Lady Gwendolen Investigates. ANNE ASHLEY
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to be one of the wealthiest landowners in Somerset. Although she had never heard a word to his discredit, her late husband having enjoyed more than just a casual acquaintance with the gentleman in question, and his father before him, she thought it would be no bad thing to, perhaps, attain an unbiased view from another source before she paid a visit herself.
‘I recall my husband mentioning a Mr Northbridge, a close neighbour of his, I believe.’ She chose not to reveal at this juncture that she had a very dear friend employed as governess in the household. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of Jane’s status. Nothing could have been further from the truth. No, it was merely that she thought she would receive a more candid opinion of the aforementioned gentleman if she kept certain facts to herself.
‘Lord bless you, ma’am! I’d never get a job there!’ Annie exclaimed, much to Gwen’s intense surprise.
She then began to experience slight feelings of unease. ‘Why is that, Annie? Is he not—perhaps—a well-liked person?’
‘Oh, no, ma’am, it ain’t that. It’s t’ other way, if anything. I’m not saying he’s liked by everyone, but he is by most. And that’s a fact! He can be sharp, mind,’ she went on to divulge, after a moment’s thought. ‘Ain’t afraid to say what he thinks, Mr Northbridge ain’t. But ’ee’s fair. My big brother, Ben, him that toils down at the smithy in the village ’ere, would work for ’im tomorrow, iffen there were a situation going. Trouble is, nobody ever leaves Mr Northbridge. Not unless they’re taken away from the place in a box, that is!’
Gwen stared across at the parlourmaid for a moment in stunned disbelief. ‘What in the world do you mean by that, Annie?’
‘Well, ’tis this way, ma’am. Like anyone else, Mr Northbridge’s got ’is faults. All the same, there’s no denying folk lucky enough to get taken on at Bridge House stay there, and only leave when the Almighty decides it’s time for ’em to move on. Mr Northbridge knows fine our Ben would be ’appy to run the stables for ’im, and he’s promised Ben he’ll be given a job soon as there be one. But m’brother’s not daft, ma’am. He knows ’ee might be working at the smithy a good while yet.’
Gwen listened to these disclosures with decidedly mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was comforting to know that her dearest Jane had found herself a position where the head of the family was held in such esteem; on the other hand, though, it might prove no easy task to achieve her objective—namely to prise her dearest friend, the female whom she had always looked upon as a sister, away from this pillar of the community and persuade her to come and live with her now.
There was no denying that Jane had grown into a fiercely independent young woman. The only child of well-respected, if not affluent, parents, she had been both proud and determined to make her own way in the world. Gwen was equally aware that there would have been a greater chance of attaining her dearest wish if this unknown Mr Northbridge had proved not to be such a paragon. Undoubtedly she would discover precisely what manner of man he was for herself in due course.
In the meantime, though, there were other matters requiring her attention, she decided, quickly returning to the unpacking of the various trunks cluttering the bedchamber. Her first visit to Bridge House would need to be postponed for a while, at least until her own home had been restored to full working order.
In point of fact, it was over a week later before Gwen began to think seriously about making that short two-mile journey to Bridge House to see Jane Robbins. She had had much to occupy her since her arrival, not least of which had been engaging the services of Annie on a permanent basis, and hiring one of Annie’s young brothers, Joe, to help bring some much-needed order to the neglected garden.
Although the steadily recovering Mrs Travis had been very well pleased by Annie’s appointment, declaring that she was an excellent maid, one who could be relied upon to work without supervision, and not cut corners, Manders had betrayed no similar delight when informed that there would shortly be an extra pair of hands not only to help about the garden, but also to assist with all the other outside tasks.
His decided lack of enthusiasm hadn’t altogether surprised Gwen, for as the days had passed she had become increasingly convinced that Annie’s low opinion of Manders was fully justified. The resentment she had easily perceived in his expression, when she had informed him of the changes she intended to make, she strongly suspected, didn’t stem from the fact that he believed she thought him no longer capable of doing his work. Oh, no, it was much more likely to have been because, having someone else working alongside him every single day, he would no longer be able to idle so much time away in some out-of-the-way corner, feet up, pulling on his pipe. Already there had been noticeable improvements in several areas of the garden, and it was no longer a rare sight to see Manders himself pushing a wheelbarrow along one of the overgrown paths.
Her housemaid’s sudden appearance in the cosy back parlour, which Gwen had quickly selected for her private domain, drew her attention away from the activity taking place in the garden. For a short while she absently watched as Annie made up the fire, before enquiring into how her two newest employees were settling in.
If Annie felt surprised by this show of interest in her welfare, and that of her much younger brother, she certainly betrayed no sign of it. ‘Champion, ma’am,’ she declared, rosy face beaming. ‘My room in the attic’s nice and cosy. And I knew right enough I’d be happy working under Mrs Travis.’
‘And what about your brother? How’s he settling in?’
‘Well enough, Mrs Warrender. He’s finding no trouble with the work, young though he is. But ’aving a room all to ’imself is summat strange for ’im. Used to sharing with Ma and the little ’uns, you see?’
It said much about the conditions endured by the majority of those less fortunate members of the human race that sleeping alone in a room measuring little more than six feet by eight was considered the height of luxury.
‘Yes, I’m sure Joe must find it odd. But I’d rather he stay where he is for the present, where you can continue to keep an eye on him.’ Gwen turned once again to stare out at where the thirteen-year-old Joe was hard at work doing battle with a bramble patch. ‘The day might dawn when he’d prefer to share those quarters above the outhouses, and I shan’t object if he chooses so to do. As I saw for myself, only the other day, there’s ample room up there for three people. But for the time being I think it best he remains close enough for you to keep an eye on him. He’s still a child, after all.’
Gwen knew she didn’t need to say anything further. Annie was no fool, and although the maid herself was more than capable of holding her own against a taciturn individual like Manders, it didn’t automatically follow that her sibling might quickly learn to do the same. So, for the time being at least, it was worth keeping a watchful eye on proceedings, if only to be certain that young Joe wasn’t being put upon by his co-worker.
Gwen’s thoughts then turned to other events that had occupied her during her first week in her new home. She certainly hadn’t found time hanging heavily on her hands, even though she hadn’t received a single visit from a neighbour. In view of the fact that both Annie and the local practitioner, Dr Bartlet, had mentioned that what had seemed half the county, at some time or other, had fallen victim to the particular malady that had struck down poor Mrs Travis, the lack of callers in no way surprised her. All the same, she did think it rather strange that she had received no word from Jane, not even the briefest of notes awaiting her, especially as she herself had made a point, the instant she had arrived back in the country, of apprising her dearest friend of precisely when she expected to be taking up residence in her late husband’s home.
As was her wont, Gwen wasn’t slow to act once she had come to a decision, and asked Annie to send Martha Gillingham to her immediately and then instruct Manders to have the one and only horse-drawn vehicle the late Sir Percival Warrender had ever possessed brought round to the door.
The journey to Bridge House was blessedly of short duration. None the less, it was with a feeling of intense relief that Gwen alighted from the antiquated conveyance that afforded no more comfort than a farm cart, vowing as