The servants’ entrance was down some stone steps, which opened out into what could best be described as a small courtyard, hidden from view from the gardens by a high wall topped with wrought iron railings. Rose clung to the ice cold hand rail with one hand, bag in the other, as she negotiated the stairs which were steep and would, she imagined, be particularly treacherous in bad weather. The courtyard was empty, though the noise from the hustle and bustle of the servants’ quarters came readily enough to her ears, for across the courtyard a door to the basement of the house was open. She made her way towards the doorway and, peering into the gloom, discovered that it opened into a narrow passage, which had a dark and dingy feel to it due to the lack of natural light.
Rose hurried along the passage, glancing as she went at the rooms she passed, some of which were occupied with servants busy about their tasks: a washroom, a housemaid’s closet, a brushing room, a boot room … She knew that the more important rooms must lie beyond: the kitchen, the scullery, the stillroom, the butler’s pantry, the housekeeper’s sitting room … But it was not towards these that Rose made her way. Instead she followed the passage around until it opened out, as she had hoped it would, into the servants’ hall. This she knew was the staff’s great communal area with its huge scrubbed wooden table and the bell board, which hung in a commanding position upon the wall, driving the servants’ lives.
The room was large but not airy due to the windows being positioned high up on the wall and seemingly insufficient in both size and number to light such a vast room. The sage painted walls and heavy dark wooden chairs that littered the room or were drawn up to the table did little to relieve the gloomy atmosphere. A number of servants were present, engaged in various tasks which ranged from darning socks to polishing silver. They were either too engrossed in their occupations, or in their conversations, the gentle hum from which filled the room, to notice Rose’s entrance immediately. This afforded her a moment or two to take stock of the situation and summon the necessary courage to see her deception through. All at once, the conversations stopped abruptly. A few of the servants pushed back their chairs and rose from their seats, others paused or looked up from their various occupations. A small, middle-aged woman in a black dress, not dissimilar to Rose’s own, seemed to appear as if from nowhere and bustle forward. A bunch of keys hung from her belt and moved with each step she took. Despite her small stature, the woman had a commanding presence and the other servants appeared to defer to her.
‘You must be Lady Lavinia’s lady’s maid? I’m glad to see you. We didn’t know whether her ladyship would be bringing her own maid with her or not. We’re a bit short-staffed as you can probably tell, so we would have been hard pushed to assign one of the housemaids to her ladyship. Truth be told, we didn’t know her ladyship would be staying until a day or two ago. Mrs Mellor, that’s our cook, has been working night and day to prepare the dishes, so she has.’
The woman had been talking very fast, hardly pausing for breath. She did so now as she appraised the young woman before her. Rose felt herself blush, the obsolete spectacles digging into her nose, her scalp aching from her hair having been drawn back into a severe bun.
‘I’m Mrs Field,’ said the woman. ‘I’m the housekeeper here.’
‘Denning. Daisy Denning,’ Rose said quickly. The name sounded ridiculous even to her own ears, but Lavinia had been insistent. ‘If I can’t call you Rose,’ she had said, ‘I’ll have to call you the name of another flower or else I’ll forget.’
‘Well Miss Denning, I daresay you could do with a cup of tea after your journey? As I’ve said, we didn’t know whether her ladyship would be bringing her own maid with her or not, so Martha here will need to make up your bed.’ She turned away to address one of the maids sitting at the table. The maid in question had her back to Rose, and she alone had not looked up at Rose’s arrival. ‘Chop, chop my girl.’ The housekeeper inclined her head towards another girl. ‘Agnes, you can help her and you can take Miss Denning’s bag up with you while you’re at it.’
‘Now, Miss Denning, you can sup your tea while they’re getting your room ready. Mr Mason will want to see you. I’ll have your tea brought into the butler’s pantry for you. Happen Mr Mason could do with a cup himself.’
Relieved of her bag, Rose found herself ushered out of the room into another passage. She passed the kitchen, the scullery and the stillroom before she came to the butler’s pantry. The door was open. A tall and very thin man, she assumed to be Mr Mason, was standing behind a large wooden table. On spying her, he indicated a chair drawn up in front of the desk. As Rose sat down, she quickly and surreptitiously glanced around the room. Her eye spotted what she had been seeking, a mahogany case of Chippendale style with a polished top. This was the Bramah jewellery safe cabinet. If the rather innocuous looking door were to be opened, it would reveal an iron safe complete with handle and lock plate.This was where Mrs Grayson-Smith’s jewel case had been kept and in all probability currently resided. It had been returned to this resting place on the morning of the theft, and retrieved from it a little while later at the behest of the mistress who, on opening the case, had discovered her diamond necklace to be missing.
‘Begging your pardon, but this is Miss Denning, Mr Mason. She’s Lady Lavinia’s lady’s maid,’ said Mrs Field. ‘Miss Denning, this is Mr Mason. He is the butler here.’
The housekeeper had remained at the door as if she intended to stop for only a moment before returning to her duties. It transpired however that she intended to stay, ostensibly to oversee the provision of the refreshments.
‘Miss Denning.’ The butler inclined his head in acknowledgement and gave Rose something of a stern look. Certainly he seemed to draw himself up, almost to puff out his pigeon chest. ‘I am glad to make your acquaintance. Welcome to Crossing Manor. You are lady’s maid to a member of the British aristocracy. I am sure, therefore, that I do not need to tell you what will be expected of you while you are here. We take very seriously the smooth running of the house, which can only be satisfactorily achieved if each member of staff knows his or her own role and responsibilities in proceedings and undertakes them efficiently and effectively.’
‘Indeed, Mr Mason,’ Rose said, trying not to fidget in her seat. ‘You are quite right.’
She felt herself to be under intense scrutiny and wondered if she was found wanting. Her hair, her clothes, even her spectacles. She reminded herself that the dress she wore was one of Eliza Denning’s and as such quite suitable for the role in hand. She stared back politely at the butler. He himself wore a plain dark waistcoat and tailcoat and she thought that the three of them in their sombre black clothes looked as if they had a funereal air about them, quite fitting with the dark green, cold grey and drab brown colours of their surroundings. The room felt small and claustrophobic, likewise the passages beyond. It was as if they were small animals scurrying around in their own little tunnels.
‘Good. Well, I think that is all for now.’ The butler returned his gaze to some papers on his desk.
Rose got up from her seat. She felt as a child might, dismissed by its school-mistress and sent on its way. The exchange of words had been so brief that there had not even been time for her to have her cup of tea. As she made for the door the tea was being brought in and she almost collided with the tray.
‘Miss Denning will have her tea in the servants’ hall,’ Mrs Field said quickly to the stillroom maid. ‘Mr Mason and I will have our tea in here. Nellie, are Martha and Agnes down yet? Miss Denning will want to see her room.’
In the servants’ hall Rose gulped down the cup of tea, which was scalding, and then followed the girl she knew to be Agnes up what appeared to be endless flights of stairs. The stairs themselves, used exclusively by the servants, were uncarpeted and steep, a poor relation to the undoubtedly richly carpeted stairs used by the Grayson-Smiths’ and their guests. Memories of the grand staircases that Rose herself had climbed and descended while a house guest at various country ho
uses came flooding back. And it was with a sense of distaste that she negotiated the mean little staircases that were now her lot. Agnes, she noticed, was doing her best to tread quietly on the stairs. Rose did not feel the same compulsion to be quiet. However, she considered it best to follow the girl’s example.
Breathing rather heavily, they at last reached the end of the flights of stairs. A quick look about her revealed to Rose that they were at the very top of the house. This then was where the servants’ bedrooms were located, in the attics themselves. From what Mrs Field had said, the servants had not known that she would be coming. She wondered whether she would be required to share a room. If so, she would need to keep up the deception regarding her identity even in her sleep. The prospect was not an appealing one.
It was therefore with some relief that she discovered that she was to be the only occupant in the room assigned to her. The room itself was very sparsely furnished, having no more in it than a bed, a chest-of-drawers and a chair. The floor consisted of bare floorboards and there was nothing on the walls to relieve the tedious sage green colour. The doors of some of the other bedrooms had been open as they walked passed and she had noticed that some of the occupants had taken steps to make their rooms appear more homely. Some had put pictures on the walls, a rug or two on the floor or small bunches of flowers in vases on the chests.
‘We haven’t had a chance to air it proper,’ said Agnes. ‘I’d leave the window open if I were you. It don’t look as if it’ll rain. Martha unpacked your clothes and put them in the drawers. You haven’t brought much, if you don’t mind my saying.’
‘I don’t think we are staying for very long, a few days at most,’ said Rose carefully.
‘Oh? Well, that will explain it. I’d better go, or Mrs Field will get into one of her moods and then there’ll be no pleasing her.’
‘Are there only the two of you? Housemaids, I mean. You and Martha, was it?’
That’s right. There’s only me and Martha now,’ said Agnes, putting her hands on her ample hips, which were accentuated by her large, white bib apron. ‘Kitty went off and got married last month and weren’t replaced. There used to be more of us before the war, so Mrs Field says, when wages were low. Five or six. Housemaids-cum-parlour maids is what they call Martha and me now.’ She looked down at her uniform and started. ‘Lor’, I’m still in my blue cotton twill! I should have changed into my black alpaca dress ages ago. Mrs Field will have my guts for garters.’
With that, Agnes turned tail and fled to the bedroom she shared with Martha, presumably to get changed. Rose hovered in the corridor. She was very tempted to go into her own room and shut the door behind her, pretending to herself it was in order to gather her thoughts. It would, however, only be postponing the inevitable. She must return to the servants’ hall at some point; it might as well be now. For further encouragement, she reminded herself why she was there at Crossing Manor. It was no use hiding herself away. She had information to unearth and a diamond necklace to recover. It was with these thoughts in mind that she rather reluctantly retraced her steps and descended the staircases, enclosed and shut off from the rest of the house by the green baize doors on every landing.
‘Oh, there you are.’ Mrs Field hurried over to Rose as soon as she reappeared in the servants’ hall. ‘You took your time, I must say. Her ladyship, she’s been asking for you these past five minutes. You’d best hurry.’
Rose went back down the passage and retraced her steps up the enclosed, pokey little stairs. Thankfully she would not be required to go up so many flights this time for the guest and family bedrooms were located on the first floor. She followed the brief directions provided her by Mrs Field. Lavinia had been assigned a room, referred to rather grandly as the Sovereign Room.
She pulled open the green baize door and emerged on to a landing which for all the world could have belonged to another house, so sharply did it contrast with the grim and austere surroundings of the servants’ quarters. There was a richly patterned carpet upon the floor and the walls were painted a soft green and decorated here and there with portraits and pictures of still life. In an alcove, a marble-topped console table in rosewood balanced a generous and elaborate flower arrangement. She felt for a moment as if she had moved from winter to summer, from dark into light.
The Sovereign Room was located halfway down the corridor, opposite Mrs Grayson-Smith’s bedroom. Rose opened the door to find Lavinia, as always, at the dressing-table, gazing at her reflection. The girl was concentrating on dabbing at her face with some rouge, which provided Rose with an opportunity to look about the bedroom. It was a well-proportioned room and beautifully decorated. The hangings of the four poster bed and the window curtains were of chintz and comprised an old French design of rosebuds on a pale gold background. The walls and woodwork had been colour-washed and varnished and tinted yellow, which complemented the pale yellow carpet on the floor. Both a Queen Anne chair and the dressing-table had been covered in a burnished gold damask. Sunlight flooded through the windows lighting up the shades of gold and yellow in the most delightful fashion. The overall effect was of a tasteful opulence. Rose thought disparagingly of her own bare little room high up in the eaves.
‘I rang for you ages ago,’ complained Lavinia, swinging around on the stool.
‘You really must remember that I am not actually your servant,’ Rose said firmly, sitting on the bed and removing her spectacles. ‘I say, I wish I hadn’t let you persuade me to wear these, they’re pinching my nose like anything.’
‘All part of the disguise,’ replied Lavinia. ‘Now look here, I didn’t want this tea to get cold. I requested a pot so that you could have a cup too.’
‘You didn’t ask for two cups, did you?’ asked Rose in alarm. ‘I’m sure it’s not the done thing for a lady’s maid to take tea with her employer.’
‘Well, of course I didn’t. What do you take me for?’
Rose thought it prudent not to reply.
‘As it happens, I’ve been frightfully clever,’ continued Lavinia. ‘Look, I’ve brought this cup from Sedgwick.’ She produced a fine bone china cup and saucer. ‘No one will ever know you’re having tea with me.’ She frowned. ‘I would have said take the weight off your feet too, but I see you’ve done that already.’
‘Yes,’ said Rose, pouring out the tea. ‘I say, where’s your luggage? No doubt you expect me to unpack for you and hang up your gowns?’
‘The maid has already done that.’ Lavinia sniffed. ‘She was a strange little creature, I must say. She probably would have been frightfully pretty but her nose was all red and her eyes were swollen and puffy.’ She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Do you know, I think she’d been crying; she looked awfully sad.’
‘That must have been Martha. There are only two housemaids and Agnes was busy showing me to my room.’
‘Oh? What is it like, your room? I’ve never been in a servant’s room.’
‘Not a patch on yours. You wouldn’t like it one little bit. It’s up flights and flights of stairs right up in the attic. And it’s tiny, about a quarter of the size of this room. There’s very little furniture and no carpet on the floor and –’
‘It sounds absolutely dreadful,’ said Lavinia quickly, making a face. ‘Now tell me, what have you discovered?’
Chapter Six
‘Lavinia, we have been here less than an hour,’ protested Rose. ‘That’s very little time for me to have discovered anything.’
‘But you must have met the servants. Didn’t one of them look guilty?’
‘I’ve only really met three of the staff, and very briefly at that.’ Rose counted on her fingers as she reeled off the names. ‘Mason, the butler, Mrs Field, the housekeeper and Agnes, one of the housemaids. I really only have first impressions of them.’
‘I always make up my mind about people within five minutes of meeting them,’ said Lavinia.
‘Good for you!’ said Rose. ‘Now, listen. We need to find out first who had an opport
unity to steal the necklace. You told me that Mrs Grayson-Smith suspects her lady’s maid, Cooper. I haven’t met her yet, but I think she is definitely a suspect. She and Mrs Grayson-Smith were the last two people to see the necklace.’
‘Yes,’ said Lavinia, a frown appearing on her face as she tried to recall her conversation in the tearooms. ‘According to Millicent, the necklace was there first thing in the morning; both she and her lady’s maid remember seeing it on top of her jewel box. It was still there when Millicent went to have her bath but, according to Cooper, it had gone when she came back from running the bath. She assumed her mistress had put it back in the jewel box.’
‘In which case, Cooper could not have not returned straight to the room after running the bath,’ Rose said, more to herself than to her companion. ‘If she had, Mrs Grayson-Smith would still have been in the bedroom.’
‘That’s right. Now I come to think about it, Millicent said the maid knocked on her door and said something like: “Your bath is ready for you, ma’am.” She didn’t come in. I suppose she must then have gone off to the servants’ quarters to do some chore or other.’
‘Or darted into an unoccupied bedroom to wait for her mistress to leave her room so that she could slip back and take the necklace,’ said Rose, looking about her. ‘If she did do that, this would have been the perfect room to hide in. It’s directly opposite Mrs Grayson-Smith’s. It would have been easy enough for Cooper to wait in here until the coast was clear. If she kept the door slightly ajar, she could easily have heard when her mistress went down the corridor to the bathroom.’
‘Oh, I say, do you think that’s what happened?’ exclaimed Lavinia, clapping her hands excitedly.
‘It is certainly possible. But it is just as likely that she was telling the truth and didn’t take the necklace. In which case she didn’t return to the room until after the theft had taken place. There would have been a short period of time between Mrs Grayson-Smith leaving the room to go for her bath and her lady’s maid returning, when the room would have been unoccupied.’
Murder in the Servants' Hall Page 5