Tales From Mist WorldChapter 3 Salvage and other dirty words
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The Mist Of Time Ch. 18-19 free porn video
CHAPTER 18
It was late when we got down. Tina and Aleksy were sitting at the table, empty plates before them and the scent of Eggs and Bacon still hanging in the air. ‘Wondered when you two would get down.’ Tina remarked. She looked up at Bella. ‘I see you found the clothes I sneaked into Daniel’s room.’
‘Yes. Thank you, Tina.’
Emma came in, having sensed that more hungry stomachs needed feeding. She looked at Bella and shouted for Gerry who rushed in. She looked at Bella and then back to Emma. ‘She’s ruined for us now. Damn!’
Bella was smiling broadly. ‘I’ll tell you when the spanking is, but you are not invited. My fiancé and I need privacy.’
At first no one reacted to Bella’s words. Then Tina looked up sharply. ‘Did you say Fiancé?’ Bella nodded. Of course the girls rushed around to hug and kiss Bella, congratulating her. Aleksy and I just shook our heads.
‘Is there any coffee left in that pot?’ I enquired.
He lifted it and nodded. ‘Still hot, Boss.’
A good breakfast set me up for the day. Aleksy and Tina went to view the cottage that Andy had promised to let and Bella and I lounged around. Suddenly she remembered something. ‘I brought Great aunt Arabella’s diary. Do you want to read it?’
‘I certainly would like to read it.’ Bella ran off to fetch the diary. She was back in minutes.
‘I haven’t brought all of them. She noted almost everything for the day and wrote the diary for seventy years. It can be tough reading at times. This one is nineteen o’ eight, when she first gets to know Danbury. I glanced through the pages, pages of close feminine writing in a pale blue ink which had faded somewhat. This was going to be difficult.
Excerpt of Arabella’s diary.
Twenty seventh of August nineteen hundred and eight. Dear diary. I have met him. The man who I always knew was out there, the one who would make me his wife. It is so silly really, as our families have lived within a short horse ride for years. Unfortunately we are not considered to be right for their social standing as Daddy is just a grocer. He is Sir Danbury Chandler and he is so handsome. I confess my heart almost stopped when first I saw him. His hair is deep brown with a lock that flops over his right eyebrow shadowing his lovely brown eyes. His face doesn’t appear to be finished without the almost constant smile he wears. He is quite slim but not too tall, yet if I were to stand by him I would still have to look up. He is perfect. I am so happy that strangely he has no resemblance to his father, all that ginger hair and very pale-blue watery eyes within a pasty face ugh! It was quite by chance that I met him at his estate yard. I was riding by when I noticed the labourers scurrying round and arguing. Out of curiosity I rode over. It appeared that one of those internal combustion carriages had gone by and spooked the horses pulling the mower. They had bolted through the gateway, which was too narrow for the mower, it crashed into the wall and many of the blades are now seriously out of shape.
Sir Danbury had been summoned and shortly he arrived at the gallop, leaping off his horse so fluently as if he was an acrobat. He seemed to understand the situation very quickly and I was amazed that he didn’t start shouting at his men as I am certain his father would have done. He spoke quietly with his leading man and thought for a moment, then spoke again. There is one last field that needs to be harvested and it should be soon as rain is almost certain in the next few days. Without the mower the field must be harvested in the traditional way, men wielding scythes. The wonder of it all is that Sir Danbury will join the men to bring in the harvest. None of his labourers had ever heard of that before. I was standing with the labourers wives and one whispered in my ear. ‘Setting your sights, Missy?’ I must confess dear diary that I blushed. However she went on to say. ‘He’s a good’un. You’ll not do better. It will be much happier round here as well with him as Master. We knew that the first time he came down here. The cottages were in a bad way. He spoke to Alfie and suggested that if the men did the work, he would provide the materials and forgive the rent until the cottages were right again. No other master would have done that, certainly not old Sir Dashwood. May he rot!’ I could empathise with that feeling, Sir Dashwood would hardly exchange the time of day with Daddy except when he needed to sell some of his land. He would thank Daddy profusely, then ignore him the next day.
They started the following day. Eight men and Sir Danbury. Alfie Sugg, the lead man took his place in the left of the line and drew a deep breath as he surveyed the field of wheat. He braced himself with the scythe and called to his men. ‘We will harvest this field in three days.’ He then swung his scythe and started his swathe. When he had bitten into the wheat for three swathes the next man to him, who was my Danbury studied his rhythm and matched his strokes. The other men did as Danbury did. It was a half arrow head led by Alfie Sugg. I asked one of the wives why they adopted this formation. ‘If they were all in line, it would be easy for a scythe to chop at another man’s leg. Very nasty a scythe cut.’ Suddenly I heard Alfie sing. ‘Danny Boy.’ The other men sung the next line. ‘Danny Boy.’ Alfie sang again Danny Boy, the others repeated Danny Boy. Then all together they sang ‘Danny Boy, amongst the leaves so green oh’. The simple refrain was repeated using one of the other’s names. I realized that the song would help them keep in time. I also realized that Danny Boy was Sir Danbury.
The wife I had spoken to asked me if I had any vittles for my man. I shook my head. ‘He’ll want something midday, Missy. Some nice bread and cheese and a flagon of small beer.’ I was cast down for a moment. I hadn’t thought of that. I raced to my horse that was contentedly cropping at some grass. ‘Come along Dapple. We have to get some food for our man.’ I set Dapple to gallop and she seemed to respond to my urgency. Within twenty minutes we were home at Meadowlea.
I asked cook for the food. She understood what was required as I explained. Then I asked. ‘What is small beer?’ She smiled and went out to the scullery, returning with an earthenware flagon. ‘It’s beer, Miss Swinson, but it is weaker than normal. Quenches the thirst but doesn’t addle the wits.’
I was back within the hour. The men had stopped and were running stones over their scythes. Wheat seemed so fragile but it seemed that it could blunt a scythe quite quickly. They did this quite regularly whenever Alfie called a halt. The women followed the men and collected the mown stalks. They tied them with twine into bundles and set them upright together in stooks. There seemed quite a few stalks that had been missed by the scythe, Mistress Suggs told me that they were allowed to gather the uncut grain, she called it gleanings and mill it for their own bread-making. Eventually Alfie called for food and drink. The men sat down gratefully and the women went out carrying the food and drink for their men. As I prepared to walk out into the field one woman stopped me. She gave me a little jar. ‘He will be needing this, Missy. It’s something that Mistress Sugg cooks up. It don’t smell too good, but it will be very soothing for his hands.’ I took my bundle to Sir Danbury. He looked up and smiled. Oh Diary, if hadn’t been in love with him before I would have fallen all over again with that smile.
‘Miss Swinson. This is so kind of you.’ I couldn’t say anything, it seemed as if my tongue had swollen to twice its normal size. Instead I blushed and stammered ‘Arabella’. He smiled again and spread out his coat. ‘Would you like to sit for a while, Arabella?’ He talked to me and I managed to stutter out answers to his questions. When he had finished the bread and cheese he took the flask and drank deeply. I took the linen top off the jar.
‘I am told that this concoction will be very g
ood for your hands.’ I proffered the jar, but he simply offered his hand for me to administer. He had wrapped strips of cloth around his hands but as I unwrapped his fingers I could see the blood and burst blisters. ‘It may sting, I think.’
‘A little price to pay for the beauty I see before me.’
‘Sir Danbury!’
‘Danbury. Arabella! Just Danbury.’
End of excerpt of Arabella’s diary.
Bella and I had read the diary together, stopping frequently to discuss what Arabella had described. The diary would take days to read, as Arabella seemed to miss little and noted it in her diary. Bella was putting the diary away in her bag when something struck me. ‘Wait a minute.’
‘What is it, Daniel?’
‘She mentioned Sir Dashwood, she described him.’
‘Yes. What about it?’
‘Dashwood was a thorough red head with all the traits of that colouring. Hair, pale skin. Light blue eyes.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then she described Danbury, who was completely different. Dark brown hair, brown eyes. Now it is not automatic that a son of a red head will be redheaded as well, but Danbury had none of those features at all, and he had brown eyes.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything.’ Bella objected.
‘True, but it is rare that a son doesn’t have any similarity to the father. Now I am supposed to be a doppelganger with Danbury, but I have no genetic trail to Dashwood. Do you follow?’
‘I think so, sort of. Are you suggesting that Danbury was not actually Dashwoods son?’
‘It’s a possibility. The resemblance of Danbury and myself may have come from a generation before, possibly from whoever fathered Robert.’
Bella giggled and then the giggle turned into a real laugh. ‘Oh Daniel.’ She gasped while trying to control her laughter. ‘If that was so, it would have really put the fox amongst the chickens.’
I suggested that we went shopping sometime that week. ‘Hmm, yes a good idea. You need more linen.’
‘We need more linen.’
‘Whatever.’
‘It wasn’t that anyway. I have to buy you an engagement ring.’
That stopped her for a moment and then she smiled, happily. ‘That’s a lovely thought, but can I suggest something else?’
‘Yes.’
‘I have a ring. It is a family heirloom, a solitaire diamond shouldered by emeralds. The reason I ask is that it is the ring that Danbury gave to Arabella. She never got the gold ring to go with it, so I thought it would be nice to finish the story, if you understand.’
I leaned over and kissed her. ‘A very good idea. The circle went out of shape back then. We will put it back into shape.’
I mentioned my thought about Sir Danbury to Tina the next day when we occupied our new office for the first time. She was putting files away and stopped abruptly. ‘You are joking.’
‘No. Ask Bella, she’s upstairs.’
‘Moved in has she?’
‘As we speak.’ Tina went off in search of Bella.
Twenty minutes later she re-appeared with Bella who had brought the diary. ‘I am going to copy the page and send it to Mr. Prescott. I think he will find this quite interesting.’
‘I see. Are we going to get any work done today?’ I asked flippantly.
‘Well I will, Boss, but I have my doubts about you.’
‘Thank you, Tracey.’
Actually I was the one who got on with work as Bella and Tina first went about the business of scanning the two pages of Arabella’s diary and then composing an email to Mr. Prescott. That wasn’t the end as together they started to read further into the diary. I was catching up on the correspondence that had arrived during the move. Quite a large packet had been delivered by the postman, who was surprised to have post for what he had assumed was a derelict house. Tina had informed the Post Office of our move and they were diverting the mail from Bethnal Green to Chetford. One flyer had caught my eye. It was from and Auctioneer in Lowestoft giving advanced notice of an auction of property. I brought up their website and studied the property for sale. I decided that some of the properties would suit and noted in my diary to attend. I emailed them to register my intention to bid.
I became aware of Bella standing by my side. She had been watching what I was doing. ‘Can I come with you?’ She pleaded.
‘Of course, but why?’
‘I want to know how you do things, I want to know the signs that make you bid or not as the case would be.’
‘I see, looking to take over, are we?’
‘Don’t be silly, I couldn’t do that. It’s just that I would like to be of use, you know helping if I can. Tina is very busy, you are very busy, and I don’t want to stand around being a spare peg.’
‘Ok. Yes, of course you can come along with me. I’ll try to show you what happens and what to look for.’
That was the right answer if the smile she wore was anything to go by. She was going to leave and suddenly turned back. ‘You know you are going to need a housekeeper for this place.’
I nodded. ‘Yes. I did think of that when we were moving in. Got any ideas?’
‘I think so. Let me ask around and I’ll get some possibilities in for you to interview.’
‘For us to interview. You are part of this as much as I.’ I got the smile again.
Three weeks later Tina brought to my attention an email from Mr. Prescott. He had found something and would like to call to discuss his findings.
CHAPTER 19
Mr. Prescott’s eyes widened in amazement when drew up outside the Dower House. He got out of his car and just stood for a while his eyes darting here and there trying to take in the change. He came up the steps shaking his head. ‘Mr. Chandler I am amazed. From the photos I discovered of this house, I would have said without hesitation that all you could do was knock it down.’ He extended his hand to shake. ‘This is magnificent.’ I showed him inside and took him to the office. He greeted Tina. ‘Miss Barker. It is so very good to see you again.’ His gaze then fell upon Bella, who advanced and held out her hand.
‘I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Prescott. I am Annabel Swinson, soon to be Annabel Chandler.’
That stopped him. ‘Swinson? Are you by any chance related to Arabella Swinson?’
Bella smiled. ‘She was my great, great aunt.’
Mr. Prescott looked at me and then back to Bella. ‘And you are engaged to Mr. Chandler?’
‘Yes.’
‘Wonderful!. I have often observed through my research that history appears to repeat itself. Here is proof. Fate obviously intended a connection between Chandler and Swinson. I am so pleased that it is going to happen.’
‘Coffee, Mr. Prescott?’ Tina broke in.
‘May I be difficult and ask for tea?’
‘No problem.’
‘I’ll help you, Tina.’ Offered Bella and they left together.
Mr. Prescott had brought his laptop and looked around to see where he could set it down. ‘Here. Use my desk.’
‘Thank you Mr. Chandler.
‘Call me Daniel.’
He nodded. ‘I am Brian.’ He switched on the laptop and we waited as it booted. ‘I continued in the research and found some facts which didn’t seem to fit. When I received that email from Miss Barker with the description of Sir Dashwood it started to make sense, that is if you discount Sir Dashwood as being the sire of Sir Danbury.’
‘It went through my mind, yes.’
‘Good we are both in the same frame of mind.’
The girls came back with drinks, and once we had sweetened and milked to personal tastes Brian began to talk. ‘This could have been an uninteresting story. The Chandlers like so many aristocratic families went from rags to riches and back to rags. It would have remained just that except for the intervention of you, Daniel and your extraordinary resemblance to Sir Danbury. Daniel you should not have any gene similarity to Sir Danbury, except through his mother. That could have been just a coincidence until Miss Barker. May I call you Tina?’ Tina nodded. ‘Sent me the pages from Arabella S
winsons’ diary. The description of Sir Dashwood was illuminating. That Sir Danbury had none of his physical characteristics would have most doctors asking questions. Whilst genes from past generations could come into play, sometimes from many generations long gone, it is rare that a son has none of his father’s characteristics. So with that in mind I started searching again. This is what I found.’
He put up a sepia photo of what was without doubt a Victorian man. Hair cut short with a neat side parting, a moustache and a full beard, neatly trimmed in the style of Edward the VII. The eyes almost glared at the photographer with disdain. He was almost certainly an aristocrat. ‘This is Rupert St.John Grantley, Earl Grantisbury to be precise. He was a friend of Edward VII from his late teens and continued as one of Edwards’s companions’ right through to his death.’ He put up another photo and I immediately recognised Sir Danbury. ‘I have cleaned up the photo’s to remove the damage that comes with age. Now let’s look at them in a different way.’ He clicked and suddenly the two photos’ came up side by side. ‘I managed to get hold of a programme that was developed for the police. It compares the two images and rates them according to similarities. The police use it to identify culprits who try to disguise themselves. Genealogists use it to determine relationships. The programme examines width of brow, setting of eyes, cheekbones , chin and mouth. All of which are usual familial genetic traits.’ He set the program to work and we waited as the photos were scanned. In one corner a percentage counter was clicking up. ‘It takes some time as my laptop doesn’t really have a large enough processor and this programme takes up a lot of the disc.
It took something like ten minutes to complete and at the end the percentage counter was indicating sixty-six percent. Tina was impatient. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that these two people have a very high possibility of being related. I believe the police with a correlation percentage of seventy-five percent would conclude that the photos are probably two views of the same man. With genetics anything over fifty percent is pertinent. If I had the skills to photo-shop and get rid of the Earl’s beard, I am certain that the count would be higher. The beard hides some physical features.’
‘I could do that.’ Tina advanced her computer skills. ‘I have Adobe on my computer. Send me the photo and I’ll get on to it.’
Mr. Prescott looked at me, I shrugged my shoulders. He loaded the two photos onto a USB memory stick and Tina immediately slotted it in and downloaded. ‘You must take care, you cannot change the underlying bone structure.’
‘I think you had better stay for lunch.’ I suggested to Brian.
‘Who’s cooking?’ Asked Bella.
I looked at Bella who smiled sweetly. She had said on quite a few occasions that her cooking skills were minimal. ‘Ah! I think we had better go down to the pub. You coming Tina?’ She didn’t reply. She was already working, merely waving her hand airily obviously not bothered about lunch.
We did not stay long at the pub. Everyone of us was eager to see how Tina had got on. She was still poring over the editing suite when we got back. I, who knew her best could see that she was getting exasperated. I guided Brian and Bella out to the back terrace. ‘It’s best we leave Tina alone for the moment. She is likely to explode if we harass her.’
‘I’ll go and make coffee.’ Bella offered. ‘Or would you prefer tea, Brian?’
‘That’s very kind of you Bella. I would indeed prefer tea.’
‘Where did you get this Earl and why did you think he could be part of the equation?’
‘It was something that struck me when I was seeking to find the acquaintances of Sir Dashwood and Lady Adelaide. I supposed that if Sir Dashwood was not the father of Sir Danbury then it would be one of their society who could. The ‘Tatler’ was the publication that carried that sort of information. I had to go through a lot of microfilm. They reported the house parties of the aristocracy and royalty and I was able to match Lady Adelaide to some of the weekend parties. After some time I found that Earl Grantisbury would be at the same events, I thought it coincidence at first, until I realized that Lady Adelaide was a guest only when Earl Grantisbury was present as well. With his connection to Edward it was simple to get a photo of him. That was when I started investigating him.’
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