The Adventures of Clarissa Hardy

by Chloe Gillis

  Clarissa had been at the Tribune for four weeks. Her pieces on different aspects of the British social climate had indeed proved popular. Chauncey was well pleased with her and said so. The summer was waning. One afternoon, as Clarissa sat daydreaming at her desk in the apartment, the telephone rang.

  “Yes, hello, Clarissa here,” said Clarissa into the mouthpiece.

  “I say, Clarissa, dear!” It was Chauncey. The telephone gave his voice a metallic sound. “I say,” he repeated, “Bruce and I are headed to the countryside. My father has organized a pre-season hunt, just to get the horses in working condition. Would you care to accompany us? I didn’t assign any big stories to you for the Sunday edition, did I?” He chuckled.

  Clarissa had yet to write a feature article for the Sunday edition. She knew Chauncey knew she longed to do so, but this invitation was at least a diversion. She would love to meet Chauncey’s family and see the incredible estate the boys talked so much about.

  “Oh, Chaunce!” she cried. “Why, I would love to! Just love to! When are you leaving?”

  “In about an hour, darling. Bruce and I will pick you up in the automobile. Throw some things a bag and we’ll be there shortly!”

  He rang off and Clarissa pushed frantically at the call button near her desk until Mrs. Dutton appeared at the door.

  “What is it, miss?” she asked.

  Clarissa explained her predicament and the two women hurried into Clarissa’s bedroom together. Clarissa began to rifle through her closet and dresser drawers, throwing articles of clothing and undergarments onto the bed. Mrs. Dutton, the very picture of reason, remained calm as she picked up the things, one by one, folded them expertly, and tucked them tidily into Clarissa’s small brown plaid suitcase.

  “This will be so exciting, Mrs. Dutton! I hear the estate is breathtaking! Have you ever been there?”

  “No, no, I haven’t, dear. Mr. Dutton and I have gone several times to Sir Anderson and Lady Anne’s country home. It’s quite magnificent, but Chelmsford Manor is said to be exceptional!”

  “Well, I am very excited!”

  The next thing Clarissa knew, she was flying along the open road in the backseat of Chauncey’s roadster. They traveled most of the morning. At last, Bruce turned round in his seat, holding his hat on in the open car.

  “Now get ready to see Chelmsford Manor as we round this corner! It’s too splendid for words!”

  Hardly had the words left his lips, than Clarissa, her eyes glued to the vista ahead of them, saw the great house rise above the horizon. It was spectacular. Surely, it was the most wonderful dwelling Clarissa had ever seen. As they approached, Chauncey gave her a quick history of the place, ending with, “And then, when my poor old dad died back ten years ago, I found myself heir to all this! Thank goodness Mummy is still hail and hardy. She really runs the place! Keeps trying to get me to return to live here round the clock, but we’d miss the city, you see, so we come out frequently. My younger sister, Eunice, and her husband help immensely with directing the household and farming operations, and now that Eunie is…well, expecting, Mummy has quieted down some!”

  Clarissa was delighted. The moment Chauncey brought the auto to a stop in front of the great front entrance, an attractively dressed older woman descended the broad stone steps followed closely by a short, stocky man on whose arm clung a jolly-looking fat little blond woman.

  Clarissa found Lady Winifred Chelmsford, “Mummy” to Chauncey, and the Nigel Restons, sister “Eunie” and her husband, to be most charming. They were rather colorless in appearance, like Chauncey, but like him, they were good tempered and always ready for a cocktail. Clarissa’s heart leaped with the anticipation of a wonderful weekend in the countryside.

  That is, until Theodore, the aged butler, interrupted a perfectly wonderful dinner.

  They were all seated in the opulent dining room, gossiping over their mushroom bisque when Theodore entered the dining room. He went straight to Chauncey’s side, bending down and whispering something in the young man’s ear.

  Chauncey folded his napkin, saying, “Please, my friends, an urgent telephone call from London. I will return immediately. Please, go on with your dinner. It is too delicious to interrupt.” He bowed graciously and exited on the heels of the butler.

  He was absent for about ten minutes and when he returned, he put his hands on Clarissa’s shoulders, announcing as he did so, “I am sorry to steal our darling Clarissa from the table, but the aforementioned telephone call involves her. We shall return as quickly as we can.”

  Clarissa followed Chauncey, her heart in her throat. When they were out of the room, she managed to gasp, “Oh, Chauncey! What is it? Is it Mommy or Daddy?” Tears were beginning to form at the corners of her eyes.

  Chauncey put his arm around her and guided her into the small library. “Fear not, my dear. It is simply a rather bothersome call from our all-powerful editor-in-chief! He insists you return at once to the city.”

  Clarissa was aghast. “Whatever for?”

  “He is lacking in material for the Social Pages, he says. He wants you to polish up the piece you did on Claridge’s, the ‘Fantastic Flapper’ piece. He’s sent the photographer over there tonight to get some good shots. He wants you to come in tomorrow so it can hit the press for the Sunday edition.”

  Clarissa was astounded. “I don’t believe it! I simply won’t believe it! What a nasty, vindictive man! Oh, Chauncey, can’t you do something? Can’t you say I can’t come?”

  “My darling, I tried. Truly, I did! You know, I’ve bankrolled that paper personally, just because I love newspapers and I rather thought I liked MacLaren. Straight shooter, he is. I tried to threaten him with that salient point, but the truth is, MacLaren is a straight shooter. He said he was editor-in-chief and he was doing his job. He wore me down. You’ve got to go back if you want to stay employed by this circus! It won’t be so bad. We love having you there, and in London. And Chelmsford Manor will be here for at least another four hundred years, so you’ve plenty of time to return.”

  And so it was, after tearful apologies and good-byes and promises to return as soon as possible, Clarissa found herself on the evening train back to London. When she reached the station in the city, she hailed a cab to her flat. The cab driver carried her luggage to the door. Clarissa paid him and then buzzed the doorbell. She had not had time to call to tell the Duttons she was returning unexpectedly tonight.

  The door opened. Mr. Dutton stood there. He looked rather pale.

  “Dutton, are you feeling well?” asked Clarissa.

  Dutton cleared his throat. “What are you doing here, Miss Hardy? I thought you accompanied Bruce and Mr. Chelmsford to the countryside.”

  Clarissa hung her head. “I did. Mr. MacLaren actually called me at Chelmsford Manor and summoned me, under no uncertain terms, to return to the city and rework an article for publication in the Sunday edition.” She sighed.

  Dutton still stood firmly in the doorway. Why wouldn’t he move aside and let her through? He seemed preoccupied, somehow.

  “Will you grab my bags, please, Dutton?” she asked. Suddenly, Clarissa heard the tinkling of crystal and muffled conversation.

  “Dutton, who is here?”

  Dutton looked extremely uncomfortable. “Well, you see, Miss Hardy,” he began.

  “Dutton! I shall see for myself! Please stand aside!”

  Dutton made a desperate move and took her arm gently in his gloved hands. “Please, miss, come with me.”

  “Dutton! What are you doing? Dutton! My bags!”

  Dutton proceeded to lead Clarissa down the stairs to the kitchen. He pushed her through the swinging kitchen door and latched it behind him.

  He called, “Fannie!” The inner door opened and Mrs. Dutton entered the room. Clarissa saw with confusion that she was dressed in a beaded and fringed gray silk frock, as if she was planning on attending the opera or a play in the West End.

  Clarissa looked from Dutton to Mrs. Dutton and bac
k again. They exchanged furtive looks. Finally, she said, “Now tell me what is going on here and tell me now! Who is in my home?”

  Mrs. Dutton approached her. “Sit down, my dear. We will explain.” She sat at the table and gestured to Clarissa to sit also. Clarissa sat uncomfortably on the edge of one of the wooden chairs. Dutton remained standing.

  “You see,” started Mrs. Dutton, “periodically, we give very exclusive and very fancy dinner parties here for Mr. Tallman’s father, Sir Anderson.”

  “Sir Anderson is in the dining room?” questioned Clarissa.

  “Well, actually, he is in the sitting room at the moment, having cocktails with his friends. He always brings two or three friends. Tonight, he brought two foreign statesmen. Quite important guests, my dear.”

  Clarissa, still somewhat confused, said, “Bruce didn’t mention anything to me about this.”

  “Bruce, the dear boy, has no idea about these dinners. Oh, he is aware, of course, that his father sometimes uses the flat when he is absent, or when Sir Anderson has extended business in the city, but beyond that, he is in the dark,” went on Mrs. Dutton. “Let me explain. Lady Tallman has no idea of these dinners, either. These are strictly limited to Sir Anderson’s guests only, and they are secret. The security of the government could suffer if the, ah, delicate nature of these dinners were to be made public.” She paused. Clarissa’s brow knit together as she tried to make sense of the information Mrs. Dutton had given her. Mrs. Dutton continued. “Our assignment is thus: Sir Anderson lets us know the date and time he would like to dine and the guests he is bringing. It is up to Dutton and myself to serve a sophisticated meal and provide gentlemen’s entertainment.”

  The fog began to clear a bit for Clarissa. “What do you mean by gentlemen’s entertainment?”

  “I mean we provide an evening of superior food, drink, and music. We also provide temporary companionship in the form of attractive young ladies. It is but a brief evening of relaxation for the men who must juggle our national security on a constant basis.”

  Clarissa’s hands flew to her cheeks. “Oh, my!” she gasped. “You mean to tell me you procure young ladies who will bestow…um…favors? Sir Anderson requests this?”

  Mrs. Dutton nodded. “He does, indeed. It was Sir Anderson who procured this position for Dutton and myself. Sir Anderson has come to rely upon us to arrange these dinners. His peers appreciate it! Why, nearly everybody in the House of Lords and the Cabinet covets an invitation to one of Sir Anderson’s dinners. Mind you, we have had royalty here, also. Most of the time, these dinners are Sir Anderson’s way of rewarding specific individuals, but occasionally they have a more, well, political side. Such as tonight. Tonight, Sir Anderson entertains the French ambassador and a visiting Prussian statesman. He has come to trust Dutton and me unconditionally. We would never betray that trust, and I must ask that you not betray it, either. For the sake of Sir Anderson. For the sake of Lady Anne. For the sake of your dear friend Bruce. For the sake of the Realm.”

  Clarissa sat as one turned to stone, trying to sort through this astounding enlightenment. Suddenly, the buzzer at the service entrance in the alley went off.

  Dutton sprang to attention. “That would be the girls,” he said, going off down the hall. A moment later, he returned, followed by two attractive young women. “We seem to be missing one,” he said to Mrs. Dutton.

  “Oh, dear!” She rose from her chair. “What is the meaning of this, Lucy? You promised Abigail and Hilda. Where on earth is Hilda?”

  The girl called Lucy, a pretty little thing with just the hint of freckles on her turned up nose, wiggled uncomfortably. “Well, you see, Mrs. Dutton, she wasn’t feeling up to it. She’s at her time of the month, you see, and just can’t make it.”

  “Well, couldn’t you procure a decent substitute? I need three this evening! Oh, this is devastating!” Mrs. Dutton wrung her hands.

  “Why, who’s that?” asked the blond curly haired girl, pointing to Clarissa. “What’s she doing here? How about her? She’s quite adorable!”

  “Oh, my, no!” sighed Mrs. Dutton. “Clarissa wasn’t even supposed to be here. She’s never done anything like this before.”

  Clarissa was beginning to pay attention. It was all quite exciting, even titillating. Spying and seducing and all. “Anything like what?” she asked.

  Mrs. Dutton stared at her and then looked at her husband. Dutton shook his head. “Sir Anderson would recognize her,” he said.

  Clarissa stood up. “Wait,” she said. “Why not! I can do it! Do you have a masquerade? A black mask, to hide my features?” It had been so long since Clarissa had had any real excitement.

  Mrs. Dutton began to smile. “Indeed I do! I believe I do! Not long ago, Mr. Tallman had a fancy dress party here! I should be able to find the masks in the spare closet!” Mrs. Dutton paused and looked carefully, searchingly, at Clarissa. “Now, Clarissa, you know what this means? You have some experience? You are not…not…naïve, are you? You understand…the ways of men?”

  Clarissa smiled knowingly. “I am perfectly adept in the ways of men.”

  Dutton spoke up. “You do know they will expect a certain intimacy with you. You must understand you are to comply to their wishes or it will embarrass Sir Anderson permanently and tarnish his reputation as a host. We have no idea what type of dinner this is. It may well involve our national security.”

  “I understand,” said Clarissa. Secretly, she was very eager to embark on this new adventure. She was especially curious to meet Sir Anderson incognito. It would give a whole new perspective to the man.

  “We will make no mention of how you have helped us to any person, my dear,” Mrs. Dutton assured her. “And we will compensate you generously, as we are.”

  “There is no need to compensate me, Mrs. Dutton. You and Mr. Dutton are so kind and solicitous of me. It’s the least I can do!”

  “Well, it is time to join the gentlemen. Ladies, you shall all wear a black velvet mask tonight. It will add to the mystery and excitement of the evening. Into the back, change to fancy dress, back here in five minutes!”

  In five minutes, the three girls were back in the kitchen, in fancy dress, each carrying a black velvet, sequined mask. Clarissa was dressed in a number that had white lace and beading, a drop waist, and a peach ribbon round the hips. Lucy had advised her in the choice of foundation garments, so she wore only a garters to hold up her white silk stockings. She wore peach colored slippers on her feet and a rhinestone headband.

  Dutton escorted them into the sitting room. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I present to you your companionship for the evening, the Misses Lucy, Abigail, and…ah…Gabrielle.”

  The gentlemen stood and bowed. Dutton melted out of the room.

  Clarissa took in her surroundings. The room was dimly lit, and a fire blazed in the fireplace to dispel the chill of the early September evening. One by one, the gentlemen approached to greet them. Of course, she recognized the handsome visage of the older Tallman immediately. The French diplomat was a small, very neat little man with a thin, dark goatee. The Prussian statesman looked the part. He was a big bear of a man, his well-fed stomach preceding his erect and pristinely attired form. Clarissa guessed him to be about fifty years old. He had a carefully dressed mop of thick gray hair and a large, full gray mustache. He bowed deeply to Clarissa and taking her hand in his huge beefy one, he lifted it to his lips. She felt the prickling brush of the mustache as he kissed it.

  Sir Anderson presented each of the girls with the drink of their choice. The six of them made small talk in the sitting room until it was discreetly decided which girl would accompany which gentleman. The Prussian statesman had clearly chosen Clarissa, which she felt was fortuitous, because he had not met her previously. She drank her cocktail rather rapidly. Sir Anderson brought her another.

  She was beginning to feel quite bouncy when Sir Anderson suddenly came up behind her and whispered discretely in her ear. “May I speak to you privately? The Prussian
has excused himself temporarily. Over here, by the balcony.”

  Making sure her mask was tight to her face, Clarissa followed Sir Anderson to the balcony. Had he recognized her? It was a beautiful evening and the western breeze billowed the sheer white drapes around them.

  “You appear to be quite a bright young thing,” he said quietly, looking her up and down.

  Clarissa said, humbly, “Why, thank you, sir.”

  “The Duttons always hire the most sophisticated companions. I have it from Mrs. Dutton that you can be counted upon to take seriously whatever responsibilities might be tossed your way.”

  “That is true, sir.”

  “You have a rather odd accent. Are you American?”

  “Yes, I am,” replied Clarissa. “I’ve picked up rather of a British way of speaking, so my accent must sometimes seem confused!”

  Sir Anderson chuckled. “I shall get right to the point. Things are not as peaceful as they seem. The French ambassador and myself suspect this bloody Prussian to be up to no good. Stealing state secrets, things like that. We’re on to him, but we need the name of his accomplice, you see.” He did not wait for her to respond, but continued. “Now, here’s where you come in, my dear. The man wears a key round his neck. It’s small. We believe we know the location of the vault the key opens. What we need to do is make a copy of this key. It shall be up to you, my dear, to obtain an imprint of the key, so that we may continue our mission. Do you think you are up to the task?”

  Clarissa was rather appalled by the responsibility suddenly thrust upon her. “How on earth shall I accomplish it?” she asked. “Should I steal the key and bring it to you?”

  Sir Anderson shook his head. “Any overt attempt such as that would be immediately detected, I’m afraid. The man is a boor, but he’s not stupid.”