Doing No Harm (14 page)

What have we here?
Olive asked herself.

Chapter 13

D
ouglas knew a warning glare
when he saw one, however brief. He inclined his head again. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Telford,” he said smoothly.

And it was. Of all the scaff and raff from his decidedly lowbrow upbringing in a cooper’s shop in Walton, Norfolk, he never thought to lay eyes on Elsie Glump again. But there she stood, still about as round as she was tall, her hair covered in a hugely unflattering turban. He remembered her from Glump’s butcher shop, where she had held forth years ago, measuring out bits of beef with one finger on the scale, the old sneak.

The warning stare Elsie had leveled at him told him all he needed to know, and he was willing to play along. Why not? “Thank you so much for letting us occupy a few minutes of your time, my lady,” he told her.

She nodded and gestured most gracefully toward the sofa, where he and Olive sat. A glance at Olive suggested that her curiosity had been aroused, probably because there wasn’t anything Douglas could have done to stop the unruly flush that even now continued to heat his forehead. Better to see it through; he could explain later, if he wasn’t flopped out on the roadway, paralyzed by laughter.

Douglas wondered briefly if Lady Telford would lay tea for them, then decided that was too optimistic. He remembered her husband, the sort of butcher who never gave an extra ounce of even humble cuts, the kind the Bowdens’ ate. Tea and cakes to drop-in visitors? Out of the question.

“Yes? Yes?” Lady Telford demanded, which assured Douglas there would be no tea and cakes. Just as well; he had no faith in his acting abilities. The sooner this was over, the better.

“Lady Telford, I am a surgeon recently retired from the Royal Navy. I wish to let that stone house by the bridge that Miss Grant here tells me is your property.” There. Straightforward and economical, much like a report to a captain on the condition of men in sickbay.

“For how long, Mr. Bowden?” she asked, looking anywhere but at him.

“No more than two months.”

He heard Olive sigh, which made him wonder if that period of time was too long or too short. “Miss Grant, that is enough time to see Tommy Tavish well on the mend, and Mrs. Aintree’s trifling hand surgery sufficiently healed,” he reminded her. “I would really like to be settled somewhere before winter.”

“I suppose,” Olive replied, sounding surprisingly noncommittal for a woman of firm opinion.

Douglas Bowden approved of philanthropy as well as the next man, but he did have his mind determined upon some sort of medical practice that paid better than fish and cream. When he thought Olive’s attention was devoted to Lady Telford, he regarded her for a moment, well aware that he had neither the inclination nor the courage to stake his entire livelihood on tending to the needs of the constantly poor.
Olive, I am not the person you are
, he thought, which did him no credit.

Lady Telford cleared her throat and named her price.

“That is highway robbery,” Olive Grant said firmly, determined, apparently, to fight his battles just as she fought those of the meek folk who ate at her tearoom. Perhaps it was an automatic reflex. She hadn’t given him time to open his mouth. He sat back, wondering how this would turn out. Maybe having someone take up arms on his behalf wasn’t such a bad idea. He had the time, and apparently Olive Grant had the will.

Undeterred, Lady Telford named another price. Olive also refused it and named a lower amount, which made Lady Telford utter something between a gasp and a growl.

Silence. Olive sat a little taller. She leaned forward until Lady Telford had no choice but to follow her lead.

“I am of the certain opinion that if you accept my last offer, Mr. Bowden will relinquish the house completely clean and free of vermin,” Olive said. She leaned even closer, signaling to Douglas that this was the coup de grace. “Besides, I have heard from a creditable source that the house is slightly haunted.”

She sat back, satisfaction on her pretty face, as Douglas stared at her.

“Haunted?” he asked, feeling little cold fingers run up and down his spine.

“Only slightly,” she assured him. “You can get a watchdog.”

Her lips twitched at that, and Douglas had to turn his head and pretend a cough.

Lady Telford went down in defeat. “Very well, I will settle for this ridiculous offer, if Mr. Bowden here has the sum on hand. If not, someone else will have it.”

Who that would have been not one of the three could imagine, if Douglas were to peer inside the brains of each determined woman. He personally knew that no one wanted to locate to Edgar, he among them. He pulled out his wallet and counted out the modest amount that would rent him a house for two months that was only slightly haunted.

“Is there a key, Lady Telford?” Olive asked.

“Under the flower pot by the front door,” the baroness said.

“Is there any furniture in the house?” Douglas asked. He replaced his wallet and wondered how many Romeos and Juliets in Edgar already knew about the key.

“I believe there is a bedstead upstairs, although I would not depend upon a mattress,” Lady Telford said.

Certainly not in a house where probably every sport in town could gain entrance
, Douglas thought, not certain if he was appalled or amused.
It’s a good thing I have medical knowledge of diseases of the amorous variety. I cannot catch something that easily
.

There was no more business to transact, thanks to the expert dickering of Olive Grant. All that remained now was to retreat in good order, ask himself what he had gotten into, and try not to laugh until they were out of earshot.

They all rose at the same time, Lady Telford not meeting his eyes. She turned and swept out of the room, more humorous than dramatic, because she hadn’t the shape to sweep anywhere.

They were down the walk and close to the iron gate, Xerxes their affable if ineffective escort, when Douglas started to laugh. Once the gate creaked shut behind them, Olive pounced on him.

“You recognized her!” she declared. “And she was happy enough to get rid of you. I demand to know what is going on.”

Laughing, he tugged her down the slope, across the bridge, and sat her down on the same bench they had previously occupied. He gave himself over to mirth, something he hadn’t done in a decade or more.

Olive kindly let him, although what she could have done to stop him wasn’t readily obvious. Finally he sat back and accepted the lacy handkerchief she handed him. He gave her a sideways glance, wondering if she thought him a complete idiot.

What he saw reassured him. Her own eyes were lively, as if she had enjoyed his complete surrender to laughter. He could tease her or tell her. Because he was a smart man, he chose the latter.

“I knew her years ago in Walton, Norfolk, as Elsie Glump,” he said, when he could speak. “I know she recognized me.”

“If ever a pair of eyes threw daggers, it was hers,” Olive said, then started to laugh. “At least she did not sic Xerxes on you!”

“You are never going to let me forget that I was afraid of a fat dog, are you?”

“Probably not. Life is far too serious a matter in Edgar to squander one moment of hilarity. I do promise to keep this our secret, however,” she assured him, completely unrepentant. “Glump? Dear me.”

He had her measure. He would have to think of a way to get her back someday, that is, if he planned to spend much time in Edgar beyond the two months he had just committed himself to. “Imagine her in a dirty dress covered by a dirtier apron, if you can. Picture globs of fat and gristle in her hair.”

“I’d rather not, Douglas.”

“Coward! Elsie Glump cheated her customers regularly. Her husband Dudley was a butcher. Olive, Lady Telford is as common as kelp.”

If he thought to startle her, he was mistaken. It was his turn to look puzzled at someone’s reaction. Now her eyes registered something close kin to triumph.

She touched his arm. “Douglas Bowden, you have added the missing link to our chain,” she said. “Shall I fill you in?”

“Please do,” he said, mystified. “Apparently she labors under the misapprehension that everyone in Edgar thinks her to be Lady Telford.”

“Which she is. We suspected Sir Dudley Telford of all manner of misdemeanor, but not a butcher,” Olive said. “We had heard that he owned a valuable piece of property somewhere …”

“… more than likely Norfolk …”

“… which he sold to a consortium buying up land for a canal. It made him amazingly rich. He invested in some fly-by-night scheme that made him even more wealthy.” She waggled her finger at him. “This meant that he came to the attention of the Prince Regent.”

“Prinny himself,” Douglas interjected. “I shudder. Would this have been around the turn of the century? It was common wardroom knowledge in the fleet that our Prinny was constantly in debt.”

“Sir Dudley loaned him quite a sum of money, which Prinny repaid by giving him a knighthood. Though why Telford instead of Glump, I do not know.”

“Let me inform you,” Douglas said. “If I recall correctly, that butcher shop was on Telford Lane, just off the High Street in Walton. You will concede that Telford sounds more dignified than Glump.”

“Decidedly.”

Douglas considered the matter and arrived quickly enough at the logical conclusion. “From the look she gave me, Elsie Glump thinks no one knows. How then …”

“… do we know?” Olive asked. “Someone heard it from someone else. So many people have had a hand in the telling, that I wasn’t certain it was true.”

Something else struck him, and it touched his heart. “You all know?”

“Certainly.”

“And everyone in Edgar continues Elsie Glump’s little charade?”

“Aye, Douglas,” Olive said. “You may not know this about us yet, but on the whole, Edgar is a kind village.” She sighed. “With the exception of what to do for the Highlanders dumped here. We’re a poor village, made poorer by the war, and yet poorest still by the clearing out of northern clan holdings, which really should not have affected us at all.”

“Being kind to Lady Telford is an easy matter, compared to your greater issue,” Douglas said.

Olive nodded.

They sat together in silence, and then he had to ask: “Slightly haunted?”

He wasn’t certain which eye he preferred better and decided on the brown one, simply because his own were brown. Both eyes shone with good humor now, even though he suspected that Edgar’s worries were never far away from Olive Grant.

“I may have exaggerated,” Olive admitted. “Mrs. Campbell claims she sees lights in the upper rooms now and then.”

“Hardly surprising, since the key under the flower pot is likely common knowledge,” Douglas said. He slapped his knees and stood, giving her a hand up too. “I can temporarily solve some of Edgar’s problems right now. Miss Grant, would you organize a working party to clean out that house? I pay very well.”

“Bless you,” she said quietly.

“I assume you know somewhere I can get a mattress, and somewhere else I can find a man handy enough to make me a table and chairs, and a surgery table?”

“Aye and aye,” she said.

They started toward the road. He tried to look at Edgar with new eyes, but he still saw the same shabby village. Worse, the tide was out and the odor ferocious.

“Anything else, sir?”

“I’ll make a list.”

The road was slick and muddy so Douglas crooked out his arm. Olive twined her arm through his, even though he knew she was capable and in no danger of slipping. He walked slowly, so she did too. He thought about the letter he would write to Mrs. Fillion, requesting his trunk and that box of shells. He knew there would be a visit to Dumfries soon to round out other needs and wants for a short stay in a slightly haunted house.

He also knew he had to do something about Edgar.