Lovers Meeting (17 page)

Arkenstall raised his eyebrows but ducked his head in a little bow to Josie. ‘Pleased to meet you, ma’am.’ He picked up the will from the desk and read, ‘This is the last will and testament of William Langley, shipbuilder—’ He broke off to glance up at Tom. ‘He went on to name his executors, James and yourself, but then he reverted to the wording of the previous will wherein he left the shipyard and this house to his eldest son, David, and the remainder of his estate to James. At the time I said that this was pointless as David and his entire family had perished. William replied that he was determined to have it that way. He said, “God forgive me, I tried to cut the boy out of my life. I will not disown him now.” So that is how the will stands.’

He followed Tom’s gaze as it strayed to Charlotte and Tom said, ‘So Charlotte inherits all.’

‘Not quite. There is just one other bequest—’ Arkenstall read from the will again: ‘To my protégé and staunch friend these last twenty years, Thomas Collingwood, I leave my yacht
Celia
. May she bring good fortune to him.’

Josie looked up to see Tom’s lips working. He said huskily, ‘He loved that cutter.’ Then he cleared his throat. ‘But having said that, the rest comes to Charlotte.’

Arkenstall nodded. ‘That is correct, as she is the sole surviving relative.’ Then he put the will aside and picked up another document. ‘This is James’s will. As you will recollect – you were at sea when it was read but I informed you by post of the relevant passages …’ He paused, brows raised in enquiry, and Tom nodded. The lawyer went on, ‘You will remember that James left everything to his widow and as she died intestate then it passed to his daughter. He also said – and this was possibly prompted by the untimely deaths of his brother and his family – that in the event of his daughter being orphaned then William and yourself would act as guardians and trustees.’

Tom nodded. ‘I remember. God knows I never expected to act.’

‘But you will, of course?’ Arkenstall said this with confidence, obviously with faith in his man.

Tom confirmed it: ‘I will. I gave my word and I will not break it. William taught me that.’

‘Good.’ Arkenstall smiled at the child. ‘You will like having Captain Collingwood looking after you?’

Charlotte’s gaze shifted from him to Tom and back again. She asked, ‘And Mrs Miller?’

Arkenstall blinked at her and Tom said soothingly, ‘Yes, Mrs Miller will be looking after you.’

Charlotte said, ‘Good.’

Felicity was tight-lipped and complained to Tom: ‘You will carry out the onerous duties and only Charlotte will benefit.’

He answered shortly, ‘The duties are not onerous and it is right that Charlotte should inherit.’

Felicity sighed. ‘Really, Tom, you’re too generous. As a friend of twenty years you deserve better. The
Celia
is something, though I think it an expensive toy and you will not find me aboard a small craft of that kind.’ She stood up, shaking out her skirts and pulling on her gloves.

Tom replied soothingly, ‘Sailing is not a lady’s pastime. But she is a lovely little craft.’

Felicity made for the door. ‘Well, I have a luncheon appointment. Good day, Mr Arkenstall.’

Tom crossed to the door, opened it for her and followed her into the hall. Felicity’s voice came clearly: ‘You must instil some discipline into that child, Tom. See that … that Mrs Miller does it …’ Her voice faded as she left the house and the engine of the car throbbed into life. Josie stayed in her seat, wondering if she should leave now. But it seemed that Arkenstall had not finished; he sat with his papers spread across the desk still, plainly waiting.

The car slid past the window and Tom came back into the office, took up his stand before the fireplace again. Arkenstall said, ‘There is one final item—’ He went back to William’s will and detached a sealed envelope from it. ‘This is addressed: “To my son, James, to be read after my death.” I think it now comes to you.’ He handed it to Tom.

Tom read it, silently, then passed a hand over his eyes. He looked at Arkenstall. ‘He just said how much he regretted breaking with David, says he was wrong and realised too late. He finished: “Pray to God to forgive me.”’ He turned away to lean on the mantelpiece, his face in his hands.

Arkenstall shuffled his papers together and Josie stood up quickly and seized Charlotte’s hand. She addressed Arkenstall and Tom equally with false brightness: ‘If that is all you require of Charlotte and myself, sirs?’

Arkenstall answered, smiling, ‘Why, yes, Mrs Miller. I think so.’ Tom nodded, not turning.

Josie led Charlotte from the room and out to the kitchen. There she began preparing lunch while the little girl chattered around her legs and helped with the work, kneading the pastry for a pie and rolling it out with her fat little fists struggling with the rolling pin.

Josie was able to think with a part of her mind. The old man’s letter left to his son had affected her, though not so deeply as it had Tom Collingwood. Her heart softened towards her grandfather, who had so bitterly regretted his treatment of her father and mother – and herself for that matter. She had come north to lay a ghost. The ghost had been laid but now – if he had lived she could have found it in her heart to pity him.

‘Me! Me!’ Charlotte demanded, and Josie gave her the fork so she could make the holes in the piecrust. It came to her then – though she admitted she should have realised it when the will was read – that she, as the daughter of David, the elder son, should inherit this house and the shipyard while Charlotte would have only the rest of the estate.

And if she disclosed her identity now?

Tom Collingwood would see her as an impostor and fortune-hunter who had somehow heard of James’s death, though that fortune now consisted solely of this house.

A week later, on a morning when the wind blew in cold from off the river bringing a spit of rain, Josie walked home in a more cheerful mood. She was returning from the shops in Dundas Street, Charlotte trotting by her side. The little girl carried her own small basket with the rag doll, Amelia, cradled in her other arm. As they turned into the square, Josie saw the big house spread across the end of it. She also saw a number of her neighbours in white pinnies, shawls around their shoulders, gossiping at their doors despite the rain and the cold. Josie knew them all now. Ever since that first morning when they had called out a welcome to her.

They greeted her now: ‘Hello, hinny!’

‘Good morning,’ Josie replied.

‘“Mornin”,’ chimed in Charlotte.

One asked, ‘How are you managing in that big house?’

Josie paused to answer, ‘Just about coping, thank you.’

Another called, ‘And how are you getting on wi’ that Tom Collingwood?’

Before Josie could construct a careful answer to this yet another put in, ‘I see he goes back to lodgings every night.’

He did. Josie tactfully answered so and let the previous question go. ‘Yes, he does.’

Still another, mock solemn: ‘It seems a shame wi’ that big house and a dozen rooms in it. Surely he could fit in there.’

Josie’s head kept turning, because there was still one more to call. ‘I’d find room in the house for that big lad!’ And now they all laughed. So did Josie but she hurried on, feeling the blood in her face. Then she heard them chorusing behind her: ‘Hello, Captain Collingwood!’

And his deep reply: ‘Good morning.’

He caught up with her at the foot of the steps leading up to the front door. ‘Good morning. What were they laughing about?’

Josie told a white lie. ‘I don’t know. It must have been something I didn’t catch.’ She wondered if he would accept this.

He did, because he was preoccupied and said only, ‘They won’t be so cheerful later.’ Josie saw that he was serious. As they passed through the doorway into the hall, he paused, considering her, then said, ‘You’d better know. Everyone else will, soon. And as your employment as governess, nurse, housekeeper—’ He smiled wryly over the multiplicity of titles – and duties. Then he continued, ‘You would be justified in wondering what truth might lie behind the talk you will hear. So will you come in here for a few minutes, please?’

He dropped his cap on the small table in the hall, ushered Josie into the office and gestured to her to take the leather armchair Felicity had occupied at the reading of the will. He sat at the desk and took a thick sheaf of papers from an inside pocket. ‘I’ve been busy this last week and the result is here.’ He waved the papers, then tossed them on to the desk. ‘It would take me most of the day to read all that’s written there but it can be summed up very briefly: William had a large amount of insurance and that covered most of the outstanding debts. I’ve been able to clear them so I’ve managed to save the yard for Charlotte.’

They both glanced at the child, playing with her doll on the floor near Josie’s feet, oblivious to the conversation. Josie had been listening carefully and over the past few days had been thinking and learning. She had decided she could not always pose as the servant answering in monosyllables. She had to speak her mind sometimes and risk his displeasure if it meant she might gain some respect. Now she questioned boldly, ‘You said the insurance covered most of the debts. What covered the rest?’

Tom straightened in his chair and set hands on his knees to glare at her. ‘That is none of your business, Mrs Miller.’

Josie went on as if she had not heard, ‘I know you sold the
Celia
. People talk. Two gentlemen were strolling ahead of me just the day before yesterday, discussing the sale. It was bought by a Mr Billy Fredericks for—’

‘That’s enough!’ Tom cut in, exasperated. ‘Yes, the sale of the
Celia
helped.’

Josie remembered how he had received the news that he had inherited the cutter and knew he would not have let her go unless he had to. She ventured again, ‘And your own capital?’

Tom opened his mouth to rebuke her again but then sighed and admitted, ‘That’s about the size of it. You may as well know that as well. Oh, you don’t need to worry, I can find the money for your wages, but—’

‘That was
not
my concern, Captain Collingwood!’ Now Josie sat very straight and glared, outraged. ‘I have not asked for money. My concern is for the child’s welfare.’ She would have worked for nothing. But then she remembered the part she was playing and amended: ‘Of course, I am only an employee, not a member of the family, but I do care for Charlotte. And if my salary is … delayed or postponed, I will still carry out my duties.’

Tom ran his hands through his hair and growled, exasperated, ‘I was only trying to reassure you, Mrs Miller. You understand, I know nothing of your personal circumstances, whether there is a child of your own, or some elderly relative, dependent on you and your earnings. That is not uncommon.’

Josie relaxed and bent her head in acknowledgment. ‘Perhaps we may go on again. Have you more to tell me?’

‘I said they would not be so cheerful later on.’ Tom waved a hand at the window and looked out. Josie, too, could see through the lace curtains to the square outside. In passing she thought wryly that she had given those curtains a much-needed washing and ironing but, of course, Tom had not noticed. But she could see the life of the square and the women at their doors. Tom said, ‘There isn’t money to pay the men and no sign of an order. I’m closing the yard and laying off every man.’

Josie stared at him, appalled. ‘Oh, T—’ She corrected herself hastily: ‘—Captain Collingwood! That’s awful!’ From comments heard as she passed the women at their doors she knew that almost every woman in the square had a man working at Langley’s, some of them with a husband and sons. ‘Do they know?’

Tom shook his head. ‘Not yet. I’ve sent for Harry Varley, the manager. I’ll inform him of the situation first, then go down to the yard and tell the men. Harry’s a married man with three small children. And there’s all the rest.’ He shook his head miserably.

Josie asked, ‘Can’t the banks help?’

‘No.’ Tom sighed. ‘When he couldn’t get an order to build a ship William kept the yard going on repair work and loans. But the repair work has dried up and we’ll get no more loans without an order to build.’ And now he held Josie’s gaze, his dark eyes staring into her as he said, ‘You ask some shrewd questions for—’ He paused to choose his words, not wanting to patronise.

Josie thought, For a servant. And she forestalled him, ‘I was fortunate enough to receive an education with the Urquharts.’

‘Um.’ Tom’s answer was non-committal and he was still watching her. But then there came the
jangle-jangle
! heard faintly from the kitchen, caused by someone yanking on the front-door bell-pull. Tom rose from his chair. ‘That will be Harry Varley now. Will you excuse us?’ He opened the door and Josie led Charlotte out into the hall. There she gathered up her shopping basket and Charlotte’s and delayed long enough to see the man admitted by Tom.

Harry Varley was short and wiry, energetic. Josie learnt later that he had grown his beard to make him look older. It served now to hide any anxiety of expression, but that anxiety was in his voice when he said, ‘You sent for me, Captain Collingwood.’

‘Aye, Harry. Come on in.’ And Tom set an arm round his shoulders and took him into the office.

Josie took the shopping along to the kitchen, hung up her coat and that of the little girl, then unpacked her purchases and put them away. Charlotte was absorbed in some game with Amelia, chattering away to the doll. Josie took advantage of this and sat down at the kitchen table to consider. The house was safe – so far. But the Langley yard was to close and God only knew if it would ever open again. That would take an order and money – a lot of it. Josie was the real heiress, not Charlotte, who was just a child. So Josie had inherited the responsibility that went with any estate. It was her duty to try to put the Langleys back on a sound footing. She could not hope to start up the yard but she could try to keep this house going. She was on a month’s trial. How could she persuade Tom Collingwood to keep her on?

Josie chewed on the problem for some minutes but did not find a solution.