by Jack Murray
Eric Strangerson stepped forward, also smiling, and held out his hand. ‘Lord Cavendish, a great pleasure to meet you sir.’
‘Come inside, you’ll find it warmer,‘ said Cavendish. ‘I fear we’re in for a heavy snow soon.’
Cavendish allowed both men to go ahead of him, and they entered into the hall. Before them was a large Christmas tree. It was decorated tastefully to suggest rather than exclaim the time of year. The small staff all presented themselves in the hallway. Curtis the butler, Miss Buchan the housekeeper, Polly the maid and Elsie the cook. The three ladies curtsied to the guests and Cavendish made the introductions. As he finished the introductions he turned and saw Harry Miller enter with Kit Aston’s baggage. He regarded him for a moment as if in recognition then, turning to the men, he said, ‘If you wish, Curtis can show you to your rooms. Then he can take your man to his room.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Kit.
‘I say, sir,’ said Strangerson, ‘Did you put the tree up yourself?’
Cavendish laughed and claimed credit only for the placing of one or two ornaments. He found himself taking a liking to Strangerson, who seemed to be full of good humour. Although perhaps not someone you would say was handsome, he seemed to be a good sort: there was a humorous streak to his character allied to more substantial qualities that had seen him serve bravely for his country. In addition, he was an academic, but he appeared, on first impression, to wear this lightly.
He wondered, one more, how Strangerson would be perceived by Mary. Unlike Strangerson, who was of average height and a little too fond of his food, Lord Kit Aston could only but impress his granddaughters. They would know of his record in the War, his background as a Cambridge scholar and, most importantly, that he would be a Viscount. Without knowing why, he thought of Esther and Kit together. In every respect, Kit should be of interest to Esther. He hoped she would return such interest.
Returning to the library, he felt the wave of sadness overcome him. Seeing Kit reminded him of those who had gone. When he looked at the young lord, it was difficult not to think of his boys. His bearing, his confidence and undoubted good looks made him an attractive person to be with. There was also a good humour in his manner but mixed with the right amount of respect. Yes, he hoped Esther and this young man would like one another.
Chapter 2
Kit Aston sat on the bed. He surveyed his room. It was furnished simply but elegantly. One wardrobe, a writing desk, and a small chaise longue. The view onto the gardens created by Brown was stunning. The green wallpaper was, perhaps, not to his taste but, overall, he liked what he saw. It felt comfortable. He looked up at his manservant, Miller.
‘What do you think, Harry?’
‘Odd looking place, sir. Lord Cavendish seems a good sort though.’
‘I don’t suppose you saw the look he gave you?’
‘Yes, I noticed, sir. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.’
‘Trifle odd, I thought. It looked as if he knew you from somewhere.’
‘I’m not sure how, sir,’ replied Miller. ‘Remember, we were in different regiments.’
‘That’s what I thought. Are you sure you didn’t pay the Hall a nocturnal visit before the War?’ laughed Kit.
Miller shot him a look but continued to unpack Kit’s clothes without saying anything. Kit contemplated Miller. He had not known the short Londoner for long. They had met late on during the War. However, at the first opportunity following the end of the War, he had no hesitation in asking him to be his manservant. Miller accepted immediately.
Since then, both had many occasions to thank Kit’s decision. Miller had proven a particularly useful accomplice during the French Diplomat affair; as brave and resourceful then, as he had been at Cambrai when they first met. From Miller’s point of view, life with Kit Aston had certainly proved very interesting.
‘What about the boy?’ asked Kit.
‘Oh, he’s still sleeping in his basket, sir. I may have overdone the sleeping draft.’
‘That’ll put him in a foul mood.’
Miller looked up from the suitcase he was unpacking and raised his eyes. ‘Couldn’t be any worse than normal.’
Kit laughed, ‘You and he will become best chums, I’m sure. Still, it would be good to get him out for a walk sooner rather than later.’
‘I think I’d rather take on Fritz again,’ said Miller. Kit grinned but did not respond.
When Miller had completed the unpacking, he glanced at Kit. With a nod of his head, Kit indicated he could go to his quarters. As Miller left, Kit said, ‘Harry, I couldn’t help but notice how attractive Polly was. I trust you’ll be a good soldier and refrain from making this young lady fall in love with you. Or worse.’
‘You know me, sir’
‘Indeed Harry, that’s my point,’ he said smiling.
Kit stood up and went to the window to gaze over the grounds. The snow was falling a bit more heavily now. Over by the fountain he caught sight of two girls. They were walking together in the gardens; both were laughing. It was difficult to see their faces clearly as both sported cloche hats. He turned away from the window lest he be seen. Glancing back out again he was disappointed to see them moving away from the house rather than towards it.
-
Esther and Mary walked towards the Rose garden. Both were wrapped up against the cold. Mary looked up and felt snow fall softly on her face.
‘Do you think they’re looking at us?’ asked Esther.
‘No question Essie,’ stated Mary with a smile. ‘How much longer do you want to do this tour?’
‘Another couple of minutes and then we will go inside. I think by then we’ll have given them enough opportunity…’ Esther left the rest unsaid.
‘That should be three minutes before the frostbite sets in.’
Esther laughed. They turned around and headed back towards the house. Both avoided glancing at the windows of the guest bedrooms, but Mary couldn’t resist asking, ‘Can you see anything from the corner of your eye? I’m too exposed.’
‘Yes! Mission accomplished. I definitely saw two figures. Good idea to put them there, Mary.’
‘You’re welcome. How are you feeling?’ asked Mary.
‘I don’t know. Lord Kit seems so impressive. I’m sure I won’t know what to say to him,’ she said doubtfully.
‘You shall, don’t be silly.’
‘Anyway, what about you? You assume too much Mary. He might prefer you. Then there’s Mr Strangerson. What of him, I wonder?’
Indeed, thought Mary. What of Mr Strangerson? Unquestionably he seemed interesting but the quick view of him stolen as they came out of the car had left her unimpressed. Unlike Lord Kit Aston.
Her objective this Christmas was to help Esther. If she could do this, then it would please her grandfather and Essie. Better still, it would leave her free. She was too young to settle down. Maybe she might become friends with Strangerson who, at least, had travelled and done interesting things. But romance, no.
She thought about her sister again. Mary suspected her sister was keen to be married. In fact, she had never denied this. Esther had shown Mary photographs of Kit Aston in the papers, but she already knew what he looked like. He was undeniably attractive. It seemed almost unfair to Strangerson who could not fail to understand the undercurrents.
The only question was not if Kit would fall for Esther. On this, Mary was convinced. How could he not? Her sister was beautiful, serene, and impossible not to adore. She felt a little less certainty about Esther falling for Kit, however. Either way, she would make sure that he saw her to best advantage. With any luck Strangerson would not prove too much of a hindrance in this plan.
They went back into the house through the kitchen. Elsie was by the cooker stirring what smelled like a broth. Esther leant over Elsie, ‘Mmmmm, this smells delicious.’
‘Thank you, Ma’am. I just hope you eat a good lunch. You’re always so fussy about food,’ scolded Elsie. She glanced over at Mary. ‘And t
hat applies to you too, young lady. There’s hardly a pick on either of you. If I know anything about men, there’s nothing they like more than a lady who they can hold.’
‘Well, we want to hear all about your experience with men, don’t we Essie?’ responded Mary.
‘Indeed, do tell,’ added Esther, leaning in conspiratorially.
‘That’s quite enough from the both of you. It may surprise you to know I’ve had my admirers. Now off with the both of you, I’ve work to do,’ ordered Elsie.
The two girls left the kitchen smiling broadly.
-
Miller glanced at the two sisters as he went into his room. Although Lord Aston had mentioned nothing, he suspected there were moves afoot to launch an attack on his master’s bachelorhood. Both girls, even on his quick perusal, were stunning. Esther seemed to move as if on air. He had never seen so much natural grace in a young woman. However, if it was him, Mary would be his choice. There was a liveliness there, he thought. He wondered how his lordship would resist such beauty.
Miller rarely tried to resist a pretty face. He was not tall or striking to look at, but he had a ready wit that he deployed to great effect. From an early age he had found women liked his cheek and he used it with relish.
His room was small but seemed more than comfortable. Sadly, the bed was single. Even if he had wanted to disobey his lordship it would prove very difficult in this room, especially as he could hear two people arguing in a room nearby. It sounded like Curtis and the housekeeper, Miss Buchan, were having a heated discussion. In such a situation there was only one thing a chap such as Harry Miller could do. He listened at the door
‘I tell you; I heard every word. He’s going to change the will. Wait and see.’ This was Curtis. When he had finished, he stood erect and gripped the lapels of his coat in the hope it might lend a degree of respectability to what was, in essence, gossip.
‘There’s nothing we can do about it. Whatever happens, young master Henry will inherit. He’s a hateful child. Like mother, like son,’ responded Miss Buchan.
‘They’ll throw us out. I know it. They hate us,’ concluded Curtis.
‘What will happen to us then?’
‘That’s the point, I’m sure Lord Cavendish said you and I would receive an income for the rest of our lives. I heard it.’
‘How much? Did you hear?’ probed Miss Buchan.
‘I wasn’t able to hear that part. I’m sure he knows what she’ll do. He’ll take care of us, just you see.’
The conversation seemed to end, so Miller backed quietly away from the door. His lordship would find this of interest. Although Kit never sullied himself with eavesdropping, he had absolutely no qualms about using Miller’s intelligence gleaned from overheard conversations and general observations.
There was a knock at his door.
‘Come in,’ said Miller.
The door opened and young Polly, the maid stood, without entering.
‘Mr Miller, Mr Curtis has asked me if you would like to join us in the kitchen for a cup of tea and a briefing on luncheon.’
‘Harry, please call me Harry. Mr Miller seems very formal.’
Polly seemed very unsure of this familiarity and glanced in the direction of Curtis.
‘Ahh I see. Well, Mr Miller it is then, but when the two old codgers are not around, it’s Harry.’ He followed this with a wink.
Polly smiled and left him. Harry smiled to himself. No reason why his lordship had to know if he tried to have a bit of fun for himself. Anyway, what was the worst that could happen?
-
Curtis sat at the head of the kitchen table. Also sitting at the table was Miss Buchan. Polly and Elsie were busy preparing lunch in the kitchen. Miller arrived in and Curtis graciously motioned for him to join them at the table.
‘Tea?’ asked Miss Buchan.
‘Yes thanks, white no sugar,’ replied Miller.
Curtis smiled with pontifical benevolence at Miller. This made Miller groan inwardly. With the whole kitchen now held captive, Curtis rested his gaze on the congregation and proceeded with his sermon.
‘I thought it would be a good idea if we discuss how we’ll organize ourselves over this festive period.’
Miller remained quiet sensing Curtis was not a man to respond well to interruption or, indeed, humour. There would be plenty of opportunity to create mischief with this pompous idiot before the stay was complete.
‘I was wondering,’ continued Curtis, ‘how long you have been in the service of his lordship?’
‘I only met him towards the end of the War. When it finished, he contacted me and offered me a position as his manservant. Naturally, I said yes.’
‘Ahhh, very interesting,’ said Curtis. ‘You served in the same regiment?’
‘No, our paths crossed for different reasons.’ Miller did not seem like he was prepared to elaborate so Curtis moved the conversation on.
‘Have you had much experience of service at country houses?’ inquired Curtis.
Miller laughed to himself. His pre-war experience of country houses had primarily been confined to safe cracking. He had enjoyed a moderately lucrative livelihood in crime before the War interrupted his career and diverted him onto another path. His lordship’s offer of a job had prompted him to give up burglary although, as he was to find out, the skills developed in this particular family trade had proved useful on occasion.
‘None, I’m afraid,’ replied Miller.
‘So, you have no experience of serving meals.’
‘None, sorry.’
‘But how do you manage with his Lordship?’ asked Curtis.
‘He’s quite flexible. We also have an extensive staff at his father’s estate in Hertfordshire. Although he rarely goes there. So, my role is more as…’ at this point he struggled. How could he explain his role with Kit? Being a manservant barely began to cover a range of duties encompassing safe cracking, detective work, rescuing damsels in distress, averting war and all within the last year. He struggled on manfully, ‘…more as a chauffeur, personal secretary, in fact anything that he needs.’ That does not require me serving luncheon, he thought ruefully.
Curtis seemed a little crestfallen. Seeing this Miller took pity and added, ‘but I’m happy to learn from you.’ He looked up at Polly who had been standing nearby. Yes, he thought, more than happy to help out my dear. He detected a fleeting smile on her face as she moved away again.
This news seemed to perk Curtis up a little.
‘Splendid! Thank you, Mr Miller. I hope you don’t mind if we retain a certain formality in our association. I would prefer to be called Mr Curtis and naturally a similar formality should apply to Miss Buchan.’
Miss Buchan smiled also. Miller smiled back. He still was not sure what to make of this lady. She was in her fifties at least. Her face had a pinched countenance that did not so much suggest spinster as declaim it via the offices of the town crier. Despite this, she seemed less self-righteous than Curtis. He realized Curtis had still not finished, and he tried to re-focus on what was being said. It seemed he was expected to dress in Cavendish Hall livery and assist with luncheon and dinner. This was not good news. His Lordship would rib him mercilessly about this. Above and beyond, he thought.
Curtis was still chattering as he led Miller to a wardrobe containing the relevant attire. His worst fears were confirmed. It was every bit as bad as he had expected. He resolved there and then that his reward would be in the very shapely form of Miss Polly, whatever his lordship might dictate. Miller took the relevant clothing and went to get changed. Curtis had informed him that a light lunch would be served soon after Lady Emily and master Henry had arrived.
Chapter 3
Somewhat earlier than expected, Lady Emily and her son, Henry, arrived at Cavendish Hall. The news was relayed via Devlin who had first spied them as he was parking the Austin Twenty. Sprinting from the car to the kitchen door, he shouted, ‘They’re coming!’
In these situations, leadership,
calmness, and authority are required. Curtis had none of these qualities to any great degree.
‘Oh my God, they’re not expected for another hour. Quick, all of you. We have to get to the hallway,’ he said, waving his arms frantically.
‘We should let Lord Cavendish know,’ suggested Miss Buchan.
‘Oh my God, you’re right, Lord Cavendish,’ cried Curtis looking decidedly sick.
Curtis arose from his seat hurriedly, all parson-like dignity evaporating with every second Lady Emily made her stately progress towards the house. He reached the library just in time to see Lord Cavendish coming out. Out of breath from a combination of panic and poor conditioning, he was just about to relay the news when Cavendish, seeing his obvious discomfort raised his hand and said, ‘Yes, I know.’
Curtis nodded and tried to fix his hair in as dignified a manner as was possible in the situation. Meanwhile, Miss Buchan was already on her feet and waving for Polly and Elsie to join her. All four rushed up the stairs into the hallway, brushing past the large Christmas tree that swayed and rustled.
-
Cavendish had observed the arrival of Lady Emily from the library window. The snow had not yet settled on the road but would do so in another hour. He glanced at his pocket watch and tapped the cover to make sure his watch had not stopped. It had not. They were early. No doubt hoping to catch him and the staff unaware. Then he felt a moment of remorse. He needed to avoid being unkind.
Rising from his desk, Cavendish walked out of the library just as the staff squeezed themselves through the door into the hallway. He walked out the front door to greet his new guests. Lady Emily stepped from the car helped by her chauffeur, Godfrey. She smiled towards Cavendish and gracefully brushed away a snowflake that had fallen on her nose. Cavendish went over to her and gently kissed her on the proffered cheek. He glanced at Godfrey and nodded.
‘So good to see you again, Emily, my dear,’ he said, not without a stab of guilt. His only comfort was that she was probably every bit as dismayed to be with him. ‘Just in time as well. This snow is getting worse,’ he added, glancing upwards.
