Mistress of Greyladies (18 page)

‘We’ll do our best. Miss Bowers will be a great help in that, if we’re allowed to tell her the true situation. She used to be the headmistress of the village school and now she’s our sons’ governess. She’s a very capable woman and is greatly respected in the district.’

‘My department will be happy to accept help from anyone who has skills to share. It’s not as hidebound as the army proper.’

‘Could we ask what your department is?’

‘Oh, it’s just a side shoot of the main operation. It tidies things up and does little jobs that don’t fit elsewhere, like setting up this not-so-convalescent home.’

Joseph didn’t press the point. Clearly there was to be no clearer explanation offered.

After they’d finished their meal, Corin asked Harriet and Benedict to show him round both the old and the new parts of the house, and invited Phoebe to join them.

She was looking forward to seeing the rest of the house, but she felt sorry for Joseph. She looked round from the door and saw him sigh. It must be galling to face life with such limitations on your movements when there was nothing whatsoever wrong with your brain.

Then she forgot everything as she enjoyed her tour. They started at the attics, because people were still carrying things out from the ground floor, though the piles of boxes and bundles in the hall had decreased considerably.

As Benedict walked round with the others, commenting on changes made to accommodate the hospital, he felt sad at the thought of leaving this lovely house. He hadn’t been here for long, but there was something special about Greyladies. He’d felt immediately at home here, which wasn’t something that normally happened to him. He was sorry it wasn’t suitable for his purpose.

He led the way down from the attics and saw Matron moving rapidly away from the foot of the narrow stairs. The woman had clearly been eavesdropping again.

‘Wait there while I deal with this,’ he told the others and ran down the last few stairs, calling, ‘Matron!’

She gave him one of her frosty looks. ‘Yes, Dr Somers?’

‘I know what you’re doing. Please mind your own business from now on and confine your activities to the ground floor and your office while Mrs Latimer is showing the major round upstairs.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

He abandoned the attempt to be tactful. ‘I don’t appreciate the way you’re trying to eavesdrop on the rest of us.’

‘How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I was going about my normal business.’

‘No, you weren’t.’ He held up one hand. ‘Don’t argue. Just go down to the ground floor, if you please, and don’t come back up here till we’ve finished our tour.’

Her face went so dark red, he wondered if she was going to have a seizure, but she tossed her head and stormed off. Drat the woman! She had been the thorn in his flesh all the time he’d been here. He hoped he’d never have to work with her again.

He was glad the arrangements for moving his patients had gone through so quickly and smoothly. It was partly a result, he suspected, of McMinty’s department intervening.

Then his sense of fairness compelled him to admit that it was also thanks to Matron’s excellent administrative skills. He smiled at that thought. Wouldn’t she be surprised to know what he thought?

As the tour continued, Corin said quietly to Phoebe, ‘You bear a close resemblance to Mrs Latimer.’

She beamed at him. ‘My mother was a Latimer, so we’re some sort of distant cousins. Isn’t that a happy coincidence?’

‘Wonderful for you.’

Benedict overheard and wondered about that. This was such a strange house, you could almost believe it wasn’t just a coincidence.

When the tour was over, he excused himself and went to tackle his bedroom, not wanting an orderly fiddling with his clothes and personal possessions. He had the way he packed
his things down to a system now, because he’d moved several times since the beginning of the war.

Since all the patients had left, he worked solidly through the rest of the afternoon and soon had the things in the bedroom packed, after which, he went to tackle his office.

But it took him most of the evening to deal with that. He really must find himself an adjutant for the next hospital. He’d thought he could manage without, but as he gained more responsibilities, he couldn’t, even with clerical help.

He closed the lid of the last box and sat down at the desk, feeling utterly weary after the frenetic activity of the past few days.

He woke with a start some time later to find that the lamp had gone out. It’d probably run out of oil. The hospital he was going to had brand-new electric lighting, which would be wonderful for operations.

There was enough moonlight coming in through the windows for him to find his electric hand torch and he was just about to switch it on before finding his way through the boxes when he heard a sound in the hall.

He went out of his office, moving as quietly as he could, not switching the torch on. Who was wandering round the house at this hour of the night? Could it be a burglar? Some people were taking advantage of the war to steal and sell small pieces of hospital equipment when they could, he knew. If that was so, he’d teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

The white figure stood out clearly in the moonlit darkness. A woman. Not the family ghost. He smiled grimly as he recognised her. Matron was far too solidly built for a
ghost. What the hell was she doing wandering around in the middle of the night?

Then he frowned, seeing something in her hand. It looked like some sort of small hand tool. She moved and the moonlight showed him a chisel. What on earth did she want with that?

She was standing by the door into the old house and he suddenly realised what she was about to do. To his horror, she raised the chisel to the ancient door, ready to gouge the wood. He’d seen her glare at that door many a time. Had she run mad? She must have.

And he wasn’t close enough to stop her damaging the dark old wood.

But someone else was. Before he could yell at Matron to stop, light flared suddenly around the door.

Matron uttered one shrill yelp of shock and froze. She still had the chisel raised, ready to cause damage. Why wasn’t she moving? Had a ghost really been able to stop her? He could see the figure of Anne Latimer clearly now. He’d seen her a couple of times before, though he’d not told anyone. Who’d believe him if he did?

The founder of Greyladies looked stern tonight, not at all like the usual smiling, kindly figure.

Matron began panting and whimpering in her throat, seeming unable to speak or move.

‘
You will not – harm – my family’s house
.’

Suddenly Matron moaned and said, ‘Let me go! You
can’t
exist. You’re a toy of the devil.’

He didn’t attempt to intervene. The house had its own guardian. He had never been quite sure whether ghosts could exist till he came here, still believed most tales about them
were figments of people’s imaginations. But in this house, he believed that Anne Latimer was indeed still here, protecting it.

Well, it was more than a mere house; it was a legacy that had lasted through several centuries to help women in trouble. Even during his short stay, Harriet had quietly given help to the wife of one of his patients, doing things beyond his remit, using Latimer money.

He’d had a couple of chats with Miss Bowers about ghosts and even that practical woman had seen Anne Latimer, it seemed. She’d smiled at him and said confidently, ‘You’ve seen her, too.’

He hadn’t denied it.

He was startled by the chisel falling suddenly from Matron’s hand, to clatter on the wooden floor. She remained standing perfectly motionless, though, eyes staring, alive with hatred.

Then slowly, her face began to change. Something was calming her down. He’d seen that expression on patients’ faces many a time, at the moment when their pain medication started to take effect.

Slowly Matron’s raised hand fell. Her body relaxed visibly, then she began to sway.

At last he was able to move and crossed the last few paces between them in time to catch her before she hit the floor.

Kneeling down holding her unconscious body, he looked up at Anne Latimer, waiting for her to speak to him, quite sure she would have something to say.

‘
We shall meet again, Benedict Somers
.’

‘I shall look forward to it, ma’am.’

And just like that, he was alone, crouching awkwardly on
the floor, with a plump woman he detested lying unconscious in his arms.

He got up. He couldn’t carry her on his own, so he used the rug to drag Matron across to a sofa and arrange her decorously on it. He put the rug back and hid the chisel.

What should he do about the incident? Ought he to report it? Did one moment of madness mean a person must be locked away, or sacked from their career?

He hoped not. He’d study Matron carefully when she regained consciousness. It might not be necessary to do anything. After all she was going to a job dealing with equipment not patients.

It took longer than he’d expected for her to come fully back to her senses and by that time he’d found and lit a lamp. He waited where she could see him but not too close.

When she sat up with a start, he said quietly, ‘I think you must have been sleepwalking, Matron.’

She gasped and peered across the dimly lit space. ‘Dr Somers?’

‘Yes.’

She frowned and stared round. ‘I can’t remember how I got here.’

‘I believe that’s normal when people sleepwalk.’

‘I used to wander round in my sleep when I was a child. I don’t know why I’d start doing it again, though.’

‘I think you must have been overtired, Matron. You’ve worked extremely hard to wind things up here.’

‘Yes. Of course that must be it.’ She shivered and stood up. ‘I shall be glad to leave, I must admit. I don’t like this house. I think I’ll go up to my room now.’

‘Do you want me to accompany you?’

‘No, of course not.’

Without a glance in the direction of the door, she walked up the stairs, not moving as briskly as usual. She’d spoken in a calmer tone, too.

He let out his breath in a long, slow burst of relief. She didn’t remember. She’d probably be all right in charge of supplies. He’d have a word with her boss, tell him she’d been overdoing it and to keep a close eye on her at first.

Benedict looked round for the chisel and went across to pick it up, taking it through the unusually quiet kitchen to the back door. The key wasn’t in the lock, so he put the chisel on the floor and left it. Let them wonder how it had got there. He was too tired to hunt for the key and even if he got outside, he didn’t know where the chisel came from.

It was only as he was snuggling down in bed that he remembered what the ghost had said.

‘
We shall meet again, Benedict Somers
.’

He’d like that. One day, when this dreadful war was over and he didn’t face the heart-rending and often impossible task of trying to mend badly damaged bodies, he’d take a quiet drive through the countryside and call in at Greyladies. He was sure he’d find a welcome here.

Major McMinty proved to be very efficient, and also showed respect for the old house. Joseph watched in approval as the new commandant set about preparing the place for its unusual occupants and purpose.

The adjutant arrived the day after the major, a round-faced youngish man, whose amiable expression belied his extreme efficiency and shrewdness.

He arranged for the first group of aliens to arrive in mid December. They were older men, who looked nervous, as if they expected someone to shout at them, or worse. Corin’s uniform seemed to intimidate them, because in his presence they spoke only when they had to.

They’d come from several different camps and only the three from the internment camp on the Isle of Man had met each other before, and they even seemed wary of the internees they didn’t know.

They were extremely courteous towards Harriet, and warmed visibly to Phoebe when she tried out her rusty German phrases on them. But she couldn’t persuade them
that it would be all right to bring their wives here and no one wanted to force that.

They seemed less nervous with Joseph than any of the other men and he did his best to make them feel comfortable, inviting them into his home in trios for tea and small cakes.

It was his sons who had the most success in breaking the barrier between the internees and the men running Greyladies. The two boys treated the newcomers as friends, stopping to chat to them in the gardens, asking questions, persuading them to throw and catch balls. By association with her charges, Miss Bowers too became less frightening.

Soon Jody and Mal were sprinkling their conversation with German words and phrases, and teaching them to anyone who would listen.

Christmas was very quiet. People had stopped expecting the war to be over quickly and had begun to feel the pain of losses.

The first young man from the village had died in France, a cousin of Jody’s friend Tim Peacock. Only twenty years old.

On a cold day in the middle of January, Joseph was in the new house, enjoying a quiet chat with two of the men about Vienna, which he’d read about and longed to visit, when Harriet came to find him, looking solemn.

‘Do you have a moment, Joseph?’

‘Of course.’ To his surprise she led the way back to the old house, taking him into their bedroom, which was on the ground floor next to the living area.

‘It’s bad news, I’m afraid, darling.’ She held out a black-edged envelope.

He didn’t take it from her straight away, didn’t even want to touch it. ‘Dear God, who can it be this time? Please, Harriet, will you open it? I don’t think I can bear to.’

She did so, reading it rapidly, then turned to him, her eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s Richard. Your mother says she was told he died in an attack on the farmhouse where he and several of his men were billeted.’

Joseph didn’t move. He closed his eyes and stood fighting for control. But he didn’t find it. With an inarticulate cry, he turned to his wife and let her take him in her arms as he began to sob. It was a long time before he calmed down.

She could think of nothing to say or do to comfort him. Two brothers dead. Two! And both in the first year of the war. The months felt to be passing slowly, but the deaths were mounting up quickly – and the injuries people had to cope with, too. So many families destroyed already by the deaths from this war, so many young men’s lives as permanently damaged as their bodies, even though they were the ‘lucky’ ones, still alive.

‘I must go to Mother,’ he said eventually. ‘Will you come with me?’

‘Of course. I’ll go and ask Miss Bowers if she can look after the boys.’

He stood for a moment, head bowed, then said quietly, ‘No. I think they should come.’

She stared at him in shock, immediately understanding his reason. ‘Because Jody may inherit it one day? Yes, of course. I hadn’t thought ahead to how Selwyn’s … preferences might affect us.’

He had told Harriet about the likely reason for Selwyn’s dislike of women, so didn’t need to elaborate. ‘That probably
makes me the eventual heir – or if I die before Selwyn, young Jody.’

‘Perhaps Selwyn will make an effort to provide an heir once the war is over.’

Joseph took her hand. ‘I think he expects to die in the fighting and I don’t think he cares. He’s not been happy for a long time, not since he started growing into manhood. At least
I
never thought he was happy. I did a lot of watching people while I was confined to a wheelchair and I always thought he only pretended to be in high spirits. Sometimes he looked downright puzzled, as if he couldn’t understand life.’

‘Surely, if he doesn’t have children, he’ll leave Dalton House to you? You
are
his brother, after all.’ That was why, she realised suddenly. Why she was being prepared to leave Greyladies quite quickly. Because Joseph was going to inherit. She didn’t say anything about her presentiment because he was still struggling with his grief for Richard.

But she knew. Oh, she knew with a certainty that surprised her that they would have to leave Greyladies, and before too long.

That was why Phoebe was here already, in order to take over.

Harriet didn’t want to leave Greyladies. She didn’t. But what choice did she have? Much of life was decided by chance, she always felt. Chance had brought her here and chance was going to take her away again. Chance and a terrible war.

She looked round, feeling anguish sear through her. She loved every stone of the old place.

‘Are you all right?’ Joseph asked suddenly.

She pulled her wandering thoughts together. It was no effort to smile at him. Chance had also given her Joseph, who was a wonderful husband, and two sons to be proud of. She had no right to complain if she didn’t get everything she wanted from life. At least she’d had Greyladies for a decade.

‘Yes. I’m fine, my darling. Just thinking.’ She wouldn’t tell him yet. Sufficient unto the day …

She forced herself to speak briskly. ‘We’d better see if we can hire that motor car again, and get the boys’ things packed. We should set off as soon as it can be arranged. Your mother will be on her own. She’ll need us.’

‘Let’s tell the boys first. They’ll be excited more than sad, I should think. They didn’t really know Richard, so we can’t expect them to grieve.’

Before they left for Dalton House, Harriet went to look for Phoebe. It was time to tell her. She went to find the new matron first, a very different person from the old one, unobtrusive and kind to people. Permission was given for Phoebe to go for a walk in the gardens with her ‘on urgent family business’.

‘Have you realised why you’re here, Phoebe?’

‘I thought … maybe to help you with what you do for other women. Because I’m a Latimer. It’s such wonderful, worthwhile work.’

‘You will be helping, but you’re here mainly because quite soon you’ll become the next owner of Greyladies.’

Phoebe stopped walking to gape at her. ‘
Me?
But you’re the owner. You’re not … ill, are you?’

‘No. But this house is a trust and doesn’t really belong
to anyone, not even the Latimers who nominally inherit it. Some chatelaines stay here their whole lives; others just for a few years.’

‘I didn’t realise that.’

‘I knew I’d be leaving when the War Office took over the house. I lay awake one night, knowing somehow that I’d never go back to live in the front part, that I had other things to do with my life. Important things. It’s now my turn to help a new Latimer lady settle in.’

It was a moment before Phoebe replied. ‘Why did you choose me?’

‘I didn’t. I don’t understand how it works, but Anne Latimer seems to appear at crucial times and … well, the new ladies turn up in one way or another. It’s part of the strangeness of Greyladies.’

Phoebe was looking startled.

‘Amazing, isn’t it?’

‘Shall
I
be staying here permanently, or will my stay be only temporary?’

‘I don’t know. You’ll sense it if you’re going to leave. I don’t know when exactly Joseph and I will be going. Not quite yet. It’ll be good to have time to show you the house’s secrets.’

Another thought slid into her mind, another one which upset her. ‘Miss Bowers will be staying here too, I think. She won’t want to leave the village. She’s so much a part of Challerton and Greyladies that she wouldn’t be happy elsewhere. She’ll be able to help you once I’ve gone.’

Phoebe’s hand was gentle on her arm. ‘That’s very sad for you.’

‘In some ways. But there isn’t only me to consider. It will
be wonderful for Joseph to have his own purpose in life. He’s followed my path for long enough. Now he can follow his own.’

‘He’s such a wise person.’

‘Yes. He is. I think he’ll make a good employer and landowner.’ She waited but there were no more questions at present, though she was sure Phoebe would have plenty of things to ask after it all sank in. ‘I’d better go now. Our motor car will be arriving soon. The boys are very excited at the thought of seeing their father’s old home.’

Phoebe’s expression softened. ‘They’re fine lads.’

Harriet wondered suddenly what Corin would think of Phoebe’s new role. She had seen the way he looked at her, the way she looked at him. Would he give up his own life to marry someone tied to Greyladies as Joseph had? She’d heard him talk about his home in Lancashire very fondly, and as he was an only child, he would expect to inherit it and take over the reins.

If he survived the war. That was a phrase people were beginning to toss into conversations now.

She sighed. Life pushed people into some difficult decisions at times. She couldn’t do any more than help her successor settle in here. Phoebe and Corin would have to sort out their own lives.

When Joseph and his family arrived, they found Dalton House and its staff decked in black, with black crêpe bows on the doors. Curtains were half drawn and they were shown into a dim hall, which made the boys shrink closer to their parents.

‘Mrs Dalton is in the drawing room, Mr Joseph,’ the
elderly maid whispered. ‘She’s hardly eaten a thing since we heard. I’m so glad you’ve come.’

‘And I’m glad you were here to help her, Enid.’

‘Where else would I be, sir?
I’m
not a flibbertigibbet as wants to dash off to London.’ She looked towards Harriet as if unsure how to greet someone who had once been a maid here herself.

‘I think you met my wife some time ago, didn’t you?’

The maid spoke stiffly. ‘Yes, sir. Pleased to see you again, Mrs Dalton.’

‘She’s Mrs Latimer,’ Joseph corrected gently, ‘and I’m either Mr Joseph or Mr Latimer. That’s not going to change.’

Harriet was grateful for his instant support of her difficult role here. ‘I’m pleased to see you again, Enid. These two terrors are Jody – short for Joseph like his father – and Mal, short for Malcolm.

Both boys murmured, ‘How do you do?’

The maid gave them a more genuine smile. ‘Eh, they’ve got their father’s eyes and hair, haven’t they?’ Then she recalled her place. ‘I’ll tell madam you’ve arrived.’

But Mrs Dalton had heard the car and appeared in the hall in person. ‘Joseph! Oh, my dear boy, I’m so relieved you’ve come. And Harriet, too.’ Then she noticed the two lads and dabbed at her eyes. ‘At least the next generation is secure, as secure as anything can be in this vale of sorrow.’

Joseph went across and put his arm round her shoulders to lead her back into the drawing room.

‘Is there a vale of sorrow here?’ Jody asked in what he considered a whisper, but which was loud enough to echo round the entrance hall.

‘No, dear. Your grandmother means the sorrow she feels
because your Uncle Richard was killed in the war. Remember, we talked about that?’

‘Yes, Mother. I won’t forget to be kind to her, even if she kisses me.’

‘Good boy. We’d better go and join them now.’

But Mrs Dalton was weeping in her son’s arms, so Harriet brought the boys back into the hall and took them through into the kitchen instead.

When she opened the door, the two women there turned to stare at her in a rather hostile manner.

‘Your mistress is upset and I didn’t think it right for the boys to be present while we try to comfort her. Do you think these two terrors could sit quietly in the kitchen and perhaps have something to eat? I spent a lot of happy hours in here as a young maid, and it still smells as good.’

Cook thawed slightly at this remark. ‘Of course they can stay. I daresay you two boys like biscuits, don’t you?’

‘Yes, please,’ they chorused, brightening up at once.

Harriet caught Cook’s gaze. ‘Thank you.’ She went to join Joseph and his mother, quite sure the boys would charm the two middle-aged women. They always did.

Selwyn was in France and couldn’t get back for the funeral, so Joseph was the only family member there to support his mother.

Thomas’s widow had sent her apologies. She was nursing a heavy cold and didn’t think it prudent to travel.

‘I think she can’t face another funeral here,’ Mrs Dalton told Harriet. ‘And who can blame her? I’m grateful that you came and brought the boys. Their cheerfulness makes me feel better, as if life is continuing, with better times ahead.’

So it was a small group of family members who attended the church, and an equally small group of neighbours who joined them, mostly people of Mrs Dalton’s age, who counted her among their friends and were there to support her. Richard certainly hadn’t been popular.

‘What shall you do now, Mother?’ Joseph asked when the visitors had gone. ‘Does Selwyn want you to look after the house for him?’

‘No. He wants me to close it down, says he can’t afford to pay the servants.’

He was startled. ‘Are things that bad with him?’

‘He said he’d stopped gambling, but I gather there are still old debts to pay. I shall go back to my flat in London.’

‘What about the servants?’

‘I can’t take them.’

He looked at Harriet. ‘What if I paid them board wages and we let them stay on here?’

‘I think that’s a good idea. And what if we sent one or two of the women in need to join them here while they’re recovering? Especially ones with children. That would mean Cook and Enid are contributing to the war effort.’