by C. G Oster
Needless to say, the expression on DI Ridley's face wasn't one of cheery compliance. Dory felt embarrassed on his behalf. It was unconscionable that he be treated that way. He was only trying to help, after all, to solve a murder, but to Lady Wallisford, that was an insignificant pursuit compared to this ball. Clearly, the lady wasn't one for heartfelt consideration when it came to the staff, or was it something specific to Nora Sands she didn't like? Dory didn't know the woman well enough to tell.
Chapter 5
"Was Nora Sands well liked?" Dory asked as she sat down to breakfast shortly before dawn. Sleep still affecting her, she had trouble keeping her eyes open. Supper had been a late affair and more guests had arrived.
"Of course she was liked," Gladys said, annoyed at the question. "What a thing to ask."
"Well, someone clearly didn't like her."
Gladys grumbled. Mrs. Parsons appeared, looking perfectly put together. In fact, Dory had never seen her anything but perfectly presented. "Miss Dorothy," she said and turned her attention to Dory. What had she done now? Surely, she couldn't have done so very wrong with the polishing, and there had been no notable incidents at supper.
"Yes, Mrs. Parsons," Dory said as brightly as she could muster this time of the morning.
"His lordship’s sister is arriving this morning, and she will be staying through the summer without a maid. You will have to tend to any of her needs. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Now, I know you have little experience as a ladies' maid, and you are barely qualified as a general cleaning maid, but we have to make do in these extraordinary circumstances, particularly over this weekend."
"Of course," Dory said, wondering if she should be dreading this.
"I will perhaps have to explain to Dowager Lady Pettifer that you are unfortunately rather inexperienced."
Dory nodded and Mrs. Parsons continued. "We are placing her in the west blue room, and she is arriving shortly, so best you wait there." Mrs. Parsons looked down at the half-eaten bread in Dory's hand. "After you are finished, of course." Turning sharply, she left and Dory looked over at Gladys.
"Lady Pettifer won't bite," Gladys said. "She is the nicest out of the lot of them. Been a while since we've had her here. Usually lives in France. You speak French, don't you?"
"Only the barest."
"I thought your mother had said you’d learnt."
“I tried, but Mother exaggerates if she says I know French.”
With a nod, Gladys got up and walked out, making her way toward the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the family and their guests.
*
‘Shortly’ turned out to be closer to midday and for a couple of hours, Dory helped Mavis put linen in the rooms. Mavis was a proper ladies' maid and tended to Lady Wallisford most of the time. As a result, she did less scrubbing and carrying, except today, when her labor was desperately needed in preparing the guest rooms.
"I told you to wait in the blue room," Mrs. Parsons said, appearing in the hallway.
"I was helping Mavis."
"Dowager Lady Pettifer is here and there is no one to tend to her." The rebuke was sharp in Mrs. Parsons voice.
"I'm sorry. I was just trying to help."
"And now you must see to your mistress."
Dory ran down the hall toward the west blue room and quietly knocked on the door. "Come in," she heard from the door and she quietly stepped inside. A woman was sitting at the dressing table, her dark blue hat on the dresser in front of her. Gray hair was neatly clipped into place and light blue eyes surveyed Dory through the mirror. Dory did a bobbing curtsey. "My maid, I take it," she said, her skin was powdered around her rounded chin.
"You can call me Dory."
The woman turned around and looked at Dory properly. "Quite informal, aren't you?"
"I suppose." Had she put a foot wrong already? Perhaps Mrs. Parsons was being too hopeful thinking she could be a ladies’ maid.
"In that case, I will call you Dory, just here between you and me." She turned away again. "I'm glad you built me a fire. I do so suffer in the cold English weather."
"I understand you live in France," Dory said, not knowing if she was being too forward. Essentially, she was breaking Mrs. Parsons ‘no speaking unless spoken to’ rules.
"The south of France, actually. The Cote de Azure. I find the weather there suits me." As far as Dory could tell, there wasn't rebuke in her voice, so the lady didn't seem to mind her speaking. "Where is that other girl, the one I had last time?"
Dory's smile slid from her face, because she guessed it hadn't been Mavis. "Miss Sands had an unfortunate development." As she recalled that was along the lines of what Mrs. Parsons had said when Dory had first arrived, or something to that effect.
"Oh, I am sorry to hear that. Nothing bad, I hope."
This really shouldn't be her position, telling this woman, but it was a direct question. Technically, she needed to respond. "Quite bad."
Lady Pettifer's eyebrows rose as she was waiting for a response. Was there a delicate way of putting this? Dory was searching for one. "It appears she was attacked. Fatally so." The shock was evident on Lady Pettifer’s face, and clearly, Lord and Lady Wallisford hadn’t felt this was news that needed to be shared with anyone.
"In the village?"
"At the bottom of the stairs," Dory said carefully, vaguely pointing.
The woman gasped, but she remained quiet after that, tending to something on her dressing gown while Dory unpacked her trunk, hanging up the dresses and putting away toiletries. Whenever Dory looked over the woman was distracted. "That is distressing to hear," Lady Pettifer finally said. "I am so sorry for her family."
"Yes," Dory agreed and wondered if Lady Pettifer was more sorry than any of the other family members. "There has been a detective here asking questions."
"And has he found anything?"
"Not that I can tell. Obviously, I'm not in his confidence, but it seems he is asking questions of everyone, although not all are giving him the easiest time of it."
"Is that so?" Again, Dory worried if she'd just said something she shouldn't have.
"Did Mrs. Parsons inform you that I don't have a great deal of experience? I'm the replacement, you see, made on short notice. I am the niece of Mrs. Moor, the cook. I've worked mostly in offices—insurance."
"I see," the woman said with a smile that made her whole face soften.
"So you will forgive me if I do anything wrong, and please tell me if I do."
"And how are you finding working in a country house?"
"I hadn't expected it to be quite so murderous."
The woman chuckled. "No, I dare say not. I suppose they are assuming it was some madman come and randomly murdered the girl."
"It has been mentioned once or twice."
"Murder is rarely some madman. There is typically a reason," Lady Pettifer said.
"That's what I said, but I find people prefer to believe otherwise."
"Which means there is a murderer in our midst. How distressing. We shall have to watch our surroundings." The woman visibly shuddered.
"DI Ridley seems a very competent man. I am sure he will catch the culprit in short order," Dory said, trying to comfort the woman, feeling responsible for being the one to tell her. "Now is there anything you need?"
"Perhaps you could press my gown for tonight while I rest. I will stay in my room for the rest of the afternoon. Return early evening and help me dress."
"Of course," Dory said, taking the gown she had just hung on a hook inside the wardrobe door. Quietly as she could, she left the room, again wondering if she had been much too liberal with her thoughts. Although knowing that she was wondering probably meant yes, she had not acted with the quiet deference she should have. Lady Pettifer had made no indication that she minded.
The supper ahead of the ball was much more informal, more a banquet with trays from which people could choose from. Dory had to help, and to clean away plates as needed.
There seemed to be a hundred people there and it was hard to keep up. Long slim gowns in every color milled around, including ostrich feathers and fur collars. Jewelry of the most exquisite tastes was draped around necks and wrists. Women even wore glittering, bejeweled tiaras. Dory caught herself simply watching at times, forgetting the work she was supposed to do in her drab uniform. It was a scene unlike one she had ever seen, one she absolutely didn't belong in. It was hard not to indulge in watching the ball scene in front of her, which every girl who'd ever been told a fairy tale would automatically be drawn to.
Lady Wallisford loved the attention, wearing a gown made of a burnt gold material. Dark feathers embellished the bottom of the skirt. It would be impossible to clean that dress, Dory thought. Lord Wallisford and his sons all wore black tie, impeccably cut garments that were obviously sewn to fit their frames. The best suits money could buy.
The blond one was flirting with a woman—successfully too, by the look of it, while the darker haired one was standing with his father amongst a group of men smoking cigars. Glasses of champagne were handed out by waiters that Dory knew were not part of the staff of the house.
For being a ball, there was actually very little dancing. There were the few couples in tight embrace, moving to the rhythm of the playing band. Somehow Dory had expected more, but obviously, this wasn't that kind of ball. There were going to be fireworks later, though, close to midnight.
There would be little sleep that night and a mountain of work to do in the morning.
Across the large ballroom, Dory saw Lady Pettifer in the gown that Dory had refreshed. She spoke to women similar to her age. The woman must have gone to balls her whole life. Dory couldn't image what it would be like to be invited to a ball like this. Obviously, she'd been asked to the dance hall a time or two, and jewelry and fine gowns besides, it wasn't all that different, was it? Although she wished the young men who asked her out looked as smart in their clothes as the Fellingworth boys did in their tuxedos. That would be the day.
Chapter 6
Dory refused to sleep away most of her day off even if she easily could. It felt so lovely not to drag herself out of bed at the crack of dawn, but equally, she wanted to explore this place she now found herself in. Some of the staff were going to Aylesbury shortly after Sunday service, but Dory was going to stay in Quainton. Yes, Aylesbury was larger and had more amenities, but first, she wanted to see more of Quainton than the train station. She could have lunch in the pub, then walk home from there. It was going to be lovely, she decided.
Quainton might not be large, but for a first time, she was sure there was plenty to explore. It also had a little store from what she understood and she would buy a magazine. Larry the gardener had mentioned a windmill. She'd never actually seen a real one before.
Dragging herself out of bed, she dressed. The air wasn't quite as chilly that morning, so hopefully, it would be a gorgeous spring day. They could use some nice weather after the long winter.
There was a stillness when she reached the basement. The endless little tasks of ironing, carting, polishing and a hundred more had all been put to the side. A light breakfast was served to the family and any remaining guests after the party yesterday. Lady Pettifer hadn't needed assistance this morning, for which Dory was grateful.
Many of the staff were sitting around the dining table in silence as Dory walked in, lost in their own thoughts, or reading the paper like Mr. Holmes. Gladys smiled, finishing off her eggs and kippers, already dressed for going to church. Being a bit late, Dory had to hurry as they were leaving soon.
It turned out that the estate had several vehicles, and the staff squeezed in wherever they could. George, the driver, was taking the family in the large Salmson. Cedric had to sit up with George to make room in the back. By the looks of it, Vivian hadn’t made it.
The church was beautiful, old and stone. Dory tucked her hands under her thighs to keep warm when they sat down in the cold pews. Surprisingly, her breath wasn't condensing in front of her. The clear spring day outside hadn't reached inside the church, it seemed. The family sat in the front pew. Dory saw Lord and Lady Wallisford, Cedric and Lady Pettifer. Vivian was still absent. Perhaps he had returned to London, or wherever he dwelled.
It wasn't a long service, and Dory was grateful they didn't have a reverend who wanted to keep them as long as possible, as if their eternal salvation was predicated on sheer stamina. In fact, the reverend was quite handsome. Late twenties, perhaps. He looked kind. In a way, it was a shame because she could never make a true confession to a handsome, young man. It just went against the grain.
And then they were free. Clara and Mavis went with Larry, who made a half-hearted attempt to get her to come to the pictures, but she actually wanted to spend some time on her own. Sometimes she needed that. And on a beautiful day like this, what point was there spending it inside a dark picture theater? Gladys was having lunch with a couple of the ladies from the village, but Dory declined the invitation. She waved them all off as they left, relishing the opportunity to spend some time without their company. That sounded ungenerous, but spending all week with them was enough without keeping them company on her day off as well. Alright, there might be a tinge of guilt at her own reclusive behavior, but that couldn't be helped.
Most of the village was built of the same stone as the church. There had to be a quarry somewhere near that had been used to build the village. Some houses were red brick, looking more like Swanley. It was beautiful and peaceful, quiet on a late Sunday morning. The windmill with its long sails could be seen from anywhere in the village. All in all, it was a lovely village.
A dark thought crept into her mind. If not someone from Wallisford Hall, then someone from this village had murdered Nora Sands. Suddenly, the cheery facades of the village buildings looked more ominous. There could potentially be a secret hiding amongst these houses, something that caused a person to murder a young woman. Was Nora a local girl? Dory didn't know, had never thought to ask.
Feeling the need for a constitutional, Dory made her way to the pub. It was warm and welcoming, a building with a low ceiling and all sorts of interesting knick-knacks nailed along the walls and ceiling beams. Polished wooden tables filled the space and Dory claimed one, ordering a steak and kidney pie.
Farmers stood around the bar, chatting and drinking even at this early hour. As her gaze traveled along, she saw DI Ridley sitting in a corner with a glass of ale in front of him and reading a paper. Dory guessed he lived upstairs for the duration of his stay. No doubt a village like Quainton could not support a full-time detective. He had to be from Aylesbury or even further away—Oxford or even London.
Dory watched him for a moment, his brown hair was neatly combed. There was no ring glinting on his finger, so he wasn't married. Neither had he been in the church that morning, which meant he either didn't attend outside his own parish, or he didn’t attend at all. For a moment, she considered walking over there and joining him. No doubt he could answer whether Nora Sands was local or not, but then he might not appreciate discussing the topic on what appeared to be his day off. Did policemen have days off when they worked a case? She had no idea.
Grabbing her seltzer, she picked up her handbag and walked over. "DI Ridley. Dory Sparks. This must be where you keep yourself when you are not intently questioning up at Wallisford Hall."
He looked up for a moment, and stared blankly at her as if trying to place her. "The new staff member."
"That's me," she said, sitting down. "I was wondering if Nora Sands was a local girl."
DI Ridley took a moment to consider her before answering. "No, she was from Banbury up north from here. Norwest to be exact. Why do you ask?"
"I was just curious, I suppose. I have her room now, you see. None of her effects are there, but I can't not be reminded of what happened to her. I suppose the culprit must either be from the Hall or from this village."
"Yes," he said guardedly.
Her st
eak and kidney pie arrived. "Care if I join you?"
"It appears you already have."
"I take it you have been sent here from London or Oxford."
"London. The Met."
Grabbing the knife and fork, she prepared to demolish the neatly constructed pie. "Must be quite a change for you being in such a small village. In a way, it must make it easier because the suspects are confined in both number and space, where everyone knows everyone. Hard to hide a crime in a small village."
"You would think so," he said dryly. "Are you particularly interested in crime, Miss Sparks?"
"Not really. I suppose, it was a constant issue where I worked at the insurance office. When money is involved, people are more likely to do things out of their character."
"Or show their true character."
The pie was rich with thick, spiced gravy. The peas were fresh, maybe even picked that morning. Dory was pleasantly surprised. "You must be good at judging characters."
"I am fooled sometimes, but not often."
"I am sorry Lady Wallisford was so rude to you. It was unnecessary."
"I doubt she would like you to speak on her behalf."
His brown eyes observed her and she wondered what he thought. He gave little away. "My aunt said that Nora had a way of constantly getting herself into trouble."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know. She didn't elaborate."
"Well, thank you for telling me, Miss Sparks."
Dory smiled, glad she could be of help. In short order, her pie was finished and an awkward silence developed. "I suppose I should get going. There are a few things I want to do before I return to the Hall. Can't quite call it home yet. Perhaps that will change in time. The field of domestic service is new to me, so not sure I will ever feel at home in someone else's house, particularly in the room of a girl who was so horribly… dispatched."