Little Eden Page 10

  Years ago, Robert’s father, Melbourne Bartlett-Hart, had given Mr T the task of preserving, cataloguing and storing the Bartlett-Hart family archives. Papers, books, legal documents, family letters, newspaper cuttings - you name it - if it related to the family it was down here in the B.H Room.

  Whilst the girls and Jack were entertaining Miss Huggins in the Bookshop above, they had no idea that beneath them, Robert and Mr T were going through the family archives from the last thousand years.

  Robert and Mr T found the Deed of Trust which had been drawn up by Henrietta Bartlett-Hart and her twin brother, Jeremiah, in 1799. It protected Little Eden and all property therein from ever being sold. It gave a personal stipend for trustees but forbade the family members from profiting by the sale of any part of the town, no matter how small.

  Mr T also produced a prodigious parcel of letters written by family members regarding the setting up of the Little Eden Trust, and many newspaper cuttings from that time.

  It had been quite the talk of the town when the news first broke! At least one journalist thought that the Trust was a good idea, and had this to say about it in June of 1799:

  London Chronicle

  I have the pleasure to report to you of a happy sojourn I spent in the small walled hamlet of Little Eden, on Wednesday evening last. Despite the general move in our metropolis to sell land for new tenements, the noble family of Bartlett-Hart believe in holding onto their property, as well as building new sanitary dwellings for the benefit of their residents. The Rt.Hon. Jeremiah Bartlett, a Quaker, sets a rare example of generosity and kindliness, endeavouring to selflessly aid the able bodied and impotent poor alike. His twin sister, the most celebrated Mrs Owen Bartlett-Hart, made an eloquent speech in the lately renovated Dovecote Street Assembly Rooms. Her evening gown was greatly admired, being made of the finest blue French silk and cut into the Arabian style. In her speech, Mrs Bartlett-Hart declared that the ethics of Little Eden are: tolerance, personal responsibility and community. By continuing to hold the ownership of all the land and property within the walls, the family believe they can better control the moral character of the residents therein. There is to be an application of rent control, allowing the current residents to remain within their abodes without fear of eviction; a present predicament so rife in London at large. In order to maintain the legacy of the family, a trust has been drawn up which prevents any land or standing property from being sold to third parties by future generations. A letter from Her Royal Highness, Queen Charlotte, was read in her absence, in which it was declared that Little Eden is “a place worthy of its name” and assured the continuation of the Royal Charter, given by King Alfred, which allows many legal concessions to continue within the sanctuary boundary and for it to remain outside of the reach of the prescribed assizes. I found myself quite saddened to leave such a prestigious event at the end of a delightful and inspiring evening. If there is a place on earth so happily situated and gaily inhabited as Little Eden, it is yet to be discovered!

  One of the letters in the bundle was from Queen Charlotte. In 1799, a royal seal of approval meant a great deal indeed! So here it is, dear readers, for your perusal:

  My dearest Henrietta

  What can I say, but that I regret most deeply, that I am unable to attend your soiree on Wednesday next. I so enjoyed the pleasure of visiting with you last year, and your dear little hamlet is such a favourite with me. I will visit your rose gardens again this year if I may, as I am collecting a great many for Frogmore. As to more pressing matters, I have the pleasure of assuring you that Mr Pitt ensures the full respect given to the Peace of St Hilda and the Liberty of Little Eden, as testament to the legacy of charity and generosity that your family uphold to this day, and now safeguard for future generations to come. I declared to my dear brother Charles that, upon my honour, there is no place in England more befitting and worthy of its name than Little Eden.

  Always yours, Charlotte

  It seemed that, back in the day, everyone who was anyone, had an opinion on the matter!

  Some people, however, found Little Eden to be quite the opposite and could see no reason for preserving such a tedious place:

  Thames Tide Courant

  There is not a prison in all London worse than finding oneself inside the walls of Little Eden. Temperance and Charity are order of the day. A drink of coffee or chocolate is all one can expect for no gin is consumed within the gates. A man cannot find the usual supply of japes in this part of London. The streets are patrolled, from morning ‘til night, by men in uniform bearing the coat of arms of the Bartlett’s. As for the new Pleasure Gardens, they are far from providing any real pleasure. There is not a pretty young girl for hire to be found. There is talk of this Holy Hamlet being taken into Trust to preserve its Christian morals for future generations. I do not think that a soul of any wit would care to dwell in such a place in which only the strictest of puritans will find themselves content.

  As they gathered together a box of what seemed to be the most likely sources of information, Robert didn’t tell Mr T why he wanted to research the Trust and kept his anxieties to himself. He took his leave around five o’clock but he didn’t want to go home, nor did he want to see his friends at the Café, for fear of blurting the whole thing out. He felt fragile and slightly ashamed. He didn’t know whether to tell anyone what had been said that morning or not. He needed more time to think! He followed his feet again and this time they took him up to Hart Crescent, in the north-east corner of Little Eden, and to Stella Dew’s house.

  Stella Dew lives in the central house of Hart Crescent. Black and gold painted railings enclose a half-moon shaped lawn which is surrounded by a walnut grove. Where there had once been a deer park, these days, the only harts to be seen are pretty wire statues, dotted about the manicured gardens. Robert knocked on the door and rang the bell. Stella, although in her seventies, is sprightly, and her eyes still twinkle with a childlike innocence, even after all her years on Earth. Opening the door, she beamed at him, but immediately felt a whoosh of great sorrow wrap itself around her, which made her frown. “My darling boy, come in, come in!” she said, puzzled as to why he looked so pale and grey. “You look and you feel dreadful!”

  On entering the marble hallway Robert felt at ease immediately, and he could see through into the inviting living room, which had an open fire burning merrily in the grate. Stella helped him take off his coat and took him through. “Sit, sit!” she said, and stoked the fire. “Now, what will it be? Tea? Coffee? Or something a little stronger? Or something a little stronger in your tea?” She laughed, but could tell that Robert was not in a laughing mood. “You sit there and I’ll get you both tea and a brandy, how’s that?” Robert nodded and was glad he had found Stella home alone. He sank into her comfortable sofa and sighed.

  In Stella’s Victorian-style kitchen the cupboards are always full of delectable treats. She seems to attract a great many hampers each Christmas, from all over the world. Perhaps, it is because at her age and with her affluence, there is little left to buy her that she would want or does not already have. Taking some carrot and ginger cookie muffins from one of them, she mulled over Robert’s strange mood. Perhaps he is just missing Lilly, she thought.

  “Now then, my darling!” she said, as she returned with a tray to find Robert standing by the fire, poking at the coals. “Tell me all about it!”

  And he did.

  When he had finished, Stella frowned. “Well, what’s to be done?” she asked him and herself. “We need a management meeting. The more heads the better on this one, I would say!”

  “I don’t know if I should tell anyone,” Robert moaned. “I shouldn’t have told you. I’m afraid everyone may panic!”

  “Tut, tut, my darling,” Stella replied. “You mustn’t carry this alone. No, no! I agree to some extent that the fewer people who know the better for now, but I suggest you tell the girls and Jack, at least.
And you must work with Lancelot and India. There are none so loyal to you than those two.”

  Robert swirled his brandy and gazed into the fire. “There is nothing I can do. It’s over, Stella. It’s over.”

  Stella tutted. “Now you listen to me! It is never over ‘til the day you die! Not ‘til your last breath is spent, is it over. Never give up! Never give in!”

  “It’s hopeless!” Robert sighed and felt as if he might cry. “Little Eden is finished and there is nothing I can do to stop it! Without Lilly…” he paused and kicked the coal scuttle with his foot.

  Stella missed Lilly terribly and felt her own grief rise to the surface. She knew Robert’s propensity to dwell on his darker thoughts and considered encouragement rather than consolation would be the best course of action right now. “This is your time Robert!” Stella told him. “Your time to stand up to your mother and your brother, and to fight for what you believe in!”

  “I am not sure what I believe in,” Robert mused, putting another log on the fire.

  “Then we must help you find out!” Stella smiled. “Come and sit by me.” She patted the cushions and invited him to sit back on the sofa again. “Do you remember when you were a little boy, how you used to love the stories of my ancestors in Russia? Why do you think you liked those stories so much?”

  Robert shrugged. “They never gave up, no matter how terrible it got?”

  Stella smiled. “Exactly! Love triumphs over hate and good triumphs over evil! They are grand and wonderful tales! Now, what story would you like your great-grandchildren to hear about you?”

  Robert looked surprised. “I have never thought about that.”

  “Well, perhaps you should!” Stella suggested.

  Robert didn’t know quite what to think. He felt as if his thoughts were not his own. One minute he was angry, the next he was resigned. One minute his predicament seemed like an avalanche hurtling towards him, and the next it didn’t seem real at all.

  “Now, are you staying for dinner or not?” She grinned, as she knew his answer would be a yes. “I have lobster, oysters and blue mussels from our cousin Jessica in Maine. I send her a haggis for Burns Night every year and she sends me the most delicious seafood. I always think I get the better end of it!”

  “How could I refuse?” Robert replied, and sighed as he lent back against the soft cushions. “And you can tell me all about great-grandmother Princess Provotski again.”

  Robert relaxed during his time with Stella and was reluctant to leave. On his way home he decided he would go and see Lucy, Sophie and Jack after all, to discuss the escapades in the crypt from the night before. He was not sure that he would tell them his secret just yet mind you!

  ~ * ~

  Robert went to fetch Mr T and they both walked across the roof terrace to No.1 Daisy Place, trying not to slip on the snow and ice whilst laden down with books and boxes. Mr T’s dog, Cedric, followed behind them, wearing a hand-knitted jacket and little booties to keep his paws off the cold snow. Sophie let them in by way of the conservatory doors, and as soon as Cedric felt the warm air wafting out from the living room, he rushed forward between Roberts’s legs, sending the books and boxes hurtling to the floor with an almighty crash.

  Lucy rushed in from the bathroom, wrapping her dressing gown around her as she did so. “Oh my god, what’s happening now?” she exclaimed.

  “Sorry! Sorry!” Robert said, gathering up the books and papers which had shot all over the floor and sofas.

  “Where have you been?” Lucy said sternly, as she scooped her dishevelled blond hair up into a pony tail. “We’ve been worried sick about you! Close the door, Mr T - it’s freezing!”

  Robert looked at her in amazement. “What do you mean, where have I been?”

  “Today! Lunch with Miss Huggins! The new headmistress!” Lucy reminded him.

  “Oh, good god, sorry!” Robert replied earnestly. “I forgot!”

  “Damn right you did!” Lucy scolded him, with a smile. “And went into hiding too! None of us could get hold of you. Not even Jack! Lancelot rang several times to see if you were here.”

  Robert shrugged.

  “Where did you get to anyway?” Sophie enquired. “Jack reckoned you had a hangover and were probably sleeping it off.”

  Robert looked for somewhere to sit down, and Mr T made himself comfortable, nearly disappearing into the cushions of Lilly’s favourite chair.

  “I’d better ring her and apologise.” Robert sighed, and looked deflated.

  “Don’t worry about it right now!” Lucy told him. “We made an excuse that you’d eaten something dodgy at the wake and it had given you the runs!”

  “You didn’t!” Robert exclaimed.

  “She kept calling you ‘Mr Bartlett-Hart’ in a very regal way, and actually thought you were a proper aristocrat,” Sophie giggled.

  “We thought it would demystify you somewhat if she knew you pooped like the rest of the commoners!” Lucy added, with a serious face.

  “Tell me you didn’t?” Robert said aghast.

  “Don’t be daft! Of course we didn’t,” Lucy said laughing. “I said you had urgent family business, and that you would ring her when you were back in the office.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. I think Jack is going to be taking care of her in your absence!” Sophie told him, with a naughty smile.

  “I am sure he is!” Robert said, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a fresh pot of tea?” he added, looking at the teapot on the kitchen work bench in the corner.

  “I am finished making tea for the day!” Lucy said, and sat down on the sofa with Sophie.

  “Well, I will make my own cup of tea seeing as the servants are on strike!” Robert smiled. “What will it be, girls? What can I tempt you with this evening?”

  “I need the anti-cold tea - honey and lemon please,” Lucy said. “I think I might be coming down with something.”

  Mr T sneezed and got out his hanky. “I hope you’re not coming down with a cold too, Mr T!” Lucy said, and kindly handed him a box of tissues.

  “I’ll have peppermint tea, ta,” Sophie said, yawning. Her tired eyes were watering from trying to stay awake, and she thought it might keep her going for another half an hour or so.

  “Sorry! I am being rude,” Robert said suddenly. “I haven’t even asked how you two are today?”

  “We are ok, I guess,” Sophie replied. She was lying of course. The two sisters felt as if they had been run over by a bus, and Sophie could not bring herself to eat, whilst Lucy could not stop eating. “We are more interested in you! Where did you get to that you couldn’t answer your phone? Enquiring minds want to know!”

  “I went to Shilty’s,” Robert said in a blasé manner, as he made the drinks.

  The girls’ jaws dropped, and they didn’t reply for a moment or two. Cedric looked at him too, as if he just as surprised at the reply!

  “Oh,” Sophie finally said, trying not to sound shocked, and she winked at Lucy.

  “I thought you weren’t seeing her anymore?” Lucy said nonchalantly.

  “Well, no, not technically,” Robert replied, and came to sit down. “That’s not important! I spent the afternoon in the cellar looking up Little Eden documents, and I’ve just been with Stella. I want to talk about what happened in the crypt with you all. I want to know who Melanie was or is, and what Alienor meant when she warned us about the future. Is Jack here?”

  “I think he went to do laps at the pool,” Lucy said. “Oh! Here he is now!”

  Right on cue, Jack came in from the roof terrace and shook the snow off his boots at the door.

  “Close the door!” Sophie and Lucy said in unison. “We were just wanting you, and here you are! Good timing!” Lucy smiled.

  “As always!” Jack grinned. “Robert! Mr T! What’s going on? What are all these papers for?”

 
“I was hoping we could have a search party for Melanie,” Robert said.

  “Who?” Jack replied.

  “You know - the woman you saw in the crypt!” Lucy interjected.

  “Good grief! I had forgotten all about that!” Jack replied, as he took his coat off and made himself a coffee.

  “Put the big light on, would you, Jack?” Sophie asked him. “And can you turn the heating up a bit too?”

  “I was thinking about what happened in the crypt after the funeral. In fact, I can’t get it out of my head. Things have happened since which make Alienor’s appearance and warnings seem more real now,” Robert told them.

  “What happened in your family meeting this morning?” Lucy asked. “Lancelot said you stormed out. He was worried about you!”

  “I can’t tell you, exactly, right now,” Robert muttered.

  “What are you keeping from us?” Lucy urged.

  “I don’t want to tell you yet - it may come to nothing,” Robert stalled.

  “Come on, old chap!” Jack said, sipping his hot drink. “Out with it!”

  “It may panic you all. I don’t want to worry you with something that may turn out to be nothing!” Robert replied, with a sigh.

  “You’re scaring me!” Lucy said. “I feel all funny inside now you have said that - as if something really bad is about to happen. If it’s that bad you should let us help you! Share it with us.”

  “That’s what Stella said,” Robert sighed.

  “Then tell us too, old boy!” Jack urged him.

  “You have enough to deal with right now!” Robert replied.

  “Come on!” Lucy said. “We don’t keep secrets from each other!”