Death Around the Bend (A Lady Hardcastle Mystery Book 3)

by T E Kinsey

  Lady Hardcastle, it seemed, had been a bit of a terror, too. I knew that she had been an able scholar (she had read natural sciences), an excellent musician, and an active member of a number of political societies, but I had no idea she had also joined her brother in several pranks.

  ‘I say, Emily, do you remember that business with the sheep?’ said Lord Riddlethorpe between mouthfuls of boiled egg.

  ‘Oh, my word, yes,’ said Harry. ‘You painted them in Girton colours and drove them across the Bridge of Sighs at St John’s.’

  ‘I painted them?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We painted them, brother dearest. I was the one who nearly got herself rusticated over it, though, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘Someone from one of the colleges stood up for you, though, eh?’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘Old Dr Whatshisface with the glass eye.’

  ‘Father wrote you a nice letter, too,’ said Harry.

  ‘They were both extremely helpful,’ she said. ‘You, on the other hand, kept schtum.’

  ‘Well, it was the university that was ticked off, and Girton’s not part of the university, anyway,’ he said. ‘Not properly. I didn’t think they’d have much chance of getting you kicked out, but me . . . well . . .’

  ‘I’ve always thought,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe, clearly trying to fend off a family argument, ‘that the university rather liked to see its undergraduates getting up to mischief. I think they make their regular stern threats of temporary expulsion just for the sake of appearances. I mean, look at Byron and his bear. Anyone else would have sent him down or had him thrown in gaol, but Trinity just shrugged and smiled and said, “Students, eh? What are we going to do with the rascals?” Gives them good stories to tell, what? Sets them apart.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘And it made some of the boys take Girton a bit more seriously.’

  ‘Boys?’ said Lord Riddlethorpe with mock indignation. ‘They were men.’

  ‘They were silly little boys, for the most part,’ she said.

  The two men laughed.

  Just as Lord Riddlethorpe had launched into another reminiscence about the Earl of Somewhere-or-Other and his dalliance with a barmaid at The Eagle, Spinney approached the summer house and coughed politely.

  ‘Begging your pardon, my lord,’ he said quietly, ‘but you asked to be informed when your guests began to arrive.’

  Lord Riddlethorpe fairly leapt out of his seat. ‘Splendid!’ he said. ‘Come on, you lot, let’s go and meet ’em.’

  And with that, he was off, with first Harry, then Lady Hardcastle, then me trailing in his wake as one by one we struggled up from the table and followed him out and across the grass back towards the house.

  I gave Spinney an embarrassed smile as I passed him, but he winked and leaned in to whisper, ‘Just you enjoy it, my dear. Anyone who says you shouldn’t is only jealous.’

  I touched his arm in thanks, and hurried off to join the others.

  By the time Lady Hardcastle and I rounded the corner of the house, Lord Riddlethorpe was already hugging someone of about Lady Hardcastle’s age whom I presumed to be his sister. She was a small woman, with a warm smile and a ready laugh that had already burst forth twice before we reached them. Her eyes were quite the darkest I’d ever seen, but with a twinkle that hinted that her brother’s sense of mischief and his enthusiasm for life might be a family trait. The long, straight nose was definitely a family trait, and might have made another woman plain and unattractive. But set in such a brightly animated face, it lent an air of elegant beauty.

  Rounding the motor from the other side was a tall, slender lady who, by contrast, looked as though she would regard a smile as a bitter betrayal by her face. Her clothes were elegantly cut in the latest fashion, and her expression was one of studied contempt and boredom. Lord Riddlethorpe had said they would be fun, I thought.

  Another lady had shuffled across the rear seat of the motor car and found herself at the opposite door to the one where the chauffeur was waiting to help her, so she struggled out unaided and stood behind the laughing woman, shyly waiting to be greeted. She was plump, with a pretty face but a frightened expression, and though she was taller than the laughing lady, and significantly heftier than the haughty one, she seemed somehow smaller than them both. Where her two friends looked poised and confident, she was much less sure of herself, and her timid manner and posture conspired to diminish her appearance.

  Lord Riddlethorpe greeted the other two ladies warmly and turned to gesture Lady Hardcastle towards them. ‘Emily,’ he said, ‘allow me to introduce my sister, Jake, and her friends Roz . . .’ – the haughty lady nodded a greeting – ‘ . . . and Helen . . .’ The timid lady smiled shyly. ‘Lady Lavinia, Mrs Rosamund Beddows, and Miss Helen Titmus, allow me to present Emily, Lady Hardcastle.’ There followed a round of handshaking and how-do-you-do-ing, which made it look as though Lady Hardcastle were passing along a receiving line. Lord Riddlethorpe was clearly impatient to be done with all the formalities, and as soon as Lady Hardcastle had shaken the last hand, he said, ‘And Harry you all know.’

  Harry waved and offered a cheery ‘What ho’, before Lord Riddlethorpe strode off, leading his guests to the house. Lady Hardcastle gave me a wave and a grin to let me know I was on my own again, and I turned back to the motor car, intending to tell the chauffeur how to find his way to the servants’ entrance. I suspected that he already knew, but it never hurts to offer some friendly help. It was at this point that I noticed that there had been another passenger in the front seat of the motor.

  ‘How do you do?’ she said quietly. ‘I’m Betty. Betty Buffrey. I’m Mrs Beddows’s lady’s maid.’

  ‘The thin one?’ I said, and she nodded. ‘How do you do? I’m Florence Armstrong. I work for Lady Hardcastle. Call me Flo.’

  ‘Righto, Flo,’ she said.

  ‘Did the other two not bring their maids?’

  ‘Miss Perrin, her ladyship’s lady’s maid, travelled ahead by train. She should already be here. Miss Titmus doesn’t have a maid. I gather she makes do with a cook, a housekeeper, and a maid-of-all-work.’

  ‘Ah,’ I said. ‘I’ve not met Miss Perrin yet. All in good time, eh?’

  ‘She’s nice enough,’ she said. ‘And this is Finlay Duggan, Mrs Beddows’s chauffeur.’

  He touched his cap. ‘Call me Fin, miss,’ he said.

  ‘I take it you both know your way around,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ said Betty. ‘We’re regular visitors, aren’t we, Fin?’

  ‘Aye, that we are,’ he said, lifting baggage from the boot of the motor car.

  Evan Gudger was making his way across the drive with an exaggerated lack of haste.

  ‘Hey, Evan!’ called Fin. ‘Get a move on, ya lazy wee beggar! I haven’t got all day. I’ve got to get back to London.’

  I smiled at Betty. ‘Shall we leave the boys to it?’ I asked. ‘I’ll help you upstairs with your bags. We’re sharing a room.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, smiling for the first time. ‘That will be lovely, I’m sure.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ I said. ‘Maybe we can cadge a cup of tea on the way.’

  Chapter Four

  I helped Betty settle into our room. I learned she usually had it to herself on visits to Codrington Hall, but she had assured me that it was going to be ‘perfectly delightful’ to have a companion for a change. She was certainly friendly, and gave every impression of being the sort of kind and generous person that one would be happy to have around. I decided that sharing accommodation with her would be ‘perfectly delightful’, too.

  I had been extremely keen to find out more about her mistress, but I didn’t want to put her in the position of having to be disloyal to her employer, given that I’d already made up my mind that Mrs Beddows was almost certainly not a nice person. Instead, I tried to find out more about our host’s household, but Betty maintained an air of professional discretion and told me only that they were ‘efficient’, ‘hardwor
king’, and ‘friendly . . . for the most part’. I was about to press her on the final caveat when I caught sight of the small clock on the mantel and realized that I ought to be helping Lady Hardcastle to get dressed.

  I gave my apologies for rushing off, and hastened to Lady Hardcastle’s bedroom, expecting to find her impatiently and inexpertly fiddling with her hair in an ill-advised attempt to ‘try something new’. Previous attempts had resulted in disasters of varying seriousness, and I felt it was always wise to be on hand to forestall any meddling.

  I knocked and entered, and found, once again, that her room was deserted. I took the opportunity to lay out her evening clothes and to make sure everything was ready for the party. I found that her favourite blue evening dress was a little wrinkled and there was a slight mark on part of the embroidered decoration on the skirt. I wrote a note to let her know what I was up to, and took the dress downstairs to see what I could do about it.

  There was much frantic activity in the servants’ hall, and it took me a few moments to track down Mrs McLelland, the housekeeper. I thought she might be the best person to ask where, other than the kitchen, I might find a source of steam.

  She was busy making notes on a list of some sort, but she looked up as I entered her room and greeted me politely. When I asked about steaming the dress, she waved towards the little stove in the corner of the room and said, ‘Please help yourself. I’ve a kettle in here that I use.’

  ‘Are you sure I shan’t be in the way?’ I said. ‘You must have a mountain of things to do now that the guests are starting to arrive.’

  Her expression darkened momentarily at the mention of the guests, and I saw an opportunity to test my impressions of Mrs Beddows.

  ‘Does Lady Lavinia bring guests often?’ I asked.

  ‘She does, yes,’ Mrs McLelland said, not looking up from her work.

  ‘The same ones?’ I asked. ‘I mean, does she have a tight circle of close friends?’

  ‘Yes, the same ones. Just Mrs Beddows and Miss Titmus. They were at school together.’

  I waited patiently for the kettle to boil as I examined the dress to decide where best to begin my de-wrinkling. ‘That must be nice,’ I said.

  ‘Nice?’ she said, looking up. ‘Well, I suppose it might be, but I’d not have chosen them as my friends.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked.

  The kettle, into which I had put only the smallest amount of water, had begun to boil, so I began work on the dress. With my attention on the silk, I couldn’t see the expression on Mrs McLelland’s face, but I could hear something odd in her voice as she said, ‘I don’t think it does to talk about the family and their choice of friends, do you?’

  I politely agreed, and we returned to innocuous small talk as I finished bringing the wrinkled dress back to life. I offered my thanks and said my goodbyes, leaving her to her list-making.

  On the way back towards the stairs, I bumped into Mr Spinney.

  ‘Is everything to Lady Hardcastle’s satisfaction?’ he asked.

  ‘It is, thank you,’ I said. ‘She seems to have everything she needs, and more besides.’

  He beamed proudly. ‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ he said. ‘Will you be joining us for supper this evening? Please don’t feel obliged, mind you.’

  ‘It’s going to be a bit hectic down here, isn’t it? What with the party and all. Are you sure you wouldn’t be offended if I kept to myself again?’

  ‘Most certainly not,’ he said. ‘You enjoy your leisure time while you can. Miss Buffrey usually takes supper on her own when she can, too. We’ll send someone up with a tray for you both, and you can spend an evening gossiping together.’

  ‘If you’re sure that would be all right, then that would be lovely.’

  ‘Are you partial to champagne?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, Mr Spinney,’ I said with a grin, ‘I really rather am.’

  He winked. ‘I’m sure his lordship wouldn’t notice if a bottle should find its way upstairs. I’ll see what I can manage.’

  ‘You’re very kind. Thank you.’

  ‘Think nothing of it,’ he said. ‘We all deserve a little treat once in a while. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to brief one of the new footmen in the ways of Codrington Hall. We’re not so very different from other houses, I shouldn’t say, but it never hurts to make sure newcomers are familiar with the local customs.’

  My mind boggled briefly at the thought of what strange customs the people of Rutland might feel the need to warn new staff about, but he took my amused smile as a sign of assent and went on his way.

  When I returned to Lady Hardcastle’s room, I found her sitting at the dressing table.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Flo,’ she said, turning round. ‘I wondered where you’d got to.’

  ‘I was downstairs getting the creases out of your gown,’ I said. ‘I left you a note.’

  ‘You did?’ She looked around. ‘Oh, so you did. Good thinking.’

  I hung the dress up without comment.

  She continued to examine herself in the glass. ‘Not bad for forty-one, eh?’

  ‘Not bad at all, my lady,’ I said. ‘You could easily pass for thirty-nine in a dimly lit room.’

  ‘Cheeky wench. What about the barnet?’ she said, prodding her hair. ‘Do you think I should do something new with it?’

  ‘I think you should leave your hair as it is, my lady.’

  ‘What about the grey ones?’

  ‘They make you look . . .’

  ‘Old?’ she suggested.

  ‘I was actually going to say “distinguished”, my lady, but you may have “old”. How about “venerable”?’

  ‘Anything but “distinguished”. It’s the sort of word one uses to make chaps feel better about being past their prime.’

  I went into the adjoining bathroom to draw a bath for her. ‘Were you ever in your prime, my lady?’ I called.

  ‘I can picture tomorrow’s newspaper headline already,’ she said, arriving suddenly in the doorway. ‘“Maid Mysteriously Drowns in Bath at Codrington Hall”.’

  I ducked out of her way and left her to bathe. She continued to chatter through the half-open door as she slipped into the warm water.

  ‘Any gossip from below stairs?’ she said.

  ‘Not really. The junior footman is a bit of a handful and the housekeeper is rather . . . I was going to say “cold”, but that’s not quite right. A little formal, perhaps. Stiff. Proper. Nothing you could hold against her, but I didn’t warm to her. Other than that, it seems like a very ordinary household.’

  ‘Housekeepers are always odd. I think it’s a requirement.’

  ‘Possibly, my lady. What about the upstairs folk?’

  ‘They’re an unusual bunch, too,’ she said. ‘Fishy you’ve met, of course. Then, let’s see . . . His sister seems nice enough.’

  ‘Jake?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, “Jake”. What an odd name to adopt voluntarily.’

  ‘I’ve known more than one Jake in my time.’

  ‘Yes, but they were all chaps, I’ll warrant. This is because her name is Lavinia.’

  ‘I’m not with you, my lady,’ I said, puzzled.

  ‘Evidently it was shortened to “Lav” at school, and it didn’t take the wags long to get from “Lav” to “Lavatory”, then to “Jakes”, and finally to “Jake”. The poor woman’s named after a water closet.’

  I chuckled. ‘What about the others?’

  ‘The closest of school chums, it seems. Rosamund Beddows is a difficult one to fathom. I can’t quite work out whether her condescending sneer is real or just an affectation to keep people at arm’s length. Although from the way she talks to Helen Titmus, I suspect that it might be the genuine article and she might be an honest-to-goodness nasty piece of work.’

  ‘And Miss Titmus?’

  ‘“Titmouse”, Roz calls her. Charming, but somewhat put upon by her more glamorous friends, I feel.’

  ‘Lady Lavinia, too?’ I said.
‘It seems odd that Miss Titmus should choose to spend her time with people who bully her.’

  ‘To be fair, no, not Jake. I think Helen and Jake are quite close, and she has to endure Roz’s company as part of the bargain. They seem to come as a set.’

  ‘Mrs Beddows does seem to like to be surrounded by the easily controlled. Her maid is terribly quiet and diffident.’

  ‘Roz brought her maid?’

  ‘Yes, my lady. She and I are sharing a room.’

  ‘When did she get here?’

  ‘She came in the car with the ladies,’ I said. ‘She didn’t get out until you’d all gone inside.’

  ‘Well I never,’ she said. ‘My vaunted powers of observation are obviously on the wane.’

  ‘It’s old age, my lady,’ I said as she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a silk dressing gown. ‘You said yourself that you were getting on a bit.’

  I got a ‘harrumph’ for my troubles, and we set about preparing her for the evening’s festivities. Once she was finally brushed, polished, and ready to face the world, I slipped away to my shared room and supper with Betty Buffrey.

  I had lain for quite a while on my bed, reading The Time Machine and revelling in my unaccustomed leisure and sloth. Ordinarily, I loathe inactivity, but there’s something about being away from home that seems to encourage indolence and turn it into a pleasure rather than a torment. Indeed, I was enjoying the solitude so much that I was very nearly disappointed when Betty finally came in.

  Whereas others might bowl boldly into a room – especially one that had been temporarily designated as their own – with a ‘here I am’ flourish, Betty Buffrey entered quietly, almost apologetically, as though she felt that she might be intruding. It was true that she was unused to sharing the room when she was at Codrington Hall, but I very much imagined that she would have entered thusly even had she known the room to be empty.

  ‘Evening, Betty,’ I said cheerfully, trying to put her at her ease.

  ‘Oh, hello, Miss Armstrong,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. I can find somewhere else to sit, if you wish.’