The Secrets of Winter

by Nicola Upson

  ‘Do you remember Henry Lee?’ Hilaria asked, stopping outside the door to the pantry. ‘He’s been here for nearly fifty years now. He was a footman when you and I were growing up.’

  She knocked and went in, and although the name had only rung the faintest of bells, Archie recognised the elderly butler instantly. The room was spacious, with a high ceiling, good natural light and a cosy fire in the grate, and two footmen sat at a long table, polishing silver. Their stools scraped back noisily on the wooden floor as they stood to greet the lady of the house, and Hilaria nodded to them. ‘You’ll be pleased to see Archie Penrose, Lee. He often came over from the Loe Estate when we first arrived here. He and I used to get up to no end of tricks, and I seem to recall you colluding in most of them.’

  ‘Yes, of course, Miss.’ Lee smiled and bowed his head. ‘Very good to see you again, sir – and happy Christmas.’

  ‘And to you, Lee. It’s nice to be back.’

  ‘We’ve just had a message from Trannack, Miss. Mrs Carmichael wasn’t on the scheduled train, and there isn’t another service now until this evening. I’ve made arrangements with the Godolphin Hotel for her to stay there overnight if she arrives late. Depending on the weather, we can try and bring her over tomorrow.’

  Hilaria sighed. ‘Very well, Lee. I don’t see what else we can do. Perhaps she’ll telephone to let us know. In the meantime, is that item still in the flower room?’

  ‘Yes, Miss. Locked, as you instructed. I’ll take you there now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She turned to leave, but paused to admire a work in progress on one of the wide shelves that lined the room’s longest wall – a beautifully scaled model of the castle, made entirely from champagne corks and meticulous in its detail. ‘This is coming along well, Lee. We’ll do our best to give you plenty of raw materials to work with over Christmas.’ She cast a wry glance at Archie. ‘Heaven knows, we’ll need a drink. You could probably have it finished by Boxing Day.’

  The butler led the way further into the staff quarters, past the kitchens and servants’ hall and up a short flight of steps to a room on the castle’s cold outer wall. As he unlocked the door and stood aside to let them pass, Archie was taken aback by the overpowering scent of exotic flowers. Three dramatic centrepieces took pride of place on the table – arrangements of holly, red carnations and white lilies in various combinations – and more holly stood soaking in buckets on the flagstone floor. A bench ran the length of the room, littered with scissors, string and vases, and the next candidates for display – roses and chrysanthemums in shades of gold and burnt orange – were waiting in the sink. Two crates with a Scilly Isles stamp stood by the door, and the simple, tightly budded daffodils – their yellow-green heads promising the first sign of spring – came as something of a relief.

  ‘Shall I get it down for you, Miss?’ the butler asked.

  ‘Yes please, Lee.’ He moved the floral displays carefully to one end of the table, then took down a long gift box from the top shelf. ‘This arrived yesterday for Miss Dietrich,’ Hilaria explained, seeing the look of confusion on Archie’s face. ‘I’ll let you open it.’ He took the lid off and looked down at the perfect red roses. ‘There are thirteen,’ she said, as he began to count them. ‘Look at the card.’

  He picked it up and read the message. ‘Mein Engel, mit wärmsten Wünschen für Weihnachten – und mit Bewunderung – Adolf Hitler.’

  ‘I was hoping you might reassure me that this couldn’t possibly be genuine,’ Hilaria said.

  ‘I’m afraid it probably is.’ He told her about the visitors to Marlene’s hotel suite. ‘Ironically, she came here to get away.’

  ‘We’ll have to tell her, won’t we?’ Hilaria said reluctantly. ‘We should at least give her the option to leave if she feels she’s being threatened – and sooner rather than later. There are blizzards coming in tonight, and a boat won’t get to the mainland once they start.’

  ‘I’ll talk to her, but I doubt she’ll want to go anywhere. She strikes me as someone who likes to face up to things rather than run from them.’ Archie read the card again. ‘Now I understand why you were so sensitive when Fielding made that comment about Marlene being in safe hands.’

  ‘Yes, it was unfortunate under the circumstances, but I’m hoping it was just a turn of phrase on his part. The last thing we want is this in the newspaper – although he seemed just as impressed by your celebrity as he was by hers.’

  Archie smiled. ‘You say these arrived yesterday?’

  ‘That’s right. About four o’clock, wasn’t it, Lee?’

  ‘Yes, Miss.’

  ‘Before it was announced in the paper that she’d be here. Did the guests know in advance?’

  ‘Only you and Fielding, but he was sworn to secrecy by his editor.’

  ‘I didn’t think Barbara Penhaligon looked in the least bit surprised to bump into Marlene.’

  ‘No, but I assumed she’d seen it in the paper this morning.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I still find it strange that a German officer bothered to bring her here when she’s got a perfectly good chauffeur. It was almost as if he was checking that Marlene had arrived.’

  ‘You think Barbara is involved in this?’

  Archie shrugged. ‘There must be several people at Claridge’s who know where Marlene is. She said the Nazis had been camped out there for days, so they could easily have twisted someone’s arm for a forwarding address. And presumably you told the staff in advance that Marlene was one of the guests?’

  He felt rather than heard the butler’s indignation, and Hilaria seemed to share Lee’s resentment. ‘Oh no, Archie, I won’t have that. There’s no way that any of my staff would be involved in something like this. It’s simply not possible.’

  ‘Of course not. I’m sorry.’ He was about to suggest that they went upstairs to break the news to Marlene when he heard voices outside in the passage, one of the housemaids talking loudly to her colleague.

  ‘She only wants the thorns cut off the bloody roses! And she’s told me what to do with the fruit bowl – all except the apples.’ The door burst open and the girl came in, carrying a beautiful vase of red roses which had presumably been exiled from Marlene’s room. Luckily, she was too aghast when she saw Hilaria to take any notice of the box on the table, and Lee quickly ushered her out of the room, following her down the corridor to deliver what Archie could only assume would be the scolding of a lifetime. He picked up one of Hitler’s roses and ran his finger along the smooth, perfect stem. ‘Perhaps now isn’t quite the right moment to deliver these,’ he said, ‘but at least the Führer knows how she likes them.’

  5

  Josephine thought that finding Marta would be a simple matter of retracing her footsteps, but the castle’s myriad corridors and staircases defied her recollection of the route they had taken when the housemaid showed them to their rooms. She lost her bearings at each and every turn, and was just beginning to understand why so many country house murder mysteries opened with a helpful map when she recognised the magnificent Samurai suit of armour that stood rather threateningly at the head of a passageway; Marta’s room was just beyond it.

  ‘Who is it?’ Marta called when she knocked at the door. ‘It’s only me. Can I come in?’

  ‘No, you can’t. Give me a minute. I won’t be long.’ Intrigued, Josephine heard the rustling of paper from inside the room, followed by a thud or two, as if things were being hurriedly packed away, then Marta appeared in the doorway. ‘All right, it’s safe now. I was just wrapping your final Christmas present.’

  ‘So I can see. You’ve got glitter all over your face.’

  ‘Have I?’ She brushed her cheek and stood aside to let Josephine in. ‘Isn’t this wonderful? Come and look at the view.’

  The room was further round to the south than Josephine’s, and faced the open sea. She followed Marta over to the window, and the sheer drop to the rocks and gardens below – just visible in the fading light – took her breath away. The garden
s were formal in style, cleverly designed to appeal to a crow’s-eye view and arranged on several levels. The wildness of the sea beyond – pounding at the rocks on the fringes of the island – was exhilarating. ‘I’m not sure I’d want to be one of the gardeners,’ Josephine said, looking doubtfully at the more inaccessible lawns and borders. ‘It must be perilous, climbing round there whenever a hedge needs trimming. And look at the battering those bushes are getting from the wind. It’s a wonder anything survives at all with so much salt in the air.’

  ‘Yes, but think of the sun it must get in summer. I bet they grow some amazing things. Perhaps we’ll get a chance to explore if the weather improves.’ She smiled and gave Josephine a kiss. ‘How’s your room?’

  ‘Magnificent. Big enough to sleep six, with lofty ceilings and the most beautiful tiling round the window. Everything you’d hope for from a castle, from the four-poster bed to the draughts.’ She looked round, and added wryly: ‘It’s less chaotic than this one, though. I see you’ve made yourself well and truly at home.’

  Marta wasn’t by nature the tidiest of people and she always took over a room, no matter how brief her stay in it. Josephine recognised the same welcoming touches that had greeted her in her own room – a beautiful arrangement of holly, spruce and ivy, a Christmas card from Hilaria with a box of Prestat chocolates, a luxurious fruit bowl and a decanter of sherry – but Marta had personalised the welcome with some hospitality of her own. There was brandy and red wine, and a collection of elegantly wrapped presents had been arranged by the winter greenery, which now functioned as a miniature Christmas tree. Most touchingly of all, Marta had smuggled in a collection of decorations that Josephine put up each year at the house she owned in Suffolk. The cottage had become something of a haven for them both in recent months, as the wider world grew darker and more dangerous, and they retreated there whenever they could. ‘I can’t believe you thought of this,’ she said. ‘You’ve brought Christmas with you.’

  ‘I dug them out of the cupboard when you weren’t looking. They’re special to us, so I thought they should travel.’

  Josephine picked up the snow globe, which was one of the first things that she and Marta had bought together, and something in its fragility touched her. Continually in the back of her mind now was the knowledge that another war would threaten her independence and all the aspects of her life that were most precious. There were bound to be travel restrictions, which would confine her to Scotland and separate her from Marta for long periods at a time, and she knew in her heart that if hostilities broke out, Marta wasn’t the kind of woman who would sit on the sidelines and wait for them to end; she would do something brave and glorious, or leave England altogether and find her freedom elsewhere. As selfish as it seemed, the loneliness of another war frightened Josephine far more than any loss of life. ‘Are you all right?’ Marta asked gently. ‘You don’t usually get this emotional about Christmas decorations. That’s my territory. You’ll be crying at films next.’

  Josephine laughed and wiped her eyes. ‘I’m fine – more than fine, actually. It’s just all this – you getting excited about Christmas, and being able to spend it together again. It matters, this year more than ever, especially now you have to go away.’

  ‘I’m not going for long, but I know what you mean. All the more reason to make the most of this.’ Marta pulled a small sofa closer to the fire and put another log on. ‘I was thinking about it on the train coming down. The last couple of years are the first time in my life that I’ve ever spent Christmas with the person I love. Why wouldn’t I be excited?’

  ‘I am, too.’ She took Marta’s hand and snuggled up to her, enjoying the peace and wondering if anyone would miss them if they stayed in front of the fire for the whole weekend. ‘I’m glad we’re here. Everything feels so gloomy and depressing at the moment. It’s nice to be cut off from it all for a few days. I don’t want to see another newspaper or hear another political speech until at least halfway through January.’

  ‘You and the rest of the country. We could all do with a bit of sparkle.’

  ‘Speaking of which – I’ve got a view of the harbour from my room. I think I saw Archie’s car arrive.’

  ‘Did you …’

  ‘No, not a glimpse. I can just about see the end of the causeway if I crane my neck, but I lost sight of him before he parked. At least we know they’re here, though. The star has arrived.’

  ‘I think the real star’s just outside the window. Look.’

  Josephine turned and saw the snow – not the brief, halfhearted flurry that had greeted them, but a silent storm of white, steady and relentless, peppering the glass and filling the indigo sky beyond with its mournful, radiant beauty. Marta put out the lamps and they lay quietly in each other’s arms, watching it fall and listening to the crackle of the fire until a grandfather clock on the landing outside struck five.

  ‘I suppose we’d better get ready for drinks,’ Marta said reluctantly.

  ‘Yes, and you’ll need to tidy up before the housemaid comes in to lay your clothes out. It never occurred to me that we’d be waited on to that extent.’

  ‘Oh, I told her not to bother. What a bloody nightmare that would be. Surely you did, too?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. It felt rude when it’s obviously what they do here. I wish I had now.’

  ‘Well, just make sure you stand her down for the night shift. You’ve already got someone to help you undress.’ Marta smiled. ‘I’ll come and collect you in half an hour. That’ll give us time to call in on Archie as we go down.’

  ‘And give him the third degree on Marlene, you mean.’

  ‘Something like that, yes, so make sure you’re ready.’

  Josephine found her way back to her room, hoping she’d have time to wash and change before the maid came in to do whatever maids did. She cursed herself again for being too timid to refuse help, as Marta had done; it was ridiculous, but the most daunting aspect of the house party so far was how to behave with the servants. The strain of doing things correctly with a butler or housekeeper at her shoulder completely eclipsed any nerves she might have had at meeting Marlene; she was used to actresses, but Mrs Pendean and her effortless courtesy already put the fear of God into her.

  She took the towels that had been laid out for her on the bed, and washed quickly in the nearest bathroom. Shivering, she hurried back to dress in front of the fire, but as she turned the corner, she saw the housekeeper coming out of the room two doors down from her own. To her relief, Mrs Pendean turned in the opposite direction and headed for the staircase, but an elderly man wearing a dog collar – presumably the Reverend Hartley – came out of his room after her and called her back. They began what looked like an earnest conversation on the landing, and Josephine made a beeline for her door, hoping to slip into her room unnoticed, but the housekeeper was too sharp for her and she knew it was only a matter of time before she received a visit. Sure enough, a few minutes later there was a polite knock at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ Josephine called, struggling with the zip which had caught halfway up in her haste to get the dress on before she was disturbed. She smiled at the housekeeper. ‘Good evening, Mrs Pendean.’

  ‘Good evening, madam. Now that you’re back, is there anything I can help you with?’

  Perhaps Josephine was imagining the implied criticism that she had been absent without leave from her room, disrupting the smooth routines of the house, but she resisted the temptation to explain herself. ‘This dress isn’t being very co-operative, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Let me see.’

  The defiant zip was dealt with in a second, and Josephine thanked her. She sat down at the dressing table to redo her make-up, hoping that Mrs Pendean would take charge of any other rituals that were expected of her, and watched in the mirror as the housekeeper picked up the day clothes that she had hurriedly discarded on the chair as she changed. Mrs Pendean shook the dress out and put it on a hanger, where it instantly fell straight and smooth, t
he cuffs flat against the skirt, with no errant sleeves sticking out and certainly no sign of the day’s long journey; the garment was tidied away in the wardrobe, and Josephine knew that it would emerge creaseless and as good as new whenever it was next required. ‘Thank you,’ she said again, but the comment met with no response, and she wondered if gratitude was somehow inappropriate. She found the silence awkward as Mrs Pendean walked over to turn down the bed, and decided just to be herself; there was little point in pretending she was used to this, particularly when she probably had far more in common with some of the servants than she did with the family who owned the house. ‘I imagine the island will look spectacular in the morning,’ she said, as she powdered her face. ‘Do you often get snow like this at Christmas?’

  ‘It’s unusual, madam. I’ve only known it once or twice in my lifetime, and not since my daughter was a little girl.’

  ‘We’re very lucky then.’

  There was no answer, and Josephine assumed that the etiquette was to say only what needed to be said, but when she looked at the woman’s reflection in the mirror, she was astonished to find her on the verge of tears. Her instinct was to ask what was wrong, but she put her mascara on in silence and combed her hair, knowing that any further conversation would be unwelcome. Mrs Pendean went quietly about her business, taking advantage of the routine to steady her emotions, and when she spoke again, her voice was perfectly controlled. ‘What will you be wearing tomorrow, madam?’

  ‘The blue suit, I think,’ Josephine said.

  ‘Very well.’ The suit and two pairs of shoes were collected from the wardrobe, and Josephine realised that they were going to be pressed and polished. Briefly, she wished she’d brought some mending that badly needed doing; her own daily wasn’t especially handy with a needle. ‘And what time would you like to be called in the morning?’