The Wooden Hand by Fergus Hume

Mrs. Palmer dwelt in a large and imposing house, some little distance from the village, and standing back a considerable way from the Shanton Road. It had a park of fifteen acres filled with trees, smooth lawns, a straight avenue, imposing iron gates, and a lodge, so that it was quite an impressive mansion. The building itself was square, of two stories, painted white, and had many windows with green shutters. It somewhat resembled an Italian villa, and needed sunshine to bring out its good points; but in wet weather it looked miserable and dreary. It was elevated on a kind of mound, and a stone terrace ran round the front and the side. At the back were large gardens and ranges of hot-houses. Everything was kept as neat as a new pin, for Mrs. Palmer had many servants. Being rich, she could afford to indulge her fancies, and made full use of her money.

"La, dear," said Mrs. Palmer, when Eva was settled with her as companion, "what's the use of five thousand a year if you don't make yourself comfortable? I was brought up in a shabby way, as poor dead pa was a small -- very small -- chemist at Shanton. Palmer had his shop in Westhaven and was also in a grubbing way of business till people took to coming to Westhaven. Then property rose in value, and Palmer made money. He used to call on pa and commiserate with him about the dull trade in Shanton, where people were never sick. He advised him to move to Westhaven, but pa, losing heart after the death of ma, would not budge. Then Palmer proposed to me, and though I was in love with Jimmy Eccles at the Bank, I thought I'd marry money. Oh, dear me," sighed Mrs. Palmer looking very pretty and placid, "so here I am a widow."