The Affair of the Bloodstained Egg Cosy

by James Anderson

  Jane started down the slope. Another ten minutes' brisk walking and she came to the higher wall which flanked the park. Somewhere the other side of the wall she could hear the sound of a car engine, getting closer. It was noisier than the Rolls, and Jane wondered if it was Gerry in the Hispano-Suiza. She followed the wall until she came to a small door. She stopped, opened her bag, and took from it an old key. This had been given to her by Lord Burford many years previously - an act considered a special mark of esteem - and had been treasured by Jane ever since. She opened the door, passed through, and locked it after her. As she did so, she realised the sound of the car engine had stopped. Just in front of her stood a row of trees, flanking the drive. Jane passed between two of them - and was instantly splattered from head to foot by a thick spray of cold, dirty water.

  She stood gasping, rubbing the water from her eyes. She heard a squeal of brakes, got her vision cleared, and looked up to see a bright red two-seater open car, which had pulled up a few yards along the drive, facing the house. The young man in the driving seat was looking back over his shoulder, an expression of dismay on his face. He hurriedly put the car into reverse and backed down the drive until he was level with her. In spite of herself, Jane could not help noticing that he had blue eyes and very brown skin.

  'I say, I'm most terribly sorry,' he said, in a pleasant voice. 'I didn't see you until it was too late. Are you in a frightful mess?' He broke off. 'Oh dear, you are, aren't you?'

  For five seconds Jane was speechless. Then she let fly. 'You blithering idiot! Do you always dash along private drives at ninety miles an hour in complete silence?'

  'Well, no. Actually, I was only doing about thirty. And it was so beautifully peaceful I just switched off the engine to coast a little way and enjoy the quietness.'

  'Not caring two hoots that you might knock down some poor footbound pheasant—'

  'Footbound pheasant? Is there one of those around here? How very sad. What's the trouble? Rheumatism of the wings?'

  Jane breathed deeply and clenched her fists at her sides. 'I meant peasant,' she hissed. 'You didn't care what footbound peasant you knocked down.'

  'Oh, I assure you there was never any danger of that. I could have stopped very quickly if anybody'd stepped out. I mean, I didn't hit you—'

  'Thanks for that, anyway.'

  'Everything would have been all right but for an unfortunate combination of circumstances. There's a hollow in the road just here, you see, and it's right in the shadow. Also it was full of water. It must have been left from the heavy rain this morning—'

  'I didn't think it had been left from last January's snow!'

  'I'm trying to say that I'm not really all to blame. I was simply cruising quietly along. I couldn't see the hollow or the water or you. And you know, you did step straight onto the drive without pausing.'

  'Oh, that's right. Motor like a lunatic, half-drown me, and then blame me.'

  'I was not motoring like a lunatic and I am not blaming you. I'm merely exonerating myself. It was an accident.' He was starting to sound cross.

  'I sincerely hope it was an accident! Because if I thought you did it on purpose—'

  'Oh, don't be such an idiot.' He swallowed and apparently with something of an effort, said quietly: 'Are you going up to the house? If so, can I give you a lift?'

  'No thank you. I think I'll be safer if I stay a considerable distance from you.'

  'Just as you wish.' He slammed the car into gear, accelerated, and let in the clutch - just a little too rapidly.

  Now, while they had been talking, the water from the puddle, having spread itself over a larger area when the car first passed through it, had been soaking into the surface of the drive around the rear wheels. The result could have been anticipated: as the wheels spun fiercely Jane was comprehensively sprayed by a fine cloud of muddy specks.

  The young man looked round, realised what he had done, made as if to stop again, seemed to think better of it, and roared away.

  Jane stood quite still. The only word she managed to get out was a long drawn Out 'O-oh.' Then she started to march up the drive, muttering imprecations against all motorists. After a few minutes, however, her anger gave way to misery, and she found herself blinking back tears. Absurd to get so upset. And she'd made a bit of a fool of herself, too, by flying out at him like that. But she hadn't been able to help it. She was going to arrive at Alderley looking like a drowned rat. Moreover, her feet and legs had taken the worst of the deluge, and in her traps, now presumably at the house, reposed the only other pair of silk stockings she possessed in the world. She would have to change into them as soon as she arrived; and if they should ladder before she had a chance to get the ones she was now wearing washed and dried, she would have to borrow a pair from Gerry. Humiliating.

  Before Jane got in sight of the house she stopped, cleaned her face as best she could with her handkerchief, applied some powder and lipstick, and ran a comb through her hair. Having done this, she felt a little better. But not a lot.

  When she approached the house she was tempted to avoid the front and to enter by a rear door. But this would entail a long march, round the stables and orangery and through the kitchen garden - and then she would have to find a servant to notify her hosts of her arrival. So she strode up the shallow steps, past the huge Doric columns, to the great front doors, and rang the bell.

  The door was opened almost immediately by the pontifical Merryweather. 'Good afternoon, miss.'

  'Hullo, Merryweather,' Jane said, going into the big, oak-panelled hall. 'How are you?'

  'I am in my usual excellent health, thank you, miss. May I take the liberty of enquiring after your own?'

  'Oh, I'm pretty fit, but as you can see wet and dirty. I had a contretemps with a - a—' Jane gulped, 'a gentleman in a red tourer.'

  'Yes, miss. Mr. Deveraux explained there had been a slight accident.'

  'Oh dear,' Jane said. 'Tell me, Merryweather - is he a guest here?'

  'Yes, miss.'

  'Crumbs. I hoped he was just calling about the drains or something. Do you know if he's a great friend of the family?'

  'I believe not, miss. He is here professionally rather than socially. I understand he is writing a book on the stately homes of England and is considering including Alderley in it.'

  'I see. That's something, anyway. I'd like to go straight up to my room now.'

  'Certainly, miss. If you will just follow me.'

  'Is it my old room?'

  'Yes, miss.'

  'Then don't bother to take me. I know my way. Have my traps been taken up?'

  'Yes, miss. You should find Marie unpacking.'

  'Fine. Tell Lady Geraldine I've arrived, will you, Merryweather ?'

  'Certainly, miss.'

  'Thank you.' Jane made her way up the grand staircase. At the top she turned right along the main corridor, and at the end left into the east wing. She opened the second door on the left and went in. This was a small but pleasant room, overlooking the courtyard. Gerry's maid, Marie, a pretty, dark girl, had just completed the not very arduous task of unpacking. She gave a shriek of horror upon seeing Jane.

  'Mille tonnerres, mademoiselle! What 'ave they done to you?'

  'Not they, Marie. One man in one car.'

  She took off her tweed coat and skirt and gave it to Marie for sponging and pressing. Then she removed her precious stockings and handed them to her too, with a request to have them laundered with the greatest possible care. After Marie had left, Jane washed her face and hands, and gingerly put on her other stockings. This operation completed without mishap, she was just struggling into her dress, when Gerry burst in.

  By the time she had given an account of her misadventure with Deveraux, Jane felt more cheerful. Gerry proved a most satisfactorily sympathetic audience, exhibiting just the right amount of indignation on Jane's behalf. When they'd talked the subject out, she said: 'Now, tell me: have you got a job yet?'

  Jane shook her head.
/>   'Good. Then you can stay as long as you like.'

  'I wish I could, but honestly I must get fixed up soon.'

  'Jane, darling, can't you marry money?'

  'Lead me to it.'

  'Perhaps I have. Perhaps there's somebody here. Pity you got off on the wrong foot with Giles Deveraux. He's not exactly good looking, but he's rather attractive. And I should imagine he's pretty well-heeled. His car looks expensive.'

  'Probably stolen.'

  'Then how about one of our mittel Europeans? I don't know anything about them financially, but these continental diplomats usually come from ancient aristocratic families.'

  'Somehow the idea of being married to an ancient European diplomat doesn't really appeal to me.'

  'No, honestly, they're not at all bad. I was very agreeably surprised. I was expecting terribly stiff and formal old buffers with thick accents and monocles and little imperials, bowing and kissing my hand all over the place. But actually they're both quite young. They speak very good English - in fact one of them could be an American. The secondary one - Felman, I think - is a bit quiet, but the chief one, Adler, has really got a lot of charm - and SA.'

  'Sorry, darling, but I'm not keen. What about this oil millionaire? Any chance for me there?'

  'I don't know. He hasn't arrived yet. He is bringing his wife with him, though.'

  'Perhaps I can entice him away from her. Alternatively they might have an eligible son.'

  'If they have, he's not coming with them. Just a secretary. Name of Evans.'

  Jane applied lipstick. 'I'm not interested in secretaries unless they've got double-barrelled surnames if English, or have "Van" in front of them if American. Is that the lot?'

  'There's somebody Richard brought. From the FO. I don't know if he's married. Nice enough, but a bit of a stick. Then there's Algy—'

  'Stop. There's no need to be obscene. I must say, none of them sound awfully promising. It seems likely that in the immortal words of Amelia Bottway, I shall 'ave to try h'elsewhere - somewhere where they keep a adequate stock. However, I will inspect what you have.'

  'Then if modom will follow me to the terrace, she can do so at her leisure while taking tea.'

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tea on the Terrace

  The two girls went downstairs and onto the terrace. After Lord and Lady Burford had greeted Jane, the Countess started on introductions.

  'May I present Mr. Adler? Miss Clifton, a very dear friend of the family.'

  Adler smiled easily, stood up and held out his hand. He was pleasant-looking in a quiet, inconspicuous way, slightly below average height, slim yet nonetheless with a look of latent strength.

  'Miss Clifton, I'm very glad to make your acquaintance.'

  Jane suddenly knew what Gerry had meant by charm. Adler had oodles of it and, without meaning to, Jane found herself smiling more broadly than she usually did on meeting anyone new.

  'Mr. Felman,' said Lady Burford.

  Mr. Felman was tall, fair-haired, with finely-moulded sensitive features; he was also plainly ill at ease. He murmured a few words of greeting as he shook hands, then backed away quickly, glancing at Adler as he did so; it was almost as though he were seeking approval.

  Lady Burford moved on. 'Mr. Thornton.'

  Thornton gave a severe little bow of the head and shook hands with stiff, cold fingers.

  'And Mr. Deveraux,' Lady Burford said.

  Jane turned towards the fourth man. She had decided to be very magnanimous, to make no mention of the incident on the drive. She was all ready, therefore, to be extremely pleasant to Mr. Deveraux. But as he looked at her, she clearly saw his lips twitch and she knew at once that he was remembering her as he'd seen her last, standing, dripping and furious, on the drive. At that second all her good intentions went to the wall.

  So as Deveraux stepped forward, she extended her hand, smiled sweetly, and said: 'Mr. Deveraux and I are acquainted, Lady Burford. How are you, Mr. Deveraux? Have you assaulted any other young women since last we met?'

  And as Lady Burford stared blankly, Jane turned away to where Algy Fotheringay was still sitting, a cup of tea in one hand and a chocolate éclair in the other, and greeted him in a tone of great warmth. 'Hullo, Algy. How delightful to see you. How are you?'

  Algy got hurriedly to his feet, knocking over his chair as he did so, held out half an éclair to Jane, tried to transfer it to his left hand, couldn't do so because of the cup, popped the éclair into his mouth, swallowed, and gave Jane limp and sticky fingers.

  'I'm in topping form, thanks, Jane. How's yourself?'

  'Very well, thank—'

  I've had a really ripping year, Jane. In January I went to Le Pinet as a guest of Lady Masters. Do you know her? Charming woman. She said I was the most unforgettable guest she'd—'

  'You must tell me all about it, sometime,' Jane interrupted firmly. 'I shall look forward to it.' And she moved away towards the last member of the party. This was a tall, slim man, impeccably dressed, with a moustache and dark hair touched with grey at the temples; he was twinkling at her out of deep-set eyes.

  'Hullo, Jane. It's been a long time.'

  Jane held out her hand. 'It has, hasn't it?'

  'I've been here often enough, but you never seem to have come then.'

  'I am a working girl, you know. Anyway, it's very nice to see you again Unc - er, Rich—' She smiled. 'What do I call you now?'

  'I think you should follow Gerry's lead, and call me Richard. Come and sit by me and let's have a chat.'

  He pulled forward a chair for her. She sat down. Richard looked at her with pleasure. He saw a tall girl, very slim, with raven-black hair, a generous mouth, clear grey eyes, and a straight, steady gaze.

  'It was Gerry who started me calling you uncle,' Jane said. 'We were at the share-everything stage - and that had to include you.'

  'I insisted on her dropping the uncle part a long time ago. It's nice to be called it by a schoolgirl, or even by a debutante; but once she'd grown up it just drew attention to my advanced age.'

  'Advanced age my foot!' Jane accepted a cup of tea from a footman, added milk, and selected a cucumber sandwich from a laden trolley wheeled up by a maid. 'You are sixteen years older than me. I know that because when I was sixteen Gerry and I worked out that you were twice my age. I am now twenty-four, so you are forty.'

  'You are superbly diplomatic, Miss Clifton. Actually, I'm forty-one.'

  'All right, forty-one. And a future Prime Minister, according to at least one paper.'

  'Oh, that. They talk a lot of rot. But you didn't come to Alderley to talk politics. Tell me, what was the meaning of that cryptic remark you made to Deveraux?'

  'Oh, don't let's talk about it now. I'll explain later.'

  'As you wish, madam.'

  Jane gave a mock groan. 'Why does every conversation I have today remind me irresistibly of Mayfair Modes?'

  'Ah yes, the job from which you so magnificently departed. Gerry told us about it. Have you got another one yet?'

  Jane shook her head.

  Richard frowned. 'I wonder if I could help to fix you up. What sort of thing do you want to do?'

  'Anything at all. But I've no qualifications.'

  'There must be jobs going where you don't need formal qualifications.'

  'Do tell me what. I can't type or do shorthand, I've got no academic degrees or certificates, no artistic or acting talent. I talk in the right sort of accent, know the right sort of people, wear the right sort of clothes. I speak passable French and good German, ride moderately well and play a reasonable game of tennis. And there are thousands of girls who can say exactly the same thing. So what do you suggest?'

  Richard pursed his lips. 'Nursery governess?'

  'Can you honestly see—'

  He interrupted with a laugh. 'All right. I wasn't serious. Doctor's receptionist?'

  'No thanks. I don't want anything to do with medicine or illness.'

  'Some other sort of receptionist?'


  'I've already tried it at an hotel - without great success.'

  'Hm, you're a problem, aren't you? A nice problem, but a problem nonetheless.'

  'I'm a problem to myself. It's no good. I shall have to become an adventuress.'

  'Well, I'll keep my eyes and ears open for something else all the same - just in case you don't take to it.'

  'Thank you. But enough of me. Tell me about your foreign friends.' She nodded towards Adler and Felman, who were talking to Lord Burford and Geraldine. (She noticed with satisfaction that Deveraux had been cornered by Algy.)

  'Oh, they're not really friends. They're over here on official business and the PM thought it would be nice to give them a taste of a typical English country house party.'

  'I see. And what about Mr. Thornton?'

  'Oh, he's just a chap from the FO I've got friendly with lately. Nice fellow. We're all going to take the opportunity to do a bit of work, actually. Just some routine business.'

  * * *

  'Is this your first visit to England, Mr. Adler?' Gerry asked. By dint of some complicated conversational manoeuvres, she had at last managed to divert her father and Felman into one channel of discussion and had then gently detached Adler from it.

  'Yes, Lady Geraldine, it is.'

  'Too soon to ask how you like it, I suppose?'

  'What I've seen so far I've liked very much. Particularly your charming house.'

  'It is nice, isn't it?'

  'When was it built?'

  'Commenced 1670. One of the genuine, if smaller, stately homes of England. Complete with secret passage.'

  'Really?'

  'Yes, I'll show you later, if you're interested.'

  'I'd be fascinated. I've never seen one. They're such wonderfully romantic things.'

  'After dinner tonight, then. I'll take you to the room where one end of it comes out, and I bet you half a crown you can't find the entrance.'

  'You're on.'

  'There are quite a lot of interesting things here, actually - if you can afford the time off from your talks.'