Parthena's Promise

  “Preparing the Hall for what?” she asked.

  “We have been told that at the end of the month it is to go up on the market for sale, miss.”

  Thena stared at her, not knowing quite what to say. Her home was to be sold, without warning or without her knowledge. She stared at the servant who had served her father well for years and felt sad for her also.

  “What is to become of you and the staff?” Thena asked. This question would never have crossed her mind before her recent excursion. She also had found Jerome and he could show and teach her so much more, if only he was willing.

  “We have been told that we are to hope the next owner keeps us on, and if not, he says we can always look for work in the village. But there is no work in the village and no one wants to leave to go to them mills, miss. So we all hope that we will be taken on. Perhaps you could speak to Mr Munro on our behalf and ask if we could be like part of the arrangements?” she asked tentatively.

  Thena recognised the tinge of desperation in the woman’s voice and understood it. “I will speak to him about his plans when he has returned from his business. We’ll see. Now, please make my room ready. Warm it through and have my trunk brought back down to it. I have no notion why it should have been placed in the attic. I would have my clothes back where they belong. Be assured, Mrs Hubbart, of course I will speak to my cousin. Let me know as soon as he returns. I would like to surprise him.” She forced a smile.

  “Thank you, Miss Munro… Miss, are you feeling well?”

  “Why ever do you ask?” Thena looked at the puzzled expression upon the maid’s face.

  “Sorry, miss, you just seem… different in some way.”

  Thena was shaking herself out of her thoughts as the woman smiled and quickly added, “Well everything changes in time and everything is.” She shrugged her shoulders and Thena watched her run up the stairs as quickly as her feet would allow her to.

  Breathing out slowly, Thena walked into the library remembering times spent with her father fondly, and then looked to the adjacent door of his study. If Bertram was not to return till noon there was an hour clear. She entered through the large doorway and stared at the polished walnut desk. It had papers scattered all over it. Her father would turn in his grave at the mess. He had always left everything orderly – always.

  She glanced out of the window to see if there was any sign of Bertram returning, but there was not. Curiously, rather than guiltily, she opened a large folder that was on his desk and read the documents that were to hand, glancing quickly over accounts, bills and tenancies.

  Looking at the plans that had been drawn, she began to understand the gravity of the scheme Bertram was set on. It seemed he was planning on selling off everything. There was a drawing of the river with the buildings redrawn. It was then that she realised that these new buildings were of a mill and crammed in accommodation for workers. He planned on destroying the Hall, the farms, and consequently the whole village would change.

  Another drawing outlined the row of slightly grander terraced housing that would face the village square. They would not fit in with the natural scheme of things at all. It was a lot to take in. If Bertram had his way, this village that had survived the plague and gone on to prosper for centuries was about to become another mill town. There would be nothing peaceful left about it and the house staff would find work, but it would be in a noisy, dusty factory. She must tell Jerome and stop this. How, she did not know, but what of the legacy that went with the land? Perhaps it would have some clause within it that could be used. She put the papers and drawings back as she found them.

  She knew that she needed to leave, and in desperation she looked through the desk drawers, but found no more information concerning the will, or the estate; but now she knew at least why he wanted free rein to do as he pleased. Bertram had plans, big plans, but she had a weapon that he knew nothing about and that was Mr Jerome Fender. With that surprisingly pleasant thought she quickly made her way up to her old room. It was very much as she had left it. Hubbart had lit the fire. She could almost believe that time had gone back and her home was hers once more, but time never did that. Her father had said it to her many a time, that time can be a good friend or a heavy enemy, it depended how you used it. They had stood before the grandfather clock in the hallway. It hadn’t worked for years, but he had told her he used time well for it was his friend. She loved his fanciful side, but like the clock his had stopped too soon.

  Thena prepared herself to welcome her cousin. He was about to learn that it was not so easy to rid himself of her. Then she had another thought. If her father had left a will and her cousin had hidden, or destroyed it, then perhaps it stood in the way of what he had planned for the estate. In which case, they had a lot to prove, in very little time.

  *

  Jerome arrived in the village of Leaham, after following the chaise to the estate, knowing that Thena should have arrived safely at Leaham Hall. He first walked toward the picturesque village square where in the centre there was a small water fountain. He allowed his horse to drink and lifted his small bag off the saddle and surveyed the buildings around him as he casually sought out legal offices, an inn, a small hotel and coffee house, milliner’s, saddler’s and blacksmith’s. The small apothecary and dispensary was next to a grocers’ shop.

  Jerome looked to the offices of Messrs. Blackmore, Hide and Stanton, the legal representatives that were next to Farthings and Crutch undertakers, and wondered at the name Stanton. It could be common enough, yet he wondered if it was in legal circles, for he had studied with a Geoffrey Stanton and taken exams at the same time as him… fate, he mused, could be a wonderful thing if it was working in your favour.

  He was about to enter the inn when a coach drew up in front of it. The man who alighted made straight for the coffee house. So, letting his intuition guide him, Jerome did likewise. It was then he saw a familiar face seated at a table with a rotund looking man. Both had greeted the gentleman from the coach and had not seen him enter behind him. Fascinated, Jerome slipped into a bay, determined to make himself comfortable in a settle behind where the group had gathered around a table.

  “Charles, good man, glad you could make it. Please sit down, sir. You know Stanton here. How was your journey?” The man’s voice almost fawned; Jerome’s gut instinct was to dislike him.

  “Not too bad, Bertram. So tell me, who is this person?” The newly arrived gentleman’s confident drawl was patronising, and Jerome disliked him straight away. He smiled as he was indeed suited to be a judge, but in his time watching people in court on both sides of the bench he had gained an insight into a person’s character by listening to what they said or did not say.

  Drinks were ordered and Jerome could not hear much more of their initial small talk as he too was served by a friendly young woman.

  “No,” Bertram’s voice rose, then as if remembering where he was, he lowered it and continued, “I tell you, she took herself off to North Yorkshire on the whim of becoming a governess. She ranted about making use of her education – I tell you, I have never heard such nonsense coming out of the mouth of a young lady. I tell you, she has been indulged as a child, for no other reason should a girl become such a wilful creature. It is not a quality that endears the person. I have not heard a word from her since. It is a bad business, Stanton,” Cousin Bertram was explaining.

  “So, where does this leave things, Bertram? Whatever the rash act of this girl is, it is of no consequence to our agreement, is it?” Charles asked.

  “Well, as I understand it, the legacy only attaches itself to the direct line. It blocks an heir from selling the estate on if it is passed down the direct bloodline, that is. So, if there is no son, and no son-in-law to inherit, then the land and all that is on and under it goes in entirety to the next of kin, however distant they may be.” Bertram cleared his throat. “Is that not correct, Stanton?”

  “Yes, it seems so,” Geoffrey Stanton replied. “It is, I am sure, not what was
meant, but the devil is in the wording and therefore it is what the words written actually mean. However, this lady appears to have acted in haste. She is naïve and I am sure cannot have travelled far.”

  Geoffrey Stanton was being very considerate of Thena, Jerome realised, and perhaps he did not believe all that Bertram was saying. Jerome hoped so, for he could be an ally that Thena needed to extricate something from her situation.

  “I agree. If she had stayed and not acted so brazenly, right now I could be finding her a suitor, but now the headstrong, foolish girl has run away and I cannot trace where. A suitor is impossible unless I found a farm hand who would have such a tarnished reputation as hers. Still, that will never happen as an estate needs a gentleman to run it effectively, not a simple-minded girl or a labourer,” he scoffed. “The address she gave me was false and no one seems to have any knowledge of where she is now. Who, of any breeding, would even look twice at her now,” he sighed.

  Geoffrey spoke, and it was the words he heard that convinced Jerome that it was definitely his fellow student. “I am most bemused that she has been so bold. However, until we can locate Miss Munro, should we not delay the sale of the estate, lest there be any challenge made? After all, is it not possible she may have eloped, in which case she could challenge everything?”

  “What! Preposterous! There is no suitor and, besides, her father never bothered her with the detail of the will. Why would he? So what challenge could she make? It is highly unlikely that she will announce an engagement under the circumstances. No, I am afraid Miss Parthena Munro has thrown her last tantrum. The paperwork is explicit and Charles has other options to consider. We must move forward with this. Likewise, I have wasted enough time here. I need to return to Kent. Mother will be most anxious that things have been sorted out, and quickly.”

  “Indeed,” Charles added. “The girl is irrelevant. Bertram has inherited the estate and we have an agreement. Now I expect the paperwork to be finalised by the end of this month. If it is too big a job for you, Stanton, then I will consult my London lawyers...” he allowed his voice to trail off.

  “I think our business is done here. I will see to the paperwork and will be in touch,” Geoffrey Stanton pushed back his chair, scraping it on the floor. “Mr Munro, Mr Tripp, I bid you good day. I too have much to do.” He stood up.

  Jerome watched Geoffrey leave, and smiled. Good, they had upset him. He would not like the jibe about him being inferior to the London lawyers. He had fought prejudice all through his studies as his father had made his money through trade. This meant that they may have lost the loyalty of the man. If Jerome went to him now, with care, it could well play into his hand. Bertram had obviously not seen Thena yet, but he was busy painting a very different image of her than Jerome knew to be true. He turned his glass around on the table. What they did next had to be carefully thought out. Bertram was lying. He was hiding the truth from Thena, but he had carefully left a position where there was only her word against his. Had she left without his blessing? The letter she had of introduction to the family, the one he had read as she bathed, said that she was sent by Bertram but it was the only proof she had that he arranged it. Yet, Jerome now realised that in hindsight he could challenge this as the signature upon it comprised only of two letters – it could be said to be a forgery.

  Jerome was about to stand up and follow Stanton when he heard Bertram’s voice rise again. “It concerns me that my man could not confirm what had happened to her. I expected a report that would give us surety that the girl could be no more trouble to us. Despite her having no other means to survive that are, shall we say, reputable, she managed to completely disappear, Charles. I tell you, this has been an ill thought-out affair. We should have been bolder,” he said.

  “Bertram, good fortune has smiled on you here; do not cast a shadow over it by tainting it with the blood of an innocent. I will not be party to that.”

  “But you said to send her away and be done with her,” Bertram snapped out.

  “I may have made an offhand comment. You could have sent her to a convent, had her sent overseas to have her education finished, anything. How you chose to interpret my words is down to you, but you have interpreted them badly and the consequences of them will be yours if she emerges as an embarrassment to either of us.” Charles sighed as Bertram protested.

  “But…”

  “Listen, man, she will have found a way to survive as we all must. You focus on moving the sale through. I will give you another month and then I expect to be able to bring in my men and start work on this backwater to make it pay handsomely.” Charles sounded definite as if he was drawing the conversation to a close. Jerome heard his chair move back also.

  “Yes... Yes… Of course! I was just thinking aloud. Everything will be ready. Do you wish to stay at the Hall tonight?” Bertram asked.

  “No, I have other business partners to see. I will meet you back here in four weeks to the hour and the day. Have everything ready for me, or I will buy land elsewhere. Progress stops for no man, Bertram!” His words were abruptly snapped out.

  “Of course, I fully understand,” Bertram grovelled as the man returned to his coach.

  Jerome watched as the vehicle drew away and Munro cursed his so-called business partner. He then headed off in the direction of Leaham Hall, and Jerome could almost wish to be there to see his face when he returned to it. However, he had to re-acquaint himself quickly with an old colleague. Glad that he had never taunted the man about his family’s new money, Jerome stood and walked purposefully over to the offices of Messrs. Blackmore, Hide and Stanton.

  They had some catching up to do, rather quickly, and also the possibility of helping each other at the same time. Fate, Jerome again pondered, was indeed a lovely thing. He knocked on the highly polished black door and waited to be announced. One word told him that things were definitely on an upward turn when Mr Geoffrey Stanton stood up as he entered the man’s immaculate office and greeted him with a kindly word, “Welcome!”

  Chapter 9

  “I am so pleased that you remember me, sir. If you recall, we were in the Inns at the same time…”

  Mr Geoffrey Stanton shook Jerome’s hand as if he was genuinely pleased to see him. He took Jerome’s hat and placed it carefully on a stand as the door to the office was closed. “I never forget the face of a friend, or in your case, sir, a friendly face. You were always a gentleman, Mr Fender – Jerome wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Jerome replied, slightly embarrassed that he had obviously made a stronger impression on Mr Stanton than Stanton had on him.

  “I know I am right, sir. I pride myself on my memory of faces and names.” He smiled.

  Jerome nodded. “An excellent memory, sir, and one that will serve you in good stead in our profession.”

  “Oh, well, I’ll be honest with you. I have every reason to remember you, since you stopped Giles Baglan from giving me a kicking. I admired you from that moment onwards and I have followed your career with interest. Now that the war is over, we can pursue our chosen paths once more. I served in the 95th, sir. Only a lieutenant, but I did my part.” He held his head high as if he had proved himself able to fight and defend not only himself but his country.

  Jerome was momentarily speechless as he had forgotten that he did give Baglan a kicking himself for picking on the new boy. However, Jerome could well understand the impact his intervention had had on the younger Geoffrey’s life. Jerome smiled even more broadly – “one good deed” was the phrase that came to mind. They exchanged rank and anecdotes for a few moments with enthusiasm, and then there was a slight pause in the conversation.

  “So tell me, what brings a London barrister all the way to this backwater?” Stanton took his seat again after offering Jerome a glass of sherry from his cabinet.

  “Justice, Geoffrey, or lack of it, is why I am here. I am for reform, so that the punishment is more fitting to the crime. Also, those crimes can and should be prevented whenever possible. But fi
rst tell me, are you unhappy here?” Jerome saw the pensive look on his colleague’s face turn to curiosity when Jerome tried to wrong-foot him with his last question.

  “I too am for reform, but these things take time, especially where laws are concerned, as well you know. No, I am not happy at this precise moment. If I am to be honest, I have not been for some months. I have a wife who expects our first child this coming summer and we have been very happy in this beautiful village until relatively recently. She is a teacher and we have such plans for it.” He then looked down at the papers upon his desk with little enthusiasm.

  “Then what has changed?” Jerome asked.

  “Nothing as yet, but I fear it will soon enough. A major property on the edge of town is to be sold, an estate that holds the deeds for farms and town properties alike, and this lovely village, I feel, will not be valued by its new owner. But, you catch me at a sensitive time and I really should not be discussing such business with you as it breaks every rule of confidentiality that we value and uphold. However,” he looked up at Jerome and smiled brightly, before adding, “as you were listening so tentatively to my conversation in the coffee house, I presume that you have some interest in the affair.” He raised one eyebrow.

  “Ah, Geoffrey, you were always observant. I am glad to see that your mind is as razor sharp as always and that you miss nothing. You will clearly have seen me when you returned here and glanced back. Your assumption is quite correct. The young lady that you were discussing, Miss Munro, did not run away, nor is she reckless, or damaged in reputation in any way. She is safely returned to the home that has been hers to live in since her birth. However, I fear that she has been kept away from the truth of her father’s will and the details of her inheritance. In so doing, her cousin seeks to rid himself of her and take the land. Why this man, Charles Tripp, is so interested in it, I do not know.”