me.’
‘No, that’s his sister and her son, apparently.’
Esme put the photograph down on the counter. She scrutinized the old gentleman’s face, wondering what he would be able to tell her if he’d been alive. She slid the photograph back towards Lucy. ‘That’s a great find, Lu. I’d better go and see what else I can learn from the maps.’ She turned to go into the search room.
‘By the way, I’ve got the copy of that newspaper article you were after about the botanical trust,’ said Lucy, scanning the desk. ‘I’ll bring it over to you when I put my hands on it.’
Esme raised a hand in thanks and went through the double doors into the main search room. She passed microfiche readers, filing cabinets and shelves of box files. People were engrossed at their screens, scribbling notes or poring over lists.
She continued into the next room. Here there were huge layout tables. In the far corner there was a large, grey, faded roll which stretched the width of the table. She put her notebook and pencil down and unrolled the maps, holding the corners down with weights so she could examine them more easily.
The area covered a huge part of the county. She peeled back the top map to reveal another of a larger scale which showed the heart of the estate. She could identify the main house and other outlines identified as ‘dwellings’ in several places on the periphery. She studied the map carefully, trying to get her bearings as to where the land extended and to see whether she could identify any places she knew.
Then she saw it. Almost on the boundary, in the far corner of the map. It was clearly identified with its name, Keeper’s Cottage. If what Mrs Rowcliffe said was true, that Polly Roberts had worked with the family for many years, this might have been her home for a long time. At the time of the photograph she might have lived in the staff quarters, of course. Perhaps over the years she had moved into the cottage and then on her retirement it had been made over to her. It was a very generous gesture. A secure tenure for life would have been the more usual arrangement. She must have had a significant part to play in the life of the family to warrant such consideration.
Esme glanced up and saw Lucy coming towards her with a newspaper in her hand.
‘Here’s that article,’ said Lucy. ‘I’ve just had a quick sneak look at the heap of stuff. The Monkleighs were obviously considerable landowners in their time.’
‘So I see, looking at these maps. What state’s the “heap of stuff” in?’
Lucy rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘The proverbial haystack. It’ll be a slow job to go through all that lot. I don’t think it had been organised for years, so there’s no sense of order, just boxes of papers and books.’
Esme was disappointed. The staff would be hard-pressed to trawl through such a collection of documents quickly, despite the enthusiasm they might feel about the fascination of such a valuable historical source. Their time and expertise were called upon from many quarters and they were always under pressure one way or another. She was tempted to offer her own services but she had to be realistic. Her days were already stretched visiting the hospital and working on her paid research. Her personal investigations would be time-consuming enough without getting sucked into such a project. Besides, if the documents proved irrelevant to her case, she might learn nothing for her efforts.
‘I do intend to make a start, though,’ said Lucy, with her usual optimism. ‘You never know. I might throw up something of note.’ She looked over Esme’s shoulder. ‘Found anything?’
Esme shrugged. ‘Nothing of any great significance. Just confirmed the location of a cottage of someone I know who lived on the estate. Polly Roberts. She worked for the family for years, from around 1937.’
‘On the estate?’
‘No, she was part of the household staff.’
‘Not for long she
‘No, that’s his sister and her son, apparently.’
Esme put the photograph down on the counter. She scrutinized the old gentleman’s face, wondering what he would be able to tell her if he’d been alive. She slid the photograph back towards Lucy. ‘That’s a great find, Lu. I’d better go and see what else I can learn from the maps.’ She turned to go into the search room.
‘By the way, I’ve got the copy of that newspaper article you were after about the botanical trust,’ said Lucy, scanning the desk. ‘I’ll bring it over to you when I put my hands on it.’
Esme raised a hand in thanks and went through the double doors into the main search room. She passed microfiche readers, filing cabinets and shelves of box files. People were engrossed at their screens, scribbling notes or poring over lists.
She continued into the next room. Here there were huge layout tables. In the far corner there was a large, grey, faded roll which stretched the width of the table. She put her notebook and pencil down and unrolled the maps, holding the corners down with weights so she could examine them more easily.
The area covered a huge part of the county. She peeled back the top map to reveal another of a larger scale which showed the heart of the estate. She could identify the main house and other outlines identified as ‘dwellings’ in several places on the periphery. She studied the map carefully, trying to get her bearings as to where the land extended and to see whether she could identify any places she knew.
Then she saw it. Almost on the boundary, in the far corner of the map. It was clearly identified with its name, Keeper’s Cottage. If what Mrs Rowcliffe said was true, that Polly Roberts had worked with the family for many years, this might have been her home for a long time. At the time of the photograph she might have lived in the staff quarters, of course. Perhaps over the years she had moved into the cottage and then on her retirement it had been made over to her. It was a very generous gesture. A secure tenure for life would have been the more usual arrangement. She must have had a significant part to play in the life of the family to warrant such consideration.
Esme glanced up and saw Lucy coming towards her with a newspaper in her hand.
‘Here’s that article,’ said Lucy. ‘I’ve just had a quick sneak look at the heap of stuff. The Monkleighs were obviously considerable landowners in their time.’
‘So I see, looking at these maps. What state’s the “heap of stuff” in?’
Lucy rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘The proverbial haystack. It’ll be a slow job to go through all that lot. I don’t think it had been organised for years, so there’s no sense of order, just boxes of papers and books.’
Esme was disappointed. The staff would be hard-pressed to trawl through such a collection of documents quickly, despite the enthusiasm they might feel about the fascination of such a valuable historical source. Their time and expertise were called upon from many quarters and they were always under pressure one way or another. She was tempted to offer her own services but she had to be realistic. Her days were already stretched visiting the hospital and working on her paid research. Her personal investigations would be time-consuming enough without getting sucked into such a project. Besides, if the documents proved irrelevant to her case, she might learn nothing for her efforts.
‘I do intend to make a start, though,’ said Lucy, with her usual optimism. ‘You never know. I might throw up something of note.’ She looked over Esme’s shoulder. ‘Found anything?’
Esme shrugged. ‘Nothing of any great significance. Just confirmed the location of a cottage of someone I know who lived on the estate. Polly Roberts. She worked for the family for years, from around 1937.’
‘On the estate?’
‘No, she was part of the household staff.’
‘Not for long she
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