Parthena's Promise (7 page)

“What! Preposterous! There is no suitor and, besides, her father never bothered her with the detail of the will. Why would he? So what challenge could she make? It is highly unlikely that she will announce an engagement under the circumstances. No, I am afraid Miss Parthena Munro has thrown her last tantrum. The paperwork is explicit and Charles has other options to consider. We must move forward with this. Likewise, I have wasted enough time here. I need to return to Kent. Mother will be most anxious that things have been sorted out, and quickly.”

“Indeed,” Charles added. “The girl is irrelevant. Bertram has inherited the estate and we have an agreement. Now I expect the paperwork to be finalised by the end of this month. If it is too big a job for you, Stanton, then I will consult my London lawyers...” he allowed his voice to trail off.

“I think our business is done here. I will see to the paperwork and will be in touch,” Geoffrey Stanton pushed back his chair, scraping it on the floor. “Mr Munro, Mr Tripp, I bid you good day. I too have much to do.” He stood up.

Jerome watched Geoffrey leave, and smiled. Good, they had upset him. He would not like the jibe about him being inferior to the London lawyers. He had fought prejudice all through his studies as his father had made his money through trade. This meant that they may have lost the loyalty of the man. If Jerome went to him now, with care, it could well play into his hand. Bertram had obviously not seen Thena yet, but he was busy painting a very different image of her than Jerome knew to be true. He turned his glass around on the table. What they did next had to be carefully thought out. Bertram was lying. He was hiding the truth from Thena, but he had carefully left a position where there was only her word against his. Had she left without his blessing? The letter she had of introduction to the family, the one he had read as she bathed, said that she was sent by Bertram but it was the only proof she had that he arranged it. Yet, Jerome now realised that in hindsight he could challenge this as the signature upon it comprised only of two letters – it could be said to be a forgery.

Jerome was about to stand up and follow Stanton when he heard Bertram’s voice rise again. “It concerns me that my man could not confirm what had happened to her. I expected a report that would give us surety that the girl could be no more trouble to us. Despite her having no other means to survive that are, shall we say, reputable, she managed to completely disappear, Charles. I tell you, this has been an ill thought-out affair. We should have been bolder,” he said.

“Bertram, good fortune has smiled on you here; do not cast a shadow over it by tainting it with the blood of an innocent. I will not be party to that.”

“But you said to send her away and be done with her,” Bertram snapped out.

“I may have made an offhand comment. You could have sent her to a convent, had her sent overseas to have her education finished, anything. How you chose to interpret my words is down to you, but you have interpreted them badly and the consequences of them will be yours if she emerges as an embarrassment to either of us.” Charles sighed as Bertram protested.

“But…”

“Listen, man, she will have found a way to survive as we all must. You focus on moving the sale through. I will give you another month and then I expect to be able to bring in my men and start work on this backwater to make it pay handsomely.” Charles sounded definite as if he was drawing the conversation to a close. Jerome heard his chair move back also.

“Yes... Yes… Of course! I was just thinking aloud. Everything will be ready. Do you wish to stay at the Hall tonight?” Bertram asked.

“No, I have other business partners to see. I will meet you back here in four weeks to the hour and the day. Have everything ready for me, or I will buy land elsewhere. Progress stops for no man, Bertram!” His words were abruptly snapped out.

“Of course, I fully understand,” Bertram grovelled as the man returned to his coach.

Jerome watched as the vehicle drew away and Munro cursed his so-called business partner. He then headed off in the direction of Leaham Hall, and Jerome could almost wish to be there to see his face when he returned to it. However, he had to re-acquaint himself quickly with an old colleague. Glad that he had never taunted the man about his family’s new money, Jerome stood and walked purposefully over to the offices of Messrs. Blackmore, Hide and Stanton.

They had some catching up to do, rather quickly, and also the possibility of helping each other at the same time. Fate, Jerome again pondered, was indeed a lovely thing. He knocked on the highly polished black door and waited to be announced. One word told him that things were definitely on an upward turn when Mr Geoffrey Stanton stood up as he entered the man’s immaculate office and greeted him with a kindly word, “Welcome!”

Chapter 9

“I am so pleased that you remember me, sir. If you recall, we were in the Inns at the same time…”

Mr Geoffrey Stanton shook Jerome’s hand as if he was genuinely pleased to see him. He took Jerome’s hat and placed it carefully on a stand as the door to the office was closed. “I never forget the face of a friend, or in your case, sir, a friendly face. You were always a gentleman, Mr Fender – Jerome wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jerome replied, slightly embarrassed that he had obviously made a stronger impression on Mr Stanton than Stanton had on him.

“I know I am right, sir. I pride myself on my memory of faces and names.” He smiled.

Jerome nodded. “An excellent memory, sir, and one that will serve you in good stead in our profession.”

“Oh, well, I’ll be honest with you. I have every reason to remember you, since you stopped Giles Baglan from giving me a kicking. I admired you from that moment onwards and I have followed your career with interest. Now that the war is over, we can pursue our chosen paths once more. I served in the 95th, sir. Only a lieutenant, but I did my part.” He held his head high as if he had proved himself able to fight and defend not only himself but his country.

Jerome was momentarily speechless as he had forgotten that he did give Baglan a kicking himself for picking on the new boy. However, Jerome could well understand the impact his intervention had had on the younger Geoffrey’s life. Jerome smiled even more broadly – “one good deed” was the phrase that came to mind. They exchanged rank and anecdotes for a few moments with enthusiasm, and then there was a slight pause in the conversation.

“So tell me, what brings a London barrister all the way to this backwater?” Stanton took his seat again after offering Jerome a glass of sherry from his cabinet.

“Justice, Geoffrey, or lack of it, is why I am here. I am for reform, so that the punishment is more fitting to the crime. Also, those crimes can and should be prevented whenever possible. But first tell me, are you unhappy here?” Jerome saw the pensive look on his colleague’s face turn to curiosity when Jerome tried to wrong-foot him with his last question.

“I too am for reform, but these things take time, especially where laws are concerned, as well you know. No, I am not happy at this precise moment. If I am to be honest, I have not been for some months. I have a wife who expects our first child this coming summer and we have been very happy in this beautiful village until relatively recently. She is a teacher and we have such plans for it.” He then looked down at the papers upon his desk with little enthusiasm.

“Then what has changed?” Jerome asked.

“Nothing as yet, but I fear it will soon enough. A major property on the edge of town is to be sold, an estate that holds the deeds for farms and town properties alike, and this lovely village, I feel, will not be valued by its new owner. But, you catch me at a sensitive time and I really should not be discussing such business with you as it breaks every rule of confidentiality that we value and uphold. However,” he looked up at Jerome and smiled brightly, before adding, “as you were listening so tentatively to my conversation in the coffee house, I presume that you have some interest in the affair.” He raised one eyebrow.

“Ah, Geoffrey, you were always observant. I am glad to see that your mind is as razor sharp as always and that you miss nothing. You will clearly have seen me when you returned here and glanced back. Your assumption is quite correct. The young lady that you were discussing, Miss Munro, did not run away, nor is she reckless, or damaged in reputation in any way. She is safely returned to the home that has been hers to live in since her birth. However, I fear that she has been kept away from the truth of her father’s will and the details of her inheritance. In so doing, her cousin seeks to rid himself of her and take the land. Why this man, Charles Tripp, is so interested in it, I do not know.”

“Nor I, for sure, but I have made enquiries about Mr Charles Tripp and discovered that wherever he buys – property or land – he leaves a factory where houses once stood and they result in the destruction of the small town or village they are linked to. He has done this twice over that I know of. He buys, provides the money, plans, and men to do his work, and moves on to live in his own country idyll and begins searching for his next target; all legal and all sickening if you are living in the path of his ‘progress’. I do not care for him or his London lawyers that he boasts about so much. I apologise if I sound embittered, but there you have it. I do not want to live in London and have not the money to make a name for myself there even if I did have that ambition. So how can I help you?”

“Is Parthena able, in any way, to block Bertram Munro from getting his hands on the estate, legally?”

“Has she not showed you a copy of her father’s will?” Geoffrey asked, and Jerome knew how badly this impressionable, innocent young woman was being duped.

“She has not seen the will and has in fact been told that her father died intestate,” Jerome answered, trying to conceal his anger.

“That is a lie! I left a copy for her with Bertram. I have been unable to speak to her. He insists, as her father used to, that business is for the men in the world and that she should be protected from it.”

“But not from the consequences of the men who would do this, apparently.”

“That is true. The only way she can have any ownership of the land in any sense is if she is married by the end of the month, which is impossible. Then she, or rather her husband, can make a direct claim to the total inheritance. But if she had been told the truth when the will was disclosed to Bertram they would have had six months for her to possibly find a suitor. The one thing that was personally gifted to her along with an allowance of three hundred pounds per annum, so long as the estate exists, is his grandfather clock from the hallway, and this,” he said as he leaned into his drawer and pulled out an envelope. “This is part of the arrangements that are not mentioned in the will itself which Mr Bertram Munro does not know about. You see, it is a letter and key, which was entrusted to me to give to Miss Munro in the event of her twenty-first birthday, if she was not wed and he, Mr Munro senior, had predeceased the date.”

“Do you know what it is for, and when will she be twenty-one?” Jerome asked.

“No, but she will do, I am sure. She was twenty-one last Wednesday, two days after she disappeared.”

“Then you must give it to her, without Bertram’s presence or knowledge.” Jerome sat forward.

“I agree, but you forget she is no longer here and that presents me with a problem and a dilemma. When, if ever, do I tell her cousin about it?” He raised both hands up in despair.

“Mr Bertram Munro lied, she did not run away, neither is she given to fits and tantrums and certainly would not do something as reckless as he suggested. Let me explain what happened, and then we will find a way for you to see her so that you can deliver that envelope to her in person. Perhaps if you could call on her tomorrow at ten? I will make sure she is there and that Mr Bertram Munro is not.” Jerome was enraged, but he should not have been because he had met many an unscrupulous or greedy man, who thought little of the consequences of his actions on the dependant female in their charge.

“How and why would you do this?” Geoffrey Stanton stared at him, intrigued, but he was no man’s fool, so Jerome decided honesty was the best policy.

“Because I believe in justice. I can get the greedy cousin away, but more than this, because I believe I have quite fallen under Miss Munro’s spell and I would see how desperate or daring she actually will be to save her estate, and the village, not to mention her future, from the likes of Mr Bertram Munro and Mr Charles Tripp.

“Then you have my blessing and I will do what I can to aid you. But Tripp is a very powerful man and he could destroy me too, Jerome. I have a family to think about.”

“You need not fear. I will not see you harmed in any way. If all goes through to my plan, we all face a happier future. If Miss Munro turns down my offer, then I will offer you a position in my own firm. You would lose a village, but gain a career. Not perhaps what you wish, but it would secure a future for that growing family of yours.” Jerome stood.

“Very well.” Geoffrey shook his hand. “You are quite a guardian angel to waifs and strays,” he smiled.

“No, Geoffrey, to a few wronged individuals.” Jerome shut off the memories of men’s death screams from his recent past – battlefield blood and gore – and cleared his throat. “Believe me, I am no one’s guardian angel!” He left, trying to bury the demons deep and focus upon his faerie of the night and his current mission to save a village from destruction.

*

Mr Bertram Munro burst into Leaham Hall to be greeted by Mrs Hubbart as she was about to take a warm drink of milk and honey up the stairs to Thena.

“What is the meaning of this, Hubbart? Where are you going with that? You are not to be seen on the main stairs!” he barked his words out before she had the chance to say anything.

“I was taking it, this drink…” she held the tray up as if it was obvious, “…upstairs, sir, for the young mistress,” she added, “… who returned to us today.”

“Who returned? What nonsense do you speak, woman?” He threw his coat down on the table and tossed his hat also, but both he and Mrs Hubbart watched as the hat skidded across the tabletop and fell on the floor at the other side of it.

“Hubbart!” he barked. “Pick that up!” The woman’s hand began to shake as she held on to the tray, conscious that the warmed milk was beginning to spill, but she seemed more distressed by it being spoilt, and was focused upon stilling it. Her lips parted as if she was going to be bold enough to speak out, but if that was the futile act that she was intent on she was to be interrupted and saved from the impact of her vexed retort.

“Cousin, I am so glad that you have returned. I have so much to tell you,” Thena’s voice drifted down from the upper landing.

“Parthena, is that really you?” He stood gazing up as if his world had turned.

“Yes, cousin, who else would it be?” she said as she came down the stairs.

“You… you are here?” He took a step backwards as if he had seen an apparition take form in front of him, as she walked calmly down the last few steps so that she stood before him.

“Well, where else would I go when I find myself unable to make the introduction you had arranged for me?” she laughed.

“But you left intent on making a new life…” He was glancing awkwardly around at Hubbart.

“Of course, with your letter in my bag, but you see, the people had moved on, there was no Major Harrington, wife or sons at the address I was given. I discovered they had moved to Harrogate six months previously. So, I am afraid it was a wasted trip.” She now stood on the bottom step staring straight at him.

He fought to regain his composure. “But that is abominable! You must tell me what awful plight, my dear cousin, has befallen you. We must act quickly to repair your reputation and find somewhere peaceful where you can recover. Why should you take off so, and how you’re returned to us so… how can it be, so safely?”

Thena thought that he was confused. He was digging around trying somehow to give off a sense of her fall to the servant. She was not going to let him.

“I mean, under the circumstances, the thought of what you have been through does not bear consideration.” Bertram was rubbing his forehead with his kerchief.

Thena was aware that Hubbart was listening and that he was skewing the conversation to somehow discredit her reputation.

“Why, nothing has befallen me, Bertram!” she said, her voice deliberately patronising. “Whatever are you thinking? My schooling was partially completed at a convent school in the town,” she said, and remembered what Jerome had taught her, that to weave a convincing lie you merely embellished the truth on which it hung. “I merely asked the mother superior at the abbey for help and she gladly arranged my safe return. I was never in any peril, Bertram. Why, that would have been devastating and I know you only had my best intentions at heart. No, I could not have been better looked after if it had all been planned that way. So you must tell me how things fare here. I understand there are to be changes made.” She glanced around at Hubbart who was looking from one cousin to the other, taking all in.

“We shall not chatter in the hall like servants, Parthena. Come into the morning room and we shall discuss this matter further. This venture of yours may have had some grave implications,” Bertram said, keeping to his chosen theme, then he turned to Mrs Hubbart. “Not a word of this to anyone, Hubbart, you hear!”

“No, sir,” she said, as she made her way down the corridor and back to the servants’ domain.

Parthena walked ahead of him. She heard Bertram bark another order out for them not to be disturbed. He did not understand how a servant could be loyal, because he did not comprehend the meaning of the word, so how could they? Parthena did not like the word “hate” with all its ramifications, but the emotion that she felt towards the insufferable man who had gained position through her father’s death could best be described as hatred. She felt no shame for feeling it as he had lowered her situation to one where she turned in a moment of weakness to theft.

Calmly Thena sat in the window seat and looked over to the marble framed fireplace. A memory of it adorned with leaves for the Christmas season made her swallow back her nostalgia for a world and a time she could never recapture. Even if this home, by some miracle, became hers again, it would have to move forward. She would not live in a mausoleum dedicated to the past.