Chapter 33. Plots & Ploys
Bob Thomas immediately poured her out a welcoming cup of tea, ushered her into a chair and acted as if he had all the time in the world. “Miss Bottomley hired me to help edit her novel series,” she told him. “I wonder whether you know that.” His broad face expressed confusion. “It wasn’t mentioned,” he said shortly. Scarlet was not surprised that poor Miss Bottomley had not thought to mention her authorship of a long sold series as any part of her current assets. “Our Miss Clew– published sixty years ago? I don’t know if you recollect the titles.” “Ladies novels?” His face became if anything more impassive. “I’m sorry, no.” Scarlet thought of David Pourfoyle’s enthusiastic recommendation, starting her on the long path leading her to this very office, but se couldn’t explain it to Mr. Thomas. Instead, she shared with him just the facts he needed to know. “Let’s say they are highly regarded by the literati. Miss Bottomley was forced by pecuniary imperative to sell the series to Coltsfoot & Briggins, Publishers, forty years ago and now they are suggesting an updated re-issue. Miss Bottomley doesn’t trust them to edit the series – er – very respectfully, you understand – suggested she submit her version first, to which they agreed. I went to see Mr. Mountjoy yesterday and we had what I can only describe as a ghastly meeting. He showed me other series they have done - Rod the Spyif you recognize that –“ horrifyingly, his face lit up. It seemed that he did. She took a strengthening cup of tea and pressed on in spite of the fact that she feared this was about to go all wrong. “And I came away with no faith whatever that these publishers are going to preserve any of the wonderful charm and special interest of those books – which I may say are personally beloved by many, many people, including me.” Luckily, he didn’t insert a dismissive comment. His attentiveness emboldened her. “I also noticed that these particular publishers seem to be in dire need of cash.” Mr. Thomas said, “Most publishers are. Dicey business, publishing. They’re in the fashion business more than anything.” Scarlet felt cheered and suitably strengthened. “When I returned to Norfolk Crescent, I told Miss Bottomley I thought she ought to buy an equity stake in those publishers and bring out her books her own way. She was delighted with the idea.” At last Bob Thomas slid a memorandum pad towards himself and began taking notes. “Capital idea,” he said. “Miss Bottomley sorely needs a losing business. All her current rentals are bringing in money hand over fist. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I make some preliminary inquiries – sound them out so to speak to see what such a stake might cost without letting out who wants to know, and when I see Miss Bottomley tomorrow afternoon – I’m coming by tomorrow afternoon with some documents for her to sign – she can let me know how she wishes to proceed.” “Marvelous,” said Scarlet, rising immediately, “She’ll be so pleased. I can’t thank you enough.” Really she was just grateful he hadn’t thrown her out on her ear. I mean why on earth should this solicitor discuss Miss Bottomley’s business with her? As she was putting on her coat Pelham D’Arcy thrust his head around his door. “Mrs. Wye, could you stop by for a moment?” he requested. “I’ve got something I’d like to discuss.” He, too, suggested she sit and helped her off with her coat – probably thinking the sweat on her forehead meant she was overheated instead of merely relieved. He closed the door behind her with a conspiratorial air. “Your husband has acquired an attorney,” he said. “Really it could not be better for us. He seems to have instructed a Mr. Jellicoe, who shares offices with his detective.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “It sounds to me as though the cart was driving this particular horse, and we all know what is the result when THAT happens.” “It sounds horrible,” said Scarlet faintly. “I can’t imagine.” “Disaster, my dear Mrs. Wye, disaster. I suspect here we have the client who thinks he can manage his solicitor – NEVER a good idea.” He looked repressive. That’s Ian for you, thought Scarlet. He considers himself the smartest man in the room. “I saw Ian this morning,” she interjected. “His showed up unexpectedly at Norfolk Crescent. To take the car.” Pelham’s eyebrows knit worriedly but he said nothing. “That was all right with me,” she hurriedly asserted – “I don’t want it and he’s moving into the BBC flat. I told him in future he should make an appointment. Say, to see Nick.” “Naturally,” Pelham agreed. “Mr. Jellicoe and I will iron out a schedule. Until we have I suggest you inform your husband there will be no visitation. I will be serving Mr. Jellicoe with our Notice of Potential Harm to a Minor Child.” He’ll love that, thought Scarlet. “Have you been to the bank?” Scarlet looked guilty. “Not yet.” “You really need to set that up. Planters Colonial around the corner is the one we use. Would you like me to instruct Mr. Gammel, the bank manager?” “I wish you would,” said Scarlet hopefully. If there was any way to make this rough course smoother, she would take it. “I’ll give him a call. Do step round and ask to see Mr. Gammel at conclusion of our business. Should I know any more about this surprise meeting with Ian?” Should I mention Candi? Wondered Scarlet. The fact that Ian insisted he wouldn’t be getting a divorce. But she couldn’t see how that would help. “He invited me to help him move into his flat. I declined but I offered to help with a room for Nick. Should I mention the nanny. Could he use mine? My new nanny’s that new client I told you about – the one with the Foreign Service husband. How should I handle this?” “Ah, Enid Ransom.” Pelham D’Arcy gave a wolfish grin. “We have a lovely case there. Mrs. Ransom will be coming I to a tidy sum. I hope that won’t interfere with her need for employment. It would be too cruel if your good interventions deprived you of a nanny.” “I doubt it,” said Scarlet. “Miss Bottomley also hired her as a cook – I think she’s having the time of her life. And Norfolk Crescent’s the most comfortable place to live.” D’Arcy assumed a serious mien, “Mrs. Wye, I cannot emphasize strongly enough that you NOT go to your husband’s flat. You simply cannot be alone with him. If he assaulted you before the separation is final, such are the marriage laws in this country, we could not prosecute a rape. It would be assumed to be consensual. Every conjugal act sets us back to the beginning of the process, as if you had accepted and forgiven him.” Scarlet felt faint. “I did think my husband had some ulterior motive inviting me,” she gasped nervously. “I can’t believe he would be…force me.” Pelham looked alarmed. “Let’s not wait to find out what he does when he feels desperate,” he insisted, “But assume at the outset that if the worst is possible, the risk is unacceptable.” Just what Miss Clew would recommend! Thought Scarlet. She began to see the possibility of a new book: Miss Clew’s Advice to Young Girls. Always carry a hatpin would be Precept #1! In spite of herself, she giggled. Pelham D’Arcy pulled out the brandy bottle. Evidently, he considered his client at risk of becoming hysterical. “I’ll do as you suggest,” Scarlet agreed hastily. It was eleven thirty in the morning, and on an empty stomach, brandy would actually promote hysteria. “Have there been occasions in the past” – D’Arcy gasped desperately, pouring himself a snifter, “I realize I should have enquired earlier – when your husband has been - punitive?” produced a bottle of brandy and poured two shots. Scarlet blushed uncomfortably. “He is customarily quite pushy,” she said finally. “In the past, I’ve always given in. So he hasn’t had occasion to feel…deprived.” Pelham tossed back his brandy and when she refused hers, drained that as well. “Live and learn,” he said finally. “We frequently handle suits for restitution of conjugal rights and I confess I usually consider the problem from that point of view. But given the situation, you must have nothing to do with your husband. You are at risk. Any further questions?” “No. Thank you very much – for all you have done.” I’ll get right over to the bank.” She left as Pelham D’Arcy was placing his call to Mr. Gammel.
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