Chapter 49. An Appointment With the Past
And they both managed a full night’s restful sleep.
Scarlet was breakfasting alone at the dining table, scanning the papers when the phone call came.
“You’ll never believe what Ian told the magistrate,” said D’Arcy. “By the way, our detective lost him at the BBC – there are just too many entrances – so he very sensibly dispatched himself to your current place of residence. He obtained one long distance photo of Ian backing you up against a wall – no kissing, but the buttons of your coat undone.”
“What did Ian say?”
“He said you were disguised as the nanny! Is that possible, Scarlet?”
Scarlet flushed. She had not expected this. “I did borrow the nanny’s greatcoat. And hat.”
“Why on earth?”
“I wanted to get a good look at any loiterers.”
“Please leave that to us and don’t do it again. We are presenting ourselves as the innocent parties here – if a judge gets a whiff that the two of you are playing some marital game he’ll toss the whole case out as collusive.”
“I’m sorry,” said Scarlet. “I guess I didn’t think. So, what did the magistrate do?”
“Well, he absolved Ian of contravening a court order but of course one isn’t supposed to slam nannies against walls, either. Since the detective testified to some kissing, Ian said he was having a “try-on.” It certainly doesn’t help his case and he was unarguably too close to your residence. The judge has added the nanny to the order and repeated “Stay away.” On the whole, I think we can call this a win.”
A hammering at the front door vaulted Scarlet to her feet. Must be the security crew.
“I must go. Is that all?”
“That covers it. You be a good girl, now.”
Scarlet promised, too distracted to argue that girlhood felt very long past now and never to come again.
A woman wearing an old-fashioned duster stood on the doorstep, arm akimbo.
“I’m here to see why I was fired. Mollie Jarviss of Jarviss Cleaning.”
“I’m sure we didn’t fire you,” said Scarlet, who had been expecting the security men. “Why don’t you come in and we’ll sort this out?”
She seated Mollie in the dining room and found Miss Bottomley toasting her toes in the kitchen, “keeping Enid company” which seemed to be her favorite new pursuit. She was wearing Scarlet’s bulky red anorak.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she apologized, “it just fits me so well, it’s so hard to stay warm and it’s so comfortable.”
“Not in the least,” said Scarlet. “You can have it. It doesn’t really fit me anymore. Clearly, I need new outerwear. By the way, was there any problem with the cleaning company that you can remember?”
“Our cleaning company? I can’t think of any,” said Miss Bottomley. “I never saw them. But they certainly seemed honest, quiet and best of all from my point of view – they were fast.”
“Mrs. Jarviss is claiming she was fired.”
“I didn’t fire her,” snorted Miss Bottomley, “I fired Mr. Inkum. Bob Thomas and I did.”
“So you won’t object if I re-hire her?”
“Not in the least. I wouldn’t care to audition anyone new at this late stage.”
Scarlet carried the good news to Mrs. Jarvis.
“It’s Inkum who’s been let go,” she averred. “We’ll be paying you from now on.”
Relief melted Mrs. Jarviss’ face, followed by embarrassment.
“That’s all right, then,” she said. “I apologize if I was forceful. I thought we’d been found wanting but nobody told me. Fix anything the customer doesn’t care for is my motto. My girls are honest and hard-working.”
“That’s great, then. Miss Bottomley is well satisfied.”
“Four o’clock today, then? Two pounds ten.”
“Certainly,” said Scarlet, trying not to show how surprised she was at such a low figure for this vast place. She escorted a much-subdued Mrs. Jarviss to the door. “We’ll see you this afternoon, then.”
If it was once a week, she thought, there wouldn’t be a need to give Mrs. Jarviss the code. But she must remember to get a cheque from Miss Bottomley.
The security men were pulling up at that very moment.
“Good morning,” said Mr. Dyson. “This is Bert, who will work on keying your front door. John Truax here will oversee the job at the back.”
Bert was all business in a gray oil-stained boiler suit He immediately knelt to study the door locks with scarcely a glance at Scarlet. Truax was more personable. He looked ex-military with his shoulders bulging out of his turtleneck and tweed jacket.
“Miss Bottomley’s favorite number is 881,” whispered Scarlet. “Some childhood address.”
“That’s where we’ll start, then. If you could walk us to the back?”
Miss Bottomley was delighted by the company and offered tea all round, which the men did not take up. Elevenses, they averred, at eleven, would be welcome.
“I will need a chair, if that’s all right,” said Truax. “For my post.”
It was certainly all right.
Three trucks had already pulled up in the forecourt.
“I wish I could watch,” said Miss Bottomley regretfully, “But I must get ready for Mr. Thomas. We’re going to the bank.”
“Nick and I can keep watch,” said Enid.
Scarlet thought it was really the handsome Truax who had drawn Enid’s attention.
“I have some things to do upstairs,” said Scarlet.
But it was not to be. The front door bell summoned her yet again. Who’s the housemaid now? Wondered Scarlet but her disgruntled expression changed when she saw Pom and a sweet-looking young man standing before her on the doorstep.
“Finally, someone I want to see!” she gasped. Pom and the stranger broke into smiles immediately.
“Kirby Crousam,” Pom introduced, “From the Victoria and Albert. We went to art school together.” They had to step over locksmith Bert to enter.
Scarlet bit her tongue to avoid telling poor Mr. Crousam that he didn’t look old enough to be running his own affairs, much less anyone else’s. The boyish-looking man produced a very professional portfolio with pages of checklists. He insisted on a complete tour.
“Oh, my goodness,” gasped Crousam, “I can’t believe my eyes. Wells Antiquarian chairs, St. George cabinets –and this washstand – simply priceless!’
“I thought it was a prie-dieu or something,” muttered Scarlet.
“No, this rather strange piece of marble was simply laid on top. I suppose they thought they were repurposing it. But the upholstery looks original.”
“Well, no one has ever sat there,” said Scarlet, while Pom echoed, “Who would WANT to?”
“It’s true these pieces are thoroughly out of fashion now,” Crousam agreed. “But they are living history. All the more reason they should be protected.”
“They belong in a museum,” said Scarlet, and Kirby Crousam flushed with pleasure at a comment which in her country would be more of an insult. Scarlet’s conscience smote her and she offered Kirby Crousam a cup of tea.
“After I’ve finished that would be most welcome,” said Crousam.
“After you’ve finished you may be ready for dinner,” said Pom. “There are three floors of this stuff.”
“I feel like I’m dreaming,” said Crousam. “It’s a treasure trove!” Closer up, Scarlet saw the network of wrinkles. He looked more like a jockey, really – boyish at a distance but seen close-to he was prematurely aged, more like a chimneysweep .
“How can everything possibly be in such perfect condition?” Crousam continued. “It’s a curator’s dream come true.”
“Well, the old lady who lived here before Miss Bottomley seemed to prefer luxury cruise ships.”
Kirby turned up the carpet to study the weave.
“It usually comes down to some old party too frightened to make a will.”
Pom flashed his charming smile. “And whose relatives were all too shy –“
“Or too snooty –“ teased Scarlet –
“To get married or have children and so when the old lady died the whole property went to another old lady the first old lady had never even met.”
“How Dickensian,” murmured Crousam.
“And our heiress old lady was a novelist who believed in finding the proper place for everything,” Scarlet finished. “These pieces should be where people can enjoy them.”
“And learn from them. The museum would be so honored to receive any of these pieces. We have such a small endowment – people don’t realize – but sometimes we can raise funds for certain items -“
“I think you’ll find Miss Bottomley wants to be as generous as possible. Why don’t you get in touch with Bob Thomas of Thomas & D’Arcy – he’s her man of business.”
“Of course,” said Crousam, making a note. “Are there any rooms I shouldn’t enter?”
“I’d say the kitchen and the rooms behind it. Those are Miss Bottomley’s private quarters,” said Scarlet. “Why don’t I let you know when she’s available?”
Alysse Aallyn 
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