‘Left Mrs Batham’s!’ I groaned. ‘Marty, was Maggie ever there?’
‘Not for as long as Mrs Batham claims she was, I’ll warrant,’ Marty said. ‘Ianto tells me that he and Mrs Davies pressed her as hard as they could for details, at one time threatening to call a constable, but she clung to her story: that one day, as Mrs Batham was out shopping, Maggie stole the remainder of the money her aunt had collected from the manse and left, without a note. Now Ianto is just one of many clergymen in the area: he has written to each one asking them to be on the lookout for a woman of Maggie’s age, pregnant and surely by now destitute.’
‘Apart from offering a reward, is there anything I can do?’ I asked.
He shook his head gravely. ‘Not until she is found. It’s a sad business, isn’t it, Matthew. Now, I’d best be on my way. No, not the gentry’s door, my friend – I’ll go the backstairs route, if it’s all the same to you.’
‘It’s the one I prefer to use myself,’ I said, truthfully but disingenuously.
And by some miracle Harriet was leaving her room as we passed it. Naturally I stopped and performed the introductions. To my delight, as they shook hands, she pressed Marty to take tea in the Room. ‘You will find Mr Bowman and Mrs Arden there – not to mention a plate of freshly-made scones and a sponge cake as light as a feather. We are all as concerned about Maggie as Ma– as Mr Rowsley is.’
He retained her hand for a few more seconds, as if to show he understood more than he would share with anyone else. ‘Matthew is the name I like to call him too, Mrs Faulkner. I hoped we would become better acquainted,’ he continued, ‘on a trip to Wolverhampton, but it seems that must be postponed, at the very least.’ As he spoke, to my shame, I knew that somewhere in my genuinely profound anxiety for Maggie lurked a pang of deep, yes, painful, disappointment that our innocent outing was not to be. ‘Shall I wait until I can apprise all of you of the latest developments? That cake smells wonderful,’ he added, comically rubbing his stomach.
Samuel was inclined to stand on ceremony, but both women warmed to a side of Marty I’d not seen before: an enviable ability to make a new acquaintance into an old friend.
Soon the pleasant exchanges turned to the grim news he had brought us. Tears welled in Harriet’s eyes and, to my surprise, in Samuel’s.
He turned to me. ‘Surely, Matthew, the estate can offer a reward for anyone finding her safe and sound? Surely!’
‘Of course. I will contact the constabularies of all the towns around Wolverhampton and ask them to organize it forthwith.’
‘There must be,’ Harriet said, her voice thick with emotion, ‘the chance that she will be found … dead. And we are not the only ones concerned. Someone must break the news to Mrs Billings. Marty, are you well enough acquainted with her?’
‘Only with her menfolk, I’m afraid. But if you wish—’
‘That must be my job,’ I said decisively. ‘But I would be so grateful, Marty, if you would go with me.’
‘Bless you, I have to pass by the gatehouse to get back to the village. We could walk together.’
Beatrice said, ‘You must have a woman with you. I would offer but I hardly know her.’
‘No, I will go,’ Harriet said, gently but firmly. ‘Could you prepare a basket of essentials, Bea? She may not wish to eat, but feed her family she must.’
Mrs Billings seemed less interested in the news of Maggie than in telling me about the bright blue pills Dr Page had prescribed her, which she swore were doing her the world of good, all thanks to me and my generosity. The words tumbled out of her toothless mouth almost at random, becoming a torrent as she saw what Harriet was carrying. Marty, lurking behind us in case she had demanded details of her daughter’s departure, stayed silent until she went in, closing the impressive door behind her. He shrugged eloquently. His face told of his sadness: he must be contrasting his own grief for a girl with whom he’d done no more than pass the time of day, if that, with her own mother’s apparent lack of feeling.
His departure for the Royal Oak left Harriet and me in an embarrassed silence. To break it I told her about the fate of his wife and child.
‘That’s why he’s moved here: to get away from the scene of his tragedy. You’ve probably heard what a good influence he is in the village. He won’t let anyone drink more than they should – which in his reckoning is more than they can afford. He doesn’t begrudge them the warmth of the snug for no more than half a pint of ale carefully nursed for a whole evening.’ I could chatter no more. I turned to her, hands outstretched. ‘Oh, Harriet!’
She reached for them, but snatched them back, as if they might be burnt.
We had not moved from where Marty had left us.
She set us in motion, keeping a respectable distance from me and obviously trying to find something to say, but failing. I honoured her all the more for offering to come on an errand which must necessarily involve us in an unchaperoned and probably embarrassing walk together.
‘I am sorry about this morning,’ she said at last. ‘I broke my promise to you. I was wrong.’
‘I was wrong to extract a promise you didn’t want to keep,’ I countered. ‘I am sorry to have caused you so much pain.’
‘It is pain – but mixed with so much happiness. I can’t bear to leave here, and I couldn’t bear the House without you. What shall we do, Matthew?’
‘For the time being we will do nothing. You know that I love you and would marry you tomorrow if I could. I know – I believe that you love me, but I know something holds you back.’
‘It’s because I love you that … No, I have to be able to confess everything to you before I agree to marry you.’
‘Let us consider ourselves engaged, then – with a couple of provisos! Oh, Harriet, there has to be joy in this world. Think of Ianto, grateful for even the very few years he had with his beloved wife and their daughter. It is wrong not to accept joy in whatever form.’
To my amazement – and yes, joy! – she put her hand in mine. ‘Yes. Let us consider ourselves engaged – with provisos. And, oh Matthew, I promise that I will not try to give you the slip again.’ She took a deep breath, as if to return us to some form of normality, and withdrew her hand. ‘Tell me, are you going to practise your new bowling grip in time for Saturday’s match?’
‘This very evening, if you will supervise.’ We were both shaking with emotion, but stayed apart, rather than let the embrace we both so desired provide entertainment for a group of labourers making their slow progress to their next task.
‘I believe you must find a moment to tell her ladyship,’ Samuel said, ‘despite all the evidence leading me to suppose that she will not take kindly to the news.’
‘One of her own servants brought so low!’ Beatrice said. ‘No, my advice is you should continue to do good by stealth, Matthew. She’s told you to run the estate: run it. And make sure your plans for Stammerton are in place before the Reverend Kill-joy gets better – which he won’t for some time, I hear. He’s suffering from – no, modesty forbids me to mention the parts affected.’
‘Orchitis,’ Samuel said loftily. ‘A result of the mumps.’
Serious indeed, in a man not yet old.
‘Oh, don’t talk to me about mumps!’ Beatrice said. ‘Another kitchen maid’s got a face out here.’ She gestured. ‘Elsie.’
‘Three of my girls have already had it or are getting over it. What about your young men, Samuel?’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Thomas – but then he’s sweet on young Elsie, isn’t he? He’s probably caught it from her. Oh, dear. I hope he doesn’t suffer what Mr Pounceman has.’
‘At least the wretched man’s not the marrying sort,’ Beatrice snorted. ‘But Thomas and Elsie – a nice, normal, young couple. You don’t want the bedroom side stopped before it’s even started. Oh, drat! There it goes.’
In response to his bell, Samuel heaved himself up, donned his most impassive face and set off upstairs.
Having an uneasy suspicion that Beatrice might try to leave us unchaperoned, I grinned. ‘Ladies: I have borrowed a cricket ball from young Will. It would be so helpful if you could assess for yourselves whether I have made any progress.’
Beatrice was on her feet in a flash. ‘What fun! So long as we stick to the south side of the building, mind. We don’t want to annoy her ladyship.’
‘We’d better stick to the north side then: if she craned her neck she’d be able to check on us from her boudoir otherwise. Do you mean to recruit a footman or two to join the game?’ Harriet’s eyes danced.
‘I think Samuel’s presence will suffice,’ I declared.