Chapter 23

Bidston, Wirral, February 1870

From the moment M. Antoine entered the kitchen, Patty knew she was not going to be happy working with him. He was a small man with a thick, black beard and small dark eyes that darted to and fro as he prowled round the room, picking things up and putting them down, opening and closing cupboards and muttering what she guessed from his tone were imprecations in his own language.

Finally he turned to face her as she stood with Iris at her side. ‘And this is where I am supposed to prepare food? Mon dieu!’ He spread his arms in a gesture of dismay. ‘Alors, one must proceed somehow. You!’ He shot a look at Iris. ‘Who are you?’

Iris bobbed a curtsy and answered in a tremulous voice, ‘Please, sir, I’m Iris. I’m the kitchen maid.’

‘And you?’ Antoine turned his gaze on Patty.

She squared her shoulders. She was damned if she was going to curtsy to this ill-mannered little foreigner. ‘My name is Patty Jenkins. I am the pastry cook.’

‘Pastry cook?’ His tone expressed disbelief. ‘And where did you train for this?’

‘Partly at Speke Hall,’ (which was true, if you counted her brief, informal sessions with M. Blanchard), ‘and partly at Freeman’s Department Store.’

‘Department Store?’ From the look on his face she might as well have said ‘at the zoo’. He sighed theatrically. ‘Ah well, for now we must work with what we have. And until today you have been in charge of all the cooking here?’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Mon dieu! No wonder Sir Basil was prepared to offer me whatever I asked to induce me to come to this … this backwater. Well, we must show him that he made the right decision. So, it is time to prepare the soup for midday. You, girl! Fetch me six onions, and some carrots and peel and chop them. Alors! What are you waiting for?’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Vite! Vite! Quickly. And you—’ he turned to Patty ‘—you will make me a list, an inventory, of everything you have in your stock cupboards. Then we shall see what is lacking.’

From that day on he made it clear that he regarded Patty as an underling, to be ordered about and relegated to menial jobs. Even when she proposed making some of the sweet dishes she knew were favourites of her employers, her suggestion was countermanded.

‘Jam roly-poly? You English and your stodgy puddings! Instead we shall have a tarte aux pommes with crème anglais.’

‘I don’t know what that is,’ Patty said stubbornly.

‘Then I shall make it and you shall watch and learn.’

Even when she made cakes for Lady Helena’s tea party he insisted on changing her tried-and-tested recipes for one of his own.

His attitude towards Vera was similar. Used to an established hierarchy, he referred always to Nanny Banks in regard to the management of the household, and the old lady, who until then had spent most days dozing by the fire, suddenly felt it necessary to exert her authority, frequently countermanding Vera’s instructions to cleaners or tradesmen. She had been in the habit of taking her meals on a tray in her own little sanctum but M. Antoine insisted that she should take the head of the table at meal times. He himself sat at the foot and tutted his disapproval at the table manners of Jackson and his son, Danny. Any jokes or light-hearted comments were met with frowns of disapproval either from him or from Nanny Banks. Only Mr Charles and Paul Sedley were treated with any respect, but they held themselves aloof and the animated discussions about chemical experiments ceased. Vera retreated into injured silence and the once easygoing atmosphere of mutual comradeship was banished.

One result of this was that Jackson and Danny, often accompanied by Barney, took to spending their evenings in the Mother Redcap pub. After one of the earlier occasions, Barney reported that Charles and Paul had been there as well.

‘Sat in a corner by themselves,’ he said. ‘Made it clear they didn’t want our company.’

One Monday morning Vera came into the kitchen with a look on her face that made Patty drop the whisk she was using.

‘Whatever is wrong? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’

Vera grabbed her wrist. ‘I must speak to you. Come into the office, now, please!’

Patty looked round. M. Antoine was leaning over a pot on the stove, stirring it with fierce concentration, and she knew Nanny Banks was closeted with Lady Helena.

‘All right, just for a moment. Or I’ll get the sharp edge of Antoine’s tongue.’

‘Never mind that!’ Vera said. ‘Come on!’

In the privacy of the office she burst into tears. ‘Oh, Patty, I’ve been such a fool! Such a fool!’

‘What have you done now?’ Patty asked. ‘I thought you’d been keeping on top of everything since that last upset.’

‘It’s not what I’ve done, or not done. It’s what I’ve been feeling, hoping … Oh, I don’t know what I’ve been hoping for. But now …’

‘Is this something to do with Paul?’

‘I’ve just seen something so … I can’t tell you. I don’t have the words.’

‘Seen what? What’s happened?’

Vera swallowed and forced back a sob. ‘I was changing the bed linen, like I always do on Monday mornings. I thought Charles was with Sir Basil and Paul was getting ready for his lesson with Lady Helena. I went into Charles’s room … I suppose I should have knocked but I thought it was empty. And I saw … they were … they were doing something so horrible! I can’t describe it.’

Patty stared at her, trying to comprehend. Vague memories of hints and jokes, only half understood, when she worked at Freeman’s came back to her as well as what she’d heard from other girls on the street. ‘Were they kissing?’

‘No, it was worse than that.’

Patty was lost for words, her imagination trying to conceive what Vera had seen. In the end she said, ‘I think, I’ve heard that some men … prefer other men to women. Perhaps it’s good you found out now …’

‘Well, shouldn’t I tell Lady Helena? Though I don’t think I could bring myself to find the words.’

‘Well, what are you going to do, then?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far. I just know … you said I was making a fool of myself. You were right.’

Patty put her arms round her. ‘Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. You were right. I suppose I was jealous, a bit. But I could see he wasn’t really interested in you. I didn’t know why, but now I suppose I do. Really, it’s been obvious all along, hasn’t it? I’m afraid. He always wanted to be with Charles, not with you.’

‘I know! I know!’ Vera sobbed. ‘But what am I supposed to do now?’

‘I don’t see what you can do—’ A sudden thought came to her. ‘Did they see you?’

‘I don’t think so. They … Charles had his back to me and Paul … Paul was – well, he wasn’t looking. I only just opened the door and then I closed it very quietly.’

‘In that case, can’t we just pretend nothing’s happened? After all, they aren’t doing anyone any harm, are they? I mean, it isn’t Paul’s fault that you misunderstood his intentions.’

‘I can’t bear to see him now. How can I look him in the face?’

‘I don’t see what option you’ve got. Either we tell Lady Helena and she tells Sir Basil, and they both lose their jobs, or even go to prison. Isn’t what they were doing against the law? Or we keep quiet and let them get on with it.’

Vera drew back and lowered herself into a chair. ‘If you put it that way … Perhaps that is the best thing to do. I suppose one day Sir Basil might find out for himself, but that won’t be anything to do with me.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best.’

‘Then do nothing,’ Patty said. ‘It’s the only way, as far as I can see.’ She glanced at the door. Beyond the glass panels she could see Antoine moving. ‘I must get back. You sit quietly here for a bit, until you feel able to go on. You don’t want Nanny Banks complaining that you haven’t done your job.’

For the next few days Vera went about her duties like a ghost. As soon as Paul came into the room she found some excuse to be elsewhere and she carried her meals up to her own room, or missed them altogether. Patty made excuses for her, saying she was unwell and hinting at ‘women’s troubles’ when pressed for more details. Patty felt lost herself. Once Vera had been her rock and her guide; now she was in need of counsel and comfort, and Patty had none to give her. That, together with the constant irritation of M. Antoine’s behaviour, left her depressed and in need herself of a friendly arm to rely on.

She continued to spend her Sunday afternoons at the farm, but she no longer dared to take a cake. M. Antoine kept a strict record of everything in the store cupboards and she knew that he would have missed the eggs and sugar she needed. It mattered less these days, however, since Daisy had taken her lessons to heart and Gregory made sure that the necessary ingredients were to hand. Patty considered taking him into her confidence about Vera’s revelations and asking his advice, but he had taken to asking Jerry to see her home so they were never alone. Then one evening, when the first daffodils were opening, he said, ‘Jerry has work to do in the stable. You will not mind if I walk you back, will you?’

Patty felt a frisson of anxiety mingled with pleasure. ‘No, of course not.’

As they walked he talked about the coming season and his preparations for it. He had plans to expand his herd. More and more houses were being built in the vicinity and the market for his milk was growing. He spoke with optimism about future prospects.

Some distance from the gate of Avalon he stopped suddenly and turned to face her.

‘Patty, I want to ask you something.’

‘Oh, yes …?’ She made a movement to continue the walk but he stood between her and the pathway.

‘I think you must guess what it is. I have come to know you over these last months and I have seen how Daisy and the boys are with you. They love you, Patty, and so do I. I know you’re a town girl and maybe the life of a farmer’s wife isn’t what you hoped for. But I can offer you a good home and a secure future.’ He paused and she said nothing. He went on, ‘Maybe you would rather marry someone who does not already have children, but the young ones need you. They need a mother, specially Daisy now she is growing up. And there can still be others, children of our own.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘I am asking you to marry me, Patty. What do you say?’

She gazed at him mutely. Her mouth was dry and her feelings were in such turmoil that she could find no words for him.

‘Come,’ he said, ‘say yes, and make me the happiest man in the world.’

He reached out and drew her to him. She felt his lips seeking hers, the urgent pressure of his body against her, and, as before, some instinct, some memory not of the mind but of the body, made her jerk away and struggle free.

‘No, don’t! I can’t. Please don’t …’

He looked stricken. ‘Come, I don’t mean to force you. If I have been too eager you must forgive me.’

‘I’m sorry!’ she panted. ‘Really, really sorry. But I can’t marry you. I can’t marry anyone.’

‘What do you mean? You’re not wed already, are you, to some fellow who has gone off and left you?’

‘No, no. It’s not that.’ She pulled herself together with an effort and looked at him. ‘I’ll tell you why, and then you will not want to marry me. I owe you that. Once, not that long ago, I was forced to sell my body to any man who asked. It shames me to say it, but it was the only way to keep from starving.’

He stared at her. ‘You were a prostitute?’

‘Yes.’ She stepped round him. ‘Now let me go, and try to forget about me.’

She half ran to the gate of Avalon. When she reached it she looked back. He was standing where she had left him, staring after her like a man waking from a nightmare, unsure what was real and what belonged to the dream.

As soon as she entered the kitchen, M. Antoine began to scold her for being late. There was supper to prepare and for the next hour she was subjected to his frequently snapping fingers and his cries of ‘Vite! Vite!’ There was no chance to think about the conversation that had just occurred, no chance to talk to Vera about it. Then the rest of the staff assembled for the meal and by the time it had been eaten, and the dishes had been washed and cleared away, it was bedtime. Patty dragged herself up to the attic rooms and tapped on Vera’s door.

Her friend was sitting up in bed with one of Lady Helena’s magazines unopened on her lap. She took in Patty’s expression and said, ‘It’s my turn to ask what’s happened. You’ve been distracted all evening. Has something bad happened at the farm? It’s not one of the children, is it?’

Patty sat down on the edge of the bed. She felt exhausted, as if her life blood was draining away.

‘No, it’s not the children. Gregory has proposed to me.’

Vera leaned forward and caught her hand. ‘That’s wonderful! Why are you looking so down? It’s great news.’

Patty shook her head. ‘No, it’s not. I turned him down.’

‘Why? Patty, think! I know you’re not happy here anymore. Nor am I. But you are being offered a way out. Gregory’s a good man, and he can give you a comfortable home. You like his children, and you will have children of your own as well. It’s the perfect answer for you.’

‘And what about you?’ Patty asked. ‘It would leave you on your own here.’

‘Never mind about that. I shan’t stay, if you leave. I’m sure Lady Helena will give me a reference. I shall look for another position.’

‘And what about our plans? Our dream?’

Vera shook her head. ‘That’s all it is, Patty. All it could ever be. How much have we managed to save since we came to work here? The only money we have spent is on those dresses for the New Year’s Eve ball. But even if we hadn’t spent that, the sum is so small. It would take us years to save enough to start our own business. You mustn’t turn down the chance of a happy life with Gregory just to save that dream.’

Patty shook her head with a sigh. ‘That’s not why I turned him down.’

‘Then why? You like him, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do. But I can’t … you know what I did before I ended up in the workhouse. I can’t bear to let a man, any man, do those things to me again.’

Vera looked at her sadly. ‘Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. I never thought of it like that. But surely, with a man you loved, you could get over that. I don’t know Gregory very well, but he strikes me as the sort of man who would not force you.’

‘I’m sure you are right,’ Patty said. ‘But it won’t happen. I told him what I did for a living. He won’t want me after that. What man would?’

‘Did he say that?’

‘No. I didn’t wait to hear him say it. But it’s obvious, isn’t it?’

‘Not necessarily. If he really loves you … he might be prepared to forget the past.’

‘Even if he was, I can’t.’ Patty squeezed her eyes shut against her tears. ‘I do like him, Vera. But apart from … the other thing … I’m not sure I’m suited to being a farmer’s wife. I enjoy going there on Sunday afternoons and I like being with Daisy and the little one, but that’s not the same as living there all the time, is it?’

‘No, that’s true,’ Vera said. She was silent for a moment. Then she reached out and took Patty’s hand. ‘It seems to me that we both need to leave this place. It’s a shame, because we have been happy here. But I can’t face seeing Paul every day, after what I discovered. And it will be hard for you to be near Gregory. Even if you stop going to the farm, you are bound to come across him in church on Sundays and other times. What do you say? Shall we start looking for another position?’

Patty pressed her fingers and then withdrew her hand. ‘It will probably work for you. With the sort of reference Lady Helena will give you I’m sure you could get a place as a governess, or lady’s companion. But I’m not really qualified to be a cook. Sir Basil found that out. I can manage plain food, but that’s not enough.’

‘It would be for some people. In a small family, or perhaps an elderly gentleman.’

‘It would mean we would not be together, though.’

‘Not necessarily. Perhaps we might find a single lady, a widow maybe, who needed a companion and a cook. Or she might have children needing a governess. There must be situations that would suit us both. Come, cheer up! We’ve both had to start out on unknown paths before, but we have survived. We’ve been lucky. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t be lucky again.’

Patty looked at her affectionately. ‘You’re a good friend, Vera. I don’t know where I’d be without you – stuck in the workhouse, probably. If we could find somewhere that would suit us both, it might be the perfect answer.’

‘Then tomorrow we start looking,’ Vera said. ‘Now get some sleep. Goodnight.’

Sir Basil always brought home with him that day’s edition of the Liverpool Daily Courier and when she had finished reading it Lady Helena passed it on to the staff. Since no one else seemed greatly interested Vera normally commandeered it, so it aroused no curiosity when she and Patty took it up to their rooms after supper. The front page of the paper was devoted to small advertisements, offering items for sale, announcing forthcoming events and listing situations vacant. Every evening they trawled through these, searching for one that would accommodate both of them, but without success. There were several for which Vera alone might have applied, given a good reference from Lady Helena, but none of them also required a cook. Patty began to conclude that in the end they would each have to take whatever came their way.

She dreaded the next Sunday, knowing that she was bound to see Gregory and the children. After the service she tried to get away quickly but he waylaid her.

‘Patty, I must talk to you. Come to the farm this afternoon, please!’

She saw the appeal in his open, honest face and could not refuse. ‘I’ll come, but I don’t see what else we have to talk about.’

She kept her word, but as she entered the farmyard she was suddenly aware, as if it was her first visit, of the mud on the cobbles and the smell of dung from the barn and the pigsty.

Gregory was waiting for her. ‘Walk with me,’ he requested.

They strolled along the field margin where the herd was grazing. Most of the cows had calves with them.

‘Do they all have babies?’ she asked.

He laughed. ‘Most of them. There’s one or two still to calve, back in the barn.’

‘Will you keep them all?’

‘I may keep a few of the young heifers – that is, the female ones. The bulls will have to go for slaughter.’

‘For slaughter? Why?’

‘Well, I can’t keep them. They don’t produce milk, and that’s how I earn my living. If I kept them all I’d be overrun with cattle.’

‘Well, why do you let them have so many then?’ she asked.

He looked at her as if she was a child – a rather stupid child. ‘If the cows don’t have calves they don’t give milk. It’s as simple as that.’

She shook her head. ‘Poor little things!’

‘I’m afraid that is how it has to be. You can’t be too soft-hearted if you’re a farmer.’

He stopped walking and faced her. ‘I have been thinking about what you told me. Indeed, I have thought of nothing else all week. It seems to me that all that was in the past, and none of it was your fault. Nothing you have said makes any difference to who you are now. Can’t we put it behind us?’

She looked into his face. ‘It’s easier said than done. Even if you can forget what I was, I cannot. I told you. I can’t bear the thought of … of letting a man … do those things to me.’

‘Suppose I were to say that I would not ask you to. That we could live together like brother and sister?’

‘It wouldn’t be fair on you. And it wouldn’t work. Sooner or later, you would want more than that.’

‘Perhaps, in time, you might come to feel differently.’

‘That’s just it,’ she said. ‘You would keep hoping that things might change, and I should keep wishing that they could. It would be too hard for both of us. You need a proper wife, Greg, not a … a half-baked one like I would be.’

He sighed deeply. ‘Well, let us leave it for now. All I ask is, don’t give up on us altogether.’

She knew she ought to finish it there and then, but he looked so wounded that she did not have the heart. They walked in silence back towards the farmhouse.

Back in the kitchen Daisy had made a sponge cake. She had just set it on the table when Jerry ran in, looking scared.

‘Pa, it’s Marigold. She’s in trouble.’

Gregory pushed his feet back into his boots. ‘I’m coming.’ He looked round at Patty. ‘Perhaps you should come and watch this.’

‘Who’s Marigold?’ she asked, as she followed him out of the kitchen.

‘One of the cows,’ he said over his shoulder.

Patty screwed up her face as they entered the barn. The smell was worse than ever and it made her feel sick. In one of the stalls Jerry was holding up a lantern and in its light she saw a cow, head hanging and flanks heaving. Gregory ran his hand along the animals back, murmuring reassuring words, then he bent and thrust his arm inside her. Patty stared, horrified. Gregory grunted with effort and then withdrew his arm, covered to the elbow in blood and mucus.

‘The calf’s the wrong way round. It needs to be turned but my hand is too big. I can’t get in far enough.’ He looked round. ‘Here, Patty. You’ve got small hands, but you’re strong. Come here and I’ll explain what you need to do.’

Patty stood transfixed. ‘I can’t! I can’t do that!’

‘Yes, you can. Come on. I don’t want this calf to die.’

Patty shook her head desperately. ‘I can’t! I’m sorry. I just can’t.’

He gave vent to a half-smothered oath. ‘Jerry, fetch your sister. She’s done this before. She won’t let me down.’

Patty stood back and Jerry brushed past her. Then she turned and ran out of the barn. At the kitchen door she almost bumped into Daisy, who called, ‘Watch the little ’un.’ But Patty, after checking that the baby was still asleep, waited only to grab her coat and bonnet from the hook by the door and then she ran as fast as she could back to Avalon.

Later that night she wrote a short note, which she gave to Iris to deliver next day.

Dear Greg,

You have seen now that I could never make a farmer’s wife. You need someone who will be a help to you, not a coward like me. I am going away soon and I think it will be better if we do not see each other again.

I shall miss you and the children, but perhaps when I am out of the way you will find someone else who can be everything you need her to be.

Your friend,

Patty

Later that morning Patty was up to her elbows in flour, preparing the pastry for a steak and kidney pie, when the front doorbell rang. A few minutes later Vera came into the kitchen.

‘Lady Helena wants you in the library.’

‘What now? Ask her if she can wait a few moments. I’m covered in flour.’

‘I think you had better go straight away,’ Vera said. ‘She’s got a gentleman with her.’

‘A gentleman? What sort of gentleman?’ Patty felt a flurry of anxiety. It was obviously not one of the local people, or Vera would have recognised him, but what could a stranger want with her?

‘Smartly dressed. A professional gentleman of some sort. You’d better get up there.’

Patty rinsed her hands and pulled off her apron, which was doused in flour. Hastily tucking her hair under her cap she ran up the stairs and tapped on the library door. Bidden to enter, she found Lady Helena in the company of a small man wearing pince-nez on his rather sharp nose.

‘Ah, here you are, Patty,’ she said. ‘Come in. This is Mr Weaver. He is a solicitor and he wants to speak to you.’

Patty’s stomach lurched. A solicitor? That meant a lawyer. What could a lawyer want with her? Had one of her erstwhile clients laid a complaint against her, after all this time?

‘Please do not be alarmed, Miss Jenkins,’ Weaver said. ‘There is nothing to worry about.’ He looked at her employer. ‘Do you think Miss Jenkins might be allowed to sit down?’

‘Of course,’ Lady Helena responded. ‘Take a seat, Patty.’

Patty lowered herself onto the edge of a chair, glad that her long skirts hid the shaking of her knees.

Mr Weaver opened a briefcase and took out a manila folder. ‘Am I right in thinking that you spent some months last year in the Brownlow Hill workhouse?’

‘Yes,’ Patty responded faintly.

‘Do you remember a Miss Eleanor Pargeter?’

Patty shook her head. ‘Was she one of the wardens?’

‘No, she was an inmate like yourself. A rather eccentric lady, I believe.’

Something clicked in Patty’s memory. ‘You don’t mean Mad Nelly, sir?’

‘Is that what you called her? Why?’

‘She was always going on about her father. He was a rich man and one day he was going to come and fetch her home. Well, we knew she couldn’t have a father living. She was an old woman – and what was she doing in the workhouse if she had wealthy relatives?’

‘I understand your doubts,’ Weaver said, ‘and of course you were correct that she could not have a living father. But in other respects her story was the truth. She did come from a wealthy family.’

‘No? Really?’

‘Let me explain. It is a sad story, I would say a tragic one, except that it does have a happy ending. Miss Pargeter’s father, Sir John, was a rich man, as I said. He had interests in coal mining and in the railways. Her mother died when she was a young girl and after a few years her father married again. His new wife was a widow, with a son of her own. I fear it was not a happy arrangement for Miss Eleanor, though I have no evidence to back that up. All I know is that from that time onwards Eleanor suffered from recurrent bouts of illness, which were diagnosed as hysteria. The marriage was not of long duration, because the new Lady Pargeter died of typhus in the last great epidemic. When Sir John also died he left his estate equally between his daughter and his stepson, Marcus. Now, we come to the saddest part of the story. Marcus was a shiftless fellow. He gambled most of his share away and frequently borrowed money from his stepsister. Then he heard about the discovery of diamonds in South Africa and conceived the notion that he could redeem his debts and become rich by joining the rush to exploit it. He persuaded Eleanor to invest in a joint enterprise and promised her a good return on her capital. She believed him and signed the necessary documents and he took himself off the South Africa. She never heard from him again.’

‘Oh, the scoundrel!’ This interjection came from Lady Helena.

‘Quite!’ Weaver agreed. ‘As a result, Eleanor was unable to pay her bills. The bailiffs were called in and she found herself out on the street. She had always been, shall we say fragile? This turn of events completely unhinged her and when she was taken in to the workhouse it was assumed that her tales of a wealthy father were pure fantasy.’

‘Poor old thing,’ Patty murmured. ‘If only we’d known … We used to laugh at her.’

‘But you alone showed her kindness. You used to bake cakes and you gave some to her.’

Patty blinked. ‘How do you know that?’

‘All in good time,’ the little man said. ‘As it happened, Marcus’s gamble paid off. He bought a mining concession and it turned out to be very profitable. He became a rich man, but he did not enjoy his riches for long. A year ago, he succumbed to malaria and died, intestate and without issue. You will appreciate that that left the authorities in somewhat of a dilemma. Who should inherit? When they examined his papers they found the original agreement under which Eleanor had loaned him the capital to finance his enterprise. Clearly, the fruits of that enterprise now belonged to her. The lawyers dealing with the matter in South Africa contacted me and asked me to trace her whereabouts. It took me a week or two, but I eventually located her in the workhouse.’

‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’ Lady Helena exclaimed. ‘So you were able to reinstate her in her own home?’

‘Not precisely,’ the lawyer said with a sigh. ‘She was by then in a very fragile state of health. I found a home run by the Sisters of Mercy and had her transferred there and she lived out the last months of her life in comfort and with the best of care.’

‘She is dead, then?’ Patty said. ‘But I am glad that it was proved she was telling the truth all the time. I wish we had understood.’She hesitated. It seemed odd that he had come all this way just to pass on this information, but she could not see what it had to do with her. She got up. ‘It was kind of you to come and tell me. Thank you.’

‘Wait,’ Weaver said. ‘You haven’t understood the real purpose of my visit. You recall that I mentioned your kindness in sharing your cakes with her?’

‘Oh, yes. I had forgotten. How do you know about that?’

‘Eleanor never forgot. And before she died she made a will. Most of her money goes to the Sisters of Mercy. There is a bequest to the infirmary at the workhouse. There is also a legacy, a substantial one, to you.’

‘Me? Do you mean she left me some money?’

‘Quite a lot of money.’

Patty sat down again abruptly. ‘How much?’

‘One thousand pounds.’

Lady Helena gave a small gasp. Patty gazed at him, struggling to find words to respond.

‘Do you mean, for me to do whatever I like with?’

‘Certainly. But I hope you will take good advice about how to invest such a sum. Do you have a bank account?’

‘Me? A bank account? No.’

Weaver produced a card case and held one out. ‘If you would be so kind as to wait on me at my office, sometime in the next day or two, I will be happy to arrange that for you, and the money can then be transferred.’

Patty took the card. ‘Oh, yes. Thank you.’ The response came automatically.

Weaver put his documents back in his briefcase and rose to his feet. ‘In that case, I think we have concluded the necessary formalities for today. I will take my leave.’

Helena rang a small bell on the table beside her and Vera appeared at the door with a promptitude that suggested she had been loitering in the hall. ‘Show Mr Weaver out, please, Vera.’

Weaver made a small bow. ‘Lady Helena.’ Then, to Patty, ‘Miss Jenkins. I look forward to renewing our acquaintance very soon.’

‘Yes. Thank you.’ Patty’s thoughts were whirling.

As the door closed behind him Lady Helena got up and took hold of Patty’s hand. ‘Patty, this is wonderful news! You do realise, don’t you, that if you invest this money in the three per cent bonds you will have an income for life? I am sure Sir Basil will be more than happy to advise you how to do that.’

Patty looked into her eyes. That’s very kind of you, ma’am. But I know exactly what I am going to do with the money.’