by Rose Donovan
Pausing a moment as if she had let the cat out of the bag, the Countess pounced on her coffee and swiftly gulped it as if it were a reviving brandy. Hinting that she had provided quite enough information for the moment, she changed the subject to couture. “I’m afraid I’m not particularly fashionable, Miss Dove. Do tell me what you think of Paris this year.”
Across the way, Fina drained one cup of coffee and then another. The champagne had been potent and she knew she had a long night ahead. Gayatri sat impassive, her back ramrod-straight, making no attempt at conversation. She had not spoken a word since they had entered the library, apart from requesting a cup of Assam tea from Grimston. Even the fish, which had Julia in raptures, had failed to thaw her reserve.
Thinking about the origin of the phrase ‘tension so thick you could cut it with a knife’, Fina grasped for a distracting topic.
“Miss Badarur, did Ruby’s stain remover succeed in clearing up that splotch on your lovely gown?”
“Oh yes, Miss Aubrey-Havelock. And please do call me Gayatri. Well, it worked a treat, as our cook would say. I must see about getting some for myself. Do you think Miss Dove would lend me the recipe?”
“I’m afraid it is unlikely,” said Fina apologetically. “And please do call me Fina. It is a special concentrate made from… what is it? Oxalic acid – highly toxic, so she doesn’t even let me use it. She has made all sorts of concoctions in the lab that are not only stain removers, but richly hued dyes.”
“Really? I must make an appointment to see her,” she said with her eyebrows raised. “Or, I should say that Sajida should make an appointment, since she is the shopper in our family,” she added, gesturing toward her sister. Sajida lounged, rather than sat, idly admiring her impeccably manicured, scarlet nails.
Responding with a knowing smile, Fina asked, “So you must be here because of your Oxford connection?”
“Oh–I–hmm. Was it Granville or Edgar who asked us down?” she said, more to herself. She fiddled with the curl of hair at the back of her neck. She looked over at Sajida for a rescue, but Sajida continued her stupendous act of nonchalance, casting a bored stare at one of the fishbowls.
Gayatri gave a quick smile, as if to ease the embarrassment. “Oh, yes, that’s it. Actually, though I know Granville and Edgar as acquaintances, Professor Lighton made the formal invitation on behalf of Edgar, once he heard that my sister would be visiting from India. It’s such a wonderful chance for us to learn the old English customs, you see.” She waved a delicate hand around the library, taking in the holly that draped the shelves. “I also know Ian, as well as one does in London and Oxford…” Gayatri trailed off nervously. Fina noticed that her eyes dilated when she mentioned Ian’s name, so she assumed her temporary loss of words was due to attraction – rather than nefarious activities.
“And you – what’s your connection? You’re also at Oxford?” enquired Gayatri, recovering by sitting more upright in the overstuffed sofa.
“Yes, and I’ve heard of Granville and Edgar, as one does,” Fina said, unconsciously mimicking Gayatri’s earlier words. “Granville has quite the reputation, doesn’t he?” she said in a conspiratorial hush, hoping this would prompt a bit of gossip.
“Oh yeesss,” Gayatri said with a knowing smile. “People love him. I cannot think why. I’ve also heard he loses a lot at the roulette table. I don’t know how he gets through his studies at all. I guess that’s what being a son of empire does for you,” she said, nearly spitting out the words.
There was a soft cough. Fina turned to see that Grimston had sidled up to the sofa. His eyelids flickered impassively at Lady Snittlegarth.
“Yes,” said the Countess, looking up from her coffee. “What is it, Grimston?”
“The gentlemen have retired to the saloon, milady, and await your company. They are moving to that room because it has a… piano,” said Grimston, grimacing at the mention of the instrument as if it were a distasteful guest.
“Yes, yes, Grimston. A piano doesn’t bite.”
“No, milady.”
“Ladies!” announced the Countess, sleeves fluttering again as she struggled from the sofa, grateful for Grimston’s proffered hand of assistance.
“If you’d be so kind as to follow me to the saloon. Roger wanted to have the piano in here, you know, but I told him it simply wouldn’t do. My poor fish do not abide by vibrations. I’m afraid it gives them a dreadful headache,” she clucked.
9
With heads bent together like schoolgirls, Ruby and Fina quickly traded notes in the dimly lit hallway.
“Did you hear what she said about Dulcet?” said Fina.
“I did!” said Ruby. “There’s something odd going on there, no doubt. And I’d bet my life Granville is involved somehow.”
“Yes… you know, I didn’t like the look of him one bit, now I see him up close. And as for his friend!”
Ruby pitched her voice even lower. “Charlotte doesn’t seem too fond of Leslie Dashwood, either. I remarked to her earlier that he looked somewhat ill – perhaps his spleen – and she told me she suspects he may be troubled in his mind. We’d be best advised to steer clear of him this weekend, she said.”
“That’s one piece of advice I’m delighted to take,” said Fina fervently as they neared the saloon. “And let me tell you about Gayatri…”
Just then, a dark-coated figure nearly collided with them.
“So sorry – oh, it’s you, Charles! Why are you in a serving uniform? Were you at dinner and we didn’t see you?” asked Ruby.
“I… They… They’re short-staffed, you see, as many of the servants couldn’t make it in this weather. I served dinner and then attended the gentlemen in the study.”
“I’m ashamed that I looked right past you at dinner,” said Fina, feeling the warmth creeping up her neck for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Why was she nervous? “Will you be able to listen to the music in the saloon?”
Ruby interjected, “Doesn’t Ian count songwriting among his many talents? I heard Julia is also quite a nightingale.”
Glancing over his shoulder, presumably to ensure the omnipresent Grimston wasn’t lurking in the shadows, Charles responded in a whisper. “I should be able to stand out in the hall to listen, if not to watch. Grimston has to have his cigarettes or he gets moody,” he said, waving Ruby and Fina into the saloon.
As their eyes adjusted to the bright combination of electric and candlelight of the room, Fina noticed both Granville and Leslie were absent. The saloon was a long room with French windows at one end and a gleaming grand piano at the other. The guests were arranged – much like a stage play or a painting, thought Fina – around the mantel, sofas and small bridge table in the corner. Julia looked pensive. She lounged in the corner, smoking a cigarette; it was hardly the stance of a joyful singer. Fina noticed her fierce glare at Ian and Gayatri who were cosily ensconced in the corner. Despite their hushed conversation, Gayatri’s tinkling laugh floated across the room, as if it were a butterfly in search of an exit. In response, Julia stubbed out her cigarette in a bronze ashtray with striking ferocity. She marched over to Ian and Gayatri.
“Here comes trouble,” hissed Ruby. They made a beeline for the nearest sofa with a view of the brewing tempest.
Hands on hips, Julia said, “Ian, may I speak to you for a moment? Alone.” She glared at Gayatri.
With a sensitivity heretofore hidden beneath the rather superficial surface, Sajida jumped up and zipped over to her sister’s rescue. “Gay,” she said – pronouncing her sister’s pet name as guy – “I simply must ask you about Mother’s letter from today.” She opened her scarlet clutch and proffered the crumpled letter to her sister, while guiding her gently away from the smouldering Julia.
Ian, looking somewhat sheepish, made his escape to the piano.
Julia followed. She removed her blazer with the flourish of a matador – an effect heightened, Fina thought, by the pool of black satin lining that flashed as she tossed it on the
nearest armchair. With deliberate insouciance, she undulated toward the piano, no small feat given her beanpole figure. Smoothing her hair and her blouse, she pursed her lips and leaned over the piano to whisper to Ian. Almost imperceptibly, Ian shrank like a frightened turtle from Julia. Whatever the conversation was, it was rather curt.
Wondering if these developing love triangles would affect their mission this weekend, Fina studied her friend in the next chair. Ruby sat, hands gently folded in her lap, gazing at the piano. Or, to be more precise, at Ian. Selkies and kelpies, thought Fina. While she was happy for Ruby – perhaps a teensy jealous – she hoped this infatuation wouldn’t distract her from gathering titbits of gossip about the other guests. Infatuation. Hmph. She found herself glancing at Charles.
Charles topped up the guests’ drinks while they arranged themselves to pay appropriate attention to the music. The Earl raised his cut glass tumbler for Scotch, and then turned his attention to the piano. In a slightly slurred but contented voice, he said, “Play us a Christmas tune, by Jove!” Nimble on his feet, Charles dodged the Earl’s sloshing glass as he began to swing it in anticipation of the music.
Smirking slightly with urbane distaste, Ian nodded to Julia. They launched into a lively rendition of a song Fina hadn’t heard before, but it had the refrain ‘Santa Claus is coming to town’. A crimson-faced Earl grinned and hummed along – though clearly it was to a tune in his own head. The Countess patted her husband’s arm with a gesture that could have been interpreted as either condescending or encouraging, while Charlotte tried to ignore her uncle by staring at her apparently rather fascinating champagne glass. Other guests listened attentively – though it was a bit too serious, thought Fina, for the rather frivolous tune.
As polite applause broke out at the close of the song, Granville and Leslie stumbled in – with cigarettes escaping at gravity-defying angles from their mouths and tumblers free of liquid. Despite this, Fina thought Granville must be relatively sober, given that he had left his wineglass more or less untouched throughout dinner. Relatively. This was in sharp contrast to his friend who, as she knew all too well, had been on a strict diet of liquid calories since the afternoon.
“Ripping, absolutely ripping,” slurred Leslie, as he saluted the musical entertainment in the corner. Unable to balance all of his various accoutrements, he let his cigarette slip out of his mouth and onto the lap of Gayatri who was now sitting near the door.
Granville snorted with the undisguised glee of a drunk. Charlotte’s eyes were wide with horror as Gayatri quickly brushed off her second dress of the night. Sajida leapt up and rushed at Leslie. Slap. An angry red flush spread across Leslie’s face. She glared at him, saying nothing. Turning around like a soldier at the palace, she moved to tend to her sister.
Charles swooped over to Leslie to pull him away. “Please, sir, why don’t I get you another drink and find a seat for you – over here,” he said, gesturing to two chairs facing one another in the nether regions of the saloon.
Leslie stiffened, as if determined to kick his inebriation by sheer force of will. He and Granville allowed themselves to be installed in a corner obscured from Fina’s vision by a large mahogany chest.
Ruby grabbed Fina’s arm and whispered, “Did you see that? That slap was for more than that drunken accident.”
Fina nodded and grimaced in response as the next song commenced at the behest of the Countess, who was quick to return to the veneer of normalcy.
As apparent rapt attention was expected given their proximity to the performance, Fina’s face stayed fixed, while her mind wandered. There certainly was an atmosphere. And this atmosphere only made her more anxious. She was anxious to begin their search tonight. She was anxious that she would fail in her task and fail her friend. Fina reminded herself that they were in this together, and that she should stop putting Ruby on a pedestal. As her anxieties began to overtake her, she rose and wandered to the French windows.
As she passed by Granville and Leslie, giving them as wide a berth as possible, she heard a few snippets of their conversation. The strong smell of sour Scotch wafted over her as she tried to look casually out the window.
Granville said, “You know I’ll back you up, old chap.”
“Yes, but this whole Parliament business has left me unsettled. And that don – if he gets wind of this, not to mention the press…” responded Leslie.
“We’ll be leaving soon. Everything will be sorted out,” said Granville in a surprisingly soothing voice.
Good, she thought, I hope the scoundrels will be leaving soon.
Self-conscious about her position at the window – in case anyone was watching – she decided to look longingly out the window. She saw the delicate layers of cotton-like snow gently pressing against the lower panes. And still the flakes kept falling. There would be no chance of anyone arriving or leaving tomorrow morning, and perhaps not the morning after. She shivered as she thought about her mission for the night ahead.
10
“Fina? Are you decent?” Ruby tapped lightly on the adjoining door.
“Yes, yes, do come in!”
Ruby entered and collapsed with a sigh in the nearest overstuffed armchair. “Ahhh…” she said as she peeled her feet out of her evening shoes. “These heels are my favourite, but they certainly are not meant for long evenings… I thought the evening would never end!”
“So did I,” mumbled Fina as she munched on a roll – one she had pilfered unobtrusively at dinner.
“Where did you get that roll? I’m ravenous. I couldn’t eat much at dinner,” Ruby said, patting her stomach sadly.
“No, you were too busy chatting up Mr Clavering, darling,” said Fina in a teasing voice. “Too scrumptious for words!”
“Oh pish.” One corner of Ruby’s mouth lifted. It then gave way to a full smile. “He is rather dashing, isn’t he?” Shaking her head and slapping her hands against her thighs, she added, “But enough of that, we have work to do!” She hesitated. “Is the kitchen on that map of places to investigate? I could really investigate the inside of a larder right now.”
“I don’t think it’s on our list, but I suppose we could sneak down for some cocoa before or after our investigation of the other rooms. In fact, that could be our excuse if we are discovered during our search – we’re looking for a book to read and a cup of cocoa before bed.”
Ruby nodded. “Let’s begin. I think we should go together to each room and then to the kitchen. It will look less suspicious if we’re caught slinking around together rather than in separate rooms.”
Slipping into the highly unfashionable but practical plimsolls Ruby had procured for the two of them, they crept down the staircase. Perhaps this was the key to Ruby’s grace, thought Fina. Wear the right shoes and then it’s a snap…
“Oof,” said Fina as she tripped on the beautiful carpet fringe on the landing. She caught herself by grasping the railing.
“Are you all right, Feens?”
“Yes, yes,” said Fina, wincing as she straightened her right ankle. “I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t go all stoic on me, Fina,” said Ruby in her best governess voice.
“No, no, I’m fine. Besides, it takes my mind off the anxiety.”
They continued down the stairs without further mishaps. Fina had the same sensation she had as a child, sneaking down the staircase to see if Father Christmas had arrived. The smell, decorations and sense of danger all heightened the memory. Suddenly, she had an overwhelming urge to giggle. Must be giddy from the excitement, she thought. She suppressed the urge successfully by staring at the eerie portraits of those glum ancestors in the long gallery. Stopping at one rather imposing portrait of a man with his hand on the globe, she looked into his disturbed – perhaps even deranged – eyes. Must be the inbreeding.
Ruby gave a jump next to her as a figure emerged out of the gloom, coming from the direction of the study. Judging by the height and hunched shoulders, it had to be Cyril. He carried a half-full br
andy snifter in his hand, which he waved in their direction as he passed. Mumbling something that sounded like “grmph” under his breath, they smiled as he passed, halting their progress in case he wanted to talk. Barely acknowledging their presence, he scurried up the stairs. As touchy as a weasel, thought Fina. They continued to creep down the corridor.
Fina froze. Cocking her head to the side, she strained to hear. She could hear a gurgle of voices, not too far away. The voices were not moving toward them, nor were they fading in the distance. Ruby pointed a finger toward the study and the two moved in concert toward the entrance. With their backs flattened against the wall near the entrance, they listened.
Fina could recognize Edgar’s voice. “Dash it, Granville, you, you promised… You said you’d made all the arrangements last time you spoke to old Sykes at the bank. Now you tell me you’re planning to withdraw the funds?”
“Sorry, old boy,” retorted Granville, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I guess you’ll have to find some other way to fund your Bolshie ideas. I’m certainly not going to help you.”
A pause. Then Edgar’s voice broke the silence. “I know what you did, Granville.”
At the sound of a glass slamming the table, Ruby and Fina sucked in their diaphragms. Fina hoped they might melt into the background of the tapestries on the wall. Edgar stormed out of the room, nearly tripping over the long rug as he made his exit.
Fortunately for Ruby and Fina, he headed toward the stairs. After what felt to be an eternity to Fina – but was surely just a few minutes – she could hear the smacking of lips after what must have been his final drink. Granville sauntered out of the room, nearly empty snifter in hand. He hesitated in the doorway. With her heart in her throat, she was relieved to see the flicker of a flame, lighting up a cigarette. Swinging the hand with the cigarette at his side, he lumbered in a hushed, inky darkness toward the stairway.