And what of the husband, of Gladys’s father?
Edward Deacon knew all too well of his wife’s flexible marital standards, likewise her flexible legs and other body parts. And he was fully apprised of the manner in which these parts interacted with Abeille’s.
But Florence swept off his concerns, forever reminding her husband of his lack of culture and sophistication. Parisian flirtations were common, expected even! The only people who clucked about it were the help.
—J. Casper Augustine Seton,
The Missing Duchess: A Biography
Annie pedaled up Banbury Road into Chacombe Parish, eyes fixed on the horizon.
Somewhere past the huddled limestone cottages sat the Grange. She pictured a towering, crumbling manse, a building stooped and keening. It would lord over everything beside it, casting a long and crooked shadow across town.
But before Annie stumbled upon any decayed manors, the road split, right there in the middle of a bunch of very unimposing homes. Middleton Road went right, the Ring veered to the left. Banbury Road had ended.
“What the hell?”
She stopped her bike on a triangular patch of grass and examined the sign again. One car puttered past, and then another. In the distance she heard the squabble of birds.
“Banbury Road?” she said, taking a few laps around the sign. “Where did you go?”
The bird chirping intensified and soon Annie realized these were not geese but a flock of middle-aged women walking hurriedly in her direction.
“Excuse me!” she called to the fast-walkers. Annie jogged toward them, wheeling her bike alongside. “Pardon! Sorry to bother you!”
They didn’t slow, not a hitch in their pace.
“If I could have just a minute of your time!”
The women halted in unison. They each raised a left brow, the seamless choreography of a tight-knit and determined group.
“Hi!” Annie said brightly. “I’m a researcher. From out of town. Do you know where I might find the Grange?”
The women stared vacantly.
“The Grange?” Annie repeated, squinting in the sun. “At number four, Banbury Road. Next door to ‘Patricia’?”
It was possible one of them knew her. It was possible one of them was her. Perhaps Annie could name-drop bookstore Trudy next.
“You passed it already,” a woman told her.
“Yes, I know I passed the road. That’s the problem, I can’t figure out how to pick it back up again.”
“No,” another said. “You passed the Grange. A few lengths back.”
“What?” Annie turned toward the path from which she’d come. “That can’t be right.”
They were in Chacombe proper. The George & Dragon was within a few blocks’ distance. The buildings around her all looked the same: limestone, each one rolling into the next as naturally as the grass and trees and boxwood surrounding them. There wasn’t a haunted house in sight.
“I’m trying to find the Grange,” Annie said, enunciating. Maybe they had trouble with the accent Gus accused her of having. “The estate where the Duchess of Marlborough once lived? Mrs. Spencer?”
“That’s the spot,” one confirmed, pointing. “Four Banbury Road. You can see the front gate from here.”
They spun around and continued on their speedy way.
Winded, and with a stitch in her side, Annie checked the address she’d written down. Four Banbury Road, just as the women said. Why hadn’t Gus told her the Grange was only a few blocks from the pub?
“What a pain in the ass he is,” she groused, and leaned her bike against a tree.
Hands on hips, she studied the building at 4 Banbury Road, along with the ones beside it. Annie understood why everyone had been in Mrs. Spencer’s business. Her neighbors had had no choice. They probably saw her crawling into bed with Pru.
Annie hadn’t imagined the Grange to be in the thick of things. The property itself was sprawling, but the main home was not the ever-growing behemoth Pru saw when she first walked through its halls. Even Goose Creek Hill was bigger.
Well, this shouldn’t take long, Annie thought.
Stepping gingerly toward the front gate, she could almost feel Mrs. Spencer—and Pru—on the other side of it. Annie shook her head. It’d been thirty years. Those people were long gone.
At the gate she paused. There was a note tacked onto it, dated a few days before.
Application for Grade II building: House. Early 18th century. Coursed limestone and ironstone rubble, missing roof, brick stacks, two stories plus attic, three bays. Main doorway in second bay from right and has wood lintel and plank door. Four-light window to right has wood lintel, wood mullions, and iron casement. Similar three-light window to left. Doorway in second bay from left has wood lintel and four-panel door, part glazed. Two-light window to left with wood lintel, wood mullions, and iron casement. Similar window on first floor. Left gable end is coped with kneelers.