too effusively.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Phelps.” Mr. Jensen folded his hands upon his desk and assumed a businesslike demeanor. “I will try not to keep Vicar Phelps waiting too long. This morning, Mrs. Latrell received a wire from her widowed sister in Northumberland. I gather the sister is lonely, for she has asked Mrs. Latrell to move in with her as soon as possible. The chambermaids are assisting her in packing, and Mr. Herrick will deliver her to Shrewsbury in the morning.”
“I see.” Julia was not as well acquainted with Mrs. Latrell as with the other lodgers, simply because she had married and moved out before the woman’s arrival. But she could understand how a sister would find solace in her cheerful disposition. “Of course she must go. I’ll slip upstairs and speak with her as soon as I leave you.”
“She has offered to pay next month’s lodgings for having given such short notice.”
“Do you think that is necessary?” Julia asked him. “We still have those other inquiries, haven’t we?” They were responses to the advertisements that had been posted in several English newspapers almost a year ago when Mrs. Kingston was on the verge of becoming Mrs. Bartley. Mrs. Latrell’s letter had arrived first. After it was arranged that she would take the room, Mr. Jensen had sent at least two dozen letters of regret, but surely one of those who had inquired would still be interested in the Larkspur .
“We have indeed, Mrs. Phelps,” Mr. Jensen replied. He picked up a sheet of stationery and leaned forward to hand it across the desk. “But I would like you to see a letter that arrived only yesterday.”
Julia set the fine vellum paper on the desk in front of her to smooth out the folds, then held it out in front of her to read the bold script:
Dear Mr. Jensen,
I am a solicitor, practicing in London. One of my clients is the Long & Currier Publishing House, which I have learned represents one of your lodgers, a Miss Eugenia Rawlins. I obtained your address from the publisher in the hopes that you would have a vacancy at present for another client of mine, a Mrs. Somerville.
Mrs. Somerville is a widow with a sterling reputation who is sadly still grieving the loss of her husband two years ago. Her family feels that a change of location and an extended stay in the country would benefit her enormously. Would you happen to have a room available?
Enclosed you will find reimbursement for a wired reply, if you would be so kind.
Very truly yours,
Osbert Radley
“How sad,” Julia said as she lowered the page. She could certainly feel empathy for a woman still so newly widowed.
“He enclosed two pounds.”
“Two pounds? And with no guarantee of a room? His client must be desperate.”
“Apparently so, judging from what was not said.”
Julia gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”
“Do you not detect that there is far more to this story than meets the eye?”
Scanning the letter again, she experienced a vague uneasiness but attributed it to the notion that they would be exchanging Mrs. Latrell for a stranger. And she had learned in recent years that feelings were sometimes a poor barometer of reality. “I can understand anyone needing to get away from familiar surroundings after losing a loved one.” It had certainly done her a world of good to move to Gresham after her husband’s death—even though the circumstances were not of her choosing.
“Then we should wire Mr. Radley in the affirmative?”
Still, a faint doubt nagged at her. “It doesn’t quite seem fair, putting this one ahead of the others. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“If you will pardon my bluntness,” he replied, “the Larkspur is yours to do with as you wish.”
“Granted. But it’s your decision as well. After all, you have more contact with the lodgers than I have.”
She knew what Andrew would advise. Take some time to pray before making a decision. But judging from Mr. Radley’s letter, time on
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Phelps.” Mr. Jensen folded his hands upon his desk and assumed a businesslike demeanor. “I will try not to keep Vicar Phelps waiting too long. This morning, Mrs. Latrell received a wire from her widowed sister in Northumberland. I gather the sister is lonely, for she has asked Mrs. Latrell to move in with her as soon as possible. The chambermaids are assisting her in packing, and Mr. Herrick will deliver her to Shrewsbury in the morning.”
“I see.” Julia was not as well acquainted with Mrs. Latrell as with the other lodgers, simply because she had married and moved out before the woman’s arrival. But she could understand how a sister would find solace in her cheerful disposition. “Of course she must go. I’ll slip upstairs and speak with her as soon as I leave you.”
“She has offered to pay next month’s lodgings for having given such short notice.”
“Do you think that is necessary?” Julia asked him. “We still have those other inquiries, haven’t we?” They were responses to the advertisements that had been posted in several English newspapers almost a year ago when Mrs. Kingston was on the verge of becoming Mrs. Bartley. Mrs. Latrell’s letter had arrived first. After it was arranged that she would take the room, Mr. Jensen had sent at least two dozen letters of regret, but surely one of those who had inquired would still be interested in the Larkspur .
“We have indeed, Mrs. Phelps,” Mr. Jensen replied. He picked up a sheet of stationery and leaned forward to hand it across the desk. “But I would like you to see a letter that arrived only yesterday.”
Julia set the fine vellum paper on the desk in front of her to smooth out the folds, then held it out in front of her to read the bold script:
Dear Mr. Jensen,
I am a solicitor, practicing in London. One of my clients is the Long & Currier Publishing House, which I have learned represents one of your lodgers, a Miss Eugenia Rawlins. I obtained your address from the publisher in the hopes that you would have a vacancy at present for another client of mine, a Mrs. Somerville.
Mrs. Somerville is a widow with a sterling reputation who is sadly still grieving the loss of her husband two years ago. Her family feels that a change of location and an extended stay in the country would benefit her enormously. Would you happen to have a room available?
Enclosed you will find reimbursement for a wired reply, if you would be so kind.
Very truly yours,
Osbert Radley
“How sad,” Julia said as she lowered the page. She could certainly feel empathy for a woman still so newly widowed.
“He enclosed two pounds.”
“Two pounds? And with no guarantee of a room? His client must be desperate.”
“Apparently so, judging from what was not said.”
Julia gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”
“Do you not detect that there is far more to this story than meets the eye?”
Scanning the letter again, she experienced a vague uneasiness but attributed it to the notion that they would be exchanging Mrs. Latrell for a stranger. And she had learned in recent years that feelings were sometimes a poor barometer of reality. “I can understand anyone needing to get away from familiar surroundings after losing a loved one.” It had certainly done her a world of good to move to Gresham after her husband’s death—even though the circumstances were not of her choosing.
“Then we should wire Mr. Radley in the affirmative?”
Still, a faint doubt nagged at her. “It doesn’t quite seem fair, putting this one ahead of the others. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“If you will pardon my bluntness,” he replied, “the Larkspur is yours to do with as you wish.”
“Granted. But it’s your decision as well. After all, you have more contact with the lodgers than I have.”
She knew what Andrew would advise. Take some time to pray before making a decision. But judging from Mr. Radley’s letter, time on
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