. Had they guessed how he felt about Rachel? Perhaps Kit would ask him to leave… .
Eventually, Roger decided that he had nothing to lose. ‘Would you like to tell me what’s wrong, Kit? You’re all much more quiet than usual.’ He stood up and poured himself a cup of tea.
Rachel couldn’t trust herself to speak, but Kit told him what had happened. They had never seen Roger angry, but now he was furious. ‘Guy Potts should be hanged! And he attacked you, Rachel? I will go up there and punch him right away!’
‘Please, Roger,’ Rachel pleaded. ‘Don’t make things worse. Nobody can touch him, he’s Family.’ Her sad face made him want to weep.
He strode over to where Rachel was sitting at the other side of the table and put both arms round her in a comforting hug. ‘My poor girl!’ He felt her relax against him for a moment, then it was over and he went back to his chair. ‘I’m sorry, Rachel, but I can’t bear to think of it… .’
Rachel smiled across at him, a tremulous smile that let him know he was forgiven.
‘It’s a comfort to see you angry with him, lad.’
Roger was still simmering. ‘Rachel blamed for the theft and Guy telling people that she … it’s dreadful.’ He looked at Kit. ‘Just let me know i
f he does anything to upset you again and I will thrash him. I’m not working for the Potts, thank goodness. He can’t dismiss me.’
‘I’ve never seen you so upset, Roger,’ Ruth said.
‘What’s Jim going to do about it? He’ll want to kill Guy Potts, when he hears!’
Nobody answered him. What did that mean?
PC Bradley rolled up on his bicycle on Monday morning as Rachel, with heavy eyes and an aching head, was preparing to make butter. He at least could offer some reassurance.
‘I’m off to see Lady Agnes and then Mr Guy,’ he told Rachel. ‘Then I’m supposed to interview you, but I’m sure you didn’t do it.’ His cheerful grin made her smile for the first time since Saturday. ‘We haven’t forgot about those guns, down at the station. We don’t need Sherlock Holmes to work out what happened.’
Lady Agnes, the policeman was told, was ‘not at home’. That probably meant that she considered it too early in the morning to receive visitors. PC Bradley was shown into the library, the scene of the crime, as he said to himself. There were no evident clues, no damage to the book cases.
The Major sat at the big desk, writing letters. The desk was strewn with papers, pens and ink. Facing the Major was better any time than undergoing examination by Lady Agnes.
‘Good morning, sir, PC Bradley. To see about yon books.’
‘Constable, what do you make of this theft?’ the Major asked him as the policeman stood before the desk like an overgrown pupil before the head-teacher.
‘My wife believes that the Garnett girl sold the books for money. Garnett denies it, and I must say that as far as we know, she is of good character. However,’ he looked sternly at the constable, ‘as you will be aware, we have been away for four years, leaving the Garnetts to look after the estate. I am disappointed to find that our confidence may have been misplaced. If this thing is proved, the whole family must go.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Bradley was still trying to work out how to approach this tricky situation when Guy Potts burst into the room.
‘I say, Pa…’ he stopped when he saw PC Bradley, massively immobile by the desk. ‘What’s all this?’ He looked furtively round the library.
‘If I may take the liberty, Major, I would like to ask Mr Potts here what he knows about the books,’ said Bradley, trying to sound very firm.
‘Me? Don’t be stupid, man. That Garnett girl took them, I saw her walking down the stairs with a large bag the day before.’ Guy had flushed an ugly colour.
PC Bradley took out his note book and licked his pencil. ‘Would you mind telling me, sir, what time of day that was? How big was the bag and where did she go?’
‘She went to the wash house,’ Guy blustered. ‘Probably hid them, to sell later on.’
‘Are you sure, Guy?’ the Major asked.
‘With respect, Major, I expect that Miss Garnett was taking a bag of linen to the wash house, it’s what housekeepers and maids do … we can ask when the sheets were changed,’ Bradley suggested, thinking on his feet. ‘I reckon you know something about the books, Mr Potts.’
‘Now if you think you can accuse me…’ Guy began, walking up to the policeman and glaring at him.
This was a time for very fast thinking, but the policeman had worked out a face-saving strategy before he came up to the Hall, just in case it was needed.
PC Bradley said calmly, ‘Not at all, Mr Potts. I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, like before. You remember? You as the heir feel entitled to use property at the Hall, it’ll all be yours one day. You said as much, last time. Well, if you decide to take some of the property, such as guns, or these here books, it would help us all if you would mention the fact to the Major. I’m sure he would rather you did that, than have to call in the police. Now, Mr Guy, have I got it right?’ He held his breath and glared back at Guy with all the weight of the law.
The Major jumped to his feet and for a moment, Bradley thought he was going to be thrown out. Then he looked at his son. ‘Is this true? Did you take the books?’
There was a silence. Bradley looked steadily at Guy and chanced a guess. ‘I’m sure the bookseller will know, when we go to see him,’ he said casually. ‘But it would save a lot of trouble, Mr Potts, if you …’
‘All right,’ Guy said sulkily. ‘I sold a few mouldy books because nobody reads them, nobody. I needed the money. I’d sell the whole lot if it was up to me, smelly old things they are.’
The youth sounded childish and Bradley wondered whether he was quite normal. There was something missing, some human decency.
‘It was not fair to throw the blame onto a servant, Mr Potts.’
‘Thank you, Constable, that will be all,’ the Major said, dismissing him.
As he left as quietly as possible, Bradley heard the Major shouting. ‘You have let us down! How could you behave so badly? It’s the army for you, boy, and as soon as possible! Blaming a servant was despicable.’
It would have been good to mention Guy’s loutish behaviour at the Fox and Hounds as another example of his little ways, but that could be used in future, if necessary. He felt rather sorry for the Major, oddly enough, with a son like that on his hands. The army was a splendid idea, as the Major himself said.
In the dairy, Rachel was working the butter with her wooden paddles when PC Bradley looked in.
‘I’ll see your father in a minute,’ he told her. ‘You’ll be glad to know that Guy admitted it.’
Rachel looked at him with shining eyes. ‘Thank you, Mr Bradley! How did you do it?’
The constable smirked. ‘We police have our ways of dealing with criminals.’
In fact, as he well knew, it was a matter of luck. ‘You cannot trust that lad, as I suppose you know, Rachel. Keep well clear of him.’
Lady Agnes was, if possible, even more furious than before when the Major told her what had happened that morning.
‘Guy has caused us to lose face again before the servants,’ she fumed. ‘And now that fat policeman has been here, the whole village will hear about it. I can’t forgive him.’
‘I think you have spoiled Guy, that’s the problem,’ her husband said. ‘No discipline. He never seems to consider anyone else’s point of view.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Charles. Neither of us brought him up. Guy was in boarding schools for the whole of his childhood and if they couldn’t teach him good behaviour, nobody can.’ She nodded. ‘The army’s the thing, you are right about that … now, have you written to the regiment?’
The Major sighed. ‘Yes, I have. After the pheasant shoot, Sutton advised me to send Guy into the army. He seemed quite concerned about something, but someone else came up to us and he said no more. I should have asked him what had happened, but when I visited the Chase, it slipped my mind.’
‘What have you said to Guy? He drank too much on the day of the shoot, I noticed. That in itself was unacceptable, when we were entertaining guests. Did you ask him about going into the army, Charles?’
‘I haven’t given him a choice of regiment. Guy is not in the least interested in the army, but that doesn’t matter. He needs discipline and I hope he doesn’t get in with a set of gamblers… . I will make it clear that he gets no more help from me.’ He looked at his wife. ‘This is all very sad for both of us.’
‘Can we afford a commission for him, given the state of our finances?’ Lady Agnes twisted her rings. She did not want to sell her jewellery.
‘We will sell one of the farms in the village, Elm Tree probably, to pay for it. Elm Tree won’t be missed and I think the tenant will buy it, so there should be no fuss. I will send Garnett to see him.’
‘I suppose we will have to apologize to Garnett?’
‘Nonsense, Agnes. Say nothing and it will all be forgotten. The servants will be relieved that they are to keep their places, that’s enough.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘Try not to worry about Guy; one day, he will grow up, I hope. The best thing we can do now is to plan the management of the farm for the future.
It seems possible now that there will be no reservoir built here and if so, I am determined to live here for the rest of my life. We must make enough profit to live on, that’s all.’
‘I’ve had Rachel make a batch of cheese, but it will be weeks before we can try it,’ his wife told him. ‘Improving the farm seems to be a very slow job to me. Now, if I work on the dairy produce and the geese by organizing Rachel, what do you intend to do?’
‘Ah,’ said Major Potts. ‘Next spring will be the time to begin your projects, Agnes. Forget the Dexter-Kerry cows. They are, after all, nothing but rich men’s playthings – a fad of women like Sybil. We will get Garnett to buy some more Shorthorns and Rachel can milk them. Sutton tells me that local cattle will milk better, and that Wensleydale cheese sells well. The girl can make cheese.’
He paused while Agnes digested this information and then went on, ‘I intend to develop a managed pheasant shoot. I’ve been talking to Sutton about that, too. Those few days at Cranby Chase have opened my eyes to many possibilities.’
‘How can pheasants make money for us?’ Lady Agnes wanted to know.
‘Syndicates of men, professionals from the city most often, are willing to pay to have the exclusive right to shoot over estates such as ours. We will rear pheasants under hens next spring, and release them in the woods. Eventually we’ll employ a gamekeeper, to kill the vermin and guard the birds from poachers. Garnett can rear the birds for the first few years and keep away poachers, assisted by Daniel Wood.’ He sat back in his chair, pleased with his plans.
‘And the old Hall? That was on your list, I believe.’
‘Next summer we will advertise discreetly that the Hall is open to visitors. The Garnetts can organize a tea room, in the way that other historic houses do, to offer afternoon tea to visitors. Mrs Garnett can bake the cakes and the girl can wait on the tables.’
‘The geese … I believe that Rachel could keep many more geese, Charles. They live mostly on grass and there is a demand for them, especially at Michaelmas and Christmas.’
The Potts considered their plans for some time. As they went down to lunch, Lady Agnes was struck by a thought. ‘Charles, do you think we will be expecting too much from the Garnetts? All this extra work, and they seem to be quite busy already.’