Chapter 14 – Moving On
Mr. Copeland the solicitor Anna had engaged to look into John's financial affairs pushed his glasses back up his nose after he read the notes from Anna's file. He pushed his papers around this way and that before he addressed Anna.
"Mrs. Bates. It will take time but I can have your husband's assets transferred under the circumstances. Does your husband have any other assets than those you have listed here," Mr. Copeland asked.
"I don't think so Mr. Copeland, but I haven't had a chance to go through everything at our cottage. What would happen if I discover any at a later date?" Anna questioned.
"Once the order is through the court, it would be a simple matter to have any remaining assets transferred if you discover any you are not currently aware of," Mr. Copeland replied. "May I ask what you are planning to do with your funds once everything is transferred and the sale of the house in London is completed?"
"I'm thinking of buying a small hotel," Anna replied. "It's always been a dream of ou…mine."
"Might I suggest you take a job working in a hotel while you waiting for the property to sell and the documents to go through the courts. It would give you practical experience in hotel management. I would hate to see you liquidate your assets and purchase a hotel only to loose everything from lack of hotel management experience, Mrs. Bates," Mr. Copeland said.
"I have a great deal of experience running a big house," Anna replied. "It can't be that much different."
"I would say there are considerable differences," Mr. Copeland said. "An estate house is run on a budget but does not have to generate income. A hotel must be managed so that expenses are balanced and a steady profit is maintained even in slow periods."
"I see your point, Mr. Copeland," Anna replied thoughtfully. "I'll think it over. I certainly don't fancy sitting twiddling my thumbs until everything is completed. Do you have any idea how long everything will take?"
"The sale of the house will depend on whether a buyer is found quickly. I suspect the other can be through the courts within the next four months or so. I do suggest Mrs. Bates that any funds held in joint, you transfer to an account under your name only. If any of the thefts are proven the victims would be within their rights to seek damages. If the funds are held exclusively in your name they would not be able to touch them."
"Thank you, Mr. Copeland. I'll take your advice. I'll be staying at the cottage for now. I'll let your office know if I have a change of address."
"An additional word of advice, Mrs. Bates. You don't have a Last Will and Testament. I suggest you have one drawn up as soon as possible. With the liquidation of your assets it would offer some protection and ensure your wishes are followed in the event the worst should happen."
"Thank you, Mr. Copeland. I'll think it over and let you know," Anna replied. She excited Mr. Copeland's office in Ripon. It was a five-mile walk to the cottage or an hour wait for the bus. She decided a walk was in order. It was the first of October but it hadn't rain in a few days. A walk in the fresh air would do her good.
Anna had been walking for about twenty minutes or so when a farm cart came along and the driver offered her a ride. Riding on the hay cart made her think of John and the many times they had done the same thing. She missed him terribly, but she had a purpose now. She would stop and pick up a paper. A job at a hotel might be just the thing to help pass the next few months. She had a great deal of experience as a maid and ladies maid. She had no real desire to work for another great house. A hotel would do nicely she thought, while she was waiting for everything to get settled.
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John Bates walked the eight blocks to the beach from the boarding house he was lodging at. It was a nice warm day. The breeze off the Mediterranean was rustling the leaves of the palms. People were sitting in the sidewalk cafes drinking their morning coffee and reading their papers. He'd had to buy two new suits as he had packed clothing suited for an English winter not the warmth of the south French coast. He spotted a seat in his favorite coffee shop that overlooked the ocean and ordered a cup of tea and a roll. He got a slight chuckle at the grimace the French waitress made at his order, then turned his attention to the book he had been reading.
It was now coming towards the end of October. He was enjoying Nice. The pickings were easy here. There were more than enough wealthy men's clubs to stage the odd midnight raid. He'd taken the train to Cannes and scoped out one or two men's clubs and hotels that would be easy to get in and out of posing as a gentlemen. All in all he was having a good vacation, the only thing that would have made it better was Anna. He set down his book when he couldn't focus on it.
He was missing Anna a great deal. His feelings towards her were the one thing he had never planned on and couldn't think his way around. He loved her and wanted to be with her. There had to be a way to reach her. She had always forgiven him no matter what. The dream of opening a hotel had been the thing he was working towards for years. He'd almost had enough when he was in the army before Vera had squandered it all. He had pretty well enough put together when he was still at Downton. He'd been trying to think of a way to buy a hotel without Anna getting suspicious of where the funds had come from. They had his mother's house and the money as well. It would buy a nice modest place in Ireland easily. That is if Anna still wanted to live with him as his wife. He'd signed over the house and most of his cash when he was in prison. The ball really was in her court now. The question was how to contact her without raising suspicion.
"The answer to the problem may have just walked into the café," John thought as he spotted Nigel Barrington walk into the café and look around for a seat. The place was busy this morning. John waved at him to come and join him. Nigel Barrington was a columnist for a London newspaper staying at the same boarding house as John. He was in Nice covering a society wedding and would be heading back to England in another week. John had spoken to him on more than one occasion. There was nothing like an unwitting patsy to pass a message through and there was no reason for the police to suspect Nigel for a moment.
"Have a seat, Mr. Barrington," John said.
"Thank you, Mr. Balfour. There doesn't seem to be another seat in the house at the moment," Nigel said.
"You know how it is. Everyone wants to escape the dreary weather in the north at this time of year, especially the English north," John said.
"Oh yes, I quite agree. Another week and I'll be back to the rain of a London winter," Nigel commented grimacing.
"Tell me, do you ever have the occasion to travel north, around the York area?" John asked.
"Now and then. Why do you ask?" the waitress stopped by the table and took Nigel's order.
"I heard about the passing of an old friend. I've wanted to stop by and check in on his widow. I won't have the opportunity for some time. I'm not expecting to be back in England for at least another year and a half. I was wondering if you might stop by and check up on her? Perhaps take along a personal note?" John asked.
"You don't want to offer your condolences by post?" Nigel inquired.
"No, there is something too impersonal about it. I would feel much better if I knew someone was stopping by to see her in person. I know it would mean a great deal to her as it does to me," John cajoled. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel I could trust you."
"I could take a note along and stop by to see if there is anything she might need. I might not be in that area until closer to Christmas," Nigel replied.
"Oh, no rush. She has friends and family in the area. Sometimes a friendly face is the pick me up someone needs."
"Very well, give me the note and her address and I'll stop in."
"Delightful, I'll have it ready for you in the next day or so," John said with a smile.
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"How are you making out with the replies to the advertisements for a new head house maid, Mrs. Hughes," Thomas asked. It had been over a month without a head housemaid and the household chores were piling up despite the new cleaning aids like the hoover. Chandeliers and all the rest had to be dusted by hand. There wasn't an easy way out of it.
"Slow at best," Mrs. Hughes said. "You would think with all the labor issues in the paper and people out of work, someone with good references and experience would apply. Service just isn't something people these days want to do. I have two picked out to set up interviews with. They're the best of the lot."
"Service was never my first choice, I must admit," Thomas replied. "The grass always looked greener elsewhere until I got a taste of it during and after the war. Now I'm quite happy to have my three squares on the table in front of me."
"These are different times. I saw Anna today. She is looking for a new job. I assured her we would both give her a good reference."
"Of course Mrs. Hughes," Thomas said. "She was a good worker here for many years despite the more recent issues."
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Packing up John's closet wasn't something Anna was ready to face yet. She was staying back at the cottage after more than two weeks at her mothers. After all the years in service and not living at home, she hadn't known how much more she could take. Anna's mother had gone on and one about how evil Anna's husband was for running off and committing a host of crimes. Anna had tried to point out he hadn't actually been convicted of anything, but her mother hadn't wanted to hear it.
Anna was keeping busy sending out letters for jobs and already had her first reply. She would give it another week before she contacted them to see if there were any other replies for interviews. Packing up the cottage was bittersweet. Each item had a special memory attached to it. Anna found herself sitting leafing through books they had looked at together or reading and rereading the letters she had saved from John when he was in prison. Being charged with a crime was different than being convicted she told herself over and over. If he had done away with Vera she couldn't blame him. He would have felt he had no other option. She would have almost done the same thing. The woman was hateful and vindictive. He had professed his innocence and she believed him. She didn't blame John for running. She would have too rather than face the inside of a prison again. Wherever he was, he was safe from the hangman's rope.
One afternoon a few days after she had returned home her gaze settled on the photo album she had put together. She took it off the shelf and sat with it on her knee for a long time. She had thought she would cry when she opened it, but found herself smiling at each picture and the memory it held. She'd thought her opportunity for romance was long past until she had met John. There was a picture of them in Scotland. It had been such a good trip and she had enjoyed dancing at the Ghillies Ball so much with John standing on the sidelines smiling at her. There was another of them they had taken shortly after John's release from prison and few others taken with an inexpensive camera at different locations in the gardens at the Abbey.
She flipped the page to some old photographs of John's. Beside one of the old pictures was a small star. It was strange. She knew it hadn't been there when she put the pictures into the album. She carefully lifted the picture out of its tabs and turned it over. The name John Balfour was written across the back. Then she remembered John saying that it was his friend who had been killed in South Africa. They certainly had been alike. She put the photograph back, finished looking through the album and put it to the side. The album was one item she would take with her to her next job so she could keep it close.
By the end of a week the cottage was starting to look empty and unlived in, almost like their life together there was being swept out the door. The final job was to pack John's clothes. Anna took each item out of the closet and folded them slowly. She could smell the lingering scent of his aftershave. She carefully checked the pockets before she laid each piece away in a case. In the pocket of John's overcoat she found a blank deposit slip from a different bank than they had used for their joint account. She put it in her handbag and made a mental not to ask Mr. Copeland to check at that bank as well.
The day before her first interview a cart came to take her box of books and knickknacks as well as the case of John's clothes to her mother's for storage. Anna closed the door behind her leaving the key on the small kitchen table. After all her years at Downton she passed the Abbey without a backward glance. It wasn't her home anymore. Her home was where her heart was and it was no longer here.