The Kit Aston Mysteries (All Five Books)

by Jack Murray

  ‘Where is Godfrey by the way, did he unpack for you?’

  ‘Yes, he was doing this when I came to you,’ replied Henry.

  ‘Very well, perhaps you should send him downstairs to meet the other staff and have some lunch,’ said Lady Emily turning to gaze out the window again.

  Henry took this as a polite dismissal. He left and returned to his room. Godfrey was there hanging up the last of Henry’s clothes. He turned to see Henry enter.

  ‘Will there be anything else, sir?’

  ‘No, have some lunch Godfrey,’ said Henry, not looking at him but going over to the window instead.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Godfrey, leaving the room.

  Outside the Cavendish grounds were blanketed in white now. Even the trees had snow covering their branches. Henry felt oddly entranced by the scene and stood contemplating it for a few minutes. He had many happy memories here and he hoped they would return one day. It brought to mind his father. The wave of sadness, when it came, was heavy. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought of the father he would never see again.

  -

  At that moment Cavendish was also looking out at the snow covering the estate. Memories flooded back to him also. Two small boys in the snow throwing snowballs or sledging down Tarrant’s Hill. It seemed like yesterday. How quickly the years pass. These reflections always left him feeling sad.

  Enough, he thought. It was time to think to the future: to think to Henry and the girls. This Christmas he would endeavour to repair the bonds of his family. This issue had been left unattended too long and he blamed himself.

  With this thought in his mind, he made a mental note to speak to the girls. It was important they tried with Lady Emily. They must find the resolve to ignore whatever provocation they faced from her. He glanced up at the portrait of Robert and made a silent commitment.

  Leaving the library, he crossed the hallway to see how lunch arrangements were progressing. Curtis was with Polly arranging the table. On a sideboard was a selection of meats, soup, and salad. Curtis looked up from arranging the table and stood to attention. He was not quite sure why he still did this in the presence of Cavendish, something of the army air in the lord, he supposed.

  ‘Everything’s ready sir.’

  ‘Very good. Please pass on my thanks to Elsie. It looks most appetizing.

  ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  ‘We should give our guests a few minutes more and then bang the gong.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’

  A thought appeared to strike Cavendish and he asked, ‘Have the staff of Lord Aston and Lady Emily eaten yet?’

  ‘Yes sir, they’re down in the kitchen, presently having lunch,’ replied Curtis.

  Cavendish nodded, Curtis took this as his and Polly’s cue to leave the dining room. They both returned to the kitchen to find Miller and Godfrey in conversation, they had been joined by Agnes, Lady Emily’s maid. Sam, meanwhile, was happily sitting on Elsie’s lap being fed small pieces of meat.

  ‘Sam’s found a new friend,’ indicated Miller to Curtis.

  ‘Yes, so I see. I’m not sure, though, if it’s advisable for the dog to stay in the kitchen,’ replied Curtis in a tone of voice that made no attempt to betray its self-righteous sentiments.

  ‘Don’t worry about him,’ replied Miller, ‘He’ll stay with his lordship in his room.’

  Curtis raised an eyebrow at this but did not comment further. Both Polly and Agnes, joined Elsie in making a fuss about the little dog. Sam, an arch manipulator of humans, had long since worked out how to play the game. Experience had taught him that the humans with the higher pitch voices were more malleable and responsive to his tricks. Tactics such as rolling over on his back or getting on his hind legs almost always bore fruit or, better still, bacon. The deeper voiced humans, on the other hand, were often more difficult to bend to his will. Worse, they were often not to be trusted.

  Curtis looked at the clock near the door. It was after midday. He turned to the rest of the staff in the kitchen and inhaled deeply. This was always a prelude to an instruction or an improving thought. The staff braced themselves.

  ‘I think our guests will be getting hungry by now if they’ve had an early start. It’s time for lunch. Polly, Agnes, will join me upstairs to assist, thank you.’

  Rising from the table, he straightened his jacket and made his way up the stairs to the hallway with ceremonial dignity.

  -

  Eric Strangerson was having another nip from his hip flask when he heard the gong indicating lunch.

  ‘About bloody time,’ he said out loud. He pocketed the flask and went to the mirror to make one last recce. Deciding he did, indeed, pass muster, he opened the door and walked into the corridor. He was joined at this moment by Kit Aston, who was clearly also quite hungry.

  ‘The old tummy has been rumbling for a bit now,’ said Strangerson jovially.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ replied Kit trying hard not to glance downward at Strangerson’s rather ample complainant.

  They descended the stairs together in agreement that cold weather and long journeys boosted the appetite enormously. Curtis opened the dining room door for the two gentlemen. Cavendish was standing in front of the dining room table. He greeted them warmly.

  Chapter 5

  The dining room that Kit and Strangerson walked into was spacious and elegantly furnished. The table at the centre was long but not dominating and looked like it would seat ten people comfortably. Light flooded in through the tall French windows which bounced off the white walls giving a sense of air and space. Adorning the walls were a number of small genre and equestrian paintings from the nineteenth century. Cavendish moved to one side of the table and smiled to the newly arrived guests.

  ‘Gentlemen, I trust you’re well-rested following your journey.’

  ‘Yes sir, thank you. The bedroom is very comfortable. Wonderful view, too. I’m sure there are beautiful gardens underneath the snow somewhere.’ replied Kit, smiling.

  ‘Indeed, it’s come down rather heavily over last few hours. I hope our carol singers will be able to make it up to the Hall later.’

  ‘Carol singers. Capital idea, sir,’ said Strangerson.

  ‘It is actually. We have a tradition at the Hall. The vicar and many of the villagers come up to the Hall and we serve mulled wine, mince pies and give out presents to the school children.’

  ‘Can we join in the festivities, sir?’ asked Kit.

  ‘Why of course. Traditionally it’s myself and, in the past, my wife and boys who did the honours. You would be most welcome to help Mary, Esther and myself.’

  ‘I should be delighted, sir.’

  ‘I’m always up for serving mulled wine. It sounds like a spiffing idea,’ added Strangerson.

  ‘Excellent, thank you very much, gentlemen. We can set up a few posts as there could be as many as sixty men, women and children from the village to visit us this afternoon.’

  Kit walked over to the painting hanging over the fireplace. It showed a horse and a foal. He recognized the artist immediately.

  ‘This looks like a Stubbs, sir.’

  ‘It is. My grandfather had an eye for these things. Probably spent a little too much on it in my view but there are many paintings around the house acquired by him over the years. Mostly equestrian, I should add, but some interesting portraits as well. We have a Sargent also. He painted Katherine.’

  ‘I should like to see her portrait. I remember she was very beautiful.’

  ‘You should‘ve seen her when we first met,’ smiled Cavendish but there was a melancholy in his eyes.

  The dining room door opened. Lady Emily and Henry made their entrance.

  ‘Emily,’ said Cavendish. He took her hand and brought her over to Strangerson and Kit. ‘Let me introduce you and Henry to our guests for Christmas, Lord Kit Aston and Eric Strangerson.’

  Lady Emily held out her hand and they observed the usual introductory pleasantries. Kit could not hel
p but observe the limpness of Henry’s handshake and unwillingness to look him in the eye. He felt sympathetic towards the young man. He clearly lacked self-confidence and was uncertain in company. This could easily be changed with the right mentoring. Cavendish had also noticed this exchange. There was much to do.

  ‘The idea is we serve food ourselves and allow the staff to make ready for the carol singers and villagers later. Please help yourselves and sit anywhere. We shall try to be as informal as possible,’ said Cavendish.

  The gentlemen allowed Lady Emily to pick a few items on her plate and then they followed.

  ’What a wonderful selection, Lord Cavendish. Your staff has excelled themselves. I hardly know where to begin,’ said Strangerson. His solution was brilliantly simple, he put a generous amount of food on his plate from each of the offerings. Cavendish and Kit glanced at one another as they looked at Strangerson tuck in. Both smiled.

  ‘I shall make sure to tell Elsie, who prepared this feast.’

  ‘Please do, sir.’

  Neither Emily nor Henry made any comment on the food. Then she made a small show of looking around the table.

  ‘Should we make a start, or do we wait for the girls?’

  This was a split second too late for Strangerson who had already begun to eat. He looked up comically and laughed, ‘Oh gosh, I’m afraid my hunger made me forget my manners.’

  ‘Don’t worry old chap,’ reassured Cavendish, ‘my granddaughters will make their usual dramatic entrance soon enough, I suspect.’

  As if on cue, Esther and Mary entered the room, and for Kit, the oxygen left it. Esther was every bit as beautiful as he’d been led to believe. She seemed to glide rather than walk. Transfixed for a moment, Kit regained his composure and stood up. Strangerson finished off his mouthful, dabbed his chin with the napkin and rose in a movement that Cavendish found oddly impressive in its economy.

  The girls went over to their Aunt Emily first. Greetings and kisses were exchanged. All of this was accomplished in a rather grand style by Lady Emily, thought Kit. Next was Strangerson. He performed his role to the hilt waxing lyrical about the beauty of the girls, making a great show of bowing to them and kissing their outstretched hands. Kit held his breath as they came towards him.

  ‘Lord Aston, we‘re honoured to have you join us this Christmas.’ said Esther.

  She held out her hand and he shook it rather than doing as Strangerson had done.

  ‘I’m the one who is honoured, firstly to have been invited by your grandfather and to be with the daughters, and son, of men I admired greatly.

  ‘You met our father?’ This was Mary.

  He regarded Mary, for the first time. As he’d barely been able to keep his eyes off Esther, the appearance of Mary was almost a shock. She was slightly shorter than her sister and slenderer. Her movement had a different type of grace, but Kit was too entranced to analyse further. He noticed that she wore her hair much shorter than Esther. A Suffragette, he wondered? The blue eyes were those of her sister but where Esther seemed dreamy, inviting you to worship, Mary’s crackled with an electric intensity.

  ‘Our paths crossed on a number of occasions,’ explained Kit.

  ‘I should like to know more some time,’ said Mary.

  ‘Gladly.’

  Cavendish, observing all introductions had been made, motioned for his granddaughters to collect their lunch and join the table. He was pleased by the impact Esther had made on Kit. The politeness of the meeting between Strangerson and Mary had told its own story. There was little prospect of romance there.

  Kit was glad the two girls were sitting across the table from him. It would give him ample opportunity to view them. With some difficulty, he tried to dismiss the thought that this was a deliberate ploy by Esther or Mary. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop himself hoping.

  ‘I say, it’s fairly chucking it down outside,’ said Strangerson. Cavendish silently thanked him for starting conversation at the table.

  ‘We often have a white Christmas here,’ added Cavendish.

  ‘It’s certainly very beautiful; romantic even,’ said Kit.

  ‘Are you a romantic, Lord Aston?’ asked Mary, smiling.

  Kit laughed and avoided answering the question directly.

  ‘My friends call me, Kit. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I read Byron every day.’

  Mary narrowed her eyes and smiled. Kit could tell she knew he had deftly avoided answering the question. He became aware Lady Emily had spoken, and he turned his attention towards her. His fears about her were quickly being realized. She was a little over-bearing and pompous. Henry seemed utterly disinterested in what she had to say as well as in more general conversation. Kit felt he should try and bring him into the conversation.

  ‘Tell me Henry, are you at university yet?’

  ‘No, Lord Aston.’

  ‘He will go next year,’ interjected Lady Emily, ‘Won’t you my dear.’

  Henry did not deign to reply so Kit added, ‘Any thoughts on where you will go and what you would like to read?’

  Once again Lady Emily jumped in.

  ‘We would like him to read the Classics. I think that Greek and Latin provide such a good grounding for the mind and the soul? Don’t you agree Lord Aston?’

  ‘I read Mathematics and Modern Languages myself. At Cambridge,’ replied Kit, realizing he was potentially making an enemy.

  ‘I should like to have had the opportunity to go there,’ said Mary.

  ‘I agree you should be allowed to go, Lady Mary. There are so many things that need to change with regard to women and society,’ replied Kit.

  ‘The vote as well, Kit. Good Lord, they’ll be driving next!’ interjected Strangerson. Everyone laughed except Mary and Henry. Suspecting that his joke might offend Mary, he quickly recanted, ‘Of course, I agree with Kit. It’s a bally shame. Positively medieval really.’

  Mary looked at Strangerson. Kit could not decide if she was warming to him or taking his measure. On balance he suspected the latter. Esther turned to Henry, realising he had not been given the chance to respond to Kit.

  ‘I’m sorry Henry, but what would you like to do at university?’

  Henry turned a deep red as all eyes turned towards him. Esther felt a tinge of regret for him, but her grandfather was very happy. He was very curious to hear what the young man would say.

  He turned towards his mother and then looked at the table. His face was approaching crimson. Then with a surge of courage he spoke.

  ‘Well, my grandfather has mentioned he would love that I read chemistry.’

  Lady Emily turned to Cavendish and glared.

  ‘Really Arthur?’

  ‘I believe he’s referring to your father, Emily,’ said Cavendish innocently but his eyes were twinkling.

  ‘I see,’ said Emily in a manner which left no one in doubts that this matter was far from resolved. Cavendish was highly amused. He had a feeling that Cedric Blythe was going to get a rather severe verbal beating from his daughter. Poor fellow, he thought. It occurred to him that he should invite Blythe to visit soon. It had been too long. The turn in the conversation appeared to embolden young Henry further.

  ‘As it happens, I should be rather keen to study Chemistry, mama. Grandpapa and I have talked about it at length about this. He knows I have an interest and I’ve visited the plant in York a number of times.’

  Emily looked like she was chewing wasps and remained silent. The lunch party took this to mean the subject, for the moment, was closed. Kit, however, was very decided on speaking to Henry, well away from his mother, on this subject. Both Cavendish and Mary were similarly determined.

  ‘What languages did you read Lord Aston?’ asked Esther, to fill the silence which had descended like a raincloud onto a mountain.

  ‘German, French and Russian,’ replied Kit.

  ‘And you did Mathematics also. Wherever did you find the time to do all this? You mustn’t have had much of a social life,’ probed Mary. There wa
s no mistaking what her real question was.

  ‘Thankfully I had a pretty good start on all but Russian. I began it at university. It meant that I didn’t have to forego all of the fun to be had in Cambridge during my time there.’

  ‘Have you been to Russia?’ asked Mary, eyeing him closely.

  Kit glanced at Cavendish who briefly shut his eyes and imperceptibly shook his head. The glance to Cavendish did not go unnoticed, however, by Mary who smiled and narrowed her eyes.

  ‘Or perhaps I shouldn’t ask?’

  By way of an answer Kit replied, ‘I’ve spent a little time with Kerensky. He’s in London now. I’ve been able to practice with him.’

  The rest of the meal passed off without any further diplomatic incidents. Strangerson proved to be very adept at keeping conversation light and instantly forgettable. Kit was able to enjoy the vista of the Cavendish girls who presented a fascinating study in polar opposites. He wondered how they were together. They seemed so different and yet there was no mistaking the facial resemblance, the beautifully modulated voices and also their laughter, which was frequent, sincere, and conspiratorial enough to suggest a genuine closeness.

  Unquestionably, Esther was the most beautiful girl Kit had ever seen. He knew this from the moment she had entered the room. It was a relief to see that her beauty was not just an outward manifestation. There was no artifice about her. Her natural grace was both physical and metaphysical. To be near her was to feel a surge of good feeling for humanity. After the horrors of France, he could imagine no purer experience than to be with her. However, he was acutely aware it would become obvious if he stared at her too much. Instead, he tried to ensure he conversed with Lady Emily and Strangerson. From time to time he engaged Esther but for the most part focused his attention elsewhere.

  Curtis brought some coffee in and the lunch party stood to serve themselves. Cavendish joined Emily and Henry while Strangerson went over to the window. He was joined moments later by Kit, Esther, and Mary.