The Widow of Larkspur Inn (7 page)

She grabbed hold of the doorknob and seemed poised to slam it, but then turned again to direct a parting gibe.

“And those cakes were practically tasteless, by the way!”

The door thundered shut, rattling teacups against their saucers. Her face burning from the insults Mrs. Pankhurst had flung at her, Julia stared at the silent butler for one long moment. “Thank you, Jensen,” she said when her heart had finally stopped pounding against her ribcage.

He acknowledged her gratitude with a nod. “Is madam all right?”

Julia glanced back at the closed door, and a shudder caught her. “I’m fine. I think. But she was quite odious, wasn’t she?”

“Quite so, madam.”

“I suppose I should have accepted her offer to buy my gowns, though. Every little bit
would
help.”

Jensen shook his head. “There are legions of used clothing shops on Petticoat Lane if madam wishes to sell some garments, and she would no doubt fetch a better price than what Mrs. Pankhurst would offer. But it shouldn’t be necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“May I speak plainly, Mrs. Hollis?”

“Of course,” Julia answered, still not quite sure what to make of this new side of Jensen she was seeing. Motioning toward the nearest adjacent chair, she said, “Please … have a seat.”

The butler stared at her as if she’d asked him to perform a ballet upon the tea table. “That would not be proper, madam.”

“And was it proper for you to dismiss Mrs. Pankhurst?” Julia couldn’t resist asking with an innocent lift of her brows.

Jensen’s face flushed, but nevertheless he lowered himself gingerly onto the edge of the chair cushion, as if it were a bed of nails. Clearing his throat, he said, “I am quite fond of reading periodicals, Mrs. Hollis. And I have noticed an interesting trend of late.”

He stretched out to hand her a folded piece of paper from his right coat pocket. “From the February issue of
The New Monthly Magazine
,” he explained as she opened up the paper.

Julia’s eyes quickly scanned the printed page—it looked to be a continuation of an article having to do with bird-watching on the Isle of Saint Agnes.

“The top right corner,” Jensen said before Julia could raise a question.

She looked—it was an advertisement listing all of the amenities of a particular lodging house at Weymouth Beach. “That’s very nice,” Julia told him, lowering the page. “But why are you showing it to me?”

“I often see advertisements such as this. But they’re almost exclusively for the tourist cities, such as Weymouth and Brighton, and then, primarily seasonal rentals. Why doesn’t madam consider turning her coaching inn into a lodging house?”

“A lodging house?” Julia shook her head. “But from what I’ve been told, Gresham is a dairying village—not a tourist city by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Exactly. I’ve been to Weymouth, Mrs. Hollis, on holiday with my brother’s family. And while it was a pleasant diversion, I would not care to take up permanent residence in such a transient atmosphere.”

The idea of staid, somber Jensen splashing in the waves flitted across Julia’s imagination, and she found herself struggling to keep back a smile. Jensen seemed to read her mind, for he lifted his chin a fraction.

“I do not care for sand in my shoes and clothing, Mrs. Hollis. I allowed the younger ones to take on the beach.”

Suitably chastened, Julia nodded.

“One would have to compose the advertisements with
permanent
lodgers in mind,” the butler continued, as if no break in the flow of conversation had occurred.

“But who would want to take up permanent residence at a lodging house? Oh, I know there are hundreds in London, but in a dairy village?”

“People of advanced age, Mrs. Hollis, for the most part. Those weary of living in congested, noisy cities, but who do not care to take on the responsibilities of a house and servants in the country. Those who are loathe to be dependent upon their families but are too well off for the almshouses. As one ages, one is willing to pay a premium for peace. And Gresham is a pleasant place, Mrs. Hollis. Green and quaint.”

“You mean … you’ve been there?”

“I have.” His expression became grim. “I served as Dr. Hollis’s valet when he visited there two years ago. Madam was in Brighton with the children.”

“But he said he had surgeries to perform. Why did he go to Gresham?”

Taking a deep breath, the butler explained that his master had wanted to inspect the
Larkspur Inn
before offering it as payment for some of his debts. “He was concerned that the bankers would take advantage of his desperation and decline to offer the full value of the inn. As it turned out, the bank declined any interest whatsoever.”

And so he sent us off on holiday beforehand so I wouldn’t find out about his debts
, Julia thought. What a wretched secret life her husband had led! But she reminded herself abruptly that, with her family’s future at stake, this was not the time to brood over Philip’s painful betrayal.

“This coaching inn,” she asked Jensen, “what kind of shape is it in?”

“It is structurally sound, in spite of its two-hundred years. Ethan Banning added water closets and lavatories to each floor only a year before his passing away. There are cupboards of linens and cookery too … almost everything needed to set up housekeeping.”

Julia mulled over Jensen’s suggestion. To be able to stay at home with the children would be the most wonderful blessing imaginable. But what did she know about managing a lodging house … or any other business? She had never even managed her own household.

“It sounds so … risky,” she finally said, “and with the children’s livelihood at stake, I don’t know if I dare.”

“And what would madam be risking?” Jensen pressed. “The price of some advertisements? You already own the building and furnishings. Put them to good use.”

“But I’ve never tried to manage a business before.”

“No one was ever
born
having managed a business, Mrs. Hollis. Madam could learn.”

I could learn,
she echoed silently, but then remembered the dismal reality of their poverty. She shook her head and told him in a flat voice, “I shall have to find a position as soon as possible, Jensen, or we’ll starve. Fiona will be with us, but she cannot possibly transform the inn into a lodging house by herself. Not with it having sat idle for eight years.”

Without a word, Jensen shifted to his right so that he could take something from his left pocket. He stood briefly to give her another paper, then resumed his chair. “Another advertisement?” Julia asked as she unfolded the paper, but then stared at a bank cheque written for one hundred pounds. She looked at the neatly scripted signature at the bottom—
Lawford Jensen—
and thought, absurdly, considering the circumstances,
I never even considered that he had any other name but “Jensen.”

“I cannot accept this,” she said, holding the cheque out toward him. “But you’ll never know how much it means to me that you would offer it.”

As he sat there before her, the butler’s features settled into their usual calm. “Then consider it a loan, Mrs. Hollis. It was a legacy bequeathed to me by Mr. George Hollis, Dr. Hollis’s uncle—I was his butler for some years before Dr. Hollis moved into this house. I would suggest madam use it to bring the six guest chambers up to a standard that lodgers of means will expect. Wallpapering and such. And when madam’s establishment has been operating profitably for some time, I will look forward to being repaid.”

She didn’t know what to think. As casual as Jensen was about the money, it was likely his security for the years when he could no longer perform his duties. What if she failed? But then the children’s faces came to her mind.
You can’t even think about failure,
she told herself. To Jensen, she said, “You’re
that
certain I can do this?”

“I am, Mrs. Hollis.”

“And people will want to live there?”

“I would not be investing a hundred pounds if I did not think so.”

For the first time in at least a decade, Julia found herself smiling at the butler. And for the first time ever, he smiled back. “Why are you doing this for me?” she asked.

Jensen’s brown eyes took on a suspicious liquid sheen. He focused them at something just over her shoulder for a second, then back at her. “I was aware that Dr. Hollis was throwing away money at the card tables, Mrs. Hollis. But
never
did I imagine that things would come to this. He commanded such imposing wages from the hospital.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault, Jensen.”

“But perhaps if I had warned you …”

Now the smile that Julia gave him was a bleak one. “I would have approached my husband about it, yes, and he would have assured me that you were overreacting.” She could picture them together now, Philip’s taking her chin gently between his fingers and joking about what a worrier his butler was. In the end, they both would have laughed, and then Philip would have changed the subject to some humorous observation he’d made about one of the administrators at Saint Thomas’s.

“And I would have believed him,” she added.

The butler let out a long sigh. “Thank you for being so generous with your assurances, Mrs. Hollis—however ill-deserved on my part.” His face then took on a cautious expression. “If I may be so bold to add, madam, I do not believe Dr. Hollis intended to inflict such hardship on his family. He was as beguiled by the cards as the drunkard is by his gin. That was his great weakness.”

“I know that now,” Julia sighed. “And mine was blindly trusting that all was as it should be.” She looked down at the cheque in her hand again. “Jensen … if this is because you feel you have to atone for anything—”

The butler held up a hand. “I have a tendency to be judgmental where people are concerned, Mrs. Hollis. You were correct in pointing out that I’ve wronged you from the beginning. Perhaps it is atonement I am seeking, but it feels … well, rewarding, to do this for you and the children.”

“Truly … I don’t know what to say.”

“It is not required of you to say anything, Mrs. Hollis. Just put it to good use. And if I may make another suggestion … post the advertisements as soon as possible. Newspapers in the cities would provide the most immediate publication. I can procure a list from the reading library if madam so desires.”

With a nod toward the clock, Jensen made an abrupt change of subject. “Is it not time for the children’s lunch recess?”

“Yes,” Julia said, rising from her chair. The butler immediately got to his feet as well. But instead of leaving the room, Julia took two steps over to Jensen and put her arms around him. He stood there, rigid as a gatepost during the embrace, but when she took a step backward, he looked pleased.

“You have given me and my children new hope for the future, Jensen,” Julia told him. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

“Not at all, madam.”

“And if you would
ever
care to move to Gresham, you’ve a place to live. Always.”

“Very kind of you.” The butler’s eyes took on a sheen again just before he turned toward the door. “I should make certain the collier delivered the correct order.”

Julia smiled at his retreating back. “Yes, you should do that.”

Chapter 5

Julia turned her head to take another look out of the hired coach’s window on her right side. The passing north Shropshire farmland was blanketed by a morning haze, broken occasionally by a dense hedgerow or black-and-white half-timbered farm building. A pleasant odor of damp earth permeated the air. Over the hum of wheels and dull thuds of horses’ hooves against the macadamized road surface, she thought she could hear a faint lowing of cattle, no doubt heading from a barn into the fields.

She settled back into her seat and looked around at her fellow passengers. They could have made the journey from London in one day, but Jensen had advised against it.

“It would be best to arrive in Gresham in the morning,” he’d said. “You will need several hours to ready the house for sleeping. Besides, the children will require rest after seven hours on the train.”

Since leaving the inn at Shrewsbury this morning, the children and Fiona had lapsed into a contemplative silence, no doubt wondering about the life that lay ahead. Julia breathed another prayer of thanks for the way her children seemed to accept moving to a new home. Only Aleda had shed some tears as the day drew closer, but even she began to show some interest as she helped Frances pack her things.

Now Julia’s petition to God was that He would make her capable of running the
Larkspur Inn
. The ambitious plan Jensen had given her would take a great deal of confidence, something of which she found herself woefully lacking.
But you know how to make people feel at home,
an inner voice comforted.
Surely that’s more important than any business experience
.

“Why, I do believe I see a hill in the distance,” Fiona said, staring out of the window on the left side. “Could even be a mountain.”

“We must be nearing Gresham.” An anxious chill ran through Julia at the thought. “That has to be the Anwyl you’re seeing.”