Page 2 of Needs Must
‘Just a moment, Mrs Harte,’ he said breathlessly. ‘The owner is keen to have a respectable tenant, and one who will take good care of his property.’
‘Which is more than can be said for the last one,’ Miriam said, looking at the walls with a contemptuous snort.
‘The property has been vacant for some months,’ Potts reiterated, the master of understatement.
‘And the owner, who is so keen to see it maintained, didn’t think to keep it in good repair himself while seeking an alternative tenant?’ Donna asked in a sweetly sarcastic tone. She was almost enjoying sparring with the hapless man who had underestimated her determination. She wanted to tell him not to feel discouraged. He most certainly wasn’t the first to do so, and given her current circumstances he was unlikely to be the last.
‘He has been occupied with his other estates.’
‘And lacks a steward to look after his interests?’ Miriam harrumphed as she rippled her shoulders indignantly. ‘Sounds highly fishy to me, ma’am. You’re right to say that it won’t suit.’
‘I feel persuaded that the owner would be willing to consider a lower rental for a genteel lady such as yourself,’ Potts said, almost wringing his hands together and completely ignoring Miriam.
‘That rather depends upon how much lower he’s prepared to go,’ Donna replied, ‘and how much help he’s willing to provide to put the property back into good order.’
‘Well now …’ Potts pretended to think about a situation that probably required no consideration at all. He had greatly exaggerated the expected rental when showing the property to Donna, clearly imagining that she would be easy to dupe because everyone knew that women have no business sense.
They parted half an hour later with an agreement in place. Donna had procured the premises for a far lower rent than she had considered possible on the proviso that she would undertake all the necessary repairs herself. Overall, she was satisfied with the negotiations and delighted to see the back of Potts. She paused in the open doorway, absolutely convinced that she sensed a presence behind her. She looked but there was nothing there other than a thick layer of dust and a cluster of spiders’ webs.
Shaking off the feeling, she followed Miriam down the weed-strewn path.
‘You ought to have let him organise the repairs,’ Miriam scolded as they climbed into their hired gig and Donna took up the ribbons.
‘You imagine that they would have been done proficiently?’ she asked, raising a brow. ‘Or that we would have procured the premises so cheaply if he had.’
Miriam grunted as the cob between the shafts moved forward at a plodding trot. ‘I take your point.’
‘Besides, I would prefer to be mistress of my own domain, such as it is, and not have strangers intruding. They would talk about us and …’
‘I understand, pet.’ Miriam patted Donna’s gloved hand.
‘We shall have to find a stranger trustworthy enough to do all the things that we cannot, I suppose. Apart from anything else, that roof requires repair before the onset of winter.’If my business keeps me here that long.‘But at least we will be paying the men and can ensure that the work is carried out efficiently.’
‘I wonder why Potts didn’t want to reveal the identity of the owner,’ Miriam said. ‘Highly suspicious, if you ask me.’
‘Indeed, but don’t let it concern you. I don’t suppose he will want to know us, and for my part, I shall not be at home if he does call.’
‘And the earl?’
‘Oh, I doubt the cottage is part of his estate. Potts wouldn’t have been able to resist boasting if he represented such a great man’s interests, odious sycophant that he is. I shall reserve judgement on the earl until I meet him, although I doubt whether our paths will cross.’ Donna sighed as she slowed the cob to walking pace and steered him round an especially deep rut in the road. ‘No, we shall be left well alone here in the depths of the country, and that’s just the way that I want it to remain, at least for now. When I’ve licked my wounds and am ready to face up to … well, you know what I must do. But I shall only act when the time is right.’
Donna drove the cob down Arndale’s main street, feeling the sharp sea breeze on her cheek as it blew the drizzle across the muddy road. She turned into the mews adjoining the Ship and Anchortavern where she and Miriam had taken a room and hired the services of the obliging cob.
A groom ran up to take the creature’s head. Donna thanked him as she alighted, closely followed by Miriam who would, Donna knew, be scowling at any male who had the audacity to look at Donna too closely or for too long, hoping for a glimpse of her ankles as she lifted her skirts. What the male fascination for ankles could possibly be Donna had never been able to understand. She considered them to be bony protrusions best left covered, but then she understood little about the male psyche.
Not that anyone here was likely to look at her in the same way that they had in Jamaica, when she was dressed to the nines and her husband had been anxious to show her off as though she was a part of his valuable art collection. A collection that appeared to have … well, disappeared along with a great deal more of his estate, but that was not a situation Donna had any intention of dwelling upon at present. She had her priorities, which were to establish herself somewhere safe before she delved into the mysterious circumstances of her husband’s death, to say nothing of his missing fortune.
They entered the tavern by the side door, thus avoiding being seen by the occupants of the taproom ? an exclusively male bastion. It was likely to be crowded at this time of day with men who would become increasingly raucous as the ale took hold. Indeed, she could hear loud voices and coarse language emerging from that direction already. Miriam tutted, just as Donna knew she would.
‘Men must let off steam somewhere,’ she told her maid. ‘Don’t let it concern you. I have heard a great deal worse, and I assure you that I shall not be shocked into a swoon.’
‘Even so, you ought not to have to put up with it. You’re a grand lady. It ain’t right and I’ve a mind to tear them off a strip.’
She would do it too, Donna knew, suppressing a smile. ‘I’m not so grand anymore, Miriam. Besides, I would prefer it if I wasn’t mistaken for whatever I once was.’
Miriam grunted. ‘Even so …’
Mrs Cooper, the landlord’s wife, appeared from the bowels of the tavern, wiping her hands on her apron.
