A Place For Repentance (The Underwood Mysteries Book 6) Page 9

  Martha allowed the exchange to go on for a few seconds, then she said with barely concealed impatience, “That’s enough now, Prue. Lucy will be here presently to take you to bed. Say goodnight and thank you to Mrs Underwood. You too, Minta.”

  The two girls obediently rose to their feet and spoke the words required of them, not very clearly, for their speech was not good, but Verity smiled and bade them goodnight. She was touched when first Prue then Minta stretched out their arms to her for a hug and she gladly obliged, charmed by their sweet and open natures.

  Martha raised an eyebrow, evidently not pleased by the display of affection, “Hm, they don’t usually take to strangers so readily.”

  Verity felt oddly honoured that she had been the recipient.

  Lucy arrived at that moment with the tea tray, which she set down upon an occasional table by the side of the settee and then she led the children away.

  Verity waited until she heard their footsteps on the stairs, then, less to learn what she could about the woman, more to fill the awkward silence which had ensued once the children were gone, she turned to her hostess and asked candidly, “Mrs Jebson, I was so interested to hear you say that you wanted to move to Hanbury, but I wonder if you can possibly be seriously considering it, as Mr Jebson seems so very adamant that it cannot happen.”

  Martha gave a tinkling laugh, equally as carefree as it was scathing, “Oh, him! As if it has anything to do with William. He can pretend to be masterful in front of you and Mr Underwood, hoping to save face, but he knows as well as I do that he would have nothing if I hadn’t married him. He was my father’s penniless apprentice when I decided I would take him on and make something of him. He had the stupid idea that he could work hard and save up enough money to go to University in Scotland and become a doctor. I soon disabused him of that notion, I can tell you. Everyone knows that only the very rich can afford that sort of an education.”

  “Will wanted to be a doctor? That explains why he seems so much more learned than most ...”

  “Shop keepers?” interrupted Martha derisively. “The hours he spent poring over his books and diagrams, I’m not surprised in the least, but that, in spite of his silly ambitions, is all that he is.”

  “I was going to say more learned than most apothecaries,” corrected Verity gently, “but surely he should have been encouraged to become a doctor? He has such a way with him that he would make an excellent medic.”

  “And how many years would I have had to wait to become a wife, whilst he pursued a fantasy which could never come to fruition? I don’t mind admitting, Mrs Underwood, that time was not on my side. You may not have noticed, but I am a little older than my husband.”

  Verity was far too kind to concede that she had indeed noticed that a good few years separated Will and his wife, so she remained silent.

  “Anyway, I had my way, as is my habit – I am rarely thwarted once I set my mind upon something.”

  Looking into the face of her companion, noting the strong jaw, the determined set of the eyes, Verity could well believe that Martha was not easily daunted and she felt a sudden pang of sympathy for Will, who, being kindly and obliging, would find it almost impossible to gainsay this woman, especially if she played upon his chivalrous nature.

  “But you evidently have some aspirations. This proposed move to Hanbury would seem to be all about improving your business.”

  “Oh, I have no objection to William making more money for his family – in fact, I insist upon it. The children are getting older and they sadly will need care for their whole lives. It is unthinkable that they will be able to marry or even work for their keep. My own feeling is that we should send them to a place where they can be looked after away from the prying eyes of our neighbours. I despise and resent the constant looks of sympathy which are sent my way. But William will not hear of it. It is easy for him; he goes off to the shop every day. He does not feel trapped as I do. He sees his two little girls as angels in the house, not a burden which will drag us down for the rest of our lives.”

  Whilst Verity could empathize with what Martha was saying, and her heart ached for the situation in which this tragic family found themselves, there was a large part of her that was appalled that a woman could even consider for one single second committing her children to an asylum – for that was what Martha was hinting. Rich people could afford to send their troubled relations to fancy sanatoria where they would be cared for well, even though they were still isolated from the rest of society. However, for poorer people, the only alternative would be public madhouse, a Bedlam, and that would be a living nightmare. Verity was all too aware of what went on in such places, with the inmates treated little better than animals. It was not uncommon for patients to be chained up, or tied to their beds and controlled by dousing in freezing water or brutal beatings. As if this were not bad enough, they were also put on display for the amusement of the general public, who paid for the privilege of mocking and debasing the unfortunate insane.

  “Oh, pray do not even think such a thing,” she pleaded, “take my vow that I will do all I can to help you move to Hanbury if you think that will ensure you have enough money to keep your dear little girls at home with you and Will.”

  Martha’s tiny malicious smile of triumph was not observed by the distraught Verity, who was too deeply engrossed in her horrified imaginings of life in an asylum to notice her companion’s expression.

  *

  Oddly – and probably for the first time ever in the history of human kind – the conversation in the dining room amongst the men was almost exactly the same as the ladies’ discussion in the other room. Namely the Jebsons proposed removal from West Wimpleford to Hanbury.

  It was Lindell who broached the subject first, for though he knew Will slightly, it was as a customer in his shop only. He was not a member of the vicar’s flock, who were mainly inhabitants of Dacorum-in-the-Marsh. This being the case he had only a vague interest in where the gentleman and his family resided except for his own convenience when winter came and everyone fell victim to the usual coughs and colds.

  “Is Mrs Jebson quite serious about making a new start in Hanbury, Will?”

  The apothecary looked grim, “I’m very much afraid she is, but she can disabuse herself of the notion, because it is not going to happen.”

  Underwood looked at his new friend thoughtfully. The revelation was not one that he had been expecting, nor had the possibility occurred to him until this evening. However, now that the notion had been proffered, he saw that it could be very much to his advantage.

  The truth was that Underwood had very nearly the perfect life in Hanbury – thanks mainly to his wife, who unobtrusively saw to his every comfort, but that was not something he considered, so accustomed to it was he. He only knew that he enjoyed a degree of isolation in his home which suited him well, since it was just a couple of miles outside the town, but it was near enough, when the mood was upon him, for him to make good use of all that Hanbury had to offer, from theatres and shops to inns which served good food and fine wines, from a commodious lending library to the health-giving spa. He was surrounded by a coterie of close friends, but had the added fascination of an ever-changing population of visitors to pique his ever-lively curiosity. Certainly the winter weather could be harsh, but that simply gave him the excuse to sit by the fire and while away the cold evenings with his nose in a book and also freed him from the tedium of having to call upon his acquaintance or have them call upon him, for months at a time.

  For Will Jebson to join him in Hanbury, bringing with him all the expertise of his profession, as well as his pleasant company, was something that Underwood, as a self-confessed hypochondriac, thought was a splendid idea.

  “Forgive my impertinence, but may I ask why is she so very set on the notion, my dear fellow, and why are you resolutely against it?” he asked, choosing to ignore the fact that Will very obviously had no wish to discuss the matter.

  Will could never bring himsel
f to be deliberately rude – especially not to someone of whom he was fond, so he sighed heavily and replied, “Martha thinks that it would be to our financial benefit to live somewhere which attracts a high proportion of invalids.”

  “In that she is not mistaken, is she?”

  “Perhaps not, but her thoughts are all for money – she gives no importance to our little girls’ emotional wellbeing.”

  Both Underwood and Lindell were confused and their blank looks told Will that he had failed to convince them of the strength of his argument. He attempted to elucidate, “Prue and Minta have lived in Wimpleford all their lives. People here are used to them and their odd ways. To take them away from everything they have known; from a place where people accept them, and take them to an alien environment, where they will doubtless be whispered about, have fingers pointed at them and cruel comments made in their hearing – no, gentlemen, I will not do that to my daughters, not for all the riches that Hanbury may or may not have to offer.”

  His guests could see why he might be concerned, but they were both swift to assure him that he was mistaken. Underwood in particular was adamant that he would find no such prejudice in his adopted home.

  “My friend, I fear you have lashed yourself into a frenzy for no cause at all. You seem to forget that Hanbury is full of people who have troubles as challenging as your girls, and some far worse. I can name you half a dozen young men who have sustained the most terrible, disfiguring injuries in battle but who live quite happily in Hanbury, with never an ill-word or scathing glance sent in their direction. Prue and Minta would be no novelty there, I do assure you.”

  Will appeared to be somewhat mollified by this and his frown lifted while his stiffened shoulders relaxed considerably, “Do you really think so, Mr Underwood?”

  “Indeed I do.”

  “But it is still a great risk to take. What if Martha is wrong and we do no better there than we have here? All the expense of moving and then to gain no profit. No, I cannot contemplate it. I cannot allow my lease on the shop to expire only to find that I have made a dreadful error and have left my family without an income or a roof over their heads.”

  At that moment Martha and Verity came into the dining room to urge the gentlemen to join them in the parlour. They heard the end of this conversation and Martha smiled in triumph, “William, I have the perfect solution to your dilemma. I shall travel to Hanbury and look about for suitable premises and to gather information about the town and its needs. You shall stay here and keep the shop until I return. I swear to you that I will be truthful about our prospects. If Hanbury is not going to make our fortunes, I will come back here and never speak of the matter again. I only ask that you at least allow me to look into the possibility.”

  This was the most reasonable concession the lady had made all evening and the tension in the room was palpable. They all waited for Will to make his decision. He was fully aware of all the eyes upon him and the pressure he felt to please them all was almost unbearable, for he was still unsure.

  Underwood was feeling a similar stress, but for an entirely different reason. He waited with bated breath for Verity to make the offer of their home for Mrs Jebson’s convenience, knowing that once the words were spoken by his soft-hearted wife he would not be able to gainsay her. He envisioned a miserable few weeks whilst he shared his house with this disagreeable woman.

  Thankfully, and for probably the first time in her life, Verity did not allow her heart to rule her head. She pressed her lips firmly together to prevent the fateful words from escaping. She really could not endure to have Martha Jebson as a house-guest, no matter how much she liked and admired her husband.

  Will spoke at last, “I accept that is a good plan, Martha, but what of the girls? You cannot drag them about Hanbury with you and I cannot care for them here and keep the shop running too. No, I’m sorry, it is not a viable proposition.”

  “Lucy can look after them,” said Martha promptly.

  “No, they are too much for her. You seem to forget that she is barely old enough to be working for us at all and certainly is not fit to take on so much responsibility. You know Prue and Minta require constant vigilance.”

  Lindell, who had a small personal problem to solve, immediately saw an end to his own dilemma. If there was one talent which most vicars possessed, it was the ability to find a philanthropic solution to almost every conundrum, though they usually credited ‘divine intervention’ for the inspiration; “I might perhaps be able to help with that.”

  All eyes turned to him, “I happen to know a young lady who is in desperate need of a place to stay and a little money to help her back onto her feet,” he added with a smile of satisfaction. What could be better? He had rid himself of the French girl and helped the Jebsons in the same move.

  Everyone greeted this solution with great enthusiasm and the conversation immediately turned to all that could be accomplished by Mrs Jebson in Hanbury and how the Underwoods would certainly aid her in finding a reasonably priced lodging house for her stay.

  Only Underwood noticed that Will Jebson had turned pale and fallen silent as though something was troubling him very deeply.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘Non Placet’ – It does not please

  Verity was tasked with telling Violette of her change of fortune. It did not occur to any of them that the girl might refuse the offer of employment. She was not, after all, in a position to be overly fastidious. However, the older woman was rather astonished to find that the French girl showed no real surprise that she had been invited to work for the apothecary, indeed, she looked as though the result had been a foregone conclusion. It was almost, Verity confided to her husband later, as though she had planned for just such an eventuality. Indeed it had disquieted Verity so greatly that she had felt obliged to reassure herself that Violette fully understood the task she would be taking on.

  “You do like children?” she had asked anxiously. “You know how to play with them, how to pander to their needs?”

  “Oh, yes, I have worked as a French governess before I was an actress.”

  The fact that she added nothing to this comment told Verity that she was perhaps, better not knowing exactly why the girl had left a comfortable position as a governess, presumably in a well-to-do household, for the uncertain profession of acting.

  Underwood was only too aware that his wife, for all her gentle nature, was no fool. He pondered on her report and finally asked, “Is there something about Violette that worries you, my dear? Are we making an error in recommending her to Will and his wife?”

  Verity thought carefully before she answered him, “No, I don’t think she is a bad person. Rather she is a desperate one and I am concerned that she could inadvertently cause trouble. There was something a little odd about her eagerness to accept the position with the Jebsons without even asking to meet the children first. I would have thought her previous experiences would have taught her to be more circumspect.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” said Underwood comfortingly. “As you say, she is without resources or friends who can help. She is probably just grateful for any respite from penury. Doubtless we would behave in the same way if we were penniless, hungry and without friends. And after all, it is only for a week or two whilst Mrs Jebson satisfies herself that Hanbury is the place she wants to start a new business.”

  They left the matter at that, but there lingered in Underwood’s mind a faint, but very real, apprehension about the French girl; a tiny niggle that troubled him from time to time, wondering exactly who she was and where she had really come from – for he was positive it was not Flanders.

  It is doubtful that either of the Underwoods would have been consoled had they known the reason Violette was so calm about her sudden change in fortune. She had ever been superstitious and simply felt that fate had delivered her into the hands of a man she liked and trusted. Of course he was married, but Violette was French and was accustomed to the idea tha
t she might very well be called upon to share the man whom she had decided was her destiny. It did not occur to her that such a solution might not meet with the approval of the straight-laced English. It was all just meant to be and something would occur to facilitate her desires. What that might be, she had no idea and she had no intention of trying to make any plans, since previous experience had shown her that this was utterly pointless. No matter how carefully laid, plans rarely worked out. If there was anything that her strange and eventful life had taught Violette, it was that something always turned up; not always, perhaps, something good, but something, nevertheless.

  *

  All too soon their holiday was drawing to a close. They had one last engagement and then it would be time to pack up and return to Hanbury.

  Dinner at Pershore House should have been a treat, but as Underwood was in possession of information unknown to the others, he wondered just how congenial the evening was destined to be. Rutherford had sworn that he intended to inform his sister of his determination to return to Australia and Underwood suspected that he might just use the presence of others to protect him from the worst of the backlash this was bound to cause.

  Of course the boy did precisely what Underwood had feared, though he waited until the gentlemen had finished their port and re-joined the ladies for tea in the drawing room before he sprang his surprise.