by T E Kinsey
‘The elephant at the dining table?’ suggested Mr Waterford.
‘She’s just big boned,’ said Mrs Beddows, gesturing towards Miss Titmus.
Lord Riddlethorpe ignored her. ‘Inspector Foister telephoned me this morning. There have been some . . . Let me see, what did he say? . . . Ah, yes, that’s it, some “administrative delays” in the matter of poor Ellis Dawkins, and the inquest can’t be held until late next week. We’ll all be called as witnesses, of course. You’re all welcome to stay, if you can. It would be a great help to me if you were able to – I should like to settle things as soon as we’re able.’
There were murmurs of assent.
‘We must get our stories straight,’ said Herr Kovacs.
‘Our stories?’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘We don’t need stories, Viktor. We simply tell the truth.’
‘There will be a scandal if you don’t watch out. You know how the newspapers . . . What is the word? . . . Misrepresent? Yes, misrepresent, I think. You know how the newspapers misrepresent stories involving the aristocracy. You have your deference and your social rules, but you do not always have the respect of your newspapers. They will make much of this.’
‘We have nothing to hide. The police are treating it as an accident, so they’ll not ask about the crash,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe. ‘As far as Foister is concerned, Dawkins lost control on a bend and hit a tree.’
‘But it wasn’t an accident, Fishy, was it?’ said Miss Titmus anxiously. ‘Morgan said the brake cable had been cut. Emily’s looking into it for you. Everyone in the house knows. We’re all going to be in terrible trouble.’
‘She’s right,’ said Mr Waterford. ‘If we tell the truth, we’ll have to mention the sabotage, and then the scandal would be unavoidable. Someone sabotaged that motor car.’
‘No one will lie,’ said Lord Riddlethorpe sternly. ‘If they ask, we shall tell them what we know, and let the cards fall where they may.’
Herr Kovacs narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.
The lunch party broke up quickly after that. Everyone headed back to their rooms to change, but Lord Riddlethorpe hung back. He took Lady Hardcastle to one side, and she signalled for me to join them.
Lord Riddlethorpe was already speaking as I arrived. ‘. . . how you were getting on. You know, with your “investigations”, as it were.’
‘We’re still getting the lie of the land, to be honest, Fishy, dear,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘It’s still early days.’
‘Early days?’ said Lord Riddlethorpe, clearly trying to suppress his frustration.
‘It’s only forty-eight hours since the crash, dear,’ she said equably. ‘But a picture is beginning to form, wouldn’t you agree, Armstrong?’
‘Certainly, my lady,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to take out my frustrations on you. What sort of picture is forming?’
Lady Hardcastle outlined our suppositions about the chain of events leading to the sabotage. Lord Riddlethorpe pursed his lips as he listened.
‘So the timing doesn’t particularly rule anyone out,’ he said when she had finished.
‘Not really, no,’ she said. ‘But Armstrong has come upon some information that might rule at least one person in. Possibly two.’
He looked at me expectantly.
‘How well do you know Herr Kovacs, my lord?’ I said.
‘I’ve been acquainted with him for a few years now. Decent enough chap. Surely you don’t suspect him?’
Without mentioning Evan’s involvement, I explained that we’d seen a copy of Herr Kovacs’s draft letter offering to buy the racing team. I also recounted the conversation between Herr Kovacs and Mr Waterford, as though I had been the one who overheard it.
Lord Riddlethorpe thought for a moment. ‘Just good business,’ he said eventually. ‘He knows the motors are top notch. He’s seen a chance to acquire them at a knock-down price, that’s all. Sound move. I’d do the same.’ The words sounded sincere enough, but something in his manner suggested that he, too, had suspicions about Herr Kovacs.
Mrs Ruddle, the cook, and Patty, her kitchen maid, were already hard at work on preparations for dinner when I brought in the last of the plates from the terrace.
‘. . . but if you drizzle the melted butter, it doesn’t split,’ said Mrs Ruddle.
I put the tray of plates beside the sink.
‘Hello, Miss Armstrong,’ said Patty.
‘Hello, Patty,’ I said. ‘How are things in the most important room in the house?’
The young kitchen maid laughed delightedly.
‘It’s always nice when the other staff appreciate us, my dear,’ said Mrs Ruddle.
‘Everyone always appreciates the cook, Mrs Ruddle,’ I said. ‘And if she’s as accomplished as you . . . well . . .’
The older woman beamed.
‘Have you worked here long?’ I asked.
‘Comin’ on forty years,’ she said proudly. ‘I were younger than little Patty here when I started. I didn’t know a Béarnaise from a brisket.’
‘So you’ve known his lordship since he was born?’
‘You could say as I built him into the man he is today,’ she said. ‘Feedin’ him up, like. Course, they sent him away to school, so I didn’t get a chance to look after him quite as I’d-a liked. Him and Lady Lavinia both. I never did understand that. Nothin’ in the world more joyous than havin’ little-uns about the place, and they send ’em away as soon as they can.’
‘Lady Hardcastle would have given anything to go to school,’ I said. ‘She always says she was terribly jealous of her brother.’
‘It’s an adventure for them, I suppose,’ she said grudgingly. ‘But it still doesn’t seem right. If there’d ever been a Mr Ruddle, I’d-a liked to think we’d-a made a home for our children as they’d not want to get away from so quick, like.’
‘Was there ever a candidate?’ I asked.
She laughed. ‘For Mr Ruddle? I don’t reckon as anyone would pay attention to an old lump like me.’
Patty looked up from her chopping. ‘Rubbish, Mrs R, they’d be lucky to have you.’
‘And look here, see?’ said Mrs Ruddle. ‘I’ve got a kid to be lookin’ after as it is. My life’s not worked out so bad. But now we’ve got to talkin’ about school, I do wish I’d had a bit of schoolin’. I learned to read and write from Mr Selvester – he was the butler here when I was a scullery maid. He taught all us youngsters. Said it would “stand us in good stead”. He was a martinet, mind you. Nasty, nasty man. I reckon he only taught us so we’d know which Bible verse we were disobeyin’. But he done us all a favour. I wouldn’t be where I am if I couldn’t read a recipe. How about you, my dear? Did you get any schoolin’?’
I paused for a moment. I usually didn’t mind sharing my life story, but I had rather hoped to find out a little more about Lady Lavinia and her friends. Still, it looked as though that ship had sailed, so I decided to go along with it. Perhaps I could bring the subject back to her ladyship later. ‘A little,’ I said. ‘I grew up in a circus—’
‘You never!’ said Patty. ‘Ow!’ In her astonishment, her knife had slipped and she had nicked the edge of her finger.
‘Run it under the tap, girl. Quickly,’ said Mrs Ruddle.
‘I really did. One day the circus came to Merthyr Tydfil. My mother and her friends walked over the mountain to see it. The next thing Mamgu – that’s what we called my grandma – the next thing Mamgu knew, my mother’s friends were telling her my mother had run off with the knife thrower. They got married, and I’m the youngest of their seven children. Only youngest by twenty minutes, mind you.’
‘And you lived in the circus?’ said Patty. She was still bleeding, but no longer seemed to care.
‘We did. We travelled all over the country. The lion tamer taught me to read. Whenever we were in a town big enough to have a library, I’d spend all day in there with the books. I didn’t care what it was, just so long as I had my face in
a book.’
Mrs Ruddle laughed. ‘You ran away from a circus to read books,’ she said. ‘Now I’ve heard it all.’
‘Shush, Mrs R,’ said Patty. ‘I think it’s wonderful. Did you learn any tricks? I love the circus.’
‘My father taught me knife throwing,’ I said. ‘I can do a little tumbling, too. And if there’s ever an escaped circus lion on the estate, I know exactly what to do.’
‘Oh my goodness,’ said Patty. ‘What?’
‘Run like the clappers,’ I said.
‘You silly-billy,’ said Mrs Ruddle.
Betty arrived at exactly that moment.
‘What are we all laughing at?’ she asked innocently.
That set the cook and her kitchen maid off again.
‘Just sharing some of the secrets of the circus,’ I said.
‘The circus?’ said Betty. ‘That’s nothing. Why not tell them about the espionage?’
‘Espionage?’ said Mrs Ruddle. ‘Are you spinnin’ us a yarn, Miss Armstrong?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘The one follows the other. Mamgu was ill, so my mother went back to Aberdare, taking the three youngest children with her. My father and our four older brothers stayed with the circus, but Dai – he’s just two years older than me – my twin sister, Gwenith, and I went back to live in the valleys. I was twelve by then, I think. We went to the local school for a year while we all tried to settle into life in a mining village. Dai ended up down the pit like his grandfather before him, Gwenith took over Mamgu’s job in the grocer’s shop, and I . . . I left home again.’
‘To be a spy,’ said Mrs Ruddle suspiciously.
‘No, to be a scullery maid in Cardiff.’
‘And that’s where you met Lady Hardcastle?’ asked Patty.
‘No, I met her in London. I moved to a house in London after two years with the Williamses, and then two years after that, my new employers’ friend, Lady Hardcastle, offered me a job as her lady’s maid.’
‘How wonderful,’ said Patty.
‘At seventeen?’ said Mrs Ruddle. ‘Now I know you’re pitchin’ a tale. Weren’t never no seventeen-year-old ladies’ maids. You take no notice, Patty.’
‘No, Mrs Ruddle,’ said Betty. ‘That part’s true. Mrs Beddows told me that part of it. She doesn’t know anything about the circus, but Lady Hardcastle told them all about how she met Miss Armstrong. She told them about how she and Sir Roderick went to Shanghai and took Miss Armstrong with them. And about how Sir Roderick was murdered and they had to flee for their lives.’
‘Well I never,’ said Mrs Ruddle. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Armstrong, I’m sure. I’ve never heard the like. Well, well, well.’
She and Patty resumed their chopping and stirring, each apparently too dumbfounded to say any more.
Betty, too, simply stood there, lost in thought.
‘Did you want me for anything, fach?’ I asked. ‘Or was it Mrs Ruddle?’
‘What?’ said Betty absently. ‘Oh, no, nothing special. I just came to . . . to . . .’
‘To get away from Mrs Beddows for a bit?’ I suggested.
She sighed. ‘You have no idea what it’s like,’ she said. ‘I swear she’s the most . . . the most . . .’
‘Always was, my dear,’ said Mrs Ruddle. ‘She’s always been the nasty one in their little gang. Lady Lavinia used to bring her little friends home in the school holidays. They was lovely girls, really. Always up to mischief, but usually nothin’ nasty. If there was ever an undercurrent of nastiness, though, it was always little Rosamund Birchett, as she was then, who was the ring leader. She could be right spiteful.’
‘What sort of things did she do?’ I asked.
‘It’s hard to recall specific things,’ she said. ‘There was always summat goin’ on. They loved to play little jokes and tricks on each other, and on the youngsters on the staff, too, sometimes. Good-natured things, for the most part. But if ever things turned ugly, it was always little Miss Birchett as was at the centre of it. They say something happened at their school once, too.’
‘I’m surprised at you, Mrs Ruddle!’ Mrs McLelland, the housekeeper, had appeared like the manifestation of an unquiet spirit. ‘You should be setting Patience a better example than this. You know better than to speak disparagingly about our guests. That’s not the way things are done at Codrington.’
Mrs Ruddle looked none too pleased at being told off in front of her kitchen maid, but, to her credit, she held her tongue.
‘And as for you, Miss Buffrey, I should have thought you would be standing up for your mistress, rather than joining in with this tittle-tattle.’
Betty blushed crimson.
I decided I ought to try to rescue the situation somehow. Ignoring Mrs McLelland, I said, ‘Are you expected back any time soon, Betty?’
‘What? No, she’s writing letters. I’ll have to get her dressed for tea. And then again for dinner. But I’ve got an hour or so to myself.’
‘Come on, then, fach,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and see what mischief we two can get up to on our own.’
As it turned out, Betty and I remained mischief-free. She was reluctant to give details about her most recent run-in with her employer, but it clearly had left her agitated and anxious. We walked in the kitchen garden for a short while, but conversation eluded us. I tried simply sitting on one of the low walls in companionable silence, but she couldn’t settle. Eventually, she apologized for her mood and returned to work.
There was nothing for it: I would have to return to mine.
‘Ah, there you are, Flo,’ said Lady Hardcastle as I entered her room. ‘I was about to ring down for you.’
‘Is there something the matter?’ I said.
‘No, dear, there’s rarely anything the matter. I was just thinking of having a bath.’
‘I shall draw one for you at once.’
‘You’re very kind, but that’s not why I was going to ring. I’ll need you for hair-fettling duties, obviously, but I actually wanted to talk about Kovacs. He’s very high on my list now.’
‘I can see why,’ I said as I went through to the bathroom to run her a bath. ‘And Mrs Beddows, too.’
‘Roz?’ she called. ‘Well, I—’
There was a knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ called Lady Hardcastle.
I stayed in the bathroom, kneeling beside the bath. The taps were already running, but I could still hear what was going on in the next room.
‘Hello, Emily,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘I do hope I’m not interrupting . . . Oh, you’re running a bath. I’ll come back.’
‘Nonsense, Jake, dear. Do come in. Armstrong will take care of it.’
‘She’s here? I’d really rather we were alone.’
‘It’s up to you, of course. I can send her on her merry way, if you wish. If you prefer to come back, I shall be but moments – I’ll be clean and scrubbed in no time. To tell the truth, though, I doubt she can hear us over all that running water.’
‘Very well,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘It’s . . . Look, I’m not terribly good at this sort of thing. I’m not one of Nature’s dalliers and I . . .’
There was a moment or two of silence.
‘Do you think Harry could ever go for a girl like me?’ she gabbled.
‘Oh, Jake, you are silly,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Of course he could. Haven’t you seen the way he’s been looking at you?’
‘Well, I was hoping . . . but he could be a cad, for all I know. He might look like that at any available woman.’
‘No, dear, he’s smitten. It’s true that we don’t see each other as often as we ought, but I’ve never seen him behave the way he does around you. He’s been engineering “chance” meetings all week. He hangs on your every word at the table. You must have noticed him showing off on the tennis court. He never puts that much effort into tennis. It’s all for you.’
‘Oh, I say. How splendid,’ said Lady Lavinia. ‘And you don’t mind?’
‘Mind? Why on earth should I mind?�
��
‘Well, he’s your big brother. I thought I ought to check. I feel terribly protective of Fishy. I’m sure I’d want a full account of any doxy making sheep’s eyes at him.’
‘Well, when you put it like that,’ laughed Lady Hardcastle, ‘I suppose I ought to be more concerned. Are you a doxy? And what are your intentions towards my brother?’
‘Entirely dishonourable, darling, especially now you’ve confirmed that I might not be embarrassed if I made them known.’
‘I should think you’re on to what the gambling fraternity refer to as a “sure thing” there, dear. And, though I’m not certain it’s my place to give it, you have my blessing.’
The bath was becoming alarmingly full, but I feared that if I were to switch off the taps, the conversation would end. I reached in to pull out the plug, keeping the taps running. It was stuck. Bath plugs never get stuck. I yanked fiercely at its chain, but it wouldn’t budge. I stood to get better purchase on the recalcitrant plug.
I’m not entirely certain what happened next. I’ve pieced it together from the reports of others, but my own recollections are hazy. The tiles were wet. The soles of my boots were smooth. I leaned against the edge of the bath and bent forwards to grab the bath plug’s chain. I gave one more mighty heave, and my feet slipped out from under me. I toppled forwards.
The next thing I knew I was lying on my back on the flooded bathroom floor. I was soaked through. My head was pounding. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I felt hands on my face.
‘Flo, dear?’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘Can you hear me?’
I tried to nod my head.
‘No, don’t do that,’ she said. ‘Try to stay still.’
‘I’ll call for the doctor,’ said Lady Lavinia. She sounded a long way off.
‘Thank you, dear, but I don’t think that will be necessary. It’s a nasty bump, but she’s had worse. Haven’t you?’
Even without her injunction against nodding my head, the resulting bolts of pain from the past attempt would have dissuaded me from trying it again. I raised my hand instead, and she squeezed my fingers reassuringly.