The Tale of Cuckoo Brow Wood (33 page)

“I shouldn’t think so. It was Diana’s idea.” The major stopped, his mouth painfully twisted. “That is to say, Irene, Mrs. Waring. She was the one who suggested the scheme and brought Richardson and his syndicate into the business. I must confess I didn’t like the fellow very much, and put off signing the agreement he brought from London—luckily, as it turns out.” He put his hands into his pockets and went to the window that looked out over the lake. “Father was never keen on developing this land, you know,” he added in a lower voice. “He always thought it should be left as it is, especially as there has been so much commercial development on the east side of the lake. I was beginning to feel badly about violating his wishes. You’ve given me a reason to back out of the arrangement, Will.”

So there would be no holiday villas on the shore of Lake Windermere, at least not now—and with luck, not ever. Will felt a very great relief. “Well,” he said, “I’m sure many will be glad that there will be no building on that shore.” He got up to go. “I’m to meet Waring’s train at the station tomorrow morning. If Mrs. Waring would be ready at nine, I can take her with me, and see that both of them take the next train back to London. If there’s no doubt in your mind that this is the right way to handle the situation,” he added.

“There’s no doubt,” the major said shortly. “Yes, do stop by. I’ll see that she’s ready, with her bags.” He turned around. “One more thing, Will. You said that the scheme—Thexton’s blackmail, that is—was discovered when someone overheard his conversation with my . . . with Mrs. Waring. I should like to know who overheard it, if I might, and in what circumstance.” He cleared his throat. “I’m concerned that this person might . . . well, that he might not be inclined to keep this in confidence. It’s a private matter, and deeply embarrassing. I don’t want the entire county talking about it until I myself am ready to make some sort of public statement.”

Will smiled briefly. “As to the circumstance, it took place at the foot of your garden, where Mr. Thexton and Mrs. Waring had gone for privacy. Miss Potter—the lady who purchased Hill Top Farm two years ago—happened to be sketching there. She’s the one who overheard the conversation.”

“Miss Potter?” The major frowned for a moment, and then his expression cleared. “Ah, yes. Miss Potter. The lady who makes the children’s books. She was at the reception on Saturday, as I recall.”

Will nodded and went on. “She had walked up through Cuckoo Brow Wood and was not aware that Fern Vale Tarn lay adjacent to your garden. She overheard the conversation inadvertently. I gather that she felt she could not escape without embarrassing them—and by the time she understood what they were talking about, it was impossible to declare herself.” He hesitated. “Don’t worry that she will spread the tale around, Christopher. You can trust her not to speak of it.”

The major’s nod was gloomy. “Saturday.” He sighed. “The afternoon the Luck was broken. It seems such a short time ago.”

“In fact,” Will replied, “it was the breaking of the Luck that alerted Miss Potter. That evening, she told me she thought Mrs. Waring might have dropped it in order to forestall Mr. Thexton, who was on the point of announcing her real name.”

“If I am ever able to recover from this, I am sure I will be grateful to Miss Potter. I loved Diana, or rather the woman I thought she was. But somewhere down deep inside, I think perhaps I never really trusted her.” The major shook his head. “I wonder if I shall ever be able to trust again.”

“I believe you shall,” Will said quietly. “You have many friends here, Christopher. Friends who can be trusted to be exactly as they seem.” He thought of Dimity Woodcock, and the happy relief on her face when he had told her that the major, in effect, had never been married. Kittredge had a friend in Dimity. “The next months are bound to be difficult. I hope you will count on all of us to help.”

“I shall,” said Major Kittredge. “Thank you, Will. And thank Miss Potter for me. Tell her that I am grateful to learn the truth—however much it hurts.”

“Of course,” Will said warmly. “I’ll be seeing her within the hour.”

“Oh?” The major raised an inquisitive eyebrow. His lips quirked. “Do I detect—”

“No,” Will replied, in a firm voice, “you don’t. The lady is still grieving over the death of her fiancé. All other thoughts are very far from her mind.”

Kittredge nodded. “Well, then,” he said. “Be sure and give her my thanks. It is better to know the truth than to be deceived.”

34

Lady Longford Receives Callers

Beatrix had not forgotten that she had promised Mr. Heelis to go with him on Tuesday afternoon to call on Lady Longford and try to persuade her to help Jeremy Crosfield. She was not especially looking forward to the meeting—Lady Longford was a prickly sort of person, and not at all likable—but she felt strongly that something should be done to help the boy. And anyway, there was the problem of getting Caroline out of Tidmarsh Manor for their May Eve fairy hunt. Besides, she was eager to learn from Mr. Heelis whether the photograph proved that Mrs. Waring and Mrs. Kittredge were the same person, and what had transpired during his talk with Major Kittredge.

Mr. Heelis arrived shortly before two o’clock, driving a bay horse and a smart red-wheeled gig. Beatrix put on her straw hat, climbed in, and as they drove up Stony Lane in the direction of Tidmarsh Manor, Mr. Heelis told her about the photograph and what the major had decided.

“Kittredge asked me to convey his thanks to you for discovering the truth,” he said. “He was deeply saddened—and angry, too, of course—but I think there may be some relief there, as well. He has decided to drop the building project.” He turned and his smile lightened his eyes. “You may rest easy, Miss Potter. There will be no villas on the shore of Lake Windermere.”

“I’m happy for that,” she said heartily. “And perhaps, in the long run—” She stopped. “I don’t mean to sound harsh. It is just that, when everything is said and done, the major may be glad to escape that marriage.” She was thinking of Dimity, too, and wondering how things would turn out for her. And for Mr. Heelis, too. She hoped he would not be too bitterly disappointed if Miss Woodcock and Major Kittredge renewed their friendship.

“I fully agree, Miss Potter,” Mr. Heelis said firmly. “It is my opinion that Irene Waring—for that’s her real name—would have brought Major Kittredge nothing but grief. Sad to say, but he is well rid of her.” And then they were driving up to Tidmarsh Manor, and there was no more time to discuss the matter.

Tidmarsh Manor was a square, forbidding-looking place, overshadowed by ancient yews. Its windows turned blank, empty eyes onto the world and its chimneys rarely showed a trace of smoke, because Lady Longford believed that fires were a waste of money, except on the coldest of days. In Beatrix’s estimation, it was not an hospitable place for a child, and she hoped that Caroline was able to find her own comfort, somehow or other. She ought to have friends in the village. She might be the lady of the manor someday, but the manor was a part of the village (at least traditionally), and the stronger the connection between them, the better for all concerned.

Emily, the maid, showed them into the library, where Lady Longford was writing letters, with Dudley, her ancient spaniel, sprawled on the floor at her feet. Every time Beatrix had seen the dog (who was named for the late Lord Longford), he was cross and out of sorts. He was also growing very fat, for Lady Longford fed him ginger biscuits, which were obviously doing him no good. (Actually, he didn’t like ginger biscuits very much, but like Lord Longford, he found it hard to say no to her ladyship.)

Dudley raised his head and gave a menacing growl. Her ladyship looked up from her letter and put down her pen, also looking cross, as if she was not pleased at being asked to interrupt her letter writing to receive callers.

“Well, Heelis,” she said shortly. She nodded at Beatrix, with slightly more politeness. “Miss Potter, too. What brings you here this afternoon?” In a dry tone, and with a lift of her eyebrow, she added, “Together.”

Beatrix understood. If Mr. Heelis had come on solicitor’s business, he would have come alone. The fact that he was accompanied suggested to Lady Longford that the call was of a personal nature, and no doubt made her ladyship suspicious.

“Tea, mum?” asked Emily.

“Yes, of course we’ll have tea, you silly girl. But there’s no need for cake. Bread-and-butter will do.” Lady Longford waved Emily away. She frowned at Mr. Heelis. “Well, Heelis? I’m waiting.”

Beatrix sat down on the sofa, although she had not been invited to do so, and Mr. Heelis, with a small, quiet sigh, sat down beside her. It would have been nice to have passed some pleasantries about the weather or about village matters, but that was not Lady Longford’s way. She was blunt and brusque and always went straight to the point. She expected others to be the same.

“We’ve come,” Mr. Heelis said without preamble, “to ask for your help.”

Lady Longford lifted her lorgnette and regarded him with a dour expression. “If you intend to badger me about my granddaughter, you can go straight away again. I’ve told Miss Potter that I intend to hire a governess for the girl, who has altogether too much freedom. She’s to continue her education here at Tidmarsh Manor, and cease associating with the village children, who are hardly suitable companions for her. And you needn’t try to change my mind, Heelis. It’s time that Caroline was educated for the role she is to play in life.” She lifted her chin, her eyes flashing. “She is to be a lady.”

“No, we’re not here about Caroline,” Mr. Heelis said, although he gave Beatrix a questioning look. Mr. Heelis had befriended Caroline when she first arrived at Tidmarsh Manor, and Beatrix knew that he cared for the girl and was concerned for her welfare. She wondered if he knew that Caroline was not doing well in school.

“I wrote this morning,” Beatrix said quickly, “to Mrs. Moore, my former governess, to ask for her recommendation.” Beatrix had been nearly seventeen and hoped to be done with governesses when her mother had hired Annie Carter. But the two had quickly become fast friends, and when Miss Carter married and became Mrs. Moore, Beatrix had visited her often. It was to Annie Moore’s little boy Noel that Beatrix had written the picture letter that later became
The Tale of Peter Rabbit.

“I’m sure that Mrs. Moore is acquainted with several young women who may be suitable,” she added. “I expect to hear from her shortly.” Choosing a governess for Caroline was not going to be easy, since Beatrix was hoping to find a young woman who would nurture the girl’s creativity and independence of thought, while Lady Longford would undoubtedly prefer a stern older woman who would insist that Caroline learn to follow her grandmother’s rules.

But for the moment, at least, Lady Longford seemed satisfied. “Thank you, Miss Potter. Well, then, Heelis? If you’ve not come about Caroline, what brings you here?”

“We’ve come,” Mr. Heelis said carefully, “about Jeremy Crosfield. He is the boy who lives with his aunt at Holly How Farm—your manor farm,” he added, with a slight emphasis.

“I know perfectly well that Holly How is my manor farm,” Lady Longford snapped. “What about the boy? Is he in trouble?” She shook her head disgustedly. “These boys, always into some sort of mischief. He hasn’t been tormenting the animals, has he? If there’s anything I won’t tolerate, it’s teasing and tormenting the animals. I—”

“No,” Beatrix said, interrupting. If Lady Longford were allowed to go on, she’d work herself into a spite. “Jeremy is
not
in trouble,” she said firmly. “He has done quite well in school this year, according to Miss Nash. He is a fine young scholar.”

“And he passed the entrance examination for Kelsick, the grammar school at Ambleside,” Mr. Heelis put in. “With an impressively high score.”

“Commendable,” said her ladyship grudgingly. “A surprising achievement, if I may say so, for one of the village children. I should not have expected any of them to be scholars.” She paused. “Well, then, if the boy isn’t in trouble and he’s done sufficiently well in school to earn a place at Kelsick, what is the problem?”

“The problem,” Mr. Heelis replied, “is that Jeremy’s aunt cannot afford to send him to school. Dr. Butters has found him an apprenticeship, with the apothecary in Hawkshead.”

At that moment, Emily appeared with the tea tray. She put it down, stood by while Lady Longford poured, and passed the bread-and-butter. Others of her ladyship’s social status would have served cakes and sweets, but frugality was the rule at Tidmarsh Manor.

“That’ll do, Emily,” her ladyship said. Emily left the room, and Lady Longford, her tea cup in one hand, went back to the subject. “With regard to Jeremy Crosfield, I can only speculate that you have told me about his situation because he and his aunt are tenants of my manor farm, and you suppose me to have an interest in the child. Well, then, you may tell Dr. Butters that I am glad to know of his interest in securing Jeremy a good place as an apothecary’s apprentice. The boy could do much worse.”

“But he could do much, much better!” Beatrix cried impulsively, leaning forward. “I have known Jeremy since I first bought Hill Top Farm. He has a fine talent for botany and natural history and a keen mind. His interests are academic—and artistic, as well. He can benefit greatly from more education, and from an opportunity to pursue his art. He can grow up to be someone of whom we will all be very proud.”

Suddenly, she was aware of Mr. Heelis, who was looking at her with some surprise, and of Lady Longford’s raised eyebrows.

“Indeed,” said her ladyship dryly, and put down her cup.

“Yes, indeed,” Beatrix muttered, thinking that she had gone too far—and then went even further. “It would be a shocking waste to train Jeremy as an apothecary, when he is capable of so much more. When he deserves an education.”

Mr. Heelis cleared his throat hurriedly. “As we said—and as your ladyship is no doubt aware—Jeremy’s aunt is an excellent spinner and weaver, and produces truly admirable cloth. But she barely earns enough money to keep herself and Jeremy, and there is nothing left over. It is quite out of the question for her to provide for his continued schooling.”