“That would be sensible, but I should speak to my own servants on the subject.”
He gave an embarrassed little laugh. “Well… perhaps, but if any of the male servants have been… erm, using the boat house for romantic assignations, shall we say, they will admit it the more readily to one of the male sex, do you not think?”
Annie blushed, and agreed to it, but she thought he seemed relieved by her acquiescence. His countenance was too open and his temper too honest for subterfuge, but all the same she had the uneasy feeling that he was keeping something from her. Or perhaps keeping her from asking questions. There might be an honourable reason for that… or there might not.
Before she could decide whether to question him more closely, Mrs Cumber came in.
“Beg pardon, madam, but there’s a carriage coming up the drive, with luggage. Are we expecting guests?”
“Not that I know of,” Annie said at once, jumping up and twisting her hands together anxiously. With a murderer loose and possibly wandering at will about the estate, she could not cope with any more surprises. “Who can it be? It is too late for morning callers, and we cannot possibly be expected to entertain when we are in mourning. I do not want to see anyone! It is far too soon. Can we send them away? But who would call at this hour? Why do they have luggage? Oh, it is too bad!”
“It is a mystery, is it not?” Adam said, with a wide smile that instantly dissolved Annie’s worries. “But you need not receive them if you do not wish. Let us go to the hall where we may peep out at our visitors from behind the curtains, and you may decide what to do about them.”
This was such a sensible idea that Annie was ashamed of her overwrought reaction. She followed Adam out into the hall, and he helped her to stand on a wooden settle so that she could peer out of the high window. The carriage, drawn by two rather exhausted horses, drew to a halt, but still she did not recognise it, and there was no coat of arms on the door. Nor was the coachman familiar to her, and there were no postilions or footmen to give a hint.
But then the door opened, and a man descended.
“Uncle Tom?” she said wonderingly. “But what on earth—?” He offered his hand to help a lady descend. “Aunt Hester!” Annie squeaked. Another hand, another lady…
“Mama! Mama! Oh, Mama!”
Annie leapt down from the settle and raced to the door just as Mrs Cumber opened it. Through the door and down the steps she flew, hurling herself into her mother’s waiting arms, where she promptly burst into noisy sobs.
“There now, dear one, there now,” her mother whispered, her own tears mingling with Annie’s. “Mama is here now, and all will be well, just you see. Hush now… hush…”
But she could not. Annie cried and cried, as she had not since the moment she had learnt of Rupert’s death. Not one tear had she shed, until this moment. If she had been asked if there was one thing in the world that would bring her comfort, she would have said there was nothing. Now she knew what that one thing was.
A voice at her elbow murmured, “Well now, Cousin Annie, shall they stay, do you think, or shall I send them on their way? What do you say?”
Annie was sobbing too much to make an answer, but Adam expected none, for shortly after she heard him telling Mrs Cumber to prepare two bedrooms, and to lay another three places for dinner. She cried as if she would never stop, but her mother held her and rocked her gently and whispered soothing words into her ear, with the incomparable comfort that only a mother can bring.
She was alone no longer.
13: A Matter Of Servants
Annie could hardly believe the difference in the atmosphere at dinner with her mother, aunt and uncle present. When her husband had been alive, he had dominated the conversation, and Annie’s own few remarks were either turned aside or initiated an educational monologue. Since his death, it had been Judith and Adam who had talked between them, and again Annie had contributed little. But now, for the first time, she was the focus of the dinner table. With feminine intuition, her mother and aunt had deduced, within five minutes of their arrival, that Annie was in a delicate condition, so their tears and alarm were instantly replaced by happy chatter about nurseries and the proper regime for exercise and how to deal with nausea. No one talked about murder. She had not mentioned the subject when she wrote to her mother, so perhaps they were still in ignorance of the circumstances of her husband’s death. Well, they would find out soon enough.
Afterwards, while the men sat over their port, nothing would do for her mother and aunt but to meet Judith’s daughters and sigh over them with sentimental fervour. Aunt Hester’s maternal longings had not been assuaged even by five children, and Annie, an only child, had never fulfilled her mother’s yearnings for a large brood, so they settled down contentedly to tell stories to the two eldest, who were wide awake with the excitement of visitors.
Annie crept away after a while, finding Adam alone in the peacock chamber. He looked up as she entered with his familiar warm smile.
“How do you like your unexpected visitors, Cousin Annie? Do you think the loss of my housekeeper and manservant for a few days was worth the sacrifice?”
“You must know my opinion of that, Cousin,” Annie said, smiling. “I was never so glad to see anyone in my life. But what made you think of it? I am sure nothing was said on my part which suggested sending your own carriage and servants to fetch them.”
“You said that you would like to see them again, did you not? You talked of going to Guildford on a visit, and it seemed to me that their company would be a help to you. Judith was so lost after Herbert’s death in February, even though she had been here for years and has many friends in the neighbourhood. For you, newly married and adrift from everything familiar, it must have been much worse. You are so composed, so outwardly serene, yet inside you must have been quite at sea. I could do nothing to help Judith, for she has no relatives living, but for you something could be done and your mother was the obvious answer. I would not have her travel on the public stage, so the solution was obvious. I sent Mrs Turville to bear her company, but my precaution was unnecessary, since your aunt and uncle came too.”
“I do not know how Uncle Tom managed to leave the shop,” Annie said.
“There are other apothecaries in Guildford,” Adam said airily. “A few days away will not hurt his business beyond repair, and my carriage is at his disposal whenever he wishes to return.”
“You are too good!” Annie cried. “How can I ever thank you sufficiently? It is impossible to repay such kindness.”
“Your pleasure in your mother’s company, and hers in yours, is all the thanks I require,” he said. For a moment, there was an intensity in his eyes that took Annie aback. But just as swiftly it was gone, leaving her uncertain that she had seen anything at all, and he became his usual joking self. “But if you are determined to repay me in some measure, perhaps I will inflict my rumbustious brothers upon you. Now that my carriage is back, I have no excuse to leave them at Cecelia’s for a day longer. They will be here tomorrow, and how I am to keep them out of trouble, I cannot imagine.”
“Are they so very difficult?” Annie said, laughing. “But I shall be very happy to have your brothers inflicted upon me, troublesome or otherwise.”
The rest of the party came into the room just then, murmuring together, their faces anxious, and the conversation turned in a different direction, one less pleasant to Annie’s ears.
“Well, Annie, I now learn that your husband was murdered,” Uncle Tom said without preamble. “Shot through the heart twice, and the villain not caught yet. A shocking business. I understand that you would not have wished to worry your mother and aunt on the matter, but you should have told me, you know. I should have come at once.”
“There was nothing anyone could do, uncle,” she said. “Sir Leonard Fairbrother is the magistrate, and he is investigating… asking questions and so forth. He will get to the bottom of it.”
“But you here all alone, and a murderer on
the loose! It does not bear thinking about.”
“No indeed!” her mother said, white-faced. “Too shocking for words! Quite dreadful, and so humiliating. We have never had such a thing in the family before, never. Should you like to come home with us, dear one?”
“Of course she must,” her aunt said. “It is not safe here.”
Annie had longed to see her family again, but the prospect of returning to Guildford was unappealing. If she once returned there, would she ever find the strength to leave again? She was so taken aback at the very idea that she answered more sharply than usual. “Nonsense! How craven that would be, to run away at the first hint of trouble. This is my home, and whatever the reason for Mr Huntly’s death, it had nothing to do with me.” And perhaps if she spoke with sufficient conviction, she could make herself believe it was true.
“How can you be sure of that?” her uncle said. “Not a stranger, Mr Huntly told me. Not a robbery. Someone your husband knew. Someone who lives nearby. It must be some local quarrel, someone seeking vengeance against you both.”
“Mr Huntly and I have not been here long enough to make enemies,” Annie said with some heat. “Believe me, uncle, Sir Leonard knows far more of the matter than you do, and he has not suggested that there is any risk to me.” She did not mention the reason for that — that he suspected Annie herself of some complicity in her husband’s death. “I beg you not to speculate. It is the greatest comfort to me to have you all here, but pray do not allow needless conjecture to spoil your stay.”
Aunt Hester threw her arms around Annie and burst into noisy sobs. “So brave!” she said repeatedly. “So stout-hearted! So brave.”
Her uncle harrumphed uncomfortably. “I am only thinking of your safety, niece, and… and especially so in your present condition. One cannot be too careful.”
“I know it, sir, but there is no cause for sudden starts. I shall stay here, at least until my confinement, unless Sir Leonard discovers some element of risk in such a plan.”
“But you have no man in the house to protect you.”
“Cousin Adam lives very close by, and there are manservants.”
“But—” her uncle began again, but Annie’s mother put a calming hand on his arm.
“Annie is very sensible, Tom, and must be the best judge of what is right for her, especially after such a shock and in her delicate condition. Staying quietly in her own home will do her a world of good, more so than jouncing about the roads and being inundated with curious callers at Castle Street. You know what people are like, with such a shocking end to poor Mr Huntly’s life! Once it becomes common knowledge, everyone will want to see her, and she will have no peace. Besides, she cannot go about in public just yet, so she would be confined to the house in Guildford. Here she has a whole estate to enjoy — beautiful surroundings, fresh food and good, clean air. What could be better for her?”
“It does not seem right to me to leave her here alone—” He looked at Adam and Judith, and went on, “—almost alone, and no gentleman living in the house. Yet I cannot stay above two or three days, and—”
“Of course you cannot,” her mother said in her gentle way. “You and Hester must return to Guildford, as we agreed. But I may stay on a little while, may I not? A week or two, or perhaps a little longer, although only if Annie wishes it. I hope I know better than to outstay my welcome! But I feel sure there will be a thousand little tasks I may undertake to make her life easier just now. A little eye on the servants, you know. A hint here and there to the cook. A stitch or two in that fine tapestry of the peacocks. So many ways I can be of service to Annie. Only for a week or two, Tom, or three at most. You will not miss me for so short a time.”
“You will be very much missed for even a day, Mary, as you know perfectly well, but I will not object, not if Annie wishes it.”
Annie readily agreed to it, but her smiles of pleasure hid a deep thread of amusement. Her mother had always regretted the loss of her spacious vicarage, and their move to more cramped accommodation with Uncle Tom and Aunt Hester. Now for a little while she had an opportunity to be a lady again, to live in some grandeur. Mr Huntly had not wanted her at Willow Place, but he was dead and it was for Annie to order her life as she chose. She chose to have her mother in it, for a week or two. Or three at most. Or as long as she wanted… and why not?
~~~~~
None of the visitors were at all used to a life of idleness, so they were up early to set to work. They discovered that Judith and her daughters were to move into new rooms, but the servants had as yet been too distracted to prepare them. This was a project ideally suited to two ladies with a strong dislike of dust and dirt, so Annie’s mother and Aunt Hester found aprons, brooms, feather dusters and jars of beeswax, and set about the rooms with vigour. Hangings were taken down to be cleaned, rugs lifted to be beaten and every inch of window and wall and floor and furniture was scoured or dusted or polished, as appropriate. Uncle Tom, meanwhile, set out on a tour of the gardens.
By the time they all sat down to breakfast, the house already felt as if it had been woken from a deep slumber. The very air seemed brighter, and even the servants walked with an extra spring in their step. Or perhaps it was Annie who was more contented to find herself surrounded once more by the gentle, undemanding love of her family.
“This is a fine house, Annie,” Uncle Tom said, between mouthfuls of ham. “The kitchen garden is excellent, and your medicinal corner is establishing well. The gardener showed me all around. An efficient fellow, and a fine, sturdy young under-gardener. They impressed me greatly. You will not mind if I take some mulberry leaves? It is so hard to get fresh. I am not so sure about your coachman, however. He seems very young and unsure of himself. The previous man has retired, I understand?”
“Yes. Mr Huntly wished it. He considered him too old, although there was not much wrong with him apart from a persistent dry cough, which I was treating with bryony root. Do you think I should reinstate him?”
“Annie will not wish to countermand her husband’s orders,” her mother said, in her gentle way, tears brimming. “That would be shocking indeed.”
“She must manage the household in her own way, Mary,” her uncle said. “Her husband is no longer in need of her wifely obedience. I wonder, too, why you and Hester are obliged to clean rooms.”
“Oh, but we enjoy it,” Aunt Hester said at once. “It is a welcome distraction from… from thoughts of… Annie’s great tragedy.” She reached for a handkerchief and began dabbing at her eyes.
“Yes, yes, but that is hardly the point,” he said testily. “With the income Mr Huntly could call upon, there should not be so much as a pane of glass in need of washing anywhere in the house. The servants you have are good, hard-working types, Annie, your cook is excellent and your husband’s valet is looking after me admirably, but there should be enough servants to manage the work.”
Annie did not like to admit that her husband had dismissed one of the housemaids, too, so she said only, “I shall speak to Mrs Cumber about it.”
She had already seen Mrs Cumber at eight o’clock to order the dinner, but, not wanting to delay and knowing that the housekeeper would be in the servants’ quarters at that hour, she ventured down the service corridor. Annie had not been in that part of the house since the day Mr Huntly had caught her bottling gooseberries, and perhaps he was right that the mistress should keep to her own quarters, but she was not so grand as to summon Mrs Cumber all that way for one quick question.
Several surprised faces turned towards her as she entered the kitchen. They all dropped into neat curtsies.
“Pray continue your work. Mrs Cumber, if I might have a word…”
The housekeeper led the way to her own room, which was small but comfortably furnished.
“Oh, this is very cosy!” Annie said involuntarily. “Do you have everything here that you need? You do not hesitate to have a fire in the cooler weather?”
Mrs Cumber looked startled, and then pleased. “Ho
w kind of you to ask, but I have every comfort I could wish for.”
“That is excellent. You may always ask if there is anything you, or the other servants, lack. Now tell me, if you please, of Billy. My uncle has some concerns about his lack of experience. Should we ask Palcock to return, do you think?”
“Oh madam, everybody would be so relieved! He was that upset to be turned off, and Billy… well, he can drive the carriage well enough ordinarily, but he doesn’t have Mr Palcock’s way with the horses, or his experience of getting out of tricky situations and through bad weather.”
“Then let it be so. Have you had any success in finding a new housemaid?”
Mrs Cumber’s face was rueful. “It’s difficult, after a murder in the house. I’ve been offered a girl, but she’s no more than thirteen or so, and I’d have to train her up. Madam… I didn’t like to suggest it before, not liking to go against the master’s wishes, but what would you say to calling Barbara back? She’s not found another place yet, and she could be here tomorrow.”
Annie did not hesitate. Her uncle was right, it was for her to order the household as she chose. Mr Huntly was no longer here, and she had not always agreed with his decisions anyway. “Excellent,” she said firmly. “I shall leave you to arrange it.”
She turned to the door, but Mrs Cumber said hastily, “Oh, madam, if you’re minded to consider it, there is also Mr Sheffield…”
“The valet? He may stay here until he has a new place, as we agreed.”
“Oh yes, and he’s very grateful, but what he would really like— We wondered—” She stopped, hand to mouth. “Forgive me, it’s presumptuous of me.”
The Apothecary (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 3) Page 13