Page 31 of The Vanished

He had been the Bellamys’ chauffeur since before the war, one of the few men to remain behind when nearly everyone else either enlisted or was later called up. Grady was a conscientious objector, and, although he had endured no small amount of abuse—both verbal and physical—for his refusal to fight, he had never once wavered in his convictions.

“I can do it,” Geneva replied chirpily.

“Come now, Lady Geneva,” Grady chided her. “Allow me to help you while I still can.”

She turned to look at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

Grady smiled regretfully. “I don’t suppose his lordship has told you, but I’ve handed in my notice. I leave in a fortnight.”

“Leave? But where are you going?”

“I’ve accepted a position in Ulverston, my lady, as a chauffeur for Mr. Bolton. The gentleman is afflicted with gout and can no longer get around on his own. I reckon the job will see me through until I’m ready to retire.”

“I will be sorry to see you go,” Geneva said.

And she would be, but she could understand. Her father had not left the house in weeks, and Geneva preferred to drive herself and Honor when they went out. These days, Grady’s only passengers were the housekeeper and the cook, whom he drove into the village on their days off for a spot of shopping and a chinwag with their lifelong friends.

“I heard about the entailment, my lady,” he said. “I expect everyone will be forced to leave before long.”

“Mr. Bellamy might wish to keep the current staff,” Geneva replied, but the reassurance sounded hollow, even to herself.

Why would a young American businessman wish to keep her father’s aging retainers when he could bring in his own people? And that was assuming he even opted to stay. What if he sold the lot as soon as Douglas breathed his last and returned to the States?

“Nah, I doubt that,” Grady said, echoing her own thoughts. “The young gentleman will want to bring in his own people, and rightly so, my lady. In time, you’ll come to see it his way.”

Geneva supposed the staff had speculated about the outcome of Jesseph’s visit and her own role in the future of Bellamy Hall. It was inevitable. It was nearly impossible to keep anything from the staff, and, whereas some might choose to ride it out and see what happened, others would see to their own futures and seek a new situation.

“I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Grady,” Geneva said once he’d cranked the engine and stowed the crank in the glovebox.

“And I you, my lady. You be careful now.” Grady tipped his cap and stood aside as Geneva got into the car and prepared to leave.

As she pulled out of the garage, she saw Honor at her bedroom window. Even from a distance, her sister looked angry, and she stuck out her tongue and turned her back as Geneva drove past. Her sister’s juvenile reaction made her feel awful. She was the one behaving like a child and sneaking out before Honor was up and could ask to come along. It was selfish and unkind. She’d take her out on Saturday. And maybe buy her a pre-Christmas present to cheer her up and also to apologize for her insensitive behavior.

TWENTY-ONE

Geneva’s misery dissipated once she drove through the gates and down the empty lane. It was bitterly cold, but the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the shackles of sadness and guilt began to loosen once she left the estate grounds. It was as if she could leave all her problems at the house and become someone else entirely when she went out. Of course, that was the furthest thing from the truth, mostly because everyone in Ravenglass had known her since the day she was born. She was Lady Geneva Bellamy, and she had to play her part, lest she embarrass the family. But she suddenly felt rebellious. She wanted to do something that made her feel young and carefree and in charge of her own life.

When she arrived in the village, the main street was unusually crowded with pedestrians, motorized vehicles, and horse-drawn carts. Christmas was in a fortnight, and everyone was either placing their orders with the butcher, the greengrocer, and the wine merchant, or collecting the orders they had already placed and stocking their shelves in time for the holiday.

Geneva parked the car and walked down the street to Mr. Hale’s shop. He had just opened up and was arranging the window display. There were a few important pieces, the gold and gemstones winking in the sunlight. He also made sure to display simple, affordable items that would make lovely gifts for the wives and sweethearts of the local men.

“Good morning, Mr. Hale,” Geneva said as she entered the shop.

“Good morning to you, my lady. You’re out early today.”

“Father asked me to collect the watch he ordered.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll just get it for you.”

Mr. Hale stepped into the back, and Geneva studied the items in the glass-fronted counter. One particular piece caught her attention. It was a gold bangle fashioned in the shape of a serpent devouring its own tail. An emerald gleamed where the snake’s eye would be, and its back shimmered with a dusting of tiny diamonds. The bracelet brought to mind Estelle Taylor, the American film star Geneva had seen in Monte Cristo at the Empire in London. Cousin Rose—who had been allowed to join them at the cinema—had remarked that Geneva might resemble the actress herself, if only she were not so prim.

“Can I show you something, my lady?” Mr. Hale, ever the salesman, asked as he positioned himself behind the counter.

“I was just admiring the snake bangle, but I don’t think I can afford it. It’s stunning, though,” Geneva said wistfully.

Mr. Hale smiled happily. “The stones are paste, and I would be happy to sell it to you at cost. Your family has given me so much custom over the years.”

“Really?” Geneva exclaimed. “How much?”