Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection. Josephine Cox

indignation. ‘Not at all! She’s a fine lady, is our Miss Witherington … even if she is a better cook than myself. I mean, what do I care if she’s got her own lodging-house?’ He sighed longingly. ‘Mind you, I’ve got to admit, all o’ that does make her just the weeniest bit more attractive, especially to a mature man like meself, who prefers the finer things in life.’

      At that very moment, the woman in question was upstairs in an otherwise empty office, in deep conversation with the solicitor. ‘You’ve caused a bad atmosphere between me and the auctioneer,’ Mr Leatherhead told her worriedly. ‘I don’t know why you couldn’t have just given Hanley the land and be done with it!’

      ‘You know very well why,’ she retaliated. ‘I don’t want anyone finding out that the land belonged to me. Nor do I want Mr Hanley to feel beholden to me. It was best that I had no involvement in it.’ She smiled. ‘It all worked out well, and if for nothing else, I thank you for that much at least.’

      She fastened the buttons of her coat. ‘I’d best be away now,’ she said. ‘I don’t want them getting back to the house afore I do.’ A mischievous grin lifted her face. ‘I shall have to look suitably surprised and delighted when I hear the good news.’

      The moment Harriet had gone, Leatherhead hurried downstairs to the office where the auctioneer was worriedly pacing the floor. When the door opened, Tilbrook immediately vented his anger on the older man. ‘I could lose everything if this ever came out!’ he expostulated. ‘My job, and my good name!’

      ‘There’s no danger of that.’ Releasing the catches on his Gladstone bag, the solicitor removed a bottle of best whisky. He seized two tumblers from the shelf and poured them both a stiff drink. ‘It all came out well in the end, with nobody any the wiser.’ Handing the other man a glass, he urged, ‘Come on, Tilbrook, drink up. Before number sixteen rushes in here, wanting his prize.’

      Swallowing his drink, Tilbrook gasped as the liquid went down. ‘In all the years I’ve worked at this game, I’ve never been known to end a sale before the bidding was finished.’ He looked at the older man with stricken eyes. ‘Maybe we should have called her bluff.’

      Leatherhead shook his head. ‘Nay. Harriet Witherington is no fool.’

      ‘Why didn’t she show her hand before now?’

      The solicitor had wondered the same.

      ‘I can’t work it out myself, and she’s never confided in me on that score,’ he answered. ‘All I know is, after years of living a modest life right under our noses – and I’m quite sure she must have known that her Aunt Amy had left her that land – she came to me with proof of her identity. All her papers were in order, and she knew what had been left to her, better than I did. That were two months ago. She wanted us to sell the job-lot by auction, so she could put the money away for an easy old age. Next thing I know, she’s back in my office, saying we’ve got to let that young pup Hanley acquire the land for a mere forty-one guineas when it’s worth so much more. How could I refuse? She’d known all along that we’d been plundering her inheritance, selling off the contents of that cottage a bit at a time, and she’ll not shrink from exposing us both if we should so much as hint to that young man that she’s had any part in this.’ Leatherhead lifted his glass and drank down the rest of his whisky.

      ‘She’s a sharp one, I know that,’ Tilbrook agreed. ‘Sitting tight while we dug ourselves into a deeper hole, and then coming forward just when we thought we were safe.’ The auctioneer shivered. ‘I’m telling you, all this is beginning to shatter my nerves.’

      ‘Pull yourself together, man!’ The solicitor poured them both another drink.

      His colleague appeared not to be listening. Instead he was thinking of every way she might get at them even now. ‘How can we be certain she still won’t come after us? There were some fine paintings and pieces of Regency silver in storage from that cottage – and we both got a good few quid out of that.’

      ‘Because when she insisted that I make certain the property was knocked down to that young man, she promised to look the other way over our misdemeanours.’

      ‘Is it watertight, that’s what I want to know?’

      Leatherhead gave a sly little grin. ‘We’re both in the clear, that’s all you need to know. And now I’d better be off. Here are the signed documents you’ll need from Miss Witherington.’ With a triumphant flourish, the solicitor withdrew the sheafs of paper from his pocket and threw them on the desk. ‘Signed, sealed and delivered. And now I really must go. A very good day to you, Bertram. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you!’

      The fat man’s laughter had only just died away when John knocked on the door. Feeling more confident after skimreading the documents, the auctioneer sat up straight, put on his best smile, and called John inside.

      ‘I’m here for the deeds to my property.’ John placed his wad of notes and coins nervously on the desk. ‘You’ll find it all there, every penny.’

      Archie stood directly beside him, grinning from ear to ear. ‘You did well, son,’ he kept saying. ‘You did real well.’

      As for John, he was still dazed at the speed of events, and the subsequent outcome. The site was his! He could hardly believe it, even now. It was his future; his wildest dream come true.

      Yet the glory of the day was deeply marred by Emily’s absence. He needed her like he had never needed her before. He wanted her so much to be by his side, to share in this day, and all the days to come.

      But she was content with her new man. She had no more need of John Hanley. It was a stark and lonely realisation.

      ‘John!’ Archie dug him in the ribs. ‘The gentleman’s waiting for your signature.’

      Emerging from his deep thoughts of Emily, John apologised.

      ‘Sorry. I was miles away.’ Leaning forward, John took the gold fountain pen from Tilbrook’s outstretched hand.

      ‘It’s not surprising that you are feeling somewhat bemused,’ the other man remarked condescendingly. ‘You’ve got yourself a valuable commodity there, at a very good price. In fact, you could probably sell it on the open market right now, for a deuced good profit.’

      John signed his name and returned the pen. ‘Not me,’ he replied decidedly. ‘It’s not a quick profit I’m looking for, but somewhere to build a business that I can be proud of.’

      ‘What kind of business would that be, if you don’t mind me asking?’

      Here, John saw his chance. ‘You might put the word out,’ he suggested. ‘I’m a skilled carpenter and joiner. I repair and build wagons, carts and barges. I can bend a piece of wood to any shape or form, so whatever the customer wants, I’ll provide.’

      The auctioneer was not impressed. ‘Not my line of interest,’ he said curtly. ‘But I wish you well.’ In fact, he couldn’t care one way or the other whether John sank or swam. ‘That’s our business concluded.’ He handed John the deeds, and held out his hand for a farewell shake. ‘Good day to you.’

      John swiftly reminded him of the receipt, which Tilbrook scribbled out and shoved across the desk to him.

      A few moments later, with receipt and deeds safely in his possession, John led Archie out of the building. ‘Another surly stuck-up bugger!’ Archie thrust his hands into his pockets and began to sulk.

      Smiling, John waved the deeds under his nose. ‘To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t care if he was the most miserable fellow on God’s earth,’ he joked. ‘Look at me, Archie! One minute I’m standing on the site, wishing and hoping, and the next minute, I’m holding the deeds in my hot little hand.’

      Archie gave him a slap on the back. ‘You’re right, matey! It’s time to celebrate!’

      John agreed, but, ‘First we must make our way back to the lodgings and tell Harriet the good news. Then