the delicate china cups, then offered them plates of watercress sandwiches and carraway-seed cake. They were not able to eat a thing.
Audra was the first one to speak up, after Aunt Alicia had delivered her devastating news about their impecunious state. ‘What’s going to happen to us? Are we to be sent to the workhouse?’ she asked in a small but curiously steady voice, fixing Alicia Drummond with a penetrating stare.
Great-Aunt Frances, shocked, exclaimed, ‘Of course not, dear child!’ and then she reached out and patted Audra’s hand. She was a much nicer person than her daughter, and she continued in a kindly tone, ‘I’m too old to take you in, I’m afraid. However, you will all come and live here at The Grange. Your Aunt Alicia and Uncle Percival have very generously offered to provide a good home for the three of you.’
The Kenton children, with no other living relatives, had been obliged to accept this offer, dubious though they were about moving in with the Drummonds. After only a few days at The Grange they realized just how much they were going to detest living there.
The large Victorian mansion, situated between West Tanfield and Ripon, was as cold and as forbidding as Alicia Drummond herself, who was also a snobbish, bigoted, avaricious and crafty woman. The house was run on ludicrous timetables; the rules were rigid; the atmosphere was depressing and unpleasant; the food mediocre at best. The Kenton children had been brought up with a great deal of love, understanding and freedom by a woman who was also an excellent cook, and they were shocked by life at The Grange.
A week after Edith Kenton’s funeral, some of her furniture and other possessions from High Cleugh were sold at the auction rooms in Ripon, to pay for her funeral expenses and settle her debts. At least, this is what her children were told by their aunt. The best pieces of furniture, a number of good paintings, and choice items of silver were removed to The Grange by Alicia Drummond. ‘I shall be happy to store these things for you until you are old enough to have them,’ she had explained to the three young Kentons.
Despite the fact that this sounded reasonable enough to Frederick and William, Audra, who was far brighter than her brothers, did not trust the woman. And her distrust only increased when, several days later, she noticed her mother’s things appearing in various rooms of her aunt’s house. And so that night, when everyone was asleep, she had crept down the corridor to the room which Frederick and William shared. She had awakened her brothers, and, curling up at the bottom of Frederick’s bed, she expressed her concern to them both, whispered that they must make an inventory of all of their mother’s possessions which were now in this house.
William, who knew Audra was much cleverer than he or his brother, nodded in agreement. But Frederick blanched in alarm, afraid that they would be thrown out if they so much as put one foot wrong. ‘She’ll take offence,’ he whispered back, frowning. ‘We can’t do it, Audra. It would be throwing aspersions on her character – as if we think she’s dishonest.’
Sweeping aside his protestations, Audra hissed, ‘I’m sure she is, so we must do it. To protect ourselves. And what about Mother’s jewellery? The sapphires in particular? Does she have those too, Frederick?’
Frederick shook his head vehemently. ‘No, she doesn’t, and that I know for an absolute fact. But they have disappeared. I looked everywhere for them the day after Mother died, and to no avail. When I was searching her drawers I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t seen her wear them since Uncle Peter’s death. She must have sold them, Audra, and used the money to help support us over the past year. It’s the only possible solution.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about the sapphires before now?’ Audra demanded in a low but fierce voice, throwing him a reproachful look.
‘Because I didn’t want to worry you,’ Frederick hissed back, and then. his voice sank as he added, ‘But Aunt Alicia does have Mother’s other jewellery. She took the box away from me…for safekeeping, she said.’
Although she had faithfully promised Frederick she would not do anything rash, and so risk incurring their aunt’s disfavour, Audra was determined, nevertheless, to have her own way about the inventory. Alicia Drummond did not intimidate her, but after thinking it through she wisely decided to bide her time, to wait for the right moment to introduce the subject to her aunt. This had presented itself much sooner than Audra had anticipated.
At the end of that same week, on Sunday, Great-Aunt Frances returned with them for lunch after church services. And it was the old lady herself who inadvertently gave Audra the perfect opportunity. They were all seated in the dark and depressing library, where Uncle Percival proceeded to pour careful glasses of sherry for the adults, when unexpectedly their great-aunt brought up the matter of Edith Kenton’s jewellery.
Out of the blue, she said, ‘I think Audra is old enough to have something of dear Edith’s, a memento of her mother. Perhaps the cameo brooch. Please be kind enough to fetch me Edith’s jewellery box, Alicia.’ Aunt Alicia, tight-lipped and sheathing her annoyance, did so.
Smiling at Audra warmly, the old lady took out the cameo and pinned it on the front of her summer frock. ‘Take care of it, child, it was a favourite of your mother’s,’ she said.
Audra promised that she would, and thanked her great-aunt for allowing her to have it now. Then she shrewdly seized the moment. ‘Frederick, William, come and look at Mother’s jewellery. You must have your share of it when we grow up.’
As her two brothers joined her at their great-aunt’s side, Audra exclaimed to Frederick, ‘Perhaps I ought to make a list of these things, so that we can talk about them later, and decide what we’d each like to have. That’s only fair, isn’t it, Frederick?’
There was a startled silence.
Frederick gaped at her, aghast, and bit his lip worriedly, knowing full well what she next had in mind. William tried to hide his delight in her audacity without succeeding; his eyes danced mischievously.
And then, before anyone could make a comment, Audra ran to the desk, found a pencil and scrap paper, and returned to her great-aunt’s chair, where she pored over the box. At one moment, as she scribbled away, Audra looked up at the silver-haired old lady, and remarked in an off-hand manner, ‘Great-Aunt Frances, do you think I should also list Mother’s furniture and her possessions which Aunt Alicia is storing for us here? You know, so that my brothers and I can divide everything else properly.’
Great-Aunt Frances gave her a surprised look and then she smiled slightly. ‘Well, Audra, you are a practical child, it seems. I think that’s an excellent idea, especially since poor dear Edith did not think to make a will. This way the three of you can discuss the division of your mother’s property at leisure, and make your decisions. Why don’t you take an inventory next week, my dear.’
Audra nodded solemnly, camouflaging her triumph behind a bland expression. ‘Yes, I think I will, Great-Aunt. ’
In the days which followed this conversation, Frederick, quaking in his boots, had warned Audra that there were bound to be repercussions. He had noticed the calculating look in Aunt Alicia Drummond’s mean little black eyes when they had all been in the library, even if his brother and sister had not.
But nothing untoward had happened in the end, and the long, hot summer had slithered into a cool autumn; then winter had come finally, and life at The Grange had continued uneventfully. And as miserable as the Kentons were in the cold and unloving environment of their aunt’s home, even Audra felt bound to agree with William, her favourite, that they were fortunate in one respect: the three of them were together, they had each other to love, and for companionship and consolation.
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