God Rob Ye Merry Gentleman

by Andrea Frazer

  ‘What else have you “mislaid”?’ asked Major Ferguson, with such a pointed emphasis on the last word of his question that she could actually hear the speech marks. ‘And have any of them turned up like the gloves?’

  ‘Unfortunately not. Let me see,’ she began, frantically searching her memory, ‘Great-Aunt Jemima’s silver conductor’s baton, ah, my favourite chain-link silver evening bag…’

  ‘And don’t forget my gold lighter,’ chimed in Hugo, suddenly tuning in to the conversation. ‘Oh, and a pair of rose-gold cufflinks that used to belong to Major’s father.’

  Major Ferguson instantly turned his head in Hugo’s direction, then shook it and closed his mouth, as he belatedly realised his mistake.

  ‘Not to mention Mrs Beauchamp’s engagement and wedding rings,’ concluded Lady A.

  ‘How extraordinarily coincidental,’ stated the major, followed by a sort of snorting noise that one would usually associate with a horse. ‘It must be contagious. I don’t know what the devil I’ve done with m’ gold cigarette case, and m’ wife seems to have mislaid a pair of diamond earrings and matching dress clips.’

  ‘Ditto!’ declared Audrey Alderton-Smythe, who had had to be invited due to her previous cocktail party at which Lady Amanda and Hugo were guests.

  ‘Knew a Captain Ditto once … strange name … in the army together. Now, where the devil were we stationed? Somewhere hot, that I do remember…’

  At this point, Lady Amanda broke into Major Ferguson’s rambling reminiscences, her voice dripping with acid, her eyes rolling in exasperation; a clear warning to anyone that they’d better zip it instantly. ‘Thank you so much for sharing that with us. Now, I seem to remember that Audrey was telling something rather pertinent to the subject we were actually discussing. Audrey?’

  Without batting an eyelid at this rather abrupt interruption to her conversational flow, the woman picked up where she had left off. ‘I can’t locate my Cartier watch, and Hubert’ – she gestured to her horsy husband – ‘has simultaneously mislaid his Rolex.’

  How vulgar to mention trade labels, thought Lady Amanda, as she turned her head towards Juniper, the major’s daughter, who had just asked, ‘Changing the subject a little bit, did any of you have a visit from a delightful group of children who performed carols impeccably, recently?’

  ‘Indeed we did,’ confirmed Hubert Alderton-Smythe, ‘and wasn’t the little girl with the recorder sweet, giving them the right starting note. I noticed there was even a bit of sporadic harmony.’

  ‘Quite took me back to my childhood,’ added Juniper wistfully, and for whom this must have been quite a feat of memory, as she was definitely well past her betroth-by date.

  ‘How unfortunate that they didn’t visit the vicarage,’ added the present incumbent of the local church.

  ‘Coals to Newcastle, Vicar,’ explained Lady Amanda with a wicked twinkle in her eye, but her mind was racing. She’d have to have a bit of a natter with good old Beauchamp later.

  ‘Shall we all play sardines?’ piped up Juniper, who hadn’t seemed to grasp the fact that she was well into middle age and that playing the ingénue simply didn’t suit her any more.

  ‘Can’t even eat the things anymore with these damned ill-fitting teeth,’ intoned a sepulchral voice from a distant armchair.

  ‘A little difficult for some of us, Juniper, as we’re not so supple as we used to be. What about a rubber of bridge?’ Lady A had provided a suitable diversion, and Beauchamps Major and Minor went to fetch the card tables and other necessaries for this plan. Beauchamp Major was gone longer than expected, and came back into the library with a puzzled expression on his face.

  ‘What is it, my man?’

  ‘I can’t seem to find the silver bridge pencils anywhere, your ladyship. They’re not where they’re supposed to be in the bureau, and I can’t lay my hands on them anywhere where I thought they could have been put in error.’

  As his son had finished erecting the tables, Lady A called to him, ‘Minor?’

  Major Ferguson was in there again, grasping the wrong end of the stick as usual. ‘Miner? Miner? We’re not in Wales or County Durham. Have you lost your marbles, dear lady?’ His short-term memory not being what it used to be, he had already forgotten the explanation that his hostess had given only a short while ago.

  Ignoring this outburst completely, Lady A carried on as if he hadn’t spoken, as the younger Beauchamp approached her. ‘I think you’ll find sufficient propelling pencils in my desk, if you’d care to look, although some of them may only be silver-plated, they will at least work. We can hardly keep score with pencils that have disappeared. And perhaps you two could rustle us up a light supper with which to sustain our endeavours?’ Both Beauchamps exited, Minor to Lady A’s desk and Major turning towards the kitchen quarters.

  A little later… ‘Snap!’ yelled Major Ferguson, slapping down a seven of spades on to a seven of hearts.

  ‘Bridge, Major; bridge,’ Lady Amanda adjured him.

  ‘Um,’ he said, finger on chin and eyes staring upwards, ‘Bridge Too Far? Bridge on the River Kwai?’ Good grief, the man now thought they were playing charades, and the only one currently in progress was his short-term recall.

  But there was definitely a mystery here that needed looking into, his hostess thought, and it wasn’t anything to do with the major’s memory.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING…

  After her breakfast, Lady Amanda made a number of telephone calls in the privacy of the music room, all seemingly innocent, but providing her with rather a lot of information. She then summoned Beauchamp Major to the morning room where they had a little tête-à-tête. Hugo would be with his newspaper at the library table, a habit he had formed because he often got the pages in a complete muddle and was unable to sort them out, so she and her butler should be able to converse undercover, as it were.

  ‘I did, actually,’ replied Beauchamp to a very direct question. ‘And yes, I could. It was when he stepped slightly into the light from the portico to round up the stray children.’

  ‘That settles it,’ she declared. ‘Hugo and I are going to have our main Christmas presents slightly early. Do you think you could bring them round to the front of the house when I decide the time is right? We must hasten, otherwise we’ll find nothing. Time is of the essence, and we will need to judge this quite finely.’

  ‘I agree with your ladyship most wholeheartedly. Just say the word, and I shall bring them to the entrance of the house. Would you wish them wrapped in some way?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. We’re going to be using them the same day! We shall need some practice, otherwise there could be a nasty accident. But … hang on a minute, you could attach a large bow to each, if you have the time and patience.’

  ‘It would be my pleasure, your ladyship.’ Beauchamp left the morning room with a big fat smile slapped across his chops. This would really demonstrate to his son how mad things could get in service at this particular house.

  A WEEK LATER…

  After breakfast, Lady Amanda, to Hugo’s great consternation, asked him to follow her outside as he was to receive his main Christmas present a little ahead of time. ‘For I have a plan,’ was all she said, most cryptically.

  ‘Why can’t I just have it inside the house?’ he asked, his lower lip sticking out in a pout, like a petulant child’s.

  ‘Because when it is not being used, it will have to live in the stable block,’ she replied.

  ‘It’s surely not a blasted horse?’ squeaked Hugo as he passed the main staircase, grabbing hold of the newel post to try to keep himself safe from this mad woman who seemed to have bought him an equine gift.

  ‘Absolutely not, Hugo. Don’t be so ridiculous. You’ll know what it is as soon as you see it,’ she soothed him, gently prising his fingers away from the wood. ‘Now, come along and don’t be so skittish.’ Hugo, voicing all sorts of evil thoughts under his breath, shuffled along behind her, dreading what he would find outside.

>   Beauchamps Major and Minor had done their level best to make the items look festive, and had covered each with a pastel bedsheet, then attached a huge bow at the top. Lady A threw open the double doors with a cry of, ‘Ta-da!’ and her arms thrown equally wide, the better to show off the gifts.

  Hugo stared balefully at the pink and blue shrouds and declared, in disgust, ‘Not a new blasted tricycle? I never really liked the old one; came to hate it, in fact.’

  Lady Amanda’s face fell at this negative reaction, but as the two Beauchamps grabbed a sheet each and twitched them off the machines, Hugo was checked in his disappointment, and his face actually lit up with joy. ‘A mobility scooter! My good Lord, it’s a mobility scooter: one each. I presume the blue’s one’s mine. Oh, Manda, I do believe I love you – in the most platonic way, of course.’

  ‘We’ll have great fun together, Hugo, and we’ll start today round by the stables where there’s no gravel.’

  ‘Why the rush? Why today?’ Hugo didn’t see the need for any precipitate action with these new and probably quite lively machines.

  ‘Because we’re going detecting tomorrow.’ Lady Amanda stood four-square in front of him, with arms akimbo and that familiar determined expression, which brooked no argument or opposition, on her face.

  ‘Detecting?’ Hugo looked nonplussed. ‘But we don’t have a case on at the moment, do we, or am I completely losing my mind?’

  ‘Yes we do, and no you’re not.’ Lady A answered both of his questions as efficiently as possible.

  ‘What? What the devil are you talking about? What or whom are we investigating?’ asked Hugo, feeling kinda left out.

  ‘It’s a secret,’ came the cryptic reply.

  ‘What? Even from me? And I’m supposed to be helping you carry out this mystery investigation?’

  ‘Hugo, if I told you, things would work nowhere near so well. It’s absolutely necessary that you have no clue as to what I’m up to. Come along now, and the Beauchamps will show us how to ride these babies round to the stable yard, so that we can get used to the controls for tomorrow.’

  ‘Do we have to?’

  ‘Yes! Now, get a move on, slowcoach.’

  ‘Hugo, mind the hitching post!’

  ‘Hugo, watch the stable door! Not so fast!’

  ‘Hugo, these are not dodgem cars. Absolutely no bumping. I don’t fancy being, literally, bumped off by you, Chummy,’ this last, in quite a high-pitched voice, as Hugo’s scooter ran into the back of hers for the third time, unexpectedly jolting the use of his old nickname out of her.

  ‘Hugo, where are you? How on earth did you get in there? Turn off the ignition and dismount, and I’ll summon Beauchamp to come and get your machine out.’ Hugo had driven into one of the stables, to which the door had been left open many years after the last horse had bolted. ‘And get the straw out of your hair. How you could just drive into a space like that I’ve no idea. They may be kept in there out of the weather, but we are certainly not training them in stable etiquette today.’

  Hugo staggered somewhat shakily out of the wooden building brushing at his trousers, which had got a bit covered in ages-old straw, his face a predictable strawberry red.

  ‘Sorry, Manda. Got a bit mixed up with the rudders, and turned the wrong way, then couldn’t remember how to stop the blasted thing.’

  ‘No worries, as they say Down Under, Hugo.’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘Believe me, they could say a lot worse. Now remember how to steer and stop, and let’s give it another go. Thank you so much, Beauchamp,’ she concluded, as her butler parked the infernal machine back in the middle of the stable yard.

  Hugo had to go upstairs for a lie down with a headache – perchance to nap – after lunch, but Lady Amanda, ever intrepid, had carried on with her driving practice. Hugo could follow in her wake tomorrow, but she’d have to be spot on to see what she wanted to try to locate.

  Hugo reappeared for afternoon tea carrying two painkillers, a glass of water and with bleary eyes. ‘And where might we be going to carry out this secret investigation tomorrow?’ he asked, without preamble.

  ‘In Belchester,’ she clipped.

  ‘Why can’t Beauchamp just take us in in the Rolls, like always?’

  ‘Because we’ll be undercover. We’ll need to wear scarves pulled up over our faces and hats pulled well down over our foreheads – for once I’m glad the wind is so biting. We don’t want to be recognised, and the new scooters will aid the plan admirably. No one outside this household knows we have them, yet.’

  ‘Don’t want to be recognised by whom?’ asked Hugo doggedly.

  ‘Never you mind. Anybody. If everything goes according to plan, all will be revealed shortly.’ And, with this, he had to be content for the time being, whilst Beauchamp entered with the tea tray, a conspiratorial wink in his eye for his mistress, just out of the elderly man’s line of vision.

  ‘Hmph!’ sounded Hugo in a disgruntled manner, definitely feeling excluded from certain things which he simply could not fathom.

  THE NEXT DAY…

  They had breakfasted early and were now wrapping up for their jaunt into Belchester. ‘Scarf, Hugo, well wrapped around your lower face. Don’t want you getting toothache, do we? And hat pulled down a bit so that the sun doesn’t dazzle you. Oh, and I’d suggest you wore your leather gloves instead of your woollen mittens; more grip, you see, on the handlebars.’

  ‘Are there any other sartorial requirements from her ladyship?’ asked Hugo in exasperation. She usually wasn’t that fussy about his appearance in public. ‘Still, at least we won’t have to pedal.’

  ‘I suggest you take a cane, just in case we have to ward off any stray pedestrians, children, or dogs.’ She didn’t usually make a distinction between the latter two categories.

  ‘Do you propose to hit them to get them out of the way, then?’

  ‘No, just a little tootle on my horn, and maybe a prod for the less alert ones.’

  Hugo thought about this for a moment, and the word ‘massacre’ crossed his mind. ‘You’ll get yourself arrested if you show any tendencies towards violence.’

  ‘Don’t be so outrageous. Me? Violent? Why, I’m the most peaceable of denizens in Belchester,’ Lady A replied, while Hugo thought about the bruise on his right ankle which he had obtained when he had said something which particularly irked her at dinner a few evenings ago and had resulted in a sharp kick.

  ‘Just stay calm, Manda. Even if there are difficulties, don’t let your temper get the better of you.’ For this, he received a look that would have shrivelled many others.

  ‘Come along and let us mount our noble steeds. Oh, and Merry Christmas, Hugo. I hope you have many hours of fun on your scooter. What are you going to call her?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘A name for her?’

  Hugo did not answer directly, but muttered that he’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life as naming an inanimate everyday object, but he expected he’d oblige, and sooner rather than later, just to keep the peace.

  ‘I’m going to call mine Red Rum because the original was such a successful racehorse,’ Lady A crowed.

  ‘And it’s also ‘murder’ spelt backwards, which is probably what this will all end in.’ Hugo had taken to muttering under his breath when he was particularly tried by his old friend.

  The drive into Belchester was quite uneventful with the exception of Hugo rear-ending his leader a couple of times, but nothing serious. It really was still quite early, and Lady A kept what cars there were well away from them, through the liberal use of her horn, and waving her stick around on the right-hand side of her scooter. Hugo thought it was a miracle that they reached the city centre without mishap: her stick still in one piece, all her fingers intact, and her hand not torn from her wrist.

  ‘What’s this all about, Manda?’ pleaded Hugo, happy to be pressed into service for the purposes of investigation, but not at all happy about not knowing what it was they were a
ctually investigating.

  ‘Oh, just some last-minute Christmas shopping,’ chirruped his companion.

  ‘But … but … you said …’ Hugo felt terribly cheated.

  Lady Amanda, not to be thwarted, held out her stout walking stick, waved it in the air, and called, ‘Wagons, ho!’ as she turned her ignition key, although proceeding at a very slow pace so that she had a chance to survey the seasonal temptations of the shop windows. As other, more legitimate customers blocked her progress, she brandished her stick, beeped her horn and shouted, ‘Make way!’ Hugo, following as closely as he dared, felt mortified.

  At one point they were side by side, examining the offerings of a particularly upmarket jeweller, and Hugo managed to slide in a question. ‘What exactly are you looking for, Manda. How will I know if I see what you’re after, but can’t identify it because I don’t know exactly what it is that you want?’

  It was a fair question, and Lady A made a fair fist of answering it without giving away too much information. This was to be her party trick.

  They took only one break, at a café where the proprietor was willing to bring two cups of coffee outside, as he wasn’t really geared up for apparently disabled visitors. The other alternative was that they could have left their scooters parked outside, but Lady A was having rather a lot of fun, so she played the not-very-mobile customer with unexpected enthusiasm.

  With a large and quite frightening grin as she handed back her cup, she wondered if she had a future as a ‘secret shopper’, testing out the disabled facilities of various retail and hospitality businesses. Hugo caught a glimpse of her face and shuddered. The old duck was planning something else as well. Heaven help him!