by Clara Benson
‘Are they the ones with the triplets?’ said Miss Foster.
‘Oh no, they’re not married,’ said Gertie. ‘At least, not to each other.’
‘What?’ cried Lady Strathmerrick in horror. ‘We can’t have that!’
‘No, no,’ Gertie hastened to assure her. ‘It’s not like that at all. They’re not a couple. Freddy is my pal and Angela is my pal and Freddy is Angela’s pal and we’re all pals together, that’s all. Besides, Angela is rather older than Freddy and I, and I don’t suppose she’s at all interested in little boys. Anyway,’ she went on, ‘if there’s any funny business going on I should rather think it’s between Freddy and Priss.’ She saw her mother’s alarmed face and said hurriedly, ‘I’m only joking! I promise you, there’s nothing at all you need worry about.’
Lady Strathmerrick had heard this countless times before, but had never yet won an argument with her daughter. She subsided with a little bleat.
The telephone-bell rang in the hall, and shortly afterwards a grave manservant entered to tell Lady Strathmerrick that her husband had called from the House to say that he would be late for dinner. Lady Strathmerrick sighed and the manservant withdrew. Shortly afterwards, the drawing-room door opened again to admit an extremely pretty girl accompanied by a formal young man who had the air of being rather pleased with himself.
‘There you are, dears,’ said Lady Strathmerrick. ‘And how was the picture?’
‘Rather a bore in the end,’ said the girl. ‘After the first five minutes I realized I’d seen it before, but Claude insisted on our sitting through it.’
‘My dear girl, we’d paid to get in,’ said the young man. ‘If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s wasting money. And besides, I hadn’t seen it myself.’
‘But I wanted to leave,’ said Priss sulkily. ‘We never seem to do what I want.’
‘Well, the next time we find ourselves watching a film you’ve already seen, I promise we’ll go if you like,’ said Claude Burford with a laugh.
Priss tossed her head but did not reply.
‘Who are all these important people coming to Fives, Claude?’ asked Gertie. ‘Father won’t tell me—he said I wouldn’t be interested, but I’m sure something’s up.’
‘Nonsense. Nothing’s up,’ said Claude. ‘And your father was right: you won’t be interested at all. It’ll just be a lot of men talking about dull business stuff. Nothing you girls need worry about.’
‘But who?’ Gertie found Claude’s air of superiority maddening.
‘Well, the Buchanans are coming. And Aubrey Nash and his wife—the American Ambassador, you know. And perhaps a civil servant or two. Oh, and there’ll be a Danish professor called Klausen. Really, it couldn’t be less interesting.’
‘I see,’ said Gertie. ‘Yes, it does sound rather dull. At least there will be a couple of women, at any rate, so perhaps it won’t be a complete dead loss. We shall have to see what we can do to liven things up a little.’
‘There’s to be no livening up of anything,’ said Lady Strathmerrick. ‘Letty, tell her.’
‘Oh, goodness,’ said Miss Foster, who in seven years as part of the Strathmerrick household had never yet managed to get any of her charges to do as she asked. ‘I think you ought to listen to your mother, my dear. I think we should all like a nice, peaceful family party at Fives Castle, without any excitement.’
‘Excitement?’ said Gertie. ‘There’s no fear of that.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t worry, Mother, I promise I shall be on my best behaviour. I shall smile sweetly at everyone and pass the salt and look demure and not swear—out loud, at least. And afterwards I shall go upstairs into the attics and scream out my boredom where no-one can hear me.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Priss. ‘You know you’ll enjoy it, really. You always do.’
‘Perhaps it will snow,’ said Gertie. ‘That would be fun. I haven’t been tobogganing in years.’
‘I’m sure you will find plenty of things to do,’ said her mother. ‘We shall all have a nice, quiet time of it and return to London quite refreshed.’
‘I do hope so,’ said Miss Foster. ‘I don’t like too much excitement.’ She drifted out of the room.
‘No fear of that,’ said Gertie again.
THREE
Angela Marchmont applied her lipstick with care, and was just about to put on her hat when the telephone-bell rang.
‘Hallo, Mrs. M,’ said a familiar voice at the other end of the line. ‘All ready, then?’
‘Hallo, Freddy,’ said Angela. ‘Yes, I was about to set off.’
‘Good,’ said Freddy Pilkington-Soames. ‘I was just calling to make sure you weren’t going to funk it.’
‘Why on earth did you think I was going to funk it?’
‘Because I saw your face when Gertie attacked you and insisted on your coming. You wanted to say no but couldn’t think of an excuse on the spot.’
Angela laughed.
‘That’s true enough,’ she said. ‘I’m not in the habit of turning up to stay at the homes of people I barely know. As it happens, however, Lady Strathmerrick personally sent me a very kind invitation, which made me less uneasy about it. She also mentioned that the American Ambassador and his wife will be there, and that clinched the thing, as they’re old friends of mine whom I haven’t seen in years.’
‘I see,’ said Freddy. ‘Angela, is there anyone in the world you don’t know?’
‘Oh, probably,’ said Mrs. Marchmont. ‘Besides, I might ask the same thing of you.’
‘I am known and beloved by everybody, naturally,’ said Freddy. ‘That’s why I get invited everywhere. Not like my friend St. John, who has become persona non grata ever since he went all militant. He was desperate to come to Fives with us as he’s been mooning after Gertie ever since I introduced them a few months ago. She thinks he’s an idiot, but he won’t listen to reason. He just keeps on sending her silly poems and making sheep’s eyes at her in the hope that one day she’ll notice what a dashing fellow he is and go and live with him in a grimy hovel in Whitechapel.’
‘I do hope you’re going to behave yourself,’ said Angela. ‘I’ve seen what mischief you and Gertie can get up to in combination.’
‘Of course I’m going to behave myself,’ said Freddy. ‘I shall be a paragon of virtue. Difficult to be otherwise, really, in the presence of the parents and family of one’s friends.’
‘Are they all as—er—lively as Gertie?’ asked Angela curiously.
‘No, nothing like it,’ said Freddy. ‘The Earl and Countess are nice enough but pretty staid, all told. Priss is lovely to look at—and doesn’t she know it! But she’s engaged to a bright young politician, so there’s no fun to be had there.’
‘I should think not,’ said Angela.
‘Then there’s a younger sister, Clemmie. She’s about eighteen or nineteen. She’s nowhere near Gertie’s equal for tricks, but she shows promise for the future. The last time I saw her she was at the sulky stage and wouldn’t smile. Apparently, she’s taken it into her head to study science, and who knows, she might even make a decent fist of it. She’s got brains, all right. Then there are two younger boys, Gus and Bobby, neither of whom is old enough to be of any interest to us. The American Ambassador, though,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Yes, Gertie mentioned him. That’s rather interesting, now I come to think of it.’
‘Why?’ said Angela, and repeated her question when he did not reply.
‘Because I have the feeling that something is afoot, Watson,’ he said.
‘Really?’ said Angela. ‘Of what nature, exactly?’
‘Oh, political, naturally. You know Sandy Buchanan is going to be there, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but why is that important? Surely Foreign Secretaries are allowed to visit their friends at New Year just like everybody else?’
‘Of course they are, but why should he be going there at the same time as the American Ambassador? Are they going to discuss important matters of state?’
‘Perhaps you ought to ask him,’ said Angela. ‘I don’t see anything particularly suspicious in it myself. Great men tend to spend time with other great men. Did Gladstone and Disraeli have tea together, I wonder? I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if they did.’
‘They loathed each other, by all accounts.’
‘Did they? Well then, I expect they glared at each other over sherry and made pointed remarks. Anyway, even if they are going to talk about matters of state, why should that interest us? It will probably just be negotiations about the order of precedence at official banquets or something—deadly serious to them and awfully dull to the rest of us.’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Freddy. ‘Perhaps I have spent too much time lately cultivating my natural suspicion.’
‘I think you have. But even a reporter must take a few days off now and again, you know.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Freddy. ‘Very well, I’m glad you’re coming, at any rate. I shall be setting off soon myself, so I dare say I’ll see you this evening at dinner.’
He saluted her and rang off. Angela put on her hat, summoned her maid, Marthe, and prepared to leave.
‘Are we all set, William?’ she asked, when they arrived downstairs to where her chauffeur was waiting with the Bentley.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ the young man replied cheerfully. He held the door open for her, and then he and Marthe got into the front seats and they set off for the North.
For the first few miles, Angela sat in silence while William and Marthe conversed politely in the front. Angela was glad of that, as the two had a somewhat prickly relationship in general. William would have been glad to be friends, but Marthe considered herself to be a cut above him and tended to be frosty. Today, at any rate, they seemed to be getting on.
The Bentley ate up the miles and by mid-afternoon, sooner than Angela would have thought possible, they were crossing the border into Scotland. There was still some way to go yet, for Fives Castle was in the southern part of the Cairngorms, many miles to the North of Edinburgh. As they left that city behind them, Angela noticed that the air grew colder and fresher, and she thought she could detect the scent of pine needles. The sky had gone a flat, dingy grey, and there was a closeness to the atmosphere, despite the cold.
‘I do believe it is going to snow,’ she remarked. ‘I hope you have both brought plenty of thick clothes with you. I don’t know how warm these Scottish castles are.’
William’s expression said that he was not afraid of a bit of snow, while Marthe shivered and pulled her coat more closely around her.
‘Yes, madame,’ she said. ‘I have heard that Scotland is as cold as the North Pole, and so I made sure to pack my warmest things. And yours too.’
‘Oh, good,’ said Angela, and fell silent again, wondering, not for the first time, whether it had been a good idea to accept Gertie McAloon’s invitation. Angela had, almost by accident, done the girl a good turn a few months ago during the Gipsy’s Mile case, and Gertie in her gratitude had been keen to make Mrs. Marchmont’s closer acquaintance. But Angela knew very little of the Strathmerrick family, except that the Earl was something important behind the scenes in the Government, and that they all spent some part of each year at Fives Castle. Freddy was going, and that was something at least; and it would be nice to see Aubrey and Selma Nash again after several years, but Angela could not help feeling something of an interloper, despite Lady Strathmerrick’s kind invitation.
It was getting dark now, and the trees overhead made it even darker. The road narrowed and began to wind gently through the pine woods. William was driving slowly, mindful that he was unfamiliar with the place. Here and there the motor’s head-lamps briefly caught a deer, or a rabbit, or some other animal as it darted off into the forest. Then it began to snow.
‘You were right, ma’am,’ said William, as the first large flakes drifted down all around them, looking rather like scraps of torn paper that had been thrown up into the air and were now bobbing back down to earth. The snow fell gently at first, then more and more thickly. It began to lie on the road and on the grass verges. Soon enough, the trees were resplendent in thin silvery coats and Angela was becoming concerned.
‘Is it far, do you suppose?’ she said.
‘I don’t think so,’ replied William. ‘As a matter of fact, I was expecting to see the entrance a while back. Ah—here we are.’
The road was now bounded to their right by a high stone wall. It ran for a mile or so, then curved away from them, and they saw that they had arrived at the gates of the Fives estate. William turned the Bentley in and past the gatekeeper’s cottage, and proceeded slowly along the narrow, winding road, which rose and dipped through the trees. There was not enough snow yet to cause the car any difficulties, but Angela was glad they had arrived when they did. If it continued at this rate then it would surely be two or three feet deep by morning.
The Bentley crested the brow of a small hill and emerged from the trees, and they had their first view of Fives Castle, which stood out in sharp relief against the eerie, darkening sky. In spite of herself, Angela was struck by the grandeur of the building. There are some Scottish castles which hardly deserve the name, and could be more appropriately defined as large houses, but that was by no means the case here. With its frowning bulk, its turrets, its crenellations and its hundreds of windows, many of which were lit up, there was no doubt that Fives Castle inhabited its name and description comfortably—indeed, it seemed to Angela that had someone set out to build something that could be held as a model for the ideal of a Scottish castle, he could not have made a better job of it. William and Marthe had fallen silent and were gazing at the enormous mass that loomed ahead of them. At last, Marthe murmured something in French which Angela did not catch, although to judge by the girl’s expression she was unwillingly impressed.
‘What do you think, William?’ said Angela.
‘Well, it sure is big,’ said William. ‘I’d like to say something more poetic but that’s the first word that comes to mind.’
Angela laughed.
‘And to mine too,’ she said.
‘It is very big,’ said Marthe. ‘I hope it is also warm. I have noticed that the English are very fond of cold rooms. Me, I like to sit by the fire.’
‘My, but the snow is coming down thickly,’ said Angela, as the flakes swirled and flurried about them. ‘I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if we were snowed in by tomorrow.’
‘I’d like that,’ said William. ‘I’ve never been stuck in a castle before. It would be an adventure. Do you suppose they have any ghosts here?’
‘Ghosts?’ said Marthe. ‘I do not like ghosts.’
‘Don’t worry, Marthe,’ said Angela. ‘There won’t be any ghosts. And if we do get snowed in it is more likely to be very dull than anything else.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ said William.
FOUR
The Bentley now drew to a halt before the castle’s massive oaken doors, which despite the weather were thrown open to reveal a glimpse of a dimly-lit entrance-hall beyond. The doors were framed by a grand portico, which was flanked by two stone lions. A manservant emerged with an umbrella and opened the door of the Bentley to allow Angela to descend. She hurried into the shelter of the portico with thanks, and the servant directed William and Marthe around to the servants’ entrance. At that moment, a long, gleaming Daimler drew up, which must have been following close behind them. Angela paused as she recognized the occupants of the car. Someone had evidently recognized her too, for the door was flung open and a woman sprang out without waiting for assistance. She was swathed in furs and sported a cunning hat which did not quite hide the expensively-styled golden hair beneath. Even wrapped up as she was, it was clear to see that she was impossibly glamorous.
‘Why, it’s Angela Marchmont!’ she exclaimed delightedly. ‘Aubrey, look who’s here! Angela, you never told us you were coming. How simply marvellous! Look, Aubrey!’
Aubrey Nash now joined
them, smiling broadly, and greeted Angela with less effusiveness but no less pleasure, gazing into her eyes and pressing her hand warmly. He was tall and broad-shouldered, in the way of Americans, with a quiet, thoughtful manner. Angela had known them well a few years ago when she was living in New York, but had not seen them for some time as Aubrey had been posted abroad.
They stood for a few moments under the portico, inquiring about each other’s health, families and recent doings, while the manservant hovered politely.
‘Oh, but this weather is filthy,’ said Selma at last. ‘I swear, darling, much as I just love your fine nation, I’m sure the cold and the wet will be the death of me.’
‘Then let’s get inside,’ said her husband.
Once safely indoors, they found themselves standing in a large, square entrance-hall, from the centre of which rose a magnificent carved staircase. Straight ahead, on the first half-landing, was an enormous Gothic window of stained glass. It was dark at present, but Angela imagined the window would look spectacular in daylight. The dim electric lights (the place had been modernized, at least) revealed that the walls were hung all around with shields, swords, halberds, flags, coats-of-arms and other heraldic symbols, as well as the usual assortment of heads removed forcibly from wild animals without their unfortunate owners’ consent. A particularly bad-tempered looking stag glared at them from a wall to their right. There was even a suit of armour standing to attention at the bottom of the stairs, although the man who had worn it some four hundred years earlier must have been a good few inches shorter than Angela.
They had barely divested themselves of their outer garments when there was a clattering noise from above them and Gertie McAloon came hurtling down the stairs. She arrived breathlessly just as another woman emerged more sedately through a door that led from the hall. There was a strong resemblance between the two of them, and Angela recognized the older woman as Lady Strathmerrick, whom she had glimpsed briefly once a few months earlier. The Countess greeted the American Ambassador and his wife with affection, then turned to Angela and held out a hand.
