Yew Tree Gardens (8 page)

‘Walter is like an honorary uncle and I’m not going to hide that any longer,’ Gil explained. ‘He’s known me since I was a child and he’s far more than a servant to me. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t know what I’d have done during the past few months.’

‘You’re lucky to have a friend like that.’

‘Yes, I am.’

When they were all seated, the lawyer asked, ‘And how are you settling in? I’m sure Mrs Tibbins has made you comfortable.’

Gil explained the changed situation and saw the shock on the other man’s face.

‘I can’t believe this has happened in a village like Pypard West. The people here have always seemed so friendly.’

‘It all seems to be connected to a Mr Duncan Chapman.’

‘
What?
’

‘You know him, obviously.’

‘Yes.’

‘I gather he’s a distant relative of Miss Bennerden.’

‘
He
says he is, and he certainly knows about her mother’s family, more than she knew herself. However,
I
haven’t been able to trace the connection and I have tried, believe me.’

Another pause, as the lawyer bit his lip, seeming uncertain whether to continue or not. ‘And …?’ Gil prompted.

‘She took his word for that at first and treated him like a nephew, but she lived to regret it.’

‘Oh?’ Gil waited.

‘This must go no further, because I have no proof, but I fear he stole items from this house, presumably because he was short of money. She wouldn’t have him prosecuted, though she refused to see him after that. Earlier on, he’d tried to persuade her to let him help her with her money, though what sort of financial skill a penniless man has to offer, I cannot think. I was honoured that she refused his help and continued to place her trust in me.’

Gil didn’t like the sound of all this.

Mr Mortlake sighed. ‘She was a dear lady, the kindest imaginable. Over the years, she was cheated once or twice because if there was doubt, she preferred to trust people. And I must admit that more often than not, her trust worked miracles and brought out the best in people. In the case of
Duncan Chapman, it didn’t and that upset her greatly.’

‘I wish I’d known her.’

‘I think she’d have been pleased with you, Mr Rycroft.’

He was a bit surprised at this compliment. ‘How can you tell? You don’t know me.’

‘I pride myself on my ability to judge people, and have rarely been wrong. Besides, from what you’ve told me, you’ve already started helping others less fortunate than yourself. She would have approved of the way you’re treating your servants.’

Gil shrugged and changed the subject, embarrassed by the unaccustomed praise. ‘Well, I’ve certainly had no experience in dealing with money, so I hope you’ll continue to act as my lawyer and help me with the financial side of things, as you did her.’

‘I’d be honoured to do so, Mr Rycroft.’

‘Did she leave Chapman anything?’

‘No. She cut him out of her will completely and left a letter with me in case he tried to go to court over it.’

Walter cleared his throat and when they looked at him said, ‘He can’t be short of money now, not if he’s taken on three new servants.’

‘That puzzles me, I must admit. The fellow’s been living from hand to mouth for a while and still has debts that haven’t been cleared.’ Mortlake shook his head. ‘Ah well, he’s lost out now, so we’ll forget about him.’

It would be rather difficult to forget about a man who lived in the same village and who had already set people against you, Gil thought. But that was his business, not his lawyer’s.

Mr Mortlake took out some papers. ‘Let us turn to a
happier subject: the bequests. There are quite a few smaller legacies. I have the list here. Miss Bennerden wished you to see these people, Mr Rycroft, and tell them of their good fortune in person, rather than me sending them a letter. Most of them live in the village or nearby. She thought it would be a good way for you to meet people in the neighbourhood.’

He took out some keys. ‘There is a safe place in the house, where Miss Alice kept her more valuable items, silverware and one or two pieces of jewellery. Let me show it to you.’

He led the way down to the wine cellar, which had a locked door to one side. Beyond the door were more bottles of wine and two casks, labelled ‘Port’ and ‘Sherry’ respectively. He moved the cask of sherry forward and it rolled easily, together with what at first appeared to be a solid section of wall but then opened to reveal a recess behind it, about five foot high, with shelves and double doors.

When the doors were opened, they revealed bundles wrapped in green baize and boxes of various sizes, all fairly small.

‘I’ll leave you to go through these at your leisure,’ Mr Mortlake said. ‘I just wanted to make sure you knew how to open the secure cupboard. I’ve included a complete list of the contents in the papers I shall leave with you.’

He showed them how to close the cupboard by treading on a spring which sent the cask and wooden ‘wall’ behind it rolling back into place. ‘A very simple device, but effective, installed by the first owner. Miss Bennerden didn’t like to leave all her valuables in the bank because sometimes she’d enjoy using them. Every now and then she’d invite people to dinner and bring some of these things out, including her
mother’s jewellery, which I presume you’ll give to your wife one day.’

Gil couldn’t imagine himself marrying, but didn’t spoil the moment by saying so.

When the lawyer had left, Gil beamed at Walter. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’

‘It is, lad. It is. See that you deserve it all.’

‘Don’t give in to this, you mean?’ He indicated his arm with a grimace. ‘I can’t promise not to fret now and then. It’s been such a big change. As to me marrying, I doubt any woman will want a man with this.’

‘You have other attributes that will more than make up for that.’

‘The money, you mean? I don’t want a wife who’s marrying me for my money, thank you very much.’

‘You’re still a good-looking young man. People will like you for yourself.’

Gil grimaced. ‘I shall stay single, Walter. I’ve decided on that.’

He didn’t challenge the disbelieving expression on the other man’s face or tell him the main reason why. Since the accident Gil hadn’t felt the need for a woman, something he’d experienced regularly before. He very much feared he was now unable to father a child.

But he wasn’t going to tell anyone about that, not even a doctor. A man had his pride.

‘You ought to write to your father,’ Walter told Gil. ‘He’ll be upset that you didn’t tell him exactly where you were going and why. Don’t make it worse.’

‘I suppose I’ll have to let him know my address. I need my clothes and things sending. But he’ll come haring down to tell me what to do, you know he will.’

‘And he won’t be able to make you do it, will he? So you can afford to be kind to him.’

‘
Me?
Kind to
him
?’

‘Yes, lad. He doesn’t know how to change his ways, but you do.’

Which left Gil thoughtful.

And of course, his father turned up two days later, without warning, driven there in a motor car, bringing some of Gil’s things. The first anyone knew about the visit was when Lizzie answered the door and was scolded for not inviting Mr and Mrs Rycroft straight in.

Gil wasn’t having the girl treated like that, not after the
hard work she’d been putting in so cheerfully. He hurried out into the hall. ‘Ah, Mother. Father. You should have let us know you were coming. And how is Lizzie supposed to know who you are when she’s never met you, Father?’

As he went to kiss his mother’s cheek, he winked at Lizzie, who flashed him a grateful look as she took his father’s coat and hat, then waited for Gil to help his mother out of her wrap. She was wearing a very fashionable tailor-made costume in a soft grey, with a straight, narrow skirt just clear of the ground. On her head she wore a silk-covered toque, decorated with a big bow of dark-blue ribbon, rather than one of the huge hats decorated with flowers that she usually favoured. Round her neck was a long scarf, which she handed to Gil. She couldn’t have needed the scarf to keep her hat on because the car was a Daimler with enclosed seating for the passengers.

He had intended to take his parents into the sitting room for a chat before they did the inevitable tour of the house, but his father started walking up and down the hall, throwing open the doors without waiting for an invitation to explore.

‘Come and sit down before you look round, Father,’ he said at last, hoping he sounded firm.

His mother linked her arm in his and murmured, ‘If we go into your drawing room, he’ll soon follow.’

‘I’d rather look round first and see what we’ve got,’ his father said.

We?
Did his father think this house was family property? As Gil opened his mouth to protest that assumption, his mother intervened.

‘I’m longing for a cup of tea, Bertram dear.’

‘I’m sure Lizzie will be bringing us a tea tray.’ Gil gave in to his mother’s tugging on his arm, hoping Walter
would check that the tray was perfectly presented.

They went into the sitting room, and to his relief, his father did follow them a few seconds later, muttering something about this being an old-fashioned sort of place.

Gil made sure his mother was comfortably seated, took his usual chair and indicated the other to his father.

‘How much did the old lady leave you, Gil?’

‘Enough to live on comfortably.’

‘How much?’

‘Bertram, dear, it’s not your business.’

‘He’s my son, ain’t he? He doesn’t know much about money and he’s going to need my help to look after it. So of course I need to know what we’re dealing with.’

His father always barked orders. Gil hadn’t realised how much he hated that till he was free to run his own house peacefully, without anyone shouting at others who didn’t dare shout back, like servants and youngest sons. He was about to refuse to give details, when his mother spoke in a much sharper voice.

‘Bertram!’

His father harrumphed and fell quiet.

Gil hid a smile. Occasionally his mother spoke in that firm tone, without adding ‘dear’, and it generally stopped whatever his father was doing. Mostly, though, she coaxed his father into doing as she wanted before he became too outrageous. Gil had never thought about it much, just accepted that. Now, he watched her tactics with more interest.

‘I think the exact details of my legacy are my own business,’ he said at last when he saw her looking at him as if to tell him to speak. ‘And I’m sure I’ll be quite capable of managing it, with the lawyer’s help.’

‘As the person who’s been supporting you for twenty-six
years, I still think I’ve a right to know,’ his father snapped.

‘If you feel I need to repay you, then send an account to my lawyer.’

It was his turn to be gently reprimanded by his mother.

‘Gil, dear.’

He took a deep breath and said more quietly, ‘I’ll give you a general idea, Father, but the details are private. From what the lawyer says, after paying the expenses of running this house, I’ll have about four times what my old allowance was, which will be more than enough to manage on in the country. I will not, of course, need an allowance from you now, though I’m grateful for your support over the years.’

His mother nodded approvingly at this more conciliatory speech.

His father let out a low whistle. ‘As much as that, eh?’

‘Yes. Miss Bennerden was very generous.’

There was a knock on the door and Lizzie came in, carrying a tray with a plate of scones, butter and jam on it, followed by Walter with a tray of tea-making equipment. He gave the maid an encouraging nod, as if reminding her to speak.

‘Cook’s sorry she can’t offer you better than this, Mrs Rycroft, but our other cook left without giving notice. Mrs Hilton has only just taken over the kitchen, so she’s not had time to settle in yet.’

‘I’m grateful for a cup of tea and the scones look very light.’

‘They’re delicious, ma’am.’ Lizzie bobbed an awkward curtsey and left.

Mrs Rycroft smiled at Walter. ‘I’m glad you’re still with my son.’

‘Walter has become my … um, general factotum,’ Gil said. 

‘I need to tender my resignation to you, Mr Rycroft, if you don’t mind,’ Walter put in diplomatically.

‘Yes. Yes, of course. Let’s consider that done immediately. I’ll send you the money for the wages you’re owed. Booth will take over my stables. You trained him well. Gil will need an older head to advise him here, I’m sure.’

Walter nodded and left the room.

It felt like another hurdle overcome to Gil.

More silence as his father took a cup of tea from his wife, sipping appreciatively. ‘Well, the new cook can make a good cup of tea. I’ll say that for her.’

‘Yes, delicious. And I’m glad to see you looking more like your old self than you have since the accident, Gil dear,’ his mother said. ‘I’m so pleased for you about this inheritance.’

His father handed her his cup for a refill. ‘How much do you think the house is worth?’

‘I don’t know and it doesn’t matter, because I don’t intend to sell it.’

‘You can’t hide away, boy. You need to come out and face the world again.’

‘I’m not planning to hide away, but this is a lovely house in a beautiful part of England. I shall enjoy living here.’

‘But it’s miles away from anywhere. You’ll surely want to live nearer your family?’

He didn’t, had never got on particularly well with his brothers, but he wasn’t cruel enough to say so to his parents. ‘The truth is, I fell in love with Oakdene, so I’m planning to modernise it gradually and settle down here permanently.’

His father leant back, baffled. ‘Well, that’ll certainly keep you occupied, given the state it’s in. But I still think you should live nearer home.’ 

‘Bertram dear, this
is
Gil’s home now.’ His mother set down her empty cup. ‘I’d love a tour of your house now, if that’s all right with you, dear.’

‘Of course. And if you have any suggestions for refurbishing it, I’ll be happy to listen. I don’t intend to spend much money at first, though. I need to see how I go on.’

Was this him talking? he wondered. He sounded so serious, unlike his former self. He sounded, he realised suddenly, grown-up. And about time too.

He listened to his mother’s suggestions, surprised at how practical some of them were, and interrupted her to fetch a notebook.

‘Women always know best about household details,’ his father said complacently.

‘I’ll come down to stay for a few days next time your father’s away and help you plan the furnishings,’ she said. ‘If you’ll have me.’

‘I’d love to have you and shall welcome your help with the house.’

Afterwards the two men walked round the outside of the house, and here Gil didn’t mind listening to his father’s advice.

‘It looks pretty sound, structurally. What happened to that window? You’ll have to repaint the frame.’

‘It got broken.’ Gil hurried along to the side door.

‘This is rotten and will need replacing,’ his father said. ‘Not worth repainting.’

The poor state of the door distracted him from asking Gil how the window had got broken, thank goodness.

‘You’ll have to keep an eye on this side of the house. Gets all the weather, I should think. The woodwork will need painting more often.’ 

Gil had never thought about that sort of thing and looked at the house with new eyes. He felt ashamed of how focused he’d been on horses and hunting, how he’d never earned any money. His parents had pretended he was going to set up a stud and breed sound riding horses for children, but he hadn’t even tried to get started.

After listening to the horse he’d killed giving out muffled groans as it struggled to cope with the pain – horses were such stoic animals – Gil hadn’t felt he deserved to ride one again. Which was foolish. He’d need a couple of horses, at least one of them suitable for a trap. Or maybe … maybe he really would buy a motor car. He could look into that.

Excitement filled him. Something different. He’d learn about cars. He wondered if he’d be able to drive one. It might be fun.

When he and his father went back inside the house, Walter came in to offer a light luncheon. ‘Not what you’re used to, Mrs Rycroft, but Mrs Hilton can provide sandwiches and an apple pie with cream. Our own apples, too.’

‘We shall be delighted to take luncheon here.’

When the car came to collect them at three o’clock, Gil breathed a sigh of relief. As he handed his mother into it, she whispered, ‘Not too bad, eh? I’ll send the rest of your things down.’

‘You’re smiling,’ Walter said as Gil came back into the house.

‘It went better than I expected with Father, thanks mainly to Mother. I hadn’t really noticed before how much she controls him.’

‘She’s a very clever woman, your mother is. We servants have always admired her. Yet she never raises her voice, not
to anyone. But you held firm against your father today, too. I was pleased to see that.’

‘It gives you heart, having a house of your own. We’ll have to make a start on the job of telling people about the legacies tomorrow. I was going to do that today.’

‘I thought we were going into London to see about exercises and special footwear tomorrow?’

‘Oh, yes. The day after, then.’ Gil smiled at his friend. ‘It’s good to have plenty to do. I’m not the sort to sit around and read books.’

Walter found it necessary to blow his nose vigorously at that comment. He didn’t say anything, but he patted his lad’s hand a couple of times.

Going up to London wasn’t easy without a vehicle to drive them to Wootton Bassett Station. Lizzie said the landlord of the Gaudy Pheasant had a gig he hired out, so Walter went into the village to see if it was free.

He came back furious, because the landlord said it’d been hired already. ‘I asked him how about tomorrow and he said it was hired then, as well. I asked about every day this week, same answer.’

‘Giving us the cold shoulder, eh? Did you get any hint about why?’

‘No. When I asked outright, he said he was a busy man and hadn’t time to chat.’

‘Let’s ask Lizzie and Mrs Hilton if they know of any other vehicle for hire,’ Walter said. ‘Perhaps in Bassett – that’s what the locals call Wootton Bassett.’

Gil looked at his leg ruefully. ‘I can’t walk into Bassett, and I doubt you can, either.’

Walter shot a quick glance sideways.

‘I’ve noticed that you’re not as spry as you used to be, and you get breathless if you have to do too much.’

Silence, then, ‘Well, I am seventy-six, you know.’

Gil was surprised. ‘I didn’t realise you were that old.’

Walter shrugged. ‘You don’t tell an employer how old you are, in case he sacks you.’

‘Father would never have sacked you.’

‘He might have found me easier duties, and I didn’t want the humiliation of that in a place where I’d run the stables.’

‘Well, your age makes no difference to your job here. Let’s ask Cook if she knows anyone with a vehicle to hire.’

Mrs Hilton said bluntly, ‘No one will hire to you, sir. They’re afraid of the others in the village refusing to deal with them if they do.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Chapman. Most of them will come round once they get to know you, but it’ll take time.’

Lizzie cleared her throat. ‘We could send my brother Don into Wootton Bassett, sir. It’s only about three miles. He can walk it easy. And no one will dare pick on him for going, because he’s a big lad for his age and knows how to look after himself.’

‘I’ll pay him for his trouble. Five shillings, do you think?’

She went bright pink. ‘Oooh, thank you, sir. That’ll be lovely. Mam will be that pleased! He hasn’t been able to find steady work, let alone get into a trade, which she was hoping for till she found out you have to pay for that.’

Young Don was happy to walk three miles to the nearest town for that generous payment and set off at once.

‘We need to buy a horse and trap straight away,’ Walter
said. ‘I’ll start looking round for one as soon as we get back. In the meantime we can perhaps hire one by the week from a livery stable in Bassett.’

After the freshness of the Wiltshire countryside, London seemed dirtier and busier than ever. They took a motor cab to the shoemaker Mr Seaborne had recommended and Gil watched in fascination as the driver manipulated the gear lever and brakes.

The shoemaker studied Gil’s foot and leg with calm interest and made him walk up and down, first in his shoes, then barefoot.