Chapter 27. Sops of Wine
Scarlet gave Nick his bottle right at the table and still Miss Bottomley eagerly joined them. She ate like a starved person, which it turned out, she was. The bacon and cream Scarlet had seen in her refrigerator were for the exclusive delight of The King of Wessex. Scarlet determined to shift him to tinned cat food and begin charging groceries to Miss Bottomley as Pom suggested. Feeding the old lady and the cat would have definitely bankrupted her. “These apples are delicious,” said her employer. “What are they called?” “Sops of wine,” Scarlet told her. “Who could resist that?” “Most romantic,” Miss Bottomley agreed. Pom said he must be on his way and refused a lift. Miss Bottomley closely watched Scarlet change Nick. This became less embarrassing when her employer confided her nursing experiences from World War I. The things she’d seen were worthy of a memoir. Scarlet began thinking her new employer was starved for human contact, too. As soon as a clean Nick was stomach-down on the rug Miss Bottomley changed the subject. “I do like your Pom person,” said Miss Bottomley, whose still-sharp eyes apparently missed nothing. “Hiring a detective, indeed! Seems so drastic. Is that husband of yours a dreadful Heathcliff? A would-be tenant of Wildfell Hall?” “I’m no longer certain,” said Scarlet. “I thought I was in an equal marriage but he seems to have been playing a long game to maneuver me into a corner .” “Into his harem,” Miss Bottomley agreed. “Men often do that, I find. Their excuse is that they must decide for us because we’re so supposedly “emotional”. But in my interviews with Mr. Inkum he’s always the one to fly off the handle! After all these years if I’ve learned nothing else I’ve learned how to keep my temper, I can assure you.” “May I look at those documents the solicitor wants you to sign?” Miss Bottomley fetched a blue legal-looking folder, settled down by the kitchen fire and promptly fell asleep. Scarlet had discovered there was a telephone extension upstairs in the serving area and she put in a prompt call to Pelham D’Arcy at his home number. “Miss Bottomley’s inherited some dreadful solicitor pretending to represent her but as far as I can see he’s representing himself. He wants her to turn her estate into a trust with himself as sole trustee!” “Sounds most unsavory,” agreed Pelham. “Tell you what, Bob Thomas is our wills & trusts man – the old ladies love him. I happen to know he’s free tomorrow at ten o’clock.” “We’ll be there,” promised Scarlet. She had had enough excitement for one day.
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November 2021
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