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Authors: Kerry Tombs
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Ravenscroft,’ said Alice drawing her shawl over her head once more as she rose from the sofa.
‘As I said, my husband is investigating a case over in Droitwich at the moment, so it may be a few days before he can go to Cheltenham.’
‘I understand ma’am. I cannot thank you enough,’ replied Alice.
‘Now you are not to worry,’ said Lucy reassuringly placing her fingers on the girl’s hand. ‘As soon as we have any news we will let you know. Brewster’s farm at Wellington Heath, I think you said?’
‘Yes ma’am. Oh thank you so much, Mrs Ravenscroft. You have put my mind at ease.’
‘Susan, will you show Miss Corbett out please.’
Lucy watched as her visitor left the room, then she sat down on the chair deep in thought.
‘The poor woman,’ said Susan returning to the room. ‘To think she had to give up that poor mite.’
‘Yes Susan, it is a very sad state of affairs. She must have been desperate to surrender her young child in such a fashion.’
‘Still I suppose Mr Ravenscroft will soon be able to get to the bottom of it.’
‘Yes, I expect so – although I think he will be very busy in Droitwich for the rest of the day.’
‘The poor woman,’ repeated the maid shaking her head. ‘Pity we could not help her sooner, Mrs Ravenscroft.’
Lucy thought deeply for a moment.
‘Susan, fetch me Bradshaws. Let us see when the next train leaves for Cheltenham. Would you mind looking after Master Richard and Master Arthur for the rest of the day – and then looking out my new grey coat and hat?’
Later that afternoon Lucy turned away from the busy area of Montpellier with its elequant buildings, wide roads, horse-drawn vehicles and busy shoppers, and found herself walking down a secluded tree-lined road. After going on some steps, the road abruptly opened out into a strangely quiet oasis of calm, that declared itself to be Suffolk Square. Here the rows of five storey houses gazed sedately at one another fromopposite sides of the square. The late afternoon sun shone fitfully on the spacious pavements, as a light breeze blew the remnants of last year’s leaves along the road. Lucy could see three small boys were engaged in a game of hide and seek behind the railings of a small enclosed park, from where a young woman was visible, gently pushing a pram back and forth beneath the trees.
Removing the blue folded paper from her purse and reading the address once more, Lucy made her way past several buildings, until she reached a brass plate with the number 22 neatly engraved into its surface. She reached out and raised the ornate knocker, but before she could bring it down upon the wood, she found the door suddenly opening before her.
‘Good afternoon. I wonder if Mrs Huddlestone is at home?’
‘I’m afraid you must have the wrong address miss. This is number 22,’ replied the young housemaid.
‘No, I believe I have the correct address. I was told that Mr and Mrs Huddlestone resided here.’
‘You are mistaken, miss. This house belongs to Miss Jameson and her sister.’
‘And how long have they lived here?’ persisted Lucy.
‘For nearly thirty years I believe; long before I came.’
‘I see. Perhaps you know of someone else with the name of Huddlestone who lives in the square?’ asked Lucy hopefully.
‘I’m sorry miss, I know of no one in this neighbourhood called Huddlestone, although there was a young girl, now I think about it, who knocked on the door last week, who was asking to see the same person,’ replied the housemaid, a puzzled expression on her face.
‘I wonder if it might be possible to speak to your mistress?’
‘I don’t know about that, miss. Mistress is not taken to receiving unannounced visitors.’
‘It is a very urgent matter. I would be very much obliged,’ pleaded Lucy.
‘Well I suppose I could ask, miss.’
‘Thank you,’ smiled Lucy.
‘Whom shall I say is calling?’
‘My name is Mrs Ravenscroft. My husband is a police
‘As I said, my husband is investigating a case over in Droitwich at the moment, so it may be a few days before he can go to Cheltenham.’
‘I understand ma’am. I cannot thank you enough,’ replied Alice.
‘Now you are not to worry,’ said Lucy reassuringly placing her fingers on the girl’s hand. ‘As soon as we have any news we will let you know. Brewster’s farm at Wellington Heath, I think you said?’
‘Yes ma’am. Oh thank you so much, Mrs Ravenscroft. You have put my mind at ease.’
‘Susan, will you show Miss Corbett out please.’
Lucy watched as her visitor left the room, then she sat down on the chair deep in thought.
‘The poor woman,’ said Susan returning to the room. ‘To think she had to give up that poor mite.’
‘Yes Susan, it is a very sad state of affairs. She must have been desperate to surrender her young child in such a fashion.’
‘Still I suppose Mr Ravenscroft will soon be able to get to the bottom of it.’
‘Yes, I expect so – although I think he will be very busy in Droitwich for the rest of the day.’
‘The poor woman,’ repeated the maid shaking her head. ‘Pity we could not help her sooner, Mrs Ravenscroft.’
Lucy thought deeply for a moment.
‘Susan, fetch me Bradshaws. Let us see when the next train leaves for Cheltenham. Would you mind looking after Master Richard and Master Arthur for the rest of the day – and then looking out my new grey coat and hat?’
Later that afternoon Lucy turned away from the busy area of Montpellier with its elequant buildings, wide roads, horse-drawn vehicles and busy shoppers, and found herself walking down a secluded tree-lined road. After going on some steps, the road abruptly opened out into a strangely quiet oasis of calm, that declared itself to be Suffolk Square. Here the rows of five storey houses gazed sedately at one another fromopposite sides of the square. The late afternoon sun shone fitfully on the spacious pavements, as a light breeze blew the remnants of last year’s leaves along the road. Lucy could see three small boys were engaged in a game of hide and seek behind the railings of a small enclosed park, from where a young woman was visible, gently pushing a pram back and forth beneath the trees.
Removing the blue folded paper from her purse and reading the address once more, Lucy made her way past several buildings, until she reached a brass plate with the number 22 neatly engraved into its surface. She reached out and raised the ornate knocker, but before she could bring it down upon the wood, she found the door suddenly opening before her.
‘Good afternoon. I wonder if Mrs Huddlestone is at home?’
‘I’m afraid you must have the wrong address miss. This is number 22,’ replied the young housemaid.
‘No, I believe I have the correct address. I was told that Mr and Mrs Huddlestone resided here.’
‘You are mistaken, miss. This house belongs to Miss Jameson and her sister.’
‘And how long have they lived here?’ persisted Lucy.
‘For nearly thirty years I believe; long before I came.’
‘I see. Perhaps you know of someone else with the name of Huddlestone who lives in the square?’ asked Lucy hopefully.
‘I’m sorry miss, I know of no one in this neighbourhood called Huddlestone, although there was a young girl, now I think about it, who knocked on the door last week, who was asking to see the same person,’ replied the housemaid, a puzzled expression on her face.
‘I wonder if it might be possible to speak to your mistress?’
‘I don’t know about that, miss. Mistress is not taken to receiving unannounced visitors.’
‘It is a very urgent matter. I would be very much obliged,’ pleaded Lucy.
‘Well I suppose I could ask, miss.’
‘Thank you,’ smiled Lucy.
‘Whom shall I say is calling?’
‘My name is Mrs Ravenscroft. My husband is a police
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