MURDER
IN THE
SERVANTS’ HALL
by Margaret Addison
A Rose Simpson Mystery
Copyright
Copyright 2016 Margaret Addison
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without prior written permission from Margaret Addison except for the inclusion of quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Rose Simpson Mysteries (in order)
Murder at Ashgrove House
Murder at Dareswick Hall
Murder at Sedgwick Court
Murder at Renard’s
Murder in the Servants’ Hall
Chapter One
‘Where is it?’ demanded Millicent Grayson-Smith, staring in disbelief at her jewel box, the lid of which had been thrown back to reveal its glittering contents.
For a moment, before the rising wave of panic completely overcame her, Millicent admired the various necklaces and trinkets, the gold and silver shining brightly in the sunlight, pouring in at the windows. She stared at the precious stones which caught the light and gleamed and twinkled at her in a most appealing fashion. If she had been alone and at leisure she would have picked them up, giggled and let them trickle through her fingers very much as she had done with sand on the beach as a child. But she was neither idle nor by herself, and the wonderful feeling of peace and abandonment that she had felt as an infant had forsaken her. The harsh reality of the situation bore down on her. For, unless her eyes were deceiving her, which of course was a very real possibility for she always slept so badly in this house and consequently awoke tired and fatigued, it was not there.
Millicent sat at her dressing table and with trembling hands began to pull out the contents on to the glass surface with clumsy movements. Two or three necklaces came out together, their chains becoming caught and tangled and the respective gems which descended from them clattered together. She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath abruptly halted. An indication of her lady’s maid’s disapproval at her mistress’ careless actions. However, when Millicent looked up and caught her maid’s reflection in the mirror, Cooper’s face was its usual expressionless self. There was nothing in the handsome features which gave away her thoughts. And yet Millicent was left with the odd and unsettling impression that, had she looked up only a second or two earlier, she might have just caught the girl releasing her bottom lip as if she had been biting it fleetingly, to contain her annoyance, with those fine teeth of hers. If that were indeed so, Cooper had regained her composure remarkably quickly and Millicent envied her this, particularly when she glanced down at her own shaking hands, which betrayed her own emotions so vividly.
‘Where is it?’ repeated Millicent. There was a touch of anger and impatience in her voice this time, though she knew it would be most unwise to lose her temper.
‘Ma’am?’
‘The diamond necklace, of course.’ Really, the girl was being very unhelpful. Surely she wasn’t really that dense? ‘The one I was wearing last night. Where is it?’
‘I’m sure I don’t know, ma’am. I thought –’
‘What did you think?’ cut in Millicent. ‘I left it on the top of my jewel box last night, as well you know. You must have seen it there when you came in this morning with my tea and toast.’
‘I did of course, ma’am. It was staring up at me ever so bold.’
‘Well, where is it then?’
‘I don’t know, really I don’t. I’ll say this though, ma’am. I didn’t see it after I came back from running your bath.’
‘What nonsense. It must have been there. And you didn’t say anything at the time to the contrary. Why did you take the box down to Mason for safekeeping if you knew the necklace was missing?’ Even to Millicent’s own ears her voice had become unpleasantly shrill.
‘I didn’t know how it was missing, ma’am. I just thought you had put the necklace back in the jewel box.’
Velda Cooper might just as well have added ‘where it should have been in the first place’ or equally something to the effect that any responsible person would have put the necklace away in the box last night, instead of leaving it out to catch dust and tempt even the most honest servant to be light-fingered. At least that was the impression the girl managed to convey to Millicent. Whether this was because of the girl’s manner, which had become sullen, or the now impertinent look in her eye, or perhaps a combination of the two, Millicent was not sure. All she knew was that she could read the girl’s thoughts as clearly as if she had spoken them aloud. It was patently clear her lady’s maid was of the view that if only her mistress had seen fit to shut the necklace away as soon as she had unclasped it from her neck and given her the key, well, then there would be none of this present fuss and nonsense. If madam would discard her necklace in such a cavalier fashion, what did she expect?
‘You didn’t think to check?’ Millicent asked rather weakly. She dropped her head on her hand in such a manner as to screen her eyes from her servant.
‘No, ma’am. It didn’t occur to me that the necklace had gone missing.’
Cooper now stood there in front of Millicent in an upright manner, her hands clasped behind her back, her face sombre. It was very hard to detect anything behind those large, almost black eyes, framed with rich, thick lashes which required no artificial aid to darken them. Millicent wondered if her earlier impressions of the girl had been mistaken. If only there was a hint of sympathy or empathy in the face thought Millicent. It was obvious that Velda Cooper did not care about her plight. Millicent shivered. Perhaps the girl even got a horrid satisfaction from it. For it was yet another illustration of Millicent’s inadequacy to fulfil the role of wife to an esteemed man like Edwin Grayson-Smith.
How dreadful it was to be so unsure of yourself and the role you were expected to play, Millicent thought. Worse still to have a confident and adept lady’s maid who did not even try to conceal the fact that she neither liked nor respected you. That was the awful position Millicent felt herself to be in. To make matters worse, the girl was possessed of looks that she, Millicent, could only dream of. Millicent, who had always been rather intimidated by the presence of beauty in others, felt dowdy and lacking, and yes, despite the differences in their stations, distinctly inferior.
A thorough search of Millicent’s bedroom, undertaken by the housemaids under the strict supervision of Mrs Field, the housekeeper, did not reveal the necklace. It had not fallen behind the tallboy as Millicent had rather desperately hoped it had, or dropped on to the floor to become hidden in the rich, ornate pattern of the Persian carpet. Nothing was left to chance. Every piece of furniture was taken apart and examined. Drawers were pulled out and their contents emptied on to the floor. Chairs were upturned and their upholstery examined. At one point it looked as if the room had been rifled by a professional burglar, so comprehensive was the exploration.
There was now no escaping the fact. The necklace was definitely missing. Though Millicent could hardly bring herself to consider the possibility, it appeared that the only logical explanation for the necklace’s disappearance was that it had been stolen. And to make matters worse, in all likelihood the thief was one of Edwin’s own servants. It did not seem at all inconceivable that the impertinent Cooper might be the culprit. Perhaps even now the necklace was wrapped up in an old cloth and hidden under the mattress in her c
old and draughty attic room. Trembling slightly at the thought, Millicent insisted that Mrs Field herself undertake a discreet but thorough search of the female servants’ bedrooms. Mason, the butler, carried out a similar investigation of the male servants’ quarters. It was, however, to no avail. For there was neither sight nor sound of the elusive necklace.
Left alone in her room, Millicent gave up all attempts at maintaining what her husband described as the good old British stiff upper lip, and gave way to her emotions as freely as if she had been a child. Her elbows balanced on the glass top of her dressing table, she buried her head in her hands and sobbed bitterly. She felt a justified anger at the theft. However, the truth was she reserved her harshest wrath towards her own conduct. Why, oh why, had she decided to wear that particular necklace last night? If one didn’t count the servants, there had only been the old vicar and his wife to see it clasped around her neck. Of course, she knew very well why. Old Mrs Kitchen was a dreadful gossip. Everyone knew that. Rather an undesirable attribute for a vicar’s wife to possess, she had always felt. But it had served her own purposes very well. In a few hours’ time everyone in the village of Crossing would know that Edwin Grayson-Smith had bestowed upon his second wife the necklace that he had given to his first wife on her wedding day and which Sophia, the first Mrs Grayson-Smith, had then proceeded to wear at every available opportunity from attending the opera to going to the hunt ball. If one were to listen to what Mrs Kitchen had to say on the matter, Sophia also sometimes wore it to go shopping, though why anyone would wear a heavy and ornate diamond necklace when they were engaged in such a pursuit, Millicent really did not know. The village gossip went further, claiming that she had been wearing the necklace when she had fallen from her horse, the accident which had resulted in her untimely death. Millicent preferred not to think about that, it was too horrid …
She uttered a sound somewhere between a sniff and a sigh. Really, what had she been thinking? Had she really thought that by wearing the necklace she was in some way providing undeniable proof, if indeed such proof were needed, that Edwin Grayson-Smith loved his shy, insignificant and insipid looking second wife as much as he had loved his beautiful, wealthy and accomplished first?
Whatever else, Millicent knew that she couldn’t bring herself to tell Edwin that the necklace was missing. He could never forgive her carelessness. She was sure of it. They would not have words. He was too much a gentleman to lose his temper and shout at her. Instead he would gaze at her reproachfully with those sad eyes of his, shake his head, and go down to the drawing room. There he would no doubt stare up at the great portrait of Sophia, which still hung above the mantelpiece. With such a commanding position, it dominated the whole room, the effect of which made Millicent feel as if she were some unwelcome charlatan trespassing on hallowed ground. The loss of the necklace would be one more reason for him to bitterly regret his hasty second marriage. Perhaps he would ask for Sophia’s forgiveness, as he stood before her likeness, for marrying again when her body was barely cold in her grave.
Millicent shuddered. I’m all to pieces, she thought, I’m no good. She sighed. She must get a hold of herself. It didn’t do to dwell on things one couldn’t change. She had made her bed and she must lie on it, as her mother would have said. With an effort, she lifted her head and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. The sight that greeted her did little to improve her despondent mood. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, and her nose was red and shiny, so much so, that no amount of powder was likely to disguise the fact. If it had not been for the servants she might have been inclined to keep to her room while she tried to decide what to do. But she had no intention of giving Cooper and the others any more material to speculate over. It was bad enough that they were probably at this very moment huddled together in the servants’ hall discussing the necklace and her carelessness in losing it.
Whatever else, she would go downstairs to the morning room. Perhaps she should summon Mason and lay it on the line, so to speak. She could tell him to inform the staff that, unless the necklace was returned within the next hour or two, she would call in the police. She could stress that she did not require to know the culprit’s identity, for she was sure that the butler would administer the appropriate punishment. She desired only the safe return of her possession. It was the most sensible approach to take given the circumstances but … Her resolve fizzled out as completely as if someone had poured cold water on it. What if no one owned up to the deed? She would then be obliged to carry out her threat and call in the police to investigate the crime. And then Edwin would have to know. What would he say? What would he think? The majority of the servants had been in the employ of the Grayson-Smith family for years. He trusted them explicitly. What would he say if his new wife were to accuse one of them of theft? He would instinctively take their side, she felt sure. Perhaps not in public, but certainly in private, and that would drive a wedge between them, something else to weaken their already fragile marriage. Even if he considered her accusation justified given the circumstances, what could he think but that his servants despised her. She put a hand to her burning cheek. She could not suffer such humiliation. Far better that the necklace be lost for eternity than that.
A part of Millicent wished that she had not discovered that the necklace was missing. If she had not decided on an impulse to ask Cooper to retrieve her jewel box, she would now be in blissful ignorance of the necklace’s fate. The simple single string of pearls that she had inherited from a grand aunt was more than sufficient to wear in the country, and she and Edwin rarely entertained in the evenings when more formal and elaborate jewellery was required. It might therefore have been months before she had discovered that the diamonds were missing. She bit her lip. But what to do now? That was the question. There was a bit of her that wondered if she might do nothing. If the necklace had not been so very valuable, or held so much sentimental value for her husband, then she might well have been inclined to pretend that it had been found. She could always say to Cooper that she had discovered it in the pocket of her negligée or some such garment and nobody would be any the wiser. It would be very weak of her to do such a thing, of course, but then she was very weak. She had never pretended to be otherwise. She had always hated unpleasantness …
But of course that was not a real option open to her. The desperateness of her situation stretched out before her, long and unyielding, and above all else, hopeless. With such dreary thoughts foremost in her mind, she was just about to give herself up to a further bout of sobbing, when her eyes chanced to alight on her dome top walnut bureau. It was a fine specimen of furniture, mounted on cabriole legs with carved acanthus leaves. The top of the bureau chanced to be open, a piece of correspondence laid out prominently on the embossed leather desk top, a reminder that it still required attending to. A wedding invitation. She bit her lip. It was a miserable reminder of the meagreness of her own wedding, which in contrast had been quiet and secluded. No invitations had been despatched, no one invited to attend the joyous occasion. Instead it had been rushed and hurried for no other purpose than that her husband’s first wife had not lain long in the ground. Edwin had considered it would not be seemly to have a lavish affair and she had been happy to accommodate his wishes. It was only now that she regretted that they had not had a longer engagement and that no announcement had been made.
As she contemplated this, her train of thought seemed to accelerate of its own accord. It brought to mind something else that she had forgotten, something that she had recently read in The Times newspaper and at the time had thought sounded very grand. If she concentrated, she was sure that she could recall the very words written on the page. A marriage has been arranged, and will shortly take place, between the Earl of Belvedere, only son of the late fifteenth Earl of Belvedere, and Rose Jane, only daughter of the late Mr Ernest Simpson … Her own wedding invitation alluded to a much less grand union, the wedding of Edwin’s niece, Miriam Sycamore, to a country solicitor. But the Sedgwick family
was not unfamiliar to her. She had met Lady Lavinia Sedgwick briefly at a tea party hosted by a relative of Edwin’s, which she had attended rather reluctantly. She had been minded to dismiss Lady Lavinia as being shallow and frivolous, but in point of fact she had delighted the room with stories concerning her brother’s fiancée, the woman shortly to become the next Countess of Belvedere. Now what was it she had said exactly? Yes, that was it. Miss Simpson had something of a reputation for being an amateur sleuth.
Millicent sat up with a start. An observer would have seen a glint come into her eyes, as if she were looking at something in the distance far beyond the confines of her richly furnished bedroom. She muttered to herself. It was quite ridiculous of course, for she had hardly said more than a few words to Lady Lavinia other than to exchange the usual pleasantries when they had been introduced. It was very probable that the late earl’s daughter would not even remember having met her, for Millicent had a tendency to remain on the very edges of conversations, a spectator rather than a contributor. She blushed at the thought that she might have made no impression at all on her ladyship, as if she might as well have been invisible. However, the potential humiliation that awaited her was not enough to stay her hand. It was very possible that she would be snubbed and dealt with coldly but she could see no other way out of her dilemma. With unusual determination, she made her way to Edwin’s study, closed the door firmly behind her, and with a trembling hand lifted the telephone receiver.
Chapter Two
‘I do hope you are not having second thoughts,’ said Cedric, Earl of Belvedere, looking anxiously at his companion. A frown appeared on his forehead, which had the temporary effect of prematurely aging him, so that for a moment he looked considerably older than a man in his early twenties. The chiselled features, which had a tendency to make his face look almost more beautiful than handsome, became vaguely distorted. ‘I don’t think I could bear it if you were.’
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