The Mitford Murders

by Jessica Fellowes

  ‘How will we explain her to Mrs Windsor?’ asked Nancy.

  ‘We’ll have to ask Nanny Blor to say that she’d asked her down, as a friend of her twin sister’s,’ said Louisa. ‘That’s the best solution I can think of.’

  ‘It probably is,’ said Nancy. ‘Also, Farve and I thought we could tell Mrs Windsor that you had been drafted in as an extra lady’s maid for me and some of the guests staying over.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Louisa. ‘I know you and your parents must be finding this all very hard.’

  ‘Worse things happen at sea,’ said Nancy. ‘I’ve had another idea – why don’t I telegram to Mr Johnsen and ask him to come, too?’

  ‘Mr Johnsen?’

  ‘You remember, that funny little solicitor we went to see. I just thought that seeing as Muv is scrabbling around trying to find men to come to the dance, she wouldn’t think it too odd if I said I had another name. I could ask him to look over Florence Shore’s will again, see if anything else comes to light. It might help.’

  ‘Everything is worth a try,’ agreed Louisa.

  The streets were almost empty bar the odd car driving through, its headlamps sweeping across them. Louisa saw lights come on in the windows of the village cottages, and pictured the cosy hearths glowing, the hot suppers being put down on the tables. Nancy walked silently for a while, absorbing it all. She was so different, thought Louisa, from the girl of only a few months ago, who would have babbled her alarm.

  ‘I must say,’ Nancy said at last, squaring her shoulders as she did so, ‘I was hoping for drama at my dance but I didn’t think it would quite be this.’

  ‘Guy wants it all done with as little fuss as possible. We don’t want to ruin your party. It’s just that we can’t see another time to bring everyone together. Apart from anything else, we don’t know where Roland is; we only know that he is coming here tomorrow night.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nancy, ‘I know. Will you ask him about your uncle and find out what happened?’

  This had crossed Louisa’s mind several times in the past few days. She had been thinking about him, perhaps with more sympathy now that he might be dead. Hadn’t he been a man driven to desperation by others? Didn’t she, after all, know that feeling only too well? He certainly hadn’t deserved the ending she’d had meted out to him by Roland, even if that hadn’t been her intention in the first place.

  ‘I suppose it will all come out eventually,’ she said. ‘I can’t really say I like thinking about it.’

  They walked in front of a window where the lights were on but the curtains hadn’t been drawn and Louisa saw Nancy’s womanly beauty for what felt like the first time. Her dark hair was tucked underneath, as if in a bob, and her pale face offset her dark eyes and long lashes, and her pink lips that always looked sulky even when she was in a good mood. The loose cut of her coat was more grown-up, too, with stylish pearl buttons and embroidered cuffs. Louisa felt drear by comparison, as if the shabbiness of her own coat had the power to return them to the status of nursery maid and eldest daughter. Yet Louisa knew she understood this emerging woman, who had had to take on such unexpected events in a matter of days and dealt with them with good humour.

  ‘I had better be getting back,’ said Nancy. ‘Blor will go mad if she thinks I’ve been bicycling in the dark.’ She saw Louisa’s look of concern and laughed. ‘I’ve got a lamp, don’t worry.’

  ‘I won’t,’ said Louisa. ‘I know you can look after yourself these days.’

  Nancy stood before her, her face softening. ‘It’s funny, I’ve been longing and longing for this to arrive. To be a grown-up. And now I find myself worrying how I’m going to do without you. We’ve had some fun, haven’t we?’

  Louisa felt a pang. How would she do without Nancy and her sisters? But she smiled and said, ‘Yes, Miss Nancy, we’ve had some fun.’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Louisa had got up when it was still dark, having hardly slept; Roland, Stephen and Guy had walked across her mind throughout the night. She dressed and got herself some bread and butter from the kitchen without even switching any lights on, not wishing to disturb Jonny’s parents, before she crept out into the street. By the time she came to the familiar stone wall, the day had dawned with mist covering the fields beyond the gardens, isolating Asthall Manor as if it was an island.

  Louisa braced herself and walked in through the back door to the kitchen, surprising, as she knew she would, Mrs Stobie and Ada. Mrs Stobie declared that she had nearly dropped an enormous saucepan of boiling water and Ada came rushing over to give her a hug.

  ‘Whatever are you doing here?’ she said. ‘Mrs Windsor’ll be in here any moment. It’s the party tonight, you know. Nancy’s eighteenth.’

  ‘I know. I’ve been asked to come and help out as a sort of lady’s maid for some of the guests,’ said Louisa, hoping the quaver in her voice wouldn’t catch her out in a lie. ‘I think Mrs Windsor will have been told.’

  Indeed, Mrs Windsor walked in at that moment, saw Louisa and said nothing, but acknowledged her with a curt nod before giving instructions to Mrs Stobie and sweeping out again. The three of them exchanged glances, then Mrs Stobie said she couldn’t be standing about all day, didn’t they know there was a party on. As it was going to be some time until she could do the real thing she was there to do, Louisa asked for some tasks and soon she found herself in the library with a duster, searching out nooks and crannies that had been missed in the previous days of preparation.

  She was just reaching up to some of the higher shelves – tall men might notice the dust up there – when she heard a gasp and, on turning around, saw Pamela standing there, her dark brown hair hanging in thick, messy curls to her shoulders, a scruffy day dress stretched on a figure that was filling out. Perhaps she had never been called pretty but she had a sweetness that radiated.

  ‘Louisa!’ she said in happy amazement. ‘When ever did you get here? Nobody told me you were coming back. Are you back?’

  ‘Just for tonight,’ said Louisa, ‘to help with the guests and things. I think it was easier to ask somebody who knew their way around a bit.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Pamela. ‘There do seem to be hundreds of people here, though. The fuss has been going on for weeks.’

  ‘You’ll like it when it’s your turn.’ Louisa smiled but Pamela pulled a pained face.

  Two men came in carrying a huge stack of chairs each, obscuring their heads completely, so only their legs were visible beneath. They put them down with grunts and walked out again, only to be replaced by two further men bringing in a narrow table.

  ‘Where have all these people come from?’ asked Louisa.

  ‘The neighbours,’ said Pamela. ‘They’ve all been lending us their gardeners and footmen; we’ve even got two butlers, which has put Mrs Windsor’s nose out of joint, I can tell you. In return, they’ve got an invitation to the party of the year.’ The last was said in an undeniably sarcastic tone, but Pamela couldn’t really do meanness and she wrinkled her nose comically as she said it, making Louisa laugh.

  ‘Do you know where Nancy is?’ asked Louisa.

  ‘Yes,’ said Pamela. ‘In her room preening. Shall I fetch her?’

  ‘Could you just let her know I’m here?’ said Louisa, and Pamela ran off.

  At midday, Mrs Stobie was sweating in the kitchen, pulling out tray after tray of tiny puff pastry vol-au-vents, which borrowed maids were stuffing with prawns in mayonnaise. Louisa was nervously polishing teaspoons and even Ada had snapped twice at Mrs Farley’s hallboy for dropping coal in the drawing room. The rush of people criss-crossing in all directions gave the house the atmosphere of Victoria station. Guests had started to arrive and were being shown to their rooms, but a few had wandered down and were in the morning room. The bell had rung several times with requests for cups of tea and plates of sandwiches, so Louisa had installed herself in the kitchen to help with these ad hoc requests. Mrs Stobie looked to be on the point of exploding already and
Louisa wondered if she’d survive the night.

  In amongst all the bustle, it was amazing that Louisa heard the gentle knock at the back door. Nobody went, so she opened it herself and saw Guy standing there, shivering slightly. The sun was high and the mist had dissolved but the air was still sharp.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness,’ he said, on seeing Louisa.

  ‘You’d better come in,’ she said. ‘There’s all sorts of people here today, so they won’t notice you.’

  Guy nodded. He looked as serious as she’d ever seen him. She took his coat from him and hung it in the porch, then handed him a duster.

  ‘You’d better look busy,’ she said, ‘then no one will ask anything.’

  ‘I keep thinking about all the things that could go wrong,’ he whispered.

  ‘Me too,’ she whispered back.

  They had just stepped into the kitchen when they saw a young maid in the doorway, asking if anyone had seen Louisa Cannon. ‘That’s me,’ said Louisa.

  ‘His Lordship asks if you could go to his study,’ said the maid, dropping a small curtsey, then blushing as she realised she’d done the wrong thing. She scuttled off.

  Louisa motioned to Guy to follow her. When they pushed open the heavy door, they saw Lord Redesdale and Nancy inside.

  ‘You sent for me, my lord,’ she said. ‘Guy Sullivan is here. I thought perhaps he should come, too.’

  Lord Redesdale harrumphed in reply. He was standing by his desk in his walking clothes – long spats and a worn tweed suit. Nancy was sitting on the sofa in riding jodhpurs and an old jumper, which Louisa knew to be her most comforting clothes, although she was rarely allowed to get away with wearing them outside the stables.

  ‘We need to know the plan,’ said Lord Redesdale.

  Guy stepped forwards. ‘Absolutely, my lord,’ he said. ‘Forgive me, I’ve only just got here.’

  ‘Get on with it.’

  Nancy mouthed ‘sorry’ to Guy but he shook his head; it didn’t matter.

  ‘We’ve had permission from the superintendent of the London, Brighton and South Coast Railway Police to make the arrest, and he has also enlisted Detective Inspector Haigh of the Metropolitan police force. We believe he may be sending down extra cars and men to come here tonight,’ began Guy.

  Lord Redesdale slammed his hand on the desk. ‘I thought this was going to happen with the minimum of fuss? This isn’t bloody Scotland Yard!’

  ‘Nobody will enter the party,’ said Guy, relieved to hear himself sounding calm and authoritative. More than he felt, at any rate. ‘I will meet them and direct them to stay out of the way so that they are unseen by your guests.’

  Lord Redesdale grunted again.

  ‘Before that, however, Mabel Rogers is scheduled to arrive on the six o’clock train. Louisa will go with the driver to collect her from the station. We will then ask her to identify Roland Lucknor.’

  ‘That’s all very well,’ said Lord Redesdale, ‘but where is Roland going to be? How are we going to keep an eye on him? According to you, he might start shooting us all like some crazed murderer!’

  ‘I don’t think that, my lord, but we do need to keep him in our sight. Might I suggest that that be Miss Nancy’s role? He won’t suspect anything then.’ Guy looked to Nancy on the sofa.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’ll keep him with me.’

  ‘You must act as if all is well but don’t leave yourself alone with him at any point,’ said Guy. Louisa couldn’t help feeling a wave of admiration for the way he was handling all this.

  ‘I understand,’ said Nancy.

  The door was abruptly pushed open. Tom stood there open-mouthed. ‘I say, Louisa!’ he exclaimed, ‘nobody told me you were here.’ He rushed in and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  Louisa patted his head and pulled him off her gently. ‘I’ll come up and see you,’ she said quietly. ‘You’d better get back to the nursery.’

  Tom looked around the room and seemed to feel the seriousness that hung in the air. ‘Hello, sir,’ he said to his father. ‘I just got back from school, you know. Special exeat for the party.’

  ‘Yes, my boy,’ said Lord Redesdale. ‘I know. We’ll go out in a bit, check the traps—’ He broke off as he heard his wife calling out Tom’s name, then she came into the room. She stopped when she saw who had gathered in there.

  ‘Would somebody like to explain to me what’s going on?’ she said.

  Nancy stood. ‘Sorry, Muv, I meant to tell you. I asked Louisa back to help me and some of my friends,’ she said. ‘And this is Guy Sullivan – he’s been lent by Mrs Farley for the day. Farve was just giving him some instructions.’

  Lady Redesdale looked as if she was about to object, and in the strongest terms, then saw that there were other battles she was going to have to fight that day. ‘Very well,’ she said, glaring at Louisa. ‘Just for today.’ She left the room, dragging Tom with her.

  ‘There’s nothing more to say,’ said Lord Redesdale. ‘You’d better leave and do whatever it is you need to do.’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  At seven o’clock, the houseguests had started to assemble in the drawing room, the men in white tie, the women in long dresses and evening gloves, all eager to begin the festivities for the night. Footmen carried trays of filled champagne glasses and candles had been lit, throwing everybody into a soft, flattering light. Ivy had been draped over picture frames and vases of hothouse roses were placed on any exposed flat surface. The chatter was low but anticipation was high.

  Lady Redesdale, in a grey silk dress, had joined them and was sitting on the sofa by the fire, her eye on her husband. She still looked rattled by the sight she had seen in the study earlier.

  Louisa had peeked around the door, looking for Nancy. She went back out into the hall, where both the fires had been lit, setting off the sheen of the wooden panels, which had been highly polished for the event, and then saw her coming down the stairs. She was wearing a long sheath-like dress of silvery-white satin, revealing her narrow figure. Her hair was glossy and her lips looked as if they had had a dab of reddish colour.

  Nanny Blor was standing in the hall, trying to keep control of Diana and Decca, who were overexcited at all the commotion and running in circles around her legs, while she made exasperated noises. Unity stood quietly, staring into the fire, her blond bob shining from the light of the flames. When Nancy came in, standing in the middle of the hall for what could only have been dramatic effect, Nanny looked up at her and, in a voice heavy with concern, said, ‘Miss Nancy, aren’t you cold in that dress?’

  This made Nancy and Louisa giggle, then Nanny caught it and, before long, so had Pamela, until all four of them were convulsed with laughter, tears rolling down Nancy’s face.

  ‘Oh, do stop!’ she said. ‘I shall mess myself up again.’

  Louisa had enjoyed the break in the tension but her heart soon resumed its hammering, like a woodpecker. They didn’t know exactly when Roland would arrive and it was this suspense that was putting her on edge. She jumped, then, when the front door was opened, but saw instead her old friend Jennie come in, on the arm of a man who bore the confidence of someone who had had luck and good looks since boyhood. Louisa stayed near the back of the hall, close to Nanny Blor, but Jennie saw her and came running over.

  ‘Louisa,’ she exclaimed and clutched her arm, before leaning her head in and whispering, ‘I’m so pleased you’re here. I still find these things terrifying.’

  If only you knew, thought Louisa, but she smiled at her friend. ‘You look beautiful,’ she said, and she did, her golden hair and creamy skin offset perfectly by rose chiffon with long grey gloves and a tiara – the privilege of married women.

  ‘Come and meet Richard,’ said Jennie and pulled her over to her husband, who was talking to Nancy, wishing her a happy birthday.

  Nancy seemed almost to have forgotten there was anything to think about than the party ahead of her that night, and was laughing gaily with him. She grabbed a glass of
Champagne from a waiter and raised an eyebrow of triumph at her nursery maid as she did so. Louisa exchanged a few words with Richard, though she felt self-consciously aware of the fact that she was there as a maid and not as a guest, and as soon as she politely could, she broke off the conversation, saying she had things to do.

  Nancy took Jennie and Richard on either side of her and the three went to the drawing room, the silver threads on Nancy’s dress catching the light as she walked.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  As Louisa watched Nancy and Jennie leave the room, she was startled by a gentle touch on her shoulder. Guy. ‘It’s time for you to leave for the station,’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ stammered Louisa. ‘Is there a car ready?’

  ‘Round the back,’ said Guy. He winked at her in an attempt at levity. ‘You’re frightfully posh now.’

  Louisa tried to smile back but she was overwhelmed with nerves. It was all going to happen now; there was no turning back. ‘Goodbye,’ she said. ‘Good luck.’

  Having grabbed her coat and hat, Louisa stepped outside and saw a driver in livery standing beside Lord Redesdale’s car. When Lady Redesdale took the car to London she occasionally paid a man from the village to be her driver, but this wasn’t him. ‘Are you meeting the seven-thirty train, miss?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Louisa. ‘I think we need to get a move on.’

  The driver doffed his cap and Louisa had the briefest sensation of what it must be to be rich and have drivers. It wasn’t unpleasant.

  Guy, meanwhile, had to stop himself from running out after her. The truth was, something was itching under his skin. For all that they had their plans in place, something wasn’t sitting quite right with him. He walked out of the hallway and tried to find a quiet corner somewhere but it was impossible. Although the party hadn’t quite got into the full swing yet, there was an atmosphere of jubilation that was hard to ignore. From the kitchen came a hubbub of heat and crashing pans, and there were still hired hands quick-marching along the passageways, each one carrying something or at least with a look of purposeful intent upon their faces. In the end, he chanced upon what must have been Mrs Stobie’s office, a tiny room barely larger than the desk and chair squeezed into it. Cookbooks were piled on the desk and there were scraps of paper with notes that looked like proposed menus. Guy checked that nobody was looking and slipped in. With the door closed, he could almost shut out the noise beyond.