“Did you?”
“No! You are right that it came from Apstead House, but that was my home for many years — over twenty-five years. Those clocks were bought for me, Captain Edgerton, a gift from Lord Rennington. Such a generous man! When he died, Mr Nicholson came and asked me to leave. No, he didn’t ask. Heorderedme to leave, standing over me while I packed my personal effects, but he wouldn’t let me take anything from the house, not a thing, even though so much of the art and porcelain had been bought for my pleasure. I don’t doubt his right to do it, and he was perfectly civil over it — sympathetic, even — but it was hard, very hard, to leave my home after so long. That clock had been undergoing repairs at the clockmaker’s, so when it was ready, I quietly paid the bill and brought it here. It’s almost the only thing I have left of Henry now. That and the jewels he gave me over the years, which pay for my rent and keep me in tea.”
“You mean there was no annuity? No settlement? After twenty-five years as his mistress?”
“Nothing. Not a penny piece. He left the house to Mr Nicholson, and perhaps he assumed that he would look after me, but he threw me out and installed those girls there. A mistress would have cost him money, you see, whereas a brothel would make a profit and he could still take his pleasure whenever he wanted.”
“So you were Nicholson’s mistress, too?”
She bridled a little. “I was Henry’s mistress. The late Lord Rennington. He owned Apstead House and paid the bills. However, I used to oblige Arthur from time to time. No one else, but he was a great friend of Henry’s and more my age. Henry came to me more for companionship by that time, so he thought I’d be pleased to have a younger man, and he always assumed that Arthur would look after me when Henry was gone. They used to drive over together at first, go to their political meeting, then come here for a good dinner and cards or music or whatever Henry wanted. Latterly it was just Arthur, but I still thought of myself as Henry’s mistress. He used to write to me, you know, when he couldn’t see me for a long spell. He had others before me, but no one else after he met me. Just like an old married couple we were.” She smiled, lost in memories. “He was a lovely man. Not like Arthur. He had a certain… well, a superficial charm, but the way he treated me… that was not charming.”
“You must be angry at the way he has treated you.”
“Angry? No. I never expected to be kept in luxury for the rest of my life, Captain Edgerton. A mistress rarely has a prosperous old age. Henry was very generous, so I’m quite comfortable here, with enough jewels still in the bank to feed and clothe me for a good few years yet. An annuity would hardly have made much difference. I would have liked a little cottage, perhaps, furnished with a few bits and pieces from Apstead House. There was a lovely little davenport… and the spinet, although it would be too fine for these rooms. And perhaps the lacquered vases in the hall. They were a birthday gift from Henry. I’d have liked to leave my home in some dignity, instead of all in a rush. But I bear Arthur no grudge.”
“So you did not kill him, then?” Michael said in innocent tones, and waited to see how she would react.
She burst out laughing. “And how would I have done that, Captain? He was murdered in the middle of the night, wasn’t he? In his bed at Corland Castle, a place I have never been to in my life. I might have poisoned him, if I’d had a mind to do away with him, but slashing him with an axe? Not likely.”
“I should be happier if you had someone who could vouch for you being here on the night in question.”
“What was the exact date?” she said, rising, and opening a drawer.
He told her, and she pulled out a small book and flicked through the pages. “Ah, here we are. I was at a musical evening at a friend’s house. A respectable friend,” she added with a wry smile. “The widow of a corn merchant. She will remember it, for her daughter spilt wine on my gown. Shall I give you her name and direction? She will tell you who else was there — about a dozen of us, altogether. Dinner beforehand, music till eleven, then I walked home with the milliner from across the street.”
25: An Unpleasant Journey
Tess was fascinated to hear of Mrs Clegg.
“But she must be Miss Carlisle!” she said delightedly. “It is her good taste in all the furnishings. Things were much better in Miss Carlisle’s day, according to Mrs Harris, the cook. Best cuts of meat, and plenty of it. Then, when my father took over, penny-pinching was the order of the day. I should so like to meet Mrs Clegg. Might we invite her here? She could show us the davenport she would like, because there are at least two. The spinet she may have, and the vases, for I do not care for them.”
“Lord Rennington would not like you to give away such objects, however worthy the cause,” Edward said. “He and the other trustees have a duty to look after your inheritance.”
“Well, perhaps I shall invite her to live here, then. The house should not be left empty.”
“Again, it is for your trustees to determine what happens to the house. They may decide to sell it.”
“But I do not want it sold. Perhaps I shall live here myself, with Mrs Clegg as my companion.”
Edward huffed in annoyance. “Tess, you are incorrigible! Your uncle will never approve of such a woman as your companion. If you want to live here as a single woman, and personally I do not see why you should not, you must at all costs have a companion who can also act as chaperon, and who will give you consequence. You could not choose anyone less suitable than Mrs Clegg.”
“Then I shall just have to marry Ulric. Then I could live here with whomever I choose, and my uncle would have nothing to say about it.”
Edward’s face darkened, but he did not deign to respond to this provocation. He had reverted to his stuffy self, and there had been no more kisses, but he followed her everywhere she went, looking thoroughly disapproving. She had found a few outstanding bills in a drawer, so she had filled her purse from the cash box in the room above the coach house, and walked around town discharging the debts. Edward walked beside her in silence for the whole time.
He was with her when she called upon Mrs Clegg.
“You have a look of your father,” that lady said when she saw Tess. “The chin in particular, and around the mouth, I think, although your hair is much darker than his.”
She had tea brought, with a plum cake, and the three of them sat, the two ladies chattering away as if they had known each other forever, and Edward sitting stiff and silent on the edge of his chair. He sipped his tea, but refused the cake. Tess had three cups of tea and four slices of plum cake, and felt pleasantly full.
“You see?” she said, as they walked back to Apstead House afterwards, Harold following at a respectful distance. “What a charming lady! She would suit me perfectly as a companion. I shall write to Uncle Charles and see what he says. Naturally, I shall describe Mrs Clegg as a respectable widow, which she was,once, before she met my grandfather. And if he agrees to it, I need not marry Ulric at all. There! That should please you.”
He raised his brows disdainfully. “Do you care whether I am pleased?”
“Not a great deal, no, although you are vastly better company when you are in a good mood.”
“Do you want to cry off this visit to Myercroft?” he said.
