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If the boredom evident on Beatrice’s face was anything to go by, she felt exactly the same.
Luckily, the rain appeared to have stopped now, which was a shame given that there was no reason for him not to go home now. He glanced at the clock and was shocked to note that it was well past tea-time, and neither of them had stopped for lunch yet. Although they had drunk large volumes of tea, and had demolished the large slices of fruit cake hours ago, neither of them had really taken a proper, well-earned break. His stomach rumbled loudly and he threw her an apologetic glance, to which she smiled.
“Would you like to stay for dinner with me?” She had the good grace to look rather sheepish. “I am afraid that I completely forgot about luncheon.”
Ben opened his mouth to speak only for the rattle of the front door to stop him. He glanced at Beatrice and lifted his brows but, before he could stand up, several light taps were rapped out and Beatrice’s face suddenly lit up.
“That’s Maud. I bet she has raced home now that the rain has stopped.”
He immediately let the woman in.
“Hello, Mrs Partridge,” he said when the housekeeper appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, hello, Mr Addison. What a surprise it is to see you here,” the housekeeper replied warily. “Is everything alright?”
Ben briefly explained what had happened to Beatrice on the way home that had resulted in her injury, and nodded toward the foot she had propped up on the table.
“Well, I never,” Maud gasped. “It comes to something when you cannot even walk the country lanes anymore, doesn’t it?”
“Did you see any sign of the carriage in the lane?”
Maud shook her head as she gathered the tea things up and lifted the tray off the table. “I didn’t see anybody, sorry. Now then, I take it that you are staying for dinner, Mr Addison? We have a lovely roast beef joint with vegetables straight out of the garden.” She didn’t bother to stop to wait for Ben to agree, and hurried out of the room without a backward look.
“Sorry,” Beatrice said ruefully. “She tends to get a bit carried away sometimes.”
“No, it’s fine. Dinner would be lovely.”
He got the feeling that although Maud Partridge was ‘officially’ the housekeeper, the relationship she had with Beatrice, went far beyond that of employer and employee. Theirs was a relationship that ran more along the lines of companions and friends. Whatever their relationship, Ben was just that that Mrs Partridge lived there and Beatrice wasn’t left vulnerable and alone overnight.
Beatrice struggled to contain her delight at the thought that Ben would share dinner with her. She felt incredibly guilty as it was for not being able to offer him more than tea and cake throughout the afternoon but, with her injured ankle, she daren’t trust herself to carry a hot kettle, let alone the pots and pans she would need to cook a meal. Besides, Maud was just as territorial over her kitchen as her uncle had been over his study. She would have a fit if Beatrice messed with her pots and pans while she was away.
She settled back in her chair and picked up another book.
“Rare and Tropical Plant Species by Harry Toddington,” she read aloud and shared a rueful look with Ben.
It looked as interesting as mud but, nevertheless, she opened the front cover. Everything within her froze and she frowned down at the single sheet of paper that stared up at her. She didn’t even pick it up as she read the list of names and addresses written in bold script that was most definitely in her uncle’s handwriting.
Jules Sanders, Rydal Hove, Church Street, Great Tipton.
Richard Browning, 3 Carlton Terrace, Marchwell Bishop.
Brian Mottram, Belleview Cottage, Abercrome Street, Great Tipton.
Bernard Murray, No. 9 Church View, Main Street, Tipton Hollow.
“Ben,” Beatrice whispered as she read the names for the third time. Alarm settled deep in the pit of her stomach and she knew that she had just found something of real significance. What it was significant to she wasn’t quite sure yet, but she knew that the piece of paper in her hand just changed everything.
“I wonder if one of these men sent you the plant,” Ben murmured and frowned down at the names while he mentally plotted where each house would be. “Do you know if they are all botanists?”
Beatrice shook her head. “I am afraid that I have absolutely no idea.” She sat back in her chair with a disgusted sigh. “It is only now that I realise just how much my uncle kept me on the periphery of his life. I have no idea if any of these people were good friends of his, mere acquaintances, or people he just sourced out of a book somewhere.”
“Well, luckily they are all in this area, so it shouldn’t take too much effort to trace each individual and see if they had any connection to your uncle.” Ben nodded at the book she had apparently forgotten was still in her lap. “Any sign of the plant in there?”
Beatrice frowned at him for a moment before she stared blankly down at the open pages. “I haven’t had a look yet.”
To her utter consternation, the pages of the book opened to reveal a second sheet of paper which contained symbols, scribbled writing, and what looked like more Latin names. There was no proper drawing of the plant, but enough notes and ad hoc diagrams to assure her that what she held were cultivation notes for something. She looked down at the page where the paper had been carefully stored.
“Orchids,” she whispered, and felt herself go cold when she saw the carefully illustrated orchid on the page before her. “This one is a beautiful purple colour, but I think what we have is an orchid. Ophris Speculum; never heard of it.” She tipped her head and studied the picture. “Although the flower we have is different, the stem sketched in here is identical.” She turned the book around so Ben could study the illustration.
