by Janet Woods
If they hadn’t worked so hard at being popular they might have left something to help support their children, she thought, and vowed that she’d never be irresponsible with money if she married and became a mother.
Helen Elliot reached out to squeeze her hand. ‘I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me . . . especially since you find yourself in such difficult circumstances. You would have led a very different life if they’d lived, I imagine.’
Livia shrugged. ‘It’s been six years, Mrs Elliot. Moping about it won’t bring them back.’
‘That’s the ticket,’ Dr Elliot said, and ambled off.
Helen Elliot lingered. ‘I understand you have a brother and sister to support?’
Livia nodded. ‘They’ve just turned eight, and they can’t remember our parents, which is a blessing. When I have time, I’m hoping to find them somewhere near here where they can stay, so I can see them more often.’
‘You must come and visit us one day, so we can have a proper chat.’
‘I’d like that.’
Mrs Mortimer cut in, her smile so thin it could have skinned a tomato. ‘You’ll have to excuse the maid, Mrs Elliot, she has work to do. Go to the kitchen and fetch some hot water, Carr.’
‘We have hot water.’
After Helen Elliot moved off, Mrs Mortimer frowned. ‘You’re being paid to work, not to stand and gossip. It was a good job the major wasn’t here to see what was going on.’
As if on cue the major entered, looking shaken. ‘You’ll excuse me please, everyone. I’ve just received word that my son has been injured. Sir John didn’t have much information, but it’s a head wound apparently.’
Dr Elliot moved to the sideboard and poured him a brandy. ‘Here, drink this. How bad is he . . . did they say?’
‘No . . . just that he’s being shipped back to England and will spend some time in the City Hospital before he’s sent to a convalescent centre. I’m glad his mother didn’t live to see this.’
So was Livia. Margaret Sangster had adored her son.
Sympathetic murmurs filled the room at the thought of this double tragedy. The guests’ condolences were offered again, and they began to drift away, leaving their host with this extra trouble in his life, glad it hadn’t happened to one of theirs, and hoping it never would.
Livia began to remove the dishes and leftovers, though most of the funeral feast had been consumed. Florence joined her and they soon put the room to rights.
Just before the Elliot couple left, the doctor said, ‘Don’t give up hope, Henry. If they’re shipping him home there’s a possibility that he’s strong enough to survive the journey. And people do recover from head injuries.’
‘Yes, of course . . . I’ll go up to London right away . . . use the Rolls, since there won’t be a train until morning. I’ll be there for him.’
His gaze went to Rosemary Mortimer and his lids hooded sleepily as he contemplated her, the nature of his relationship close to the surface, despite his shock over his son becoming a casualty. ‘You’d better come too, Mrs Mortimer. I’ll need someone to look after my household while I sort out the legalities of my wife’s estate. My London housekeeper has left my employ.’
Smug-faced, Rosemary Mortimer left instructions that the house was to be spring-cleaned from top to bottom. ‘I’ll leave you in charge, Livia. That way I’ll know who to blame if the work’s not done to my satisfaction.’
They watched the couple go, the major at the wheel and Mrs Mortimer by his side, her face snuggled against the blue velvet collar of a coat that had belonged to the late Mrs Sangster.
‘Brazen . . . the pair of them,’ Florence murmured, for the maid had soon winkled out the household situation. ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.’
‘Don’t crow too soon. She’ll be back, and I wager there will be a ring on her finger,’ Connie commented gloomily.
To save any further speculation, Livia began to make plans for the task she’d been left with. ‘We’ll start at the top and work our way down. We’ll clean the main bedrooms first, except for Mrs Sangster’s rooms. We’ll leave them until last . . .’
But as soon as the car drove off the three of them held hands and danced around the hall until they were dizzy and delirious with laughter.
Five
April arrived clad in soft showers, a fluttering of peacock butterflies, wood anemones and primroses. The pond was full of tadpoles, the birds sweetly sang their melodies, and, on high, a watchful hawk circled on silent wings.
The house had been scrubbed and polished, and Mr Bugg and Florence had washed the windows – one standing on the outside, the other on the inside. There was very little left to do, so they’d put dustsheets over the furniture in the main rooms, and could now relax.
On the very last day of the month, a letter arrived for Livia.
‘Joseph Anderson and Simon Stone. It’s from a solicitor,’ she whispered, turning it over in her hands. ‘I expect it’s for the major.’
‘Since when has the major’s name been Miss Olivia Carr?’
‘But why would a solicitor be writing to me?’ Fear stabbed her. ‘I hope my sister and brother are all right.’
Connie rolled her eyes. ‘Stop thinking the worst. There’s only one way to find out . . . open the damned thing!’
Livia used the sharpest kitchen knife and carefully prised open the flap, since it would be sacrilege to damage such an important and official-looking envelope. The letter was crisply typewritten on pale cream paper, the signature a crouching spider of a scribble that looked as though it might unfold its legs and sprint from the page. Simon Stone was typed underneath, in case his writing didn’t do his signature justice.
Florence leaned over one shoulder to read the letter with her, painfully mouthing the words. Connie gazed over the other shoulder.
‘Fancy,’ Connie said. ‘Mr Stone is coming here in person to see you. On Friday, at eleven.’
‘That’s only three days away,’ Florence added.
‘He has a matter of importance he needs to discuss with me.’
‘He doesn’t give much away,’ Connie said, clearly disappointed. ‘And to think I signed as a witness to Mrs Sangster’s signature for him.’
‘He’s probably coming to hand over the money that Mrs Sangster left for you and Mr Bugg in her will.’
Connie looked aggressive. ‘He should have written to me then, since I’ve been here the longest.’
Florence looked glum. ‘I wish someone would leave me fifty pounds.’
‘Do you now?’ Connie’s hands went to her hips. ‘You haven’t worked here long enough. Mr Bugg was employed by the family when he were a lad, and I’ve worked here for nigh on thirty years. As for Livia, she’s been here for nearly five years, and she did a lot for poor Mrs Sangster that wasn’t her duty to do, and from the goodness of her heart. She’s never complained once. Mrs Sangster took a shine to her right from the beginning, and that’s a fact. But she didn’t get any legacy, so why are you complaining?’
‘I’m not complaining. I just said—’
Livia broke in swiftly, ‘But why would they need to see me for that when it’s none of my business? All they need do is give the money over to Major Henry. He told you the amount was insignificant, Connie, and he’d hand over the money when it had been cleared by the lawyers.’
‘It might be insignificant to him, but when you’ve got only a small wage coming in . . .’
Florence shrugged, clearly uninterested because she was not to be included in any bounty that the death of Mrs Sangster had brought to Connie and Mr Bugg. ‘What shall I do with that personal stuff in the nurse’s room?’
‘Pack it into her suitcase. I can’t authorize it to be sent on unless she’s left some money to pay for it. I’ll telephone Nurse Gifford and ask her what to do with it. Those nurses are run off their feet looking after the sick as well as the wounded. She doesn’t deserve to lose everything she owns just because Mrs Mortimer got into one of her moods.�
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‘Mortimer is a spiteful cow . . . that she is,’ Connie murmured, and thumped her fist into a mound of risen bread dough. ‘I hope he doesn’t marry her, but she doesn’t give up easily. She was wearing Mrs Sangster’s blue coat with the velvet collar and matching hat when she left, and I’ve got an awful feeling . . . In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs Mortimer hadn’t done away with her.’
Florence’s eyes widened.
So did Livia’s, because she suddenly remembered the pillow in Mrs Mortimer’s hands, and hearing her tell Mrs Sangster she could put her out of her misery. She made a murmur of distress in her throat. No . . . it was spite on Mrs Mortimer’s part. And she must put a stop to this sort of speculation.
She sent Connie a warning glance before saying to Florence, ‘Connie doesn’t mean that seriously, so don’t you go repeating it to anyone, else we might end up in court for slander.’
‘What’s slander?’
‘Making a malicious statement about someone that isn’t true and can’t be proved. I was there when she died. The doctor told me that Mrs Sangster died because of that fall. It damaged a vein inside her head, and it ruptured.’
Connie embroidered Livia’s explanation with: ‘Perhaps she tripped over the cat.’
‘Since when have we had a cat? Mrs Mortimer doesn’t like them, they make her sneeze.’
‘Then I might gather a few strays up and let them run around her room for a while, before she comes back.’
It was hard not to laugh at Florence, but Livia knew she shouldn’t encourage her. Mrs Mortimer must have a good side to her, and she held a position of trust in the household. If Connie were to be believed, she might end up being mistress of the house. Florence’s gossip would only make matters worse.
‘We’d better stop this gossiping. Whether we like it or not, Mrs Mortimer is in charge of us, and we must respect that. She might have come back and be outside the door listening. And before you pack that suitcase, Florence, you can set the table for lunch if you would.’
Connie sighed. ‘Livia’s right, Florence. After you’ve done that, tell Mr Bugg that I’ve cooked his favourite steak and kidney pie, and he’s to come in for it at one o’clock sharp.’
When Florence’s stomach rattled noisily, Livia grinned. Florence liked her food, but she was a good worker. She hoped Mrs Mortimer didn’t dismiss her when she returned from London.
‘After lunch, we’ll clean Mrs Sangster’s room. With the bathroom next door, and the nurse’s room the other side, they might need to use it for Captain Richard Sangster.’ Livia looked down at the letter again. ‘Perhaps Mr Stone is coming with instructions to do with his care . . . after all, I was put in charge of the household.’
Connie said reflectively, ‘Poor lad. That will be it then. I just hope the solicitor brings my legacy with him. I’m of a mind to have a good day out. I thought I might go on the church outing in June. We could all go together and bathe in the sea and have fish and chips for dinner. We’d have to book a seat in the charabanc though.’
Chad and Esmé would enjoy doing that, Livia thought. But she didn’t have any money to spare for pleasure. ‘You two go. Someone will have to stay to mind the house. Besides, I’m saving up to go to visit my sister and brother in London again. I promised them I’d try and get there more often.’
Livia had built up a picture of Simon Stone in her mind, in which he was tall and thin with a long, serious face. In fact, he was middle-aged, rather rotund, and gave her a jolly smile as he took her hand between his.
She’d tossed up whether to use the drawing room, but he might think it a little pretentious. Instead, she took him to the smaller morning room – the one Margaret Sangster had used before the accident had confined her to her bedchamber, she’d been given to understand.
‘Would you like some refreshment, Mr Stone?’
‘That would be very kind of you, my dear.’
With that ordered, they settled down to business.
‘Is this to do with Mr Richard Sangster?’
He gazed at her. ‘Why should you think that?’
‘Well . . . I’d heard that he’d been injured, and thought that he might be coming home soon, and you were here to give me instructions.’
‘Dear me, no. Captain Sangster will be in hospital for some time to come, I imagine.’
‘Oh . . . I’m so sorry . . . I hadn’t realized his condition was so bad. His mother would have been upset had she known.’
‘Then be happy she didn’t survive long enough to find out.’
‘Why are you here then, Sir?’
‘I’m here at Mrs Sangster’s instruction. You’re probably aware that Mrs Sangster had a private income and one or two properties of her own.’
‘No, I didn’t know, Sir. That sort of information wouldn’t be shared with someone of my standing, and should remain private. Major Henry wouldn’t like it being discussed with me.’
‘Quite. However, I’ve already been through the matter with the major.’
‘What matter?’
‘There’s a sizeable cottage not far from here. It’s furnished, and is available to you for a peppercorn rent while you have need of it. Maintenance will be paid by the estate.’
‘I don’t understand. Won’t the cottage now belong to Richard Sangster?’
‘He will agree to the arrangement she made. There’s also a small allowance, and when combined with the wage you earn here, and the money you pay to help support them in the orphanage, it will be enough to provide for your siblings.’
‘I still don’t understand.’
‘Come now, Miss Carr. You’re an intelligent young lady, or so I’ve been led to believe. What don’t you understand about it? Mrs Sangster wanted to carry out a charitable act, and this is a grace and favour cottage.’
‘But why me?’
‘Because she feels . . . felt, that you’d need help to meet your obligations over the coming years. If you marry during that time, then the agreement is null and void, as your husband would be expected to provide for you.’
Choked up by the thought that Mrs Sangster would extend such a generous hand of friendship to her, Livia promptly began to cry. ‘I’m not worthy of this. There are people worse off.’
‘Believe me, Miss Carr, your background was inspected thoroughly before you started work here. You are eminently suitable as a candidate for the charity offered by Mrs Sangster in her last will and testament. We cannot take into account your parents’ lack of responsibility towards you, only the consequence.’
‘They loved us.’
‘Children need more than love, my dear. They need a home, and that’s something you’re already aware of.’ Simon Stone extended his handkerchief for her use. ‘There is more, Miss Carr.’
She mopped her eyes then gazed helplessly at him. ‘What more could there be?’
‘Your brother will be the recipient of a scholarship if he proves to be educationally worthy.’
‘I’m given to understand that he’s a clever boy.’
‘Nevertheless, he’s not trying hard enough to produce results at the moment. To that end he will receive extra tutoring, if you will permit it. He will be expected to apply himself, of course.’
Her sigh was tinged with relief, because this was the answer to her prayers, and at long last she could see a future ahead for her family. ‘I’ll try and make sure that he does. You’ve been thorough.’
He nodded. ‘Last, but not least, there is the issue of Mrs Sangster’s wardrobe. She wants you to have her clothing. Not the jewellery, of course, which will belong to Richard Sangster. But she did give me this keepsake for you, so you’ll always have something to remember her by.’
It was a gold ring with small white stones clustered around one yellow one in the middle. Livia smiled, remembering admiring it because it was unusual. ‘It’s a daisy, I think, and so pretty. I’ll cherish it. Didn’t Major Sangster mind?’
‘He was informed of the arrangement out o
f courtesy, though his approval was not sought. He didn’t voice any objection either, which was his right. However, he’s made a request, which I will discuss with you in a little while. His son’s condition is a great worry to him, you see. I believe the captain will be moved nearer home soon. They are waiting for a vacancy at the convalescent home at Brownsea Island.’
She poured the tea into delicate blue and white cups that matched the teapot, and offered him some fruitcake, her sudden bounty making her feel like the lady of the manor. ‘How bad is Richard Sangster, Mr Stone? Can you tell me?’
‘I don’t see why not. Richard Sangster can hardly speak. He shakes and trembles, so he’s too uncoordinated to walk unaided. He suffers from blinding headaches at times, and at other times he can hardly breathe. As well as his injuries, he was gassed. To be honest, he’s not expected to live very long. He’s expressed a wish that he be allowed to spend what life he does have left in his home.’
She gave a small, distressed cry. ‘The poor man! I must think about this before I decide whether to accept the legacy or not. What will happen to my brother and sister when the Sinclair estate is eventually passed on?’
‘You misunderstand. This arrangement has got nothing to do with the Sinclair estate. The cottage has become the property of Margaret Sangster’s son under her will, along with everything else she owned. Richard has been consulted, and is prepared to accept the condition attached to that particular property for the time being. When he dies, I imagine the major will inherit it. He has verbally promised to honour the agreement by leaving the arrangement as it is.’
He smiled and slid a key across the table. ‘The present tenant has agreed to allow you to look the place over while he’s absent for a few days. If you’re satisfied with it there are certain protocols to observe . . . papers to sign.’
She placed her hand on his arm and whispered, ‘This is not a cruel joke, is it? You said Major Sangster had made a request. What is it?’
‘I will emphasize that this isn’t a condition. The major wants you to take on the overall responsibility of the household, and to make sure his son is looked after properly when he finally returns home. He feels it will be beneficial for Richard to have a permanent carer, and he wants him to be made as comfortable as possible. He feels that his son will respond better to a pretty young thing like you. The captain will, of course, have a man to see to his private needs. The same man will also be responsible for any heavy work around the house.’