A Death in the Loch (2 page)

‘As enjoyable as it has been to catch up with your exploits,’ she said, ‘I for one have work to do. So if madam will tell me which of her trunks she wishes unpacked first?’

‘Leave it,’ I said. ‘It is so deathly dull being a companion I may be forced to take up embroidery. Richenda isn’t one for scintillating conversation. I’ll unpack them myself. It’ll give me something to do.’

Merry looked at me as if I was mad. Clearly she thought she’d love someone to fetch and carry for her. She had no idea what it was like being a single lady. In-between the violent eruptions in my domestic life as a companion I was close to being bored witless. Indeed my happiest times had been working below stairs at Stapleford Hall when I had the running of the house to occupy my time. I sighed. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Richenda had agreed that I would act as housekeeper for the little time we were here. I decided to put this idea to her later.

‘No. No! No, you ungrateful wretch,’ spat Richenda. ‘You are my companion. It would lower my status if you went back to being a housekeeper.’ We were the first down for dinner and were drinking cocktails that a footman I didn’t recognise had rather expertly made for us.

‘This is very pleasant,’ I said, quickly changing the subject.

‘Hmm,’ said Richenda, ‘it doesn’t taste as if it has any alcohol in it.’ Richenda was wearing a tiny band-style hat with enormous green feathers. One dipped into her drink as she sniffed it. ‘Damn,’ she said brushing it aside and sending droplets down the front of her ivory and green evening dress. ‘Damn silly shape for a glass.’

‘Damn silly drink if you ask me,’ said Bertram, coming into the room and collecting his glass from the footman. ‘Almost as silly as your hat, Rich!’

‘I’ll have you know I had this imported from France!’

‘I’m sure they were glad to get rid of it,’ said Bertram.

‘You are a cad,’ said Richenda without rancour. ‘What do you know about women’s fashion?’

‘I heard Mrs Deighton has made her French cream cake for dessert in honour of your arrival, Richenda,’ I said.

Richenda’s eyes lit up. ‘Yum!’

‘Don’t you want to look …’ began Bertram, who encountering a look from Richenda stumbled a little, ‘I mean, your wedding and all that.’

‘Hans loves me just as I am!’

‘You mean he loves your shares,’ said a voice from behind us.

‘Almost as much as you do,’ countered Richenda with unusual wit. ‘I’m sure you’re eager to remind me of how important family is during my little visit.’ She raised her glass to her twin. ‘And let me remind you I have made a will, so if I die before I am wed you won’t see a penny of those shares.’

Instead of protesting Richard grunted and nodded. ‘Clever girl,’ he said.

Really, living with these people, was it any surprise one tripped over the occasional dead body?

[1]
Please see my earlier journals for full, and at times lurid, details.

Chapter Two:

The establishment of status

Richard won the argument by pretending it had never happened. I can’t say that mealtimes were particularly enjoyable, but in general the master of the house ignored me. Doubtless biting his lip and thinking of Richenda’s shares. Bertram, much in the manner of a man, bailed. Most days regardless of the weather he took a gun out and walked the grounds. One morning he received a telephonic communication. I knew at once it had been his man down at White Orchards.

‘Don’t say anything, Euphemia,’ he warned me as he stalked across the hall where I was trying ineptly to arrange some winter roses. ‘Don’t say a word.’

I disobeyed at once. ‘I didn’t say anything,’ I said, inaccurately.

‘You looked it,’ growled Bertram.

I raised my eyebrows.

‘Oh, very well, if you insist, my new agent tells me that the inner gable leaves of White Orchards are not substantial enough and will need to be rebuilt.’

‘Why do inner gable leaves matter?’ I asked, thinking helplessly of terracotta trees.

‘They are what the outside chimneys are tied to,’ said Bertram.

‘With string?’

‘God, it’s not that bad,’ said Bertram. He paused and pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘Actually, it is. They use metal ties to anchor the chimney and outer gables. It seems the builders who did some running repairs to the house for the previous occupants used soft stone and now it’s coming away in handfuls.’

He looked so crestfallen that I relented. ‘There was no way you could possibly have known that,’ I said.

‘No,’ agreed Bertram. ‘I know. But it means as well as having to attend Richard’s awful New Year party, which I had already promised to do, we will all have to spend Christmas here again. I had hoped you, me, and Rich could have escaped.’

‘I had hoped Richenda would allow me some time off for Christmas.’

‘No hope of that I’m afraid. If she has to stay at Rotten Richard’s then she’ll ensure we suffer with her. I don’t suppose we could all descend on your mother, could we?’ asked Bertram.

‘No,’ I almost shouted. I took a deep breath. ‘No, I’m afraid it would be beyond my mother’s dwelling as well as her budget to cater for us all.’

‘Damn it, Euphemia! I’d rather sleep in a cowshed than suffer one of Richard’s parties.’

‘It might be exciting,’ I teased. ‘We could all play wink murder.’

‘Don’t. Just don’t,’ said Bertram and slouched off to retrieve his gun.

Concentrating on New Year it turned out Richard had decided on only a small Christmas party for family and close friends. And thus began the row again between Richenda and Richard over my attendance. In the end I took Richenda to one side and reassured her.

‘I honestly don’t want to be the ghost at the feast,’ I said. Richenda bristled with misunderstanding. ‘Your brother is quite right that some of the guests will recall me as a housekeeper and maybe even a few as a maid. I no more want to sit through their questioning or disapproving looks than Richard wants me at the dining table. Of course, I’d be happiest at home …’

‘Impossible,’ snapped Richenda.

‘But if that is how you feel, allow me to have my Christmas celebrations alone. I have near on a suite of rooms and Mrs Deighton will ensure I am well catered for.’

Richenda sighed. ‘Oh, if you must. Just for Christmas Day though, and I shall buy you an extra-large present to make up for it.’

I smiled and thanked her. All the while praying that my present would not be one of her infamous sartorial choices. In truth I had a plan to into invite Merry, Merrit, and a few of the other staff I knew well to my room for a Christmas drink and snatched snack between their duties, but in this I was to be foiled by the sudden arrival of Mrs Lewis.

Richard informed us proudly over breakfast one day that a new housekeeper would be joining his staff. He made it clear she was a paragon of virtue and her references were outstanding. Bertram and I exchanged looks. Neither of us could fathom why such a perfect servant would choose to work in the middle of nowhere for Richard’s notoriously low wages.

The answer came when the footman opened the front door later that night and screamed. Mrs Lewis had what could be described, if one was being very generous, as a face with character. As Merry told me later when she came by to turn down my bed for the night, ‘Lord, if you met her on a dark night with only a candle for light you’d think the devil himself had come for you.’

‘Drinks, does she?’ I said thinking of the late and not particularly lamented Mrs Wilson.

‘No,’ said Merry. ‘Well-spoken. Took the time to talk to all of us. She even asked me if I was unhappy about her taking over as housekeeper.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said I was bloody well delighted and that I’d only been an under housekeeper under sufferance.’

I laughed.

‘And you know what she said?’

I shook my head. ‘She said, and I quote (here Merry put on what she thought of as an upper-class accent but which sounded like someone with enlarged adenoids) “In a Christian household, Mary, and I believe this one to be such or I would not have taken the position, one does not swear. However, I am appreciative of both of your sense of duty to your employers that you have been doing your best under difficult circumstances and that you bear no resentment of my arrival. I shall endeavour to return your graciousness by training you up so that one day you will make someone an excellent housekeeper.” ’

‘That’s very nice of her,’ I said.

‘I think she is nice,’ said Merry. ‘Very formal and very against women servants marrying, though. I’ve already told Merrit to keep everything on the quiet side. She’s formal, but she’s fair. I think I can learn a lot from her.’

‘Excellent,’ I said, already almost half-asleep. ‘I must meet her tomorrow.’

‘Oh no,’ said Merry, ‘I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ But I was already half-asleep and thought I must have misheard her.

The next morning it turned out I had heard her exactly right.

It had become my custom to rise earlier than the family and come down to the kitchen for a cup of tea and a slice of toast as Mrs Deighton cooked up the family breakfast. It gave me a chance to catch up with my old friends and also to hear what was going on in the house. A good servant notices everything.

But this morning when I sat down at the kitchen table as usual Mrs Deighton gave me a startled look. She opened her mouth to say something but the voice came from directly behind me.

‘Miss St John! Whatever can we do for you?’

The voice was as commanding as a governess and I leapt to my feet. Turning I saw a tall, middle-aged woman with neat grey hair and a slender figure dressed in black. She was unremarkable except her face reminded me of nothing as much as the gargoyles on my late father’s church. My jaw dropped.

‘I’m s-s-sorry,’ I stammered, ‘I didn’t hear you approach.’

Mrs Lewis gave me a half-smile that said she appreciated my tact at not mentioning her appearance, but that she saw straight through me. ‘Perhaps you would do me the kindness of sparing me a few minutes.’

I looked at her blankly. ‘In my parlour,’ she said.

‘I haven’t quite finished my toast,’ I said.

‘Breakfast for the family will be served in half an hour.’

So that was it. I was to be upbraided for deigning to eat in the kitchen. As soon as we entered her parlour, which had once been mine, I began to explain, ‘My situation is a little unusual …’

‘I know,’ forestalled Mrs Lewis. ‘You have had quite a meteoric career.’ This was said completely without resentment. ‘But difficult as it is to move up in the world, Miss St John, it is even more difficult to move back down. I understand that you doubtless have affection for the staff and even number some of them as old friends, but I am afraid that is not a situation I can allow to continue. Mrs Deighton, as I am sure you were completely unaware, is suffering badly from her rheumatism this morning. It is quite a struggle for her to concoct the large breakfast that has been ordered, but she is determined to pull her own weight – which I find admirable.’

‘Indeed,’ I said quietly.

‘If you had still been a maid she would have ushered you out of the way, but as a companion she has no authority to ask you to leave her in peace to work.’

‘I would have completely understood!’ I exclaimed.

‘And she would also have feared that you would think she was spurning your friendship now you work above stairs. As you know, she is a most kind-hearted woman.’

‘You’re saying I am a liability below stairs,’ I said.

‘I am afraid so, Miss St John. And I am very sorry to say so, because I imagine your position though now socially superior may be a little lonely, but I cannot have the workings of the house disrupted. It is my duty and my livelihood to ensure a smooth-running house.’

‘Of course,’ I said horrified to find myself blinking back tears.

Mrs Lewis nodded. ‘I knew you were a sensible woman who would respond to plain speaking.’ I judged this to be one of her highest compliments and attempted to smile. ‘Now,’ she continued, ‘until our butler returns I must continue to train Archie to practice carrying the third-best crockery and even attempt to convince him to master the art of turkey carving.’

‘It will doubtless be so poorly carved the first few times you will be unable to serve it upstairs.’

The gargoyle face broke into a wide smile. ‘Indeed, and he will have to eat the proceeds. Excellent point. Though, to be honest, I do hope and pray Mr McLeod will be returned to us before Christmas arrives.’

In my turn I wondered if Rory McLeod would be allowed to talk to me upon his return and more to the point whether he would want to.

Chapter Three:

Christmas

Much against my wishes, and despite my resorting to begging, Richenda went Christmas shopping in London without me. While she was away Richard and I studiously ignored each other. Merry, to whom I had explained Mrs Lewis’s decree, pooh-poohed it with her usual disregard for authority. She continued to visit me for the occasional gossip, but I couldn’t help notice that these visits were becoming less frequent. The weather took a turn for the worse to the extent that even Bertram would not go out to shoot. He decided to teach me cribbage, which of course my father had already taught me. I beat him soundly each time and he became quite grumpy. I suggested chess and he agreed. I was still a better player, but as I suspected his rash and unpredictable style of gaming made him difficult to anticipate and therefore difficult to beat. At times his moves were erratic, but on occasion they were brilliant. I appreciated perhaps more than ever before that Bertram had a first-class brain and very little in his life that allowed him to put it to use.

I also discovered that Richard’s father must have handed over the stocking of the library to someone else, so that quite by chance there were some excellent books included. What with these, the daily duels of chess, and reading the morning paper, I felt in better mental fettle than I had for years. I even indulged in brushing up a little on my Greek. Bertram did catch me reading it, but fortunately he didn’t understand. I suspected Bertram was not strong on languages, ancient or modern. He could be incorrigibly lazy when his interest was not aroused. Both required considerable application and I saw more clearly than ever before this was not in his make-up. I despaired that he would ever find true happiness unless he could find some purpose other than the rebuilding of White Orchards. However, much as I regarded him with affection and even dared to think of him as a friend, there was no way I could ever broach the subject with him. If only he had had the guiding hand of a father as excellent as mine.