Little Girl Lost

by Val Wood

  Rosamund was sitting by the fire and Margriet opposite her. On the sofa sat the visitor: the lawyer Hugh Webster. He didn’t rise when Ramsey barged in, but gave a smug smile. ‘I rather thought you’d be here before the day was out, Ramsey, but I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. I explained everything thoroughly this morning.’

  Margriet watched from her chair. Events had moved swiftly since Ramsey’s last visit. She had gone with her mother to see the lawyer as Mr Blackstone had advised, and Hugh Webster was more than willing to discuss their situation. It had transpired that since then Ramsey had consulted his own York lawyer, who had asked him to obtain a copy of his wife’s deceased husband’s will before he put the wheels in motion for the sale of the house. Ramsey came to Hull but not to see his wife; he had made an appointment to consult Webster. When Webster was advised by his clerk of the pending appointment and the reason for it, he came immediately to visit Rosamund and brought a locksmith with him to change the lock on the door.

  ‘Forgive me, dear lady, but I can’t stay now,’ he’d told her. ‘I am in a great rush as I have much reading matter to peruse, but trust me when I say that all is not lost. The money in the bank has gone, it is true, and you won’t get that back, but do allow me to have your lock changed to protect the contents of your house. Mr Ramsey will most certainly come to see you after he has heard what I have to say.’

  Rosamund was very confused; Webster seemed to be very buoyed up by the whole situation, but she allowed the lock to be changed as he suggested, and told him that she wasn’t so much worried about the house contents as about the house itself. ‘Mr Ramsey wants to sell it!’ she exclaimed.

  The lawyer had nodded sagely. ‘So my clerk informed me when Ramsey made the appointment. We have heard many rumours about Mr Ramsey, sad to say. My clerk, who is the soul of discretion, always has his ear to the ground – not that you would know it, for he has the look of a very mild and unassuming kind of man. I will call on you as soon as I’ve spoken to Ramsey. If he arrives before I do, then stay calm and act as if you know nothing. It would be a good idea to have your daughter with you.’

  As Rosamund didn’t know anything, the second part of his instruction would not be difficult to follow, but keeping calm was a different matter altogether. Fortunately, Mr Webster reached the house a few minutes before William’s tempestuous entry, and although her colour fluctuated she was able to maintain her composure.

  ‘I’m going to fight this in the courts.’ Ramsey pointed a stabbing finger at Webster and then at Rosamund. ‘Don’t think you can get away with it. In common law everything a woman brings to a marriage belongs to her husband.’

  Rosamund clutched her hands together. ‘Yes,’ she murmured nervously. ‘So I believe.’

  Webster stretched out his legs. ‘Have you come to bully your wife?’ he asked mildly.

  ‘No!’ Ramsey retaliated. ‘I only want what’s legally mine. I won’t leave her without a roof over her head.’

  ‘Indeed you won’t.’ Webster sat up. ‘You are obliged to ensure that she doesn’t have to rely on the workhouse for accommodation.’ Rosamund shuddered, but he went on, ‘But as I have already explained to you, you can’t have this one. This property belongs to her daughter, Miss Margriet Vandergroene, willed to her by her father, Frederik Vandergroene. The only money that Mrs Vandergroene has left from your spending spree is the dowry her father gave on the occasion of her first marriage, and is untouchable by anyone but her.’

  Ramsey glowered at him. ‘There’ll be a way round it. I’ll speak to my lawyer.’

  ‘Jameson, isn’t it?’ Webster said. ‘I have received a letter from him asking to see the original will, but he has no just cause to examine it. It is no concern of his, or yours either for that matter, but speak to him by all means. I remember him,’ he murmured idly, as if recalling an incident. ‘Did you not use him once before over a certain racing scandal? Did you escape prison that time?’ He left the question hanging. ‘I forget the details. He might take you on if he thinks you can afford his fees on a case he can’t win.’

  William Ramsey spun round, uttering an oath that made Rosamund blush and Margriet open her mouth in astonishment, and left, slamming the doors behind him.

  Webster stood up. ‘May I ring the bell for coffee, Mrs Vandergroene? I feel we may need some refreshment whilst I explain the ins and outs.’

  ‘Oh! Forgive me.’ Rosamund was flustered. ‘Margriet, can you—’

  Margriet was already on her feet and reaching for the bell on the wall. She went out to meet Jane in the hall. ‘Ask Mrs Simmonds to serve coffee and Dutch biscuits, if Cook has made any, and to bring the brandy decanter and two glasses, please.’ Then she stood for a moment outside the sitting room door to get her breath, and reach some understanding of what she had heard. ‘Lieveling Papa,’ she whispered. ‘Why did you think of that? How did you guess something like this might happen?’ She felt choked by the knowledge that her father had had the foresight to make sure they were safe after he was gone.

  Mr Webster looked up when she went back into the room. He was standing with his back to the fire and had lifted his coat tails, which made her smile.

  ‘Now, my dear Miss Vandergroene. Do you recall when we first met?’

  Margriet shook her head. ‘No, sir, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, perhaps that’s not surprising, for you were only’ – he waved his hand vaguely on a level with his waist – ‘so big! You were with your papa, and you told me about a king’s palace in Hull. Do you remember now?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, animated. ‘Now I do. Papa had taken me to the Vittoria Hotel near the pier and bought me a dish of ice cream.’

  He nodded. ‘That was when I told your papa about a certain widow left penniless by her second husband, and the perils that can ensue if families are not well advised.’ He turned to Rosamund. ‘Frederik came to see me and we redrew his will in favour of Margriet; not doubting for a moment that she would take care of you if such a situation should arise, as indeed it has.’ He sighed. ‘Of course, we did not expect his death so early in life, but fortunately everything was in place before the tragedy occurred.’

  Mrs Simmonds knocked and came in with the tray. Mr Webster looked on approvingly as Margriet poured coffee for her mother and herself and brandy for him. When she handed him the glass he swirled the liquid round and sniffed it appreciatively before taking a sip. ‘Excellent,’ he purred. ‘Excellent.’

  ‘Frederik had a good supplier,’ Rosamund said. ‘I drink very little myself, but I know that this is of top quality.’ She made a mental note to send a couple of bottles to the lawyer’s office.

  ‘Now,’ he said, sitting down again and turning to Rosamund. ‘Some more good news. The shares that you held in Frederik’s company and which Ramsey sold; he was told that there was a ready buyer who was prepared to buy immediately if the price was right, and since Ramsey needed the cash he sold them at below the market value. That buyer was myself, on Margriet’s behalf, as instructed in Frederik’s will. I have all the paperwork,’ he added.

  ‘So, if Margriet agrees, bearing in mind that as a minor she must be advised by me, you could buy back those shares with money from your dowry which has lain untouched since you first received it on the occasion of your first marriage. You do not have to decide now,’ he said. ‘There is no hurry.’

  ‘But if I did that, could William claim them as he did before?’ Rosamund asked diffidently.

  Webster nodded. ‘He could.’

  ‘In that case, no,’ she said. ‘And yet I must have money, and there will be none from Mr Ramsey.’ Rosamund drank her coffee and then picked up her glass. For almost the first time in her life she was thinking for herself. ‘I can’t divorce him, can I?’

  He shook his head. ‘Sadly, no. But he can divorce you if you give him cause, and if he chooses to and if he can afford to, which I doubt.’

  That wasn’t fair, Margriet thought. Why should women be so – so … She s
ought for the word to describe the position in which women could find themselves. Inferior, she thought, but said out loud, ‘Subordinate! Is that the right word for women, Mr Webster, in relation to men?’

  He gazed at her. ‘I’m afraid it does describe the position in which they can find themselves, certainly.’

  ‘In that case I might never marry,’ she exclaimed. ‘There would always be the worry that my husband could take everything.’

  ‘No,’ Rosamund objected. ‘Not all men are like William Ramsey. Think of your papa, how he considered us constantly, more than I ever knew.’ Tears began to run down her cheeks and she started to sob, with relief that her ordeal might be over and with regret that she had never understood how kind, considerate and understanding Frederik had been. ‘There will be someone worthy of you, Margriet. Someone, somewhere.’

  Margriet put down her cup and sat by her mother with her arm round her shoulder, and was surprised a few moments later when Rosamund, wiping away her tears, said, ‘Margriet, would you mind stepping into the hall for a moment whilst I speak to Mr Webster privately? I want to say something not for your ears.’

  Webster seemed surprised too but didn’t comment, and Margriet left the room. As the door closed firmly behind her, Rosamund took a sobbing breath. ‘Mr Webster, I hope you will forgive me, for I am unused to speaking of my private life, but it seems to me that I have very few options.’ She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and looked down into her lap. ‘I do not wish to spend the rest of my life tied to a man I neither admire nor trust. It might well be that Mr Ramsey will come to the conclusion that he doesn’t want to be with me either, and so I would like to end this marriage.’

  ‘But the scandal,’ Webster said. ‘Does that not bother you?’

  She gave a little laugh. ‘At one time the scandal would have been abhorrent to me, but not any more. It would be a nine-day wonder. However, there are no grounds for him to divorce me, so how can we get round that?’

  He frowned. ‘A divorce would be out of the question. Only the wealthy can contemplate it and it is a very difficult and contentious situation even for them. A separation, perhaps, on the grounds of infidelity, but I can’t see you contemplating anything as sordid as setting up that kind of scene.’ He shook his head. ‘No, dear lady, I do not see how it can be done.’

  ‘Well then, there is only one thing that I can think of, and that is to blackmail him with innuendo and insinuation.’

  ‘I don’t understand. About what?’

  Rosamund hesitated. ‘His manhood,’ she said softly. ‘I rather think that he might be vulnerable on that score.’ She recalled the woman, Marie-Louise, at their wedding breakfast who she suspected he might have known intimately. Her voice dropped even lower. ‘William Ramsey has not once shared my bed, not even on our wedding night.’

  ‘Ah!’ He let out a breath. ‘An annulment, then, for non-consummation of marriage, and a mutually agreed parting. Yes, my brave lady, I think we can run with that. He wouldn’t want it talked about; that would be a scandal indeed. He might turn it on its head, of course, and say that you were the one who denied him.’

  ‘That is a possibility I am prepared to endure,’ she said firmly. ‘I will scupper Mr Ramsey’s boat and see him flounder once and for all.’

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Margriet lay flat on her stomach on the floor of her room, her nose to one map and surrounded by several others. ‘Oh, Papa,’ she breathed. ‘You were right all along. Here they are, just as you said.’ It was as if he were in the room with her, smiling and cajoling and saying, Well, of course I was right. Would I tell my little Daisy an untruth?

  She had persuaded the librarian to let her borrow the maps for one day only; he had become quite friendly since he realized that Margriet was serious about her desire to learn what had gone before, as history was his favourite subject.

  ‘I’m interested in finding out where Henry VIII had his palace,’ Margriet told him. ‘I believe it belonged to a wealthy family before him.’

  The librarian looked over his round-rimmed spectacles at her. ‘Yes, the De la Poles. It was built for them when they lost their home to the sea at Ravenspurn.’ He handed her the maps. ‘You may take these on condition that you bring them back tomorrow without fail. I’ll lend you more then.’

  What she had found now on Robert Thew’s map of 1784 delighted her, for here was her own Parliament Street designated as Mug-House Entry as her father had told her, but even better was the area behind Land of Green Ginger, filled with sketches of bushy trees and hedges.

  ‘The king’s gardens,’ she murmured. ‘And was it here that you grew the ginger, Anneliese? Will I ever know?’ For in her heart she was beginning to suspect that Anneliese was a figment of her imagination, a spectre of her dreams.

  ‘Haven’t I told you already?’ The familiar whisper came in her ear, and she turned her head to see Anneliese sitting in her chair. She smiled at her. ‘Don’t stop believing in me, Margriet,’ she said softly.

  ‘I won’t,’ Margriet breathed. ‘Not ever.’

  She turned back to the maps. ‘Let’s see what you have to show me, Mr Speed,’ she murmured, looking at the name of the mapmaker and the date, 1610, even earlier than the previous one. ‘It’s almost too small to read, and there are no recognizable streets.’ The old walls and gates of Hull, the Citadel, and the towers of two churches were shown, with ships in the Humber and windmills outside the walls; just like Netherlands, she thought. ‘And what’s this?’ She peered closer. ‘Another church? No.’ She ran her finger down the index and took a breath. ‘King’s Place! I’ve found it! But now it’s gone, other buildings have been built over it. There’s nothing now but the place names.’

  Something else was niggling away. It was something to do with what Anneliese had said about her garden and growing shrubs and bulbs and ginger. What? What was it? She turned to ask her what she had meant, but she had gone, and Margriet’s mother was calling for her.

  ‘Margriet? Had you forgotten we have an appointment with Mr Webster?’ Rosamund was ready to go out.

  Margriet had lost track of the time, but it didn’t take long to scramble into her coat and bonnet. Mr Webster’s office was only a few minutes’ walk away at the top of Parliament Street, and when the lawyer had sent his clerk to arrange a meeting Margriet had suggested that an outing would do them both good, rather than summoning the lawyer to come to them. Somewhat to her surprise, her mother had agreed, and the appointment had been made.

  Webster had recommended that they should ask Ramsey to send her a monthly allowance as she had no other income. ‘He won’t like it, of course, but if his lawyer has any sense he will advise him to do so,’ he had said. It was now the end of March and a letter had been received from Ramsey’s lawyer, Jameson, and they were meeting with Webster to hear the outcome.

  As they walked up the street towards the lawyer’s office, Margriet said, ‘Mama, I’m sure we don’t have to worry too much about managing, even if Mr Ramsey defaults on any payment to you, as I can sell some of my shares that Papa left me, and we can live on the money that they bring.’

  Her mother wasn’t happy about that suggestion and said that her father had probably intended them for her dowry.

  ‘Then I’ll have to consider very carefully before I marry,’ Margriet observed, ‘and not choose a spendthrift like Mr Ramsey.’

  Rosamund flinched. Margriet was right, of course; she should have been more careful and spoken to the lawyer before entering into another marriage contract. How disastrous it could have been but for Webster’s forethought and Frederik’s wisdom in taking his advice. The last thing she wanted was to spend Margriet’s inheritance, for she would never be able to pay it back. She had done some serious thinking since her catastrophic marriage and realized how easily she might have found herself in an even more difficult situation. When Mr Webster had said that Ramsey had an obligation to keep her from the workhouse, she had had the grace to feel ashamed that sh
e had once regarded its inmates as simply undesirable and unworthy. Now she wondered what circumstances had brought them so low.

  ‘We are a little further forward,’ Webster told them when they were seated in his private rooms. ‘I have received a letter from Ramsey’s lawyer, and Jameson says that in principle Ramsey will agree to an annulment of the marriage.’ He glanced at Margriet. ‘Do you wish me to continue this discussion in front of your daughter, Mrs Ramsey?’

  Rosamund hesitated, and caught Margriet’s questioning glance. She considered for a moment and then said, ‘In view of Margriet’s sensible suggestions regarding our situation and livelihood, I think she’s grown up enough to hear what Mr Ramsey has to say.’ She turned to Margriet. ‘But if you are embarrassed by the subject, which in truth is not something I would wish you to hear under normal circumstances, please feel free to leave the room and wait outside.’

  Margriet nodded, and wondered what it might be. She was sorry for her mother; she had always been so genteel and sensitive, but the trauma of this marriage had changed her.

  ‘Very well.’ Webster shifted papers about his desk. ‘The premise is that Ramsey will consider an annulment of your marriage on the condition that you say it is you who have refused to consummate the marriage and not him.’

  Rosamund gave a wry smile. ‘I thought as much. He will not want damaging aspersions cast on his …’ She hesitated, thinking of Margriet.

  ‘Quite so.’ Webster cleared his throat. ‘I agree. I’m considering …’ He paused and folded his hands in front of him. ‘I think we should give Ramsey a little more time to consider his position should you refuse before we send an answer, but I suggest I tell Jameson to advise him to arrange the details of your allowance immediately, as you are suffering under unfavourable monetary circumstances. In the meantime I will make a few enquiries of my own into the state of his affairs.’

  Margriet accompanied her mother home, but then hesitated in the hallway. ‘Mama, I’m going to take a walk. I don’t need Jane with me,’ she added hastily, ‘I’m only stretching my legs as far as Market Place. I won’t be long.’ She opened the door before her mother could object. ‘I think you should ring for tea and take a rest. That meeting was very stressful.’