01 - Murder at Ashgrove House

by Margaret Addison

  ‘Well, actually, I did, Mother’, admitted Lavinia rather sheepishly. ‘I wanted to impress Rose; she’s only seen me in those awful shop clothes.’

  ‘Excellent, that’s my girl,’ said Lady Belvedere grinning with obvious delight; it was not a pretty sight.

  ‘It’s a pity Edith is going to be here,’ said Lavinia more to herself than to her mother, ‘although I suppose Aunt Connie will keep her occupied. She’ll probably wonder about in the gardens daydreaming and go to bed early, thank goodness, her sort always do. I just hope that she doesn’t behave all silly over Cedric again, it was too embarrassing last time. If you had been there, Mother, you’d have been absolutely horrified.’

  ‘Edith?’ said Lady Belvedere sharply. ‘Edith Settle, that was? Edith Settle is coming to Ashgrove this weekend?’

  ‘Yes, but she’s Edith Torrington now, Mother. I think she married a bank manager or someone like that. She quite often comes to stay with Aunt Connie. I think Aunt feels sorry for her, you know, after everything that’s happened to her. It is rather sad, after all. I suppose we should be charitable….’

  ‘Edith is coming here?’ Lady Belvedere repeated the question slowly to herself and seemed suddenly oblivious to her daughter’s presence.

  Lavinia eyed her curiously, somewhat alarmed, for she was not used to seeing her mother behave in such a way.

  ‘What is it, Mother? I know it’ll be a bit awkward and we’d both rather she’d not be here. But she is an old friend of Aunt Connie’s and Aunt’s bound to occupy her and keep her away from Cedric. I bet Constance’s as worried as we are that there might be a repeat performance of Edith’s behaviour the last time she laid eyes on Cedric. I’m sure she’ll do everything in her power to prevent it from happening again. She’s probably roped in poor old Stafford and Uncle William –.’

  ‘Be quiet, child, let me think,’ snapped Lady Belvedere.

  ‘What about, Mother? I’m sure everything will be all right. I know Aunt Connie is a bit absentminded and flaps around a bit, but I expect between her and Uncle William they have got everything sorted out. I know you’ve never liked Edith very much and I have always wondered why, what with you all being at school together when you were young and everything.’

  ‘What makes you think I don’t like Edith, Lavinia?’ the countess said sharply, eyeing her daughter suspiciously, as if she thought she might have an ulterior motive for saying what she had done.

  ‘Well, I don’t know exactly, I just well assumed you didn’t, Mother,’ replied Lavinia, beginning to feel uncomfortable under her mother’s unflinching gaze. ‘I mean you never speak of her, or ask her to stay, even though she is some sort of distant relative of ours and quite poor in comparison to us. Why else would she have married a bank manager of all people?’

  ‘You’re right, Lavinia,’ said her mother, noticeably relaxing a little. ‘I didn’t like her very much when we were children. Her family hardly had two pennies to rub together and yet she was always going about giving herself airs and graces and saying as how we were all related and so must be friends. You know what Constance is like. She was totally taken in by her. I think she felt rather sorry for her even then, even before … but I could see right through her, I can tell you, I knew exactly the type of person she was and what she was after right from the start.’

  ‘And what was that, Mother?’

  ‘What?’ Lady Belvedere looked up quite startled.

  ‘What did she want? What was she after?’

  ‘Oh … em, well nothing, nothing important anyway,’ replied the countess, hurriedly and she started to change the subject, reprimanding Lavinia again for working in the dress shop and bringing ridicule on her family. But her reactions had not been quick enough, for Lavinia had caught a look on her mother’s face, and although it had been there very briefly, seconds at most, she recognised it for what it was. It was a look that she had rarely, if ever, seen before on her mother’s face. And as she tried to take in its significance, for she was both shocked and surprised in equal measure, she was sure of one thing. The look she had caught on her mother’s face, brief and fleeting though it had been, had been one of fear.

  ‘Well, Miss Crimms, do we know what the situation is with regards to our guest’s dress?’ enquired Stafford accosting the lady’s maid once the dishes and the remains of food had been cleared away from the dining room, and the presence there of the butler and the footman was no longer required. ‘Has Spencer had time to unpack the luggage and go through Miss Simpson’s wardrobe?’

  ‘Indeed she has, Mr Stafford, and I made sure that I was on hand to look through Miss Simpson’s clothes with her myself. Martha, as I’m sure you’re already aware, Mr Stafford, is going to have to act as lady’s maid to both Lady Lavinia and Miss Simpson on top of her usual duties as upper housemaid; I myself am going to have my hands full, I can tell you, standing in for Lady Belvedere’s lady’s maid. Why the countess couldn’t bring her own lady’s maid with her, I can’t imagine.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll manage very well, Miss Crimms, although I know Lady Belvedere can be very exacting. It’s probably just as well that none of the guests have brought their servants with them, as there may have been a shortage of accommodation and certainly it would have been very cramped in the servants’ hall, to say nothing of all the additional cooking the kitchen and scullery maids would have been required to do on top of helping Mrs Palmer prepare the dishes for the household. It’s unlikely Lord Sedgwick will bring his valet with him, or Lord Sneddon, if he accompanies him; Albert will have to double up as valet to both the young lords and Briggs will have to valet for Lord Belvedere as well as for Sir William.’

  ‘It does seem an awful lot of additional work, Mr Stafford, if only we’d been given a bit more notice, we could have brought in some help from the village.’

  ‘I am sure her ladyship feels the same,’ replied Stafford, ‘she was given very little warning herself.’

  ‘Oh, and I almost forgot Mrs Torrington, I suppose I’ll have to act as lady’s maid to her too, although perhaps Martha and I will be able to do her between us, because if I remember rightly, she’s very undemanding.’

  ‘We were talking about Miss Simpson’s wardrobe, Miss Crimms,’ reminded the butler, feeling that the conversation had been allowed to digress somewhat.

  ‘Oh, indeed,’ replied Miss Crimms, enthusiastically. ‘Well I’m pleased to say that it won’t be necessary to raid her ladyship’s wardrobe or bring a hot iron into play, Mr Stafford. Miss Simpson’s wardrobe seems quite appropriate, very proper; in fact one might even go so far as to say it’s a little boring for one so young. Why, I could see her ladyship wearing Miss Simpson’s evening gown, black silk velvet, it is, a little old and a trifle worn in a couple of places, I’ll admit, but it’s quality dressmaking all the same.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. Well, that’s one less thing to worry about, Miss Crimms. Right, I think we’d better get back to our duties, we have more than enough to be getting on with.’

  Lavinia left her mother on the first floor landing and made her way down the grand wooden staircase. Lady Belvedere had claimed to be tired after her journey and wanted to have a rest before Cedric joined them, although her daughter thought it more likely that she had wanted to be alone so she could think.

  Lavinia pondered over the look that she had seen on her mother’s face. It had crossed her face only fleetingly, but Lavinia was sure that she had not been mistaken, that for one brief moment Lady Belvedere had revealed she was afraid. And if her mother was frightened, then so was she. Much as she disliked her mother and was constantly anxious about causing her displeasure due to the inevitable unpleasant consequences of such an action, she was confident of her mother’s authority, which conversely she found rather reassuring in that, by association of being her daughter, she felt herself comfortably safe.

  It seemed to her incredible that her mother could be afraid of Edith Torrington, a mere distant relation who was poor in compa
rison with the Belvederes. She led a different life from them and mixed in different, lesser circles; not only that, she was so pathetic, so insignificant, and yet it had been the mention of her name that had caused the look of fear to cross Lady Belvedere’s face, Lavinia was sure.

  It occurred to her then that she did not really know very much about Edith. She had met her occasionally at Ashgrove if their visits happened to coincide. However, Edith had tended to keep herself very much to herself on those occasions, withdrawing from the body of the group to sit on the edges. Then Lady Withers would whisper, none too quietly Lavinia always thought, and cringed least Edith heard, that they must be kind to her after everything she had been through, after her great tragedy. And even Lavinia, who always tended to think of herself before others, was hushed into obeying because it all seemed so awful somehow, that something so terrible could have happened to someone so insipid.

  As she entered the drawing room where she had expected to find Rose, she looked out of the French windows and saw that her friend was walking amicably through the formal gardens with Lady Withers who, every now and then, was pointing out a flower-bed or shrub that she thought might be of interest to her guest. Even from where she was standing well inside the room, Lavinia could just make out her aunt’s vague, rambling words as they carried on the wind. It seemed to be very much a one-sided conversation with little opportunity given to Rose to contribute, for Lady Withers did not pause for a moment for breath. Lavinia laughed. How very typical of dear old Connie, she never changed, nothing ever seemed to at Ashgrove. With that thought she ran to join them and forgot all about her mother being afraid. It was only later that she remembered.

  Edith came to with a start. She must have been daydreaming. She did that so often now, that she was not even conscious that she was doing it. She found it hard to remember how her days had been before, when she had participated in the world around her and not found the need to retreat into her own thoughts.

  She turned her head and looked at the wooden clock on the mantelpiece, her eyes widening in surprise as she realised that somehow two hours had gone by since her husband had left for work. How had that happened? It seemed only a few minutes ago. If she didn’t get a move on she would not arrive at Ashgrove until just before dinner and that really wouldn’t do, it would be much too late and Constance was bound to telephone to see where she was and Alice would let slip to Harold about her very late departure and then he would know that she had been going over her memories, thinking of a time when she had been happy ... She could see his face now, creased up with all that pent up hurt that he was trying so hard not to show in case he exploded.

  Oh, why did she have to cause him so much pain? He was a good man who deserved better, a better wife than her, anyway. He should never have married her, she realised that now; he could have been happy with a different wife, a wife who wasn’t her. Poor Harold, if only things had been different, if only … but no, she must not allow herself to dwell on “if onlys”. When she thought about it, her life had been full of “if onlys”, really nothing else but “if onlys”, but she must not allow herself to think about it now otherwise she would drive herself mad. A little voice inside her head told her that she was already half mad. But one had to go on, everyone expected one to go on, Harold expected her to go on and she was trying so hard not to disappoint him any more than she had done already. She owed him that much at least, it was just that she found it all so difficult, this going on.

  Reluctantly she roused herself from her chair and went to pack her suitcase. If she asked Alice to do it for her, it would take all day because Alice had no idea what one wore in the country, she was such a townie. It would be nice to see Ashgrove again, the lovely gardens, the woodland, the lake. If only she could have been there alone to enjoy it, to take in the sunshine and the glorious flowers with perhaps only the faithful and unobtrusive Stafford and Mrs Palmer on hand to see to her few needs. She didn’t want Constance to be there. She didn’t want to endure Constance’s endless chatter and catch her every so often looking pityingly at her out of the corner of her eye, while all the time knowing that Constance thought that she should have got over it all by now, that was the British thing to do after all, keeping a stiff upper lip.

  But it was easier said than done and it was all very well for Constance to think like that, Constance who had been pretty and rich and popular and had never longed or wanted for anything in her life, but had got everything handed to her on a plate. Sometimes she hated Constance. She tried not to, because really it wasn’t fair of her, it wasn’t Constance’s fault after all and Constance was so kind to her, even if it was in a rather absentminded, patronising way.

  Well, at least there weren’t going to be any other guests, except for Lavinia and her friend, of course, and Edith could easily keep out of their way by walking in the gardens and in the woods because they would hardly want to bother with a middle-aged woman like herself. It might prove a blessing in disguise because hopefully Constance would spend most of her time fussing over them and subjecting them to her trivial chatter. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. And after all, there was always William, if things got too bad, there was always William.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Mrs Palmer, I wondered if I might have a quiet word.’

  The cook-housekeeper had rarely seen the butler look uncomfortable, if ever, and she was immediately intrigued.

  ‘But of course, Mr Stafford, shall we go to my sitting room or to your parlour?’

  ‘To my parlour, I think, Mrs Palmer. Hopefully I won’t keep you a minute because of course I know how busy you are with all this extra work associated with our additional guests; young Bessie told me you weren’t able to get much help in from the village today.’

  ‘No indeed, Mr Stafford, I’m afraid it was too short notice, we’ll have to cope the best we can today, but I’m hoping that we’ll have more luck tomorrow otherwise we’ll all be working all hours,’ replied Mrs Palmer, following the butler to his parlour. ‘You’d think with the amount of people out of work these days, we’d have no problem getting people in to help out for a few hours. Now, what did you want to talk to me about, Mr Stafford, I’m assuming that it isn’t about labour shortages?’

  ‘No, indeed not, Mrs Palmer. It’s really rather a delicate matter, I’m afraid,’ said Stafford, closing the door behind them, ‘and I’m not sure exactly how to put it without shocking you. ‘It concerns young Lord Sedgwick’s friend, Marquis Sneddon. I wouldn’t have mentioned anything until I was sure that he was definitely coming, but I was afraid that things would get too busy later on to discuss things properly, so I thought we should deal with the issue now.’

  ‘Indeed, Mr Stafford, you intrigue me,’ Mrs Palmer was all ears. ‘Is there an issue with this friend of Master Cedric’s? A marquis, you say he is, Mr Stafford?’

  ‘It’s a courtesy title, Mrs Palmer. He’s the only surviving son of the Duke of Haywater and so is heir to the dukedom. But I’m afraid there is an issue, Mrs Palmer. I am sorry to say that the gentleman has a certain, how shall I put it delicately, a certain reputation for leading young servant girls astray in the houses he is staying in.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Indeed, Mrs Palmer, I’m afraid so. You may recall that I am on quite friendly terms with Mr Gifford, the butler at Beswick Hall, and when he discovered that Lord Sedgwick had struck up a friendship with the marquis, he saw fit to warn me of what happened when Lord Sneddon stayed at Beswick Hall last summer. I’m sorry to say that when he was in drink he got one of the young housemaids into trouble and she had to be sent away. When Gifford looked into the matter further, he discovered that a similar thing had occurred the previous year when Lord Sneddon was a guest at another country house.’

  ‘Oh, Mr Stafford, how awful, think about our poor girls!’ wailed Mrs Palmer. ‘Young Annie has got her head screwed on alright, but what about Bessie and little Edna. They are daft as can be about boys; they’re just the sort of foolish young
girls to be impressed by a duke’s son taking an interest in them. And then one thing will lead to another, they have no sense these young girls, no sense at all.’

  ‘I am thinking about our young girls, Mrs Palmer,’ replied Stafford solemnly, ‘and that is why I’m suggesting putting certain measures in place in order to deter his lordship from making any unsuitable advances to them. The families of these young girls entrust us with their daughters’ wellbeing. It is our duty to provide them with moral guidance and to keep them safe from harm while they’re under this roof. And I cannot tell you what shame it would bring on this house, or how much I would feel I had failed, if a servant from Ashgrove were to leave in disgrace.’

  ‘Ay, that’s the trouble of it, isn’t it, Mr Stafford? Everyone will say that the girl has done what she shouldn’t have done and ought to have known better, and if she takes her trouble home, likely as not it’ll be the threat of the workhouse for her. But no-one ever thinks less of the man who got the girl into trouble, they don’t blame him for it, he’s just seen as a bit of a lad, especially if he’s a duke’s son. It isn’t fair, Mr Stafford, I can tell you that, there’s one rule for men and another for women.’

  ‘That as may be, Mrs Palmer, and I don’t say as I don’t agree with you, but I’m afraid that, while society thinks the way it does, there is nothing that we can do about it except do everything in our power to make sure nothing of the sort happens at Ashgrove.’ The butler looked both sad and solemn, but Mrs Palmer fancied underneath both those emotions she could also see a look of steel and determination. ‘It would seem that these occurrences happen late at night when the household is asleep and the young lord is the worse for drink. We must make sure that he is given no opportunity to roam about the house and visit the servants’ bedrooms. He won’t be able to get to them through the attic door because we can easily keep that locked. What is worrying me, Mrs Palmer, is what we do about the green baize door off the hall. That’s the only other way he can gain access to the servants’ quarters. But we can hardly keep that locked, not with her ladyship the way she is.’