Miss Jesmond's Heir

Sir Garth smiled, ignoring the hidden rebuke. ‘Noble of her, I’m sure. Shouldn’t expect anything else of her. She’ll make some fortunate man a useful wife.’

By his expression he obviously considered himself to be that man, which, Jess decided, would be a pity. She deserved something better than this conceited jackanapes. He decided to take his leave. He could not stomach too much of Sir Garth’s company.

That gentleman, once Jess had gone, sank into an armchair, remarking to his sister, ‘Which of you does he fancy? You or Georgie? He looked down his nose at me when he thought that I was criticising her.’

‘Georgie!’ exclaimed Caro with a scandalised laugh. ‘He doesn’t fancy Georgie. They are quite at odds with one another, I believe. Thinks her a hoyden by the way he spoke when he brought her home.’

‘Does he, now?’ Sir Garth was thoughtful. ‘Some men have a penchant for hoydens, though.’

‘Not Mr Fitzroy. You must have observed that he is very comme il faut.’

‘Secretive devil, too,’ said Sir Garth, ignoring this last comment. ‘Wonder where he comes from. Would bear looking into.’

A verdict similar to the one which Jess had already passed on him!

Parsons, late Miss Jesmond’s land agent, arrived in the afternoon and was shown into the library, that repository of battered books.

Kite had earlier placed a box of grimy documents which he had salvaged from the attics on one of the tables for Jess to inspect. Before that he had had a distracted visitor: a young farm labourer, Jack Wild, one of Jess’s tenants, whose little daughter had disappeared that morning from the garden at the back of his cottage and had not been seen since.

‘I need a search made, sir,’ he had said hoarsely. ‘I thought you might be able to help me, seeing that you are my master now.’

Jess had the pleasure of telling him that his daughter was safe at Pomfret Hall after falling in the river and that she had been rescued by the bravery of Mrs Herron. ‘Go to the stables,’ he ended, ‘and ask one of the grooms to drive you over in the gig, collect her and take you both home.’

‘That I will, sir, and thank you and thank Miss Georgie, too—begging your pardon, but we all called her that before she married—it seems odd to think of her as Mrs Herron.’

‘One question for you before go on your way. You work at my home farm, do you not?’

‘Aye, that I do,’ agreed Wild eagerly. ‘Worked for old Miss Jesmond all my life. Don’t have much to do since Mr Parsons left. Miss Jesmond paid my wages—belike you’ll do the same.’

‘I am hoping to re-employ Mr Parsons—if he is not already committed elsewhere.’

‘Doing piece-work for Banker Bowlby, he is. Would probably like his old job back.’

He left, still thanking Jess profusely. Jess thought that he ought to thank him for revealing that Banker Bowlby seemed to have a finger in every pie.

Parsons turned out to be a large square man with a weathered face, dressed in country clothing.

‘You wished to see me, Mr Fitzroy?’

‘Indeed. You were my aunt’s land agent, I believe. When did she dispense with your services—and why?’

Parsons had not known what to expect of Miss Jesmond’s heir. He looked a right soft gentleman and no mistake with his pretty face and his pretty clothes, sitting there in the ruins of a once-fine library.

On the other hand, his first words had been direct and to the point.

‘After she sold most of her land she no longer needed an agent, nor, she said, could she afford to pay one, so she told me that my services were no longer needed.’

It was a straight answer to a straight question. Jess, leaning back a little in his chair said, almost as though he were not interested, ‘Why did she sell her land? Do you know?’

‘She said that she had made foolish investments and Banker Bowlby was helping her to pay back what she owed by taking the land off her hands as quickly as possible.’

Parsons’s face when he came out with this was expressionless, passing no verdict on what he was saying.

‘Have you any notion of how much he paid her?’

‘None, sir. She seemed happy with it, but…’ He paused and fell silent.

‘But?’ prompted Jess, eyebrows raised.

‘But, begging your pardon, sir, she was weak in the head by this time, and I am not sure that she quite understood what was what.’

‘You were present?’

‘When Banker Bowlby visited her here. Yes.’

‘Was no sum mentioned then? Or any account given of her debts?’

‘None. I understood that these matters had been raised in a meeting at the bank and this meeting was for her to sign the documents which he had prepared for her. The butler and I were simply there as witnesses.’

‘You did not read the documents, then?’

‘No, sir. I asked—but Mr Bowlby and Miss Jesmond both assured me that they had gone over them together and that they were both satisfied with their contents.’

‘But you said that Miss Jesmond was weak in the head.’

‘Aye, sir, but when I tried again Miss Jesmond grew petulant and sent me away. She said that I was trying to ruin her. One of the footmen signed the documents instead. Soon after that she dismissed me. I think Banker Bowlby recommended her to do so—although he took me on to do piece-work for him, saying he was sorry for me.’

‘And did you believe him?’

‘No, sir, but I needed the work, so I said nothing. I have a family to keep.’

‘And would you work for me, in your old capacity?’

‘But you have little land, sir, and so have little use for an agent.’

Jess smiled coldly. ‘You must allow me to be the best judge of that.’

Parsons stared across at Kite, busy taking notes.

‘Begging your pardon, sir, but what is that man doing?’

‘Mr Kite is keeping a record of our meeting in case my memory fails me. He will now write down that I have offered you your post back at slightly more than Miss Jesmond paid you. He will also note down your answer—which is?’

‘That I accept, sir, except that I am a little troubled about what my duties might be.’

Jess said over his shoulder, ‘You have that, Kite?’

‘So noted, sir.’