by C. G Oster
"This is a warning to you," Mrs. Parsons said. "Any more transgressions on your part, then we will have to think long and hard if you belong in a place like this—in domestic service at all. It does not suit everyone, you know. You are only here because of Gladys, and she will be most dishonored if you can't figure out how to behave yourself."
Dory sat in silence until Mrs. Parsons dismissed her. Her cheeks still glowed by the time she walked out of the woman's office to take her seat for lunch. Gladys already sat at the table and by the look of it, none of this had been mentioned to her yet. Dory could imagine her scowl if she knew Dory had been accused of questioning members of the family about this murder. She would not be impressed and the scolding she got from Mrs. Parsons would be pressed on her again.
Lunch was an uncomfortable affair. Mrs. Parsons' accusations refused to leave Dory's mind. How could she be resented for trying to find out what happened to Nora? Shouldn't they all be trying to find out? But to tell her off, wasn't that careless?
She didn't dare look at anyone. The accusation had originally come from Mr. Holmes, who must have heard some of the discussion between her and Lord Wallisford. He and Mrs. Parsons would have reviewed her behavior between them, deemed it was inappropriate and decided she needed to be censured.
As soon as reasonable, she left the table, being too wound up to eat. She would suffer for that later, but right now, everything she put in her mouth went down like gravel. The need to escape the house was overwhelming and she made her way out into the sunshine, walking away and down to the pond. Partially, she wanted to be away, but she also felt the need to move.
Wind formed ripples across the water and three ducks swam lazily, safe from the lord of the manor's guns until autumn when the hunting season began. Strange how they were welcome friends now and mortal enemies once the hunting season started.
Dory sat down at the edge of the pond and pulled the heads off some daisies. The petals were soft between her fingers.
"You look troubled." A voice startled her when she hadn’t been expecting anyone to be there. Dory turned to see Vivian.
"Where did you come from?" There was expanse of lawn all around and she hadn't seen him at all.
"You practically walked past me."
The acrid smoke from his cigarette came in wafts. He wore light brown slacks and a white shirt, looking very handsome and summery. As opposed to Cedric, Vivian embraced a level of informality at home. Cedric always stuck to his dark or tweed suits, having nowhere near the flair for style that Vivian did.
"Finding life at Wallisford Hall unbearable?" he said with a furrowed brow and a distant expression. "This place is terminally impuissant."
Pressing her lips together, she didn't want to admit that she had no idea what he meant. ‘Impuissant’ wasn't a word she knew and now she felt stupid. For all his shortcomings, he was educated, and with words like that, it showed.
"Just not sure domestic service is for me," she mumbled.
"Can't blame you. It must tedious picking up after other people. I certainly wasn't made for it."
Not sure you were made for work in any capacity, she thought, but held her tongue. "Work is work, I suppose," she said. "Some of us must."
"Pity you, then," he said and squashed the butt of the cigarette on the lawn. He started to move away. Dory rose. As much as she was wary of Vivian, this was an opportunity to find out more. It seemed she wasn’t entirely able to take her recent telling off to heart, or maybe she was spiting the censure given to her.
For all Vivian’s blasé dismissal, he did seem to know what others did and thought.
"Do you know Michael Jones?" she asked before he'd moved too far away. He stopped and turned, his blond hair slightly catching in the breeze from the sun-bleached wave across his head. "Questioning me again?"
"I was just wondering. You seem to notice things." Flattery never hurt, she decided, and Vivian was probably susceptible to a bit of flattery. His eyebrows rose.
"Come to my room and I'll tell you everything I know about Michael Jones."
It was Dory's turn to frown. Like hell would she be talked into coming to his room. That look in his eye was part teasing and part something else she didn't want to explore. Yes, he was absolutely teasing her, knowing this made her uncomfortable—and he was using her curiosity against her. "That would be the day," she said with a snort, and he smiled.
"I don't know what it is you have against me. I'm almost hurt."
"Probably because you're almost hurt."
Twisting his head, he regarded her for a moment. "Yes, I know Michael Jones, he lives in the village. Not well, obviously. We've never been chums or anything. Too dense for my taste. Are you trying to impress that detective?"
"No!" she said, perhaps a little too forcefully.
"I think you're sweet on that detective." A playful smile spread across his lips. "How banal."
Dory was gritting her teeth. Oh, how she wanted to punch him in the face, but that would certainly get her fired. She was on thin ice as it was. Was this what he did—drove people up the wall? He certainly did his family members. Cedric was close to losing his composure every time Vivian was near.
"Why are you so caustic to everyone?" she accused.
"Because I can be," he said and walked away, lighting another cigarette. Dory watched him walking leisurely back to the house. People were simply toys to him—there for his amusement. By nature, he was callous, but callous enough to stab someone—that was on a whole deeper and darker layer of callousness. He was good at picking up on people's inner thoughts and emotions, but that made him observant rather than truly disregarding of other people's wellbeing. But then, it couldn't be said that he cared too much about offending anyone.
It had to be him, Dory said to herself. But it was impossible to see a motive. It certainly wouldn't be embarrassment, because he didn't care what people accused him of. That was not to say that blackmail wasn't a motive. Dory just wasn't sure Vivian would succumb. In fact, he would probably enjoy someone accusing him of something untoward—it fit with everyone's expectations of him. Would anyone really bat an eye if he were accused of sleeping with a servant girl? No, but the others would. Unfortunately, there was no evidence that Nora was seeing anyone but her boyfriend. In fact, sneaking around the house at night wouldn’t happen for long under Mrs. Parsons watchful eye.
Chapter 18
"I'm so bored," Livinia said, lying back on Lady Pettifer's bed. She was dressed in jodhpurs and brown riding boots. "There is absolutely nothing to do here, and Father isn't letting me go back to London. I am absolutely wilting."
"Nonsense," Lady Pettifer said. "A bit of fresh air will serve your complexion, my dear. Where is that beau of yours?"
"You mean Patrick?"
That needed clarification, Dory thought as she stood to the side, brushing dog hair off Lady Pettifer's coat. She had been visiting a friend and had come back looking like she'd slept in a kennel at some point.
"Oh, I don't know," Livinia lamented. "We've had a falling out. He's so dull, I can't tell you."
"Well, then, it's good to be away for a while, builds a bit of mystery. Men do like a mystery."
An exasperated growl escaped Livinia, who was now staring up at the ceiling. "You are so old-fashioned."
"Men don't change, my dear. Fashions might, but men don't. Did you see that girl, Nora Sands, when you were last home?"
"The maid that got murdered?" Livinia sat up. Lady Pettifer gave Dory a small, conspiratorial wink. "I suppose so. I don't quite recall. Who notices such things? Particularly her; she was quiet like a mouse, wasn't she?"
"So she never spoke about her boyfriend?" Lady Pettifer said.
"Or anyone else she was seeing?" Dory added.
"Not to me. You think some jilted lover killed her? Not Nora. I couldn't imagine anyone looking twice at her. If there was anyone sure to die a virgin, it was her. Then again, there are some desperate people around."
"What makes y
ou say that?" Dory asked.
"Who else are they going to turn to? The gardeners, for example. There aren't girls around for miles; they practically salivate whenever a girl is near." From what Dory had seen, that was an unjustified unkindness. Well, Larry was perhaps a little too keen for her to come to the movies with him.
"Did you see any of them speaking to Nora?" Lady Pettifer said.
"Why would I notice such things?" she said with a confused expression. "No, I never saw Nora speaking to the gardeners. Now, what is this blasted house party that we all have to be here for?" Livinia said. This was the first Dory had heard about a house party. It sounded like a mountain of work and no free time whatsoever, and Dory squashed the groan trying to escape her throat.
"Your mother has invited some of the notable parliamentarians around to try to help Cedric get himself more established. She expects you all to be on your best behavior."
"Stupid Cedric. Why do we all have to suffer because he's about to be buried in some dead-end committee? I don't see why he wanted to be a politician anyway. He couldn't charm a prostitute if his life depended on it."
"Livinia," Lady Pettifer said with exasperated disappointment. "We must all help, because it serves him and it serves the family. And it may well be that in the upcoming years, we all need to do our best to save the country."
Another groan escaped from Livinia and she flopped down on the bed again. "I am so tired of hearing about this bloody war that never seems to actually happen."
"Well, we are all praying that it doesn't," Lady Pettifer said, a sadness stealing into her voice. "There is nothing worse in the whole world than war."
Even Livinia picked up on her aunt's distress and rose from the bed, walking over to stroke Lady Pettifer along the shoulder. "I'm sure it won't come to that. To be safe, though. We should probably not push Cedric into politics, where cool minds are needed. He's annoying enough to send even the most sane person around the bend. Maybe they should send him over to deal with Hitler. He'll have that little imp crying into his sauerkraut."
Cheering up, Lady Pettifer chuckled. "You really are the sweetest person, Livinia, but I don't think we can leave you in charge of Cedric's advancement." Livinia rolled her eyes. "Or the country's," Lady Pettifer continued under her breath.
*
There was an anxious atmosphere that evening at supper. Livinia was still bored and stifled yawns throughout, Cedric was his usual reserved self, and Vivian was drunk—hardly to anyone’s surprise. Lady Pettifer decided not to join them and retreated to her room with a headache.
"I haven't a thing to wear," Livinia lamented when they left the dining room and retreated into the parlor. "And why is it so cold tonight? This blasted house never warms up. We cannot do without a fire."
Dory felt Mr. Holmes’ eyes on her and she turned from where she placed the large serving tray down to see that yes indeed, he was placing the task of lighting the fire with her. It was the middle of summer, but still, a fire was needed. It wasn't even cold, but then Livinia did insist on wearing those light chiffon dresses. Granted, it was a stunning dress in light green material, but it couldn't be more than wearing a cloud floating around her body.
"Wallis Simpson's wedding dress looks white in the photos, don't you think?" Livinia said to her mother as Dory walked in the room with a wood carrier to crouch down by the fireplace. "It was light blue, apparently. So stunning. No one can argue that she is the only one in that royal household with any sense of style. She would have made a fantastic queen. Married in Paris. It sounds so romantic." On this, Dory and Livinia were in complete agreement.
"If you call giving up your crown romantic," Cedric said with a snort.
"He is a singularly stupid man. If she cared at all about him, she would have kept the status quo and remained as his mistress," Lady Wallisford said. "Goes to show how ambitious that woman is. But it didn't work, did it? She gambled and now she's lost, stripped of royal title and all the royal privileges."
"She's still a duchess," Livinia said.
"Duchess of what? A lost throne? As much use as a toilet. Well, I hope she's happy. She just about ripped this country apart with her ambition."
"Not all the evils in the world are caused by Mrs. Simpson," Vivian said.
"We should have the means of getting rid of people like that. Coming over here and upsetting everything, refusing to understand their own position." Lady Wallisford was getting very passionate about her opinion.
"God help us all if we don't conform to our positions," Vivian said with a surprising amount of spite.
"If Edward was king, why couldn't he just tell them that he was marrying her and they should just suck it up."
"Because it was never about Wallis fucking Simpson," Vivian stated.
"Apologize this minute," Livinia demanded. "You're a disgusting cur and you have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
Also surprising was Livinia's degree of anger, thought Dory as she lit the kindling she had stacked around in a wooden triangle.
Lord Wallisford sat buried behind his evening paper and ignored the discussion around him.
"Both of you," Lady Wallisford said. "I won't forgive either of you if you behave like this when our guests come. You will be on your best behavior, or father will have to cut your weekly allowance."
"Of course, Mother," Vivian said, putting on his most charming voice. "We will all do our very best to fix the hash job Cedric has made of his career."
"Don't be tiresome, Vivian," Lady Wallisford said with exasperation. "It will be a very dull summer for you if you upset me in this. Your brother's career is important and you will do nothing to spoil it."
"Why? He's going to inherit the whole estate. It's not like he needs a career."
"As opposed to you," Livinia said sweetly. "You're the one who actually needs a career, or are you going to live under your brother's roof for the rest of your life?"
"Unfortunately, she is right, Vivian. You really need to turn your attention to your future. You'll either have a role in men's society or you’ll become an add-on in the women's."
Vivian rose and stepped over to the bar to pour himself another drink. Anger practically dripped off him. That was harsh, even in Dory's book. This family seemed always to be at each other's throats, ripping each other apart with insults. It was like nothing she had ever known. Her family supported her in everything, even when she made a complete mess of something. "Never mind, lamb," her mother would say. "It's a new day tomorrow."
"Are you too incompetent to light a fire?" Vivian said harshly, standing with his back to her.
"Yes, I am," she said, "but never mind, it's a new day tomorrow."
"Oik wisdom?" He turned to her and took a sip of his large whiskey, practically standing over her as she crouched by the fire.
Dory grit her teeth and smiled. "I am so glad I am missing my supper for this."
The viciousness on his face softened slightly. "Are you wondering why Mrs. Simpson would go anywhere near British refined society?"
"I'm actually paid to not wonder about anything when it comes to British refined society. It is a necessary quality for anyone having to deal with you." Grabbing the empty wood carrier, she left out of the small servants' doorway that led to the landing of the staircase heading downstairs. Right now, she didn't care about how vulgar and nasty the Fellingworths were to each other. Her supper was getting cold and that was more important to her than any of Vivian Fellingworth's insults. They would burn if she let them, so she refused to entertain them at all. He was nothing but a little boy fighting with his sister and backing down because his allowance was about to be cut. He could call her oik as much as he wanted. It really was understandable why people ripped into him. He seemed to goad everyone around him into viciousness. Or they all fed off each other. She didn't care which.
Chapter 19
Today it rained without stop. The skies were an endless blanket of gray and the air was cold and moist. Even being su
mmer, it had a chill, and a certain restlessness had descended over the house. Tempers and pleasantries were short and Dory didn't mind losing herself in some mundane work.
Both Cedric and Vivian were gone, seeking diversion and entertainment elsewhere. Dory wished she could be away from the house for a while as well. Working here, her life felt small. Seeing the same faces every day; never anything new. It was dull. Even Lady Pettifer found it dull.
Dory had been given the task of cleaning the water closet with its white tiles with grout that needed scrubbing, so she was down on her knees with a toothbrush, listening to the rhythmic patter of rain on the foggy window.
It wasn't just the weather that was a source of frustration. DI Ridley had been in the house, speaking to Mr. Holmes and she could sense his frustration from a distance. It wouldn't surprise her one bit if people were actively hampering his investigation by simple disinterest. Nora Sands was a part of this household. Didn't they care that something awful had happened to her?
She knew exactly what they would say. Of course they cared, but what could they do? It couldn't be that anyone here was responsible. But there had to be. There just didn't seem a way to getting to the truth. Everyone left it to the police to deal with, not seeing that they should have to play a role—or be inconvenienced by this.
As far as she knew, there had been no progress—not that DI Ridley kept her abreast of the developments, but the gossip around here tended to convey everything. Everyone was interested in the investigation—as long as it didn't include them.
With frustration, Dory dropped the toothbrush and sat back on her haunches. Her knees and back ached from scrubbing and she needed to stretch. It was work well done. She could clearly see where she had worked and where she hadn't. Finishing was going to take ages.