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Authors: Richmal Crompton

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BOOK: William The Conqueror
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But suddenly she found that she needed Mrs Bott. She was holding a charity
fête
in her grounds and found herself hampered on all sides by lack of funds.

‘Ask Mrs Bott to be on the committee,’ said her neighbours. ‘She’ll stock every stall in the place. She’s made of money, and she loves throwing it about as long as
it makes a splash.’

At first old Lady Markham had merely laughed scornfully. Finally she had capitulated. She was on her way to the Bott mansion now to ask Mrs Bott to be on the committee.

‘I’ve had a lovely stay with you, Gramma, darling,’ sighed Angela.

‘So glad, dear,’ said Lady Markham absently.

‘I meant to buy you a good-bye present, Gramma, darling, but I hadn’t time before we came away, so may we stop at the first shop we pass and me buy you something?’

‘Oh, no dear,’ said Lady Markham. ‘You mustn’t buy me anything.’

‘Oh, I
must! Please!
’ said Angela in distress.

‘Very well,’ said Lady Markham with a smile.

‘Then we’ll stop at the first shop we pass,’ said Angela happily.

The first shop was Mr Marsh’s.

Angela descended from the carriage and entered the shop importantly, holding a half-crown tightly in her hand.

‘Good-afternoon,’ she said. ‘Please, have you anything for two-and-six?’

The old lady took up the pearl necklace, which was still lying on the counter. ‘You can have these beads for two-and-six, missie,’ she said.

‘Oh, thank you,’ said Angela; ‘they
are
pretty.’

She danced back to the carriage.

‘I’ve got some beads for you, Gramma,’ she said. ‘You
will
wear them, won’t you?’

‘Oh, darling,’ said Lady Markham in dismay.

Angela’s face fell.

‘Oh,
Gramma
!’ she said reproachfully. ‘They’re very
good
beads. They cost two-and-sixpence.’

‘Very well, darling,’ said Lady Markham with a sigh of resignation, ‘put them on.’

Lady Markham was extremely short-sighted. All she knew was that her granddaughter had slipped a string of whitish beads round her neck. She covered them carefully with her scarf, then completely
forgot them.

The carriage stopped at the Bott mansion. Lady Markham said good-bye to her granddaughter, slipped a ten-shilling note into her hand, and descended from the carriage.

The carriage proceeded to Angela’s home and Lady Markham entered the Bott mansion.

Mrs Bott was so excited at the news that Lady Markham had called that she was afraid she was going to have hysterics and not be able to receive her. But she mastered her emotions and went to the
drawing-room, where Lady Markham was waiting.

Mrs Bott was quivering with apprehension lest she should fail to live up to this high honour done her. She had striven long and earnestly to ‘get in with’ Society as typified by Lady
Markham. She felt that the day of her dreams had come at last, with Lady Markham’s card on the tray on the hall table she could now die happy.

She hoped that Botty would stay in the study (where he was engaged in studying a novel and a cigar) and not join them in the drawing-room. Botty was a hardworking man and a good husband, but
there was no denying that he dropped his aitches. He generally picked them up as quickly as he could, but he dropped them with a bang and the picking up only drew attention to their fall.

Mrs Bott, small and plump, dressed in an expensive dress, was sitting on an expensive chair hoping that Lady Markham guessed how much they’d had to pay for it at an antique dealer’s.
She moved her hands about frequently to show her rings, and she chattered excitedly, glowing with pride and pleasure.

‘Oh, yes, Lady Markham, I’ll be on the committee with the greatest pleasure. I’ll certainly have a stall. What stall? Oh, any stall at all, Lady Markham – The provision
stall if you like. I could stock it complete out of the garding, you know. The gardeners could see to the cutting of the things and one of the chauffeurs could bring the stuff over in one of the
cars.’

It was nice to say ‘one of the chauffeurs’ and ‘one of the cars.’ The only drawback to the phrases was that they gave no inkling of how many cars there were. On the other
hand, ‘one of the three chauffeurs’ and ‘one of the seven cars’ were rather cumbersome for ordinary conversation.

‘Or the fancy stall,’ went on Mrs Bott, brightly. ‘I could stock it complete in Town – jewellery an’ leather an’ suchlike. Regardless, you know. Or I
wouldn’t mind takin’ on one or two stalls. Stockin’ ’em both. Regardless. It’s such a pleasure to work in the cause of charity, I always think. I say to
Botty—’

‘Botty?’ said her ladyship rather faintly.

‘Yes, Botty. My hubby. I say to him, “Why is all this here boundless wealth given to us, I say, except to give others a leg up?” Believe me, Lady Markham, when I had a stall at
the
fête
here – crowded it was – of course, our garding holds
hundreds –
I spent six hundred pounds on stuff for the stall. I did, indeed, and didn’t
take a penny out of the profits for expenses either. Believe me.’

Lady Markham sat upright in her pseudo-Jacobean chair and stared in front of her. Mrs Bott was rather disappointed. Nothing friendly or chatty about her visitor, she thought . . . Didn’t
seem a bit interested in things.

‘Of course, the place is a responsibility. Forty acres. Believe me. Twenty indoor servants and ten outdoor ones. A responsibility. Not from the money point of view, of course – oh
no. We don’t have to think of that. Botty can do things regardless – but it’s the
feeling
of responsibility. Why, last week I was quite queer and I put it down to
that.’

‘Queer?’ said Lady Markham.

‘Yes, liver,’ said Mrs Bott.

‘Oh, queer . . . You mean ill.’

‘That’s right,’ said Mrs Bott. No, she wasn’t easy to talk to, thought Mrs Bott with an inward sigh. Funny how stiff some of these Society people were. Really difficult
to entertain. Nothing to say for themselves.

‘Of course,’ went on Mrs Bott, ‘it was a relief and no mistake to get the furnishing of this place off our minds. You’d hardly believe me if I told you what Botty had to
fork out for the furnishing of the place.’

She paused, but Lady Markham asked no question. Again Mrs Bott sighed to herself. Like mummies these people were. Took no interest in anything.

‘Guess how much I’ve paid for that chair you’re sitting on now.’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Lady Markham, without even looking at the chair.

‘A hundred quid. Down.’

‘Did you?’ said Lady Markham, without the slightest interest.

Perhaps, thought Mrs Bott, she took no interest because she didn’t believe that it was a real antique. Perhaps she didn’t believe that her diamonds were real. That was a horrid
thought, when Botty had paid so much for them. Then for the first time she began to notice the visitor’s jewellery. She had thrown open her scarf and revealed a string of pearls.

Very good pearls, thought Mrs Bott.

Very like her own upstairs. Very, very like her own pearls upstairs.

In her own string of pearls there was a pearl near the middle of a much darker colour than the others. There was a similar pearl here. In her own string of pearls upstairs (they were graduated
in size) there was one which always seemed to Mrs Bott to be not quite the right size. There was just such a one here. A small diamond was missing from the clasp of her own string of pearls
upstairs.

‘Allow me to draw that curting,’ said Mrs Bott. ‘The sun’s on your back.’

She slipped behind her visitor’s back to the window and drew the curtain, her eyes fastened on her visitor’s neck. Yes, the same diamond was missing. It was all Mrs Bott could do not
to scream for help. It must be – it couldn’t be – it couldn’t be – it must be – She must at all costs go up to her room and see if her pearls were there. She
collected her faculties as best she could.

‘Er – I’m sure you’d like to meet my little girl, Lady Markham,’ she said. ‘Er – I’ll – I’ll go and try to find her.’

She ran upstairs panting, her fat little face purple. Heaven’s alive! It couldn’t be – it couldn’t be – She opened her drawer and – there lay the open case
where she kept her pearls – empty. It was – it couldn’t be. But it
was –
With a firm hand she repressed another incipient attack of hysterics and went down to her
husband in the study.

‘B-B-B-B-Botty!’ she gasped. ‘She’s stolen my pearls.’

Mr Bott stared at her in amazement. He, too, was short and stout and, as a rule, amiable looking.

‘’Oo – Who ’as – has, love?’ inquired Mr Bott.

‘That Lady Markham has,’ sobbed his wife. ‘She c-c-c-called and I was in the garden and she m-m-m-m-must have slipped upstairs and t-t-t-t-taken them. They’re
g-g-g-g-gone.’

‘’Ow – how do you know
she’s
taken them, love?’ said Mr Bott.

‘She’s w-w-w-w-
wearing
them, Botty,’ sobbed Mrs Bott. ‘She’s g-g-g-g-got them on. I’ve s-s-s-seen them. The diamond’s gone out of the
c-c-c-c-clasp an’
all
!’

‘Now don’t ’ave – have – ’ysterics – hysterics, love,’ said Mr Bott soothingly.

‘B-but it
can’t
be true, Botty, can it?’ she pleaded, wiping her eyes. The sight of the real lace on her handkerchief and the thought of what it had cost soothed her
somewhat. ‘She
c-c-c-can’t
have taken them.’

Mr Bott shook his head wisely. ‘I’m afraid it’s true, love,’ he said sadly. ‘I was readin’ an article in last week’s Sunday paper, and it said there
that practically all these haristocrats – aristocrats – are dec –’ (he hunted the elusive word a minute in silence, then gave it up –) ‘decayed. Most of
’em thieves. Some of ’em – brilliant figures in Society an’ secretly the ’eads – heads – of gangs of thieves. She must be one of them.’

‘Oh, but, Botty, why should she w-w-w-w-
wear
them?’

‘Nerve,’ said Mr Bott solemnly. ‘She thought you’d never notice them. Nerve. Now, look here, old lady, go in and talk to her agreeable-like, you know, seem quite
’appy – happy – and keep her there and I’ll send for a policeman.’

‘Oh,
Botty
!’ screamed Mrs Bott. ‘You mustn’t.’

‘Yes, I must,’ said Mr Bott firmly. ‘If you’d read that article you’d feel the same as what I do now. They ought to be exposed. That’s what I feel. Decent
citizens same as what I am – ham – am – ought to show ’em up. Now you go back to her, old lady, and leave all the rest to me.’

Mrs Bott went back.

Lady Markham tried to stifle a yawn. Really, these people were amazing. The woman goes out of the room in a most peculiar and abrupt manner, stays away nearly twenty minutes and then returns in
a state that her ladyship can only diagnose as partially inebriated – red in the face and talking in a strange and disconnected fashion. Lady Markham began to wish that she had not come.
After all, they could have managed without Mrs Bott’s money. She’d had no idea these people were so peculiar.

Then suddenly the door opened and the village policeman appeared.

Now the village policeman was a youth who had lived on Lady Markham’s estate all his life and looked up to her as lower in rank (and
only just
a little lower, even so) to the Queen
alone. It was Lady Markham who had kept his grandmother out of the workhouse, had provided his mother with nurses and nourishment in her recent illness, and had been instrumental in getting him
into his present position.

He looked round the room blankly. He’d been sent in to arrest a lady who was in the drawing-room and had stolen Mrs Bott’s pearls. He looked round and round the room, gaping. It
happened that Lady Markham had sent for him that morning, but the messenger had not been able to find him.

‘Oh, Higgs,’ said her ladyship kindly, ‘you shouldn’t have come here after me. It was nothing important – only the orchard’s been robbed again. If
you’ll call at the Manor at half-past six I’ll give you all details.’ She turned to Mrs Bott. ‘Excuse his coming here after me,’ she said graciously. ‘I sent for
him about a small matter this morning and he probably thought it was urgent.’

Outside in the passage the unhappy Higgs faced a furious Mr Bott.

‘’Aven’t – haven’t – you
done
it?’ stormed Mr Bott.

‘No, sir,’ gasped Higgs. ‘There was no one there, sir. No one but Mrs Bott an’ Lady Markham, sir.’

‘But it is Lady Markham,’ stormed Mr Bott, ‘it is Lady Markham, I tell you. Didn’t you ’ear – hear – me sayin’ it was the lady with Mrs Bott.
I’ve got
proof
!’

‘Oh, no, sir,’ protested young Higgs earnestly, ‘I couldn’t do that sir. Honestly I couldn’t do that, sir.’

For answer, Mr Bott opened the drawing-room door and pushed Higgs into the room.

‘Well, Higgs?’ said her ladyship.

The miserable Higgs put his hand to his collar as if to loosen it.

‘D-d-did you say six or half-past six, your ladyship?’ he stammered.

‘Half-past six,’ said her ladyship coldly.

Higgs returned to the impatient Mr Bott.

‘Well?’ said Mr Bott.

Higgs took out a handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from his brow.

‘I can’t, sir,’ he gasped. ‘Honest, I can’t.’

‘You can and you will,’ said little Mr Bott. ‘Come in with me.’

He entered, holding Higgs by the arm. Higgs looked wildly round for escape. Lady Markham looked from one to the other in amazement.

‘Now, Higgs,’ prompted Mr Bott; but at this point a diversion took place.

Violet Elizabeth entered, followed by the four Outlaws. The four Outlaws looked sheepish. This was Violet Elizabeth’s stunt, not theirs. They had been in the wood for the last hour lying
in wait for unwary travellers, but no travellers, wary or unwary, had passed. Their sole ‘bag’ had been a tin box deposited by a naturalist in what he thought was a safe hiding place
while he went into the village for a drink.

Violet Elizabeth addressed herself to her father.

‘Do you want a thnake to make into thauth?’ she said. ‘Becauth we’ll thell you one for three shillingth.’

‘What!’ bellowed Mr Bott.

BOOK: William The Conqueror
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