Mr. Gillingham arrived at the door of 24 Astor Lane the next day at precisely half past two. He found it to be a small dingy building that smelt strongly of spirits and cats. He was admitted into the house by a stooped landlady with crooked yellow teeth and tanned, spotted skin who led Mr. Gillingham down a hall with a moth eaten carpet and dusty bookshelves. They stopped at the last door and the landlady knocked loudly on it.
"Mr. Gillingham to see you," she called out. There was an inaudible reply and she opened the door.
Mr. Gillingham stepped in and had to stifle a gasp; it was likes stepping into a dollhouse with frilly lace curtains and pale pink wallpaper. A small white and gold settee was in the centre of the room and a table covered in little lace doilies and a blue and whit tea pot sat in the centre. An enormously fat and furry ginger cat sat upon the settee and next to it sat a woman in a bright yellow dress. Her hair was pinned up and her face was very pale except for her cheeks which were covered in rouge. Her small red lips smiled as Mr. Gillingham entered the room and she rose to her feet, extending her hand.
"Mr. Gillingham how do you d0?" She asked, as he bent to kiss her hand, smelling the perfume that came off her and made him sick.
"Miss Wentworth," he said, straightening up.
"Sit down darling, I am so pleased to meet you. How can I help you?" She asked, sitting on the settee. He took a seat on the red velvet armchair across from her and she leaned forward, revealing more of her ample bosom than he wished to see.
"Miss Wentworth, I am here to quire about your sister Edna," he said.
"Edna?" She asked, suddenly very emotional. "Edna? How dare you ask me about her?" Victoria Wentworth leapt to her feet, shaking with emotion. "She is a stain to the Wentworth name! How dare you bring her up!" she crumpled onto the settee and Mr. Gillingham leapt to his feet, very alarmed.
"Miss Wentworth, I assure you I meant not harm," he went to her side, fanning her face as her eyelids fluttered.
"Miss Wentworth, are you alright?" He asked and she smiled faintly though he didn't notice.
"Yes, yes I believe I am. But never bring my sister up again."
"I am sorry, I only wanted to know if she lived?"
"I, I," she swallowed, blinking rapidly. "No. She died last summer."
"Did she leave anything behind?"
"Yes. Why?"
"I am a lawyer and I need information on the late Laura Carter."
"Laura Carter?" Miss Wentworth's wide blue eyes narrowed at this. "I have a notebook that my sister kept. Nothing important that I can see though. I do have a collection of letters from Laura to Edna though," Miss Wentworth said. She had dropped the dramatic layer and was all business, her back very straight, her eyes shifting from place to place.
"May I see them?" He asked. She stood and went through a door in the back, returning almost instantly with a bundle of papers and a notebook. She passed them to Mr. Gillingham who looked through the diary first and found nothing; just drawings and some poetry. The letters however proved to be more useful. There were four written in August 1837 and the first one claimed that: I have given birth to Lord Graham's daughter, dear God help me. I gave her to Peter and he says he'll treat her as his own. Help me Edna, I cannot manage all this, it is too much.
Mr. Gillingham looked up at Miss Wentworth who was sitting and looking at him expectantly.
"Is Henrietta Graham Laura's daughter?"
YOU ARE READING
Saving June (Book 3)
Historical Fiction'Yes, in the course of two weeks we've lost our childhood. I know that we are adults in age but really we were playing with something we knew nothing about and we were careless. We played with love and we've paid the price.' Ann said sadly. 'I sup...
