by C. G Oster
A quick knock on the door drew her attention. Someone must want to use the lavatory. "Just a minute," she said and gathered up her brushes and the tub of grout cleaner.
The door opened. "Dory, Lady Wallisford has asked to see you," Clara said.
"What?" Dory said with surprise. This couldn't be good.
"She's in the parlor having afternoon tea. What have you done?"
"I didn't do anything," Dory said impotently. The look in Clara's eyes said she was unconvinced. Dory should have known Mrs. Parsons would not have been the end of it. Maybe now she was going to be fired and by the end of the day would be dragging her suitcase out into the rain as they threw her out. Maybe Larry would be merciful and drive her to the train station. Did she have enough money for the fare? She tried to remember how much she’d spent.
Dory sighed and made her way out of the water closet, putting her cleaning materials away in the nearest closet. A smudge marred her apron and she wondered if she should run upstairs and change it. Adding that little bit of extra proof that this job was beyond her hurt her pride, so she ran as fast as she could. If she was going to be fired, she wanted to look presentable—not as if their decision was entirely justified.
A clean apron tied around her waist, she made her way to the parlor behind a large, white door. She knocked carefully, almost imperceptibly. Mrs. Parsons opened, looking stern and disapproving. Dory should have known she would dob her in, the traitor. But then, Mrs. Parsons would never take her side over the lady of the house—no matter what.
Lady Wallisford was sitting on a sofa, with Livinia on the other and Lady Pettifer in a chair. A tea service had been placed in front of them and half-drunk cups of tea sat unattended.
What hurt most was that Lady Pettifer was there. Dory had believed they had reached an understanding, a friendship even—hence, Dory had been less reserved than it turns out she should have been. Perhaps there was no trusting these people.
"Miss Sparks," Lady Wallisford said, her neck tall and regal, managing to look down her nose at Dory from a sitting position. That was quite a feat, Dory had to admit. "There have been some disturbing noises about you and I thought we would take this opportunity to clear things up."
Dory looked over at Mrs. Parsons, whose hands were clasped together. She wasn't looking Dory in the eyes. Then she looked at Lady Pettifer, who looked slightly confused, listening intently. Maybe she wasn't a part of this and didn't know what was about to be said. Dory hoped so, even if it served her no good whatsoever. It would gladden her to know her judgment of Lady Pettifer's character hadn't been completely off—or that you categorically couldn't trust people in her position. It would hurt to know that station went against things like confidence and trust.
"I understand," Lady Wallisford continued, "that you have been interrogating all and sundry about the unfortunate events prior. As you can imagine, we wish to live here in peace and tranquility, and not be accosted by staff interrogating for their own amusement."
Lady Wallisford looked at her expectantly and Dory burned with embarrassment, and also offense for Nora. "I was just trying to understand Nora Sands better." Dory was mumbling, her cheeks burning red.
"Do you fancy yourself a detective, do you? Is it a role you feel you can fulfill better than the police?" Lady Wallisford chuckled. "Did she not question you, Livinia?"
"Yes, she did," Livinia stated, casting a glance over to Dory.
"And you, Constance?" she said, turning to Lady Pettifer.
Lady Pettifer blinked repeatedly. "Well, naturally we have spoken about it at length."
Raising her eyebrows further, Lady Wallisford looked as if her point had been reinforced.
"I had, of course, asked her to make some inquiries," Lady Pettifer continued. "How else are we going to find out who killed that poor girl. Dory, here, was acting on my mandate."
Thunderclouds broke through Lady Wallisford's expression. "That is hardly her place. And it is hardly your responsibility. It is the police's. We can't be running around second guessing their activities."
"We're not second-guessing, Honoria. No one is giving that poor detective the time of day. How is he supposed to solve this crime if no one is answering his questions?"
"Who isn't answering his questions? We've answered every question he's put to us. I would thank you not to use my servants to play silly games."
An uncomfortable silence settled between the ladies, like two bulls in a paddock eyeing each other up.
Technically, Lady Pettifer hadn't asked her to question people, but Dory was elated that she hadn't been wrong to trust the woman, that they had reached a common ground on which a sort of friendship had been achieved. And that the woman had her back when things got sticky. It was quite something.
"I can't have her running around interrogating people. It's unseemly."
"To whom?"
"She's a servant, and not a terribly good one at that. I have to let her go," Lady Wallisford said. Livinia was examining her nails, completely uninterested.
"Then I will retain her." Charged silence settled. "She does an admirable job for me and if I ask her to do some inquiries, she does an admirable job at that as well."
"Sometimes I wonder if you have completely lost your marbles," Lady Wallisford griped dismissively and Dory could see Lady Pettifer bristle with offense. "Aldus always thought you pottering around that big house in France would test your faculties."
"I assure you, Honoria, dear, my faculties are perfectly fine," Lady Pettifer said tightly, her voice sharp and crisp. "Dory, why don't you go see to my evening dress. It might need an airing."
"Yes, my lady," Dory said with a curtsy, not daring to look up.
Mrs. Parsons opened the door and Dory walked out. So, she'd just lost one job and gained another as Lady Pettifer's maid. If this was a real job, she didn't know, but it sure saved her pride if nothing else.
Closing the door, Mrs. Parsons looked at her sharply. Dory didn't report to her anymore. "I suppose you will be staying with us for however long Lady Pettifer does, or how long she determines you suitable." There was a nasty edge to her voice. Obviously, Mrs. Parsons had wanted her fired as well, had probably expected to send her packing. For all Dory knew, her belongings might already be packed upstairs.
"I only managed to clean part of the bathroom grout," Dory said with her head held high. That was no longer her job and Mrs. Parsons would have to find someone else to finish it. Dory no longer took orders from Mrs. Parsons. As Lady Pettifer's ladies' maid, none of those household chores were hers anymore. Her concern was now exclusively Lady Pettifer.
Chapter 20
Becoming Lady Pettifer’s maid meant a vast decrease in Dory’s workload. All she had to do now was take care of Lady Pettifer and her things, but when she’d seen to those things, there wasn't much for her to do.
She had learned not to spend that free time down in the servants’ area, as her idle hours built resentments with everyone else. Their disapproval was quite clear; they didn't approve of her switching her alliances to Lady Pettifer, even though she had no choice in the matter. Mrs. Parsons was particularly cold, refusing to say anything to Dory. She was now treated as a guest, a visiting servant. She was given her meals and the use of the amenities of the house, but she was no longer part of the household.
Clara and Mavis were not quite as cold, but they were much more guarded around her now than they used to be, taking their cues from Mrs. Parsons and Mr. Holmes. Gladys was still kind, of course, but she was also aware of what had happened. Family ties were not as easy to put aside. She tried to console Dory, not that Dory needed consoling as she was quite happy in her new role. Although how long it would last, she wasn’t sure.
While she had served as Lady Pettiford’s maid since her arrival, the woman hadn't intended on taking on a maid. Dory didn't know if she could actually afford to do so, or whether this was just an act of pride, countermanding Lady Wallisford, who had so insulted Lady Pettifer the previous day
.
“No matter,” Gladys said, kneading dough on the large, wooden workbench. “Obviously, Lady Pettiford will only be here for a few short months. When she goes, you likely have to find a new job somewhere else.”
“I realize this,” Dory said.
“The upside, I suppose, is that Lady Pettifer seems to like you, so there's a good chance you'll get a reference. Without a reference, you will never get another job.”
Dory wasn't sure she could mention to her aunt that she wasn't sure domestic service was for her. She didn't love working here; she found it droll. Then again, working in an office hadn't worked out that well for her, either. The reference hadn't been particularly good; the one Lady Pettiford would give her would probably be better. Still, Dory wasn't sure that this lifestyle was for her. Not that she felt comfortable telling Gladys this, who had spent all her life in domestic service and seemed quite comfortable in a house like this.
“It will all work out,” Gladys said, trying to be reassuring. “You have a few months to think about it, before you have to act. Try not to think about it now. Summer is here and for the next few months, you seem to have it easy.” Gladys patted her hand, leaving an impression of flour.
Dory would agree, if it wasn't for how uncomfortable she felt around the others. She was not quite appreciated the way she had been, although saying that, she hadn't really been all that appreciated before either. Her curiosity had gotten her into strife again, which it always seemed to do.
“Take a bun,” Gladys said, pushing the baking basket over to Dory and she gratefully took one of the Chelsea buns that were still warm to the touch.
“Thank you, Aunt,” she said with a smile. “You're the best.” With a smile, Dory left her to find something to occupy herself. She’d tried to offer her services to help, but Gladys wouldn't have it. There was pride in such things, Dory had learned. Suggestions she wasn't coping were a profound insult, even though Dory had simply been trying to help.
She walked out into the sunshine, intent on getting some fresh air. There are still puddles of water around, but the sun had returned. A nicely warm breeze floated across the land, shivering the trees in the distance. The leaves sang whenever the wind picked up.
The bun was sweet and sticky and Dory enjoyed it immensely. As she wandered away from the house to the farm outbuildings, she came across George polishing a car. Being warm, he’d taken his jacket off and was working in his shirtsleeves.
“Dory,” he said with a nod, acknowledging her. She cleared the last of the sticky bun off her fingers and wiped them on her dress.
“Hello, George. Lovely weather we have today.”
“Yes,” he replied. “I hear there have been some developments at the house concerning you.”
“It seems I have shifted allegiances and am now lady Pettifer’s maid.”
“So I heard.” He was polishing something metal in his hand with a rag. “Does this mean that you follow her back to France?”
“I shouldn't think so,” Dory said. She hadn't even thought about it. Would Lady Pettifer take her back to France? Wouldn't that be something? She had never left England, so going all the way to France would be an adventure beyond anything she'd actually contemplated.
“I understand that Lady Pettifer has the maids she needs in France already.”
George nodded, still busy polishing whatever he was holding in his hand. Dory didn't know cars all that well and had no idea what part he held in his hand. “Funny thing,” he said. “After we spoke last time, I thought about when I saw Nora Sands last. It took some thinking, but I believe I saw her last up on the Common Road.”
“The Common Road? Is that close by?”
“It’s not too far away, but is a strange place for her to be. I thought so at the time. It doesn't lead to anything in particular and she was on her bicycle. I didn't see her again after that. Obviously, she did return at some point. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything, but that was the last time I saw her.”
“You have no idea what she would be doing on the Common Road?”
George shrugged. “None whatsoever. Like I said, doesn't lead anywhere in particular, at least nowhere close enough she should bicycle to. Maybe she just wanted some exercise.”
“Was she known for taking exercise, for taking the bicycle out?”
“She would take it to the village on occasion,” he said, smiling as he started rubbing the bonnet of the car again. The olive green of the machine gleamed, as did all the chrome surrounding it. It was a beautiful machine, even she knew that.
Giving George a wave, she kept on walking over to the copse of trees across the parkland at the west side of the house. She’d never heard anything of Nora going for a bicycle ride shortly before her death. Where would she be going? What was she doing out on the Common Road? It certainly wasn't on the way to Quainton, or to Aylesbury. What was she doing there? No one had mentioned this before.
Obviously, she wasn't murdered out there, because she had been seen afterward by other people. Was she meeting someone? Was that person responsible for what happened to her later? There were still unknown aspects of Nora's life, and what she was doing. DI Ridley had never mentioned any of this, and Dory didn't know if he even knew George had seen her there.
Dory felt in her gut that this was important. Any way you cut it, it was unusual behavior. Nora must have been doing something, something away from the house. This could actually be very relevant. In fact, she needed to tell DI Ridley about this. Perhaps she should go upstairs and talk to Lady Pettifer about it.
Maybe she could send a note, but a part of her almost wanted to tell him in person. He was a curious man and Dory's curiosity about him had only grown. She hadn't seen him around the house for a few days, and now she was wondering what he was off doing—if he had learnt anything interesting.
What she knew for sure, though, was that she needed to tell him about this, about what she’d just heard. It had to be important.
Chapter 21
Again, Dory found herself cycling to Quainton. Having talked over what she'd learnt with Lady Pettifer, they both agreed that there was something queer about Nora Sands being out on the Common Road, which incidentally wasn't actually named the Common Road, but that was what everyone around here called it. Way back, apparently it had been called the Common Road when it was used commonly to herd cattle southwards, or so Lady Pettifer had told her—a fact Dory didn't feel she actually needed.
Lady Pettifer did sometimes explain obscure facts and details about the house and surrounding district. Dory had gotten used to receiving such inconsequential details; it was part of being Lady Pettifer's maid.
Most of the water from the recent rains had drained away and the puddles along the gravel road were all dry, leaving pockmarks along the stretch of the road. Technically, Dory was on another of her sherbet gathering missions, if anyone asked. Both Dory and Lady Pettifer's interest in this investigation had become a contentious topic in the house, not that Lady Pettifer was about to be swayed from her curiosity, or perceived duty to do all she could. Dory admired that about her.
Unfortunately, DI Ridley was nowhere to be seen, nor was he in the small constabulary office, or the pub. Dory ended up sitting on one of the stone walls with a pocket full of sherbets, not knowing what to do. Eventually, a dark blue car came driving down the street and parked in front of the constabulary. She could see it was him through the car window and he glanced at her without any further acknowledgment.
"Am I right in assuming you are waiting for me?" he said when he got out and closed the door.
"I suppose I am," she said, jumping off the wall. "I heard something interesting that I thought you should perhaps know about—we thought you should know about," she corrected herself.
"Who is we?"
"Myself and Lady Pettifer." Dory thought it best not to mention that she had actually been fired for asking too many questions, as he had only told her to observe. Well, she had done a little more and had lea
rned about Nora being somewhere no one could explain because of it.
"Well, you'd better come to the pub, then," he said, already walking in that direction. Dory followed him into the rather deserted pub where only a few elderly patrons sat. It was a little past the lunchtime rush. "A pint," he said to the barman, before turning to her. "What can I get you?"
"Just a lemon barley for me," Dory said with a smile, wondering what the barman thought this meeting was. It wasn't the first time she was seen in the pub with DI Ridley. Could be the man presumed there was more than a strictly professional relationship between them. That couldn't be further from the truth. All the same, it made her blush. She couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be asked to the pub by someone like him for any such reasons.
Dory stepped back as he paid for the drinks and carried them over to a small table at the far end of the pub. That only made it seem more like a secret assignation, but she understood that privacy was an important issue for someone like him.
"So what is it you came all this way to tell me? You could have phoned."
"Lady Pettifer wanted some sherbets and the phones are heavily monitored at the Hall."
"Is that a problem?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, it is if someone really doesn't want Nora's killer to be discovered."
"What makes you say that?" It was he that was interrogating her now. His eyes were piercing, as if he watched every expression she made. It was quite disconcerting.
Dory didn't really want to get into the whole kafuffle about the accusations against her for playing detective. "It is only logical, isn't it?" She couldn't manage to look him in the eye. He would see the lie—she was sure of it. "Anyway, I was speaking to George Henry, Lord Wallisford's chauffeur, and he mentioned that the last time he'd seen Nora Sands, she was bicycling out on the Common Road. He thought it was queer because there was no reason she should be there, and it leads to nowhere she would particularly want to go."